#I’ll put my rose coloured glasses back on to finish this children’s book but I will be wearing them on the end on my nose | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

Text

below the surface | sam taylor

word count; 9022

summary; sam admires your fire, the two of you are good friends, and he just wants to help free you live to your fullest potential.

notes: there is some slightly odd themes here, but it was the norm for those times, so you’re just going to have to accept them, it really makes the story, so go with it.

warnings: smut, some misogynistic themes, verbal abuse.

Sam Taylor liked the 1920’s, far more than he ever liked the prospect of the 2020’s. He liked the simplicity of his life, he liked the friendly atmosphere, he liked watching history unfold, but most of all, he liked the woman he had first become acquainted with two years ago.

It had taken him a little while to settle down, to find a home and build a business for himself, and the ‘roaring twenties’ that he was oh-so-fond of were definitely picking up their speed. It all felt very Gatsby-esque to him, and a year after his arrival in the time, he’d returned to the speakeasy he’d once visited with Evelyn. It had taken time for that wound to heal, and he felt that being able to return to the place he once treasured with her might be the final step for him to be able to close that chapter of his life, and move onto another one.

The speakeasy itself wasn’t actually where he had met you. Actually, it had been a few roads over, when he’d been drawn to the sounds of shouting and laughter, and he’d found you shouting at a group of younger men, who couldn't have possibly been more than their late teens, who were leering at you and trying to grab onto you. He hadn't even had to do anything, he had arrived to help but you had taken care of it yourself, shaking your head and mumbling about stain removing when the blood of a now broken nose stained your white glove, the group looking shocked, and then appalled, before running off with their bleeding friend and spitting insults at you.

“Well, go on then!” You had spun to face him, eyebrows raised and one gloved hand, one bare hand, sitting on your waist as you waited for him to speak, and he merely raised an eyebrow at you. “Tell me how unladylike I am, how I shouldn’t be out alone, or how I’ll never find a husband with an attitude like mine? I’d bet you a half dollar that you couldn’t tell me anything that I haven’t heard before.”

“I was going to say I think that was rather impressive, actually.” You had stared at him, eyes narrowed for half a second, before you’d been opening the clutch purse in your hand, shoving both gloves inside of it and producing a small silver coin, held out to him in the palm of your hand. “Nobody has ever told you how impressive it is that you can stand up for yourself before?”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, sir, but women are supposed to be seen and not heard.” You spat out the words distastefully, and he let out a small laugh, ducking his head and taking you hand in his, curling your fingers back around the coin in refusal to take it, but he could already see another argument building back up within you at the rejection of the token.

“Well, if I hadn't have heard you, I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you, and I’m rather glad I did.” He held out his hand, introducing himself formally and waiting as you studied him once again, before offering your name in return. “How about you use that bet to buy me a drink, hm? I know this great little spot below the surface.”

“You’d let a woman buy you a drink?”

“I’d let you buy me several, but I do believe in equality, so if you’d let me keep your company for longer, I will be insisting that we take turns on the purchases.” That had earned him a genuine smile, and he took your hand in his and placed it into the crook of his elbow, guiding you down the streets towards the only little store with the lights still turned on.

“I suppose you’ll know somewhere that sells a real drink, do you, Mr Taylor?”

He flashed you a cheeky grin in response, insisting that you call him Sam, even with all the formalities of the time, because clearly you didn’t play by your own eras rules, and he liked that a lot. Holding open the door to the shop, you stepped in ahead of him, the owner looking up at both of you cautiously, a brow raised as he paused in his movements for wiping down the counter.

“We’re closed, what are you looking for?”

He cleared his throat, sparing you a glance before he was stepping forwards. “Cabbage.” Some dead silence hung in the air, and a slight warmth rose to his cheeks form the very moment the ridiculous codeword had left his mouth.

“I’m sorry, you’re looking for what?”

“Y’know, cabbage?” He nodded his head towards the door he remembered from last time, and the shop assistant looked between him, back to you, before him once again, and you sighed, your hand landing once again on his upper arm as you came up to stand behind the counter by his side.

“Do you have any red linens?”

The man seemed to catch on, his lips flicking up at the sides, and Sam’s cheeks only grew darker in colour as the two of you were guided away toward the stairwell hidden in the back of the store, the speakeasy concealed below. Once the door was closed behind you, your forehead had pressed to his arm, a series of small giggles leaving you and he let out a playful huff as you did.

