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darkmindsotome · 3 years

Text

On the Riverbank

Title: On the Riverbank

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kei Soejima x MC

Word count:3,963

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: After suffering from cabin fever a date is in order. Only this simple date plan is going to get spicy.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #15: Free Prompt (Picnic on the River)

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I was willing to blame uncontrollable events on the fact that we hadn’t managed to go on a date in a while. Between work and recovering from work, it had been impossible to plan anything. However, it had become the new norm for us to remain living together at Kei’s rooms in Raven.

At some point, I began to feel like I had cabin fever. I was happy to be with Kei and a secret part of me loved being at home with him 24/7. To think there was a time when I thought this was a prison sentence. I couldn’t deny the fact I wanted to go out and do something now things had settled down though.

After looking out of the large windows in the suite over the streets of London, sighing for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, into my nighttime cup of tea. Kei put down his book and announced we would be going on a date. Later that night I curled up happily in bed wrapped in his arms and fell fast asleep.

The next day I woke up alone. My mysterious man had vanished before I could say so much as a good morning or ask about our date plans. Patting down the sheet on his side of the bed resulted in me finding them stone cold. He was always an early riser but this was ridiculous. I then noticed a note left on his pillow.

“Good morning, forgive me I had some things to tend to. I have arranged a car to bring you to our date. K”

I rubbed my fingers over his beautiful cursive writing just as a courier arrived at the door and delivered a beautifully wrapped box. The duck egg blue container was almost pearlescent with a thick cream coloured satin ribbon all perfectly tied around it.

The timing was so perfect I really had to marvel at the man organising this and wonder if I was always this predictable or if I would discover a hidden camera somewhere in the room. Opening the box up revealed a single white rose with a card resting on top of a black dress that fitted Kei’s tastes perfectly.

“I can’t wait to see you. K”

The message had me smiling long before I took the dress out of the box. It was a vintage style tea dress with little cap sleeves made from some of the most delicate lace I’d ever seen. It looked almost like patterned smoke.

There was something different about getting ready for a mission and getting ready for a date. The feeling I got from both was similar but I found I was much more nervous about a date than a life-threatening mission. I rushed through my prep stage of shower, hair and make-up.

Slipping into the dress I instantly fell in love with it. Kei knew my measurements off by heart and I was pretty sure he had them on file with his usual tailor so he could get the outfits he gifted me perfect right down to the last stitch.

Walking into the closet to find a pair of suitable shoes I discovered some already sitting out. They were naturally also black with the addition of ribbons that wrapped around my ankles. Securing the bows, I couldn’t help but make the comparison between them and cuffs. I felt heat climbing up from them at the thought. I imagined Kei and what was probably going through his head as he picked them out for me. How his fingers would have traced the shoes and the ribbon. The idea of tying me up was never far from his mind and with these shoes, it felt like he had already started.

Shaking my head, I looked at my watch and doubled checked my reflection in the mirror before leaving to go get in the car. I watched from the back seat absentmindedly playing with my choker as the car took me away from the centre of the metropolis.

The modern landscape changed slowly into something that felt more historic. The buildings looked older; the concrete jungle had passed into something more like a tv drama set. In fact, if I hadn’t known how far I had travelled I might have thought I was somewhere else entirely.

My eyes caught a familiar figure standing near the roadside. He was dressed in more casual clothes. The white trousers, cream coloured cricket jumper with a blue stripe around the collar and the light blue shirt under it all made him look like a student. The car slowed until the backdoors aligned perfectly with him. I had seconds to smooth down my dress and mentally brush off some of the nervous excitement before the door was opened.

“M’lady.” I smiled at the Princely Kei as he offered me his hand. It was all too easy to forget what he truly was like even for me. Yes, I loved his sweet and angelic side, but I also loved that tricky Devil he hid behind his mask too.

“Thank you.”

Kei guided me to his side, away from the car, and sent it on its way. Now completely alone he used our still joined hands to make me twirl for him as he looking me over from head to toe.

“You look even better than I imagined.” Kei smiled and brought me closer to him. Sweeping some of my hair away from my neck so he could brush his fingers along the neckline of the dress and the choker around my neck.

I once more felt the difference in attire. I was all dressed up and felt far more formal than he did. The idea of him being a student once more flitted through my mind conjuring up kinky scenarios of a socialite sneaking off for a romantic rendezvous with a hidden student lover. It was silly, Kei was older than me even if there were times it was hard to tell that from appearance alone.

“Careful now or you might start sounding like Kazuomi.” I joked attempting to forget the thoughts going through my mind.

My eyes naturally fluttered shut. His cold elegant fingers ghosting over my skin was enough to remind me of the many nights we spent together. Where he had dyed me in his own colours and shown me the abyss behind the door to depravity. Joining me as we fell through purgatory to our own private Eden.

“Perish the thought.” He let go of me. A sensation that left me feeling the need to chase him.

Opening my eyes, I saw that impish look on his face. He was slowly becoming more and more adjusted to life outside of his own nightmares and past. It was still obvious he was a little lost and confused at times but when he was like this, I could almost imagine him as a little boy. It made my heart sing to think we could stand here now together and I could enjoy such a candid fragment of my elusive boyfriend.

“Come now we should get this date started.” Kei laced our fingers and matched his pace to mine.

We walked through some trees and right up to the side of a riverbank. There in front of us was a beautiful craft floating on the water. Inside were some large cushions a few blankets and a basket.

“I thought I would show you a little hospitality and tradition.” Kei let go of my hand briefly to climb onto the small craft and then held out his hand again to help me get on board as well.

“We are going boating?” I giggled as the whole thing rocked under my feet. The idea of mixing something traditional from his own country and a date was so him it made me happy.

“Punting. It is quite different but I trust you will enjoy yourself.” Kei’s correction came with all the patience I had come to expect from someone who knew so much and was used to sharing it in the course of his work.

“I think I’ve seen it before. It looked like the river had turned into Venice or something.” I sat down carefully feeling rather small when I looked back up at Kei.

“I can understand your comparison and whilst you can use a pole on both vessels a Punt is different to a Gondola.” He smiled and retrieved the long pole from the riverbank using it to cast off.

I watched him standing near my feet moving the pole through his hands with little effort. If you were really quiet you could hear the smooth wood, polished with years of use, slipping through the water and his palms.

“It doesn’t feel as safe as I thought it would.” I commented as the pole in his hand seemed to get stuck on something under the water and give a little tug that made the punt slightly rock.

“I assure you that I am an excellent Punter.” Kei’s expression was so deadpan and relaxed as he declared this I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I get the feeling your friends would be doubling over in laughter right about now hearing you say that.”

“Yes, they probably would. Thankfully they aren’t or I would have tipped them both into the Thames and made them swim.” He looked down at me. The shadows from the trees we were moving through were casting shadows on his pale skin. I didn’t miss how his playful eyes shone through the shade.

“You wouldn’t…”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I did consider placing the seat facing forward but selfishness prevented me from doing so. I wanted to see your face, forgive me.” The Devil faded in the light once more replaced by the charming Prince.

“You know I never once pictured you doing this?” I sunk back into the cushions, finding them much more comfortable than I thought they would be. The blankets as well were a mixture of textures but each one was thick and luxurious.

“Oh? Punting has been a traditional pastime in England since the 1860’s it really caught on by the 1880s and 1900s though. Before they became used for recreation these little crafts were used as part of the transporting of traders.” He spoke as he manoeuvred the pole and pushed us forward in the water. “Are you familiar with Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes of course it’s a children’s classic.” I happily nodded. I know it is kind of a strange thing to enjoy but I did genuinely love how knowledgeable he was and how he explained things. It was like having my own personal tour guide and professor.

“Quite so. Well, the author Lewis Carroll used to punt along the Thames and during one of his outings where he was with a friend’s children he started to tell the story of a curious little girl who followed a rabbit. He later put pen to paper and created the beloved tale as a gift.” He lowered his voice as if he had just shared a piece of information vital to national security.

“I didn’t know that.” I don’t know what face I was showing him when he looked down at me. His face seemed to soften, although it could also have been my imagination.

“Literature aside I thought I would show you some more of England than the inside of Raven or shopping in the capital.” I looked around at the countryside slowly passing. I knew there was more to London than concrete and cars but I didn’t think there was this much greenery.

“I thought the Thames was larger than this.” I mused and put my hand over the side dipping it in the cool water playing with the ripples made by the punt as it moved.

“It is. We are currently on one of its many streams. Still part of the river but not as heavy with the tourist trade. You will also know of the boating traditions between Oxford and Cambridge, yes?” Kei always seemed to become a little more animated when talking like this. It was like he suddenly had an outlet for all the bottled-up information and facts he had in that well-read brain of his.

“The boat race?” I titled my head against the sun and saw him nodding happily.

“Yes, it is covered by the media extensively at the time. Well, the competition between the two on these waters doesn’t stop with rowing. There is a traditional Oxford way to Punt and then there is the traditional Cambridge version.” Kei grimaced theatrically as he explained.

“Haha, you don’t sound like you approve of the Cambridge way.”

“I am an Oxford man.” He almost seemed to stand up straighter as he said that. “The flat raised planking behind you is called the Till. A Cambridge man would stand on the Till and punt like so.” He stepped over me and demonstrated what he meant. It caused the punt to lurch which had me clinging to the sides of it thinking it might tip us both in the water. “Whereas an Oxford man, He will stand in the punt and work from here.” Kei stepped back into the punt and resumed moving us from inside. The vessel settled back down and I ended up breathing a sigh of relief. “Also a notable difference is the till. Following Oxford tradition, it is always facing front in the direction one is moving."

"I had no idea there were so many traditions.”

“There are more but I fear any more information will bore you under this hot sun. Here should be suitable.” He pushed the punt so it brushed up against the bank again this time next to what looked like a very secluded spot. The grass was short and looked to be recently cut. Surrounding it were high hedges and some trees.

“What is this place?” I asked as we left the punt for more stable ground.

“You will find them all around. They are locations people usually used for picnics.” Kei spoke as he stuck the pole into the bank and tied the punt to it.

“Are they all this well maintained?” I was still looking around. I don’t think I have ever been to a part of London that has ever made me feel so totally alone. It was pleasantly unusual.

“The ones that are owned are yes. This is one of my family’s spots.” He leant over and scooped up the basket and grabbed a blanket. With them in hand, he then walked into the centre of the grass and quickly set up.

“What do you have hidden away in your basket of tricks?” I sat down on the blanket and waited for him to reveal his secrets.

“We have tea, the very seasonal and traditional strawberries and cream.” He placed a flask down next to the punnet of fresh fruit and a pot of thick white cream. “We also have peanut butter sandwiches…”

“You made this picnic, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help but giggle. When he said he had things to do in his note I thought it would have been work-related. Now I had visions of him shopping and preparing this picnic instead.

“What is wrong with it?” He asked. His golden hair shining like a halo under the sun.

“Nothing just it's very you. If you had brought the basket from somewhere or had someone else make it, I doubt peanut butter would have made it on the menu.” It was true he could have ordered it from room service or had it made up somewhere in town and just brought it along. The fact that he actually made anything himself was endearing.

“Did you want something different?” His expression shifted and he looked like a child that was waiting to be scolded.

“No this is perfect.” I reached over and took one of the sandwiches from the plate in his hands.

“I did think of bringing some Pimms but I reconsidered.” Kei recovered fast, the cracks in his mask reformed.

“Why?”

“The time of day for one thing. I mean as Kazuomi would argue it's five o’clock somewhere but I would hate for you to be so drunk you fell overboard.” He poured some tea from the flask and handed it to me. Our fingers touching for a second, more than long enough for me to realise his body temperature was still as cold as normal.

“We both know I have a better tolerance to alcohol than that.” How can he do that? It was so hot the world could be melting and Kei would still be sitting there in a pullover surrounded by his own internal climate control. “You said this was one of the quieter parts of the River. Why come here? Oops!”

I had been so concerned with not spilling the tea he had given me I had completely misjudged the integrity of the sandwich in my hand. Part of it failed to make it to my mouth and vanish down the neckline of the dress. Embarrassment threatened to bloom inside me and I really hoped Kei had missed what I had just done.

“Is it a crime to want to spend some time alone with my girlfriend?” His voice was so close and I hadn’t felt the blanket move or even seen him shift. Yet he was right next to me his face so close to mine I could feel his breath in my ear. “Honestly I did think of following one of the other paths of the river. There are more pubs and places to go along them but I wanted to enjoy something more scenic with you.” He trailed his fingers along my choker and then slipped them down the front of my dress. “Now I’m glad I made this choice.”

“Something about how you just said that makes me think you weren’t referring to a quiet picnic together.” I acted cooler than I felt. I knew he could feel my heart beating and see the pulse running wild in my neck. All the time I faked being calm as his fingers extradited the rogue peanut butter sandwich from my body.

“You always were very observant.” I followed his hand as it carried the salvaged food to his own mouth. Those eyes of his locked on me looking like pools of golden lust.

They drew me to him like a spell and held me there as he locked me up in his arms, his hands roamed freely over me. Tumbling back together onto the blanket the picnic was threatening to be forgotten.

“Mmm Kei.” My breathy cry came out as he nibbled on my collarbone and began moving a hand up my leg under the fabric of the dress.

“Careful now. It might be a secluded spot but there is no telling who you might summon with a voice like that.” He teased as his fingers did some teasing of their own. Rubbing the outline of my sex through the sheer fabric of his favourite lace panties.

“As long as one of the people I summon is you I don’t care.” I was done with coy. Coy and demure didn’t get you anywhere fast with this man. There was a time and place for all that and when we were alone and things were heating up was not one of those times.

“Mmm, have I ever told you how stunning you are when you are honest with your desires?” He slipped his fingers past the lace pressing his thumb onto my clit before pumping a couple of digits inside me. I wanted to moan louder but his warning from before made me stop.

I looked up and found him smirking. He knew I was holding back. He knew I was trying to be a good girl but damn him if he wasn’t trying to break me.

“I don’t think I can remember.” Two could play that game and I tried to make it look like I was still in control. With every stroke from his hand, I was losing my sanity, but I kept up a strong front and played the game.

“Then I’ll have to take my time and remind you.” He moved on top of me his hand still driving a fever through my core as he spread my legs wide with his own.

“What about the picnic?”

“There is time enough for both. I don’t intend to let anything here on this blanket go to waste.”

His voice purred erotically as he slid the zip on the dress down my back and dragged the bodice low enough to expose my breasts. The cap sleeves I had thought were a nice addition were now part of the binding of fabric that was preventing my arms from freely moving.

Kei brushed his fingers over the lace of the bra and once more slid his hand inside. Treating each nipple to a firm pinch as he ravished my mouth with his tongue. I squirmed under him trying to wrap my legs around his and return the restraint in kind.

“Hehe, you really are the only one that has ever tried to dominate me.” His laugh was like a clear bell whilst the things he was doing to me had my head crashing like a drum.

“Kei… please stop teasing me already.” I moved some more only to find his weight was gone. He had stopped touching me completely and was sitting back on his heels looking at me.

“As My Lady commands.”

I watched as he licked his hand clean and used the other to undo his belt and trousers. It wasn’t unusual for him to remain clothed but it rarely happened where it was so bright. I bit my lip as he rolled my dress higher exposing all of me. He said nothing as he undid the strings on the panties and placed them into his pocket. The silence was deafening given how aroused I was. He leaned over and dipped a strawberry into the thick cream holding it just out of reach of my mouth.

“Eat it.” His command seemed absolute even if it was given in a sugary-sweet tone. I tried to stretch for it but couldn’t. His eyes twinkled and his smile became more wicked. “I guess if you can’t be a good girl then I’ll just have to treat you like a bad one instead.”

I felt my core tighten as he brought his palm down with a crack against my bare thigh. He pressed down on me again. His mouth connecting with mine. Fruit and cream filled my senses as he used his own mouth to feed me. The escaped juices were lapped up by his tongue as he arranged himself to take this to the next level.

“Ah!” A slight sharpness ripped through my body and was quickly numbed as the pleasure of us finally connecting took over. With each rock of his body, it moved my body against the ground far more than the swaying of any boat.

Our mouths connected again and again at different angles to the point where I was sure I had forgotten to breathe. His fingers ran through my hair sometimes pulling grabbing at it but each time it only emphasised his desire for me and made my whole body tingle.

I never did find out if anyone else was around as Kei had said or if it was all just another layer to his devilish lies to set the mood. I did discover that I would never be able to eat a picnic again without the addition of a peanut sandwich.

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#summer of smut #summer of smut content creation challenge

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 years

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Baby’s First Christmas–Zac Efron

Masterlist

"Zac, honey, where's. . . "

I sighed when my husband turned around with our six-month-old daughter in his arms.

"She's supposed to be asleep," I chuckled as I walked over to them.

"She wanted to see the tree," he said nodding towards the tree we just finished decorating.

I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist. I smiled as he started humming White Christmas. I looked over at Lucy and chuckled as her eyes started to get drowsy.

"She really should be in bed, babe," I whispered. "It's late."

"Fine," he sighed dramatically. "When you're older, remember this night, Luc. Mommy sent you to bed, not Daddy."

"Gee thanks," I joked.

I kissed our daughter's head before Zac carried her to the nursery. I smiled and watched as Zac gently put Lucy in her crib. Instead of leaving, he looked down at her and watched as she fell asleep.

I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. "You okay?" I whispered.

"This is going to be a great Christmas."

* * * * *

I held Lucy as Zac hung the lights outside. All week, Zac has been running around like crazy trying to get ready for the holiday. I bit my lip as he started to climb higher on the ladder.

"Honey," I said subconsciously tightening my arms around Lucy. "Please be careful. Maybe. . . Maybe we should wait for your brother."

"He's late," Zac said as he struggled to find the hook. "And we need to get this done before we go to the Christmas Tree Farm and pick out another tree."

"Another tree? We already. . . We already have a tree."

"I wanted to put a tree in Lucy's room," he said.

"In Lucy's room? Zac. . . Honey, please come down."

I gasped as Zac almost fell off the ladder. I held my breath as he caught himself and carefully climbed down the ladder. He looked up at me and walked over, taking Lucy from me.

"You okay?" He asked as he bounced Lucy.

"Why did you. . . We could've. . " I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair. "Zac, honey, you could've fallen off that ladder. And then what? We spend Christmas in the ER?"

"I'm sorry."

"You have to be careful," I started rambling. "I need you, Zac. We need you. It isn't just you and me anymore. We have a daughter. She needs you to be careful."

Zac walked over and wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my lips. We laughed and broke the kiss as Lucy pushed us apart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I'm sorry too," I sighed. "I just got scared for a second."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * * * *

Lucy was in her booster seat playing with some dough while Zac and I made Christmas sugar cookies. I looked over and laughed as I saw Zac covered in flour, struggling to roll out the dough.

"This won't stop sticking to the stupid rolling pin," Zac said angrily between grunts.

"Here," I chuckled as I grabbed his pin and rubbed some flour on it. "Now try it."

Zac smirked when he rolled the pin over the dough without it sticking. "Thanks," he chuckled. "I'm an idiot."

"That's okay," I giggled. "You're my idiot."

We spent the next little bit rolling out cookies and placing them in the oven. As they cooked, we watched Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.

"Damn it!"

I put Lucy down in her playpen and walked into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"They're burnt," he said, his jaw clenched as he placed the pan of burnt cookies on the counter.

"Okay," I shrugged. "Babe, we have like two dozen more that we haven't even cooked yet."

I watched as he threw the oven mitt on the counter and angrily ran his fingers through his hair.

"Zac, are you okay?"

"I can't believe I burned the cookies," he said under his breath. I walked over and wrapped my arms around his neck. I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. When we broke apart, I lowered back down onto my toes.

"They are just cookies," I whispered. "We have two dozen more."

"You wouldn't have burned them," he mumbled. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed his chin and made him look back at me.

"They are just cookies," I repeated. "Let me hear you say it."

Zac sighed as he sent me a playful glare before sighing. "They are just cookies," he said slowly.

I opened my mouth to say something but stopped when Lucy started to cry.

"Sounds like it's time for her nap," I giggled. I pressed another kiss to his cheek before leaving to get her.

I stopped in the doorway and noticed Zac still fixated on the burnt cookies. My heart sank when I saw how upset he was. I was about to say something when Lucy cried again.

After laying her down, I walked back into the other room. I hesitated when I saw Zac flipping through one of Lucy's Christmas books. He looked over his shoulder when he heard me walk in.

"Is she asleep?" He asked, the disappointment in his voice.

"She is," I said as I walked over and leaned over the couch, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kissed his cheek, my lips lingering.

"What's going on, babe?" I whispered. "You've been oddly intense this entire holiday."

"I just," he sighed. I walked around the couch and sat next to him. I reached up and started running my fingers through his hair.

"Talk to me," I gently encouraged.

"I wanted Lu's first Christmas to be special, but everything I've tried to do has failed."

"Zac," I sighed. "Babe, that is a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Her first Christmas doesn't need to be perfect. She's six-months-old. Odds are, Lucy won't remember a Christmas until she's at least a few years old. Let's just focus on spending Christmas together as a family."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I was talking to Seth and he kept saying how hard it was to be a husband, a father, and an actor. I guess. . . I guess it started to get to me. I was away more than half your pregnancy, Y/N. You had to do a lot of the shopping alone. You had to get the nursery ready on your own. You had to do almost everything without me. All because of my job. And I didn't want you to feel like a single mom because you're not."

"I know that," I smiled. "I also know that you'll always be there for me and Lucy. And any other kids we have."

"I almost missed Lucy's birth because my flight was delayed," he said, grabbing my hand that wasn't playing with his hair and intertwining our fingers.

"But you made it," I said clearly. "Honey, I have never felt like a single mother. You bought some baby things online when you were in Germany and had them sent here. You forced your brother to come help me set up the crib when you were in London. Your mom planned and hosted an entire baby shower for me. You got to the hospital right when I needed you. You even volunteered to quit acting all-together when I first got pregnant."

"I just. . ." He stuttered.

"No," I gently cut him off. "Zac, you have always been there when I needed you. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I married you. Hell, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating. I'm going to say it again; you have always been and will always be here when I need you. That is all I care about."

I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. I giggled as he instantly deepened the kiss by pulling me onto his lap. Before things could get too heated, Zac broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

"I promise," he whispered, "if you ever need me, I will hop on a plane, a bus, a boat, a train, rent a car and drive, whatever it takes to get to you. I will always be there when you need me."

"And that is why I love you," I chuckled.

"I love you too," he smirked as he pressed his lips to mine. Before we could get too carried away, I broke the kiss.

"Zac," I said gently, "can we please focus on having a good Christmas instead of the perfect Christmas?"

He sighed as he tightened his arms around my waist. "Okay," he gave in. "I will change my focus from having the perfect Christmas to having a fun Christmas with my wife and daughter."

"Good," I giggled as I tightened my arms around him.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," I whispered when our lips were inches apart. I closed the gap between us and we instantly started moving our lips in sync.

"Babe?" I mumbled against his lips.

"Yes?" He chuckled.

"We still have two dozen cookies."

"Oh yeah," he said slowly breaking the kiss. "We should probably get them cooked and decorated before Lucy wakes up."

#zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader #zac x wife #zac x family

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scotianostra · 3 years

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Good Morning from Scotland

Sunrise from Lochiel Road Inverlochy.

The street was probably named after Ewen Cameron of Lochiel,(1629-1719) . There is a great story about Lochiel, so what better way to start the day!

The building of the Fort of Inverlochy (later to become Fort William) in 1654 to suppress local insurrection and warfare, inevitably led to much confrontation between the British Soldiers of Cromwell and the Clan Cameron, led by their chief Ewen Cameron. Significant skirmishes took place at Achdalieu, Strone Nevis and Achintore, all in the year 1654.

It began when two thousand Cromwellian troops, under General Monk came equipped with one year's supplies, workmen, servants and ample materials to construct the garrison. Ewen Cameron heard of their entry into Lochaber and rushed back home and was most probably shocked by what he would find. Within a day the Cromwellians, using the plentiful woods of the area as a resource, had already firmly entrenched themselves in Lochaber behind a wooden stockade.

Ewen kept just thirty-two of his bravest men with him, retiring to the woods of Achdalieu where they would await the return of their forces and wait for a chance to strike against the enemy. The commander of the fort, a Colonel Brayne, would soon order nearly three hundred of his men out of the fort, to cut "some fine old oak trees." Two ships of soldiers sailed from the fort into Loch Eil, one anchoring on Ewen's side of the loch, the other ship on the opposite shore. The young Chief of Clan Cameron counted one hundred and thirty-eight of the enemy on his lochside, in addition to officers and workmen. Returning to his men Ewen asked their advice on what they might do "now that such a party of the enemy had offered their throats to be cut."

Ewen Cameron of Lochiel decided to make the British Army pay with their lives each and every time they set foot outside their fort. The Camerons would "take a bite" out of the Cromwellian soldiers during each such outing, beginning that very day at Achdalieu. Ewen's scouts brought word that the Cromwellian soldiers who had landed nearby were slowly made their way to the village of Achdalieu , pillaging houses and capturing poultry along the way. Though given orders to march slowly through the woods to engage the enemy, the Camerons ran on ahead, eager to expel their unwanted guests. The Cromwellians heard their charge, for though only 32 in number, the Camerons must have sounded like an entire regiment, utilising the cover of the woods to confound the enemy just as Ewen had hoped. Led by their courageous chief these "sons of the hound," armed with muskets, broadswords, dirks, targes and bow and arrow, rushed upon the soldiers.

For every Cameron there were four soldiers from the Fort armed with heavy muskets and bayonets. Immediately the Cromwellian soldiers fell into an extreme sense of panic, for they had fired much too soon. Long before they had a chance to re-load the Highlanders were upon them. Thirty of the enemy were dead instantly, with the "point blank" discharge of the Cameron firearms. The subsequent cutting wounds inflicted upon the redcoats were said to be beyond belief. Needless to say broadswords will inflict great damage upon an enemy, but they also were reported to have hewed through a good number of bayonets and into musket barrels. After what has been described as a "stiff fight" the remaining 60 or so living Cromwellians were put to flight.

Lochiel craftily sent two or three of his men ahead of the retreating enemy and had them call out from behind a bush, as to make the enemy imagine that they were heading into another body of Camerons. While this strategy slowed the return to their boats, it also enraged the redcoats, who were still superior in numbers to the Camerons. In the midst of the battle Ewen was separated from his men, after following a few of the enemy into the woods where he killed two or three of them with his "own hand."

As fate would have it the English officer who had commanded the party had also fled in this direction and had concealed himself behind a nearby bush.

