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A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 20.5k
Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth
Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.
Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”
“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.
The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”
Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.
Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.
“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.
The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.
When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.
The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.
Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”
You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.
“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.
“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”
Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.
“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.
Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.
The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.
When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”
You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.
Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.
There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.
Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”
You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.
“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”
Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”
Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.
****
By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.
“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.
“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.
Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”
You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.
You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.
Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”
“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”
You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”
It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.
Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.
The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.
Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.
****
When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.
Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.
You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.
The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.
Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.
A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.
Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.
“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.
“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.
Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.
“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”
“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.
****
“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”
You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.
“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.
“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.
“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.
“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.
“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.
“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.
“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”
“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”
You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”
Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”
“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”
Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.
You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.
Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.
You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”
Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”
You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.
Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”
You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”
Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.
You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”
Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.
“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”
Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.
“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”
Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.
Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.
The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.
Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.
****
“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.
Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.
“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”
“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.
“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.
“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”
“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”
Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”
Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.
Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.
“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”
Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.
You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.
“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.
Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”
He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.
You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.
Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.
"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.
When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.
You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.
Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.
“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.
“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.
“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.
“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”
You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.
Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”
“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”
“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”
You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”
Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”
You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.
****
Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.
“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”
Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.
Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.
Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.
“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”
Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.
“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”
Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.
You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”
Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”
Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”
Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.
You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”
He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.
“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.
“I- I am busy, mija. I-”
Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.
“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”
Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.
“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”
You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”
Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.
“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”
Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”
“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.
Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.
“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.
Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.
You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”
Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.
The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.
Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”
“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.
Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.
Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”
“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”
You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”
Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.
Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.
Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.
“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.
Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.
“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”
Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”
“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”
Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.
“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”
Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.
You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.
Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”
You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”
Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”
You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”
Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.
You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.
Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.
Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.
“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”
Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.
Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.
Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”
You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.
His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.
His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.
Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.
It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.
He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.
Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”
Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”
He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.
Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.
“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.
He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.
“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.
“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.
You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.
The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.
You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.
Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.
He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”
Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.
Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”
“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.
You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”
The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.
“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.
Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.
You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.
Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.
You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”
He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.
You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.
He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.
“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”
He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.
You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.
He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.
Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.
He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”
“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.
Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.
“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.
Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.
You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”
“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.
****
The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”
Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.
“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”
Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.
Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.
Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.
****
“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.
Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.
When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”
It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.
Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.
Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.
Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.
“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”
Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”
You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.
Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”
Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”
You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.
Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.
You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.
Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.
“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.
You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”
Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.
Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.
Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.
You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.
When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”
“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”
Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.
You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.
His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.
You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.
His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.
“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.
He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.
You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.
“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”
“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.
It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.
Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.
Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.
Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”
He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.
Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.
He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.
You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.
Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.
You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”
Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.
****
Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.
“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.
Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.
“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.
Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.
After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.
Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.
“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”
The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”
“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”
“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.
Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”
“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”
He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”
You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.
Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.
You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.
****
As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.
Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.
Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.
“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.
You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”
Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.
“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”
Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.
“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”
Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.
You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.
Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.
“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”
“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.
“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.
Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.
Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound
Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.
Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.
Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.
Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.
“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.
The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”
“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.
You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.
Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.
“A boy, amor,”
“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.
Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”
“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.
Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.
You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.
Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.
Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”
Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.
Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.
#pedro pascal#pero tovar#pero tovar x reader#pero tovar x you#pero tovar x f!reader#pero tovar smut#pero tovar fanfic#pero tovar the great wall#regency pero tovar x reader#regency pero tovar#tovar x you#tovar x reader#tovar x f!reader#tovar smut#tovar fanfiction#tovar imagine
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unexpected. SMAU. LH44. part two.
lewis hamilton x tattoo artist! reader
in which reader is the last person someone you expect to find in the paddock and that is what makes him drawn to you. or lando's tattoo artist friend visits the paddock to tattoo zak brown after the miami gp win and the internet goes mad.
warnings- cursing
part one // part three
main faceclaim is ryan ashley malarkey
y/ntattoos posted a story
written: ready to explore italy away from the paddock
lewishamilton replied to your story: i'll see you half an hour beautiful
hamiltonupdates
liked by user47, user18, user82 and 17,983 others
hamiltonupdates: lewis seen out in italy on what looks like a date. the girl in the pictures is y/n y/ln a long term friend of fellow driver lando norris who is in italy after tattooing zak brown following the mclaren win in miami. what do you think of this pairing?
view all 2,389 comments
user47: she is not wag material
user7: she actually seems really nice, she offers memorial tattoos for free
user47: being a good person is not the only requirement to be a wag, she just doesn't fit the aesthetic
user18: i am hoping that they are just friends, they have a few mutual friends back in london
user82: i actually really like this pairing, unexpected but hot af
y/ntattoos posted a close friends story
landonorris replied to your story: you better be back in your hotel room. alone.
y/ntattoos: well i am back in my hotel room...
landonorris: you are something else y/n i stg
danielricciardo replied to your story: i recognise that car, congratulate lewis for me
y/ntattoos: he says thank you danny
lewishamilton posted a story
written: being treated like a pack horse
y/ntattoos replied to your story: YOU OFFERED TO CARRY IT
lewishamilton: shh baby they don't need to know that
y/ntattoos posted a story
story one written: what the fuck is my life
lewishamilton replied to your story: hope you enjoyed your first flight in luxury princess
y/ntattoos: i did thank you lewis, you did not have to do that
lewishamilton: you really aren't used to being spoiled are you darling?
lewishamilton: don't worry i will show you the finer things in life
y/ntattoos posted another story
written: back in (not so) sunny london
y/ntattoos
liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, mclaren and 538,920 others
y/ntattoos: back to work
view all 22,389 comments
jennanorris: the loml is back in london. finally.
y/ntattoos: jen i was gone for 4 days
jennanorris: 4 days too long
mclaren: counting down the days until you back in the paddock
y/ntattoos: tell @.oscarpiastri to hurry up and win a race. then i will be back
mclaren: threatening him rn
lewishamilton: london is lucky to have you
liked by y/ntattoos
user52: thank god she is far away from the paddock, she is not a worthy wag
user23: lewis get out of the likes. she is not good for you
user12: what qualifications do you have to tell a 7 time world champion what is good for him liked by y/ntattoos
y/ntattoos posted a close friends story
written: the best part of my day
jennanorris posted a story tagging y/ntattoos and laylafinch
written: a night spent drinking wine with layla raving about how much she loves her boyfriend, y/n complaining about how much she misses him and me ranting about my situationship. the duality of women.
lewishamilton replied to your story: she misses me
jennanorris: she hasn't stopped talking about you for the past two and a half weeks. she really fucking misses you.
lewishamilton: hmmm...
taglist for this series: @ilivbullyingjeongin @formulaal
#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fanfic#formula 1 smau#formula one smau#f1 smau#f1 fandom#f1 fic#lh44#lh44 x reader#lewis hamilton smau#lewis hamilton#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you
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Twins Tidbit
So...you guys really liked Syzy and Hinge.
I do get it, they are cuties. While the bulk of the story they appear in is largely unwritten, their reception did motivate me to start on it. I have enough to post here, that won't give away too much about what sort of story they're involved in. Gotta keep some mystery to them!
For now, have a short about the twins on a borrowing run.
Inspired by the entry 'Sweet Tooth' from this list of g/t prompts.
~~~
Syzy huffed as she straightened her back, wiping away the sweat that plastered her light blonde hair to her brow under her wool hood.
She had half a mind to throw back her hood and rip off her knitted sleeves, but she knew they were important to have on. Syzy and her family were particularly fair-featured, which made it harder to disappear in dark spaces. Covering up as much skin as possible and keeping her light blonde hair tied back and hidden under a hood was an easy enough solution, even if it was slightly inconvenient that Syzy chose to wear warmer materials when she didn't need to.
How was she to know it would be so warm in early spring? Living below the streets of London made it difficult to accurately plan for how warmly to dress when on a borrowing trip.
Not to mention that it was stuffy in the junk drawer she and her twin brother cracked open to borrow from. She did her best to make it a quick run, though exerting herself to hurry probably didn't help either.
She'd grabbed enough to make it worthwhile. A few elastic bands, stray buttons, a couple of small, round batteries, and two bundles of matches. One bundle was simply tied up like a bunch of firewood, the other latched to the bottom of her borrowing knapsack, both secured with black sewing thread. At her scale, it acted as a sturdy cord for all sorts of purposes.
Syzy hoisted up the free bundle to toss out of the drawer and up onto the countertop before she began to climb out. Matches were hefty, but incredibly handy to have in the community. Handy and disposable in equal measure, so bringing home a few wouldn't amount to much in the long run. She wasn't about to let her brother get away without carrying half of those matches.
“Right,” she murmured as she pulled herself out of the drawer, breathing in the blissfully cooler fresh air. “Let's get this tied onto your–”
She froze when she glanced around and didn't see her brother there.
“Hinge?” she hissed, panic rising. He was supposed to be keeping watch, to warn her of any approaching humans or other dangers.
She didn't have to look far to find him. That panic quickly shifted to frustration when she saw what he was up to.
Snatching the matches, Syzy stormed across the kitchen countertop to the shallow bowl of candy sitting all by itself. And the fellow darkly-dressed, inches-tall figure standing beside it, scooping a piece at a time into a drawstring pouch.
“What the hell is wrong with you??” she scolded, giving her brother a light punch in the shoulder. That finally got his attention, and he jumped back in startlement. Hinge glanced sheepishly between his sister and the massive bowl of sweets, tucking back the locks of strawberry blond curls that had fallen into his face under his hood.
“I– Well– Oh c'mon, sis, it's Smarties!” he insisted with big turquoise puppy-dog eyes. “It's chocolate in there, look!” To emphasize, he pointed further into the bowl to one of the flat, round pieces of candy that had broken in half, revealing the chocolatey center under the sugar coating.
Syzy batted at his hand. “We're supposed to be borrowing here,” she reminded him, “not taking sweets. You're never gonna eat all of that anyway!”
“It's not just for me!” Hinge argued, holding up his pouch for Syzy to see. He'd already packed about six or seven pieces into it, each about the same size if not larger than his head. “They never leave stuff like this out. We could make decent trading with these! I'm not the only one back home who just wants something sweet.”
Though her mouth opened, not a single comeback came to Syzy’s mind. He did have a point there.
Since borrowers didn't have any sense of currency, bartering was the name of the game down in the communities. Supplies were easy enough to gather in the city above, and plenty of their people had skills suited for things other than borrowing, services they could offer one another in exchange for supplies. Or rare treats, depending on what suited one's fancy.
At sixteen years old, Syzy and Hinge were more familiar with trading than borrowing in terms of practice. Their parents had only begun to trust them alone on borrowing runs like this within the last year or so. While the sister had honed her skills to make sure she was prepared for anything that might happen in the upper world of human beings, it seemed the brother had been paying more attention to the details of things that would not only be useful to gather, but valuable.
Syzy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you're the one who's gonna carry all that junk, and your share of the matches,” she grumbled, shoving the tied bundle into his arms.
The look of triumph Hinge had dropped as he scrambled to steady the sudden weight of the matches along with the sack of candy. To mimic his sister, he gave an eye roll of his own and shot back, “Fine.”
With their squabbling over, the siblings fell into sync. Hinge shifted things in his grip to start shrugging his pack off, while Syzy pulled a length from her roll of thread and unsheathed her dagger (the metal part of a tiny portable seam ripper, removed from its casing and sharpened into a proper weapon) to cut it free with a flick of her wrist. If they each took one end of the bundle, they could get it tied to Hinge's pack in half the time.
Then, simultaneously, they stiffened. Something felt off to them, and they looked up from their respective tasks and out toward the large windows on the back doors. Through them, Syzy and Hinge had a perfect view of the garden out back, and the shed tucked in the far corner.
Horror struck them as the shed door swung open, and a human strolled out, immediately followed by a second one!
