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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

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Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 13 - Enchanted

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

Walls of insincerity

Shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when I saw your face

On the drive back from the cottage, Joyce stares out the window at the passing countryside and sighs. “Do we have to go back?”

“I thought you were looking forward to starting your new job?” Hopper smiles.

“I am. But…”

“One more year Joyce, then we’re outta here!”

“Yeah?” she states softly, eyes still glued on the passing greenery.

“Yeah. The moment we cross that stage and grab our diploma’s we’ll hop in the car and drive down to the California coast. You can study art at some big fancy school and we can get a house with a view of the ocean.”

“Did you win the lottery and forget to tell me about it?’ she chuckles.

‘I’ve been saving. Besides, with my scholarship money, we’re set.”

“Maybe I should get a job that pays more than the library,” she muses out loud.

“Absolutely not. You were so excited when they offered you that job. Besides, I’m excited to come and visit you at work.”

“You plan on checking out books?”

“I plan on checking you out,” he smirks.

Joyce laughs softly and continues to gaze at the passing land. One more year.

Semi-buried beneath her covers, Joyce pinches her eyes shut as the sound of her parents' voices fill the house. They’d been arguing for well over an hour. About what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she refused to leave her room and get involved.

She finds herself watching the dust dance in the sunlight streaming in through the window. The sun was just beginning to set, painting her walls in a pale shade of yellow that provided her with a strange sense of comfort. Watching the dust flit across the empty space in front of her, she thinks that a life lived in warm yellows must be one of comfort. California would be yellow.

Joyce closes her eyes and dreams of salty air and a house by the sea. She can see it all so clearly. A lone chair sitting near the window bay, the sandy shore stretching out in front of the glass pane, the sun warming up the room and washing over her face, a familiar sense of comfort becomes her.

She’s reading, as she so often does on Sunday evenings. With her book in her lap and a warm cup of tea on the table next to her, she looks around the living room of the house she and Hopper so effortlessly decorated and smiles. A few of her paintings are hung on the wall, something Hopper insisted on doing the moment they were dry. Next to them, his record collection and a few cookbooks. She can hear him in the kitchen, clanging pots and pans as he prepares their meal.

This was their Sunday routine. She would read silently in her corner of the world while Hopper scurried around and made them dinner. Sometimes, no words were exchanged. They moved in tandem, slowly enjoying all that their lives together had to offer and for a brief moment, the world stood still. She never craved the business that came with Friday night football or the weekly grocery trip they took to the market on Saturdays, but she craved the way the world stood still for them on Sunday.

Life was simpler here. People were kind and welcoming. She didn’t have to fall asleep to the sound of her parents fighting, or prove herself to girls she didn’t care about.

She and Hopper had built an entire life for themselves and it was more than she ever could have imagined for herself.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she stares out at the sandy shore and the sunny sky and draws in a deep breath before going to join Hopper for dinner.

The sound of something shattering breaks Joyce out of her daydream. Sadly, she takes in the bland walls of her bedroom and lets herself cry. She cries until she falls asleep, telling herself that she only has one year to go.

Across town, Hopper is working out in the yard when he hears his parents arguing about something through the open kitchen window. He places his weights down on the grass and approaches the window, where it becomes clear that his parents are arguing about the letter he recently received in the mail.

His father had been so proud the day Hopper returned home from the cottage, hoisting the letter into his arms and exclaiming that it was time to serve his country. Hopper, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling in his gut since the moment he was handed that envelope.

He knew he couldn’t not go. He’d been called to serve, much like a handful of his classmates, but the thought of leaving Joyce was killing him. Even thinking about telling her about the letter made him feel sick.

He’d been doing his best to forget about it for the past two days. Senior year started the next day and he would much rather be focused on the football season and his girlfriend.

From inside the kitchen, he can hear his mother explain to his father that he shouldn’t put so much pressure on him about going. He listens as she explains that she knows he’ll have to go and only returns to his workout when he can hear his mother begin crying.

He just wasn’t going to think about it.

Deployment was months away.

For now, he was going to focus on starting his senior year and pretend that the life he and Joyce planned didn’t seem light-years away.

After his workout, Hopper devours a bowl of cereal and stands next to the sink while waiting for his water bottle to fill. The phone rings next to him and he reaches for it with a mouth full of corn flakes on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Joyce’s voice rings through the receiver.

“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s up?”

“I was just thinking about you,” she informs him.

“Oh? What about me?”

“I can’t wait for us to get the hell out of here.”

His heart sinks and he stutters. He could tell her about the letter, but he doesn’t want to hurt her. Just picturing her shattered expression makes his stomach sink and instead he replies, “me too.”

“I just called to tell you that. And to tell you that I don’t need a ride tomorrow,” she says.

“You sure? I can pick you up before practice.”

“It’s alright. It’s our last first day and I want to walk.”

“Can I still drive you home?”

“Only if we can stop for shakes.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Horowitz.”

“See you tomorrow?” she asks.

“See you tomorrow.”

Hanging up the phone, Hopper drops his head to his hands and exhales. He had to tell her about the letter. He couldn’t let her go on planning their future together knowing he was going to be the one to rip the plans away. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, a lose-lose situation.

If he told her, he would break her heart. If he waited to tell her, he would break it more.

The first day back as seniors, Joyce faces a few stares from classmates and freshmen, all likely wondering why someone like Hopper was interested in someone like her. With Chrissy and her minions having graduated, Joyce faced a lot less hazing. Sure, a few of the cheerleaders in her class made faces at her when she passed them in the halls, but most of their gossiping was harmless and she was so genuinely happy with Hopper that she didn’t listen to any of it.

True to his word, Hopper takes her to the diner after school for milkshakes and it becomes their Monday ritual. Joyce would work in the library until football practice ended and then she and Hopper would end up at the diner, splitting a chocolate shake.

She attended every one of his games that fall. Sitting on the bleachers with the rest of the fans, and occasionally his parents, she slowly learned the rules of the game and grew not to hate football. Her favourite games were the ones his father attended because he would explain the plays to her as the game went on and she didn’t have to worry about making small talk with classmates she only saw at the games.

Two months into senior year, Hopper and Joyce had become the couple to envy. They walked down the halls arm in arm and nearly every freshman girl swooned over Hopper.

They were inseparable. He sat at a library table and did his homework while Joyce worked. She smoked on the bleachers while she waited for him at football practice.

Their weekends were filled with nights at the drive-in and once the weather began to cool, they spent nights watching movies in the Hopper’s living room. They spent time with Benny and Helen and soon enough Joyce and Helen became actual friends.

Hopper noticed Joyce was spending less time at home but didn't press her to tell him why. Instead, one night while walking home from a small party at Lover’s Lake, he listens intently as she tells him that her mom hadn’t returned from her latest business trip (one she’d taken a month prior). Hopper listened as she spoke and offered to help in any way he could.