Observing that the Chief of Clan Cameron was alone he emerged from his hiding place intent on avenging the deaths of his men. Facing off to one another with swords these two gentlemen fought for both survival and honour. Their swordsmanship being of a somewhat equal match, they fought on as the redcoats continued to be hounded by the Cameron men. It is said that the English officer was a large, powerful foe, but that Ewen exceeded him in agility. In due time the Englishman's sword was tripped out of his hand, leaving Ewen poised for the kill. This was to be denied, for the redcoat pounced upon Ewen and wrestled him to the ground. They struggled and fought one another, eventually tumbling down into the nearby channel of a brook or stream, which happened to be dry.

The Englishman found himself atop of Ewen and proceeded to use his great size to drive the Cameron Chief deeply into the sharp stones. After some time, during which the two men fought with their last remaining strength, the English officer regained the use of a free hand, with which he drew the dagger from upon his belt. While keeping his full weight upon Ewen, to hold him to the ground, the Englishman attempted to stab his foe, but was unable to in such close quarters. In the end he finally managed to disengage himself, raising high above Ewen for the death blow. In those moments of battle, when one is faced with impending death, desperation and fury combine with one another into a formidable defence. Ewen at long last saw his opportunity, which he must have realised would be his last chance of survival. He reached up and grabbed his opponent by the collar, jumping at the extended throat which presented itself at that moment. The English officer, at full extension with his dagger above Ewen, was defenceless; his throat was bitten and torn from his body. As Ewen reflected in his later years "it was the sweetest bite" that he had ever experienced. The Camerons lost only five men on that day.

Many years later, when more civil relations had been restored Lochiel found himself in London at a barbers shop to get his beard and hair dressed. The barber sat him in his chair and producing his razor remarked: " You are from the north, sir, I believe ? "" Yes," answered Lochiel, " I am. Do you know people from the north ? "

" No," shouted the angry barber, " nor do I wish to. They are savages there - one of them tore the throat out of my father with his teeth, and I only wish I had the fellow's throat as near me as I have yours just now." On this occasion Lochiel did not challenge him and it is said he never again entered a barber's shop. Soon after the fight at Achdalieu , the Ewen requested those of his people who lived near the Cromwellian garrison of Inverlochy to "make their peace" with the Governor, that they should live peaceably towards himself and his garrison. This was soon arranged and the Cameron people were secured from ruin during their leader's absence from the district. The Governor, however again sent parties to bring in wood and other materials to strengthen his fortifications - materials belonging to the Camerons, if not Ewen himself.

Being kept well informed of what was occurring at Inverlochy the young Chief of Clan Cameron returned to the district and immediately placed a body of his most resolute followers in a secure place, less than one-half mile westward of the fort. That same morning a body of two hundred men came out from the garrison, marching in Ewen's direction. Observing them, he detached twenty of his men to a secret place, to the rear of the enemy - between them and the garrison - with orders to rush out and intercept them in case they retreated, as they naturally would when attacked in front by the Camerons. The Cromwellian party marched in "good order" until they arrived at the village of Achintore , where Ewen and his band lay concealed. The Camerons furiously rushed forward, scattering their enemies in all directions.

The memory of the battle of Achdalieu struck fear into their hearts, when they found themselves so suddenly and unexpectedly attacked by a force of strength of which they did not know and could not ascertain. The men in ambush rushed forth to intercept them in their flight, giving the Cromwellians a full charge of their firelocks in front and then charged with their broadswords, killing more than half their number. Those who escaped were pursued to the walls of the fort, but many of them were taken prisoner.

Once more, Ewen, XVII Captain and Chief of Clan Cameron left Lochaber and again heard that the Governor of Inverlochy was taking advantage of his absence, cutting down large quantities of his woods to supply the garrison with an ample supply of fuel during the upcoming winter. Annoyed at this, he returned from his military commitments elsewhere and found that the English soldiers had been cutting down the woods on the shoulder of Ben Nevis , about one mile eastward from the garrison. Ewen marched to this point, called Strone Nevis, early on the following morning after his arrival. He carefully posted his men and gave then the necessary instructions. Ewen kept sixty, under his own immediate command, in a tuft of wood at a point opposite where the soldiers sent out from the garrison with the hewers of the wood always took up their position. Two other bodies of thirty men each were told off to his right and left, respectively, where they were concealed. They were instructed to rush forth as soon as the concerted signal was given, which was to be a great shout of "Advance, Advance!" as if the wood was full of men. The remainder of his men he placed in a pass between the wood and the garrison, to lie in ambush and not to move out of that unless they found that the enemy was making a successful resistance when attacked by the Highlanders in front. If these men laying in ambush noticed their enemies running away, in retreat, they were to rush forward in advance of them, place them between two fires by giving them a volley in front and then attack them with their broad-swords. The object was to kill as many as they could. They were, however, specially ordered to give quarter to any who offered to lay down his arms and surrender.

About four hundred Cromwellians marched out of the garrison, taking their usual position, quite innocent of the fate which immediately awaited them. Everything turned out as Ewen anticipated; a general slaughter at once ensued. The Highlanders, issuing forth from their places of concealment, made a great noise, loudly echoed by the surrounding mountains. This, accompanied by the simultaneous sounds of several bagpipes, frightened the enemy, who in consequence made no resistance. They truly believed themselves surrounded by large bodies of Highlanders pouring in upon them from all sides and immediately fled at their highest speed. More than one hundred of the Cromwellians were killed on the spot and the remainder, having been attacked unexpectedly by those in ambush between them and the garrison, were part of a second slaughter.

Not more than a third of the four hundred escaped. These were pursued to the walls of the garrison and the whole battle was over so quickly that it became a matter of history before the Governor actually knew that his men had even been attacked.

Not one single Cromwellian officer escaped, they being the only men among the garrison troops who had the courage to offer any resistance to the Camerons. Among them was a young gentleman, a great "favourite" of the Governor who, exasperated at the loss of his friend and that of his men, became furious and swore immediate revenge upon Ewen and the entire Clan Cameron. The next morning the Governor ordered out the entire garrison, some 1,500 men. Ewen, as usual, obtained advance notice of this action and moved his men to higher ground, keeping in view of the enemy as he himself "marched round the mountains, with pipes playing and colours flying." He made every effort to induce the Cromwellian commander to follow him, to get him entangled in the woods, narrow paths and other obstructions abounding in the area, where he could be successfully attacked. The Governor was too wary to fall into the trap prepared for him.

After traversing many difficult and rugged paths the Cromwellian forces turned right about and by the help of good guides found their way back to the garrison, heartily fatigued and disgusted with the fruitless expedition. The Camerons, following closely on their heels, repeatedly insulted the Governor and his followers. Whenever the nature of the ground favoured, and when they came to close quarters, they invited the Cromwellians to advance "for their Chief was there, ready to receive their Governor, if he wished to speak to him." They were also said to have uttered several other "very tantalising and insulting remarks." Needless to say, after this the garrison of Inverlochy was on better guard when they dared to venture from their fortification.

#scotland #scottish highlands #inverlochy #fort william #history

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“I finished crying in the instant that you left, And I can't remember where or when or how, And I banished every memory you and I had ever made! But when you touch me like this, and you hold me like that, I just have to admit that it's all coming back to me... When I touch you like this, and I hold you like that, It's so hard to believe, but it's all coming back to me... It's all coming back -- it's all coming back to me now... There were moments of gold And there were flashes of light -- There were things I'd never do again, But then they'd always seemed right...”

~“It’s All Coming Back to Me,” by Celine Dion

x~x~x~x

AUGH, my heart! I blame this 100% on @mira-shard sending me that ship ask for my book-smart, people-dumb spaceman Jacob Cromwell and his boy best friend Duncan and reminding me how friggin’ much I adore these two. They hurt my heart so much and yet I love them with all of my heart and soul. ;~;

This is set toward the end of Carewyn’s sixth year, right after that certain Redacted event. This is also the first time these two have seen each other since Duncan died...and yeah, as you can expect, their reunion was pretty damn feelsy.

Jacob Cromwell had been working hard on his own almost all of that school year to reach the Sunken Vault before Rakepick, but after finding out that R was still actively targeting Carewyn by sending members like the Wizard in White after her, he became all the more determined to try to force them away from the Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately for Jacob, R was one step ahead of him. Using the blood they’d managed to collect after badly injuring Jacob the previous year, they had Blaise Cromwell use Polyjuice Potion to masquerade as his nephew and sneak into the school so as to have access to his niece Carewyn, who R’s leader (Jacob and Carewyn’s cold-hearted maternal grandfather Charles Cromwell) ultimately wanted among their ranks as well.

While masquerading as Jacob, Blaise learned Carewyn was still planning on chasing after the Vaults, with the blessing of Mad-Eye Moody, who was currently investigating R himself, and after putting on a weak act of discouraging her, he “accepted her help” and subtly encouraged her to not tell her friends anything else about the Vaults, supposedly for “their safety,” but truthfully because Blaise didn’t want Carewyn to have ties anywhere outside of their family and organization. Blaise did suss out, however, that there were a few people in Carewyn’s circle of associates who were reluctant to leave the Cursed Vaults alone and “stay out of R’s business,” including Ben Copper, who Blaise in particular felt a searing distaste for, given that he was not only a “filthy Mudblood,” but he also was one of Carewyn’s first friends who was incredibly overprotective of her. After Blaise discussed the matter with his father Charles, it was decided that R should “deal” with Ben Copper the same way R had dealt with Duncan Ashe -- namely, to make an example out of him, which would not only scare Carewyn into line, but also take out a potential threat to their overall plan to isolate their target so they’d have no one else to fall back on.

Just as they had whenever Blaise infiltrated the school, R purposefully led Jacob away from the grounds, this time with the Wizard in White as a decoy. Since the Wizard had recently threatened Carewyn’s life, Jacob immediately charged after him with a vengeance, determined to hunt him down and kill him so that he’d never touch “his Pip” again. Unfortunately after several weeks of doggedly pursuing the Wizard in White all across London, he escaped, and Jacob in utter frustration was forced to return to Hogwarts and continue trying to access the Sunken Vault, even if he knew no way to do so without both of the Coral Keys that unlocked the outer and inner doors. It was only when Jacob returned to Scotland that he learned Rakepick had returned to Hogwarts the day he first left and had killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- and it was a few days later, late at night, that Jacob was confronted by a familiar voice in the Lakehouse that was his hiding place.

“So you are here, then.”

Jacob’s heart stopped. Whipping out his white Aspen wand, the ex-Ravenclaw whirled around so violently that he nearly knocked over the overturned boat on the floor behind him.

Hovering over him was a translucent shape of a seventeen-year old wizard. He wore Hogwarts robes, but due to the bluish-gray tint of his form, the uniform’s house colors weren’t identifiable. Not that Jacob would’ve needed to try to guess what house he’d been in -- he already knew the young man was in Slytherin. Jacob had gone to talk to him in their very first year all because he was a Slytherin and could answer that random question Jacob had had about the Slytherin commonroom...

Jacob’s almond-shaped blue eyes went very wide, losing almost all of their light, as his face blanched.

“...Ashe...?”

His voice left his lips in such a hushed whisper, it was like the breath had passed his lips without any diction whatsoever.

Duncan crossed his arms moodily. “Long time no see, Jacob. I’m curious -- did your sister just not tell you I was still around, or did you actively decide I wasn’t worth a visit?”

Jacob’s blue eyes flooded with pain as he shakily lowered his wand arm.

“Ashe...” he whispered again feebly.

The facial reaction didn’t move Duncan -- instead he plowed on.

“I mean, Hell, apparently Madame Pince even managed to catch sight of you before I did. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though...you always did run to books for all your answers, rather than use any common sense -- ”

Jacob did not know what Duncan was talking about, but in that moment, he had trouble articulating that on top of everything else he was feeling. It felt like his heart had swollen up in his chest and was slamming up against his ribs, throbbing with pulsing pain as he clumsily tucked his wand back into his robes.

“Ashe...” he tried again, but it was no use. His throat was so tight, it was like it was being squeezed...

“Then again,” laughed Duncan humorlessly, “‘common sense’ was never exactly common for you, was it? Nor was tact, patience, humility, sensitivity, or even a shred of self-control -- ”

“Ashe -- ”

“I mean, if I’d abandoned the precious little sister who I’d never bloody shut up about for seven years,” said Duncan in a very harsh, cutting voice, “I probably wouldn’t have immediately abandoned her again and only bothered checking in with her after finding out that someone might want to kill her because of me! You kept saying to me, ‘I gotta protect Pip,’ ‘I’ve gotta take care of Carewyn’ -- well, where the Hell were you, Jacob? Where were you this last month!? Where were you after she broke you out of that Vault!? Where were you, when I had to pick up your slack?! Just like I always do -- just like I’ve always done, ever since you waltzed your way into my -- !?”

“Ashe!”

The surname came out oddly choked. Duncan looked Jacob in the face fully for the first time, and immediately faltered.

The ex-Ravenclaw had hunched in on himself in the face of Duncan’s tirade. His hollowed-out blue eyes were very weak and rippling with moisture that he fiercely fought back. Although his shoulders hadn’t crumpled, they were shaking, as were his hands as they clutched at the sleeves of his elegant scarlet dress robes. His...very familiar scarlet dress robes...

Something twitched in Duncan’s expression.

“Ashe...you...” Jacob gave a very painful-looking swallow. “...You’re here.”

Duncan tried to glower at him. “Well spotted.”

He hated how much Jacob was shaking, and how it looked like he was fighting back tears. Jacob didn’t respond to Duncan’s sarcasm -- he appeared unable to.

“You’ve...been here all this time...all these years...you stayed behind?”

His voice was very quiet. He clutched at the sleeves of his dress robes.

“I thought you’d gone on!” Jacob burst out, his voice very strained. “I thought -- you’d left...”

“Well, clearly I didn’t!” Duncan shot back, more defensively that he’d intended. He didn’t like seeing Jacob like this -- didn’t like seeing him so upset -- didn’t like how...his voice echoed with something like remorse...longing...

Jacob’s hands shook more as he squeezed his arms in a vice grip, staring at Duncan as if he were a faded photograph he hadn’t seen in years and wished to carve into his memory before it became too damaged to salvage.

“When I was in the Portrait, I spent days and weeks wishing I could have just one more minute with you -- maybe fifteen, or thirty, just -- enough time to tell you every little thing I never did before...”

Jacob seemed unable to finish. He broke off, his head falling so that his eyes fell into shadow.

“...But -- but knowing you are here -- that you’re here like this...after I couldn’t save you, after R targeted us -- ”

Duncan flinched. The pain and self-hatred in Jacob’s eyes -- it looked just like the kind he’d seen in another pair of blue almond-shaped eyes not too long ago, in response to her having lost her best friend. At the time Duncan had briefly wondered if Jacob had reacted as badly to his death as Carewyn did Rowan Khanna’s, but had pushed off the thought. It was something he couldn’t believe -- didn’t want to believe.

“Ashe...” Jacob murmured. His voice had become rather level and absent, as it always was when he was thinking, even though the clenched hands on his arms were still shaking terribly, “Ashe, I’ve been such a fool...I don’t know how I never saw it before...how much I cared, how much I wanted you -- wanted us to...be an ‘us’...to swoop in and just...take you home to Pip and Mum, and...be a family together -- to break curses and travel the world and get into fights and then kiss and make up and get into trouble and then out of it again and laugh a lot and do stupid stuff and change the world and...maybe, I dunno, adopt some kids down the road or something -- I’d probably be a pretty lousy father, and we could’ve completely fallen apart, and the whole thing could’ve ended up being a mistake, but...thinking on it, all those years...all I could come back to over and over again was hating not knowing -- not knowing if we could’ve been happy together, if...well, even if we were a disaster, at least we still could’ve been something -- had something -- ”

Duncan felt a familiar burning sensation in the back of eyes, and it made him lash out.

“GET BENT, JACOB CROMWELL!”

Jacob’s head shot up, taken aback. Duncan held up a clenched fist as if he longed to punch Jacob right in the face.

“I’m mad at you!” shouted Duncan. “I’m allowed to be mad at you! After every mistake you made, for every bloody mistake you’re still making and will no doubt make for the rest of your sodding life, I should be mad at you! You never bloody learn and you always dash headlong into situations without using that brilliant brain of yours to think twice! And yet you...”

Duncan’s eyes were filling up with tears.

“You...you’re making it bloody impossible! I want to yell at you! I want to hate you! I want to know you never cared and I was a fool for ever wasting my time on you, because otherwise my whole reason for staying behind -- ”

The thought hurt Duncan too much, and he furiously shoved the end of that sentence away.

“I want to resent you for the rest of my undead days, and yet there you go, looking like that and rambling on like an idiot and...and...”

A tear leaked out the side of his eye. Despite the anger in his expression, Duncan was shaking too now. His other hand tentatively rose, hovering just shy of Jacob’s pale face as if he longed to touch it.

“...and...making me fall for you all over again,” choked Duncan, his voice very low and muffled in the back of his throat.

Jacob looked like he too was fighting back the urge to try to touch Duncan as he stared up into his light-less eyes. Like the rest of him, there was a tint of ghostly blueish-gray to them, even though they’d been such a warm, bright brown in life.

“Ashe...”

“Jacob, for the love of -- stop saying my name like that! I told you I’m mad at you!”

Even as he said it, Duncan’s transparent fingers grazed Jacob’s face, making Jacob shiver slightly at the cold as it passed through his skin.

“...Why?” said Duncan softly.

“What?”

“My robes,” Duncan clarified. “You kept them.”

Jacob’s eyes pulsed with emotion, both pained and almost offended.

“Well, of course I kept them,” he retorted hotly. “You gave them to me. Did you assume I’d just stick them in the back of my closet?”

“Sort of,” said Duncan a bit awkwardly.

Jacob’s face actually flickered with some righteous anger. “Because you wanted to believe I didn’t care?”

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Duncan shot back defensively. “What was I supposed to think, after you disappeared without a trace -- after all of the things I heard about you doing R’s dirty work -- ?”

“You KNEW R forced me to join them!” shouted Jacob. “You KNEW what they had over me -- what they almost did to Pip! You KNEW I would never, ever abandon Pip and Mum by my own choice -- ”

“I KNOW!” Duncan said fiercely.

The transparent hand that had been beside Jacob’s face clasped weakly at the air beside his hair, as if he longed to grab hold of it.

“...I know...” he said in a more hushed, strained voice.

Jacob’s blue eyes were still blazing with mild frustration.

“Ashe, I wore these robes for you, the night I went to the Portrait Vault,” he said lowly.

Duncan was startled.

“I wanted you with me, when I broke the last two Vaults’ curses -- when I saved Olivia...”

Jacob’s gaze betrayed a strange, almost beastly glint -- like vengeance, but much darker and more hostile.

“I wanted you with me when I demolished R and everything they’ve ever wanted and chased after. I still do. I want to make every last one of them pay for everything they took from me -- everyone they took from me.”

Duncan stared at Jacob, his expression strained with disbelief and something oddly touched.

“Jacob...”

He once again looked like he wanted to touch Jacob’s face, to trail his fingers through his dark curls. His light-less eyes fell away from Jacob’s and came down to rest on his lips instead.

“...You know I can’t help you do much of anything, like this.”

Jacob’s expression turned a bit more serious. “There is one thing you can do for me -- make sure Pip doesn’t leave the castle again. I heard Rakepick killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- I can’t let her do the same to -- ”

“You can’t shield Carewyn from R, Jacob,” said Duncan very sharply.

“I can and I will,” spat Jacob fiercely.

Duncan’s lips came together very tightly.

“Do you know who that person was?” the ghost said very lowly. “The one Rakepick killed?”

Jacob’s expression lost some of its anger, seeing how oddly grave Duncan’s expression had become.

“Her name was Rowan Khanna,” said Duncan. “Sixth year Slytherin, supposedly in the running to be Hogwarts Head Girl. ...She’s also your sister’s best friend.”

Jacob’s eyes went very, very wide in horror.

“...No...”

His head fell. His eyes stared down at the floor, but didn’t seem to see it -- his mind was racing, unable to keep up with the horror of this news.

“Carewyn was lured out to the Forest after finding a Quill addressed to you in your old room,” Duncan told him sharply. “Three of her friends followed her and tried to protect her when Rakepick confronted her there.” Duncan’s voice lowered significantly as he added, “....She’d been sent with orders from R to kill one of your sister’s friends -- to send a message.”

Jacob once again clutched at his own arms, his flurry of thoughts darting across his eyes as he stared at the floor.

“They played me,” he whispered. “They knew I wanted to protect Pip -- so they sent the Wizard in White to attack her at the Lakeshore, so I’d fear him going after her...so I’d chase after him to try to stop him, even if it meant leaving Pip alone...”

His head shot up, and his eyes were narrowed in urgency and confusion.

“You said there was a message for me, in my room? Pip found my room?”

“A few years ago, I believe,” said Duncan. “I reckon it would’ve been a logical place to look, if she wanted to figure out what the hell you were up to, before you vanished...if she could even have found anything, in that absolute mess you always worked out of -- ”

“But why would there have been a message for me there?” said Jacob, his eyebrows knitting together. “I haven’t gone in there since I was expelled...”

Duncan frowned. “Well, R might’ve heard about you going into the Library...”

“But that’s just it!” said Jacob. “I didn’t! I haven’t entered the school since I left! It’s not exactly easy to break into Hogwarts -- and if I did and got caught, then where would I be, in protecting Pip and stopping R? I can’t let them get into the Sunken Vault first!”

Duncan suddenly looked almost as troubled as Jacob.

“...So...you haven’t entered Hogwarts at all? But...then why did Pince and Filch see you inside?”

A thought struck his mind.

“...Jacob...when was the last time you spoke to your sister? Not just saw her, I mean, really spoke to her.”

Jacob frowned deeply. “Last year, in Knockturn Alley. Though we didn’t really have much time to talk then, either...”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed in anxiety. “Jacob...Carewyn told her friends that you ‘don’t tell her much, whenever you meet.’ That doesn’t sound like something that someone would say after only seeing her brother once in an entire school year. It sounds like someone who’s been meeting him regularly.”

Jacob stiffened visibly. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as they wandered over the walls and floor.

“Something’s not right,” he said lowly.

He turned on his heel, whipping out his white wand as he went.

“I need to find out what’s going on. Ashe...while I’m gone, please -- ”

“Jacob, stop.”

Duncan swept right through Jacob, making the smaller man shudder. The ghost hovered over Jacob, his translucent robes flapping silently on either side of him.

“Before you go running off without thinking again,” said Duncan sardonically, “talk to your sister.”

Jacob looked hesitant and slightly ashamed.

“I need to protect her -- ”

“No, you need to be there for her,” Duncan cut him off fiercely. “She’s just lost the first real friend she ever made in her life -- someone she cares about like few others. There’s only one person in this entire world who might know what that’s like...”

Duncan swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“...If you...truly cared, when I died, Jacob...then you’re the only person who might know what she needs, right now.”

Jacob closed his eyes and turned away, unable to reply. His fist clenched over the Aspen wand at his side.

“...Does she hate me?” he asked at last, very lowly. “Does she blame me...for what happened?”

Duncan’s eyes softened slightly. “You know she doesn’t.”

This didn’t seem to comfort Jacob, though. If anything, it made him more upset -- like he thought she should blame him.

Duncan exhaled heavily. “Jacob, please -- I know you want to protect Carewyn, and I know there’s not much time to stop R from reaching the Sunken Vault...but...”

A strange wry smile pricked at the corner of his lips.

“...if there’s one thing your sister has taught me...it’s how much knowing that someone cares -- that you’re not alone -- can mean.”

Jacob’s posture straightened slightly.

“She’s shouldered a lot by herself since you left, Jacob,” said Duncan. “Her friends are trying to help her with it now...but I think the help she really needs is yours.”

Jacob was silent for another long moment. Then he turned just enough to look at Duncan over his shoulder -- his lips had curled up in a crooked, sad smile.

“...You really did look after my Pip for me.”

Duncan gave a loud huff and crossed his arms. “It’s not like I could’ve not picked up your slack.”

His expression betrayed a bit more seriousness as he added, “...She’s a fine lass, Jacob.”

Jacob’s eyes squinted almost fondly. “She is.”

The smile then slid off his face.

“If Pip wants to see me, just...tell her to go out toward the Lake after dark and shoot up red sparks. I’ll come running right out to her. ...Will you tell her that, for me?”

Duncan nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you. And Ashe?”

“Yeah?”

Jacob swallowed.

“You know how I feel about you...right?”

Duncan’s expression turned rather snarky. “Of course I do. You kept me around so you’d have someone to show off to.”

Jacob immediately looked irritated, and Duncan quickly added in exasperation, “Oh, come on, you know I know! Just...”

His transparent cheeks darkened with a dark blue flush as he glanced away out the side of his eye.

“Just...say it anyway.”

Jacob’s expression cleared, slowly breaking out into a bright grin that made him look years younger.

“...I love you.”

Duncan closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose.

“I have for a while,” Jacob pressed on, “dunno really how long, but...”

“All right, that’ll do,” Duncan said under his breath brusquely, despite the dark flush still clinging to his face. “I love you too -- so don’t go off and get yourself killed too, all right?”

With this, Duncan swept right past Jacob, brushing through his hair as he disappeared through the Lakehouse’s wall and back toward the school.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #my writing #duncan ashe #jacob cromwell #carewyn cromwell #blaise cromwell #charles cromwell #*cranks up the celine dion*#THESE TWOOOO #I love putting them in AUs where they can actually be a couple and have a slightly happier ending where neither becomes a ghost #*eyes the potc au*#*and also the lotr au*#I may dislike the 'bury the gays' trope but I kind of like subverting by having duncan's death not be the end of either of their stories #or characters arcs for that matter #plus duncan gets to bond with his unofficial sister-in-law and help with the Vaults!!#yay #oh by the way duncan's wearing bell bottoms bc he and jacob went to school in the 70's #so I draw all of their uniforms with that 70's flair #I drew young!gilderoy lockhart with those bellbottoms on his school uniform once back in the day too #but yeah anyway #damn it jam city #duncan ashe deserves better #caps cw

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Island Dreams Chapter 2

Hi all,

my muse was active and I did manage to produce chapter 2 pretty quickly.

Hope you will like it.