#g/t writing#sfw g/t#gt writing#sfw g/t writing#g/t community#gt community#giant tiny#tiny#the borrowers#borrower OC#borrower oc Syzy#borrower oc Hinge#borrowed time and space#this is what happens when things get notes#*looks around* who said that?
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What Makes a Family (2/?)
Summary: Single parents Rose Tyler and James McCrimmon come together to embark on a whirlwind, passionate romance that seems to be the happy ending neither of them thought they’d get. But when James’s past comes back to haunt them and threatens to tear away everything they’ve built together, they must find a way to weather the storm that will either break them or draw them ever closer, all while answering the question of what it means to be a family.
💜 It’s back!! This is the new and improved version!! 💜
Ten x Rose AU
This Chapter: Teen, ~6800 words
AO3
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“There’s a new boy in my class!”
James McCrimmon looked up from the calendar he was putting together of assignments, projects, and lesson plans for the month of September: there were a few units he was shuffling around, but for the most part, he could use his old calendar from last school year. That was the best part about teaching, in his opinion: once he had his first year under his belt, everything else came much more easily, since he wasn’t starting from a completely blank slate.
His nine-year-old daughter, Alex, skipped cheerily through the door of his classroom, the French braid he’d done for her that morning miraculously still intact and bouncing off her shoulders. She flashed him a grin that stole his heart all over again, and he was suddenly aware of how much he’d missed her over the course of the school day.
“Hiya, darling,” he said, rolling his chair away from his desk and opening his arms for her. She dropped her school bag onto an empty desk, then vaulted into his lap. He gave her a big hug and pecked a kiss to her cheek. “What do you mean there’s a new boy in your class? It’s the first day; isn’t everyone new?”
Alex let out a sigh of the long-suffering. “Well, yeah, but I at least recognized everyone else. But David’s brand new. That’s his name. David. He just moved here, all the way from London.”
“Wow,” James said. “Must be hard for him, starting at a new school and not knowing anyone, huh?”
“I’m gonna be his friend,” Alex said brightly.
His heart swelled; Alex seemed to go through life making it her personal mission to love everyone she met. If only adults could be so kind. Other children, too. Far too many of Alex’s friendships fizzled out because she was too much for them to handle: too loud, too giddy, too energetic. Every time Alex came home crying that so-and-so didn’t want to be her friend anymore, a small piece of him died inside, buried with the friends he, too, had lost through the decades for the exact same reasons. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree at all in that regard.
“That’s very kind of you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek again. “How was the rest of your day? High and low?”
“Low: they had tinned pears for dessert at lunch.” Alex pulled the most disgusted face he’d ever seen on a nine-year-old, and James had to stifle a chuckle. He wasn’t sure if his daughter hated pears because he hated pears, or if she genuinely didn’t like the fruit of her own volition. Either way, if that was the worst part about her day, all was well. “It was so gross. I gave mine to Connor, and he gave me the banana his mum packed him in his lunch. High: I won the class spelling challenge and got a lolly. Miss Oswald was testing us to make sure we knew our vocabulary from last year. I did.”
“That’s wonderful, well done,” he praised.
“Your turn,” she prompted. “High and low.”
“Low: I’ve got all these worksheets to mark.” James gestured to the stack of algebra problems that he was using to gauge the sort of maths he needed to review before starting new material with his Year Sixes. He hoped his students remembered their basic arithmetic. “Love the teaching, hate the marking. And my high: I found some new slow cooker recipes that sound yummy. We can try one out this weekend, if you’d like.”
“Ooh, lemme see!”
James absently bounced his daughter in his lap as he pulled up his web browser’s bookmark tab where he’d saved the recipes. He opened each of the ones that caught his eyes in individual tabs, then began showing them to Alex in the order of what he thought she’d like best.
They spent the next few minutes reading the recipes together. While they did, James watched his daughter’s face intently, noting the ones that piqued her interest and the ones she wrinkled her nose at. She wasn’t necessarily a picky eater, per se, but she never consistently had a favorite food; one day she would love spaghetti, then the next wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole, and would be back to loving it the following week. It certainly made meal planning a difficult chore.
“This sounds like Chinese takeaway,” Alex said, pointing to the recipe for chicken and broccoli. “Can we do this one?”
“Sure thing. We can stop by the shops after school on Friday to get everything we’ll need.”
“M’kay. I’m hungry,” she announced, hopping out of his lap.
“Yeah? All that talk of food make you a bit peckish?” James rolled his chair back to the mini-fridge he kept beneath his desk and rooted around for an apple and container of yogurt. Before he could ask “Which one do you want?”, Alex snatched the apple and bit into it. A droplet of juice dribbled down her chin.
James handed her a napkin and said, “Once I finish these worksheets, we’ll go home. Do you have anything to work on? Let me see your log book.”
Alex rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook calendar planner. She handed it to him, and he flipped it open to today’s date. Apart from “read for twenty minutes at home”, she had no other homework. Not surprising, considering it was the first day of school. No teacher he knew assigned homework on the first day.
“Right, once you finish your snack, I’ll let you watch something on YouTube ‘til I finish my grading.”
Alex rolled her eyes and nodded, her mouth too full for her to form a proper reply. He couldn’t help it; even though this was their normal routine—Alex joining him in his classroom at the end of every school day—he could never stop himself from reminding her of the schedule: that he had papers to grade or lessons to plan, so she needed to sit quietly for an hour working on her own schoolwork before they could go home for the night.
The sound of chewing became background noise as James worked swiftly through the problems he’d assigned his class. He had the answer key memorized, so it was a simple enough matter of granting the questions a check mark or an X. He was relieved to see that he wouldn’t need to do too much review, apart from reminding students how to work with fractions in their algebra. They seem to have forgotten that finding a common denominator when adding and subtracting was a requirement, not a suggestion.
He wrapped up his work earlier than usual, right as one of Alex’s YouTube videos came to an end. He stepped up to her, popped her earbuds out, and whispered, “Time to go home.”
She dutifully shut down the computer then set it in his desk drawer where it would be waiting for her tomorrow afternoon, as always.
James slung his bag over one shoulder and guided his child out of his classroom, locking the door behind him. There were a few other teachers milling about the halls, as well as the janitorial staff.
“Goodnight, Mr. O’Brien!”
“Goodnight, Miss McCrimmon.” Graham O’Brien, a kindly, recently-widowed gentleman, sketched a half-bow to Alex, making her giggle and follow up with a curtsey.
Alex bade goodnight to every soul they came across. She knew them all by name, and they, in kind, knew her. Not just as the daughter of one of the teachers, but as a cheery little girl who was genuinely kind to everyone. On more than one occasion over the years, a teacher or staff member came by to tell James of an encounter they had with Alex that had brightened their day, whether it was a card she’d made for them out of the blue, or how she’d complimented their new haircut.
When the pair returned home to their small, end-unit terraced house, the first thing Alex did was race to the back door to let in the bouncing, fluffy creature staring piteously at them through the glass.
“K9!” Alex cried, as though it had been weeks since she’d seen her dog rather than a few hours.
The black-and-while labradoodle danced around Alex’s legs, his entire back half wriggling with excitement and pleasure as Alex smothered him in kisses and scratches. He rolled onto his back, tongue lolling as Alex gave him ample belly rubs.
“Ready to go for a walk?” Alex cooed. “Ready for a walkie?”
K9 bounded to his feet at the “w” word, then eagerly followed his little mistress to her bedroom where she changed out of her school uniform. Likewise, James changed out of his work clothes and put on a worn pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that would help combat the chill of the evening air. Summer was ending early, it seemed.
When he returned to the foyer, Alex was in the middle of securing the walking harness around their dog, who, despite his rapidly-wagging tail, was standing patiently.
“Got it?” James asked, double-checking her work, even though she’d been proficient with getting K9 harnessed up for years.
“Got it.” She clipped the lead to the harness. “Let’s go!”
K9 pranced in place while James grabbed the house key, then opened the front door. Despite the dog’s eagerness, he didn’t pull on his leash; rather, he let himself be guided out of the house by Alex and stayed right by her heel, letting her set the pace. Those months of obedience training when he was a puppy paid off, helped by the fact that K9 seemed to be a more intelligent than usual animal.
James snapped a quick photo of his child and dog on his phone, then fell into step with Alex. As they walked through the neighborhood, greeting anyone and everyone they passed, Alex continued to recount the minutiae of her school day.
“Miss Oswald assigned a project already,” Alex announced. “On the solar system, due in a couple weeks—September nineteenth. We’ve got to build a model with the sun and all eight planets, but we can include Pluto if we want to ‘cos we know he’s out there, and Miss Oswald said that ages ago Pluto used to be its own planet but then some scientists decided it wasn’t. How does that work? How can they just say a planet isn’t a planet when we know it’s a planet?”
James was about to explain exactly how and why Pluto was demoted, but his daughter barreled on, her question seemingly rhetorical.
“And we’ve got to try and make the planets’ sizes as accurate as possible. Not like, accurate, ‘cos obviously planets are massive, but to scale with each other. Roughly. So Jupiter has to be the biggest—well, the sun is the biggest, but you know what I mean—and Mercury has to be the smallest. And we can try to color-code them if we want, and I do want to, so we have to paint Mercury gray and Venus yellow and Earth green and blue and…”
It was impressive that she hadn’t paused to catch her breath yet, but rather continued to ramble on and on about her project. At least she’s excited about it, James thought. Unlike her project on Guy Fawkes last year.
The assignment had been to play pretend at being a museum tour guide with specialty knowledge of a famous historical figure. Each student was to stand in front of the class and talk for a few minutes about their person. The one mistake Alex’s teacher had made regarding the project was assigning the historical figure to the students, rather than letting them pick one. James understood the rationale; at that age, most eight-year-olds likely didn’t have much experience with historical figures to get a diverse enough representation that wasn’t solely old monarchs. But Alex struggled with the project because she was disinterested in the person she was assigned.
James had practiced with his daughter every night in the days leading up to the presentation, but she utterly refused to cooperate, and had rushed through the spiel of Guy Fawkes with no facts other than the gruesome details of his death. It had been no surprise, therefore, when James had been called into an after-school meeting with Alex and her teacher to discuss why her presentation had gone so poorly, even though she could recite fact after fact about Guy Fawkes when prompted.
Alex’s response had merely been, “Guy Fawkes is so boring. He was part of a failed plot to kill a king, got caught, then died, and now we’ve got Bonfire Night, which is the only good thing about him anyway.”
That had prompted James to tell her that lots of things in her life would be boring, but she needed execute even the most boring of tasks satisfactorily. He wasn’t sure how well the lesson sank in, considering she’d only done marginally better on the second chance her teacher had given her to complete the project. However, the teacher told James that, going forward, students could pick their historical figure, or be assigned one if they couldn’t come up with anyone to research.
Presently, Alex was listing everything she knew about the various planets, from their size to surface temperature to how many moons—if any—orbited around them. She even began to recite some of the names of the moons certain planets had, then asked another rhetorical question about why Earth’s moon didn’t have a proper name like all of the other moons, and that society should come up with a name for it.
James was struck with such pride that he’d created such a clever little human. He would have to tell Alex’s teacher, Clara, that this planet project would probably be Alex’s favorite assignment of the year.
After an hour of walking the familiar streets of their neighborhood, they arrived back home and started on dinner. Alex fed and watered K9 while James tended to their food, warming up leftover chicken parmesan and peas.
“Wanna be Eugene or Olaf?” Alex asked, holding up two blue cups with the respective Disney characters printed on them.
“Either,” he said absently, testing to see if their meals were heated through.
“Eugene, since your hair’s the same,” Alex said with a decisive nod. “I’m gonna be Belle.”