That night after returning home he asked his parents how they would feel about Joyce occasionally spending the night. After hearing more about her situation at home, they agreed as long as Jim’s bedroom door remained open and he was respectful of the house rules. He informed Joyce the next day that she was welcome to spend the night whenever she felt uncomfortable at home and though she was initially mad at him for involving his parents, she eventually admitted she was grateful.

Three months into senior year Joyce spends her first night at his house. They don’t do anything wild, just do some homework and read side by side before bed, but it feels strangely intimate to her.

She doesn’t make spending the night a habit, but on a handful of occasions she finds herself tucked in next to Hopper, wearing one of his flannel shirts.

He’d yet to tell her about his letter because how could he be the one to burst her bubble.

When December rolls around, he asks Joyce if she wants to go to senior prom with him. Initially reluctant to attend another prom, Joyce tells him she’ll think about it. Helen eventually convinces her that she has to join them at prom or it “just won’t be the same” and Hopper tells Joyce that he’ll buy them tickets.

That Tuesday morning, Joyce is lingering near the ticket table waiting for a teacher to unlock the art room so she can grab the notebook she’d left behind the day before. A girl in her class, Clara, spots her and marches over with a fake smile. Clara was tall, blonde, and this year's head cheerleader. She’d never spoken a single word to Joyce, though Joyce always saw her at football games and knew she and her friends often gossiped about her. She hated girls like Clara, who reminded her of Chrissy. Tall, blonde, beautiful and extremely cruel.

“Isn’t Jim buying you tickets?” the tall blonde snarls.

“Why do you care?”

“I didn’t think prom was really your scene.”

“It isn’t. It’s full of mindless idiots. You’re going, right?” Joyce smirks.

“Ugh, whatever. I was just going to tell you that if you don’t go, you should keep an eye on Jim. He’s a hot commodity and someone might just try and snatch him up.”

“Are you threatening me?” Joyce steps towards the girl, who immediately shrinks and steps back.

“Just thought I’d be nice and give you a heads up,” Clara smiles wickedly.

“How kind.” Joyce rolls her eyes, stuffs her hands in her pockets and marches towards her next class.

Girls like Clara and Chrissy were always trying to get under her skin and she’d decided long ago that she wasn’t going to let them. Why then, did she find herself chomping down on the inside of her cheek as she took her seat, fists clenched at her sides? She knew Clara was only trying to get a rise out of her, but for some odd reason, her insult played on a loop in the back of Joyce’s mind. She knew that Hopper wouldn’t care if she didn’t want to go to prom. She also knew that he would never stand by and let another girl flirt with him; she had his heart and that she was certain of. What bothered her was the subconscious thought that kept her awake some nights; Were girls like Chrissy and Clara always going to make her feel like she wasn’t enough for Hopper?

After school that afternoon, Hopper excitedly flashes two prom tickets at Joyce before unlocking the car.

“Got them!”

Unsure of what to say, Joyce wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat and kicks at her book bag.

“Joyce?” he looks over at her with concern, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “everything’s fine.”

“You still want to go to prom, right? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No no. I’ll go. It’s just…”

“Can I promise you something before you continue that sentence?”

Joyce nods.

“This isn’t going to be like all the other proms. I know dances aren’t really your thing but I promise you that this one is going to be different.”

“I don’t know Hop, it’s still a dance.”

“I know it is. But it’s me and you. And if you’d like it can be just us two.”

“Just us two?”

“Just us two. We can pretend like no one else is there. How does that sound? We go together, you let me steal a dance or two and then if it’s horrible we can leave.”

“Hmmm,” Joyce contemplates out loud. “Aright, fine. I’m wearing sneakers with my dress,” she informs him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles.

“And when it’s terrible, we’re leaving.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal Horowitz.”

“Can we swing by the diner for a milkshake?” she asks.

“Of course.”

Joyce decides to forget about what Clara said that morning. She trusts Hopper means it when he says they can leave the dance if she’s not having a good time. Besides, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to have him hold her in his arms while they danced. It was her one regret from the previous dance she’d gone to; not getting to dance with him.

January 13th was senior prom night at Hawkins High. Hopper nervously fiddles with the buttons on his jacket while he paces the length of Joyce’s porch. He told her he would pick her up at 8 o’clock sharp and it was now 8:07 and he’d get to see her.

When he rang the bell, knowing her parents were both away for the week, she yelled back telling him she’d be ready in a few minutes.

Instead of wearing down the soles of his dress shoes, Hopper takes a seat on the edge of Joyce’s porch and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it, takes a long drag and exhales a deep breath.

He was going to make tonight perfect for her. With his deployment date looming closer and their senior year passing quicker than expected, he knew he wanted to remember this night with Joyce forever.

The door opens behind him, bathing the porch in dim yellow lighting and the floorboards creak as Joyce steps towards him.

“Ta-da,” she laughs, holding out her arms to show off her dress. It was a deep red colour, the top hugging her chest tightly while the skirt floated it just below her knees. Not at all what he expected her to wear.

Hopper turns to face her with a smile and takes in the way her curly hair hangs over her shoulders. She shyly smiles back at him and decides to twirl around and show off her dress (and her converse).

“You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she grins. “I didn’t choose the dress, Helen did.”

“You’d look beautiful in anything.”

“Sap,” she laughs, smacking his arm. “Should we get going and get this over with?”

“First,” Hopper scrambles, nervously reaching into his back pocket, “this is for you.” He hands her a small white flower with a silver wristband.

Joyce reaches out and runs her fingers delicately over the edges of the petals. “Hop.”

“I know it’s lame but I just thought…”

“It’s beautiful,” she smiles.

She extends her wrist in his direction and cocks her head. “Will you put it on?”

He nods and slips the flower on her wrist.

“There. Now we’re ready to go.”

“Actually, I have something too.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small silver flask. “To make the night tolerable.”

“You’re wild, Horowitz,” he shakes his head and takes a sip from the flask. He coughs immediately, “Jesus, what is that?”

“Don't question it, just close your eyes and drink.”

“Shall we?” he asks, extending his arm in her direction.

“We shall,” she giggles, looping her arm through his.

Halfway to the school, Hopper notices Joyce fiddling with her thumbs and reaches over to take one of her hands.

“Hey,” he says softly, “this is going to be fun. Just me and you.”

They drink the contents of her flask in the parking lot before entering the dance and giggling as they make their way into the already crowded gymnasium.

Outside the entrance a tower of balloons welcomes them. The gymnasium is covered in green and white streamers and the dance floor, located in front of the bleachers, is covered in confetti.

“Joyce!” Helen exclaims when she spots her. She rushes over, dragging Benny behind her.

“You guys made it!” she adds.

Hopper and Benny high five and Joyce compliments Helen’s hair which is piled high in her head in a lump of curls.

Joyce looks around the dance and lets out the breath she’d been holding. It wasn’t that bad. The foursome makes their way over to the punch bowl and helps themselves to glasses that are more alcohol than a punch.