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“You must be Rowan.” The man took a step toward her and gave her a wide smile and she felt butterflies in her stomach. He was wonderful and she had to restrain herself and not swoon live a lovestruck teenager. “Aye, it’s me. Sorry, I was through the back putting away an order.” He explained. He had the sexiest Scottish accent, which she thought must be a local one as it was similar to the ones she had heard around town. “I…” she muttered indicating at the window with her hand “I… love the window with Roald Dahl, by the way. I read all his book when I was younger and I still love him.” He walked to the counter and leaned against it and folded his arms at his chest. His t-shirt tightened at the movement and she noticed the muscles in his arms and the tattoo slithering from his wrist all the way under the sleeve. Why was it hot all of a sudden? “He was a great writer.” He timidly smiled at her. Aelin nodded “I am new.” She explained vaguely “I got here this morning. I was at the community centre and I asked for a bookstore and the lady there told me to come here. I am obsessed with bookshops, especially if they are small and independent." she explained, realising she was chatty all of a sudden. She saw him wince in annoyance and wondered if she had said something wrong. But the moment was gone and his smile came back pretty quickly. “Well, you are in the right place. I got a bit of everything. And if I don’t, let me know and I can order it for you.” Aelin smiled back at him and she started looking around the shop and enjoyed the view of the walls with bookcases full of books. She walked around exploring the shelves and stopped in front of the fantasy section. “Fantasy reader?” He commented when he noticed where she went. “Are you one of those snob people who thinks that Fantasy books are not real books?” Her tone was almost accusatory. She loved Fantasy books but on plenty occasions she had to defend her literary tastes to idiots. “I own a bookstore. I respect all kind of books.”

She started browsing and he followed her with his gaze. “You are not from around here, are you?” He pulled away from the counter and walked toward her. “I am….” She took a book from the shelf “I am from London.” “The capital.” His tone was flat and non interested. “Not a fan?” She turned to him and saw him shaking his head in dissent. She was about to tell him why she was on the islands but it seemed like a stupid idea. She did not know him, plus she was not in the mood to talk about her life down in London. “This one seems interesting.” Aelin picked the book and stood. Sounded like the female main character was badass and she loved badass females. “Was it Gaelic what you spoke when I came in? And what is the name of your shop?” Rowan did not answer and moved with purpose toward one shelf and picked up a book and got back to Aelin “Here.” He offered her the book “If you are interested. It can be a challenging language but it’s very beautiful.” Aelin grabbed the book and she noticed it was a course book to learn Gaelic and it was for beginners. “Thank you.” “Tapadh leat.” He told her “That’s how you say thank you in Gaelic. Your first lesson.” Aelin tried to pronounce the sentence again but it was not as lovely as how he said it. Rowan laughed and Aelin admired a nice smile blossom on his face and his green eyes seemed to shine even brighter. He was gorgeous and all she wanted to do was to run her hand through his short hair. What was wrong with her? “The name of the shop is paper dreams.” He replied to her question and again she noticed that touch of sadness in his eyes. And he did not elaborate any further. Somehow, given his reaction, she felt there was a history behind the name but she did not want to pry. “I love it.” He put the book on the counter near the till and silence fell between them. “I have a car. What do you recommend me to see in town and around?” “How long are you staying? So I have an idea.” Aelin placed the book on the counter “A while.” She was vague and for now that was all she knew. She was certain of one thing at the moment. She was not in a hurry to go back to London and her life. She searched in her bag for her purse while he was ringing the books through the till. “Did you just came off the boat this morning?” He asked, lifting his eyes to look at her. “I did.” “Breakfast.” He said and groaned at himself for not uttering a full sentence like a fully grown human being “I know a good place for breakfast. I can tell you some places to visit while you eat.” “I would love to.” She tapped her debit card at the machine and once it beeped conforming that the transaction had gone through, she put the purse away and and took the bag from him. “Come.” He came out of the counter and motioned for her to the door. He turned the sign to close and once they were out he locked the shop. “Aren’t customers going to complain that you are closed?” She joked. “Mornings are quiet.” They started walking and for a moment she thought they were going to An Lanntair but he turned again and they were on a side road and she noticed a small cafe. It had a couple of tables outside. They went in and a tall dark haired woman smiled and walked to Rowan as soon as she noticed him entering the coffee shop “Madainn mhath, mo ghràidh.” She caressed his face and he smiled brightly at the woman. “Madainn mhath.” He replied and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Aelin studied the interaction with interest. “Let’s sit.” He said to her and she noticed that he was a man of a few words and that very rarely smiled. They sat down at a table. The woman came to the table and started speaking in Gaelic but Aelin had no idea what she was saying. And she had a feeling the woman realised that, but Rowan came to her rescue. “Chan eil i Gàidhlig aice.” Rowan explained. “Oh, I am sorry darling.” The woman reverted to English and gave her a menu “If you are in for breakfast, this is the menu. Give me a shout when you are ready to order.” “I’ll take a coffee.” Rowan said and leaned against his chair. Aelin finally ordered her food and while she waited she took out her guide from her bag “So… I have marked down a few things. Let me know if they are worth it or not.” Rowan took the book from her hands and started looking at the pages that had been marked by post-its. “Callanish is an amazing site. Very historical. You definitely have to do it. You can get in touch with your pagan side. Then drive up to Dun Carloway which is an amazing broch. Then continue all the way to Gearrannan, the black house village. Quite a charming place. If you then walk all the way down to the beach you will have the Atlantic Ocean in front of you.” He used the map in the books and pointed at the places for her while he explained. Stay on the main road and this will take you north. Near Barvas there is a house that has a whale bone arch at the front. It’s quite impressive. After a bit of driving you arrive at the end of the road. There is a lighthouse and that is the Butt of Lewis.” Aelin giggled at the name but Rowan almost glared at her. “The views from there are quite amazing and once at the edge of the cliff you are surrounded by sea. Very near there there is a great beach called Eoropaidh and you can walk there if you follow a path.” He finished and pushed the book back to her. The coffee shop owner came back with their order and Aelin’s mouth was watering at the plate in front of her. “That sounds like a good plan for a day.” She commented while attacking her plate of food. “This is so good.” Aelin had a very satisfied look and was loving her generous portion of full Scottish breakfast. She lifted her eyes and noticed that Rowan was staring at her with a curious expression. “What?” She said before eating a piece of bacon “Hey don’t look at me like that. I just arrived. I am still a tourist and I intend to do all the silly tourist things.” A brief smile appeared on his face “Along the road that follows the river there is the tourist office. You might want to buy your fridge magnet and beat the horde of tourists that will be flocking here soon.” “Well…” she dragged and took a sip of her coffee “I might just as well do that. A nice tacky one that says Stornoway.” “It’s your money.” He added almost annoyed and his head turned outside to stare at the street. Finally he grabbed his coffee and emptied the cup. “Have to go back to the shop.” Then he stood “Have a nice day.” And he left before she had the time to blurt out a reply. What a strange man. She thought. He felt as if he was detached from the world. The only moments he noticed some emotion in him was inside the bookshop. “Don’t feel offended.” Said a voice at her side. Aelin stopped eating and noticed the coffee shop owner at her side sporting a big grin “He is like that with everyone. It takes him a while to get close to people. He wasn’t always like that.” The woman added with sadness and sat beside her on the chair that Rowan had vacated. “I am Maeve by the way. And Rowan is my nephew.” Aelin’s hand holding the fork stopped halfway on its way to her mouth. She had so many questions but she restrained herself. “I am Aelin.”she then added as soon as her brain started working again “I got here this morning. I met him at the bookshop. I went there straight away. I am obsessed with small independent bookstores.” “He has done a wonderful job with his shop,” she explained with pride in her voice “So, Aelin, do you have any adventures planned yet?” Aelin nodded eagerly. She was actually dying to get the car and follow the route Rowan had suggested “Rowan gave me some good ideas. I will finish breakfast, go to Tesco to buy some food for lunch and then that’s me off.” “Don’t be silly.” Maeve stood and went to the counter, leaving Aelin alone to finish her breakfast. The woman came back fifteen minutes later with a bag for her “I put a few sandwiches in it. They are all fresh. There is some fruit as well and a cake that we made this morning.” Aelin had no words. She went to take her bag to pay the woman but Maeve put a hand on her arms to stop her “It’s on me.” “I… thank you.” The she stopped for a second “Tapadh leat,” she added, remembering what Rowan had taught her earlier on, but she was embarrassed by her horrendous pronunciation. “Na can guth.” Maeve laughed “We’ll make a Gaelic speaker out of you in no time.” And placed a hand on her shoulder. “An open heart surgery might be much easier than me learning a language.” Maeve looked at her with a puzzled expression. “I am a cardio thoracic surgeon… I am…” she paused “I am just taking a break from life.” Maeve smiled again with a tender expression “You are in the right place for that, darling.” Aelin finally grabbed her backpack, the bag with the books and the bag with food provisions that Maeve gave her and stood. Then she did something quite unexpected. She hugged Maeve. And although the woman was a complete stranger she liked her already. “I’d better go.” “Go and drive safely.” Aelin smiled and left the coffee shop.

It was late afternoon when Aelin finally reached the Butt of Lewis. The northernmost point in the island and the place was wild. And breathtaking. She had Maeve’s amazing lunch at Callanish. She sat with her back against one of the massive standing stones and ate while taking in the beauty of the landscape around her. She did embrace her pagan side, a side she did not know she had, and also hugged the stones. She had followed Rowan’s directions and she loved every moment of it. And now she was out on the cliffs while a savage wind was ravaging the coast. It was so strong that she had struggled to get out of her car and she finished the remains of her lunch inside. But then she put on her windbreaker jacket and her beanie hat and got out, camera at the ready. She took a few photos and sent a nice selection to Lysandra and then sat down and kept staring at the waves crashing almost angrily against the cliffs. The air smelled of sea and she felt a deep peace settling in her bones. The quiet was broken a moment later by her phone. “Hi Lys.” She answered. “I am so jealous right now that you have no idea. I just finished a five hours surgery, I am starving and then you send me those amazing pictures.” “I feel at peace, Lys. For the first time in a very, very long time I feel at peace and content.” “I am glad to hear it, darling.” Aelin was silent for a moment. She heard some noises on the line and she realised Lysandra was in the cafeteria. “So, Aedion finally asked me out.” Lysandra confessed happily and Aelin squealed. “About time.” Aelin took a bite of her apple and closed her eyes and let herself feel the wind on her face. “Yes, he was quite charming. We are going out tonight. My shift should over at four.” “Lys I am so happy for you.” And she was. Her friend deserved that happiness. She did not have an easy life and hadn’t been very lucky in her previous relationships. She definitely needed a break and Aedion was a good guy, albeit a bit slow in realising that Lysandra was head over heels for him. “Found a gorgeous Scottish man yet?” Aelin was about to tell her about Rowan but she stopped and decided not to. Not yet. Lysandra would have started planning their wedding already if she had told him about him. “Not yet.” Another bite of her apple and then she decided to lay down on the grass “But I found a bookstore.” “Of course you did.” Lysandra was silent for a moment “Not to spoil your day but Chaol’s surgery went okay. He will need a couple of months of rest and then physio but he will be fine. Just so you know.” “Good for him.” It was all Aelin could muster. She was relieved his surgery went fine, she had no doubts about Lysandra’s skills, but the mention of his name had the power to sour the perfect day she had so far.” “You are mad at me.” “No Lys. I just… can we please not talk about my ex husband?” Her tone turned acid for a moment. He had the power, to make her mad. “Sorry.” Then Aelin sighed a felt bad about being an arse with Lysandra. She had been the only person who had been at her side. She offered her a place where to stay when she moved out of the house she shared with Chaol. She supported her all the way through and she did not deserve her anger “I am not mad at you, you know that?” “I know. And you know that I am not on his side. He was wrong and I am on your side. Team Aelin forever.” Aelin laughed “You are.” Then Aelin sat up again and stared at the sea. Then her back went rigid as she spotted something in the sea. It was a fin. After a while the top of the animal breached the surface of the water and Aelin screamed in delight. “Lys, there is a whale.” “What?” “A whale, there is a whale in the sea.” She stood and went as safely as possible to the edge of the cliff. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” She screamed, incapable to contain her excitement “It’s far too big to be a dolphin.” She now wished she had binoculars. She made a note to ask Rowan if there was a place in town where she could buy a pair. She put the phone of the ground and she forgot that she was on the phone with her friend. She just stood and stared and the magnificent sight in front of her. When she picked up the phone five minutes later she noticed the call was finished and she had a text from Lys saying she had to go back to work, that she loved her and that she will give her an update about her date with Aedion. Aelin texted her back and went back staring at the sea. Then she grabbed her backpack and began walking the trail leading to Eoropaidh beach. Once at the beach she was stunned. The path had wound through sand dunes and it felt like being in a desert. And now she was staring at the pristine and crystal blue water in front of her. She wanted to jump in the water, she would have done it if it wasn’t that it was ice cold. Hypothermia was not in her current plans. She removed her shoes, dropped her backpack on the sand and made her way to the water. A few steps and waves were gently caressing her ankles. The beach was on a lower level and she was a bit more sheltered from the wind. She closed her eyes and stood. immobile. She never had the time to just stand still and she relished the moment. She had been on the island for less than a day but she already felt as if that place had stolen her heart and soul. She thought that one day she might even enjoy the idea of settling down here and the realisation brought her a pang of joy. She left the water and went back to her belongings and sat down on the sand, retrieved her book and started reading. It was May and she was not aware of the fact that days, in the very north of Scotland were very long. She looked at her watch and gasped. It was 9pm and it was still day. She swore and collected her stuff quickly. She had finished the book she had bought from Rowan and now she had the excuse to go and visit him again and see if he had the following ones in the series. Reluctantly, she got back in the car and began the drive back to her place. A big grin stamped on her face.

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Gaelic “Madainn mhath, mo ghràidh: good morning, my dear Chan eil i Gàidhlig aice ; she does not speak Gaelic Na can guth: don't mention it

Fun fact: the first time i was at the Butt of Lewis the wind was savage just like in the story. I could not open the door of my car and I did stay in the car for lunch. Been there done that. :)

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #aedion #fanfic #angst #throne of glass series #fluff

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shelbysdevil · 2 years

Note

five times saved

Five times drabble prompts from here

Tommy noticed the tension right as that stranger kept standing longer at her desk than needed and usually he would have intervened much earlier if he wouldn’t have been on the phone, but now as he hung up and noticed that assholes hand sliding over her table to reach for her hand, he stormed through the doors that led him right back to her office. His arm wrapped around the man’s throat to pull him back, snarling a devious “get out of my office.” into his ear before he threw him against the wall. His index finger pointed at him, gesturing with his head towards the exit while his arm wiped over his mouth to get rid of his angry spit. “Don’t you dare to ever set a foot through one of my doors again.” The man rushed to the exit and Tommy’s head turnt back to Lizzie sitting with her hands resting in her lap. “Are you alright?”

Well this didn’t go as he planned as they started suddenly shooting inside of the Garrison. Luckily it was still closed so no guests could be hurt, but Lizzie was upstairs in the office and came down as she heard all the shattering glass. “Stay upstairs.” Tommy yelled at her from behind the counter and sneaked into the snug nearby to get a better view outside. There was a reloading break where the shooting stopped and immediately he used the chance and ran up the stairs after noticing his people coming up in the back outside already. They would take care of it, they had to and he had to check on Lizzie who was hiding her face behind her hands and still shaking. “Lizzie… Lizzie look at me.” With trembling hands himself he grabbed her palms to lead them away from her face, checking if her skin was unharmed before he sent her a calming smile. “It’s alright, you hear me? Everything is fine.” Her face fell down against his chest and even if he mostly was awkward with gestures like this, this time it felt naturally as his arms closed around her to keep her against his chest. They were fine. Everything would be alright.

So many times he had told her she couldn’t come. Join him on a boat like this was far below her level. But Lizzie insisted. Reassured him that she just wanted to be by his side for this and stay at Ada’s house as long as Tommy was having business in London, but a part of him wondered if she just wasn’t scared about his mental state, as if he could throw himself off the boat at anytime just to be with Grace again. Of course he wouldn’t choose drowning as his suicide method, but all his explanations didn’t seem to work and now he couldn’t say no anymore. Instead he said nothing as Lizzie appeared with a small suitcase at Charlie’s yard, his eyes just rolling while he was going through the last plans. Not once he even lifted his gaze from the paper while she stood in front of him, but as soon as she stepped backwards and forgot about the boat behind them which made her stumble, he rushed forwards and caught her in the right moment. “Lizzie… fuck I told you a boat isn’t the right thing for you.”

“I can handle a boat, Thomas.” she claimed to calm him but in the end her hands were still shaking from the short shock of nearly falling into the river. “So are we ready to leave?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” he suddenly yelled as he noticed the blood running down her hand while she was cutting some vegetables for the dinner. It seemed that Lizzie didn’t even feel the pain until now since she continued her work without a word while her index finger and wrist was already covered in red. Tommy rushed up to her, grabbing the nearby cloth to hand it to her before he led her to the sink. “We gotta clean it.” Damn he had told her that she should stay away from the kitchen. She used to be a damn whore, a secretary now if anything but she for sure wasn’t a damn cook. Neither did he want her to do such low work anymore even if it was probably just a try of her to impress him. Apparently not a very good one. “Next time you let the maids in the kitchen do their job again, Lizzie. You hear me?” He probably sounded mean, angry even but it was just cause he couldn’t bear to see blood at his home anymore. Especially not from the people he cared about even if that made him appear as someone who thought she was incapable. He knew she wasn’t, but he also wasn’t as careless as he always seemed. It was his helpless way of protecting her after all.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” he hissed through his teeth and punched his elbow right into the man’s face so Lizzie could escape from the tight grip around her neck. It was never smart to threaten Thomas Shelby but it was even more pathetic if someone was on their own and dared to touch a part of his family. Lizzie was exactly that for him, even if he didn’t marry her or told her he loved her yet, she was still working for him, for their family. She gave up being a whore and seeing other men for him and for nothing in the world he would let anyone touch her again to make her break this promise. While Lizzie tried to catch some air on her knees, Tommy was zoned out, beating the others face so many times that the blood was spreading on his fists and shirt already while the sobbing of Lizzie in the background was something he was unable to notice.

“Tommy stop.” She must’ve said at some point, but he didn’t hear it cause all he wanted was this asshole to feel the pain for touching someone that belonged to him. If anyone would ever lay hands on her again it would be fucking him. “Tell your fucking boss that if he has the balls to face me, he should meet me in person. Not sending one of his runners.” Tightly he grabbed the man’s bloody hair to pull his head back hissing right into his face “And don’t you or him ever dare again to touch someone of my family or you’ll wish yourself back to this moment, begging for me to kill you.” This was his home, his office. And no one was allowed to step into here to threaten him with taking away something he loved and needed in his life.

After spitting into the man’s face he got up, still panting and now grabbing his gun from his holster to point it at their attacker. “Get out of here. Or I’ll cut you in pieces and carry you myself.” It was enough to make him move but Tommy couldn’t help that he shot right next to him into the wall anyways, just as a warning and maybe even to make him move faster. Only then he turnt to Lizzie who looked at his bloody face in full shock. “You… didn’t have to…” but he didn’t let her speak long enough and just put his gun to the table, shushing her down with his hand first snapping around her mouth but then sliding along her cheek to grab her face and pull her close. “Are you alright?” She nodded and before she could say anything he just pulled her against his chest, his arms holding her close. “I had to. You’re Family, Lizzie. No one touches my family.”

@happyorsadmultimuse

#happyorsadmultimuse #;answers #tommy x lizzie || rise devil rise #tommy x lizzie || lay your claim

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buckyscrystalqueen · 3 years

Text

Ain’t Sayin’ She’s a Gold Digger: Part 3

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Negan x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: Sugar baby relationship, swearing

Word Count: 3,343

Part 1 / Part 2

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“OK, do you know what I think sounds much more fun than watching you work right now?” You asked from the bed as you rolled on to your stomach on the sheets toward where Jeff was working at the desk in the master bedroom.

“Playing the piano some more?” He asked without looking away from his laptop. You smirked and shook your head as you set the book you grabbed from the main room’s collection aside, pulled your knees up to your chest, and sat up.

“Well I can do that any time.” You giggled as you pulled off your night gown and tossed it toward the desk by his left elbow. He startled the slightest bit when it hit him, and he turned around to look at you with his eyebrow raised as you shot your underwear at him like a sling shot. “When else am I going to be able to skinny dip on the top of a cruise ship?” You turned on your heel with a giant smile and headed over to the veranda doors without a look back. “You coming or is work more fun to you?” He grumbled ‘Goddamn’ under his breath as you turned the corner and headed up the stairs to the small hot tub. The water felt absolutely perfect as you stepped into it, and Jeff finally joined you when you got the jets figured out and turned on. “Oh, no!” You said with a shake of your head as you moved in front of the stairs and shook your head as he set down a pair of robes from the closet. “This is a no clothing zone.”

“Yea, I’m still not fucking walking around with my dick out.” He laughed as he glanced over his shoulder before taking off his boxers and quickly getting into the hot tub.

“OK, who the fuck is gunna see you up here?” You laughed as you sat down in the seat next to him and put your legs across his lap. “The birds? I hear they are huge gossips.” You squeaked a laugh when he tickled your sides and pouted at him when he stopped.

“Gentlemen my age aren’t meant to skinny dip…”

“Huh? What does that even mean?” You asked as you threw your hair up in a messy bun on top of your head.

“You have tattoos?” He asked as he tilted his head a bit to see the tattoo that ran down your rib cage. You glanced down at it and nodded your head as you sat up so you could turn toward him a bit.

“The first song mama Beth taught me on the piano was Hallelujah. She wasn’t having none of that Twinkle Twinkle shit with her… with her own kid.” You sniffled and shrugged your shoulders. “So she taught me her favorite song. And it was the song that got me into Juilliard… well, sort of…”

“Story?” He asked gently as he slowly dragged the tips of his fingers up and down your shin.

“Well… OK, here’s the thing.” You started as you got comfortable in your spot and shifted the jet toward a small knot in your back a little more. “So if you haven’t realized by now, I am not normal. In any sort of capacity.”

“Nooo….” He sassed, teasingly. “You don’t say?”

“Shut up.” You laughed as you flicked a bit of water at him. “Its more fun to live life outside the box. So when I sent in my audition tape, I did the most stereotypical classical song you could think of. Beethoven. Bleck. But it got me through to the auditions so yay. But when I got into the practice room before the auditions and was warming up, I heard one of the ladies who worked at my… second? Maybe third group home say ‘don’t be afraid to be different’. Now, she had been talking about how I went through a phase when I was 13 of wearing bright, clashing colors every day because I thought it looked cool. But it just kinda changed my thinking that day. So I went into my audition and mashed up Hallelujah and Can’t Help Falling in Love, because it was playing on my iPod when I walked in to Juilliard, on the spot. Took me the full thirty minutes to figure out how to do it, but I did it. And it got me in.” Jeff sat silently for a moment, really taking in your story in a way you didn’t see, before he nodded his head.

“Where have you been all my life?”

“Disney gift shop.” You responded with a smile as you pointed at the water color Stitch outline on your hip. He smiled and slid his hand up to brush his thumb across the ink, before moving his hand to a more respectful place on your leg.

“My tattoos were all decisions made by a much younger man.” He laughed as he picked up your legs a bit so he could turn toward you.

“Yay stories!” He laughed again and nodded as he situated your legs on his lap again. He went one by one, showing you all five of his tattoos, and giving you an insight you had to assume not many people saw of the millionaire. You were absolutely enthralled with this man, and the more you listened, the more you wanted to know. And the more you got to know him, the more you wondered how it was possible that this man was single.

“Hey, Jeff.” You breathed as you used your and his legs to scoot closer to him. “How come… well… how come you’re a Sugar Daddy?”

“That’s…” He started as he looked out at the star splattered sky and the open ocean in front of the bow of the boat. “That’s a story for another day.”

“OK.” You whispered softly with a nod as you turned on the bench so you were right next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. “I have time to wait.” You felt him nod his head as he kissed the top of yours, before he rested his cheek on your head and looked back out at the stars.

“You are too good for me, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m not.” You giggled as you snuggled into his side. “I’m apparently just as fucked up as you are.” He huffed and nodded his head again as you both pointed to a shooting star at the same time.

“No, sweetheart. You are perfect.”

——

You had no idea where time went those next two weeks. Between the ten different ports in three different countries, and trying to learn as much as you could about the cruise experience as a whole so Jeff knew his company was exceeding his expectations of his company. Even though you knew he had work to do, you still couldn’t help yourself but be a flirtatious distraction just to see the smile that you could tell felt foreign to him.

“What, do you think you’re permanently stealing my shirt?” Jeff asked as he came out of the bathroom with a towel in his hands, barely covering himself up to tease you. You did a double take as you put your freshly cleaned clothes in one of the three harder side suitcases you bought before the trip. You glanced down at the shirt you had stolen from his part of the closet on the first or second night, and nodded your head.

“This is now mine.” You said with a smile as you dropped your jewelry bag on top of the first full suitcase and closed the top. “I’d just give up on thinking you’re getting it back… hey…” He hummed and looked up at you with his eyebrow raised as he stopped drying off his hair, and you tilted your head to the side like a lost puppy. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” Your stomach dropped to your toes as you nodded your head in total understanding.

“OK.” You whispered with a tight smile. “It’s OK, I understand. You… you don’t have to fly me back private.”

“Wait, what?” He asked as he threw the towel around his waist on his way over to where you were standing. “(Y/N), I’m not sending you home, baby girl. I’m trying to tell you that… we may need to renegotiate our arrangement.” You looked over at him as a single tear fell on each cheek. “No, don’t cry. You’re staying with me.”

“Why would you say it like that then, jerk?” You asked as he pulled you into a hug.

“Because I’m not good with the sappy shit.” He chuckled as he kissed the top of your head.

“So rude.” You said with a huffed laugh as you pushed him away. “Go away. I don’t like you right now.”

“Well I guess I’m going to have to send you home after all then.” You rolled your eyes at him and went back to packing your bags as he grabbed the pair of boxers he had left out when he packed while you showered. He hesitated a moment as he watched you set the outfit you were planning on wearing into London aside, and met your eyes when you looked up at him to continue. “My wife left me for another man.” You nodded your head and put down the pile of bras in your hand to walk around the bed to where he was standing.

“I know, honey. Dana told me.”

“Did she tell you I was to old to find another girlfriend?” He asked as he gently wrapped his hands around your upper arms and sat you down on the bed. “Because I am.”

“No.” You huffed as you used your legs to pull him a step closer to you. “No, you are not.”

“Yea, I am.” He sighed as he looked down away from you. “And I travel to much and work to hard…” You interrupted his thoughts before he could even get started by gently placing your fingertip on his chin and adding pressure until he looked at you again.

“Did you know that I’m worthless?” You asked him, honestly. “That I’m not worth anyone’s love. Because my last foster mother told me that every day before I aged out. Did you know that’s why I’m still single? Because just like you, I’ve been waiting for someone to show me that the wait we’ve both had to do was worth it.”

“You’re not worthless…”

“And you’re not old.” You countered as you ran your fingers through his wet curls. “And no, you don’t have to pay me to want to be here with you. You didn’t have to pay me to want to spend time with you at all…”

“I’m…” He started as he looked away again, but he leaned down enough to drop his forehead on yours.