Alex filled their cups with water and plopped down in her usual seat at the kitchen table. Really, it had been a card table from his days at uni, but with just him and his daughter living in their small house, they didn’t need much more space than that.
James mentally rehearsed his lesson plans for the following day while he ate, only half-listening to Alex, who inexplicably still had more to talk about, then they worked together to clean up the dishes from their meal.
And that was their night. Years of engrained habits made for a predictable—if not a little dull—evening, even down to their dog knowing when Alex’s bedtime was. K9 dutifully sat on the floor at the foot of Alex’s bed while James tucked himself onto the edge of her twin-sized mattress to read a few chapters of Matilda together. The book was one of her favorites; they must have read it a dozen times together, enough so that James nearly had the whole thing memorized.
When he reached a good stopping point, James stuffed a bookmark between the pages and set the novel on Alex’s bedside table.
“I like Miss Honey,” Alex said, tucking her arm tightly around his waist and preventing him from leaving her bed yet. He melted back into the mattress, happy to give her more snuggles. “I don’t like Matilda’s mum and dad. They’re mean.”
“Yeah, they are,” he agreed, resting his cheek into her soft, chestnut locks.
“You’re not mean to me,” Alex continued.
“I try not to be. Funnily enough, I like you quite a lot,” he teased, poking her side.
Alex squirmed and breathed out a silent laugh. She yawned and hugged him tighter. “Hey Daddy?”
“Hey whatty?”
“I’m never gonna have any siblings, am I?”
James froze, mind whirring to figure out where the question had come from. Was it the book they’d just read? Matilda had an older brother, but as they established, the Wormwood family was rubbish.
“Well, never is quite the absolute,” he started, scratching at the back of his suddenly-hot neck. “It’s got a sort of finality, doesn’t it? Never…”
Alex sighed, her shoulders drooping. James cringed, and amended his daft response by gently saying, “No, you probably won’t have any siblings.”
“Why not?” she asked, frowning. “I hate being an only child. Everyone else has brothers and sisters except for me!”
James’s heart sank at her outburst. “I’m sure that’s not true. Loads of kids don’t have brothers or sisters—I never did.”
“We had to introduce ourselves to the class today and only one other kid in my class was an only child.” Alex sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “It’s not fair!”
James pulled her close, tucking his cheek to her hair and rubbing long, slow lines down her back. “I’m sorry, darling, but sometimes that’s just the way things are. Sometimes things in life aren’t fair, and it’s really crummy, but we need to find a way to be okay with it.”
She kept her face buried in his chest as she said, “Don’t you want more kids?”
James licked his lips. Alex loosely knew where babies came from and how they were made, but like most nine-year-olds, he didn’t think she truly understood the full picture, or the implications therein.
“Well, for starters, having a baby takes two people,” he hedged. “And it’s just me. So that rather throws a spanner in the works, doesn’t it?”
Alex stilled for a moment, then pulled back to look up at him. Her eyes weren’t nearly red enough for her to have been properly crying, but her distress was unmistakable nevertheless.
“Don’t you want to get married?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s complicated.”
If he were being honest, James had considered marriage exactly once: when his on-again, off-again girlfriend, River, informed him that she was pregnant in the summer before their final year at university. And even then, it had been an impulsive proposal on his part. Though he’d only known about the baby for all of thirty seconds, he was determined not to be his father, who’d never acknowledged James’s existence, or his mother, who often left him in the care of his grandparents because she was too busy enjoying her youth to be weighed down by a child.
Thankfully River had knocked some sense into him, and the conversation of marriage had never gone further than those first few minutes.
But since then, there had never been anyone in James’s life he’d considered spending his forever with. There had been Joan, whom he’d dated for slightly over a year when Alex was a toddler, but there hadn’t been any sort of spark between them—just familiarity and a mutual desire not to be alone. Then there was Harry, who, until last Christmas, had been a fellow teacher that James regularly hooked up with after work parties and events. Harry had moved away to Wales, and James found that after the initial pang of loss, he didn’t really miss Harry at all.
He wondered if that meant there was something wrong with him, that nobody ever cared to stay long enough to want to stay forever.
“Well I think you should get married and have lots of babies so I can have lots of siblings,” Alex announced decisively, breaking him out of his maudlin thoughts.
“Duly noted.” James leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Time to get some sleep. I love you very much. Even if it’s just you and me forever, I’ll never be disappointed with our life.”
A hint of a smile flashed across her lips, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, too. Nighty night.”
He carefully slid off the mattress and tugged the blankets up to her shoulders. Alex grabbed them and hugged them tight to her chest, cocooning herself in their comfort, as she wriggled into the warm spot left behind by his body. He stroked her hair, brushing it away from her face, and moved to exit her room. On the way, he gave K9 a quick scratch behind his ears.
“Good boy. Keep her safe. Chase away her scary dreams.”
The dog snuffled, as though understanding his nightly assignment, and curled up on the floor in a way that he faced the door. James smiled fondly, and left.
He went back to the kitchen and sat with his computer at the table to get a few things finished for his class for the following morning. He proofread the algebra worksheets he’d be giving his students, and triple-checked that he knew how to do all of the practice problems correctly without looking at his notes.
However, the lessons review took longer than he would have liked because he kept getting distracted with the conversation he’d had with Alex. This wasn’t the first time she’d inquired about having siblings—and it probably wouldn’t be the last—but it was the first time she’d expressed such displeasure at being an only child.
Truthfully, James had never considered fatherhood until it had been thrust upon him unceremoniously. While she had turned out to be the best gift of his life, his daughter hadn’t exactly been planned. Though he’d flourished in fatherhood, his child would be hard-pressed to get a sibling, as his dating life over the past almost-decade had been non-existent apart from impersonal hookups on occasion. Even those had cooled in recent years.
Blowing out a tense breath, James stood up, not in the mood to do any more lesson prep, knowing his focus was finished for the night. Instead, he meandered to his bedroom and the locked briefcase he kept in the back of his closet beside his locked safe of sex toys that were surely covered in dust and cobwebs for how infrequently they were used nowadays.
He grabbed the briefcase and flicked the dial to reflect the correct number combination, and popped open the case. It was where he kept all important legal documents for himself and Alex, but at the very bottom of the stack was a small stash of near-pristine photographs. He picked them up, handling them gingerly as though his mere touch would ruin them, and began to leaf through them.
The top-most photograph had been taken by a helpful nurse on the morning of Alex’s birth. James smiled at the sight of his pink, wrinkly, furious-looking baby. Her brows were knitted and her little lips were puckered into a frown, as though she couldn’t believe the audacity of the universe to force her into existence.
At the time this photograph had been taken, James hadn’t yet held Alex. His baby was instead resting on her mother’s chest.
James’s eyes wandered to the wild-haired woman cradling Alex to her breast. River. Part of James balked to refer to River as Alex’s mother, because what kind of mother abandoned her newborn child without a word, without an explanation. What kind of mother walked away and never looked back? James hadn’t heard from River in the nine and a half years she’d been gone; he didn’t even know if she was still alive.
He forced his long-held resentment at bay, knowing that River’s leaving was probably for the best. If she’d stayed, James knew in his heart of hearts their relationship never would have lasted. It would have crumbled to ash, and River would have gotten primary custody of their daughter—James would’ve been lucky to see his child on a weekly basis. He couldn’t imagine not having Alex every day, not tucking her into bed every night and hearing her say, “Nighty night, Daddy. I love you.”
A physical ache lodged somewhere behind his ribs until he reminded himself that he did have Alex with him, and always would. No, despite the initial terror and pain of abandonment, things had worked out for the best. Still, despite knowing he was better off without River, sometimes he yearned for the comfort of being with someone he was familiar with; he could always lose himself in her, for better or worse. Nobody ever talked about how lonely it was being a single parent; it was always about how hard it was to be the sole caretaker of a young child, or how rewarding the joy of parenthood was. And it was hard, and rewarding, but it was also incredibly isolating. There weren’t many opportunities to go out and meet people; or, if he did get a chance to go out, it was usually to take Alex on a playdate, where he would hang out with other parents who all seemed to be happily married or otherwise taken.
How did people do this, go on dates? Sure, he’d gone on plenty of dates when he’d been an unencumbered bachelor, but that had been at university, where he’d been surrounded by other horny young adults looking for a bit of fun. It was almost as if that part of his life had been lived by someone else. Someone with charm and charisma, someone without a care in the world, who didn’t know the meaning of responsibility even if it smacked him in the face.
It had been so easy back then. He had made dozens of friends from sheer proximity, had been invited to loads of parties where it was no trouble at all to drunkenly make out with whomever caught his fancy that night. No strings attached.
But now, he found, he wanted some strings. Now that he’d begun fixating on Alex’s of question about whether he wanted to get married, he couldn’t stop. What would it be like, knowing there was someone he could come home to, could fix dinner with, could share the household chores with? How comforting would it be to know there was someone with whom he could share all of his secrets and fears and dreams?
The thought of this mysterious figment of his imagination lodged a lump in his throat that he had a hard time swallowing down.
James cursed, frustrated with and sorry for himself. He replaced the photographs—all of which featured the long-lost River Song—back into his briefcase, before returning it to his closet, once again locking his past firmly away. He was luckier than most. He had a wonderful child, a stable job, and a nice (albeit small) home. And a dog. How could he possibly want anything more than that?
Damn Alex and her questions. And damn himself for getting stuck on this train of thought. He was a twenty-nine-year-old single father, and being a father would always come first. He would never trade his child for anyone, not even if the universe would guarantee him his perfect soulmate in exchange. Alex was his life’s greatest achievement, his greatest gift, his greatest joy. But dating as a single dad was hard. Most people weren’t exactly content to be second-best in a relationship, because that’s what they would be. His daughter would take priority, and there was no compromising that.
If only there was a way to advertise up front what his expectations were in a relationship, he lamented.
That thought brought him pause. Advertise…
He lived in the twenty-first century, didn’t he? He had the entire internet at his disposal, humankind at the tips of his fingers.
Before he could lose his nerve, James grabbed his phone from his pocket to send a message to one of his oldest friends. “Hypothetically, if one were to sign up for a dating app, which app should one choose?”
He should have known better than to think this entire conversation could be a text thread. Barely a minute after he sent the message, his phone buzzed in his palm with an incoming call: Jack Harkness.
With a heavy exhale, James flopped onto his couch and accepted the call.
“Doth mine eyes deceive me, or is James McCrimmon actually trying to get laid?”
James rolled his eyes, even as a ghost of a grin pulled up the corners of his mouth. “Good evening to you, too, Jack. And it was a hypothetical scenario, remember?”
“Well, hypothetically, I think you’re looking for a shag.”
“No,” James said with more patience than his friend probably deserved, “I’m just, y’know, entertaining the possibility of going out on a date. Getting to know someone. That’s all.”
“Getting to know someone biblically?”
“Jack!”
His friend laughed boisterously on the other end of the phone. “All right, all right. You’ll want to avoid Tinder then. Loads of horny people on that app. I assume you’re not looking to shag on the first date? You haven’t done that since uni.”
James’s cheeks and ears heated a bit. “Well, I’m not opposed to it, if there’s chemistry. But I’d prefer to meet someone who’s interested in a long-term relationship. I don’t want any quick, meaningless flings. I want, well, I want a partner. And I want someone who knows how important Alex is to me, and who accepts that and won’t try to change it.”
“I hear you loud and clear.”
Jack then launched into a ten-minute spiel about the various dating apps James could try, as well as providing his opinion on which ones would probably work best for what James was looking for. James digested all of the information as it poured out of his friend’s mouth, making a mental list of pros and cons for the recommended apps.
Once his app of choice was downloaded onto his phone, James continued speaking to Jack for advice on how to best advertise himself.