A jazz song begins playing and Helen squeals and grabs Benny’s hand. “Let’s gooooo! I love this song.”

She drags him off towards the dance floor, leaving Joyce and Hopper alone next to the punch table.

“Whatcha thinking?” Hopper asks Joyce.

“That if you’d told me during junior year I’d be at senior prom with my best friend I would have thought you were crazy.”

“Joyce, we’re at senior prom together. Still think I’m crazy?”

“Of course you are. You’re dating me.”

“The only kind of crazy that makes me is crazy for you.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at his comment but allows him to snake an arm around her waist and pull her closer.

“You wanna dance?”

“I’m fine here.”

“Come on,” he smirks, taking her hand and tugging her towards the dance floor.

She notices a few of the cheerleaders in her class staring as Hopper leads them to the dance floor and does her best to ignore them. They were just jealous because they would never understand what she and Hopper had. She was beginning to believe that no one would ever understand their connection. It ran deeper than even she knew how to describe, a thought that terrified and thrilled her all at once.

Lucille begins playing as they reach the center of the dance floor. Surrounded by her classmates, Joyce awkwardly sways next to Hopper. He reaches out and squeezes her hand, silently telling her to let go. And she does.

She lets him twirl her inwards and outwards again, laughing as he awkwardly attempts to dip her but fails. The two of them jump and spin and scream along with the song until they’re breathless and in each other’s arms. When the music stops, Joyce leads Hopper away from all the commotion and they take a seat on the bleachers.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks.

“It might have been fun.”

“Alright everyone, it’s time to announce our prom king and queen!”

The announcement echoes through the gymnasium and kids begin to gather in front of the small platform acting as a stage. On it, the class president Veronica stands with the microphone in hand.

Joyce winces and leans against Hopper. She hated popularity contests. It was something she’d battled with all of high school since her best friend was popular and she wasn’t. Now that they were dating things only seemed to get worse. Popularity was a black and white concept at Hawkins High. Hopper was popular, she was not. The girls in her class went out of their way to make sure she didn’t forget it.

She grips Hopper’s arm and watches him watching the stage. He looks down at her and offers her a reassuring smile.

“We had an overwhelming amount of votes this year, and I am happy to announce that our prom king and queen for this year are Clara Samuels and Jim Hopper!!”

Joyce feels like the wind has been knocked out of her when Hopper’s name is announced. Hopper looks stunned but before he can react a group of guys are chanting his name and leading him through the crowd towards the stage. Clara is already front and center, waving in her tiara and sash when he reaches the stage. Veronica has him lean down so she can place a gold crown on his head. He looks for Joyce and locks eyes with her, trying his best to convey an apology.

Joyce folds her arms over her chest and watches as Clara and Hopper are instructed to dance under a spotlight in the middle of the dance floor.

Helen comes up on her left and softly whispers, “you good?”

“Yup,” Joyce responds, popping the “p.”

Hesitantly, Hopper puts his hands on Clara’s hips and they begin to move to the music. He looks uncomfortable while Clara has a smug grin on her face. When her eyes meet Joyce’s from behind Hopper’s shoulder, she smiles and pulls Hopper closer. That’s all Joyce needs to make a beeline for the exit. She can hear the music begin to fade as she marches out into the parking lot, but she doesn’t dare look back.

She reaches Hop’s car in a haste and frustratedly digs around in her bag for a cigarette. Lighting it, she leans back against the car and inhales. She can tell that the music inside the gym has become quick-paced again and wonders how long the king and queen dance actually lasted.

Of course, Clara would be voted the prom queen. It was always going to be girls like Chrissy constantly reminding her that she didn’t belong with Hopper because she wasn’t his traditional type. She knew none of it mattered to Hopper. It shouldn’t matter to her either. Joyce closes her eyes and focuses her energy on her cigarette.

“I thought I might find you here,” Hopper’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Shouldn’t you be taking Royal photos?” Her words come out harsher than intended.

“Nah, one dance was enough. I bet it was a joke that I was even nominated.”

“That crown looks good on you,” she compliments, attempting to cut some of the tension.

He lifts it off his head and places it on hers. “Looks better on you.”

She attempts to remove it but he places a hand in hers and holds it in place. “It’s yours now.”

“I’m not wearing your crown.”

“Please.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll always be my prom queen.”

She blushes and looks down at her shoes. He lights his own cigarette and leans on the car next to her.

“You genuinely believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I love you, Joyce.”

She rocks forward on her toes, plants a hand on his chest and kisses him.

From inside the gymnasium, the soft sounds of a slow song spill out into the parking lot.

“Can I have this dance?” Hopper asks, extending one hand to her.

“Out here?”

“Why not?” he shrugs.

Joyce takes his hand and lets him pull her into his chest. He wraps both hands around her waist and she rests her head beneath his chin.

The crown he placed on her head brushes against his cheek and he smiles.

They dance in silence for a few moments, gravitating towards one another as they move.

“This is exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to the dance,” he whispers.

“It is?”

“It is. Not to sound like a broken record but, I love you, Joyce.”

Looking up into his blue eyes, she feels her heart lurch and she knows that he’s the real thing. He didn’t care about what anyone thought. He saw things the way she did; it was the two of them against the world, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She pulls her gaze away from his and bites on her lower lip, an unfamiliar sensation overcoming her.

“Hop,” she whispers. His hands flatten against her back and he stills them from swaying.

“I - “ she stutters. Looking up, she locks eyes with him and a calm washes over her entire body.

“I love you too.”

A smile settles over Hopper’s face and he leans down to kiss her. On the outside, he allows his facial features to soften and his shoulders to relax, demonstrating to Joyce how much her words mean to him. On the inside, however, he’s a mess. How was he supposed to tell her he was leaving now?

The lingering question kept me up

Two a.m., who do you love?

#stranger things #jopper #AU #multichapter #stranger things 4 #joyce byers #jim hopper #highschool au

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

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For Your Eyes Only-- bodyguard!ashton [Chapter 12+Epilogue]

I can’t believe the end has finally come. I first posted this story on December 15, 2019 and was the first chaptered fic I posted (and now completed.) Thank you to those who have read and kept up with this story. It’s very near and dear to my heart. I’m sad that it’s ending but I’m so, so happy with it. Thank you again for loving Ashton and Alouette with me as I made my own fairytale💕💖

Word Count: 4582

Warnings: mild smut near the middle

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2 || Chap. 3 || Chap. 4 || Chap. 5 || Chap. 6 || Chap. 7 || Chap. 8 || Chap. 9 || Chap. 10 || Chap. 11

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. *copyright listed below*

• • • •

The palace has been abuzz with excitement and planning once again as Alouette’s coronation is approaching only a few days away. Queen Helene arrived a week ago to go over the plans for the ceremony. Every day has been filled with meetings on final decisions for the flowers, dress fittings and any other last-minute preparations.

Alouette is eating lunch while reviewing the itinerary of coronation day when there was a soft knock.