“That’s an old phrase, it’s changed every six months to keep it from spreading too quickly.” You confided, and he hummed, pushing the coding to the back of his mind to be remembered until it was changed once again.

“You’ve been here before, then?”

“I can be found at this bar every Thursday, my father likes to spread the word about having a daughter of age with a dowry to boot, ready to be married off.” Your words had turned bitter at the end, and Sam had sighed, shaking his head and offering you a frown, but he wanted to keep the mood lighter, as he was enjoying your company.

“So, if I happened to be here on a Thursday evening, I might find you here, too?”

“You just might, Sam. Now, how about that drink?”

Meeting you at the bar on Thursday nights had rather rapidly become a constant in Sam’s life, he counted down the days and hours until he could see you again, to listen to you excitedly talk about your week as you sipped on gin at the bar and let you ramble about the book you had been reading, or the story you’d heard from your friends, or simply the new and fleeting hobby you had picked up and dropped in the last few days.

You were wild, and interesting, and you made the transition from the 21st Century to the beginning of the 20th so easy for him that he barely noticed anything different when he was with you. You were like a little drop of home in his week, and he couldn't help the easy flow he’d taken from friendship to something a little flirtier with you, and he liked the way you joked back, cheeks rising with red and jaw dropping when he whispered in your ear and held you in a way that was just a little risky for the time period he had found himself in.

He liked it when you’d dance with him to the music playing, and he liked it when you’d hum along to the songs being sung. He absolutely loved it when you rested your head on his shoulder and let out little sighs of tiredness when they night moved on and you let him hold you a little tighter to keep you on your feet as you waited for your brother or father to be ready to escort you home when they were finished posturing and proving themselves to the other men in the club.

Spring had bled into Summer, into Winter, and your friendship had only become stronger. He had met your father, and your brother, and he was never approving of the scowls they wore when you let out loud and obvious huffs of indignation when you were called over to meet a possible new suitor, or when you were shown off by them as some kind of prize to be won, only to mouth off and prove that you were far more than a pretty face.

You were stubborn, and strong-willed, and you didn’t conform to the stereotypes that your time had laid out. He saw you during the feminist rallies in the town, holding handmade signs high and shouting for equal rights at the top of your lungs, with absolutely no idea that your movement would be something that children would be learning about in their history lessons a century from now, taught by a female teacher with independence and equality, and he watched on proudly each time.

He had met your mother on the days he had been fetching his groceries from the farmer’s markets, rolling your eyes at the older woman as she tried to tell you recipes to remember and tips to make you an agreeable wife that you had downright refused to commit to memory.

Two years passed, and he watched as the new decade was ushered in, everything from the 10’s being swept away as old news as the 20’s came barrelling in, and style from the notorious New York City had taken over. You had a wardrobe full of tasselled dresses that fell around your knees and rode up when you crossed your legs to reveal the softer skin of your thighs, and you had pearl necklaces that fell down into lower necklines, and lips painted red with curled hair, and fuck, Sam really did love the twenties.

He loved going home and finding the print of your red lipstick printed on his cheeks from where you had bid him goodnight each Thursday in the early hours, and he liked the tint your cheeks got as your slightly tipsy form wobbled when you tried to pretend you hadn't been drinking, acting the good girl in the streets to follow the laws of the oncoming prohibition.

Two years in had brought a lot of changes since the night Sam had met you. The prohibition had made the speakeasy an even more lucrative spot to be included within, poker tables and cigars with whiskey glasses clinking below the streets, passers-by completely unknowing as to the activities that were taking place below. It had brought a wealthier crowd, elites and upper-class, only those who could afford to pay for the right to know the password at the door, and your father had only put more pressure on you to find a husband.

You were two years older, moving towards your mid-twenties, and of a prime age to bear a child for whichever man your father chose to give you away to. He was happy with the crowd that the speakeasy brought around, gambling from men with a lot of coin to throw down onto the table and options that would undoubtedly bring a high price for your hand in marriage.

In turn, you were acting out more and more, causing every option your father had found for you to end up turning their nose up and sneering as they muttered about finding a girl who could make them a home and raise a child, never bothering to look at what was underneath, never bother to get to know the incredible person below the surface of a woman to be given away.