“I’m a man, interested in any gender, looking for… why can’t I click both friendship and serious relationship?” James asked as he set up his profile. “I’d like to be friends with my future partner. Doesn’t everyone want to be friends with the person they’re dating?”
“Funnily enough, it often doesn’t cross peoples’ minds to be friends with their significant other,” Jack drawled. “Not like you can talk; you and River were just fuck buddies.”
James bristled a bit, even though Jack wasn’t exactly wrong. But there was a bit more nuance to it. At least that’s what James always told himself. “We were friendly enough. We appreciated each other’s company to keep seeing each other throughout our days at uni. And we shared enough fondness for one another that we moved in when we learned of the pregnancy.”
“Well, yeah, ‘cos you’re a decent guy,” Jack argued. “Anyone else would’ve scampered away and refused to acknowledge that they’d ever had sex with the girl they’d knocked up. You know, it’s funny… you did the stereotypically “woman” thing by doing the best by your child and staying for her, while River did the stereotypically “man” thing by swanning off to God knows where.”
“Wasn’t very funny from where I was sitting,” James grumbled.
“You know I didn’t mean it like haha-funny. Peculiar-funny is what I meant. You know I was furious with River, too.”
James sighed and rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Thanks. But we’re getting sidetracked. I’m just gonna click that I’m looking for something serious. Oh Jesus, how do I describe myself in five hundred characters or less?!”
“Hmm, let’s see… Single dad looking for a life partner but will show you a good time too. Flaming hot sexy teacher who would be down for some kinky roleplay…”
“I’m trying not to attract one-night stands, thanks,” James interrupted. “Shut up and let me think.”
It was more difficult than it should have been, but after a few minutes of typing, deleting, and editing, James finally read out his profile bio: “I’m interested in finding a romantic partner. I’m a single dad of a beautiful nine-year-old girl who is my whole world. We like to play board games together and take walks with our dog. She likes to experiment in the kitchen, so we’re always cooking and baking. We love to travel, and we make a point of visiting a city we’ve never been to on school holidays. We also enjoy quieter pastimes of visiting museums or art galleries. If any of this appeals to you, send me a message.”
James knew he’d done something wrong by the series of impatient sighs Jack let out the longer he rattled off his information.
“As delightful as Alex is, people want to date you, not your daughter,” Jack said, exasperated.
Face heating, James skimmed back over what he’d written and mumbled, “Well, it’s all true. I can help it. Alex is my life.”
“I know she is,” Jack said softly. “But you know you’re allowed to have a life apart from your child, right?”
“Pfft. Nobody ever told me that.” James groaned and scrubbed his hands down his face. “It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. I’m nearly thirty and have no bloody idea how to get somebody to go on a date with me. I can’t even figure out online dating.”
“You’re a perfect catch for someone,” his friend soothed. “But to find that someone, we need to tailor your profile a little bit. I’m not saying to cut out all mentions of Alex, because your future partner should know how seriously you take this fatherhood thing. But you need to put more of yourself into it. Believe it or not, you’re a pretty great person. I have no regrets from our twelve-year friendship.”
Jack’s words did little to quell the acid churning through James’s gut. “Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. Maybe I should, I dunno, join a chess club and meet someone that way.”
“No no no, don’t give up yet,” Jack cajoled. “We can figure this out. There’s got to be someone on this damp little island who wants to fall in love with your ridiculously big heart and shag your clever little brains out. Let’s think: you’re dead clever and dead sexy. You know how to have a good time but can also enjoy a lazy day in. You’re a devoted dad and are eager to bring someone else into your tight-knit family unit. You’re looking for friendship and companionship with your romance.”
James hurriedly typed out all of Jack’s suggestions as he said them until they were hindered by the character count limit. They then spent time tweaking the phrasing and descriptions of the main aspects of James’s personality so that all of his strengths were put on clear display in a neat, concise bio.
“Oh bugger, I don’t have any photos of myself,” James muttered when he moved forward in his profile creation. “My phone is full of Alex, or she’s in all the photos with me.”
“That’s fine, as long as your face is there too. And not half out of frame.”
“No, I just… I don’t want my nine-year-old daughter’s face on an app meant for adults to find companionship in every definition of the word. What if some creep sees her and takes an interest and hacks my account and finds her and…”
James knew he was spiraling into an anxiety attack about something that had such a microscopic chance of happening, but he couldn’t help but think of one of his students last year, who had gone through the tribulations of a criminal trial because she’d been sexually abused by someone in her neighborhood.
“James, breathe,” Jack instructed, his voice firm but kind. “Let me send you some photos. Take a look, and see if you’re comfortable with them. Grab a glass of wine or something in the meantime.”
James did indeed pour himself a healthy measure of wine as he waited for whatever Jack was coming up with. To assuage his still-racing heart, James shuffled down the hall and poked his head into Alex’s room. She was safely in her bed, her blankets pulled up to her chin, her breathing deep and slow. His muscles unclenched, and he felt like he could breathe easily again.
“You still there?” Jack’s voice was faint from the living room, and James hurried back.
“Yeah, I’m here. What did you do?”
“Take a look. I texted you something.”
James set his wine on the coffee table and picked up his phone to look at his messages. Jack had sent him six photos. Alex was in four of them, and in each of those, he’d covered her face with a cartoonish image of a smiling orange flower in sunglasses.
“I didn’t even think of doing that,” James said sheepishly.
“I figured. Does that help?”
“Yeah. Loads. Thanks, Jack.”
James uploaded the photos, and hovered with his thumb overtop the publish profile button. “Do you… do you really think this will work?”
“I think it will work if you want it to work,” Jack answered. “Relationships take time and effort. You may find a few bad eggs along the way, but when you find some good ones, you need to make the effort to get to know them. This isn’t a magical fix. It’s just a way to stream-line conversation.”
James nodded. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind. Well. Here it goes.”
He held his breath, and pressed the button. The screen faded a little for a few seconds, before brightening back up with his new, shiny dating profile. Along with it, the app began showing him a rotating pool of potential matches for him. However, his brain was fried and he didn’t think he had the energy to read anyone else’s profile tonight. He closed the app and set his phone on his chest as he once again slouched into his couch.
He was about to work on ending the conversation with Jack when his friend asked, “If you don’t mind, why the sudden urge to start dating?”
James sighed. “I think I’m having a mid-life crisis.”
“You’re not middle-aged, so it’s more of a third-life crisis, but go on.”
James told Jack about Alex’s behavior at bedtime, and how upset she was that she didn’t have siblings, which led to him reevaluating what he wanted from life.
“I’m lonely,” he said at the end of his explanation. “I love my daughter with every fiber of my being, but…”
“But it’s not the same as having adult companionship,” Jack finished gently. “I get it. It’s okay, you know. You can be content with your life on the whole, but still wish for more.”
“It’s hard for me to acknowledge that without it feeling like I’m somehow displeased with Alex. Or I feel guilty because I’m admitting she’s not enough, when she is. Or I feel like I shouldn’t complain about my lot in life because I have the most perfect daughter in the world.”
“Well, you’re a bit biased on that assessment,” Jack teased. “But she is rather great, isn’t she?”
“The best,” James agreed. Then he let out a huge yawn. “Blimey, we’ve been chatting for an hour and a half. I should get to bed.”
“Yeah, me too. Give my love to Alex. When can Yan and I see her next? Wanna come over for dinner on Friday to celebrate the first week of school?”
“That sounds great. Thanks. We’ll bring dessert, as usual.”
“Perfect. See you then. Goodnight.”
James ended the call, then chugged the last of the wine in his glass before shuffling off to bed. When he stepped into his bedroom, though, a surprise waited for him: Alex was tucked under the blankets, and K9 was sprawled on the floor beside her.
Odd—he hadn’t heard her leave her room, and he’d just checked on her a half hour ago. James approached his daughter and pressed the backs of his fingers to her forehead, fearing an illness had drawn her to the comfort of his room. But her skin wasn’t any warmer than it ought to be.
She stirred at his touch, her eyelids lazily fluttering open. She blinked blearily, her gaze unfocused.
“Hiya, darling,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her. “You feel okay?”
“Marchin’ in the fields,” Alex slurred. “Keep up.”
James suppressed a chuckle as her eyes slid closed again. He stroked her hair away from her face, concluding that nothing more than sleepwalking—a habit she’d had since toddlerhood and was ever-so-slowly growing out of—had brought her to his bed. James left her where she was; she’d mosey back to her room if she wanted to.
Silently, he changed into pajamas, washed his face, and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed. Alex remained dead asleep, curled on her side facing away from him. His heart clenched with a flood of affection, and he leaned over to kiss the back of her head.
“Good night, sweetheart. Daddy loves you.”
#ficandchips#dwfic#doctor who#ten x rose#tenth doctor#rose tyler#ten x rose au#doctor who au#family fic#kid fic#my fic#what makes a family
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On this day... - May 25th
On this day Led Zeppelin performed:
+ 1969 : Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Maryland, USA
Notes: A rare double-bill featuring Led Zeppelin and the Who - the only time this would occur. (backstage video)
“At the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, MD, on Sunday night, comedian Uncle Dirty, Led Zeppelin and The Who performed to a packed hall, field and parking lot. Led Zeppelin played a fairly orthodox show, mostly using material off their first album." - by R. Cowan
+ 1975 : Earls Court Arena in London, UK
youtube
“If there was ever a concert that you could brag about seeing to all your friends, it was the Led Zeppelin one at Earls Court on Sunday evening. It turned out to be a nocturnal delight, one which should be remembered for eons to come. The American show that they brought home with them comprised some of the best rock music in the world, highlighted by opulent stage and lighting effects and an abundance of dry ice in traffic light colours. Led endeavoured to take us on a musical journey of their six and a half years reign. […] The sound in the vast arena was amazingly clear and concise. […] The finale was of course Stairway To Heaven, an extravaganza of all things bright an' beautiful. This got the crowd on their feet and clapping for more. The encore was Whole Lotta Love, improved with age in the same way a good wine tastes better if allowed to mellow.” – ‘Led Zeppelin – Earls Court’ (Record Mirror)
+ 1977 : Capital Centre in Landover, Maryland, USA
“The British quartet opened a sold out, four-day stand at the Capital Centre Wednesday night with a three-hour sonic devastation of 18,000 willing victims. […] The bag of tricks they use at the Capital Centre features later beams, smoke pots, phosphorus explosions, double and triple-neck guitars, a stainless steel drum kit on a rolling platform and a sound system that sings by itself. But the heart of the show is its music. And the heart of the music is guitarist Jimmy Page. […] The music came screaming out of Page's fingers, usually at top volume, sometimes painfully loud. […] The light show was splendid, mixing green, blue, pink, red and white spots with green and red lasers. At various times, the lights shown from above, behind, beside and even below the players. At one memorable point, Page was captured in a green laser pyramid in the center of the darkened stage. […] Then came the finale, “Stairway to Heaven”. […] With the sound of the opening notes, the crowd rose and screamed, just as it had three hours earlier when the show began.” – ‘Led Zeppelin unleashes sonic devastation with theatrics to match’ by Tom Basham
#on this day#led zeppelin#robert plant#jimmy page#john paul jones#john bonham#classic rock#ourshadowstallerthanoursoul#Youtube
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Fic: First Day
Donna Noble embarks on her first day at UNIT, 10 weeks after we left her at the end of The Giggle.
Donna had opted to use the tube for her first day. Did UNIT Tower have an underground carpark? She made a mental note to ask someone. If she was going to be saving the planet every week, she felt she deserved a commute that didn’t involve standing with her face in someone’s armpit.
Maybe she could have her own personal driver- no, that would be pushing it. She could still barely believe she’d talked her way into a £120k a year job when this time last year she was doing admin on a fixed term contract for a recruitment company which made them all fork out for their own Christmas party. Now she was a permanent employee of an international organisation defending the Earth!