“Come in,” she says distantly.

“Is that how you greet your best friend?”

Alouette jumps out of her chair at the sound of Neva’s voice and races to hug her tightly, both squeal in delight at being in each other’s presence again. Neva’s birthday seems so long ago and with everything that happened since then, Alouette couldn’t be happier.

“I didn’t know you were coming today!” Alouette exclaims, still hugging her close.

“Ashton arranged it,” Neva laughs and draws back so she can inspect her best friend. “How are you mi alondra?” (my lark)

“I’m good,” Alouette nods with a small smile. She drops her hands to Neva’s, squeezing tightly. “A little nervous about the coronation but I promise, I’m okay.”

“Good. Two things, I need to see this ring!” Neva lifts Alouette’s left hand and ogles at the sparkling diamond that fits so perfectly on her finger. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. Ashton did well. And secondly, I need you to tell me everything there is to know about you and Ashton. How did this all start? When was your first kiss? How did he propose? Tell me all.”

Alouette informed Neva of everything that has happened over a whole pot of tea. She first began with her kidnapping and how she had the thought of Ashton that kept her alive. Neva held her hand the whole time she discussed what happened to her. Aside from Ashton, Neva is her closest friend who she tells everything to.

Her favorite parts were telling Neva about the best moments she and Ashton have had.

“I wish I could have been here for you too,” Neva tells her sadly, tears in her eyes. “My manager wouldn’t let me take time off, no matter how many fits I threw.”

“It’s all right, I had Ashton to take care of me,” Alouette smiles, “and besides, you’re here now for one of the most important days of my life. Apart from my wedding.”

They talked for hours until Ashton came in the room stopping their discussion.

“Hello, Neva,” Ashton smiles standing next to Alouette’s chair.

“Hi security man,” she grins. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thank you,” his smile remains then touches Alouette’s cheek with his fingers to get her attention. Her blue eyes meet his. “It’s time for your dress fitting.”

“Not your wedding dress fitting, right?! I wanted to go shopping with you,” Neva frowns.

“No, it’s for my coronation dress,” Alouette answers with a soft chuckle. “We haven’t even picked a date yet, with what’s going on in preparation lately.”

“Good, because I am going to make sure your bachelorette party is to die for!”

Ashton exhales loudly at her choice of her words.

“You know what I mean,” Neva recovers innocently at Ashton. She smiles and bats her eyes for good measure.

Alouette laughs then takes Ashton’s hand rising from the chair. “I’ll see you later for dinner, Neve.”

“Bye lovebirds!” she calls behind them.

Alouette slips her hand in Ashton’s easily, since their engagement she’s been loving how open they can be with their affections towards each other. The best part is no one looks at them strangely because of it. Ashton gives her hand a gentle squeeze as they reach the staircase to the third floor.

Her heels and his boots clack on the tile as they ascend, the stairway is quiet and Alouette senses something is on his mind.

“Are you okay?” she asks, giving his hand a gentle pull. He sighs in response.

“Are you sure you want me to be a knight?”

Alouette halts on her step and Ashton stops on the one below her, his hazel eyes stare into hers and she can see the doubt in them.

“Of course, I do. You have all the qualifications, you deserve this honor, Ashton, especially after what you’ve all done for me. Loving me aside,” she adds to lighten the mood, but he still has a crease between his brows.

“I don’t know a thing about being a royal. What if we’re at an important dinner and I use the wrong fork? I could jeopardize something very import--”

Alouette stops his rambling by grabbing his cheeks and pressing her mouth against his. He responds enthusiastically, his hands grip her waist and she pulls away. Ashton chases her lips for more, but she strokes his cheek with her thumbs.

“Whatever silverware you use isn’t going to be a problem. You aren’t going to jeopardize anything, and I’ll be by your side the whole time, okay? We’re in this together,” she gives him one more soft peck and they continue their ascent to her dress fitting.

•••••

It’s the morning of her coronation and Alouette is woken in the best way possible. Ashton sprinkles the skin of her shoulder that’s exposed from her baggy night shirt with kisses. He makes a trail from below her ear along the curve of her neck to the tip of her shoulder. It’s the spike of her goosebumps that wakes her, a smile already on her lips.

While Ashton’s lips move back up to her ear, his hand is slipping beneath her night shirt, his skin hot on her belly while his fingers tickle up to her breasts. He kneads her flesh tenderly, but the action elicits a small moan from her lips. A sound that Ashton will always fall in love with as if it were their first time.

Alouette twists around capturing his lips in a feverish kiss. They both make quick work of removing his boxers and her panties, both craving the closeness the other can satisfy. Ashton swipes his middle finger up her slit and she gasps into his mouth. With his finger still teasing her, he works his mouth down her body using his other hand to push up her shirt.

Ashton licks the underside of her breast, loving the soft moans she makes as he continues lower and lower. Alouette spreads her legs open, her body flinching when Ashton presses the pad of his finger against her clit and her moan has increased in volume.

“Shh, my lady,” he hushes dragging his lips over her core. “Can’t have you waking the whole palace.”

“I—ohh!” She moans long and slow when he inserts his finger and kisses her clit.

Ashton is every form of gentle, pulling and curling his finger in and out of her just as her moans are soft in response. He licks at her in a savory manner, his tongue rolling and flicking over her bud. He hums against her when she places her fingers in his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. Her back arches and her toes curl when her body heat rises, and Ashton quickens his actions.

He knows she’s close, so he removes his mouth so he can quiet her moan with a kiss while his fingers continue to work her over. She’s bucking her hips against his palm.

“Please, please,” she whimpers around his mouth. “Need you.”

She fumbles in the drawer of her nightstand for a condom and rips it open hastily while Ashton kisses her neck. She rolls it over him delicately and Ashton removes his finger grabbing hold of himself. He pushes against her entrance before sinking in inch by inch. Alouette drags his mouth back to hers as they both moan in pleasure. Their bodies roll together as he pumps into her with desire, their fingers interlocking and breaths turning ragged.

For a moment, she forgets that she is to be Queen in a few short hours and that every eye will be on her. For this moment, it’s just Alouette and Ashton, two people desperately in love. She sighs his name and he breathes her in as they come together, a true force to be reckoned with.

“I have something for you,” he kisses her cheek after they’ve caught their breath and he slips out of bed. She watches him pull out a box from his trousers that are thrown over the chair at the foot of her bed and he sits next to her again. “Happy coronation day.”

Alouette sits up and opens the box, gasping when she sees what’s inside. Perched in the center sat a swan pin made completely out of diamonds. She gasps.

“Ashton, it’s beautiful!” her fingers trace over the small diamonds faceted along the slender neck, then she glances up at him, “you need to stop spoiling me with gifts.”

“I’ll be your husband soon, it’s part of my husbandry duties,” he grins, and she pokes his dimple.

“Then I shall spoil you with gifts!” she giggles and falls on top of him.