You were seen less and less, from every Thursday to one Thursday a month, your father choosing to leave you at home in favour of talking you up in order to confirm a deal before you had a chance to ruin it, and yet Sam attended faithfully every Thursday, just in the hopes of seeing you. Your flame was being dulled, the rallies were quieter without your voice shouting out with the rest, his shopping trips were duller when he couldn't catch sight of your playful faces and rolled eyes as he moved between the stalls near you, and his days were empty without ever getting to catch glances of you, or talk to you late at night after your family had gone to bed and you called him on the telephone attached to his kitchen walls.

Your smile wasn’t as bright, your shoulders were slumped and your fashion sense had reverted back to that of the dresses he knew of mother’s to wear, but he never missed the longing looks you gave to the girls who would flounce about in tassels and pearls and sequins, dancing and singing and having fun, and he hated that you no longer told him excitedly about your day, instead forced to stay by your father or brother’s side as the night progressed on. Each time you were questioned by another man, he got to see a brief glimpse of your slowly drowning personality, his lips flicking up at the sies when he heard your sarcastic and snippy retorts, soon quieted by your father’s growling voice over the top of your own.

That was how Sam had found himself peeking at you from his seat at the table, watching you subtly as you stood off to the edge of the bar with you brother, picking at the uncomfortable edges of your corset dress as you pulled it out each time you wanted to take a deep breath, your eyebrows pinched as a fake smile sat on your cheeks and your hands formed fists as your kept them held in front of you like a lady always should.

Your father was angry, he was talking about the latest tantrum you’d had, having caused such damage to your car by driving when you weren’t permitted to and had no idea how to, that he had to fork out to have it prepared, almost as much as the car had cost him in the first place when he’d won it on an auction, new parts having to be brought in to fix it, and he was fuming, even as he laid down yet another stack of notes onto the table for betting with.

He felt your arrival before he saw you, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as the dragging of your almost floor-length dress between the chairs sounded and your arm brushing his shoulder oh so lightly, the kind of friendly greeting you gave him now, as he was certain your family had forbidden you from being seen with him in fear it would drive away other men. He risked a glance up, your back to hi as you approached your father, but you offered him a fleeting smile when you turned, your eyes meeting his for barely a second before you were facing your father once again, gaze flicking over the lusting gazes of the other men around the table, before clearing your throat.

All you had asked for was another money to buy another drink, but your father having just lost yet another hand and more money, seemed to reach the end of his tether.

“You would ask me for even more money, as though you haven’t already drained me of enough simply by being born into the godforsaken world?” His glare was fixed on you, cold and icy, and your jaw dropped, eyes narrowing on him as you prepared to fight back, but he was already pushing on with such rage that your mouth had snapped shut and your eyes had widened as you swallowed thickly, and Sam felt his own free hand clench into a fist as the cards in his other bent a little from the force at which he was gripping them. “You disappoint me, time and time again by refusing to act like a woman, by failing to find yourself a suitable husband, and now you want to take even more from me?”

“I just wanted a dri-”

“You just want everything, you selfish brat! Be quiet, stand still, and look pretty and let’s just hope that you can do something right for once, and find yourself a husband soon, so that you are no longer my responsibility to care for!” His nostrils were flaring and cheeks heated, face so red he resembled a tomato, and his shouting only came to an end due to being shushed by the owner in fears that he was actually so loud that people above in the streets may hear the commotion.

The room had been deathly silent for almost a minute after, all eye son the little table Sam found himself sitting at, and your head was ducked down from embarrassment, your fingers anxiously tapping at your leg, before the gazes seemed to move on and the band continued with their singing once again, the room taking it’s chatter back up and returning to normal after witnessing such an outburst.

“Your daughter is out of control.”

It was the first word spoken, and Sam’s own angry glare shifted to that of the man two seats down form him, yours and your father’s following, and Sam swore when he turned to look at you, he could see the last bit of yourself breaking within you s you were worn down further and further by the oppressive nature of the men surrounding you.

Floodgates had been opened, and before he knew it, Sam was sitting at a table full of jokes about your chances of never settling down, men picking fun at you and continuing to leer at you, stuck somewhere misogynistic comments about your body being all you were good for, and he felt sick as he watched your father chuckle and comment how he wished one of them would take her off of his hands even if that was all they wanted, and anger swelled within him as each and every one continued to deny that they would ever risk marrying you, fear of your boldness making them reject you, and he couldn't take it anymore, your father’s ramblings about never finding someone to take your hand being the final straw.