“It’s OK to be scared.” You whispered as you closed your eyes and put your other hand on the back of his neck. “I’m scared that I will never be good enough for you no matter how expensive the clothes you put me in are. After all, I am an orphaned college drop out…”

“No you’re not. I’m the millionaire that is way to old to date anymore…”

“Alright, you’re wrong too, so if the point that you’re trying to make here is you want me to keep traveling with you, I can honestly say that you are never getting any work done again.” He smiled broadly and picked his head up enough to look at you and nodded.

“I think I’ll be OK with that.” Your smile grew with his as he closed the distance between the two of you and captured your lips with his. He pulled back quicker than you would have liked for your first kiss, and your smile turned into a pout as he adjusted his boxers. “What? I have work.”

“The fuck you do!” You laughed as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back over to you. “You can’t kiss me like that and just walk away.”

“Oh, I’ll do whatever I want to, sweetheart.” He teased as he pushed you down on the bed between your suitcases and clothes. “I’m in charge.”

“No, you think you’re in charge.” You countered as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. “But in reality, I’m the one in charge here.” He hummed and kissed you again with a small nod.

“OK.”

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

“Hello?”

“Dana!” You said with way to much enthusiasm for 7:30 in the morning as you wandered around the Royal Suite of the Ritz Carlton you were staying in for the next few days while Jeff took care of some business he had. “Good, you’re awake. I’m stealing Jeff from you because no one else is allowed to have him ever again.”

“(Y/N)?” She asked hesitantly as she probably looked at her phone. “Where are you? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

“Well no, not any more. Oh, but you will never guess where I am!”

“You’re interrupting my Bachelor binge so it better be good…”

“I’m in Abu Dhabi.” You finished quickly as you sat down on the chaste lounge chair in the bathroom. “But I don’t wanna talk about that, I wanna talk about Jeff.”

“Of course you do.” She laughed as you turned the chair toward the window where you wanted it to look at the beautiful pool and beach below you.

“OK, one. You said he owned a couple hotels, not that he was the CEO of the freaking Marriott.”

“Didn’t know…”

“Second, and much more importantly, how the hell did his ex wife tell him he was to old to love?”

“She what?”

“Yea, broke his poor heart. My guess is that’s the only reason that he’s been coming to see you. To just pay to have someone not break his heart like that again. D, this man is God’s honest one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met. And funny! Oh, so funny! He had me nearly pissing myself at dinner every night on the cruise. I’ve had more fun in the last two weeks than that time we went to Coney Island and got wasted. You remember that night?”

“Of course I do…”

“And that’s saying something.” You continued over her to get your point out. “And whats more, I was concerned I’d only see the money… I don’t even care! Honestly, I just want to keep spending time with him. Shit, I’d never buy another nice thing in the world if it meant I got to spend more time with him. Dana… Dana this man is perfect. Like he’s a sculpted from the Gods, sweet as homegrown pie, loving, caring, compassionate, selfless piece of sexy as fuck hunk-a man.” Your best friend laughed at your description as you scooted down on the chair a bit more with a smile. “Thank you, Dana.”

“You’re welcome, (Y/N).”

“Guess you’re on your own going to the Bachelor mansion now.” You laughed as you crossed your legs and bounced your foot in the air. “I’ll let you borrow my dresses if you want so you don’t break the bank. OH! And I have my rent. I don’t know when we’re coming back because Jeff has a meeting here today and one in… I think Australia on Thursday, and I think he’s gotta stay in Australia for a bit, but I’m not sure. He told me when he was getting ready for the gym but I was half asleep and drooling. But he put some money in my bank account so I could make sure you weren’t late on bills until I figure out work again…”

“You don’t have to work if you don’t want to.” Jeff said softly as he walked into the bathroom, drenched in sweat from his morning workout. “Hi beautiful. Hi Dana.”

“I’ll Venmo you money later Dana, and Jeff says hi. Gotta shower and go drool some more. Call you from Australia!”

“Bye Jeff. Bye (Y/N). Have fun you traitorous bitch… leaving me in the single world…” With a smile, you said bye once more and hung up the phone to jump in the shower before breakfast.

“So I’m a… hunk-a man?”

“Hell yea you are!” You laughed as you dropped your phone on the lounge chair and reached for his shirt. “You are a bad eavesdropper.”

“Yea, well you were talking pretty loud.” He laughed as he pulled the tie of your robe free and grabbed your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m always loud.” You giggled as you pushed his shorts and boxers down as he walked you backwards across the room to the shower.

“Oh, I fucking know it.” He muttered as you wrapped your hand around his length. He kissed you softly and shook his head as he pulled his hips backs and turned on the water. “Sorry, baby girl. I have a lot of phone calls to make and work to catch up on from being away for two weeks before my meeting.”

“OK.” You said with only a slightly disappointed pout.

“But I know there’s a lot to see around here…”

“Do you care if I go see?” You asked as you stepped under the water and got your hair wet. “I just…. umm… well just in case I can’t come back?”

“(Y/N)…” He said softly as he gently pinched your chin and pulled it down so you would look at him. “Absolutely. I totally understand. Don’t ever feel guilty about experiencing the world if I’m working. As long as we’re together, you can spend whatever money you want, and go and do whatever you want in the cities we’re in. I don’t ever expect you to just sit in the hotel because I have to, OK?”

“OK.” You whispered with a nod of your head. He smirked at you and gave you a chaste kiss before stepping back to wash his body.

“Just give it some time, sweetheart. It’s gunna take some time to get used to my lifestyle, but we’ll get there. Find a routine, that’s the easiest way to do it.” You nodded your head and took the shampoo suds from your hair to wash his as well so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

“You really are too good for me, Jeffrey. Seriously.”

“Nope. That would be you.”

——

Coming back home after a month being away was a bit of a shell shocking experience. Your bedroom seemed way to tiny and was still covered in empty shopping bags and ripped off tags. You didn’t have an issue with the room and your apartment itself, it’s just that you had gotten used to Jeff being around, and it seemed so empty without him.

“You can just set them on the bed.” You sighed as you gestured to the queen sized bed in the corner.

“Bitch, I’m not your maid.” Dana laughed as she dropped the suitcases she helped you carry up on the floor. “You got it.”

“Dana!” You whined as you dropped shopping bags, and the other suitcase on your bed. “I can’t even!”

“Oh, you’ll be fine!” She called out as she headed a few feet down the hall to the kitchen to grab a trash bag. “Come on, let’s get this shit cleaned up so we can find room in that closet of yours for all this fancy shit you got now.”

“I brought you presents.” You said as you started grabbing tags off the bed and shoving them in the trash bag with the shopping bags she was picking up and throwing out. “I grabbed you something from every country I was in.”

“You don’t have to do that, hun.” She laughed as she set aside the tissue paper from the bags, and the shoe boxes to reuse for Christmas and birthday gifts and storage boxes to replace the old ones in her, your, and the hall closets.

“Yea, but I couldn’t help it.” You said as you threw out the last of the tags and grabbed the other suitcases. “There’s a lot of stuff that just screamed ‘you’ so I just had to get it. And it’s for me, too so it all works out in the end.”

“Alright, fine. What is it?” She asked with a laugh as you started digging through the bags.

“OK, we have this from London.” You said as you pulled out and handed her a boxed union jack coffee mug to add to her collection of random coffee mugs. “And this necklace is from Scotland.” You handed her the next small box and turned the slightest bit to point at the box. “It’s made from a Scottish plant and all the necklaces are one of a kind. There’s a little history card in there so you can read about it. And then of course, from Ireland…” You paused for a moment with a giant smirk as you pulled out a large bottle of Irish Whisky. “Shocker. I also grabbed two Avoca throws for the living room for our beds or something from Irelands oldest weaving mill, and a cute coffee table book. I got one from Australia, too.”

“So you went a little crazy.” She laughed as she looked at the two blankets you had set down.

“And then I got this for the dining room from Abu Dhabi. It’s a Turkish lamp but it looks so cool.”

“Oh wow!” She said as you pulled out the three orb hanging lamp from it’s box.

“And I had to get some pashmina’s…”

“Oh so perfect!” She said as you laid out the half dozen scarfs in various colors and patterns on the bed for her to see.

“I figured we could share them so we both have six colors to choose from, and if we like a certain color or pattern more, I can pick another one up if I go back to Abu Dhabi or Dubai or something. And I grabbed a bag of the coffee they had at the hotel because it was AMAZING, and some spices to cook with. I had a lot of time to spend money in Abu Dhabi.” You laughed as you added the empty bag to the trash bag on the floor. “And lastly, Australia; another place I had way to much time to shop in. I grabbed some opals to add to your crystal collection, I got myself a new pair of Ugg boots, some Vegemite because I actually liked it, surprisingly. I don’t know, I’m weird. And then some chocolate, more coffee, some tea, and oh, this awesome bottle of wine we had at dinner.”

“Woman! How much damn money did you spend?!”

“And the last two things…” You said as you pulled out two different stuffed animals held the kangaroo out to her. “I asked Jeff if it was OK, and I adopted a kangaroo in your name and a koala in mine. I got to meet them both, and I have pictures so you can see them too. But they are so cute so I had to adopt them. And you’ll get sent pictures every year to see their rehabilitation and release into the wild. Oh, and I ordered a didgeridoo to put up on my wall that should be in in a few weeks because it was too big to fly so I had to ship it.”

“This new too?” She asked as she hit the Pandora bracelet on your wrist.

“That was Jeff’s idea. So I can remember all the places he’s taken me.”

“You two are so disgusting.” She laughed as she started collecting her presents from the bed to bring them to her room so she could also grab a bottle of wine and help you unpack to hear all the stories she knew you had. “I got the wine and the extra hangers.”

“I’ll start a playlist.” You said as you put your koala stuffed animal on your pillow and pulled out the rest of your souvenirs to put away. You started with your closet and pulled out all of you old work clothes, to pack away in a tote under your bed for future use just in case. Hangers got piled up on the bed and wine got poured as stories started to flow. Dana worked on hanging up your new shirts, and skirts, and made room for shorts and pants on the shelves and in your dresser, while you hung up all of your dresses in your overflow wardrobe, before cleaning out your old makeup and replacing it with the new stuff. Bathing suits went in the box under your bed with your old ones, lingerie went into your dresser, and shoes and purses went in any space you had left, since your bedroom was pretty small and already full of stuff you had collected over the years. But even though it took you two hours to reorganize and put away, you still hadn’t run out of stories and you decided to give Dana a break because of the exhausted look on her face.

“OK, I’m done.” You laughed as you stacked up your suitcases at the foot of your bed to put out in the hall closet eventually.

“Sorry, sweetie. I just had a new client hit one of my girls last night so I was dealing with the cops half the night and this wine isn’t helping.”

“D, oh my God, why didn’t you interrupt me? Girl, go sit down! I could have unpacked by myself! I’ll order a pie for dinner and find something on Netflix to zone out to.”

“God, you have no fucking idea how good that sounds right now.” She laughed as she headed out of the room. With a nod, you grabbed your cell from the Hermès bag you had coveted of the woman in the Subway, and followed your roommate out to the living room to just veg and hang out until you both passed out on the couch in positions that was sure to make your back hurt the next day.

——

Pounding on your door woke you up way to early, and being the closer one, you threw off your slightly tangled blanket and trudged to the door from the couch. You looked up at your handsome visitor through sleep fogged eyes, and shook your head.

“No.”

“Sweetheart where have you been?” Jeff asked as he pulled you into a hug. “We were supposed to meet at the gym 45 minutes ago and your phone is going straight to voicemail...”

“I’m trying to fucking sleep!” Dana screamed from the living room as she got off the couch and headed into her room.

“Sleep time, baby.” You sighed as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into your apartment tiredly. “Sleep.”

“I can’t, I have shit to do today.”

“No, sleep time.” You repeated as you locked the door behind him and dragged him a few feet down the hallway to your bedroom. Your clothes from the night before hit the floor and you were too tired to even look back at him as you pulled back the blankets and climbed into bed against the wall in just your cotton thong. “Sleep with me.”

“Fine.” He muttered as he stripped down to his boxers and got into bed in front of you. “But only for an hour...”

“Shhh!” You hissed as you snuggled into his chest and almost instantly fell back asleep. One hour turned into almost five, which is when Jeff got tired of watching you sleep and decided it was time to wake you up. He very gently kissed your forehead and slowly rubbed your back, before his lips moved to your temple and down to your cheek.

“Supposed to be sleeping.” You grumbled when he kissed your nose.

“It’s almost eleven, baby. And I’m getting hungry.”

“There’s leftover sushi in the fridge.” You muttered as you pulled the blankets up over your head. “And some of a teriyaki bowl. Fried rice… but the spring roll is Dana’s.”

“OK, but I want to see your beautiful face with me…” You started when Dana threw your bedroom door open, and you sat up as she held her phone out.

“Chelsea got tickets to Burning Man.”

“She what?!” You asked as you scrambled over Jeff to get to the phone.

“I grabbed six.” One of your closest friends said on speaker as you took the phone from your roommate and grabbed Jeff’s gym shirt off the floor.

“That’s mine.” He said, which made you simply swipe your hand in his direction.

“How did you get six tickets?”

“Sold a townhouse on the Upper East so I jumped when I got that check this morning.”

“So what, six tickets, one vehicle pass?” Dana asked as she leaned on your door frame and bent down to scratch her leg.

“Yea.”

“So what, the three of us and who?”

“I figured asking Kara and Mac…”

“They broke up last week.” Dana said as she looked up at you with a shrug. “Mac cheated.”

“She did not!” You gasped over Chelsea in shock. Dana nodded her head and took a step back so Jeff could scoot past to go to the bathroom.

“OK, so just Kara.” Chelsea said as you gestured down the hall to the living room. “And I was thinking Mickey.”

“OK, I love Mickey, but I would kill him after three days.” Dana laughed.

“What about Steph?”

“I would kill her after two days.”

“OK well first, let’s ask this. Do we wanna make it a girls trip? Because (Y/N) has a new beau.”

“Ooo! Is this the cruise guy? I heard he’s stupid cute.”

“He is.” You laughed as you set the phone down on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to grab a pen and paper.

“I mean you said he’s older though? Like how old are we talking?”

“I’m 45.” Jeff called out as he headed into the kitchen to start making coffee. “Not that old. Coffee?”

“Oh! Didn’t realize he was there, sorry.” You called out that she was fine as you grabbed coffee mugs, and the container of coffee grounds for Jeff before heading back to discuss your plans.

“Keep a ticket on hold for right now for him.” You said as you sat down on the couch beside Dana and tucked your knees up to your chest. “I’ll get back to you in a couple days on that. And the last ticket has to go to Kenzie. She’s been trying to get us all to go with her for years and she’d be ideal on the prep front on what we actually need to bring.”

“Oh, yea I like Kenzie.” Chelsea said, excitedly. “I approve.”

“OK, so we have a line up. The three of us, Kenzie, Kara, and possibly Jeff. And if not Jeff, we can see if Matt wants to go.”

“Oh, he’s fabulous.” Dana agreed. “Alright, Chelsea, get your laptop. Let’s get a Zoom call going so we can start working out details. I’ll send you the room number in a minute.” She said OK and hung up the phone just as Jeff was coming out with three cups of coffee.

“So what is Burning Man?”

“It is a life changing experience.” Dana stated as she started a new group text chat for the Burning Man group. “It’s a week long event…”

“Not to be confused with a festival.” You interrupted as you started the list of what you would need to make this trip happen.

“Not a festival, but it is at the same time. It’s put on by artists, and musicians, and free spirits dedicated to self-expression and anti-consumerism.”

“It’s supposed to be a life changing experience.” You chimed in as you looked up from your notes. “We’ve been talking about going for the past five years since Kenzie went the first time.” Jeff nodded his head as your other three closet friend’s voices floated out of the speakers, but his next statement made everyone fall into stunned silence.

“I’ll tag along if you don’t mind it. Sounds like an interesting experience even for someone at my age. I’ll cover the costs, too so you all don’t have to worry about that and just enjoy the experience.”

“Wait, what?” Chelsea asked as Dana turned her laptop so the girls could see the three people in your living room.

“Who is that?”

“Is that the guy?”

“That’s the guy.”

“Guys, he’s right here.” You laughed as you waved your paper at the group. “Do we wanna plan this shit or what?”

“OK! OK! We’re planning!” Kenzie laughed as she got up to grab something on her end. “Now, I usually stay in a tent, but it’s usually just me and Stacy…”

“Oh, Stacy! We forgot Stacy!” Dana whined.

“I’ll cover her ticket.” Jeff said with a small nod as he sat back in his chair with his coffee. “And all of yours too.”

“What?” “No way!” “You don’t have to do that.” “Yo, I’m broke! Shut up!”

“You’re gunna give them all heart attacks.” You laughed.

“I’m not sleeping in a tent, either.” He said more to you with a shake of his head. “You want to be the one to look into an RV or should I have my assistant do it?”

“Oh, I know there’s a place out there we can rent from…” Kenzie tried but you shook your head as you added the RV to your list.

“No, he means he’s gunna buy one.” You said with a glance up at your friends. “Can we stop focusing on Jeff and focus on Burning Man, please?”

“Yes, Burning Man.” Dana said for you as she clapped her hands. “So, Kenzie. What do we need to know?”

“Who’s…”

“I’ve got the list started already.” You said over Chelsea as you waved the paper around.

“OK, Burning man is a fucking beast.” Kenzie said as she sat down on her couch with a meticulously organized fire red binder in typical Kenzie fashion. “It is not a foot race, it is a fucking marathon. You all need to be prepared. So let’s get started with my prep list…”

Part 4

#negan x reader #Ain't sayin' she's a gold digger #Negan thirst squad #Negan's thirst squad

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 25: Timing

‘my soul chose yours and a soul doesn't just forget that’ - b. m.

Lourdes showed up right then. We stepped away from each other, startled, struggling to look like we weren’t caught doing something wrong.

Lourdes didn’t seem to notice.

“There you are!”‌‌ She smiled. “Finally made it out?”

I‌ looked down, shyly.‌ “Yes. I‌ was just about to go back in.”

“What? Why? Let’s get out of here before someone comes to find you to do more work.”

I‌ smiled.‌ “Lou, I‌ have to work.”

She rolled her eyes, and looked at Harry. “This used to be our favorite holiday. We don’t live here, but the Palace is full of little secret places. We should take Harry on a tour.”

“I’d love that.” He said. “Palaces are fun when I don’t have to live in them.”

Lourdes laughed.‌ “Where should we start?”

“Again, I–I have to work.”

Lourdes gave me an exasperated look. “Stop, the day is basically over.”

“You know there’s a black tie dinner tonight, right?”

She sighed. “Tonight! Hours away! Besides, if they really need you, they’ll come find you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Harry, some help?”‌ She grinned at him. “You want Maggie to come, right?”

He looked at me, and sighed, longingly. “Always.”

There was no going back after that.

I ‌grabbed my shoes and ran towards the opposite end of the hallway, away from the reception hall.

“Fine, but let’s run before someone catches us.”

We took the staff’s passageways to avoid being seen while we made our way. Unlike the rest of the Palace, they were mostly all old cement and industrial lights, with wooden or backsplash floors that needed fixing. Places that weren’t seen by the people who ‘mattered’, only used by servants to stay out of the family’s way or make their way faster through the palace.

The spiral, stone steps were steep upwards to the Clock tower. We climbed it slowly, out of breath from the long walk. The Clock tower wasn’t meant as a place to be visited; as we explained to Harry, though the Clock was now a hugely popular touristic attraction, it was created to be functional, and the tower where it was situated merely a place for maintenance.

Therefore, it was simple. A round room of barely even wooden floorboards and high top ceilings. Clean, but empty. Across from the door we walked through was the clock; it’s lowest end was below the floor we were on, and it’s highest point out of reach even to Harry in all his height.

“I don’t know why but I pictured it a lot smaller.”‌ Harry noted, leaning on the railing separating the room from the clock itself.

Standing by his side, I‌ pointed down to the river below.

“Perfect view.”‌

He smiled.‌‌ “Can they see us?” He asked, reasonably, noticing the public gathering to watch the boat parade and the separate stand for the press.

“Nope.”‌ I‌ told him. “It’s mirrored glass outside.”

“Nice.”‌ He knocked his shoulder on mine, lightly, making inexplicably blush.

“Shall we?”‌, Lourdes asked, kicking off her flats.

“Lourdes, we have a perfectly good view from here.”

She ignored me, instead sneaking below the railing to edge herself forward, holding one of the metal bars securing the clock in place to pull herself up. She quickly climbed the railing and stepped forward.

“What–woah–”‌ Harry stepped back as my sister climbed up onto the clock.

The old clock had several metal structures securing it in place, as well as all the other important and ornamental parts. The pointers, for example, were held together by two metal bars shaped like an X, which had a smaller circle inside connected to the engines. The X and the circle, my siblings and I had found as children, formed an almost perfect climbing hole.

“Come on!”‌‌ Lourdes called, impatient.‌ “What are you guys waiting for?”

“Is that… allowed?”‌ Harry asked, almost whispery.

I‌ gave him a cheeky grin. “Are you really afraid of breaking the rules? You, of all people?”

“Fair. But, you know, I’m a guest here.‌‌ I‌ already kidnapped their princesses, I‌ don’t want to give your family more reason to hate me.”

“Are you chickening out?!”‌, Lourdes called, already climbing into the top part of the circle.

“We’re fine here.”‌ I‌ told her, who then made chicken sounds at us.

“I‌ expected that from Harry, British and all, but you’re Savoyen, Maggie. You’re made of stronger stuff!”

“Lou–”

“Okay, that’s it.” Harry said, peeling off his coat and suit jacket, starting to fold his long sleeves past his elbows.

“I–”‌‌‌ I‌ stuttered, remembering to look away from his arms, “You–you don’t have to, you’ll get dirty from the dust.”

Lourdes made chicken noises again.

Harry sighed.‌ “You understand.”

Before I could say no, he threw one over the railing, where he sat and pulled himself up, standing on top of it, starting to look around at the metal bars to try and figure out where he should go next.

“Lourdes, if he falls, I’ll tell Papa it’s your fault.”

She shrugged. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Harry laughed, loosened his tie, and climbed up.

“Are you coming?”‌ He asked, looking at me, a joyful smile in his lips.

“She can’t…”‌ Lourdes mocked, in a sing-song voice, “She’ll be queen one day!‌ What will the church say?!”

“I am wearing a dress,‌ Lourdes-Abigail!” I‌ complained, as Harry laughed, amused.

“You do every year, yet I‌ can’t help but notice this is the only year you seem to be struggling with that.”

I ‌sighed, knowing I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t about my title, but about not wanting Harry to see me losing all composure in order to climb into a clock like a child.

But… Harry was there, too. And it was very fun. So I‌ undid my belt and removed my overcoat, placing it along Harry’s in the railing, to the side, leaving my shoes near it, too. Now wearing my short-sleeved, simple black dress, I sat on the railings facing the door and turned to the clock, one leg at a time, trying to maintain some sort of etiquette.

The hard part came with getting to my feet, for which I‌ had to raise one leg first. If I did it on the other side, I wouldn’t have the metal bars to pull myself up; if I‌ did it on this side, I would essentially showcase my underwear. This wasn’t a problem I‌ had had when it was just my siblings with me.

Harry was watching me, uncertain, trying to figure out a way to help.

I‌ sighed. “Would you look away, please?”

“What?”

I sighed, blushing. “I am wearing a dress.”‌

“Oh.”‌ It was now his turn to blush slightly, turning to face the river. “‌Of course.”

I‌ pulled myself up swiftly, only almost slipping in the railings because of my stockings.‌ Then, I‌ took the small step into the bottom part of the metal circle, where, inexplicably, Harry still was. Because it was a circle, and I was wearing stockings, though I had tried to step to the side of him, as to keep my distance, I slid slightly and almost fell, but Harry was quick to wrap his arms around me.

“Oops, there you go.”‌ He said, as we chuckled, as if his arms around me didn’t send shivers through my whole body.

“You need to keep climbing, we can’t both stay here.”‌ I‌ said, enjoying the proximity more than I should.

“Okay, but I don’t know how!” He explained, exasperated.

“There, that side. Use the bar to pull yourself up and hoister your body into the next arm of the X.”‌ I explained as he loosed his hold on me to turn around and do as I said, but as he was wearing socks, he, too, slid back into place. Now it was my arms around his muscled back.

We laughed.

“I’ll just stay here.” He said.

“At what age should I‌ expect to become so completely physically useless?”‌ Lourdes complained from above us.

“Good God, she’s brutal.” Harry whispered, with an amused laugh.

“It’s the teenage hormones.” I‌ explained, smiling. “She’ll grow out of it.”

“I‌ heard that.”‌‌ Lourdes said. “And just because you said it, I’ll make it a point to become even worse as I‌ grow up.”

“Why don’t you help?”‌ I asked her, laughing; “We can’t all be junior athletes.”

Sighing, she leaned down and offered Harry a hand. “Come on, I’ll pull you up, but you have to use your legs.”‌‌ She said. “And it’s ex-athlete.”

Harry held her hand and took an impulse to hoister himself up to the next section of the X.

After he had settled in place, he heaved a long sigh, and asked: “Why ex?”

“I haven’t skated since last year.”‌ She explained.

“You can always go back.”

“It’s not how it works… You don’t recover that much time away… besides, my trainer’s contract is about to run out. When it does, he’ll move on and train someone else.”

After I‌ had climbed up into the opposite section to Harry, I‌ looked at him. We shared a look of worry over this, but, much like me, he also seemed lost as to what to do.

“Oh, it’s starting!”‌ Lourdes exclaimed.

We followed her finger to see a large vessel of the Navy making its way down across the river. On top of it, soldiers lined up perfectly, saluting.

Ship after ship, bigger, smaller, weirdly shaped, with cannons, old and new, made their way through the river, some shooting empty cannon balls up to the sky to the cheering crowds. Some holding bands in perfect formation playing our national anthem.

“So,” I started, after we’d been in silence for a while, “how much better is our Clock to your London Eye?”

Harry grinned. “I will not dignify that question.”

“Because you know it’s so much better?” Lourdes asked.

“Because the answer should be obvious.” He replied, amused.

“Because you know it’s so much better.” She affirmed, confident.

“No!” He protested, making us laugh.

Another ship went by, this one releasing a show of fireworks. We stayed silent, listening to the thunderous sound.

“Louis found this place.” Lourdes said. “Do you remember, Maggie?”

I smiled at the river. “Oui… A lifetime ago.”

After the last ship had passed by to the sound of excited applause by the cheering crowds, we all released tired sighs almost at the same time, and remained silent for a minute just appreciating the movement of the people below.

“They’ll be looking for us.” Harry said, eventually.

“Yeah.” I agreed.

No one moved.