He holds her fingers to his cheek so he can kiss her palm. “You already spoil me, Alouette,” he says.

His hands then roam over her bare back under the shirt and he feels her scars. He pulls her closer just as there’s a knock on the door.

“Miss Alouette! It is time to get ready!” Rosa calls from the outside of the door.

“Just a minute, Rosa!” Alouette calls and gives Ashton a kiss. “I’ll wear this pin today, thank you, I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” he hums, and they clamber out of bed.

They dress quickly and when Alouette is in her robe, Ashton opens the door. Rosa and Alouette’s other maids’ bustle in with her dress that’s secure in the white bag. No one has seen it except the designer and her ladies. Ashton tries to sneak a peek when a make-up team comes in and hair stylists.

“Calum, Michael and Luke are waiting for you downstairs,” Sydney tells Ashton. She’s always on top of keeping everything in order and on a timely fashion.

“I’ll see you soon,” Alouette smiles at him.

Before he can be shooed out by Sydney, he sneaks a quick kiss to Alouette’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she giggles, he pinches her cheek lightly and leaves the room.

Alouette listens to Sydney rattle off the time slots, where and when to enter the hall and reiterates part of the oath that will be spoken. Alouette listens while keeping her gaze on her eyes in the mirror while her hair and make-up is being done.

Her stylists twist her hair into an elegant chignon so that the Regent’s Crown will fit perfectly atop her head. All her ladies help her into the dress. It’s blush pink in color with lace appliques and a cape that can be added near the back at the center of her lower back. Her jewelry is added last, simple pearl earrings and a diamond necklace.

Rosa places the swan pendant Ashton gifted her with and took her hand, tears in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you, my lady,” Rosa smiles.

“Thank you, Rosa. Thank you for everything,” Alouette squeezes her hands and gives her a tight hug.

“Princess,” Sydney says, “it’s time.”

•••••

Alouette stands outside the large oak doors while the small orchestra in the balcony plays a beautiful ballad and then the doors open and she’s walking gracefully down the aisle. Her guests, Princes and Princesses, Kings and Queens, other dignitaries, friends, family, and some of her people stand on either side of her.

She passes the television crews that are all along the back of the hall. Reporters are writing furiously in their pads; everyone is at apt attention.

Alouette has been trained not to look at their faces, to keep her face forward to where the Archbishop Belisario is standing with the orb and sceptre that she will be holding. She keeps count of her breathing, feeling very aware that all eyes are on her but when she spots Ashton off to the side near the front, and their eyes meet, she instantly relaxes.

Queen Helene is already sitting in her respective throne off to the left, when she catches the eye of her granddaughter, she winks and smiles proudly.

As she walks by the guests, she hears them whisper quietly to one another as she passes because of the back of her dress. One request she had was that the back would be see through, so that her scars would be seen. She wanted to show her people that as Queen, she is fierce and tenacious. She lifts the skirt of her dress when she reaches the four steps and rises carefully to the throne.

Alouette twirls around so she’s facing the congregation and Archbishop Belisario comes to stand next to her just as the music fades away and she takes her seat on the throne. The seat is plush and soft beneath her and the Archbishop speaks his prayer over her.

“Welcome all to the coronation of Princess Alouette. I give thee, the orb of Peace and the sceptre of Longevity,” Archbishop Belisario hands each item to Alouette.

She holds them proudly, the weight is heavy, but she keeps her composure, chin held high.

“Madam, is your Majesty willing to take the Oath?”

“I am willing,” Alouette answers proudly. She keeps her gaze focused on the stained-glass panes near the back of the hall. It’s an array of colors with the center of it being a large tree with plenty of green leaves.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Chadria, according to the statutes in parliament agreed upon, and the respective laws and customs of the same?”

“I solemnly promise so to do.”

“Will you, in your power, cause law and justice and mercy to be executed in all judgments?”

“I solemnly promise so to do.”

The Archbishop removes the crown from Queen Helene who has risen from her chair and he places it atop Alouette’s head. The weight is lighter than that of the orb and sceptre, but she feels the weight, nonetheless. It holds the weight of her power, of her reign over her beautiful country. Alouette stands, wearing it proudly as the ceremony comes to a close.

This is the big moment as she takes her first step forward to declare the last part of her Oath now as Queen. She clears her throat softly and shifts her focus from the stained-glass window to her people.

“The things which I have promised, I will perform and keep. So, help me, God,” she speaks with authority and her voice doesn’t waiver. She takes one step forward.

“Presenting, Her Majesty, Alouette Jolene Iduna; Queen of Chadria,” Archbishop Belisario concludes and the hall erupts in cheers and applause.

Alouette smiles proudly, eyes gazing over the people in front of her, her people. She sneaks a glance to her left where Ashton is clapping proudly as well, a large smile on his face. The Archbishop takes the orb and sceptre from her so she can take her first walk as Queen. Her grandmother approaches next, kisses her cheek and then Alouette descends the stairs once more. The orchestra plays Chadria’s anthem and this time, as she passes, the people bow or curtsy to her and the doors open once more as flashes from cameras announce her exit.

•••••

Three days after Alouette’s coronation is Ashton’s knighting ceremony, her first act as Queen. In those three days she has aided Ashton in the ceremony and has had a white suit made for him to wear. It will be broadcasted just as her coronation was. Guests filled the seats with Luke, Calum and Michael sitting in the pews off to the right, they sat in the same spot for Alouette’s ceremony.

The Herald stands at the podium waiting for the time to start and he clears his throat into the microphone. The room falls silent and Alouette squeezes Ashton’s hand in assurance as the Herald begins. Next to the Herald on plush red velvet pillows are the Knight’s chain, the Sword of Nobility, the white belt of Chivalry, and the sword Ashton will be presented with as his own.

Victor, who is also a knight, stands near the objects with a page boy to help hand off each one as the ceremony commences.

“In days gone by, there have existed many orders of knighthood which recognized the skill and honor of their members. From the knights of the round table to present day, it is in their duty of service and of the noble ideals of chivalry embodied by their Queen, did these orders achieve this highest rank. Members of this Order of Chivalry are mighty warriors, but also were skilled in the arts and have given their time to the benefit of the common weal.

“As such, they have been recognized as Peers of the land. Our Majesty the Queen will now begin the knighthood. The Crown calls forth Ashton Fletcher Irwin to come before the Court and company here today.”

Ashton and Alouette stand, they step forth in front of the podium and Ashton kneels before her, his hands clasped together in front of him. When he looks up at her, she smiles radiantly at him and he can’t help but smile back.

“Ashton Irwin, have you undertaken to accept the accolade of Knighthood that has been offered to you?” she asks, her voice echoes throughout the room.

“I have,” he responds.

The Herald holds the chain above his head to showcase it to the crowd and Victor steps forth.

“This chain has been passed from knight to knight throughout the ages of our kingdom. Let it now pass from knight to knight again,” the Herald says and hands it to Victor who holds it tenderly between his fingers. “Bring forth the great Sword of Nobility.” The Herald is handed the sword from the page boy.