You may not have been the picture-perfect wife for any of these men, but you were absolutely perfect in his own. You were loud, and opinionated, and not afraid to argue with your own knowledge and facts when the two of you had debates. You were educated, and well-read, and had a sense of humour to match his own. You liked to adventure, and take risks, and you weren’t afraid to get angry when you needed to be. Your soul wasn’t one that was supposed to be dampened, but should instead be allowed to flourish. You were his best friend, his only real friend, and you were everything that mattered to him in this world, everything he had here with him.

You reminded him of his family and friends that he had lost when choosing to stay, you reminded him of everything he had once dreamed of in a woman, and he refused to let you be lost to the mainstream of dull women who were more like possessions than people, because he would be damned if he let one more comment about how you would never have a truly happy marriage or fulfilled life fly by, just because they were unable to appreciate how truly brilliant you were.

It was derogatory and rude, and borderline verbal abuse as he watched you curl in on yourself more and more with each comment, and he just couldn't take it anymore. Not the unhappy look on your face or the frown on your lips, or the way your eyes were cast downwards because even though you acted strong, he was certain you were breaking a little more with each unkind comment thrown your way.

He slumped a little in his chair, letting out a deep sigh and swirling the glass in his hand a little. “I would marry your daughter in a heartbeat.”

The table fell into a dead silence around him, and he raised the glass up to his lips, holding his face neutral and steady as he looked at his cards, enjoying the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat as he finished off the glass and placed it on the table.

“Can you repeat yourself there, son?”

“I said-” He didn’t intend for his words to come out growled and as menacing as they did, but he couldn't help it, and some of the other men around the table even had the good graciousness to look a little startled at his response. “I would marry your daughter. I think any man would be lucky to call her his wife, so I repeat to you, that when you made a claim that no man would marry your daughter, you were wrong, because I would marry her without hesitation.”

He shuffled the cards in his hands, arranging them better to suit him as he looked at the game, and the man looked positively taken aback, somewhere between horrified and ecstatic, before clearing his throat in a scrabbling attempt to seem dignified. “She has no dowry, and she would not make an agreeable wife.”

His tone read clearly that he was desperate to hand her off to the first bachelor to offer even a shred of willing, and yet with all the other eyes of the gentleman at the table around him, he was trying to hold his respect, unknowing that Sam had absolutely none for him at all, but he liked the pressure your father was now feeling to try and gain the bargain, as though you were a possession to be exchanged.

He took a long moment, finally moving his gaze up to you, his lips flicking up at edges in a hint of a smile to ease your nerves. Your eyes were wide and lips pressed into a thin line, your expression seemingly unreadable, but those creases of worry between your eyebrows were gone and the pinched expression from trying your best to keep your thoughts to yourself had slipped away, despite offering him no reading of how you felt about it all. He could see the way your posture had slumped a little as you relaxed, your palms smoothed out against your sides instead of clenched in fists, and your shoulders were rising and falling in steady rhythms instead of jerky breaths.

“She doesn’t need a dowry, she has more than enough to offer on her own. I don’t need to be bought to want to know her.”

It was another few minutes of rigid and tense silence, whispered comments going around the table between the older men as though they were teenage girls on a schoolyard, before loud and jovial laughter was released from your keeper, his palms slamming down on the surface so forcefully that the table wobbled and poker chips clinked and tumbled from their stacks, but he continued to sit unfazed, staring forwards, as you now looked between himself and your father in shock.

“All me to buy you a drink, and to thank you, despite not knowing why you would take on such an unruly woman.” Your father fished into the leather of his wallet to hand over a few coins to you. “I’ll buy you one final drink, and you can fetch one of the man who is taking responsibility for you.”

You stood stock still for a moment, before setting yourself into jerky movements, stepping away from your father and offering him a quiet ‘thank you’ before making your way to Sam’s side, normally warm and kind eyes peering down at him cautiously and calculating, and he rolled his head back to look at you, trying to give you the most reassuring look you possibly could as he spoke his preference to you, nodding as you stepped away from him and towards the bar, but not before reaching for the empty glass on the table in front of him and taking it with you.