“You should come back.” Lourdes said, to Harry. “Some time when there’s no big event, just to visit. That way we have more time to show you around. And you should come to Callois, or Haydell! Those are the best Palaces.”

He was smiling at her. “Well, I’d be happy to come back. It sounds fun. It… it might be hard to justify it without a proper reason.”

“Can’t the reason be you were invited?”

He looked pensive. “I… I guess it can?”

“Well, then you’re invited. Isn’t he, Maggie?”

They looked at me. I felt a knot of… not anxiety, something lighter in my stomach.

I smiled at Harry. “I… We’d love to have you.”

He smiled, softly, at that.

Lourdes looked back down at the river, listing all the things in Callois and Haydell she wanted to show Harry, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. They were full of yearning and heavy with the weight of all that wasn’t being said – it was hard to look away. It made me want to cry.

“Hello?!”

I shook my head, looking at my sister. “What?”

She sighed, annoyed. “I asked… how much money do you have on you right now, Harry?”

He seemed confused, as I’m sure I did. “Uh. I don’t know?”

“Will you give me all of it if I can hop off from up here without using my hands or arms at all?”

“Lourdes-Abigail…” I started.

“Mind your business, Maggie.” She interrupted. “You’re not allowed an opinion as you have insider knowledge on this matter.”

I sighed. Harry just seemed even more confused.

“No hands or arms?” He asked.

“Surely, you’re not considering this.”

“How much money?” She asked again.

Grinning now, he picked his wallet from his back pocket and went through it.

“Uhm… sixty pounds.”

“Not euros? Ugh, fine. It’ll do. Do we have a deal?”

“Well, I’m very intrigued, so yes.”

Perched up on the upper arch of the metal circle, Lourdes turned to the side and started to slide down, arms crossed in her chest. When she reached the first arm of the X, she used the metal connection to the wall to slide around it, and sit again on the circle on the other side. From there, she pressed her feet against the wall using it to keep her steady against the metal of the circle as she slid down, the circle now to her back, quickly reaching the lower leg of the X. From there, she was able to take a bit step onto the railing and jump down to the ground, turning around to us and throwing her arms in the air, to then slowly curtsey in victory.

Harry and I chuckled, amused. Harry slow clapped. He leaned down and handed her the money.

“Well earned.”

“Thank you.” She took another curtsey, smug.

“What was that, the ballet, gymnastics, or the skating training?”

She shrugged, counting the money. “All of it combined, I guess.”

“Impressive.” Harry said, giving me a quick look before going on. “Why are you quitting, again? That much talent shouldn’t go to waste.”

She sighed. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t like it as much anymore.”

“You haven’t skated since last year, you said so yourself.” I reminded her. “Maybe you just don’t remember how much you like it.”

“Whatever, it’s done.” She shrugged. “Ivan’s contract is about to expire anyway.”

“Hey, Mary.” Harry called. For a moment, my heart skipped a beat to him using the old ‘nickname’.

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you say you always wanted to get proper skating lessons?”

I stared at him, confused.

“I… did?” I said, trying to pass the question as an answer. Lourdes was looking at me, brows raised.

“You did?” She asked. “You hate ice skating.”

“No, I don’t.” I dismissed. “I just… I don’t love it, because I’m not great at it. But, maybe if I had lessons…”

Lourdes scoffed, mocking, but looked away to put her money in her pocket.

I exchanged a quick look with Harry, who shrugged, nodding excitedly. It wasn’t a… bad plan. It was just an unusual one. But, maybe it was time for desperate measures.

We heard steps on the stairs, and all looked at the door, expectantly, as if being caught mid-mischief which, in a way, we had been.

From it emerged Auguste, breathless.

“Ma’am.” He sighed. “The–the King–he… he needs you to–”, he paused, wheezing. “Guests are leaving.”

“Oh, right.” I nodded. “We have to say goodbye?”

He nodded. “And Princess Maryanne was looking for you, ma’am.” He added to Lourdes.

“Oh, thanks.” She said, before looking at us. “I’ll go see her. See you downstairs?”

“Sure.” She left. I looked at Auguste. “Okay, I’ll be right down, Auguste. Merci.”

He nodded again, breathless, looking at Harry.

“I’ll wait for you, ma’am.”

“No need.” I assured him. “I’ll meet you back at the reception hall.”

He nodded one more time, and bowed, before leaving.

We waited until the sound of his footsteps on the stairs had faded. Then I tentatively looked at Harry, already saddened at having to leave. He was looking around at the room.

“This is a cool place.” He said.

“It is, I like it, too.”

We continued to just hang from the clock, seemingly trying to forget about the obligations knocking at our doors.

“We should–” I started, and he cleared his throat, nodding.

Carefully, we made our way down from the clock. Harry first, then me. He offered his hand to help me down from the railing, which I took. It didn’t stop me from slipping in my stockings again, though, and he had to step quickly closer to catch me in his arms just in time.

The problem was, now his arms were tight around me, our bodies glued together, my feet barely touching the floor. His warmth and mine were one, his breath and mine were one, and nothing else in the world existed.

“I miss you.” He said, suddenly. So suddenly I looked at him for a long time, speechless, convincing myself I hadn’t imagined it. But he was looking beyond me, awkwardly.

I didn’t know how to respond, at least not while his arms were keeping my standing, at least not while my insides felt like they were burning.

“I wanted to text you.” I confessed, softly. “But I guess I felt… guilty.”

I watched his eyes slowly reach mine again, hovering every inch of my face on their way.

“I guess I still do.” I said.

He nodded, slowly. “So you… you regret it? The… kiss?”

“No.” I shook my head, quickly. “Not one bit.”

We smiled, and I felt as thought my skin was burning.

“You?” I asked.

Slowly, he touched his forehead to mine. “Impossible.”

An infinity later, or maybe half a second, just as the distance between us was growing smaller, the door opened again.

We were so startled I must have jumped three steps back. I don’t know how much she saw, but something told me there was not a chance that my mother wouldn’t be absolutely livid, regardless.

“Marie-Margueritte.” She called, even-toned, calm to a chilling degree. “You have neglected your work long enough today.”

“I was just going downstairs.” I explained, avoiding her eyes, rushing towards my overcoat and shoes.

“You shouldn’t have left at all.” She added. “You have a duty.”

“It’s my fault, ma’am.” Harry told her. “I told the princesses how beautiful the Palace was and they wanted to show me more of it. They are wonderful hostesses.”

I sighed, knowing that wouldn’t help. I put on my coat quickly, and my shoes, and walked towards my mother, who was still seething looking at Harry, now putting on his blazer.

I could almost see it behind her eyes: the enraging need to tell Harry off for the way he spoke to her in Kensington Palace, and probably also for keeping me away from the reception.

I held her hand. “Shall we go, Maman?”

She sighed. Wordlessly, she turned around and pulled me with her by the hand.

“Keep up, Your Royal Highness, you wouldn’t want to get lost.” She said, without looking back.

It was a long way back downstairs in total and utter silence. My mother didn’t let go of my hand until we were inside the reception hall, and she followed me until I was standing with my father in place to say our goodbye to our guests.

I wanted to find a moment to talk to Harry again, before he had to leave. But there was no moment.

Next thing I knew, he was standing in front of us, saying his formal goodbyes, gently kissing my knuckles, and walking away.

— ---- —

It was hard to fall asleep that night, thinking about him, about his arms around me, about what might have happened if my mother hadn’t arrived until it was already sunny out.

A few hours later, I stumbled down for breakfast only half-awake, glad that I had no work, hoping to get back into bed as fast as possible.

Unfortunately, while my mother and sister discussed her upcoming school commitments, I remembered the plan Harry and I had silently hatched the day before.

“Maman,” I started, “What is going on with Lourdes’ trainer? Is he still available?”

My parents exchanged a look. “Just for a few more weeks, unless your sister changes her mind.”

“I’m not.” Lourdes said.

My father folded his newspaper, and looked at her.

“You know, Mr. Federova has phoned frequently to inquire about you, Lourdes.” He said. “He thinks it would be a tremendous waste to let go of your years of hard work.”

“I said I don’t want to skate.” She repeated, more forcefully.

“Well, anyway.” I interrupted, cheery. “I was thinking, since he’s paid for the season and not working, that I might take some lessons.”

“Lessons?” My mother asked, confused.

“Ice skating lessons.”

Lourdes laughed. My father looked at me, slightly concerned. My mother merely nodded and said, “alright, I’ll call him and let him know to expect you.”

“Are we–?” my father started, clearing his throat, “are we sure that’s a good idea? Margueritte is… well–”

“Well?” I asked.

“A disaster.” Lourdes volunteered.

“Excuse me?”

“I just mean, you have many talents, dear,” my father intervened, “but coordination is, well, not one of the bigger ones.”

“Excus– I’m very! I–” I struggled, livid. “I’m very… sportsy!”

“Wow.” Lourdes sighed, sarcastic.

“Shut up. I’m good with– feet– sports! I can play! I play p–polo and stuff! Tennis!”

She shook her head. “Not to mention your talent for words.”

“Shut up! Mom?!”

Mom was grinning ever so slightly as she drank her tea.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” My father replied.

“I’ll be fine! You’ll see, I bet I’ll be great at it!”

“Maggie, you can’t be serious…”

I looked at my sister, confidently. “Why do you care? You’re not using him.”

“He’s a former Olympian! He can’t teach you the basics, it’s insulting!”

“I can ice skate, it won’t be the basics!”

“Please.”

“You wanna bet?”

She didn’t. But I kept up the charade, amping up my enthusism more than I actually felt it. Eventually, a few days later, when it was time to leave for my first lesson, Lourdes announced she was coming too.

“Ivan is a highly awarded, accomplished ice skating champion. If he’ll be subjected to teaching you how to stand on your own legs just because he’s been paid through the season, at least I should apologize in person.”

“…I can stand on my own legs.” I said, rolling my eyes.

Ivan Federova looked… scary. He wasn’t tall, or big in any way, it was like he had somehow maintained the same body he’d had when he won Olympic gold three times back to back in his late teenage years. Now he was in his fifties and didn’t seem to be capable of smiling… or personal contact. He’d made little effort to learn either French or English, but it wasn’t usually a problem, as he didn’t talk much.

Lourdes was mostly quiet on the way to the rink. Over the years, my family had signed rental deals with three ice rinks around Savoy. One was close to Lourdes’ school, where she practiced every day after classes under the supervision of her security and trainer. The other was closer to Haydell Castle. As Corsilla was a small town, the nearest rink was a half an hour drive away, in Grauville. The last one, where we were going today, was close to Callois Palace, where my parents resided full time, for practice during weekends or school holidays. Ivan’s contract stipulated he practiced with Lourdes in whatever rink was easier for her depending on the time of the year.

Upon running into Ivan in the empty rink, Lourdes launched into an apology and explanation of her decision to quit, very professional in all of her thirteen years-old. Ivan cut her off after around five minutes of this, looking at me instead and saying, in a gruff, heavily Russian-accented voice, “I train you now?”

“Yes.” I said, stepping forward, schooling my features into enthusiasm instead of fear, “I’m very much looking forward to it. I may not have much experience, but what I lack in-”

“Stretch.”

“What?”

“Stretch!” he gestures to my whole body.

“Go stretch.” Lourdes explained, looking appalled that I had to ask. “Your legs specially.”

I ran to the sidelines of the ice, and, unsure of where to begin, started doing the leg stretches I usually did at the gym.

Ivan had me put on my old, barely ever used pair of skates, said something in a mixture of Russian and French, of which I understood only a part about having to break them in, and then told me to do laps around the rink so he could see ‘my form’, which was, of course, a disgrace. He sighed heavily after I finished a slow, wombly lap, and stepped into the ice himself to teach me how to skate more confidently.

Lourdes, who out of principle hadn’t brought her skates, watched from the bleachers. When she first attempted to yell out advice, Ivan shouted, “No help from public, merci. This is private”, and she sunk in her seat for the following half an hour.

Around that time was when I realized I would soon be sporting fresh dark purple bruises all over my body. Ivan discovered that what he had meant to teach me would take longer than he had intended. First it was skating without slouching, then it was breaking, then he had to push me very hard to make turns without wanting to scream.

When Ivan declared the lesson over, I sighed in relief and sat on the floor, exhausted. He quickly reminded me to go home and be back the following day.

“Tomorrow?!” I asked, appalled.

Lourdes kept coming with me for my ‘lessons’ even though she looked as though she was being forced to go; the first time she brought her skates and got into the ice with me, Ivan yelled at her that this was a private lesson. She sat in the bleacher fuming, arms crossed on her chest.

A week later, I was not able to move, but my parents kept saying they were proud I wasn’t giving up. Lourdes came back the following lesson and barged into the rink on her skates; before Ivan said anything, she told him “our family is paying for an empty rink, might as well have both of us use it, get our money’s worth”, then she just skated to the other side of the ice and pretended she wasn’t watching us. It was kind of amusing.

The real deal started when Ivan tried to teach me how to spin. The first one was reasonably easy, standing in place, just using my hands and knees to create momentum and letting the ice do the rest. The danger came with a sit spin. It looked so seamless when he or Lourdes did it, but it involved a lot more steps than I would have imagined. I had to skate confidently in one leg, raise the other backwards and bring it forward as I used my arms to spin in place. Ivan’s accent got worse when he was frustrated, and I hated being so clearly bad at something, especially in front of my obviously talented little sister, so there were a lot of high tempers in the ice.

I wanted to text Harry every day, tell him every little bit of all of this, but the more I stared into his number, the more terrified I felt. I knew if I started there would be no going back. If I sent one message, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And if there was anything V. E. Day had proved, it was that there was just too much between us.

At one point, when Ivan was getting louder and I was trying to convince myself not to leave, Lourdes skated towards us - breaching the invisible line he had drawn between us - and stopped between me and him. “Maggie,” she started, and when her trainer tried to yell she just waved an impatient hand at him, focusing on me, “you’re too afraid to fall when you lunge.”

I sighed. “Yeah, my bad, I should just ignore the prospect of feeling pain.”

She brushed off my sarcasm with remarkable ease, “Get in position.” I did as she said, and she approached, slapping my buttcheek.

“Hey!”

“See this? You might not have a lot of it, but it’s something! It’s fat, which means your blow will be cushioned. And this arm right here will stop the fall as soon as it comes–”

“Is there a way where I avoid falling?”

“No.” She and Ivan replied, together.

“If you fear fall, you can’t skate.” He told me.

“Go again.” Lourdes said, skating backwards.

I sighed and tried again, giving it an honest effort, but falling on my ass regardless.

“You’re too slow when you spin, so you don’t have enough momentum to stay on your feet.”

“God, if it’s so easy why don’t you do it?!”, I stupidly said, exasperated.

She nailed it, of course. Took a graceful, long stride forward, then turned backwards as if it was nothing, then flipped her weight from her right leg to the left in a step forward, using the right leg to get momentum into a spin. She spun wildly on herself atop her left skate as she crouched down on her left knee, right leg stretched forward with her arms above it reaching for her foot. Then, just as she had started to slow down she stood up and her right leg stretched backwards; she grabbed hold of the blade in the skate and pulled it upwards behind her back, above her head, the move giving her more momentum so the spin caught speed again. It felt as if several minutes passed, but I couldn’t take my eyes from her. Eventually, she let go of her leg, which swiftly crossed in front of the left. She leapt into her right foot now, allowing her left leg to bend backwards slightly, starting to spin again for another several laps with her hands up above her head, torso laid backways on her waist. When she started to slow, she straightened up, opened her arms, and stepped out of her spin gracefully backwards, breaking perfectly in front of us.

She had a victorious, emotional smile on her lips, and a glint to her eyes I had never seen before.

We were silent for a couple of seconds as she breathed heavily; Then, Ivan said, “Show her your triple lutz.”

She looked at him, thoughtfully, for a long time. I thought she was going to ask why, and was ready to answer ‘inspiration!’, but she didn’t. She drew in a long breath, and stepped forward.

I skated to Ivan slowly while she took up speed and turned to skate backwards, one leg behind her. She leaned forward slightly and next thing I knew she was twisting in the air. She landed smiling, on her left leg, right one gracefully up behind her back. She skated to us slowly, panting slightly.

“Sloppy.” Ivan told her. I gave him a shocked look he ignored.

“Well, I haven’t skated in months, ever since–”

“Excuses don’t make podium.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

She skated away again and repeated the jump. I applauded, mumbling to Ivan without moving my lips, “Don’t antagonize her.”

“I teach.” He replied, unaffected.

She broke in front of us forcefully, still smiling. Still breathless, but looking more alive than I’d ever seen her.

“That was awesome!” I said.

“You under rotate. You lose points.”

She looked at the ice beneath her feet, sighing, hands to her waist. Silently, she skated off again.

I looked at Ivan. “Seriously, what’s the plan?”

“Remind her what she loves.”

“…being insulted by you?”

He grinned, still watching her.

Her third jump was… well, to me it was exactly the same as the other two. And as Ivan’s expression didn’t change, I had to wait until she skated back to us.

“Flat edge. Lose points.” Ivan said before she even reached us.

Instead of breaking, she took speed again and took off for another try. Except this time she did her first jump, landed, and immediately jumped up again in another twist in the air.

“Triple lutz, triple toe.” Ivan nodded. When she approached us again, she was out of air; she doubled down on herself, hands to her knees, panting. “Luchshe.” When I seemed confused, he corrected, in French. “Mieux.” Better.

“It was amazing!” I exclaimed.

“Axel.” Ivan told Lourdes.

She straightened up, looked at him, no longer smiling. She fixed her ponytail and skated off again.

This time when she skated backwards on her right foot, she didn’t lean forward, and instead looked backwards at the last minute to make a fast switch to her left skate to jump forward quickly, arms crossed to her chest. Her hair spun wildly in the air with her, but when she landed she fell on her side.

I startled, gasping, and Ivan held my arm to keep me from going to her.

“No training.” He yelled out. “That happens.”

She got to her feet, shook off the ice in her pants, and tried again, taking up speed, skating past us without giving us even a glance. She didn’t fall this time. I looked at Ivan.

“Bad entry. Lose points.”

Lourdes had clearly heard him, she didn’t even bother coming to us, instead just took up speed and tried again. She fell.

“You lean your back to your side.” Ivan shouted after her. “Your back needs to be over your feet.”

She tried again. She stumbled on her feet in the landing, but didn’t fall. I thought it was a victory.

“Elbows in.” Ivan shouted. “The, uh– poids stay center! The… weigh.” He translated. “The weight stays center, not back.”

She tried again.

Ivan crossed his arms on his chest. “Good.” He said, nodding. “Good.”

I smiled, looking at her, but she didn’t skate to us. “He said it was good!” I shouted.

But she kept going. She jumped again. And then again. She fell back. She jumped again. Ivan sighed. “Enough now.”

She jumped. She fell. She was panting as she skated to get more speed to go again. Ivan shook his head. “No good.” “What?!” I asked.

“That’s punishment. Not training.”

“Lourdes!” I yelled. “That’s enough!”

She jumped again. Ivan sighed.

She did it twice more before I stepped into her path when she was skating past us to get more speed. She almost lost her balance, but managed to skate past me. I followed. She jumped again, and fell. I reached her after she’d gotten up, but was still slow enough I could wrap my arms around her to stop her in place.

“Maggie!” She shouted. “Stop!”

“It’s enough!” I shouted back, feeling a confusing knot on my throat. “That’s good, it’s beautiful. Stop.”

I felt her gloved hands on my arms, trying to pull them off her.

“This is none of your business, just–”

“You’re hurting yourself! You’re out of breath! Stop it!”

“No!”

She doubled down, trying to get out of my reach. We fell to the ground, instead, but I kept my arms firmly in place.

“This is not about you!” She shouted, reaching back to try and push me away.

“I know!” I shouted back, feeling my eyes water. “I know!”

We struggled. I wondered where Ivan was that he hadn’t come to help me yet. We must have looked ridiculous, and that thought didn’t stop the tears.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?! You love this, you’re great at it, you know how to do it, so why are you doing this?!”

I heard a small gasp of air and stopped moving. She let her head fall to rest on the ice, one hand over her eyes. We were on our sides; I leaned back just slightly so she could lay on her back, allowing me to look at her, finding her lips trembling, nose red.

“Lourdes-” I whispered.

“He’s gone.” She cried. “He won’t be there. He’ll never be there.”

It was enough to make me cry, too. But I tried to steady my voice when I asked, softly, “be where, Lou?”

I didn’t need to know who, of course. Her tears fell heavily down her face to her hair.

“I always thought-” she hiccuped, “I always pictured it. Competing. Winning. I always thought– Whenever I dreamed about the– The Olympics. I had it all planned–”

“And you can go!” I told her, teary.

She shook her head. “I was going to do it, and I was going to finish and in the end when– when people clap and I bow, I was going to do the bows and then I was going to find you guys in your seats.” She took her hands off her eyes, and stared at the ceiling. “Mom, dad, you and Lou… I was going to skate to where you were, and do another bow just for you.”

I felt my chest tighten painfully. She brought her hands to her lips and blew a kiss to the ceiling.

“I was going to do this and wave and skate off… and– and I wouldn’t even be too worried waiting for my notes, because you’d be there.”

I felt my own tears fall to the ice, and let my head rest on the floor, too.

“You’d have gone, right? All of you. If it was the Olympics, I mean.”

“Of course.” I told her. “Of course we would.”

She looked at me. “And now he won’t be there.”

“Oh, sweetie.” I leaned in, touching my head to her shoulder. “He… He’d be so upset to hear this.”

She sat up. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” I replied, looking at the ceiling. “’He won’t be there’? Well, no, Lourdes, he won’t be anywhere. He won’t… he won’t see my wedding. My kids will never know him. So, what should I do? Should I never get married? Never have kids?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” She complained. “Every time I get in the ice, every time I look at my skates, that’s all I can think about! That he won’t see the next jump I learn, that he won’t help me pick a dress or a song. That he won’t be there when I win–”

“Yeah, Lourdes, you don’t think I know what that is?!” I sat up, grabbing hold of her elbow so she’d look at me. “My entire existence now is a reminder that he’s gone! Every time someone calls me ‘Crown Princess’, every time I think about my future, it just means that he’s gone! Should I give that up, too?! Hope you’re ready to be Queen, then!”

She shook her head, but her lips were trembling again. I reached out with my hand, caressing her back. When she started sobbing, I pulled her close, and she let me, leaning into my arms tightly wrapped around her.

I let her cry, for as long as she needed. When her sobs spaced out, I started clearing the ice off her clothes gently.

“Everything reminding us of him is just… what grief is.” I told her. “It sucks. It’s… it’s all this love that was his, that we still feel, but have no one to give it to, anymore.” I brushed the hair off her face with my hands. “But we don’t stop. We can’t. He’d be so pissed if we did. We just… we keep going. And we remember him. I teach my kids about the uncle they’ll never know. You get to that podium and think of him… and wherever he is, he’ll be proud. That’s what we do.”

I kissed the back of her head, and she sat up, cleaning her face with her hands.

“But for that to happen, you can’t quit.”

She stared at her hands for a while, calming her breath. Then, she nodded.

“Okay.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Happy holidays!!!!!! Hi. How are you? How’s your end of year been? I am home, christmas was chill. Ate a lot. Back to work now. Trying to pull a hamilton and write every night like i’m running out of time. Did anyone watch Bridgerton? Because I am OBSESSED. Anyway. I KNOW. Another moment interrupted. Thsoe can only happen a few times guys, I promise we’re nearly there haha THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I am so blessed to have you and so grateful to you for being here! I’d love to know your thoughts. Anything you’d like to see more of? Other than H and MM, of course! lol Savoy or MM’s family things? Work? Royal events? Friends? Let me know =) Also, I’m still working on fixing a masterlist of chapters, so look out for that!

We’re nearing phase 2 of the story and I am excited to share with you! THANK YOU FOR READING! And.......HAPPY NEW YEAR!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters

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aphspain-pure · 4 years

Text

Back to de past, right to the future [Chap. I]

Category: Fanfic.

Pair: EngSpa, UkSpa.

Words: 2.611.

Genre(s): drama, historical, yaoi.

Abstract: England feels some magical disturbance in the air that morning. How could he have imagined that it was caused by his own self, but some centuries ago.

Pirate England suddendly appears in the Modern Era.

________________

When he opened his eyes, England could not focus well.

It was dark and cold, but the tremendous and familiar humidity of his cabin or any of the parts of his ship was not noticeable. Nor could he feel the typical rocking of the waves of the high seas, so he deduced that, God knows why, he was not in his boat.

He scrambled to his feet and took a quick look around him in dismay. He was in complete darkness but, thanks to the patch over his left eye, he was quickly able to get used to the lack of light. Only then he did recognize the place.

This was his magic room, where since Viking occupation times he had conjured his spells and his miracles. It was cloudy, dark and penetrating as always. There was nothing out of place except for him, who couldn't bring himself to remember how in the hell he had gotten there. He did not remember even having arrived at port, even having approached Great Britain. The last thing he remembered was being on his ship, somewhere between the Caribbean and the West Indies, and he couldn't figure out how or when he ended up there.

Grunting in disagreement, with a hangover of a thousand horrors, he decided to leave the questions unanswered for later and get up, dusting himself off, ready to go out and yell at the first servant who crossed his path. He didn't know what was going on but he didn't care, at least he wouldn't think about it until he'd had his first shot of whiskey or rum and kicked a couple of arse.

Or so he thought, unhinged, until he opened his special room’s door and took a look outside.

- What the bloody hell?

____________________________

In another part of London, England watched the energy in the air with a puzzled countenance, noticing slight arrhythmic disturbances in the wind while enjoying his famous breakfast tea. He was in a cozy old café from his Victorian era that still stood to this day and which England cherished with pure English love and courtesy. He had decided to have breakfast there, early, to arrive with plenty of time for the world conference that day. That was why he had left the house exceptionally early, even if he usually preferred to get up at a moderate hour and take it easy on homely mornings.

He sighed. He had once been a man of action.

Maybe America was right when he accused him of being a boring old curmudgeon.

He calmly finished his cup of tea, retrieved his coat from the courteous waiter who had stripped him of it earlier –a practice which, now almost extinct in modern times, England greatly appreciated-, thanked him and left. The day was cloudy and threateningly rainy in London, as usual.

Thus, once outside, he felt again that feeling of unease that had been attacking him for some time. A spiritual unrest, as if something bad was about to happen. Deciding not to become paranoid, he called his chauffeur to take him to the boardroom right in the center of Westminster.

__________________________

He arrived early, and the only other nations besides himself already there were Germany, Switzerland, Netherlands, and Japan. The rest would still be in their respective hotels or even, if they had decided to fly from their countries that morning, on the plane or the airport. As far as he knew, France used to prefer the latter option when meetings were held at his place, preferring to spend as little time as possible on British soil. And England could not say that it did not understand or disapprove of it; moreover, he would resort to the same when the situation was the opposite.