He presents it to Alouette who accepts it delicately in her hands, letting the tip of the sword hang a centimeter above the floor.

“Ashton Irwin,” she begins, eyes on him, “you have been deemed fit for this high estate by your peers and have indicated your willingness to accept this honor from my hand. Do you solemnly swear by all that you hold sacred, true and just, that you will honor and defend the Crown and Kingdom of Chadria?”

“I will.”

“That you will honor, defend, and protect all ladies, and those weaker than yourself?”

“I will.”

“That you will be courteous, honorable and loyal of the Chivalry?”

“I will.”

“That you will be charitable and defend the poor and helpless, that you will be brave and never avoid dangerous paths out of fear?”

“I will.”

Alouette lifts the sword, the tip hanging precariously over his right shoulder. “Then having sworn these solemn oaths, know now that I, Queen Alouette Jolene Iduna of Chadria dub you with this Sword of Nobility and by all that you hold sacred, true, and just . . . Once for honor—” she touches his shoulder with the blade then moves back and forth on each shoulder each time “—Twice for Duty . . . Thrice for Chivalry. . . Arise, Sir Ashton Irwin!”

Alouette hands the sword to the Herald who then hands her a white belt with red jewels encrusted on the buckle as Ashton rises. She holds the belt in front of him.

“Accept this white belt, symbolizing the purity of your honor, the sign of the Order of Chivalry, and of your knightly rank and station,” she says and ties the belt around his waist. Then she is handed the Knight’s chain holding it before Ashton. “Accept from my hands this chain, passed from knight to knight, for each knight is a link in the honor of our Kingdom. It symbolizes your fealty to Crown and Kingdom. Take this chain and swear.”

Ashton grasps the chain in his hands, right below Alouette’s and looks to the Herald who will tell prompt him what to recite. He fixes his gaze to Alouette after the Herald begins speaking.

“This day do I render homage and fealty to my Sovereign Lady, Alouette Queen of Chadria who will, from this day forward, be my Liege Lady. I will remain true in all ways, serving you faithfully. . .” Ashton can’t help this is just as intimate as a wedding ceremony will be when repeating his vows, “this do I swear by my belt and chain and by my honor and by the high ideals which I hold as a Knight of this land. So, say I, Ashton Irwin.”

“I accept your homage, fealty, and pledge to you that from this day forward until the end my reign you are my Liege man that I will honor your order and defend your rights as a Peer. I will protect the trust that you have placed in me, mighty with justice, tempered with mercy,” Alouette speaks then holds up the chain from his fingers. “Accept this chain, which will symbolize your duty and your bond as Liegeman in fealty to the Crown of Chadria. Never forget the burden of this chain.”

She places the chain around his neck and then a sword is pulled from its sheath by the Herald who holds it in front of Ashton. It’s beautiful and sharp with ruby jewels encrusted on the pommel and guard. Ashton’s eyes widen, he was told he’d be getting a sword, but he didn’t think it’d be this exquisite or grand.

“Accept this sword,” Alouette begins again listening to the prompting from the Herald, “which will symbolize your prowess at arms. Remember this: the sword of the Chivalry should be drawn only in defense of the land, or in front of those weaker than yourself. Wear it with care. Wield it with mercy.”

Alouette points to the sword as the Herald presents it to Ashton who takes it in his own hands examining it quickly before Victor places it back in its sheath. Alouette smiles at Ashton and lifts her hands in the air, motioning him to stand. He rises slowly, eyes fixed on her.

“Arise, Sir Ashton, for you are now a knight of Chadria,” she declares, and he faces the crowd.

“For Sir Ashton Irwin,” the Herald declares, “hip, hip!”

“Hooray!”

“Hip, hip!”

“Hooray!”

“Hip, hip!”

“Hooray!”

Ashton is welcomed in glorious applause and Alouette can see how hard he’s trying to keep his composure. His mouth is quivering from trying not to smile and she admires him proudly. He looks magnificent in his white uniform, his silver chain and white belt. She takes his hand in hers and can’t resist to kiss his cheek.

He truly is her knight in shining armor.

•••••

THREE YEARS LATER

Alouette’s dogs are barking as they prance and run joyously on the palace grounds. They’re chasing younger children and trying to capture the bubbles that the small ones are blowing into the spring air. Rosa is setting up the food table with help of the maids in waiting while Ashton and Alouette watch fondly from their bench.

Calum is off to the side with his shades covering his eyes surveying the area while Michael and Luke are playing with the little ones. Other forms of security are around the perimeter of the grounds. After Alouette became Queen there were more candidates wanting to aid in her safety, especially after Ashton was knighted.

He made sure each one that applied would be a good fit, not just with him but with Calum as well since he became head security guard after Ashton left his post. He still made sure to have an oversight of all security details, he’s a man of habit, but he’s been loving his married life with Alouette.

Their wedding happened about a year after her coronation and his knighting ceremony on a beautiful spring day much like this one. Clear blue skies with a cool breeze that felt nice in the warm sun. Ashton cried as he watched her make her way towards him, she looked like an angel.

Everything about her was soft and delicate, her hair pinned loosely around her face with a tiara on her head, lace flowers covered her bodice and the swan necklace he gave her sparkled in the sunlight. Both of their voices quivered as they recited their vows and when he kissed her for the first time? He thought he’d burst from happiness and the love he felt for her.

Their first year of marriage was adventurous. It wasn’t much different from when he’d travel with her before but now, he was her right-hand man, standing the forefront with his Queen and his love. He counseled with her late at night going over new laws or funding’s that needed review. They’re a team, a solid unit, and the people of Chadria even call him ‘Prince Ashton’ on accident but he fits the role perfectly.

There’s a loud squeal to their left that they both have grown accustomed to and could spot from a mile away. Their daughter, Penelope is running towards them in her pretty pink dress. Her dark blond ringlets bouncing behind her until she finally crashes into Ashton’s legs.

“Hello, my love,” he greets her and lifts her into his lap just as Luke comes to a halting stop. He was chasing her and is clearly out of breath.

Penelope cuddles into Ashton and Alouette smiles fondly at her little princess. She’s perfect in every way but especially today since it’s her first birthday.

“Why were you chasing her?” Ashton asks with a smile; Luke is still panting heavily.

“She stole my earpiece,” Luke huffs.

“Penny, did you take something of Luke’s?” Alouette asks her sternly. Penelope turns her head to her mother, a mirror image. She nods against Ashton’s chest and he chuckles, kissing her blond head. “Can mommy have it, please?”

Alouette holds her hand out, palm up. Penelope hesitates but when Ashton nudges her quietly telling her, ‘go on,’ she drops the small earpiece into her mother’s hand.

“Thank you. It’s time for cake, no more stealing little princess,” Alouette scolds but pokes her in the dimple, the same one that is present in her father.