You were quiet the when you returned, barely responding to the thanks he had offered you when you hold your drink out to him, choosing instead to quietly sip at your own gin and stan behind him, one hand rested delicately on his shoulder as you studio behind him, shielding yourself from your father and watching on wordlessly as the men gambled and played cards for a further few hours into the night.

Sam was on a winning streak, a lot of chips sitting before him, stacks of notes and coins sitting in the centre of the table that he had such a large hand out of that he would barely be able to count it, more in one night than he would earn from his little company in over three months, the kind of money that made his gut twist and his head spin, and the game was being called to an end while he was still sitting wealthy, before the inevitable pride of having so many chips got to his head and he lost them all.

As he gathered up the money being split out to him, ignoring the drunken complaints of the men around him and taking his winnings, he knew it would be a while before he was invited back to the tables, and a while before their bruised egos healed over losing such sums to someone so young. He’d been playing since he was about twelve, and he was incredibly good at the game, what could he say?

You were still suspiciously quiet, even when everybody was milling out of the small shop for the night and standing in the cold night air, breath billowing around them in the cold air, and his fingers found your wrist carefully, pulling you aside, your lips still sealed shut as he watched you imploringly shuffle from one foot to another, itching uncomfortably in your corset.

“Are you okay?”

“I am perfectly content! I am to be married, to a respectable man, and I am just grateful that it is someone I know, I am just dandy.” You offered him a forced smile, that to anyone that didn’t know you as well as he did may believe it to be real, but that was the problem. He did know you, and those weren’t your words, or your attitude, and that certainly wasn’t a genuinely happy smile on your behalf. He was prepared to question you on it, to ensure you that it was okay, but your eyes were flicking fearfully over his shoulder, before moving back to his, a slight glisten in them as they narrowed, and he turned his own head to look.

A sigh left his lips, and his jaw snapped shut out of irritation, your father standing only feet away, clearly listening in to the conversation, and Sam let an arm snake around your waist like he had done so many times before, this time trying to shield you from the drunken elder that was looming over the pair of you. “I see you and my daughter are already growing acquainted.”

His eye dropped down in a wink that made Sam’s stomach twist with nausea, and you moved slightly further into his side, a thought that made him preen a little internally, knowing that at least you trusted him, to keep you safe and to try and do right by you.

“She may go home with you, she should know the house she will be living in and maintaining. Tomorrow at noon, we will meet to discuss the details of your wedlock, but I’ll be going home now.” He waved a hand to silence of the pair of you before either of you had even spoken, leaving you to back away from Sam and tremble on your own, both of you watching slack-jawed as he walked away, leaving you both alone in the street.

“Sam..”

He was only torn from his staring of the man’s retreating figure when your voice, lighter and shakier than usual, drifted to his ears and pulled his focus to you. Your face was scrunched up in a scared expression, something he never wanted or see again on your face, and he swallowed thickly before nodding, and setting a hand on your lower back, trying not to startle you as you began to process everything that had happened or you in the last few hours.

The walk was quiet, your feet scuffing the floor, and he spared the occasional glance over at you as he allowed you time to take in all that had occurred. Your face flicked between shocked, to sad, to angry, and back to neutral, keeping every single one of your thoughts locked inside yourself, keeping everything quiet.

The only noises were the occasional brush of your feet beside his on the floor, the drag of you shoes on the stones as you made your way up along the long and winding path to the renovated house he was proud to call his home, and the jingling of the bundle of keys that he pulled from his pocket, your foot tapping anxiously on the ground as he undid the several locks on his front door, before holding the heavy wood out to him.

You had never seen the inside of his home before, it had never been appropriate for him to invite you inside, and now, it was where you were going to live. Maybe he hadn't quite thought this through, but he didn’t have a chance to follow that thought across before the door was closing behind him, our hands clenched by your sides as you watched him bolt them back up for the night, and finally, you snapped.

“What gives you the right, Sam Taylor? To step into my life and decide to take charge, hm?” You barely missed a beat, his brows raising at you, and while he knew all of this anger was entirely directed at him, he was willing to let you get all you pent up rage out of your system, even if it did involve you screaming at him. “I will not be your property, and you should have known me well enough to understand that! I don’t want to be a housewife who cowers in submission! This is the 20th Century and women should have rights, I don’t want to be a chattel for you to use as you please!”