He walked over, respectfully greeted the three blonde nations, and calmly placed himself next to Japan. His transoceanic friend gave him a slight bow of the head. - Ohayo gosaimasu, Igirisu-san. How has the sun risen today? –he commented, in an appropriate and neutral tone.

England appreciated the chivalricism. – It isn’t being one of my best days, but I cannot complain. Anyway, good morning to you too, Japan. –And the Japanese gave him a small and short smile.

After that all went silent, and the only thing that was heard for a few minutes was the chalk of Germany hitting the blackboard as he wrote down the important points of the day. Everyone knew that the meeting would probably end as usual, with nothing clear, with the United States laughing and claiming to be a hero every few seconds, the odd country asleep, hysterical discussions between itself and France and Russia trying to make people become one with him, but Germany still insisted on trying to create a serious atmosphere. Internally, England admired and appreciated his dedication, even if it didn't get real results in the end.

Eventually the rest of the countries began to arrive one by one. The feeling of discomfort and that something was wrong did not leave the guts of the host country, anyway.

There was something strange, even dangerous, floating in the atmosphere. His sharp, mint green eyes scanned every corner trying to find the source of the discomfort, unable to find anything. He had a pleasant conversation with Luxembourg when he arrived and later he chatted with Portugal a bit, all automatically while he went over everything. Each time the air was tighter from a supernatural point of view, as if the Disaster itself was drawing closer and closer.

It wasn't until Norway appeared in his field of vision that England paid any real attention to something.

Usually they would do nothing but greet each other from afar with a minimal movement of the head. But if Norway had stood there, in front of him, it definitely meant something.

Getting to the point, the Nordic inquired. - What the hell is happening here? –With his frankness and usual calm voice.

England, sighing, crossed his arms and furrowed his thick eyebrows.

- It's been bothering me since this morning. I don't know what the hell it can be, but it's downright disturbing. It is… like a powerful presence but at the same time cloudy. And the strangest thing of all is that it looks strangely familiar to me.

- Yeah… -the other man agreed-. It's ... certainly familiar in some way. –Then he looked around-. And every time it seems to increase that energy. You haven't used magic again while drunk, have you? –And for a moment, England looked offended. At least before recalling the hundreds of times it had actually happened, after which he quietly apologized.

Trying to hide that he was somewhat ashamed of himself, he cleared his throat and muttered that he didn't remember conjuring anything lately. That definitely upset the Norwegian's stern gesture a bit.

- So this doesn't make sense.

A moment later the Italian brothers entered and Germany called the session off. He and Norway were forced to separate, but not before sending each other glances of beware of anything and nodding in agreement.

But in these, just as Germany was about to start with the first point of the day, the main gate that led to the huge boardroom was thrown open.

And the most incredible thing happened.

- What the hell is going on here by gad!? –The sordid growl of the new presence broke in. They all immediately turned to look there and, simply petrified, England stood up, shocked, knocking the chair over.

In front of them stood an astonishing 17th century pirate captain, dressed in his grandiose red coat, his worn flat boots, his jeweled saber, his open ruffled shirt, the typical gold ear rings, the eye patch in the eye and the so characteristic captain's hat. His voice had been sordid and commanding and his eyes exuded the amusement and danger of a true saltwater buccaneer. Someone who, at least the European countries and some former colonies, recognized immediately. He licked his lips leisurely as he began to draw his sword.

- You're already singing if you don't want to die, you louts! What does this all mean? –And pointed the sword towards the large table full of perplexed countries.

The attention fell entirely on him, in a frozen moment of time, until someone else claimed it.

- What the bloody hell are you doing here!?

Then the newcomer pirate's eyes lifted until, surprised and interested, they rested on the emitter. He looked directly at England, dressed and mature, with an uneasy and confused smile. - I should ask you the same. What is this all supposed to be? –taking great strides and dangerously dancing his saber with that deranged look of his-. You better start spitting it all out if you don't want to taste my steel, you fucking bastard.

And England, still not fully recovered from his shock, tried to articulate something to calm the hotheaded just as the door opened a second time. This time, timidly and slowly.

- Eh… Hello? I'm sorry I'm late again, I've fallen asleep again haha… -from a newcomer Spain who nervously rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed gesture.

This intrusion impressively attracted the pirate’s attention.

- You... –he blurted out, lifting the eyepatch to see perfectly with both eyes, as a wolfish grin stretched the corners of his lips and he screamed in exaltation-. On guard, you bastard!

And before Spain could even react, the subject came forward like a veritable bloodthirsty beast towards him. The ancient empire, instinctively, placed his body on guard against the imminent attack, which he would have been about to receive if it had not been for the sudden cry that devastated the room:

- SLEEP!

And the body of the said pirate man fell inert to the ground. England had conjured something to make him abruptly fall asleep. The boardroom was suddenly silent.

England and Spain looked at each other in shock.

- ...What the hell?

_____________________

When pirate England emerged from the dark abyss of unconsciousness again, it appeared to be back at its home outside London. He blinked a few times as he growled and groaned at the post-spell pain in his tormented mind. He cursed the other England, the one from the future who had had such a naughty face, and tried to regain control of his body.

It was then that he was known prisoned. His arms were tied with a thick, scratchy rope to the back of the chair he was sitting on. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, really not very impressed, and later turned his gaze straight ahead.

The familiar face of his presumed captor managed to get an idle, amused smile from his lips.

- Scared that I might bite you, darling?

Which was quickly answered by a. – Dare to even suggest such a thing and I will hang you before you can take a step. –Which brought an even bigger smile and a greater sparkle in the other's eye.

There, sitting on the sofa, Spain was holding a rare article of paper with many hyper-realistic letters and images that he seemed to be reading carefully. But England knew better. He knew as the best what face this handsome jerk made when he was really focused, and the one he made when he tried to fake it. Catching Spain in the middle of that picaresque action seemed as charming as it was amusing, and he could not but fall into the temptation to frustrate him in his attempt.

- I do not know anything about the future, but just by seeing those whore's clothes that you bring, I think I would not mind being in your humble care a little more.

A vein was marked in Spain’s forehead who, honestly, had been years, decades…! With no real dislike for England. An insincere and tight smile showed his vain attempt at impassiveness. –This I am wearing is a simple "shirt", the type of garment that is worn today for formal meetings.

- Well, what a scandal, how immoral! With that tight-fitting blouse, I could see your nipples from nautical miles away. –To which, with a new vein marked, Spain jumped just at the time that contemporary England entered the room.

He carried with him a small silver tray with two porcelain mugs of Earl Grey and a few small butter cakes. His entrance surprised the other two. Immediately, however, Spain pointed at the captive and yelled at the newcomer. – Tell this uneducated you that neither my shirt is obscene nor am I a whore, now!

That sudden demand caught England off guard, whose first thought was to look directly at the named shirt, seeing, therefore, how the white fabric hugged and made the tanned skin transparent. He swallowed hard for a moment, which his other self took advantage of to act funny.

- From the familiar treatment that you two maintain I deduce that, very and at the same time not so much to my regret, in the future the Spanish Empire and I have that kind of intimate relationship. –Whistling at the sudden sight of a red and indignant England and an angry Spain-. In the bull’s eye, isn't it?

Making that this time, yes, Spain was so frustrated that he ended up pouncing on him.

The action awakened the green in the captive's eyes, amused to the core that he had finally made the future version of his rival lose his temper. Spain fell on him, a pair of strong hands and –although not as calloused as he himself remembered- still rough from the work in the fields surrounding his neck with accumulated resentment.

He held back a smile.

- Ahh... I see that you are both quite rusted …

And, shocking Spain (who had still been trying to hang him), he broke free from his moorings and abruptly swapped positions.

England, from outside, watched in shock and without being able to speak as, in front of his eyes, his former self turned the tables and placed himself with the force of a beast above his current EU partner. Spain had fallen backwards and his hands had been forcibly captured on his head; he writhed like a sardine as he looked badly and –almost- growled at the one who just two seconds ago had been tied to a chair. Immobilizing his body, the pirate had mounted on him, leaving him unable to actuate any movement.

Looking indiscreet and almost with little concealed grimace, England glanced in the direction of present-day Britain. - Even a bastard child who has not seen more boobs in his life than his mother's would have loosened a knot that simple. –He growled, nodding at the untied rope lying on the ground. Making disgust, this time he directed his words to Spain under his grip-. Are you grossly underestimating me or are you so old that you have forgotten what you were capable of in the past...?

The three pairs of green eyes maintained that tense look for a few long seconds in which, little by little, the pirate began to change that tension for a deeper emotion.

Darker and more penetrating eyes as they went down through the other's tanned build. – Although I have to admit that this body is not that of an old man, no sir ... –taking the liberty of passing a hand from Spain’s chin to his tanned chest-. It's been a while since I saw this sinful skin so closely, I presume since 1588 …

And Spain’s eyes expanded in shock, while modern England’s nearly shook in bewilderment.

The apparition of Pirate Era England had opened something that had been buried centuries ago.

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #engspa #ukspa #spuk #aph spain #aph england #aph norway #pirate england #sorry this was kinda better in my mother tongue

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 6

My thanks to @statel for your help and guidance

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter six (NSFW)

Jamie’s eyes were open with the sunrise, as always. He didn’t mind his early rise because it gave him time to think before the trials of the day buried him. He kissed Claire’s cheek lightly and struggled not to laugh at the coil curls that buried her. She had not changed. She still kept a hand on him all night, she still purred when he wrapped her in his arms. She was still amazing.

His first stop was the galley to make coffee and find some bread to toast. He was excited about all this boat had to offer them and inhaled his breakfast so he could explore. When he stepped out on the forward deck, he couldn’t believe his eyes. During the night, they arrived at the first island and the boat was moored safely offshore. The island of Santorini was waking up, shops were opening, food was cooking, and the colorful island just came alive. This couldn’t wait, he decided and ran downstairs to wake Claire.

She looked so sexy having kicked the covers off. His eyes followed the curves of her back and ample butt, long legs and that tan line was driving him nuts. Slowly, Santorini faded from his recent memory and he crept up on the beautiful one. He kissed the back of her thighs and the nearness to her honey was crippling him. He rolled her to her back and opened her legs giving him access to her secret garden. By the time she was fully awake she was just minutes from organism and Jamie pushed her into the erotic wind and scooted up the bed to hold her while he pulled his trunks off.

“Will you have me Sassenach?”

“I insist,” she breathed with her eyes still closed.

Jamie froze when her still undulating inner muscles held him like a hand. He moved slowly at first, kissing her awake while he took possession of her body. When he let himself go, he held her pelvis up to him and buried himself in her softness. After several minutes he dropped to the mattress and turned into the girl monster, much like the cookie monster with a taste for pretty girls. Claire laughed and tried to avoid his kisses making him redouble his effort to kiss every inch of her.

“I’m sorry for waking you love.”

“You can wake me any time, day or night. What a fantastic way to start the day.”

“I have a surprise for you, but you must get up to see it. It is worth it Sassenach.”

Claire sat up and pushed her hair away from her face while she yawned and pointed to a drawer, “pick one.”

Jamie laughed at how many bikinis were in the drawer and took his time picking his favorite. It was a leopard print, and no bigger than the one she wore yesterday. She slipped it on and looked for her brush in the bathroom, coming out in under five minutes with her hair tamed in a ponytail. Jamie was bursting at the seams with energy and bounced out to make her coffee, telling her to hurry.

With a steaming mug in hand Jamie led her out the forward deck and watched her mouth drop open and then smile.

“She opened a section of railing and said, “first things first, sweet Jamie,” and jumped overboard with Jamie right behind her. They played in the water and kissed and played some more before swimming to the rear deck to climb back on board.

Maia appeared wearing a suit much like Claire’s and announced breakfast whenever they were ready. The table was set with juice, waffles, omelets, bread pudding, fruit, fried potatoes, and delicious sides they didn’t recognize but ate with complete faith it would be delicious.

Darius came in and shook Jamie’s hand introducing himself. They were close in age and seemed to hit it off from the get-go.

“I’ll tender you to shore when you’re ready, just let me know, I have to see to a repair of the navigation system.”

Jamie looked at Claire, “if it means we’ll be lost somewhere in these beautiful islands then don’t fix it.”

Claire laughed and headed for the shower, Darius to his task, Maia to the galley and Jamie to the rear deck to look at Santorini. Each time he thought about the night before he chased it out of his mind. She would be hurt and angry if he told her now, or at the end of the trip. It wasn’t an easy decision.

Darius tendered them ashore leaving them with a small walkie talkie to radio the yacht when ready. Jamie and Claire walked their feet off all morning and stopped for lunch at an outside grill. They decided to rent scooters to see more of the island and other than two almost crashes, Claire figured out how to ride the scooter. It was a dream day, and on the way back to the boat Claire fell asleep on Jaime’s shoulder. He looked at her and felt his heart squeeze.

Claire opened her eyes the next morning confused by the darkness of the bedroom and then she heard the mighty thunder overhead and jumped out of bed to dress. She loved thunderstorms and couldn’t wait to get to the deck.

She halted right before opening the glass door. Jamie stood on deck watching the storm come in. He was such a gorgeous man it was hard not to sigh each time he looked at her. He must have felt her stare and turned around to smile at her. He held his hand and she took it.

“Claire, I secured a new mooring on the other side of the island. If we stay here we take the front head-on. We weigh anchor in the next five minutes, okay?”

“Yes, whatever is best, do you need any help, Darius?”

He didn’t know what to make of that question at first, so he just smiled and said it was all under control. Claire wrapped her arms around Jamie’s waist and put her head on his shoulder. This was surreal. The beauty, the boat, the islands, the storm, and the man. Mostly the man.

The rain held off until they were securely moored on the other side of the island. The rain came with a vengeance as the wind blew the rain sideways. Maia and Claire ran around the yacht closing windows and bringing in lightweight items from both decks, so they didn’t blow away. They were soaked through in seconds, so Jamie had towels waiting for them. It was going to be an inside day and not one of them would be bored.

While the storm raged around them, Darius and Maia joined Jamie and Claire for charades, then broke out the board games and switched the teams throughout the afternoon. Claire and Maia served dinner just as the storm was moving out.

“Tomorrow should be beautiful.”

“Claire, we can cruise all night and be moored at Crete when you wake up.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t expect you to stay up all night. Let’s set off at first light.”

Darius reluctantly agreed, still getting used to an owner with a heart. He and Maia cleaned up the living room and galley while Jamie and Claire found their way back to the top deck. It was the highest point on the boat offering a 360 view of the sky and a built-in double lounge for comfort. The air was fresh and cool after the rain and Jamie ran down for a quilt to snuggle under. They were so high above the water it felt like they could touch the stars in the black sky.

They talked until early morning, covering various topics, both eager to learn more about the other. The air warmed up with the retreating storm and Jamie removed a piece of Claire’s clothing about every fifteen minutes until she was naked and pulling him to her. It felt very risky to make love on the upper deck, adding erotic energy that raised the bar on explosive orgasms. They were exhausted and clinging to each other before sleep swept them away.

“Sassenach, you must wake up and dress to get downstairs.”

Claire could hear the edge in his voice and opened her eyes to a new dawn and mooring. “Jesus, there are people all around us!”

Jamie held the quilt up so she could slip into her suit while he chuckled. “On or off makes little difference Sassenach.”

They walked downstairs quietly and found the privacy of their bedroom where they could sleep the morning away before exploring Crete. Claire heard all about Lallybroch the previous evening, Jamie’s parents and his sister. The more she knew the better he became.

Every other day Darius would bring them to another island for exploration, snorkeling, eating and drinking. It was, by anyone’s definition, the perfect vacation. On their last night, Jamie pulled her up to the top deck for a much-needed conversation that Claire had thought out well in advance. She would give him anything he asked her for.

“I will miss this view Sassenach.”

“Me too, the stars are beautiful.”

“Oh, yes, the stars too. I have a concern about when I will see you next. I love you lass and don’t want to live without you.”

“I still have two months of summer vacation left. Maybe I should come to Scotland? Would you like that?”

“Aye, I would, when?”

She laughed at his anxious face and kissed him. “As soon as I wrap up the last of my semester projects. Maybe a week?”

“That is perfect, now I feel better, so what happens if I pull this string?”

Darius pulled up to the dock the next morning and they said their goodbyes. Claire hugged Darius so tight he laughed and blushed. She did the same to Maia adding a kiss and a thank you to both of them.

“Maybe you could borrow the yacht again, soon.”

Claire’s mind raced with different ways to answer that question and she fell back to her commitment to the truth.

“It’s my boat, Jamie. It’s part of my inheritance. I’m sorry I didn’t say that before, it just never came up.” A half-truth is better than no truth, she decided. It was actually payment for stealing two Degas paintings, one from London, the other from a private collection in Romania.

Jamie was quiet but smiling and Claire waited. “A girlfriend that is beautiful, sexy, fun, and she owns a yacht. I don’t think there’s a better treasure to be had in this life.” He stopped in the middle of the airport and kissed her, hoping it wasn’t the last time.

Claire clung to Jamie when it was time to board her flight. She didn’t want to leave him and there was nothing in Chicago she couldn’t replace, including her job. He pushed her curls behind her ear and studied her sad face.

Will you be in Scotland by next week lass? That’s a good girl and please let me know you are home safe. He kissed her again and she walked quickly to security and onto her gate.

“It’s like you take the oxygen with you when you go.” He said watching her walk away.

After the dream vacation of the past two weeks, Claire wasn’t looking forward to anything other than leaving for Scotland. Her building on campus was mostly empty and quiet, feeling kind of eerie as she approached her office. There was no Geillis running after her, verbalizing every topic in her head, and no students hanging around waiting to speak to her. That means no interruptions, she told herself and sat down to work.

She didn’t hear him approach, even though the building echoed when empty. When she looked up, there he was at her office door, asking for a moment of her time. He sat across from her in his three-piece suit and seemed to size her up before speaking.

“Doctor Beauchamp, I represent the coalition that is active in Frank Randall’s campaign for governor of Illinois. It is vital that he receive all the support necessary to be the best candidate and win the election. He was supposed to be married this summer, to you, and we are not happy the vows have been canceled. You and Frank have had a long, well known relationship that would look unstable if he was to marry someone else, so you have a large wedding to plan and make sure you sparkle on your big day. There will be hundreds of pictures taken that day I’m sure.”

Claire stared at the man completely mute. She was suddenly afraid and there was no one to hear her scream.

“Don’t be absurd. I have a restraining order on that man, so I’m hardly interested in marrying him.”

Claire stood up and reached for her briefcase running physically into the man when he stood to block her. He looked down at her and suggested she sit and continue the conversation. Now she was terrified.

“I will not marry that man so peddle your story to someone else.”

“I’m afraid you are the best candidate for the governor’s wife and in three years, the first lady. A professor of fine arts at the University of Chicago is exceptional. I suggest a romantic dinner this Friday at your new apartment on Michigan Avenue, number 1103, the view must be breathtaking from up there. Frank will agree and you will be married in September.”

“You’re not listening…”

“I don’t have to listen Doctor Beauchamp because it isn’t an offer or a choice. We are counting on eight years in the White House and after that you can run away with James Fraser if you want, we don’t care.”

“Last I checked it was illegal to force a person into marriage,” said through clenched teeth, she was seething.

“You won’t be forced, Claire, and I don’t bring a water pistol to a gunfight, I bring an Apache helicopter fully loaded.”

The man sent a text to someone and two minutes later he held the phone out for her to see a live stream of Jamie working on a barn. The camera zoomed in on his face and Claire gasped.

“I have a man at Fraser’s estate and your beloved is in his crosshairs. Go to the police, try to run, and Jamie dies. Now, let’s look at your godfather’s business, oh, he’s been breaking the law fencing stolen art and he’s moving millions per year. Too bad he wasn’t a better chef.”

Claire’s mind was racing trying to outthink this horrible man. He watched her for a minute and smiled.

“Give us eight years in the White House, and play nice so he doesn’t beat you to death, and all will be well…Casper.”

The man stood and moved to the door, and like he had an afterthought he turned toward her.

“Our candidate will look holier than the pope when he runs for governor and then president of the United States. It is unacceptable to have an ex-girlfriend reject him, but mourning over his dead love will provide a nice boost in ratings. We don’t need your permission, and you cannot bargain.”

“An Apache, fully loaded.”

Claire was shaking from her head to her feet. When she stood, her legs threatened to give way so she held onto her desk, and then the walls, and then the door frame, another wall, and then the exit door. The first step without support was wobbly but she finally made it to her car and drove home.

She took inventory of her predicament once in her apartment where she had felt safe until an hour ago. They will kill Jamie, they will expose Javier, they know she is Casper, and he threatened to kill her if she didn’t marry the vilest man in history.

She wasn’t well versed in spy technology but she knew they would track her credit card expenditures, so she needed cash and a lot of it. They would tap her phone and have her watched and followed. She jumped up to write a message on her computer and run it through Tom. When her fingers touched the keyboard, she realized they would have a keystroke recorder and see everything she typed. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.

“I will take it, and I’ll need a quiet place and access to the secure internet for five minutes.” Claire handed her credit card to the clerk at Best Buy and followed his pointed finger to the back room where she found a hub to plug her new laptop in. She flew through creating a new email and wrote a warning letter to Javier.

‘I want spaghetti and meatballs, three times the meatballs please. I will find a way to update you until I’m there.’

Claire sent the file to Tom remotely and pulled it back once it was coded. She sent it to Javier and went to her next destination. The safety deposit box was placed on the table in the vault. She pulled the fake passports and credit cards out and scooped the gold into her purse. She signaled the bank manager that she was finished and handed him a note with an offshore account number.

“Do you have affiliates in Veneto Italy?”

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“Please arrange a checking account in Veneto, Edinburg, and Athens, if you would. Be a darling and transfer three million from the account on the paper to each bank. Also, transfer three million to my account here. I will be traveling and I will be heavily reliant on my credit cards. Burn the paper when you’re done.”

“No problem, anything else, Misses Dunn?”

She handed the man three hundred dollar bills and received his pledge in his expression. She had set up her account under her alternate identity and was known to these people as Mary Dunn. The real Mary Dunn was in a deep coma at her family’s estate in France. Her husband asked his friend Javier for help burying the story of her car accident and the problem was taken care of. Claire visited the family with Javier and sat with Mary for quite some time. She was a beautiful woman with three gorgeous sons and a husband who loved her. It seemed so unfair and her heart broke for the whole family. When she learned that Mary’s favorite artist was Gustave Courbet, she stole one of his paintings that was being reconditioned in the lower basement of the Louvre. Some flirting, some promises, and the painting was abandoned so the artist could meet and get lucky. Claire never had it so easy and a week later the painting was hung on the wall directly across from Mary’s bed. When Claire received her Ph.D. and a job in Chicago, Mary’s passport, license, and birth certificate were given as a gift with the provision they would not be used in the commission of a crime. It was a safe way out of town, or the country, if ever needed.

Claire made her way to see Geillis and put the crucial part of the plan into action. She needed a safe way out of town and prayed Geillis would help her.

Geillis read the paper Claire handed her and saw the stark terror in her friend’s eyes which was sinking into her bones too. She nodded her head and Claire left.

Geillis read the instructions and dialed the airline making a reservation to Paris for Mary Dunn leaving tonight and used her own credit card looking at the one thousand in cash Claire had left on the table. She dialed a friend and announced she needed a favor and was coming over.

Claire dropped her make up bag, passport, driver’s license, and credit cards into her largest shoulder purse. Her plan and Jamie’s life were in the balance and she prayed for enough luck to pull this off. She needed a head start because once the coalition knew she ran, it would turn into a hunt for blood.

Claire and Geillis arrived at Ravinia and enjoyed the outdoor show, a trending jazz band that was very entertaining. Claire pounded three cans of beer and giggled to the restroom. Geillis moved her feet to avoid the puddle of beer on the grass and said a silent prayer. Claire wore a floppy, stylish hat with a huge brim to keep the afternoon sun out of her eyes. When she entered the restroom she looked at their friend who was waiting for her. Claire threw her clothes over the lavatory door and grabbed the woman’s clothes, holding her breath they would fit. They did and she let out a sigh of relief. She handed the hat to the woman along with three hundred dollar bills and hugged her tightly, thanking her. The woman walked back to Geillis looking a bit unsteady on her feet. Claire waited ten minutes and left in the other direction.

The most vulnerable time was waiting for a city bus to the airport and she tried to calm her ramming heart as she climbed on board and took a dirty seat next to a window. She wore a blond wig cut in a bob at her jawline, like the picture on her passport and license. She thought about the live stream of Jamie in that man’s hands and prayed he was alright.

If she was very lucky, the woman impersonating her would get dropped at Claire’s apartment building and lock herself inside. Geillis gave her the passwords to Claire’s computer so she could send an invitation to Frank for dinner Friday night. Tom was completely cloaked on Claire’s computer so there was no worry their friend would find it. She spent hours surfing the web for wedding planners, wedding venues, dresses, bride’s maid dresses, and poured over pictures of recent celebrity weddings. She didn’t mind, she loved Claire and was happy to burrow in this luxury apartment to give her a couple of days head start. From what she had no idea.

The security technicians reported back to the coalition that the subject has not left the apartment and Frank has accepted the invitation to dinner, all other activities were wedding related. The tall man read the report and smiled. “That’s a good girl.”

It was morning when Claire left the airport in Paris and started walking. She punched the numbers of Javier’s burner phones and heard a ring on the fourth try.

“Bear!”

“Send Joseph please.”

The line went dead and Javier motioned for Joseph to go get her. She might be a short-haired blonde at the moment, but Joseph would know Claire’s walk anywhere. He pulled up to the curb and she gratefully got into the front seat.

“I am racing the clock Joseph, Jamie Fraser is in danger, they are using him to force me to marry Frank. They want me with him for the next eleven years from governor to the White House.” Claire took a deep breath, “they know about Javier and they know I am Casper.”

Joseph was freaking out inside but patted her hand and promised all would be well.

“Or, Jamie is shot in the head for leverage, I am forced to marry a monster, and Javier goes to prison. You too I might add.”

“I get it Bear, all those things are possible, you must have faith in Javier. He is ready for this.”

Claire felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. What did he mean ready for this? When they were safely back at the mansion Javier listened to every detail and hugged his goddaughter like they had all the time in the world. When he stood up the smile disappeared and he strode into the outer office where his men were given specific instructions for moving the art, and every piece of paper in his office and restaurant. He twisted the dial on his wall safe and left it open so they could remove the money, gold, and treasures inside.

Javier picked up his burner phone and called his man in Scotland, explaining he was to find Jamie at Lallybroch and tell him to get out of the country before these men made an example out of him to put more pressure on Claire.

“Make it convincing my friend, or share the same fate as Fraser.”