Penelope smiles and the small family rise from the bench and make their way to the table where Rosa is. Alouette hands Luke his small equipment with an apologetic smile. Alouette’s grandmother and Pete are seated in one of the chairs, party hats on their heads. Flowers are scattered about the table and Neva is helping one of the little girls into her seat, the ring on her finger sparkles in the sun.

Alouette smiles at her when Michael comes up behind her, holding onto her waist and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. Not too long after the celebrations of the coronation and knighting, Neva and Michael got to talking and now they’re engaged to be married in just a few short months. They’re both Penelope’s godparents.

Neva looks up and smiles at Alouette while they take their place next to where Penelope will be seated in front of her cake. It’s a small one-layer cake with cloying white buttercream frosting and intricate flowers placed all over it. Luke and Calum join behind Ashton and Alouette who are kneeling behind Penelope in her chair.

Once the birthday song has been sung, Penelope digs right into the cake putting the piece she grabbed right in her mouth. Chocolate crumbs fall on her dress, the frosting smears on her nose which causes everyone to laugh. She looks to her left at Ashton’s smiling face then smears her little hand over his mouth.

“Mm, thank you my love,” he chuckles trying to lick off the treat. Penelope giggles then claps her hands, cake flies onto Alouette’s dress.

She laughs it off and looks to Ashton. He’s smiling back through his chocolate smile and grasps her hand in his. He leans over their daughter’s head to give her a sweet frosting kiss.

When cake is finished and Penelope is all cleaned up, she’s sitting on a blanket in Helene’s lap while Pete reads all the little kids a story. Helene brushes through Penelope’s hair gently as they listen to the story of a princess who fell madly in love with one of her royal guards.

“Do you think she knows this is about us?” Alouette asks Ashton. His arms are wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as they listen to their own story which was a gift from Neva who had a friend that wrote children’s books.

“She will when she’s older,” he nods then interlocks their fingers together over her stomach. “I’ll tell her everyday how I let my guard down for her mother.”

“And I’ll tell her how I showed my heart for your eyes only.”

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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#fyeo #ashton irwin writing #ashton irwin smut #bodyguard!ashton #bodyguard!au #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton writing #ashton fanfiction #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin au #ashton au #ashton 5sos au #ashton irwin fluff #ashton fluff

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booksrgood4u · 3 years

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Gen & Irene!!!!

I had a feeling you’d ask for them!! Here you go :)

[[MORE]]

How differently do they think of each other now than when they first met?

This question really sent me down a rabbit hole - when Do you think Gen and Irene first met each other? Irene had clearly met Gen before TT because she recognized him. Gen would have known Irene by sight since trolling her palace with Grandpa Thief as a little boy, but when did they actually meet? Anywho, leaving that aside, I remember in KoA Irene thinks that Gen’s impulsiveness scares her and she tries to repress him. And then in ROTT, when Gen tried to abdicate (somewhat impulsively I might add) Irene throws her lot in with him, and it’s just such an awesome example of how far their trust has developed.

What do their friends/family think of their relationship?

Well, we know that MoW hated it until Gen set him and Irene for a little therapeutic Garden tea party. I love how Gen is always aggressively making friends and setting other people up to form friendships. Like a friend matchmaker.

How do their personalities/skills complement or contrast with each other?

On a personal level, I think Gen brings out The parts of Irene that she has suppressed out of necessity. On a royal politics level, he plays the clown so that people underestimate him, while Irene tries to draw him out where people can see him for all of his strengths. Cue Irene singing “why won’t he be the king I know he is, the king I see inside,” a la The Lion King

What is their favorite aspect of each other?

I really need to reread QoA because that’s where I think the building blocks of their relationship were established. I do think Gen looks at Irene as somewhat of a ‘challenge,’ and I do think he enjoys that challenge. I think he might have ended up with a perfectly nice girl like Agape, but he’d always be trying to find that challenge somehow. I don’t think that’s his favorite aspect about her, but definitely something that draws him in.

Do either of them have pet peeves about each other?

Hahaha, Gens pet peeve is Irene’s boring wardrobe, though she seems to have diversified a bit by ROTT, and Irene pet peeves are any time Gen is acting particularly unkingly in so many ways, not the least of which is listening to a guard tell him so. XD

How would each reconcile with each other after a fight?

Gen probably gives Irene little gifts, Irene probably throws some ink pots and then forgives him anyway. On another note, Gen choosing to love Irene after everything that she did to him was such a huge act of forgiveness, but I think she’s spent everyday since choosing to forgive him for... being Gen. good thing she loves him too.

What would be their ideal vacation getaway together?

Ooh, easy question - Gens library in Eddis! That’s Gens ideal getaway, anyway. I feel like Irene might like a villa on some island where her barons couldn’t bug her.

Think of a new way (AU, different situation, etc.) they could have met for the first time.

Hmmm....maybe a modern AU where Irene is Managing partner in a high power law firm but the other partners are always trying to undermine her. Gen could maybe work for Helen, who has a similar position as Irene’s, but he’s kind of a fixer and makes problems go away for Helen’s client in arguably illegal ways. Maybe Irene’s firm is suing him for some underhanded dealings and he loses the case but wins Irene’s heart. So, like a Suits AU. Idk.

#queen's thief

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addcrazy-blog · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on Add Crazy

New Post has been published on https://addcrazy.com/what-is-a-pie-barm-in-wigan-its-a-way-of-existence/

What is a pie barm? In Wigan, it’s a way of existence

One year ago I brought an entire newsroom to a standstill. This wasn’t, sadly, because of any beautiful journalistic success. I used to be simply having my lunch. And it turned into a pie bar.

I didn’t even realize I’d executed something until I became aware of the slow draining away of the hubbub that typifies a nearby newspaper office at noon. I seemed up from what I used to be doing – tapping at my keyboard with one hand, pie bar within the different – and realized everybody was looking at me. Then they started out to depart their desks, to walk over to mine, till I was surrounded by uncomprehending faces. What, they desired to realize, became I eating?

I blinked and checked out the meat-and-potato pie sandwiched between a buttered white roll. It becomes only a pie bar. I seemed in the back of me to peer if there has been a person eating something exclusive and outrageous. However no. It turned into me. Me and my pie bar.

In that crowd changed into a younger woman, perhaps the most stunned and nonplussed of all. Regardless of this … reader, she married me. And knowledgeable me within the ways of carbohydrates, calories and different such things. Not very much time passed earlier than I finished consuming pies in barm cakes.

However, when you’re from Wigan, you by no means, in reality, prevent ingesting pies. You might be said to be resting, or in remission, or recuperating. consuming pies is a part of our DNA, our heritage, our birthright. And a pie bar – additionally fondly known as a Wigan Kebab – is the epitome of our gastronomic lifestyle.

I hadn’t thought deeply about pie bars for some time until this week, when a few wag – a scouser, manifestly – published on Twitter a part of a press release from the takeaway employer Hungry House, launched to mark British Pie Week.