She had taken a while to agree on a start date - first of all her house had been demolished in an alien skirmish, so she felt like she needed to be settled in her new home before embracing her new role as Consultant Advisor under Kate Stewart. She did feel slightly nervous about the responsibility awaiting her, but she had done so much already that surely the only difference was now she was being financially compensated for her efforts. She had been sent a welcome pack in the post, containing her contract for signing and the company handbook that had some old country house emblazoned on the cover. Very National Trust, apart from the almost comical wooden sign reading ‘Ministry of Defence. U.N.I.T. Headquarters. KEEP OUT.’. Clearly they needed to update their marketing materials, now they sit at the top of a swish skyscraper in central London, complete with a helipad, and according to Shirley, the best coffee machine this side of the Milky Way.
The house had been quiet as she left that morning. Shaun was dead to the world after a late night taxi shift, and Sylvia had taken Wilf to visit Minnie. The Doctor, having made himself a resident of her back garden, had recently begun reaching out to old friends, now that he had an address to visit. She was charmed to meet Ace, bemused by the robot dog trundling alongside her, and Tegan made her hoot with laughter when she gave the Doctor a dressing down for saying she used to complain a lot. Jo Jones had embraced her so enthusiastically that she knocked her mother’s favourite vase off a table (thank God, it looked hideous), and she’d been overjoyed to host a raucous wine night when Martha finally found out about her getting her memories back and rushed round with a bag of clinking bottles to make up for lost time.
This morning there was a square patch on the grass which the TARDIS had vacated the previous day, as the Doctor had decided to pay a visit to an elderly couple named Ben and Polly in India, and a time space machine is less hassle than Heathrow. Rose had begged to go too but Donna had reminded her that she had mocks soon, and last time she’d gone on a daytrip with the Doctor she’d missed a week of school as they’d ended up in Ancient Athens, returning with their tails between their legs. As consolation, she let Rose stay overnight with another girl from school to revise for their exams. She was doing her A Levels but was disengaged outside of Art and Design. Maybe UNIT had a work experience program? Not out in the field of course, she didn’t want to encourage that; maybe they needed a new logo designing, or a rethink on their uniforms. She could see Rose sketching out a new look for the troops, the current all black look didn’t compare to the chic red berets she remembered from the ATMOS factory. Although knowing Rose’s taste they’d end up all furry with googly eyes on their helmets and pipe cleaners and pom poms on their chests. Maybe not, then.
Walking through the automatic shining glass doors stamped with the organisation’s insignia, Donna’s stomach threatened to do backflips. She refused to let misplaced imposter syndrome spoil this for her. She’d saved the universe, every universe, for crying out loud. If she could survive being locked in with rabid Ood, sneak through a Sontaran battleship undetected, deduct that a generations-long war had only lasted a week, and outthink the Not-things, she was ready for whatever life working for UNIT could throw at her.
“Hello, darling!”, a voice sang out, and Donna looked across the reception area and saw a familiar mane of red hair. “I came down to meet you!” beamed Mel.
“You’ve not come to let me down gently then?” Donna laughed, still slightly nervous, but the butterflies inside her calming in the presence of her friend.
“Don’t be ridiculous, come on, let's get you set up upstairs.”, Mel said, whisking her briskly to the lifts, waving to the receptionist to let them through the security barriers. “There’s so much to do! We need to get your photo ID pass sorted, your hair looks gorgeous by the way, and - oh you’ve arrived just in time, our Shadow Proclamation liaison is off sick and we’ve had communication last night from the Judoon that they need jurisdiction to arrest a minor royal for trafficking Graskes - complete crisis. Kate’s on it but needs support arranging rendition.”
“Judoon? Space Rhinos, yoyo velcro tesco fomo; we’re already acquainted.” Donna replied as the doors slid open with a soft ‘ding’. “Let me at ‘em”.
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The Occult, Witchcraft and Magic: An Illustrated History The Occult, Witchcraft and Magic: An Illustrated History Contributor(s): Dell, Christopher (Author) Publisher: Thames & Hudson ISBN: 0500518882 Physical Info: 1.4" H x 10.2" L x 8.3" W (3.8 lbs) 400 pages From the earliest Paleolithic cave rituals, magic has gripped the imagination. Magic and magicians appear in early Babylonian texts, the Bible, Judaism, and Islam. Secret words, spells, and incantations lie at the heart of every mythological tradition. Today, magic means many things: contemporary Wicca is practiced widely as a modern pagan religion in Europe and the US; "magic" also evokes the cathartic rituals of Chaos magic, but stretches to include the non-spiritual, rapid-fire sleight of hand performed by slick stage magicians who fill vast arenas. [An] invaluable source book on the history and practice of magic and occultism, filled with mystical symbols and perplexing charts. Whether the reader attempts to practice magic upon finishing this book is not as important to Dell as tracing the origins and roots of magic throughout the centuries. Layered throughout is a visually satisfying collection of eclectic and sometimes jarring photographs that will fascinate and stir curiosity.-- "Publishers Weekly (starred review)" From the days of the earliest Paleolithic cave rituals, magic has gripped the imagination. Magic and magicians appear in early Babylonian texts, the Bible, Judaism, and Islam. Secret words, spells, and incantations lie at the heart of nearly every mythological tradition. But for every genuine magus there is an impostor. During the Middle Ages, religion, science, and magic were difficult to set apart. The Middle Ages also saw the pursuit of alchemy--the magical transformation of base materials--which led to a fascination with the occult, Freemasonry, and Rosicrucianism. The turn of the twentieth century witnessed a return to earlier magical traditions, and today, magic means many things: contemporary Wicca is practiced widely as a modern pagan religion in Europe and the US; "magic" also stretches to include the nonspiritual, rapid-fire sleight of hand performed by slick stage magicians who fill vast arenas. The Occult, Witchcraft and Magic is packed with authoritative text and a huge and inspired selection of images, some chosen from unusual sources, including some of the best-known representations of magic and the occult from around the world spanning ancient to modern times. Publishers Weekly 10/10/2016 (EAN 9780500518885, Hardcover) - *Starred Review Booklist 11/15/2016 pg. 4 (EAN 9780500518885, Hardcover) Wilson Nonfiction Catalog 04/11/2019 (EAN 9780500518885, Hardcover) Contributor Bio: Dell, Christopher Christopher Dell holds a degree in the History of Art from the Courtauld Institute, London. He has written and edited several books on art and visual culture, including Freemasonry, Mythology, What Makes a Masterpiece, and Monsters: A Bestiary of the Bizarre.
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I’m probably never going to write this story. I’ll share what happens just for you:
Sirius materialized at the familiar corner in London, where he and James had often lingered over packs of cigarettes. Yet, this time, the air was thick with apprehension, each step pulling him further from the comfort of routine. Gripping his wand tightly, he approached the shadowy figures ahead, his heart racing in fear of what lay before him.
As James's hand tangled in his hair and Lily's usual sparkle dimmed in her eyes, Sirius's breath caught in his throat. Was it truly them, or were they twisted illusions conjured by Death Eaters to ensnare him?
"Sirius, where's Harry? Is he safe?" James's voice pierced the silence, filled with urgency and fear.
Sirius didn't say a word as he took in the two individuals in front of him. James looked at him with pleading eyes and spoke softly. "You tie your left shoelace before your right. You twist your watch twice after putting it on your left hand. You twist the rings on your finger three times every morning for good luck. You told Lily on our wedding day that she was the sister you always wished you had. Every time we went to the ice cream shop in Wales, you would order a cone, then switch at the last minute to a cup, irritating Mr. Mackenzie."
Sirius's wand dropped as he reached out to clutch his best mate, afraid he would disappear into the darkness that surrounded them.
Lily wrapped her arms around them both. "How?" Asked Sirius, it was the only word that he could vocalize.
"We'll explain after. Where's Harry? Is he safe? Is he okay?" Lily asked in a panicked voice.
Sirius nodded his head, not being able to talk. He cleared his throat. "Dumbledore. He's with Dumbledore."
Lily and James's faces went white as a ghost as Lily fell to her knees and started sobbing. James grabbed the front of Sirius's shirt as if he were holding on to it to keep himself upright. James shook his head, his hazel eyes wide in horror. "Padfoot, Dumbledore's dead."
Okay, I was given permission to post this little snippet of an idea. I AM DYING FOR MORE. Like… what do you mean Dumbledore’s dead??
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So I had this thought months ago that I wanted a fan shirt (I can't remember at the time if this was 1 Fandom in particular or if it started as multiple)
So with the audacity I got from my dad that I can try any craft/ diy and the millennial knowledge that I can just youtube it I decided to embroider a shirt
So I bought a shirt on Amazon (I was looking for a "football shirt" is what at the time I called it but idk if that is right so...) and I picked up some embroidery floss (big question why I bought a pack of mostly green when I got a black shirt and was going to use white floss.... 🤷♀️)
So that done comes the real conflict.... what am I embroidering?.....
So I think originally I was going to just make it a Fandom shirt so like any Fandom I was part of or liked... (now it is just a book/ webcomic shirt) but how am I listing them?
Once I started thinking out it I switched to couples and then it changed to include books but that brought even more questions...
So if it's couples do I go by ship name? But some of the books I wanted to use aren't big enough to have a ship name...
So like the couple ao3 tag? But I really don't want to embroider Alex and Henry’s full names....
Just first names? For some reason there is a lot of Alex's (tho now that im thinking about i think the only name that repeated was Charlie) and also what about legal name vs. nickname?
I'd just go with nicknames but what if the couples call each other but their legal name (malec) or they use a different name (zimbits)?
(At some point I switched this to just being books - originally the only webcomics I was including were also published but I added Castle Swimmer at the last moment without thinking so....)
What if I just went with book titles? But what about series? (And some book titles are long...)
Just use the series name! ... but most of the series names are just the MCs first name... and I'm not reping the entire Like Us series just Marrow...
And this logic keeps circling back around...
I tested out doing a little bit of each but I got a little mad at the uneven distribution and I had strong opinions on what I wanted some of them to be ( I love the firstprince ship name but for this project I really wanted to use the title)
I starred doing more planning related to placement and decided to just go with book titles and for series just the first book in the series. (Tho I did use just Tortall and I was a little mad about losing London Calling to Boyfriend Material and I really thought about leaving Captive Prince as Capri)
Once all the planning was done I... actually had to do the thing...
I'm glad I got stabilizer that was washable and worked in my printed so it just took a few tries to get the size correct and I could start
(And then restart after doing a quick Google search on the best way to embroider letters)
It was pretty easy, tho it did take awhile and would have taken longer if I was being really careful about following exact letter shape and stitch length. ....it also didn't help that Poppy realized embroidery floss was an OK sub for yarn to play with...
I did *cough* wait to wash any of the stabilizer off until the very end.... There was a cat in the sink when I finished the first one! It wasn't a problem tho because it washed out super easy and looks great!
... as I was taking the pics I realized i spelled Castle Swimmer wrong 😅 so maybe I'll just cut that one out later...
But overall I'm really happy with it and there is definitely room to add more when I want :) (tho I will have to remember what font and size I used because I was dumb and didn't save that...)
#reading#fandom shirt#snowbaz#zimbits#firstprince#heartstopper#damaged like us#tortall#white trash warlock#captive prince#castle swimmer#london calling#the charm offensive#love hate and clickbait#embroidery
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How to Plan a Stress-Free Small Flat Move in London
Moving to a new flat in London is an exciting chapter, but the process of planning and executing a move can be daunting. From navigating busy streets to packing up your belongings, there’s a lot to consider. If you’re moving from a small flat, you may think the process is simpler—but even smaller spaces come with their unique challenges. Here’s how to plan your move smoothly and efficiently, whether you’re relocating across the city or to a nearby neighborhood.