He had to bite his cheek at your phrasing, hearing a girl shout ‘this is the 20th Century’ while talking of rights was something he may never get used to, but he waited until you were huffing out a breath and crossing your arms over your chest, cheeks red and eyes filled with a raging fire. It was a fire he had missed seeing in you, one he wanted to let roar instead of extinguishing, and when he was certain that you had finished, he let out the breath he was holding.

“I don’t want to own you, or force you to be something that you aren’t. You can be whoever you want to be with me. You don’t have to wear these ridiculous corsets that clearly make you uncomfortable, and you don’t have to bite your tongue when you want to speak, and you certainly don’t need to be anything less than a proud and strong woman of the 20th Century.”

His lips flicked up at the edges as he said the words, a very slight smirk on his face, and your entire body seemed to sag out of relief when you looked at him, checking him to see if he was really telling you the truth, and finding that he was.

“I want you to have your freedom, and you always have with me.” You were quiet, but nodding slowly and taking slow and deep breaths, before averting your gaze from his, picking at your nails as you suddenly seemed to find the wooden floors much more interesting than him. Instead, he busied himself with kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat, taking out the stacks of money from his pockets, sifting through it all to count how much he had actually claimed. “How much was your dowry?”

He’d hear you following behind him, neatly taking off your heels and placing them tidily on the shoe rack beside his front door, hanging your thin coat up beside his, but you didn’t speak to him again until he had asked you the question, your throat clearing and voice stumbling over your words in stuttered and broken sounds when you spoke. It was in mumbles, an amount he barely caught before processing the noise you had made and he thought it through. It was almost as much as his winnings, and he made a proud and sure noise in the back of his throat as he pushed the collection of papers and coins across the counter towards where you were idling, your eyes following the pile but you never once moved.

“This is approximately that much, and it’s yours. I don’t want you to feel like you need to rely on me, you can go where you want and do what you please, I’ll just be here if you need me.” He took a tentative step toward you, smiling to himself when you didn't step away from him, before he ducked his head and brushed his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss, bumping the tip of his nose against your temple as he pulled away. “There are two guest rooms, you can choose either that you like, and you can wake me if you need anything. Goodnight, darling.”

It was at least a half-hour before Sam heard the soft knock at his door, and he had been pulling back the several layers of blankets sitting on his bed, the robe he’d been wearing already hung back up, only a pair of pyjama pants were clad on him now, a single candle lantern flickering on either side of the bed.

He had to resist the urge to tell you just how modern you looked when you stepped into the room, smiling at him gently around the door, your feet now bare on the cool wood slats and your legs exposed, all the way up the soft and flimsy shorts he owned, almost swamped by one of the off-white undershirts he often wore for warmth, the sleeves covering your palms.

He offered a smile, taking a seat amongst his pillow and tucking his sheets around himself as you stepped further into the bedroom, the door falling shut behind you with a soft click, and he took a moment to take you in. Your hair was taken out of its up-do from earlier in the day, sitting around your shoulders in loose waves and tangles, marks in the hair form all the pins that had been used to hold it up, and your skin was cleaned of eyeliner and red lipstick, looking far more domestic than he’d ever had the privilege of seeing you in before.

“You know, you are just terrible at doing your washing. I think this shirt and this pair of shorts may have been the only clean items in that basket that were also dry.” Your joke was immediately enough to break the tension, and he huffed out a laugh, settling back a little further and slumping down into his pillows.

“I’ve never been any good at my washing, I just accept it however it turns out.” You made your way across the room to him, standing by the side of his bed and avoiding his eye as you instead took a few moments to take in the simple detailing of his bedroom. There was nothing judgemental about your look, instead, you were simply observing, committing it to memory, before your gaze was flicking to the patch on his top blanket that he picked at anxiously, loose threads hanging from it.

“You don’t know how to sew, either?”

“I always poke my fingers with the needles, and it always turns out a mess. When it gets bad enough, I will just buy a new one.” That answer made you frown, and you took a seat on the edge of the bed beside his legs, dropping your hands down into your lap and staring at you bundled fists intently.

“I may not be as much a lady as men would like, but I do know how to do stitch, and wash clothes. I can also cook and clean.” Your shoulders sagged a little, but the smile you offered him may have been small, but it was at least genuine, he could tell from the honest way you met his eyes as you did, exposing your soul to him easily. “I’ll try my hardest to be a good wife for you, Sam.”