There was much to do but Javier watched the men, looking for one in particular who had not shown up in almost a week after winning a weekend getaway at a luxury resort somewhere in France.

The corpse of a once loyal servant was buried in a landfill on the outskirts of Paris. His fingers were burned down to the second knuckle, one eye was gouged out, and his naked body was full of wounds from the sustained use of a cattle prod. When he cracked, he was delirious and near death. They got him to divulge Javier’s secrets by offering a drop of liquid pain killer into his mouth. They buried him alive in garbage where the tortured man lived another twelve hours in extreme pain.

Jamie grabbed a wrench next to the tractor he was under and started to line it up with a stubborn bolt. He could hear a car in the driveway and peaked out at a small man running toward him.

“I have your order Mister Fraser. Please show me where to set up lunch.”

Jamie looked up at the weird man who seemed about ready to shake himself out of his boots. When Jamie didn’t move the man quietly said it’s from Claire and they must go inside. Jamie walked the man back to the house and read the note he was given, then he looked at the stack of money and fake identification. The little man handed Jamie a ticket to Venice, Italy, and a note with an address in Veneto.

“Wait a minute! What the hell is this all about?”

“There is a sniper in the woods across from your estate. When he gets the call, he will shoot you in the head. Find a way to the airport without being seen or die in the attempt. She will meet you in Italy. Good luck Mister Fraser.”

The man left the house and drove away. The sniper in the woods was sound asleep and missed the whole episode.

Jamie sat down in the kitchen wondering what the hell happened to cause these preparations. It was unnerving to think Claire was in trouble and he couldn’t reach out to her. He started planning his escape when his cell phone buzzed for an incoming message. One of the men on his team sent twelve fuzzy pictures recovered from the close circuit hard drive at Sotheby’s. His team had no idea he pulled from prison and was now going back. The pictures were absolutely useless, but Jamie looked through them a few times to give his body some time to normalize after the shock. He squinted at one picture that seemed indiscernible at first glance but there was something there that he needed to see. He downloaded the jpeg to his graphics program and sharpened the image before making a copy with higher resolution, he used other filters to clean up the image and then enlarged it gradually, making a copy with higher resolution each time. When he had the image at 300 dpi, he enlarged it and hit print. He pulled the picture out of the printer and stared at it, moved to the light of a window, and finally turned it upside down. There it was.

Jamie threw his gear in a backpack and came downstairs in time to see Angus sneaking in the front door. Jamie slapped him on the back and Angus looked into his friend’s worried eyes. They waited in silence until they heard Rupert coming into the driveway, revving his engine and honking his horn.

“Good luck Jamie.”

Angus pulled Jamie’s jacket on and kept his head down as he ran to the truck. It was too dark to see much more than a hunched shape get into the truck and head for the fields to spin donuts and generally be loud, obnoxious, and attention-grabbing.

Jamie went out the other side of the house and ran a half a mile to find Angus’s motorcycle parked under a weeping willow that had been a rendezvous spot since they were kids. He jumped on the bike and made for the airport in Edinburgh. Angus would pick the bike up tomorrow in the underground parking.

Javier hugged Claire and then held her hands. She was in a lot of trouble, no doubt about that and he would help all he could, starting with research on the coalition.

“You stay ahead of them Bear, just don’t let them catch you. I need time to find their weaknesses and we will play the same deadly game with them.”

“Javier I am so worried about you, once they know I’ve bailed they will come here looking for you.”

“I am too old to fight so thank God we won’t be here. The men have been scattered far and wide for their own protection. Joseph and I are going underground. Please touch base once a week or this old man will worry himself to death.”

Joseph gave her a warm hug even though he was driving her to the airport. Claire walked backward so she could keep Javier in sight and blew him a kiss before she went through the door.

Joseph watched her walk into the airport with nothing but the clothes on her back, heading for a place she has never been, to meet a man that might already be dead.

“God speed, Bear.”

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thewookie78 · 3 years

Text

The person in the bed.

Sarah was walking towards her cousin's flat to pick up some stuff for him. He was in hospital all the way in London. He had been visiting family and sight seeing when he fell over and bumped his head on the pavement. He was currently in saint Thomas's hospital by the Thames River. In a coma. Doctors didn't know when he would wake up. But they were hopefully it shouldn't be too long.

Sarah approached the flat pulls out her keys. The keys her cousin gave to her incase she needed to be alone when he was in London. Sarah was not the sort of person that was very sociable. Yes she had friends but no one close. She had always got on with her cousin Adrian. He was a older male and quite nerdy. They both had the same love for doctor who and would share fan theory via text messages.

Sarah turns the key and opens the door. As she walks into the flat that she was in early that day to relax and do some cleaning. She thought she heard something in Adrian's bedroom. The windows were closed the doors locked no one should be in the flat at all. It sounded like someone was in the bed tossing and turning trying to get comfortable.

Sarah had been called to get some stuff for Adrian like clothes and possibly one of his many hand held consoles. He was a gamer and could not help himself buying the latest games consoles. His current favourite was a Xbox. Sarah thought that's what he called it.

Sarah walked the corridor to the bedroom to see who or what was there. Walking quietly as not to wake the possible person in the bed.

Sarah popped her head around the corner and saw Adrian. That can't be right Adrian was in London in a coma. No way he could be here. One he didn't even have his keys she had his keys. And no one knew where the spares ones were. Not even Sarah. They might have got lost in all the boxes after the move to her new flat down the road.

Leaning against the wall Sarah pulls out her phone and calls the only person who could help. Her uncle Roger.

Roger was walking towards the shops to get food for a family lunch. Members of the family were taking turns being next Adrian's bed in the hospital hoping he would come out of the coma. Burgers that would be a good idea he would have to get some salmon steaks for his wife to be Gabbi. He could make a mature fish cake instead of a beef burger. Roger walks into the shop picks up a basket and continue to pick up the ingredients he would need for his culinary master piece.

The music being some what upbeat but with a slight hint of flat. Like the music was in another room. Roger walks towards the till to pay when he hears his phone ring. He quickly packs the shopping and pays then runs out of the shop to answer the missed call.

The first thing Roger hears is Sarah saying you need to ring the hospital to see if Adrian is still there. This was odd of course he was still there in a coma. Coma patients don't just walk out of hospital and do so without anyone noticing. Roger responds with What is the matter. Sarah sighs and says she is currently in Adrian's flat to pick stuff up for him and he is currently in his bed snoring like he always did. Roger pulls the phone away from his ears on utter shock. He puts the phone back to his ears and says I will ring them as soon I get back to my place. Will call you back with and information. Please send a photo I need to see this.

At a small desk in a corner of a small room a nurse is sitting drinking a cup of tea it's been a hard few days this gentleman had fallen over in Trafalgar Square. The phone rings the voice says there's this guy on the phone to ask if his nephew is still there in the hospital. The nurse nurse finds this odd. She says who should I be looking for. The voice on the other end says the gentleman is called Adrian. The nurse looks at the phone in utter confusion. She had not long seen Adrian his aunt Sue. Who was reading a magazine about boats in the chair next the bed.

Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign that he had moved a inch. The nurse says I will have a look but I don't understand why I would need to. The voice on the other end of the phone says his cousin claimed to have seen him in his own bed in his own flat in his own home town in Devon.

This can't be right that's hundreds of miles away. No way this is true it's got to be some type of prank. The nurse walks the ward towards the bed on one with the gentleman called Adrian. As she does she looks for hidden cameras.

Sarah is sitting in the sitting room. Quietly panicking. Walking back and forth. Then a voice says could you not do that Sarah. I'm trying to get some sleep here. Then she hears a head hit the pillow yawn then nothing. It was quite again. This did not help Sarah one bit. She decides to sit down. Holding her phone for Roger's update.

The nurse walks towards the bed the aunt still reading the magazine about boats. The bed completely empty no Adrian. No one at all. This can't be right this is impossible. Coma patients don't just walk out of hospital without someone noticing. The nurse runs towards the nurses desk in the ward and picks up a phone and calls the security personnel.

Some where in a alleyway a security guard having a sneaky cigarette. Leaning against a wall outside in one of the blind spots that none of the cameras could see. A phone rings the security guard picks up the phone and answers it. To hear the voice of his boss shouting a patient had gone missing and where hell was he. The security guard put out his cigarette and runs back to the office to find out what the hell was happening.

The head of security was sweating bullets leaning against a wall with one hand. How the hell could a coma patient just disappear. Every person that was supposed to be in the hospital is here and accounted for. Except this one guy called Adrian who was in a coma. What the hell is happening. How was the question running around his head Ross and been doing security for this hospital for over 4 decades. And not one person in that time had gone missing. His wife had called him. Martha was not the sort of person who panicked about anything.

His wife was the calm one in the relationship. She worked in the coma wards for as longs has he been working here. That's were they first meet many years ago. Looking after his mother. She was a young beautiful lady that he could not take his eyes off. It was the first thing his mother noticed when she woke up. It's was like a sign from god that he found the one.

Roger was in the kitchen trying to cook but the photo of Adrian in his own bed and not at the hospital was just distracting him. He had shown the photo to everyone but they just looked at it and said this has got to be a joke. A prank. Roger felt like no one was taking this seriously. Like they couldn't except that something like this was even possible.

It reminded him of disc world characters walking passed death and not being able to believe it because that sort of thing was impossible. The phone rang with the nurse saying that Adrian was currently missing and no one could find him. They had called the police to go and find him. Roger tells the nurse she need to see this. Roger sends the photo.

Next minute he hears a gasp. The nurse says that's him that's Adrian. How the Holly shit did he get there. There's no way he could get down there between the time I saw him to when I got the phone call. No way what's so ever. Roger now in grips of the sort of panic he only joked about. With Adrian nah that just a coincidence. A unlucky flook. Roger calls Sarah to give her the update. The update he knew she was dreading.

Sarah now looking at her phone not wanting to make a noise. The idea Adrian was in he bed was under any other circumstances was perfectly normal but not today. Sarah had a odd feeling all day like it was going to be one of those days. Where nothing made sense.

The phone rings Sarah had forgotten in all the shock. To turn the phone onto vibrate. Next she hears foot steps coming towards sitting room. In the doorway is Adrian yawning and stretching. He turns to Sarah and says good afternoon I'm going put on some coffee want any. On the other end of the phone Roger stands still in total shock. He drops the phone onto the floor and calls out to everyone to tell them what he just heard on the phone.

Sarah shake her head. That's a shame I got some cool coffee when I was in London the lady said it was so nice it would make you transported to a place you love. I thought that was a weird way to describe a coffee. The nice old lady gave me a cup and omg it was a delicious coffee. Not bitter not burnt tasting. A smooth taste and feels of being in my own bed sleeping.

Adrian continue to look for the coffee but has a problem finding it. He turns towards Sarah and says. I must have left it in London silly me always forgetting stuff and leaving it at Rogers place. Do you fancy a cup of tea instead. Sarah laughs out loud. Yes cousin I would love one.

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Shul (Past)

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1521 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

A 3am run down memory lane and the streets of Brooklyn take Bucky on a bit of an emotional journey.

Read on AO3

Part 2 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series, Part 1 here

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Brooklyn’s nights aren’t as quiet as he remembers them to be.

There’s light everywhere now, noise and cars still driving by despite the fact that it’s 3am and no one should be outside at this hour.

It’s hypocritical, considering he ’s outside at this hour, one of the people adding unwanted noise to the night.

Granted, he’s quiet when he walks, when he watches. Even when he’s running, like he’s running now, taking advantage of the night to push his body to inhuman speeds, to truly feel his lungs burn as he struggles to take in breaths, to be outside without gloves on. He still has long sleeves, though.

He’s trying to be a regular guy, a regular neighbor. He knows he doesn’t exactly succeed, that his neighbors know he screams in his sleep. More often than not, he’s walking out in the middle of the night for a run. They must know there’s something off about him. He can’t be regular, can’t be normal, can’t go back to normal.

Because his normal died years ago. His normal is long fucking gone, and there are days he goes and explore Brooklyn and loses himself in the new buildings and the new pavements, and the everything he doesn’t recognize. When he’s lost, he feels the panic rising and no matter how many times Doctor Raynor has told him he can always use the GPS on his phone, he doesn’t think about it.

His normal died on June 15th, 1943, when the boat left the New York harbor and he shipped out to London. To the war. To die. Leaving Ma, Rebecca, Deborah, Astrid and Steve behind him. Leaving home.

He’d been young and foolish and he’d told himself every hour of that journey that he’d come home, that he’d be back, that he would see them again.

Ma died in 1963. Deborah in 1996. Astrid in 2018, right before the Snap. Rebecca’s still alive, in a retirement home in Indiana. Steve’s… Gone.

He should drink some water, but he doesn’t have any right now, as he makes himself come to a light jog. He just lets his throat burn, his body thirst. His mind cries.

His normal died a thousand times from June 15th, 1943 to October 30th, 2023, when Steve left.

How does one go back to normal when all there is to go back to is ash and gravestones ?

He could go see Rebecca. Doctor Raynor says it wouldn’t be a bad idea. That it would connect him back to reality. That it would stop him from living too much in the past. As if he wants to stop remembering his sister as 23 years old and smiling brightly, with her dark hair pinned in neat curls, young and innocent and with the same drive and recklessness as Steve.

Steve and her had been two peas in a pod. He’d fit into the family perfectly, from the day Bucky had first brought him home.

He doesn’t want to walk into the retirement home and see her, 103 years old, white-haired, heavy and old. Knowing her, she’d have her hair still neat and in curls. She loved that style. She’d hit him when he tried to touch her rollers.

He doesn’t want to lose those memories in the sake of connecting to the present. Some days, they feel like all he has anymore. Memories and a postcard from the Smithsonian gift shop, framed and put on the wall of his house. Steve’s smile. His own smile. It was war, yes, but they were happy, for one year, somewhat safer on the frontline than at home.

It’s 3am and he’s now walking on a Brooklyn street, and this one feels familiar, so he just keeps walking and keeps listening to his own heartbeat, to the way his breath hisses in and out of his lungs. He walks, and he’s sweaty and he knows he might ache tomorrow from pushing himself the way he just did, but that will be something, at least.

He should try and sleep through the nights. He’s on call, supposed to be ready to go whenever his superiors find a new Hydra safehouse they want him to clear. It’s a job he can do in his sleep, but it’s a job he’s supposed to not be completely exhausted for.

Fuck them, really. Fuck them and the looks they give him when he shows up looking like he hasn’t slept in days. Because he hasn’t . They should leave him the fuck alone, he’s done enough for them. As long as he does his job, they don’t get to judge how he looks doing it. They’re not his fucking girlfriend for fuck’s sake. He’s not even proper military anymore, so why do they give a fuck if his boots aren’t properly shined?

The street is empty and he feels like screaming, but he doesn’t. He’d wake people up. They’d stare at him. They’d call the fucking cops and he’d have to explain what he’s doing there, and Doctor Raynor would hear about it and so would the brass. Normal life is a chokehold.

He looks over at the sign with the street number on it. East 47th Street.

No wonder this one feels familiar.

He starts walking south despite himself, down the street to the corner he remembers the most. That’s where their shul used to be.

He walked that street many times when he was younger. In his nice Shabbos clothes, or his new Rosh Hashanah shoes, shiny and stiff, pulled down the street by his fasting mother, whining the entire way about the way the new leather made blisters bloom on his ankles.

Around any holiday of significance, the entire neighborhood would be singing and laughing. The tired baker would still shout ��Gut Shabbos Frau Barasch’ to his mother when she came to leave the kugel in his oven before shabbos. It was funny, the Yiddish, the German ‘Madam’, the use of the Romanian form of their last name, as if they hadn’t changed it years ago when they’d made it to Ellis Island.

He’s walking that street now so much older and so much more tired. The baker’s been dead for decades, probably, he was older than his ma. He was nice to them, helped them out a lot. Especially once his da had passed. He’d slip them some cookies for shabbos. He smiled a lot.

Everyone smiled a lot, despite the struggle, despite the work. Candles were lit, and people danced. He remembers the baker singing and dancing at his son’s wedding, warm and proud.

Everything was golden back then. The challah, Steve’s hair, his mother’s smile, the light through the stained glass of the shul windows.

The building is still standing. He sees it from far away and his heart quickens. Hope, crazy foolish hope takes over his mind, his tired eyes. Perhaps there’s still a hint of his childhood standing. Perhaps he hasn’t lost everything.

It’s as beautiful as he remembers. It’s been taken care of. The bricks are relatively clean for a city dirty as New York. His eyes scan over the façade, and that’s when he reads the words on the sign over the door.

47th Street Baptist Church.

His nails dig in his palm, opening wounds, and it stings as much as the tears that sting his eyes.

It’s a church. His shul is a church. They’re gone. They’re all fucking gone.

Everything’s gone. Why is he still there? Why is he still standing? Why did they have to make him live?

He turns back around and starts to run again. He runs away from the absolutely violent pain in his chest as he sees ‘church’ written between two stars of David. He runs away from the anguish of being alone.

What else can he do but run?

This is exactly why he doesn’t want to see Rebecca, no matter how much he misses her.

He’s alone. He’s alive because Hydra didn’t let him die. They didn’t let him die in the factory, when he was feverish and coughing from pneumonia, when he fell off the fucking train, when he begged for them to kill him, when he got shot on a mission and they begrudingly patched him up enough so he could be punished for wasting their ressources.

Somehow, he makes it back home. His fingers ghost over the mezuzah at the front door, like they always do now. Like they always did, before. For a second, he’s just a boy touching the mezuzah at his door, and he brings his fingers to his lips to kiss them. His real fingers. At least that’s something he hasn’t lost, right?

The door slams too loud, he stumbles through the corridor to his bathroom. He’s sticky with sweat, and he should shower but what he does is reach for his sleeping pills.

He takes one, swallows it with barely enough water, and walks to his living room. He lays down on the floor and waits for the pill to start working. To let him fall into the dreamless void of medicated sleep.

#bucky barnes #fic #mine #jewish bucky series

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darth-el · 4 years

Text

You’re So Damn Hypnotised

Pairing: Billy x Reader Warnings: Oh boy where do I start? Drugs (weed and cocaine), alcohol, descriptions of (really bad) sex, underage drinking and just general debauchery because. I’m going to say angst as well and there will most likely be smut in part 2 if you want. Probably going to do a little 18+ warning here as well Song Request: You’ll be Fine - Palaye Royale A/N: This is 5472 words. My longest one to date and I’m nowhere near done so part 2 is heading your way. The song to me felt like it had a seedy undertone to it so this is just pure sleaze on a road trip. I also took another bit of inspiration with the record label stuff from a program called Vinyl as I thought it would work well with this. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed. I am also English so I have no idea how long it takes to get from one place to another by road in the USA.

Masterlist

Part 2

Your life in London was fast and energetic. You were the daughter of punks who hung around SEX. After school you always went there and met your parents who would have been smoking joints with the people who turned out to be the punk icons. Your first joint was given to you by Sid Vicious when you were about ten. No one believed that when you told them. Your father started working for a large record label when you were five and transferred to New York when you were fourteen with a seventeen year old. You had never forgiven him for that, your mother blamed you for the end of their relationship which left your relationship with her strained. After your dad left she decided to study science and become a scientist, her logic was “I was good with drugs.” It became even more strained when she announced that you were moving to America as well. You hoped she meant to New York so you could be near your dad. This was not the case at all. She showed you your worst nightmare. It was called Hawkins. This was the America you had seen in films, it tried to be wholesome and patriotic. Within the first night of being there you had already found yourself driving to Indianapolis, but you were stopped when the cops pulled you over saying that the car, (your dad had bought you as a way to say “Welcome to America, I'll be father of the year from a distance”) was stolen. You still hadn't forgiven her for that.

Your first month at school was a whirlwind. Within that month your dad rang you to let you know that he wanted you to drive to LA with a friend, stop over Las Vegas, just because he knew you would like it and see a band he thought was called “Red Peppers” at a club on New Years Eve because he wanted to potentially sign them. It was going to be all expense paid and he was going to send you the money for gas, motels, and anything else you needed. The only problem was you didn't have any friends to go with. That was until one night you got really drunk at Tina's Christmas party. You were always spontaneous. You went to Barcelona with people you met two days before and spent the summer on a house boat with people you had met two hours into arriving in Barcelona. When you came back your mother fell through the floor which you thought was a bit unfair because you left her note. Her argument was that you were sixteen and they were in their twenties. Feeling spontaneous and drunk you ended up finding yourself locked in a bathroom with Billy, you laying in the bath with a joint and a bottle of whiskey you bought yourself, him sitting on the counter next to the sink also with a joint you had rolled for him planning the road trip to LA.

He dropped you off and you pulled him into your house and into your room, which was decorated with photos that gave him a glimpse of your past life. There were a couple that really caught his eye. One of you laying in bed with a lace bra on, red lips, cigarette hanging out of your mouth. Love bites covering your exposed skin as you stared down the lens of the camera. “16th Birthday” There was a little heart next to it which acted like your signature. The other one of you was you sitting on Tommy Lee's lap legs up in the air as you're leaning back laughing holding a bottle of champagne. “Motley Crue – 27/03/83” it read with the little heart on it. He didn't really think much of you at school as you kept your head down and when he did think of you he thought you were an uptight bitch who wasn't interested in him. You made that clear the first day when you were like stone when he hit on you. There was more to you that met the eye. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol but he was intrigued.

The December air was crisp outside. You were hoping LA was going to be warm, you craved the winter sun. You wrapped yourself up in a couple of blankets and made your way downstairs with your suitcases, with Billy's help. You were both drunkenly laughing trying to be quiet and also not trying to fall down the stairs due to the blankets that were wrapped around you. The moon illuminated the street as you walked to Billy's car you were dancing under the light the moon with your blankets still wrapped around you swaying with your movements. For the first time since moving to Hawkins you felt free and alive.

You both started to sober up, by that point it was too late to turn back. You were way into Illinois. Your feet were resting up on the dash you were sunk into your seat with arms resting and hanging over the back of your seat. Billy had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. There was a spark in the air. You looked at Billy whose eyes were stuck on the road. A month ago you were indifferent to him. He thought he was king of the school, he was egotistical. He was charming. He was like every guy you had dated. That's exactly why in your drunken state you chose him for this road trip. There was a comfort in the familiarity. He thought you were unlike anyone he ever met. It was like you were leading this double life. You were hard working at school, and quiet. He didn't realise you had an edge and that edge was sharp and a secret party animal who partied with the best it seemed. He realised when he was sitting in Tina's bathroom you gave him a way to escape from his family, even if it was for just over a week. This was the first time since he was a child that he felt carefree.

After a few hours you both realised you were getting tired and hadn't slept for almost a day. You found an old motel, you didn't know where you were. You didn't even know if you were heading in the right direction but to be honest you didn't care. You could have ended up in Mexico and you would have been happy. If you ended up in Canada you would have be slightly less happy. As you walked to the desk to check in you could tell this was motel was for truckers and affairs. It was musty and looked like it hadn't been decorated since the 1960's and hadn't been cleaned since the 1970's. You didn't care though, you felt an affinity to places like this.

“Room for two?” The girl didn't look up as she was chewing gum and filing her nails.

“You got it doll.” Billy leaned on the desk putting on his award winning charm which made the girl look up at him and as she handed him the key you noticed their hands touched, most likely by design on Billy's part causing her to blush. You rolled your eyes at this as you snatched the key from him as you were getting tired and wanted to sleep and made your way to the room. You opened the door and it was smokey. The walls were a dirty pink, with yellow smoke stains and god knows what else. The bathroom light when you switched it on was buzzing and flickering. Everything in the bathroom was avocado green and also stained with hard water. You were quite shocked there was no mould. You dumped yourself on the bed that you claimed and laid down on it as Billy walked through the door with his luggage and dumping it down next what was going to be his bed for the night. He looked at the TV in the corner which looked like it was from the 1960's and had seen better days. He sat on the edge of his bed and lit up a cigarette and turned on the TV. You walked into the bathroom to get out of your dress from the party and ready to go to sleep as tiredness had washed over you and you wanted to sleep through a potential hangover. You walked out the bathroom wearing nothing but a white loose fitting t-shirt and black panties that were nothing special, but they were comfortable. Billy snapped his eyes off the old black and white television and looked like he was eating you up with his eyes. You sat on you bed and grabbed another cigarette. Before you could even light it yourself Billy had stretched over to you with his lighter aflame ready to light it for you. You smiled at him softly and he matched your smile. You laid back on your bed resting on the headboard watching what was happening on the screen but not really taking it in.

“How long do you think until we get to Vegas?” You asked flicking the ash into the ash tray which was on the table which separated your bed.

“If we're going in the right direction, two days max,” Billy shrugged making himself more comfortable on his bed. When the cigarette had reached the end and you stubbed it out climbed under the blankets. “Do you want me to turn it off?” Billy asked as he went to the grab the control in preparation for the “yes.”

“I like the background noise while I sleep.” You said gently as you yawned and sinking further into the bed. Billy shrugged at this answer and made himself even more comfortable.

You woke up a few hours later with your hangover looming over you. Billy was asleep still as you quietly crept outside hoping there was a convenient store nearby as you had a craving for candy and a slurpee. You asked the girl at the reception if there was a 7/11 nearby, after not getting much of an answer out of her you decide to walk along the empty road in hopes of something that could help with your sugar craving. You gave up after about ten minutes as it was too cold for your liking and you weren't prepared to freeze to death for a slurpee. You walked back to your room to find Billy was in the shower. You plonked yourself down on the bed and deciding to watch the frazzled television. Billy came out of the bathroom not expecting you to be there as he was wrapped in nothing but in a towel. His wet hair clung to his wet skin. You couldn't help but notice the how the water droplets rolled down his chest.

“Bathroom is free if you want it.” He mumbled looking at you, as you looked at him biting you lip. You weren't sure if reality was going to hit you and make you both realise that this was not a good idea or if this would go in a completely direction.

“Thanks,” You slightly shook your head as if to snap yourself out of thought. “By the way it is cold out there.” You looked at him over your shoulder smiling before closing the door behind you. The light was making your headache worse. You turned on the shower and there wasn't much hot water so you had to make do. The lukewarm water was definitely not what you needed after venturing outside. The water started to chuck out cold making you yelp from the shock of it. You heard Billy knock on the door. “Are you okay in there?” He sounded mildly concerned. Partially because if you had slipped over and injured yourself he didn't want to walk in on you naked and potentially covered in blood.

“The water is cold!” You answered back as you tried to manoeuvrer yourself so you could wash your hair without getting too much cold water on you. You finally bit the bullet and plunged yourself fully into the cold water, making you curse like a sailor loudly.