Step 1: Create a Moving Checklist Start with a checklist that outlines all the steps involved in your move. Breaking it into smaller tasks can help you stay organized: ● Declutter your belongings and decide what to keep, sell, donate, or discard. ● Research and compare removal services in London that specialize in small moves. ● Notify your landlord or property manager and arrange for final inspections. ● Gather packing supplies, such as boxes, bubble wrap, and tape.
Step 2: Declutter for a Fresh Start A small flat can accumulate more items than you realize. Before packing, take a good look at what you own.
● Clothing: Donate clothes you haven’t worn in a year. ● Furniture: Measure your new space to ensure larger items will fit. ● Kitchenware: Keep only the essentials and pass along duplicates. By reducing the number of items to move, you’ll save time, effort, and potentially money.
Step 3: Research Moving Options Choosing the right moving option depends on your specific needs and budget. Consider these:
DIY Move: If you have a car and minimal belongings, you could pack and transport everything yourself.
Man and Van Services: Perfect for small-scale moves, offering flexibility and affordability.
Full-Service Movers: Ideal if you prefer to let professionals handle the packing, transportation, and setup. When comparing services, look for those that offer: ● Experience with London’s unique challenges, like parking and narrow streets. ● Insurance for your belongings during transit. ● Positive customer reviews and recommendations.
Step 4: Understand the Costs One common question is: How much does it cost to move a small flat in London? Costs vary based on several factors: ● Distance between your current and new flat. ● Size and weight of items to be moved. ● Additional services, such as packing and unpacking. By obtaining quotes from a few companies, you’ll get a clearer picture of what fits your budget.
Step 5: Plan for Moving Day Moving day in London can come with its challenges, from traffic congestion to finding parking. Be prepared: ● Book a parking permit in advance if required for your moving vehicle. ● Pack an essentials box with items like toiletries, a change of clothes, and important documents. ● If using professional movers, communicate clearly about timing, access points, and any special instructions. Why Professional Removal Services Are Worth Considering If you’re juggling a busy schedule or feeling overwhelmed, hiring a professional removal company is a smart choice. They offer expertise in handling small flat moves, ensuring your belongings are packed, transported, and unpacked with care. We at South London Removals deal with effective and affordable relocation services in London and across England.
For Further Queries? Please call us at: 020 3927 7675
#Flat removal companies in London#Movers in London#moving companies in London#small flat removals#removals in london for 1 bhk#student removals in london and england#Compare Removal Companies#Cheap Removal in London#House removal companies in London#Storage Services London#House movers in London#Removal Quotes#Removal Quotes London#Best Removal in London#Cheap packing materials London#Best packing materials London#flat moves#flat removals#one-bed flat move#studio flat move#student moves#student moves london
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The World’s Best Gins, According To The 2024 San Francisco World Spirits Competition
SH’s Wild Scottish Gin can win a gold medal but his bottle is not considered the World's Best Gin, according to the 2024 San Francisco World Spirits. SH’s favourite Spirits competition. For every brand of gin, 100 exceptional competing brands appear. This should help SH to understand he is not the only one in the level of competition.
Best in Class Gin Finalists 2024 KATELYN TUCKER PHOTOGRAPHY
The San Francisco World Spirits Competition (SFWSC) just released its finalists for its Best in Class awards, which will be revealed this October. If they made the finalist list, they are the crème of the crop. The finalists in their three most prominent gin groups are in no order.
Best in Class Gin Finalists
Dada Chapel Organic Dry Gin
Housed inside a converted convent in Ghent, Belgium, the team at Dada Chapel Distillery, led by a descendant of the Duvel Moortgat family of brewers, makes award-winning spirits using local raw materials. Their Organic Dry Gin eschews the trend of flavouring their gin with a wide array of botanicals. Instead, it only uses fresh-harvested juniper berries. The resultant liquid is herbaceous and crisp.
Hilbing London Dry Gin
The family behind the Hilbing Franke Distillery in Mendoza, Argentina, has been producing high-quality spirits from pure Andean Mountain water known for their delicate flavours for five generations. Their London Dry Gin blends Argentinean citrus, coriander, and juniper flavours with Malbec grapes from their vineyards to create an exceptionally smooth gin.
Ben Lomond Scottish Gin
Inspired by the majestic Ben Lomond Mountain in the Scottish Highlands, the team behind Ben Lomond Scottish Gin labours to produce gins that embody the rugged and adventurous spirit their country is known for. Their award-winning Scottish Gin uses a distinct blend of eleven botanicals to create a herbaceous liquid that's perfect straight up or in a cocktail.
Eight Lands Organic Speyside Gin
Yet another fantastic gin from Scotland, Eight Lands Organic Speyside Gin, is the result of a meticulous focus on producing clean organic spirits. Located in the heart of Scotch whisky country, this gin from Glenrinnes Distillery was created to win the hearts of traditional Martini drinkers with its balanced flavour profile and crisp aromatics.
Juniperus Gin
Hailing from the land Down Under, this flavour-packed gin from Prohibition Liquor Company delivers quite a hit with each sip. An ultra-premium craft gin, it's a classic London Dry Gin with layers of flavours that surface with each sip. Using exotic ingredients like Grains of Paradise and cassis bark, it is both complex yet approachable.
Best in Class Flavoured Gin Finalists for the 2024 KATELYN TUCKER PHOTOGRAPHY
Best in Class Flavoured Gin Final….
Settlers Spirits Yuzu Gin
Located in South Australia, Settlers Spirits produces a range of gins designed to showcase the wide array of flavours that gin can present to drinkers. Its Yuzu Gin is one such bottle. Made from Australia’s first commercial crop of Yuzu, a citrus fruit from Japan, China, and Tibet, it is brimming with bright flavours and has a clean finish.
Gervasi Spirits Pink Peppercorn Gin
The beauty of flavoured gins is that you can sip them straight or use them to punch up a cocktail. Gervasi Spirits Pink Peppercorn Gin is one such bottle. Made in Canton, Ohio, the home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, it uses Pink and Szechuan Peppercorns to create an aromatic gin that delivers a spicy punch with each sip.
DiBaldo Spirits AU 79 Saffron Gin
DiBaldo Spirits must be onto something with their AU 79 Saffron Gin. It continually lands at the top of most major spirit competition award lists. Made in Emilia Romagna, Italy, it uses one of the world's most expensive spices, saffron, to craft an ideal balance between Mediterranean flavours and Far East exoticism. If you are into making off-the-wall cocktails, this is the bottle for you.
Luscious Spirits Raspberry Gin
When you name your company Luscious Spirits, you better deliver some over-the-top flavours. Crafted in small batches through vapor infusion, their Raspberry Gin delivers. Using a blend of 12 botanicals and a dose of fresh raspberries, it exhibits vibrant juniper and citrus tastes up front with a sweet, fruity finish.
Junipero Smoked Rosemary Gin
If you are a fan of craft gin, then chances are you have heard of Junipero Gin. Founded in 1996, Junipero Gin was one of the first craft gin makers in America. They helped reset drinkers' opinions on what gin could be. Still handmade in San Francisco, each of their bottles is loaded with flavours, perhaps none more so than their Smoked Rosemary Gin. An unfiltered gin bottled at 98.6 Proof, its distinctive smoky rosemary flavours make it unforgettable.
Best in Class Barrel Aged Gin Finalists for 2024 KATELYN TUCKER PHOTOGRAPHY
Best in Class Barrel Aged Gin Finalists
Starlight Distillery Simon’s 1794 Bottled-In-Bond American Dry Gin
When Starlight Distillery launched a little over a decade ago in Borden, Indiana, its primary goal was to produce brandies and ports using fresh fruits from the Huber Farm, of which it is a part. Luckily for drinkers, they branched out, and these days, they offer a wide array of spirits, many using ingredients from the farm, one of the largest fruit farms in the state. Their Simon's 1794 Barrel Finished Gin is one such product. A small batch of gin, its distinctive citrus and juniper flavours blend perfectly with spices from the barrel.
Crazy Eights Gold Oak Gin
One of the beautiful things about barrel-aged gins is their unpredictability. You never know quite what you will get until the first sip. Inspired by the film Kill Bill's murderous yakuza gang, the Crazy 88's gin from Hai Seas Distillery in Shanghai, China, delivers something killer. Made from a fusion of eight botanicals, Crazy Eights Gold Oak Gin is aged in the world's first whisky barrels made from French, American, and Chinese oak. It's overflowing with citrus and caramel flavours.
Nozawa Onsen Distillery Barrel-Aged Gin
Made at the newly opened Nozawa Onsen Distillery in the heart of mountainous Nagano, Japan, home of the 1998 Winter Olympics, this barrel-aged gin has yet to be released to the public. Entered into the competition as a sneak peek at what's yet to come, it wowed the judges. There is a reason for that: every gin they have released in their short lifetime has won widespread acclaim. Keep an eye out for this bottle when it is released; it's one to grab.
Corsair Distillery Barreled Gin
When Corsair Distillery opened as the first craft distillery in Nashville, Tennessee, since prohibition, they had lofty goals: to make some of the best craft spirits in America. Well, a pile of accolades accumulated over a decade and a half points to a goal achieved. Known for their whiskies and gins each of their bottles is one to search out. Their smokey with whisky undertones Barreled Gin is another bottle that is not ready for public release, but judging by its showing at the SFWSC, expect to see it soon.
Seabourne Distillery Barrel Aged Series-Pedro Ximenez Cask
When distillers decide to barrel age their gins, they often take big swings for the fences. Some work, some don't. Often, the products they do come up with are only available in limited releases or just at the distillery itself. Such is the case with this amazing gin from Seabourne Distillery. Located in the town of Noosa in Queensland, Australia, its gins often result in drinkers making a pilgrimage to the distillery to sample their wares. This barrel-aged gin is brimming with black pepper flavours and goes down sweet.
*Hudson Lindenberger - Forbes
Posted 4th June 2024
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A Mitchell Family Short Who: Winter, Henry and Xavier (with mentions of others!) What: They're getting ready after the hearing to go to the Van Hall's for a BBQ celebration Where: Mitchell Family Household When: Wednesday, May 8th A/N: The Mitchells have a moment.
Xavier waited in his study for his kids to get ready. They had wanted to change into something comfortable before they headed to his boyfriend’s house to celebrate their Gotcha Day. He smiled at the bouquet of red carnations they had gotten for him and was still very touched by the gesture of them going behind his back to put in a request for May 8th for the hearing. He had no idea Winter, the Foster Care Agency and his lawyer had not only put these plans into motion but that they had succeeded. Having a packed courtroom also meant so much to him. He was so full of love from his friends and family. The kids had also arranged sending carnations to their grandparents in London and their family there. He stood up from his office chair, realizing they should probably get going soon and walked out to call Winter and Henry’s name.
“Are you guys almost ready?” Xavier called out and Henry popped up behind him, starling him before he let out a laugh. “Hey. Are you ready?”
“Ready.” He held up two Pokemon tins. “I’m bringing my Charizard and Mewtoo collection so that I can play with Leo and I already promised Fletcher I was going to show him some of my best cards. He will appreciate these, I think.” Henry smiled at his father and Xavier messed his hair slightly.
“That sounds like a great way to spend your afternoon. Where’s your sister?”
Henry shrugged. “What do I look like here? I’m not her keeper!” He giggled softly and then moved to plop on the couch. “Winter! Dad and I are ready! Did you clog the toilet again?”
“Listen you little—” Winter came out of her room, ready to fight and then caught her father’s expression. “First of all, I don’t appreciate making up these stories. That was Eliza and it was because she thought it’d be wise to flush down an entire chicken noodle soup. I warned her. Dad, do I look okay?” She spun in her spot for her father’s approval.