He slipped his hand across the sheet, resting a large hand over your smaller one, and squeezing reassuringly, causing you to look up from your lap and hold his gaze. “I don’t want you to be what you think everyone else wants, I want you to be you. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s cook. I’m good at that, I make a very good meal out of very little, my mother taught me.”

“But, it’s my job t-”

“It’s not your job to do anything that you don’t want to. We can split the jobs between us.”

You stared at him, for a good few minutes, and he almost felt himself shrinking under your stare, before you were getting to your feet and smoothing out the creases on the bed sheets where you had been sitting. He thought you would leave, that you would be moving away from him and back out into the corridor, but instead, you were rounding the bed and lifting the sheets carefully, settling yourself beside him and moving away from the edge of the bed, closer to the warmth his body provided. “Is this okay?”

“This is okay.” He nodded at you dumbly, watching as you fluffed your pillows and blew out the lantern on your side of the bedroom, the smell of wet candle wax and smoke filling the air as only the one flickering candle kept he room alight, a soft glow that left only this section of the room illuminated, almost everything else cast into darkness.

“I like to make clothes, so I don’t mind doing your sewing too, you don’t have to buy new garments each time they tear. I also like gardening, I noticed that your front garden didn’t have many flowers, and it was rather untidy.”

“You can do anything you want with the gardens, I think anything would be an improvement.”

“Can I plant flowers?” You were looking up at him through your lashes, anticipation clear on your features, and he grinned, lifting a hand to tuck some hair back behind your ear and cup your jaw, running his thumb over your cheekbone tenderly.

“You can do anything you want with the gardens.” You were happy now, he could feel it in the way you leaned into his touch a little, before you were moving onto your side to face him, and he simply rested both of his hands on his stomach, linking his fingers together and waiting for more of your questions.

“Do I have to wear corsets?”

“No.”

“Do I have to clean for you?”

“No, we’ll share the cleaning.”

“Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

He paused, looking at you and swallowing the lump in his throat, before nodding at you and trying to relax from the way his body had stiffened. “If you’d like to.”

“I would.”

You shuffled a little closer, taking one of his hands in yours and moving it away, before linking your own fingers with his instead, resting your body down beside him on the mattress and pressing your head against his pillow, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as your body pressed up to his side, and your heartbeat began to match his as it thumped against your chest, pressed or his ribs.

He liked it, and he could get used to the feeling of having your body pressed up beside his in the bed, keeping him warm in the winter, and giving him the company he had missed for so long. You were his best friend, one of the best friends he’d ever had - in either era - and the thought of getting to have you by his side in any way, was more than enough to make him happy.

He didn’t care what became of your relationships, he had done what he did in order to liberate you from the oppressive nature of your father, to help you find freedom and live the life you wanted while being happy.

If he got to leave his family to gain the life he wanted and live happily, then you deserved the same, and he would do anything to make it happen.

He was just reaching for the little cup to extinguish the candle when your hand caught his wrist, pausing his actions and bringing his hand back toward you, your body sitting up once again, and he waited, your jaw opening and closing as you tried to find your words. You faced him more fully, sitting up and letting the sheets fall away, shuffling toward him until your knees were brushing his leg, and he sat himself up a little further, confusion beginning to seep into him as he took in the nervous expression on your face.

“May I ask you to do something for me?” He offered a silent form of his affirmation, and you moved a little closer, shaking hands coming up to hold onto his cheeks. “Nobody has ever kissed me before, and if we’re going to be married, you will be the only person who ever has. I would like to know what that feels like.”

“You want me to kiss you?” This time, it was your turn to give a silent form of understanding, nodding you consent to him and his lips tilted up at the corners. “You’re sure you want that?”

“Sam, I’ve always found you attractive, but tonight you sacrificed everything just to make me happy, and you are like no man I have ever met. I would very much like for you to kiss me.” You were nervous, colour crawling up your cheeks, and he licked over his lips, feeling his own skin heat up as he watched you. Your eyes were wide, lips a little parted and face flushed a charming colour, and in this minute you looked so pretty that Sam swore you may be the angelic woman he’d ever seen.

Placing a hand on the bed beside you, he leaned over, lowering himself down until he could drag the tip of his nose across yours, your breath washing over his lips with each small and shallow breath you let out, your eyes fluttering closed and lashes brushing his skin as he copied the motion. Your forehead was pressed to his, so close now that he could taste the gin still lingering on your lips, and with that, he closed the distance between you both.