You got out the shower and wrapped the towel around you and made your way into the room where Billy was sitting in his jeans and a white vest smoking a cigarette. You went into your suitcase and pulled out some clothes for the day. You could feel Billy's eyes on you. As you walked back into the bathroom you took Billy's cigarette out from between his lips and started smoking it yourself winking at him before closing bathroom door to get changed. You both decided to check out and make your way to Las Vegas which would probably take another day or so.

You managed to reach Colorado and the scenery was snowy and beautiful. You were once again relaxed in the passenger seat with your Polaroid camera in your lap. You were looking at Billy who was smoking, you never realised how much of a heavy smoker he was.

“Do you want play a game?” You asked breaking the silence.

“What game?” He looked at you like you were interrogating him.

“20 questions,” You sat up so you were kneeling on the seat facing him and you lit up a cigarette and smiled.

“You go first,” His eyes went back to the road sounding unsure about this. You pursed your lips in thought and took a drag of your cigarette.

“First kiss?” You blurted out. He looked at you a bit shocked at how quickly you asked the question, as he shifted in his seat.

“I was 10,” He said nonchalantly hoping that would be it, but he caught you out the corner of his eyes looking at him like you wanted more information. “Her name was Sammy and she was a neighbour who I had crush on.” He confessed quietly.

“I can't imagine you as a child,” You laughed as you exhaled creating smoke rings. This garnered his interest for some reason. “Were you as cocky then as you are now?” You teased making him laugh slightly.

“I was worse, especially after that kiss,” he sighed. You could see that he was slowly becoming more relaxed around you. “What about yours?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I was nine or ten,” You sat up slightly to roll the window so you could throw butt of the cigarette out. “We were playing kiss chase. It was so bad. It was literally all teeth.” You laughed at this memory and you could feel the clanking of teeth again which made you cringe in your seat.

“First time?” He asked with a slightly cocky smile on his face.

“It was so bad,” You giggled. “Okay, I was sixteen as was he. I was his first girlfriend and we decided to take the plunge...because his parents were out,” You start laughing even more. “It was awkward, it was painful, and foreplay was not part of his vocabulary. I literally timed him and he lasted for 90 seconds. After that, hearing 'you're so tight' makes me cringe,” You laughed hard and adjusted your position in the seat. “Yours?” You were still laughing as was he.

“Better than yours,” he was laughing at the thought of some fourteen year old boy thinking he was a sex god when in reality the girl was timing him because she wanted it over and done with. “I was sixteen. I was at a party, and I ended up talking to this smoking hot girl,”

“How hot?” You asked curiously.

“Think Brooke Shields, but hotter,” You raised your eyebrows in response partially because you wouldn't have clocked him as a Brooke Shields fan. “She was more experienced, knew what she liked and wasn't afraid to tell me. Turned out all the guys wanted to sleep with her, when they found I did...” His smile was still cocky as he took a drag on his cigarette.

“In came King Billy,” You giggled and he pointed at you with his cigarette and nodded. “Staying on the subjects of firsts, first memory?” You beamed a cheesy smile up at him, not that he was looking.

“I'm not sure how old I was, but I vaguely remember my mom carrying me and we're in our kitchen and she's dancing to Janis Joplin,” He sighed, taking another drag and throwing it out the window. “You?”

“I think it was my parents arguing in the next room over, I always knew when they argued because there were more holes in the wall,” You lit up a cigarette as you sank back into your seat. He stared at you blankly. The way you presented yourself gave him the impression your life was far removed from that. “Eyes on the road Hargrove!” You scolded him with no malicious intent as you thought you were going to crash as you couldn't see properly over the dash.

“The road is empty,” He laughed at your overreaction which made you roll your eyes. He wasn't exactly the safest driver at the best of times. “Worst sex you've had?” He tried to subtly look at you so he wouldn't going to get in trouble again.

“Before I moved here,” You had a think and tapped your chin with your fingers rhythmically. You stared off into the distance and you could see mountains line the horizon. “I slept with a yuppie, like I often did. He was coked up. Like they often were. We get back to his and he is obviously addicted as he can't get it up,” You bit your lips as you were telling this story because you couldn't believe you were telling Billy it.

“Jesus,” Billy laughed loudly.

“There's more,” You matched Billy's laugh somehow.

“More?” Billy sounded shocked at how much worse it could get.

“He goes to the bathroom, and comes back completely naked with a hard on, he does what he needs to do. Until I realise I am fucking numb down there,” Billy's eyes were as wide as dinner plates hearing this.

“Did he-” Billy could barely get his words out.

“Coke on the dick,” You nodded stifling your laugh. “I now need to hear yours to make me feel better.” You teased slightly as you went to take a photo of Billy who was lighting another cigarette.

“Also before I moved to that shithole,” Billy's eyes were glued to the road so he could avoid eye contact. “I met this woman on the beach who was very impressed with my surfing,” He smiled and you looked at him curiously. “She's trying every move in the book to get me back to her place,”

“Something you must have experience in,” You teased and a cigarette packet hit you in the face.

“It worked,” Billy laughed wondering how it worked in hindsight.

“Of course,” You threw the cigarette packet back at him and you felt pleased when it hit him in the face.

“We go back to hers, she's not enthused or anything. It's radio silent. Next thing she is shouting the name 'Will' loudly and the bedroom door opens and it's her boyfriend who chases me out of the house.” You burst out laughing at this which made you feel better about your own bad experience. You pull a pen out of your jacket pocket and scribbled “20 Questions – 23/12/84” and put your signature heart on it. He watched you curiously.

The rest of the journey involved you and him talking about childhood memories. Both the good and bad, funny sex stories, and comparing arrests. It shocked him that you had been arrested more than him. He started to realise you were not who he expected. You were mysterious, you were spontaneous, and he was actually enjoying your company. He wanted to know everything about you. You were sitting way down in your seat with your legs now hanging out of the window when the car started to overheat making Billy pull over so it could cool down. You were sitting on the opposite side of the empty road to him watching him as he smoked a cigarette with his sunglasses on and leaning against the car with foot resting on it. He was in his leather jacket and a white shirt. The sun was beating down on him. He almost looked like James Dean, if James Dean had a mullet or was an 80's icon. You took a photo of him without him realising. His mind elsewhere. You walked over to him smiling with the photo that was slowly developing and you leaned on the roof of the car and grabbed a pen out of your jacket pocket. “Somewhere in the Nevada Desert – 24/12/84” it read with the heart next to it. Billy looked at you and held out his hand as if he was asking for the camera. You handed it to him feeling slightly confused. “Hood,” He stated not making the confusion go away as he pulled it closed so you could sit on it. “Any damage, you're paying for it,” He helped you climb on which was difficult as your dress didn't allow any room for any serious movement. The moment he put the camera to his face your inner model came out. “Stay there.” He instructed as he went to the car to get more film. When he came back he started to take more photos of you while you more natural. You slid off the hood and walked over to him and rested your chin on his shoulder as you watched the photos develop. It was the natural ones that caught your eye more than anything.

“Not bad Hargrove.” You smiled up at him. Your favourite one was of you laughing and moving your hair out of your face, that was the one you decided you had to keep. Billy kept one of you looking seductive which did not surprise you in the least.

Once you were back in the car and driving you still had your legs hanging out the window. You took a photo of your legs which once the photo had developed you saw that there was cactus in the background as well which made happy. You titled it “Hawkins to LA – 24/12/84”. You looked up at Billy who was focused on the road. “How much longer?” You asked watching him, he looked down at you now focusing on your intently smiling.

“Between 20 minutes and three hours.” He laughed as you took a photo of him. You decided to title it “Between 20 minutes and 3 hours – 24/12/84”.

WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS population 530,000 the sign read as you drove past it. The sun had set and the lights and noise overstimulated the senses. You hung out of the car window taking a photo of the road ahead. You ducked back into the car and named the photo “population 530,000 - 24/12/84” Everything was garish and tacky. You instantly knew why it was called Sin City. You both found a cheap hotel which was just off the strip. The hotel looked like it was the place CEOs took their mistresses when they wanted to hide their affairs. Your room only had a double bed much to your annoyance. The air smelt of the pheromones left behind by the last people. Billy was fearful of what he was going to find in this room and in the bathroom. You felt at ease here. You were getting slightly worried about why you felt so at home in these crappy motels. You dumped your bags down and made your way to the bathroom so you could brush your teeth before you hopped in the shower.

“You ever been to a strip club?” You smiled at Billy leaning against the door frame as you brushed your teeth.

“Why do you ask?” He sounded somewhat defensive. He felt somewhat embarrassed because one thing this road trip had taught him so far was that you were two steps above him when it came to sex and anything debauched. No one had given him a run for his money like you had. As you walked into the bathroom to spit the toothpaste out he followed you and leaned against the door frame himself. He was deep in thought and was also transfixed on your ass.

“Great, neither have I,” You said as you noticed Billy in the mirror staring at your ass. “Oi Hargrove!” You shouted trying to get his attention. “Are you listening or ya too busy staring at my arse.” You realised how much your London accent came out then and it snapped Billy out of his train of thought and made him decide to stand next to you by the sink. He was towering above you and you could smell the cigarettes on him and his lingering cologne. Your breath hitched slightly when you realised how close he was to you.

“It's just too distracting.” He had his charming smile on his face making you push him away playfully.

“Well I'm going for a shower.” You looked up him trying to show that you were not amused, but you felt a smile creep along your face. He took that as his cue to leave.

The shower was hot, this was the first hot shower you had since you had been on this road trip. Midway through shampooing your hair you realised the towels were on the bed. “Fuck,” You muttered to yourself leaning your forehead against the tiled wall which was covered in mildew, immediately washed your face as you remembered how vile the wall was. You could hear the television on in room. “Billy!” You called waiting for an answer. No answer. You decided to finish up quickly. You opened the door which got Billy's attention. “I need a towel.” You sighed poking your head around the door.

“Want it?” Billy smirked at you. “You'll have to come and get it,” He teased. You felt yourself becoming annoyed by this.

“Unless you want me to kill you in your sleep pass me the towel,” You said holding your arm out and as he passed you the towel.

“You wouldn't dare.” He winked at you which made you hit him with the towel.

“Watch me.” You grinned at him as you wrapped yourself up and continued to get ready.

He thought you looked like an angel amongst sinners in your white dress as you danced up the street on the way to the bar. You spun around a lamppost as he took a photo of you and put it in his jeans pocket. You pulled him down a side road to the bar your dad told you about when you spoke to him, he had also given you a strip club recommendation as well which made you laugh. The bar inside was filled with purple neon lights and “fire pits”. You walked over to the bar and looked at the cocktail menu which made Billy laugh because he didn't peg you as cocktail drinker. “What can I get you darling?” The barmaid smiled at Billy who instantly turned on the charm with her.

“What would you recommend doll?” He leaned on the bar smirking. You could feel something brewing in your stomach.

“I am personally a vodka drinker.” The barmaid giggled touching his arm.

“Then I'll have a vodka,” Billy smiled at her before turning back to you who was still looking at the menu.

“I'll have a screaming orgasm.” You said smiling at the barmaid trying to hide your irritation due to Billy's antics.

“If you wanted one of those all you had to do was ask princess.” Billy teased which made you hit him with the menu. You both got up and made your way to a booth with a fire pit waiting for the waitress to bring the drinks over to you. You admired your surroundings, it was just as garish inside as it is outside.

The night went on and you ended up with a tab of $40 worth of drinks at that bar. You grabbed Billy's hand as you left the bar and led him to the strip club. You awere both fuelled with alcohol and as you led him to the club you felt the ground under your feet become no more as he picked you up over his shoulder making you laugh loudly. You were also kicking him to get free as you wanted to be back on solid ground and not facing it.

The strip club was pink and fluffy with a stage in the middle of it with the bar surrounding it. There was a dancer all in leather dancing around a pole and booths against the wall, some with tables and poles coming out of them so the dancers could dance on them. Apart from the dancers you were the only girl there. The rest were men in suits leering at the dancers throwing their money in balls so it could reach the stage. You remembered you were going to give Billy half the money you bought out that night like you agreed, courtesy of your dad and handed it to him before you both ordered your drinks and made yourself comfortable in some seats next to each other. Almost instantly a blonde dancer came over to him and asked if he wanted a lap dance. He accepted and he looked like he was enjoying himself. You enjoyed the show in front of you until a black haired dancer walked over and asked if you wanted one. You nodded. She was beautiful, you weren't sure if you wanted to be her or be on her. After she had finished you offered to buy her a drink which she happily accepted. You found out her name was Sapphire and she had been dancing for six months at this club. You also found out she was studying psychology in California.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” Sapphire asked sipping her drink nodding her head to Billy who was standing behind you talking to the blonde dancer.

“No,” you smiled as you took a sip from your drink. “We're just friends.”

“The way he's staring at you says otherwise,” Sapphire giggled as she looked like she had an idea come over. She asked the barmaid if she had a pen and grabbed your hand and wrote something on it.

“I finish at two.” She smiled as she finished the last of her drink and you looked behind you as she walked off and she started whispering something to the dancer who was talking to Billy and they both walked off. You looked at what she wrote on your hand and it was an address of a bar and the time “2:30am”. Billy walked over to you looking pretty pleased with himself. You finished your drinks and to find your way to the next bar.

The morning after you woke up trying to recall the events of the night before. You felt stirring next to you and you find Sapphire who's name was actually Jessica, the dancer who you found out was called Ana cuddling Sapphire and Billy asleep next to Ana. All of you were still wearing the clothes from the night before. You saw Polaroids scattered on the floor next to your bed and there was one of you in the bathroom of the bar making out with Jessica as you sat on the sink. You realise it was Ana who took this photo. You reached over everyone and grabbed a cigarette packet which were on Billy's side of the bed and lit up a cigarette. You saw another one of you dancing on a table in your lingerie which you don't remember. There was also one of you talking to Ana next to a fire which was at a rooftop bar titled“Feeling At Home and Limitless – 24/12/84” with a small “B” next to it. You let out a small chuckle at this. You felt a stir coming from Billy's side of the bed as he sat up and lit up a cigarette himself.

“Merry Christmas.” You giggled quietly so you didn't wake up the other girls.

“Merry Christmas.” He sighed as he exhaled the smoke smiling at you.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 2 #ST2 #Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Stranger Things Fic #Billy Hargrove Fic #Billy Hargrove x You #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Reader

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msilwrites · 4 years

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Troll (Odd Women Series) - TWO

A/N: So I mentioned earlier that I am tired of women falling for jerks, who destroy them, hurt them, dominate them and all the negative tropes there are, and these women don’t even stand up for themselves. Which is why I wanted to create a series of short stories about female-leads who have self-respect, and who stand up to chauvinist, arrogant, misogynist men.

Also, guys, do you have any situation in a romance book you’ve read that you have hated (you know, with an assholic male lead?!), so I can make a story out of if and so that our Female Lead, Ingrid can ruin it! Please please suggest me some!

You can message me directly or comment and let’s talk about it.

WARNING: It’s not what you think it is...so if it isn’t your cup of tea, there are other stories in tumblr you could enjoy.

Genre: Satire/Humor/ Comedy

Ingrid Hawkes- is an original character

This character was highly inspired by ‘Fleabag’ and ‘Lauren Cooper’s’ wit!

This story is also connected to the previous - INSOLENT (Odd Women Series) - ONE But you may read it on its own, as these are series of one shots.

Troll

“Good Morning, Ingrid!” Bailey, her chaffeur/butler greeted her as she headed to the small driveway of the house.

“Good Morning, Bailey!!” she tried to suppress a yawn because it was unlady like, but it came out nonetheless. “Have you had your breakfast?” she enquired. She had this belief that no one should start their day without eating.

“Yes of course, I had breakfast in the kitchen earlier,” he said as he held the door of the Black Rolls Royce Ghost for her. “How about you? you look tired?” Bailey asked in concern.

Oh... I haven’t had my tea and coffee yet...” she said, showing her freshly brewed coffee inside a small metal container.

As soon as she entered the the Ghost, she immediately poured herself a cup of coffee to give herself a kick in the morning, and sipped it in one go. After that twisted the container cup closed and leaned against the bespoke upholstery of her car.

Understanding his master’s habits, Bailey puts on the calm morning playlist. Classical Music! And in no time, Ingrid fell into her daily pre-office short nap.

**********

Tom’s quick pre-office nap was disturbed by the car suddenly coming to a halt.

“Hey!!” his chauffeur rolled down the window and yelled at the black Rolls Royce who had cut in front of them at the building’s driveway.

The driver of the Rolls Royce apologized by alighting out of the car, and waving and mouthing to them the word ‘Sorry’.

Tom’s chauffeur, Murray, sighs, letting the misdeed go, as he parks the car behind the Rolls-Royce. It was still early in the morning, and it was important to start the day right.

Tom often wondered which building tenant owned the black Rolls-Royce that seemed to send someone to work every morning and pick them up every evening. He never cared before because he had other things to worry about, moreover, he never gets the chance to see the passenger because he would leave immediately before he gets the chance to find out.

He waited inside his car for the passenger of the Rolls-Royce. He was curious who it was as the car is a C-Class and not anyone could just buy it. So his eyes widened in disbelief when the chauffeur of the car in front of them opened the passenger and the most unexpected person alighted out of it. None other than, Ingrid Hawkes.

That rascal can afford a Rolls-Royce and a chauffeur and yet, she can’t pay her meal at the restaurant?!

Tom clenched his fist and gnash his teeth recalling the past incident. His date was ruined, and the woman backed out of their relationship. Moreover, after the date, the waiter had charge him double and informed him that his friends told restaurant staff the he will be paying for their meal.

After the incident, Tom tried to look for Hawkes to confront her and collect whats due. He even tried looking for her in their department’s floor, unfortunately, she couldn’t be found. Either the staff are helping her hide or that woman is a damn ‘Houdini’.

He watched as she alighted out of the car, carrying her usual , shoulder bag, an umbrella like cane and something that looked like a small lunchbox, as if she was going on a field day instead of working.

She walked towards the automatic glass doors of the building, and headed to the lift lobby.

Tom, alighted out of the car and caught up with her to the lift lobby.

Ingrid pressed the close button of the elevator when a hand from the outside, prevents it from doing so. The doors opened in full only to reveal the devil himself, Tom Hiddleston.

“Hello, Hawkes! I finally caught you!” he said sweetly, and his smile looked murderous as Ingrid’s eyes widened in horror.

**********

Ingrid didn’t know how? she always went to work a little early because she had the ability to. Moreover, no one is still around at 8:15 in the morning. Especially Tom, the CEO, who comes at 9:30. What she didn’t expect that the person she had been trying to avoid would be able to catch her off-guard.

She sighed as she entered Tom’s large office, and felt like a student in the headmaster’s office, caught and brought there for disciplinary actions.

“Sit!” Tom says sternly, as he pulled a chair adjacent his large table. Behind his seat is the morning view of London, with the gleaming river Thames. It would have been a spectacular view, if not for the fuming man right in front of her.

She quickly sits down and gets herself ready for confrontation.

“Do you think that was funny, Hawkes?” he began, as he roughly pulls his chair and unbuttons the coat of his suit as he sits down.

“What’s funny? I haven’t even told a joke?” she said innocently, but it irked Tom, this woman’s dry wit was in a whole different level.

“Hawkes! You can afford a Rolls Royce and a chauffeur to drive you and pick you up after work, and yet, you can’t even pay for your meal at the restaurant?!” he exclaimed.

“Oh... that was my morning carpool... you know? carpool sharing with the ride hailing app?” she says, pointing the app on her phone, showing it to Tom as if he was an idiot. Of course, it was a lie. She didn’t want anyone finding out that she has her own chauffeur who takes her to work in a C-Class car. But since she has been caught, she needed an excuse.

“I know what that is! if you can afford the luxury of carpooling in a C-Class car! Then why couldn’t you afford to pay for your meal at the restaurant?!” he sighs, as he slowly loses his cool.

“ Well... carpooling is cheap...” she reasoned. “The fact that I’m ‘carpooling’ is the answer to your question,”

Tom holds up his hand, motioning for her to stop talking. “Enough, I would require you to pay the money that you owe,” he goes straight to the point as talking to a troll like her was pointless.

“Huh? can’t you just let me go, Sir? and just consider this as an act of charity?” Ingrid smiles, blinked her eyes and brought her hands together as if she wanted to pray.

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. He doesn’t need the money at all , but he didn’t like ‘daylight robbery’. Getting outwitted by this troll does not sit well with him and his pride. “Pay it...” he said coldly.

“ But Sir! Isn’t it said that ‘Do good and good will come to you’ !” she reasons.

“Pay it...” Tom repeats, standing his ground.

“ Help thy brother’s boat across and lo! thine own has reached the shore!” the hindu proverb was her next response as she beamed at him.

“Pay it...” Tom repeats himself once again.

“Every charitable act is a stepping stone toward heaven, Don’t you want to go to heaven, Sir?!” she said, sounding like a bible missionary.

“Pay it...” nope, he was not going to lose this.

“Don’t you want to go back, after they threw you out, Sir?”

“After what?!!” his brows furrowed.

“After they threw you out, Sir?” she grinned as she emphasized the last part.

Tom’s eyes widened in disbelief, realizing what Ingrid had been trying to imply. She was implying that he was the fallen angel who became the devil. In fact, she was indirectly calling him the devil!

“Enough!!” he slams the table and Ingrid’s heart almost jumped out. Unfortunately, it didn’t deter her.

“ A man’s true wealth is the good he does in this world...” was the next thing she spewed out.

Tom exhales, his knuckles gripping the sides of his office chair.

“To give happiness to others is a great act of charity sir!” she adds.

“Hawkes... you don’t need charity,” he answers, gritting his teeth.

“But I’m destitute, Sir!” was her quick reply.

“ If you’re so destitute, stop carpooling and take the TUBE! and use the carpooling money of yours to pay me...” he declares.

“But I can’t, Sir!”

“And why can’t you?” he leans back as he looks at her, waiting for the next nonsense that she spews out.

“ Because I have an underlying condition, Sir!” she claims.

“And what underlying condition is that?!”

“Falling asleep on shoulders, I don’t want to go to jail for molests, Sir!” she said pleadingly.

“You’re ridiculous!” he declares, exasperated.

“Thank you, Sir!” was her simple reply.

Tom glares at her as if trying to burn a hole on her head. Having enough of her nonsense, he decides to give her an ultimatum. “Pay it... or I’m sending you to jail. For your information, running away without paying the restaurant and having me pay for your meal is a crime!” Tom excluded the idea of firing her. No, he didn’t really want to fire Ingrid. There was no reason to, as she seemed to be a good worker, her direct supervisor didn’t have anything bad to say about her. Besides, firing her looks like an easy way out for her, and there was no way he was going to let this troll win.

Ingrid sat up straight, and thought for a while. “But I have no money sir...” she reasoned.

“Here we go again...” Tom sighs, as he brings his palm into his head. “Then what do you have? take your wallet out!” he said, pointing to the table.

Ingrid feigns sadness as she took out a small purse. Tom watches her as she puts the wallet on the table and took out its contents one by one. There was 30£ cash, and 5£ worth of coins.

“That’s my lunch and dinner money, Sir...” she said, her face contorting into something like a sad mime.

“Take everything out!” he scolds her, ignoring her plea.

“Oh!” she exclaims, as she takes out her Foodhall Card, “This has 80£!!” she claims.

“Continue!” he said grabbing the card, and pointed to her wallet.

“I have a 20£ gift cheque from Harrods” she adds, showing it to him which he quickly snatched.

“Uhhmmmm...” she continued digging “Does my Nando’s discount voucher count?” she said,taking the voucher out and showing it to him, which he quickly snatched as well and reads it. It was a buy one get one chicken free with a drink. To be sure, he tried to check the expiry date which is a few months from now. He might be wealthy, but it never meant he didn’t like discounts or free things.

“Do you have more of these?” he asked, pertaining to the Nando’s voucher.

“Uhhh... I have burger coupons? and a raffle draw ticket I -” she paused thinking if she should detail about it, but it was too late.

He quickly takes those two from her hands, as she looks down in sadness. Burger discount coupons are useful, as burgers are his guilty pleasures along with Nandos. The raffle draw ticket says that she has won a coffee maker from the Selfridges and is supposed to collect it within the month. He smiled. Despite her nonsensical and troll behaviour, Hawkes appears to be pragmatic, thrifty and loves discounts. And that’s the part Tom got definitely right about her. Oh, he is definitely going to enjoy using her vouchers!

“Anymore?”

She tried to peek through her wallet, and shook her head indicating no, and narrowed her eyes in frustration.

“Hawkes!!” he yelled trying to catch her attention. Not believing her

“This is extortion!!” she accuses him, raising both her hands.

“Hawkes!!” he calls her out.

“I said, there’s no more!” she swears.

“Out with it!!” he demands.

Ingrid sighed, as she reluctantly took out the last thing she had. A card with stamps that were almosts complete, and if she were to complete it, she’ll get a freebie at the store.Tom grabs the card and reads through the instruction at the back.

He nods, and opens his drawer to hide the card. “I think these are more that enough...” he says, crossing his arms, and leaning against his chair. It was definitely more than enough, especially with the coffee maker she won at a raffle draw. “I hope that you have learned something out of this...” he says sternly. That should teach her a lesson not to mess with him.

“Would you pass me back the change, Sir?” she asked.

“What?!”

“The change, sir?” she repeats.

“Why should I give you a change?!”

“But you said it was more than enough, so would you give me the change back?” she implores, putting her hands together as if she was praying. “ We can check the amount of the stuff I gave you, and deduct the extra--”

“No!” was his quick answer. “I thought you would have learned your lesson!”

“Of course, Sir, I have learned my lesson...” she says meekly.

Tom nodded and was about to dismiss her until.

“That you’re a loan shark, Sir! ” she continued.

“A what?!!” he said in disbelief.

“I learned that you’re a loan shark, Sir,” she repeats.

“GET OUT!!” he shouts as he points to the door of his office, obviously wanting her to get out of his office.

“But I haven’t gotten my change, Sir!” she adds.

“I SAID OUT!!” he repeats not wanting any more of this repetitive nonsensical conversation with this troll.

“ Oh, alright, about that, can you give me a ride home? My curfew is 9am” she grins.

“OUT!!” he shouts louder this time, really pissed off with how shameless and thick-skinned this woman is.

“On this day, the lord has sent down his decree, ‘get out’ he commanded and out we shall get,” she says and bows before him, as if she was the queen and then quickly runs out of the door before Tom can say anything.

The Next Part of this story is here; A Bitter Pill (To Swallow) ( Odd Women Series) - THREE

A/N: I will be editing this because I probably have made a number of grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed the story. FYI. It will be a series of one shots.

Also, guys, do you have any situation in a romance book you’ve read that you have hated (you know, with an assholic male lead?!), so I can make a story out of if and so that our female lead, Ingrid can ruin it! Please please suggest me some! They are welcome!

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