“You look beautiful. But rewind a little bit on the toilet issues?”
Winter then looked at Henry or looked at her and then back at their dad. “It’s fine! We got a really good plumber, and he fixed it. See? I’m super responsible.”
There was no doubt in Xavier’s mind that was true but he made a mental note to speak to his assistant about flushing food down the toilet. “Alright. Well, while I appreciate the honesty, I’d appreciate it in real time. Okay. Deal?”
“Deal.” The two kids spoke in unison and Winter added, “I got Drew carnation seeds for his garden! That way he will always remember us and I got Fletcher a bouquet like yours and Phoebe gets a carnation headband!” Winter was excited with a giant smile pulling at her lips and it made Xavier smile.
“She made headband herself. Tyla helped.” Henry tapped on his tins.
Xavier checked out the headband and admired the detail. “This is so pretty, honey. I can’t believe you made this on your own?”
Winter nodded. “Tyla has an eye when it comes to shopping. We went to Michael’s and the fabric store across the street from Target. Don’t worry, Louise was with us the entire time. She found this pretty lace. I’m going to make Phoebe headbands for every event! Do you think Fletcher will mind?”
“I don’t. No. I think he’ll be very impressed.”
“Good! I’ve already started Halloween ones! I’ll make them for the other babies too!”
“You should sell them. Leo can teach you about making a profit!” Henry called out as he checked out the back of his tins.
“There’s an idea! Dad! I can make a killing!” Winter put the headband back in the small giftbag.
“If it makes you happy, we can make a budget for the materials you need and get some spreadsheets going so that you can record your earnings. Start small and maybe open up an Etsy shop if you really enjoy it.” Xavier saw it as a great opportunity for Winter to work on her love for fashion. “And when we fly to London, you can show you nana. She’ll be so proud!”
“I’ll make her one too!” Winter was beaming and Xavier couldn’t help but notice.
“I have a question!” Henry looked up. “Now that we’re family and you’re dating Fletcher and Drew is the best. Does that make him our grandpa too? Because I thought about calling him Uncle Drew and it doesn’t seem right. Winter was too embarrassed to ask you so…”
“Henry! The quiet parts are too loud! Sorry, dad I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable asking that question but Henry has a GIANT MOUTH!” She glared at her brother who simply shrugged.
“Well…” Xavier scratched his brow and laughed. He leaned against the frame of the door as he pondered over what to say. “You know what, that should be up to Drew. Why don’t you two ask him? He won’t mind and neither will Fletcher, trust me. I think that Drew will love being asked that question.”
“Are you sure?” Winter bit her lip. “I don’t want to ruin anything for you guys and well, I’ve never had a grandfather. I’m not sure with the etiquette is. Emiliana said she could be our aunt! I don’t know. Do I sound childish? Ugh, now I’m nervous.”
Xavier frowned slightly and took his daughter’s hand to draw her close to his side for a hug. “Hey. You’re not going to ruin anything. You know, when I was in foster care, I didn’t have grandparents either and when your uncle Clayton and I finally got adopted, we didn’t know how to act. It was harder for you uncle to adjust. But you two? You have been incredible, and we’ve bonded so quickly. It makes sense that you’ve bonded with Fletcher’s family too. If I’ve learned anything about them, it’s that they’re as open minded as we are. And trust me, I understand being eager about having a family.”
“We’re just so happy you’re our dad and everything is so good right now.” Henry added and left his tins behind to go hug Xavier too.
“Yeah, it’s like we’re waiting for something to go wrong.” Winter looked up at Xavier. “Dr. Reyes says that’s the trauma though.”
Xavier smiled at his children and was pleasantly surprised that they were taking something out their time in therapy. He was so proud of them both. “Well, Dr. Reyes would be correct in saying that but I’m not going anywhere and I promise I’ll give you both the best life I can possibly give you. We’re going to be a unit and we’re going to do everything together. We’re going to be honest with each other and we’re going to not flush chicken soup down the toilet.”
“It was Eliza!” Winter chimed in and then giggled into Xavier’s side. “I’m the adult here sometimes.”
Xavier snorted and so did Henry. “Okay. It was Eliza. We’re going to be okay. And you guys were Mitchells the moment you got here.”
“I told Winter. This was our forever home. I knew it.” Henry sighed contently.
They hugged in the hallway for a couple of minutes and then Winter pulled away. “Oh no! We have to pick up the cake! Before the bakery closes!”
“Crap! The cake! Okay, Winter, you start the car.” He tossed his keys at Winter. “Henry, check lights and make sure we have everything! I’ll get the other groceries out of the fridge.” They all nodded and dispersed quickly. Xavier gathered the extra foods he had gotten for the BBQ and closed his fridge only to stop at the sight of the magnet photo of the three of them by the bay. He smiled softly, admiring the picture of him with his children. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was.
“Dad! Winter won’t let me listen to Aespa!”
“I told you! No K-pop during the week!” Winter yelled at Henry.
Xavier rolled his eyes playfully and headed for the garage. “We’re listening to 90s!”
He could hear his kids groan and he laughed. “Driver wins.”
“Dad, no! Whyyy?!”
Xavier laughed at his kid’s protests knowing fully well he’d listen to whatever they wanted to forever.
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Today's mix:
The Sound of Eukatech Five by Nils Hess 2001 Techno / Tech-House
Decent and ephemeral techno and tech-house dispatch here from the London-based Eukatech label's Sound of Eukatech series that was released in 2001 and mixed by Nils Hess, who, before delivering this one, had also co-mixed the previous installment of this series with Richard Summerhayes, and had also done The Sound of Eukahouse for a Eukatech sublabel whose name you can probably guess as well.
Now, normally, when it comes to any comp or mix whose name begins with 'Sound of…,' I think it'd be safe to assume that what's on that release is going to be material from a single entity—in this case a label, namely, Eukatech. But that doesn't actually seem to be the case here. *Some* of the tracks that appear on this album are from the Eukatech catalog, but not nearly all of them. And I wouldn't necessarily call that deceptive or misleading, but if you're a newcomer to this series, it definitely might be a bit unexpected.
Anyway, props to Nils Hess himself for not only doing this mix, but also showing that he can hack it as a producer too, because among this tracklist that has some pretty notable turn-of-the-millennium European techno names on it, it's Hess, under his Reck moniker, who delivers one of its greatest gems in "Dragons Turning," which is remixed by Stigmata, a German duo that just so happened to take home the award for 'Best Producer' at the German Dance Awards for the same year that this mix was released. This is a song that takes some time to brew, but once you get a taste of its sweet, dinging hi-hats, it really finds some nice and steady footing 😌.
But a song on here that might be better than Nils Hess' own offering is the one that directly succeeds it: beloved Slovenian DJ and techno/tech-house god Umek's "Potential 11 B2." Umek has a career that dates back to the early 90s, but long before the term 'EDM' became widely adopted and Umek started racking up numerous accolades and high rankings among various publications and websites that specialized in EDM itself, he was churning out darkly nifty productions like this one, which sees a pairing-up of a panicked, plonking synth melody with some intermittently hard and banging hi-hats. And Nils Hess appears to be the only one who's ever laced a commercial mix with this bit of gold too.
So an overall solid and well-mixed set from the early 2000s here by the UK's Nils Hess. It's not an exceptional release that's going to totally blow you away by any means, but he definitely manages to pack some tasty techno goodies in here regardless 😋.
Listen to the full mix here.
Highlights:
Rino Cerrone - "Optical Way" Gaetano Parisio - "Pain 23" Gaetano Parisio - "The Preface C1" Reck - "Dragons Turning (Stigmata Remix)" Umek - "Potential 11 B2"
#techno#tech house#dance#dance music#electronic#electronic music#music#90s#90s music#90's#90's music#2000s#2000s music#2000's#2000's music#00s#00s music#00's#00's music
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Writing Patterns
List the first sentence of your last 10 AO3 works.
(I’ve also seen the “and the last sentence” variant, so I went ahead and did that.)
Thanks for the tag, @eirenical, @kingsandbastardz, and @momosandlemonsoda! (Sorry it took me so long to do this!)
Everything listed here is Horatio Hornblower fic, and includes canon era and my modern AU (canon era is all Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy, and modern AU is Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy/William Bush).
Also, if you go read any of them, mind the tags/trigger warnings on AO3! They're all about PTSD/trauma recovery in one way or other, which means they have a bunch of triggers. If you want more details before reading any of them, feel free to ask me!
And now, the examples:
Nunc Atque Semper
Opening line: Maria checked the clock on the bookshelf again.
Closing lines: Horatio’s eyes grew distant, and a faint, bitter hint of a smile twisted the corner of his lips. He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Welcome to purgatory.
2. Taking Hands Against a Sea of Troubles
Opening lines: Archie halted in mid-stride in the centre of the crowded street and snapped his head around to stare at Horatio. “What do you mean, you’ve never been to Drury Lane?”
Closing line: But, as long as Archie was alive and breathing by his side, nothing else mattered.
3. Holding Fast
Opening Line: “Bush! What’s our status?”
Closing line: He let his eyes fall shut.
4. The Vital Importance of Doing Research
Opening Lines: Admiralty Office, February 4, 1809
Pursuant to an Act of Parliament, passed in the Twenty-fifth Year of His late Majesty’s Reign, this is to give Notice to those whom it may concern, that Information has been received at this Office, that the Galliot Maria, of Gibraltar, whereof George Heseltine was Master, (Owners’ Name not known), laden with Oranges, from Seville, and bound to London, was stranded in the Night of the--
Will blinked and rubbed his bleary eyes as he swallowed back a yawn. He’d be asleep in five minutes if he didn’t take a break.
Closing line: Thank goodness he’d grown up since then.
5. Ships and Swans
Opening line: “Are you sure about this, Horatio?”
Closing line: “Lead on. I’m right behind you.”
6. The Best Is Yet to Come
Opening Line: “I’m home! Happy anniversary, love!”
Closing line: Then again, he’d never been known for his imagination.
7. Relative Bearing
Opening line: Will’s phone pinged quietly in the pocket of his jeans.
Closing line: He’d just have to wait.
8. Harboured and Encompassed
Opening lines: “And when those patrons bring back their materials, make sure nothing’s damaged, mark the item as returned in the system, and give them back their ID. Have you got that?”
Closing line: But it was a start.
9. Turning Over the Sands of Time
Opening line: “Eight,” Archie murmured as the cane in Matthews’ hand struck its target again.
Closing line: They would survive, one day at a time, until the sand ran out.
10. Much Ado about Shakespeare: Love’s Labours Won
Opening line: Archie Kennedy closed his eyes, willing this time to be different.
Closing line: Horatio threw a stocking at him.
Bonus:
Opening line of MLC WIP: Li Lianhua crashed to his hands and knees on the ground as the last trickle of his borrowed qi abandoned him, the densely-packed sand doing nothing to cushion the blow.
Patterns: For opening lines, I definitely have a history of starting with dialogue that hints at the central issue the fic addresses, and I usually start either right when something has changed or with a character who has just reached the limit of what they can handle in a bad situation. For closing lines, I generally tend to use short sentences that are either punchlines if it’s a more comedic fic, reflections on time, change, or growth if it’s more serious (and usually in ways that are commenting on some central aspect of the POV’s character), and almost all of them are in some way about healing and finding comfort/learning to move on after terrible things, or in the more tragic ones, about the inability to move on.
Now the real question is, will I use this newfound knowledge to try to never use these patterns again to avoid being so predictable? Who knows! (Actually, when I realized I usually started with dialogue in 2018, I decided to stop starting with dialogue, soooooo, yeah. Realistically, expect something completely different in future fics, lol.)