Most of the many facts was a “Metropolis Pie-Off” chart, listing the five pie by way of town or City. London became pinnacle with, relatively bizarrely, banoffee pie. Nicely, I suppose it goes Properly with the handy. In at wide variety, 4 was Wigan with what Hungry House rightly termed “a nearby traditional”, the pie bar.

In Wigan the default lunch – and that indicates how center magnificence I have to turn out to be – is constantly a pie “What the f is a pie bar?!!” numerous people on Twitter requested. Properly, let me provide an explanation for.

Wigan folks have been referred to as pie-eaters for almost a century. The story is that during the general strike of 1926, Wigan miners have been the first to crumble and cross again to paintings, which means they needed to consume humble pie and earned the sobriquet. I assume that’s garbage. We similar to pies, and we constantly have executed.

The default lunch (and that suggests how center-elegance I’ve come to be – in Wigan you have got your dinner at midday and your tea at five) is usually a pie. If taken at home, on a plate surrounded by means of a moat of Oxo. I imagine the pie barm become invented to facilitate ingesting a pie on the hoof. The barm cake – or bar, or roll, depending on where you’re from – No longer best affords adequate insulation to your hand against the warmth of the pie, But serves to soak up any errant gravy or juice – without wasting a drop.

Pies are continually absolutely encased in pastry, none of this slop with a crust simplest on the pinnacle. They can be meat and potato or steak. In case you’re vegetarian you could have a fowl pie, I assume. You’re by no means extra than a hundred ft from a pie keep in Wigan. Every December, the sector Pie ingesting Championships are staged in Harry’s Bar on Wallgate, which has Now not been without controversy. In 2007 a competitor’s dog ate 20 of the pies the night time before the occasion. In 2014 there has been a supplier blend-up and the incorrect-sized pies were added to the bar, with the competition pies as a substitute going to a divorce party. The pinnacle of the championships went on Choose Rinder to get recompense But lost.

Up inside the north, we like to discover humans with the aid of the meals they consume. Consequently, as mentioned, Liverpudlians are scousers, that’s a type of stew. In Wigan’s neighbour, Leigh, humans are “foyer gobblers”, because they consume lobbies, which is much like scouse. God is aware of what they consume in Wigan’s massive rugby league rival St Helens; babies, possibly. But Wiganers will usually be pie eaters.

How crucial are pies to Wigan? Pay attention, once I worked at the Wigan Night Submit I wrote a tale about a fireplace breaking out on the Poole’s pie manufacturing unit. It damaged the manufacturing gadget and they needed to bring in emergency pie-makers to work through the night to ensure the pie stores had their deliveries on time. We splashed the story at the front web page; I assume we’d have headlined it “Black Thursday” or something.

No longer length after my pie bar lunch incident within the newsroom – and that became in Preston, most effective 20 miles up the street from Wigan – I moved over to Yorkshire, in which you can’t get a first rate meat-and-potato pie for romance nor cash. I won’t even have an idea about pie bars again, However for the flap on Twitter this week. And now I will get the excellent antique Wigan Kebab out of my head.

Even now the horrified mentions of pie bars are still scrolling up my Twitter feed. I’m hoping I’ve been capable of offering some solutions. Now, do you want to speak about the delights of chips, pea wet and scratchings …?

Food and drinks inside the British Isles

United kingdom restaurants provide a huge diversity of cuisine from all over the world However why No longer attempt some nearby dishes in the course of your villa excursion. Conventional British food typically includes correct undeniable cooking with sparkling nearby ingredients and is regularly discovered in pubs or in eating places which offer lighter variations of old favorites. Roast pork served with Yorkshire pudding or nearby specialties including Lincolnshire or Cumberland beef sausages can be found on most menus. inside the North Black Pudding made with offal is famous and lamb and hen dishes feature on many menus at the side of hearty meat pies and homemade soups. Meals are normally served with chips, mash, boiled or roast potatoes and an awesome selection of veggies. Whitby on the east coast is well-known for its crabs and the southeast coast is renowned for its mussels, whelks, cockles and jellied eels. In Britain, you’re in no way some distance from a fish and chip shop promoting battered cod or haddock with chips sprinkled with salt and vinegar. Traditional puddings encompass fruit crumbles, apple pie or sponge pudding usually served with custard. Afternoon tea continues to be popular and you may find a properly choice of desserts, scones, jam and cream and sandwiches on a teashop menu. Cheese is an incredible nearby strong point; look out for extraordinary varieties at delicatessens and farmers markets.

There is some excellent award winning white English wines consisting of the ones produced through Three Choirs in Gloucestershire and Wickham in Hampshire.At the same time as playing your British Self Catering vacation you will discover an accurate selection of real ales is served in many pubs; appearance out for neighborhood micro-breweries. Slight along with Banks’, Holdens and Highgate is most usually determined inside the Midlands. Faded sales are extra famous and Timothy Taylor, Adnams, Shepherd Neame and Marston’s have right examples. Cider remains a fave specifically inside the southwest of Britain like Thatcher’s in Somerset.

In Scotland appearance, out of traditional foods which include haggis (spiced sheep’s innards and seasoning) generally served with tatties (potatoes) and neeps (mashed turnip). Venison and grouse dishes are famous as are stories, a combination of potatoes, onion and red meat cooked in dripping. Scotch broth is crafted from mutton or pork inventory, pearl barley, carrots and leeks At the same time as Cock-a-leekie soup is made from chicken, rice, leeks, and prunes cooked in bird stock. Smoked fish dishes such as kippers, salmon and Arbroath smokies (smoked haddock) can regularly be determined. Subsequently, look out for a delicious chowder like dish known as Cullen skink made from smoked haddock, mashed potato, and milk. Scotland is also well-known for its several whiskey distilleries and a few beers too, like Deuchars and Caledonian.

Conventional dishes in Wales include Welsh lamb hot pot and crawl (meat stew with potatoes and greens). Fish is famous and other dishes such as Welsh rarebit (melted cheese on toast) and laver bread made from oatmeal and seaweed. There are masses of nearby cheeses to pattern together with Caerphilly and Pencarreg. try Bara brith, a kind of tea loaf and Welsh cakes, flat scones cooked on a griddle. look out for consuming institutions belonging to the Flavor of Wales (Blas y Cymru) commonly a signal of top meals and Ultimately a few beers to try, Brains or Felinfoel.

In Northern Eire attempt neighborhood cheeses, oysters and Guinness, Irish stew and drisheen (Black pudding). appearance out for soda bread, Barm break (tea loaf) and potato bread and finish the Evening with an antique Bushmills whiskey.

If touring the Channel Islands, self-catering in Guernsey and self-catering in Jersey, then you’ll locate lots of fresh fish, nearby dairy merchandise and sparkling seasonal produce on the menu. appearance out for scrumptious domestic grown produce referred to as hedge veg bought through the roadside during the islands. Revel in!

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