Tagging @howdaretrashships, @nutcasewithaknife, @wuxia-vanlifer, @rose-tinted-vision, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, and @enbysaurus-rex (As always, no obligation to do it, and if you see it and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!)
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chocolate
warnings: none, just fluff. Enjoy!
What do you get for the boy on the other side of planet who has everything he could ever possibly want. What do you get the girl all the way back in America who could simply thrift or create whatever she needed.
The answer they both came up with was flowers. Matty’s being a classic romantic and liked red roses. Nora loved daisies and how summery they were. They also decided on dessert deliveries. Matty sent muffins for his muffin and Nora sent him the unreal brownies he loved from her place in New York.
So, now here we are. April 8th, 2017. Matty’s 28th.
Matty woke up that morning in his London home, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. They had started work on the next album, still untitled. Him and George were pulling late nights and drinking too many redbulls. His plaid pants hung low on his hips and he pulled on a robe, his house freezing. Going to make his morning cup of tea, he starts checking his phone for any overnight emails or texts from Jamie… he sees a missed call from Nora from last night at about 10pm - 3am London time. He checks the clock and sees its only about 5:30am there, Nora won’t be up for hours. Other than that, no immediate fires that need to be put out. Sipping his tea, he walks to the front door and grabs his newspapers - all the boys collecting them for album material. He loves these types of mornings - slow, relaxed, sleepy. He just wishes Nora could be with him, she had a work meeting tonight with a friend she had who was interested in commissioning something. She told him she would be getting the next flight out of New York in 2 days. He couldn’t wait. Her presence alone making the concrete house feel warm and comforting - like raspberry iced tea and summer time. He worked on a demo for a few hours and by the time lunch rolled around, his doorbell rang. Who could that be? He didn’t order anything and wasn’t expecting anyone. Matty swung the door open, and didn’t see the royal mail person there. Just a box with a note. Looking around again, shrugging his shoulders and picking up the box wrapped in twine with his name and address in a beautiful caligraphy.
Taking the package up to his kitchen, he unwraps it and the note falls to the ground. He takes the card and unfolds it. He inhales sharply when he recognizes the handwriting.
“To My Matthew,
Happiest of birthdays, Handsome! I am sorry I could not be there in person, but figured in the interim before my arrival you’d like a little piece of me. I love you so much, more than the English language will ever be able to articulate. I organized some things to arrive for you today so hopefully you like them. The first of which is a package of brownies from the bakery you love down the street from me, and before you even ask I did get the oreo ones you go nuts for. Don’t spoil your appetite, handsome… the boys’ll be round later to take you out. Have fun and again, I love you more than you’ll ever know.
Xx always,
Your Nora”
Matty was misty eyed, no-one had ever thought to send him something overseas when he was away. No girlfriend ever going that far for him. Putting that out of his brain, not wanting to get too emotional this early in the afternoon he tore open the box of brownies. The decadent smell of chocolate and candy filling the space around him, Matty thew his head back in bliss. “You’ve done it again, Downey!” He says to the universe - hoping someway she hears him. Munching on the brownie, he calls her.
“Well, good morning birthday boy! Gotten any of your gifts so far?” Her peach sweet voice comes through the line after a few rings.
“And a lovely afternoon to you, Honey! Yes actually, the brownies just came. Half already gone I’d like to report. Best brownies ever! What else is in store may I ask, beloved?”
“Oh, you’re good Matthew. I will be honest, I may have ordered a pack for myself to get delivered to the studio later. They truly are god’s gift to baking. As for the rest of the agenda, that is for me to know and for you to find out. Wouldn’t exactly be a birthday surprise if you knew, now would it, Handsome?”
“No it wouldn’t, Darling… Just know that when June rolls around and I’m locked away in a writing dungeon, I am gonna outdo whatever you have 10 fold.”
“You got yourself a challenge, Handsome.” She smiles. “Okay, I gotta run. I love you baby and happy birthday, I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Okay, good luck, Honey! I love you and am counting down the minutes.”
With that, another ring of the door bell comes as Matty hangs up the phone. Before him he sees a floral van and a young girl nervously holding a delicate bouquet of red roses and what look to be little bits of eucalyptus and white hydrangea. Oh, she knows him way too well, he thinks as he opens the door to the teenager.
“A Matty Healy?”
“I’m him! Thank You, doll. Have a good day!” He says to the girl as he tips her a few pounds and shuts the door softly. He grabs a vase and holds the flowers to his nose, he sighs in content. She really does know him incredibly well, a perfectly beautiful yet subtle arrangement.
Matty enjoys the rest of his day, texting her a picture of the brownie box now empty once the boys came and the flowers in their vase on his kitchen table. He blushed as she sent a kiss emoji and a “all for you, birthday boy <3”. Maybe 28 wasn’t going to be so terrible after all.
June in New York, Nora Downey turned 25 as the clocks struck 3:51am on the 16th.
She awoke quite differently than her other half. She slept through her alarm and wokd up a whole hour later for an appointment with her therapist. Calling the office, she rescheduled for the following day and was told it wasn’t any issue. Deciding to grab some coffee and swing by the local bookstore for her monthly magazine grab. Getting some copies of i-D magazine, DORK, Rolling Stone, British Vogue and British GQ. Heading back home excitedly to read her magazines, she gets a call from Matty.
“Hey baby, hows your birthday going? Doing anything fun today?” She smiles at his voice and the petname.
“Uhh, just heading home to read some magazines and things. Then maybe go to my painting and wine class!” He wishes he could be with her, but things with the album and the guys wanting to go to the countryside for the summer to write and work was just getting a little hectic. He does appreciate though that she is atleast doing something for her day, she raves about these wine and paint classes she started years ago. He still kept his plan of sending her a little something to her apartment, but she must have not seen it yet.
“Oh, that sounds fun! Me and the guys were gonna drive up north today and work at that studio I mentioned last week. Maybe I can facetime later and we can have a little virtual dinner date, yeah?”
“Sounds lovely, Handsome. I’m almost home by the way so sorry if this cuts out or if I go quiet trying to get upstairs.”
“Not a problem, take your time, Muffin.”
Getting to her building and clicking the button for the elevator she is shocked when she reaches her door.
“Healy, what have you done? Oh my god, don’t tell me you actually went through with the thing I joked about in Apri…”
“Oh, yes I did, Baby! Hope you love them, gotta run! Happy Birthday and I love you most!”
“Impossible, Handsome!”
Hanging up, grabbing the gorgeous bouquet of roses and daisies and the box she slides her keys in and kicks the door open. Knocking it closed, she carefully puts down the gifts on her entry table next to her key dish. Running to grab the cold champagne she keeps in case of emergencies from her fridge, a glass and a vase she makes me way back to the entry for the flowers. Setting the vase down on the living room table, she fills it with water and the flowers. Pouring her champagne, getting the box and magazines she sets up her afternoon. Nora goes to her bedroom, slides off her overalls and throws on a flannel shirt she stole from Matty and jean shorts. Gathering her hair in a ponytail and walking back to her idea of heaven, she sits comfortably on the couch. Snapping a picture of her and her treasures, she sends it to Matty - fully knowing its gonna drive him crazy that she’s in his shirt alone in her apartment.
“Couldn’t ask for a better start to 25 xx” She presses send and takes a bite of the incredible chocolate swirl muffins. She couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.
#drew’s writing :)#matty x nora#matty bday week !!#HAPPY BDAY MATTHEW!!!#OFFICIALLY MIDNIGHT HERE :)#Spotify#an encounter
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Whitechapel series 4 press pack
Patrick Schweitzer - Producer
What can we expect from the new series of Whitechapel?
We entered into this series with the remit of making a very visual, very exciting gothic drama on the backdrop of a TV detective show. Caroline and Ben wrote the first and last story with Steve Pemberton writing the middle part, which meant that we had a really great range of stories to play with. Also I think the character arcs that have been introduced across all six episodes will really enrich the texture of the series. Jon East directed the last episodes of the last series and he set quite a high benchmark. His episodes were ‘edge of your seat’ material and so it’s been great fun keeping up that pace.
What about the individual stories in particular?
The first story touches on witchcraft. The second story is about a killer who’s flaying his victims and the final story is about human sacrifice and finding out why bodies are being found in sewers across London underneath Whitechapel.
What role do Buchan and the real historical crimes play in this series?
Buchan plays a big role again in this series. All the research Ben and Caroline do is from true crime events that are inspired by the past. The series has moved from copycat killings to using history as a route to understanding the current crimes. So Chandler is still delving into Buchan’s amazing mind to find out what could be the cause and what’s happened in the past that could indicate clues as to how to find the killer and what is going on in contemporary Whitechapel.
Do you need to be mindful of stories going too far or over the top?
Yes you do have to be mindful. I think because Whitechapel tends to be a world where people want to watch in a suspended reality, we don’t try to give massive reminders of contemporary life. Computers and mobile phones take a back seat, we don’t have huge amounts of car travelling scenes so you stay in this world where you’re able to enjoy the unexpected a little bit more. I think that’s always been a real strength of the show that we’re carrying on with this year. The way our characters interact as well, instead of it being a very contemporary police procedural show we get to play with those elements far more so hopefully everyone is going to enjoy that.
Does this series cover anything from previous episodes?
We don’t tend to touch on previous stories too much, so that each story can be fresh. If you’re a regular fan you may notice hints of previous situations that the characters have been through but we tend to take each episode as a fresh piece of drama. If you’ve never watched the series before you can pick up any of the stories and just enjoy it for what it is – I think that’s quite a strength and we try and stay focused on that. In terms of character development we’re very mindful that there needs to be a development in each character’s story but it’s not a main emphasis at all.
Will there be any famous guest stars in this series?
We don’t tend to go with big names for guests stars, I think partly because if a viewer is aware that at some point we’re going to introduce the killer you don’t want anyone to be too obvious and to stand out. We just want really good actors and people that will fit into the world of Whitechapel and we’re very free to use the best actors for the role.
Why was the area of Whitechapel chosen?
Ben and Caroline have created this ‘world’ of Whitechapel that I think is beyond the specific area of Whitechapel itself. Everything that happens has a darker leaning but
it does stem from the history of that part of the East End, which has had a slightly higher percentage of crime over time. I think what makes the series more interesting is that we want to go for the wackier events that might happen.
Are all of your locations in the East End or do you cheat?
Some of it is cheated, obviously if there is a good location in another part of London then we do tend to go for the best places. Using Hornsey Town Hall as our police station is a prime example. This building has been fantastic this series. It’s the same physical space as series one and three but we’ve re-done it. We’ve created a slightly different mortuary set and we have an inter faith prayer room. We’ve also created a few more corridors so that the journeys around the police station take a bit longer. It’s been a real blessing to have this building - it is listed so anything we do, any changes have to go through the council, but we’re very used to that.
Is all of your post production set up here too?
Yes, part of the joy of working in a building like this is that you can actually house your edit suites in the same space. Quite often on other projects I’ve worked on the edit is in Soho and the main sets out in Ealing so everything is quite separated. Here we have everything in one hub which means in the canteen you’ll have the editors sitting next to the DoP and actors. So it’s a great creative environment to be in where everyone feels very attached and involved in the project. Also for my job it means I can pop upstairs, have a look at where we’re at in the edit and then nip back downstairs and carry on prepping for the last block – so it makes life a lot easier and makes the process feel quite fluid.
Is it difficult to film in central London?
Luckily a lot of places that were needed in the script weren’t the most populated areas. To keep London as a successful filming city we really believe that you have to comply with the regulations. It’s only reasonable to ensure that film crews wrap by a certain time as it can be quite noisy and disruptive. I think with any restrictions, whether it’s monetary or time frame to shoot something, it makes sure everyone is on board with getting the best results.
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