Softly at first, his mouth pressed to your own, lips sealed in a sweet peck, and he felt the intake of breath you took in a gasp through your nose, before he was dragging his lips with your own in delicate patterns, feeling you press back with hesitation, unsure in your movements but eager to learn, and your hands fell away, one slipping into his hair as the other came down to press to his chest, and you were kneeling up into him.

He wasn’t sure what had happened, or when. He had been intending to keep the kiss brief and chaste, never wanting to push you on anything, but it wasn’t until his back met the bed again and his head was pressing into the pillows that he realised you were now kneeling over him, a leg on either side of his lap and his hands on your waist.

You were letting out little whimpers into his mouth each time the kiss grew a little messier, his lips parting a little further and his tongue flicking out a little more frequently to tease at the seam of your lips, but then your tongue was daring to peek out to play with his own, and he couldn't hold back the deep groan he let out as your tongue dragged across his. The grip he held on your hips only tightened, and your body fell down to press further into his, you nails scraping against his scalp.

“Sam, thank you.” You pressed your lips back to his own, frantic and needy and each time you came back in it was making the heat in the room rise, his palms slipping down to grip at your thighs before he knew what he was doing, but then your hips were rolling down into his, and he was bucking up to press against you, anything to draw out the squeaky little moans and sighs of pleasure you let out into his mouth every time your clit dragged over the growing bulge in his pants. “You saved me, thank you, so much.”

“I just wanted you to be happy.”

You hummed against his lips, rocking down into his hips particularly harshly, both you and him letting out drawn out sounds of pleasure at the feeling, and he had to bite down on his own lip when you pulled back just to stop himself from flipping you over and pressing you down into the mattress. “I am happy with you. You make me happy.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Your hands were pressing to his chest, your hips rocking down into his, and his eyes fluttered shut as you rode up and down over his cock, even through the layers of clothing, and he let out a weak and breathless laugh when a thought about the situation crossed his hazy mind. “You know, this isn’t very gentlemanly of me. We've only been engaged for a couple of hours. What would people say?”

“I don’t care what people say, it feels good.” You whimpered, pushing down firmly and he cursed under his breath, jutting his hips up into you and smirking at the face you made, your jaw dropping down and forming an ‘o’ as silent pleasure left you. He watched you bounce above him, hair framing away behind you as your head tipped back, and he took the chance of your distraction to flip you over, pressing you back oot your side of the bed and caging you in with a hand on either side of your head. “I want to feel good, Sam.”

“I can make you feel good.”

You nodded fervently, and he dragged a hand down over the bare skin of your midriff from where the shirt of his that you were had ridden up, and he dipped his head down to press his lips to your own, catching you in a sweet kiss that made you hum happily at the affections, pressing back just as lovingly.

The tips of his fingers dipped underneath the loose waistband of the shorts you wore, finding that there was no buried the further down he travelled, and he let out a ragged sound against your mouth upon realising that you had discarded of your one underwear when changing into his clothes. The idea of your dripping cunt brushing straight up against his clothes, the idea of you wearing only his belongings to clever yourself, the image of you walking around with him on a lazy Sunday morning and wearing just one of his tops, it was all everything that he wanted with you.

The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit, your hips jerking up into his hand as you cried out at the simple pressure, and he took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth to play with your own, a finger swirled through the wetness that had built between your folds, and he growled into your mouth, nipping on your lower lip until you let out a whine, before sucking at it and licking over the patch to soothe the low sting, distracting you as he pushed a single finger into your dripping core, and your eyes shot open, body going stiff at the intrusion.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“It feels weird, but good, I’m not really sure.” He nodded, peppering your cheeks with kisses and he moved the finger within you slowly, twisting and stretching you out as carefully as he could, and soon your slick was coating that digit and flowing form you each time he pulled out, your juices covering your skin and making it easy for him to slip another finger into you. It was a stretch, and he felt you tense up once again as your eyes screwed shut, but he worked you through it, slow and steady, kissing along you jaw and mumbling reassurances into your ear.

He felt you loosen up, your legs widening for him to settle between and your lips found his again as you let out a happy sigh. A loud and unashamed cry of his name left you, and it may have been the sweetest sound Sam had ever had the pleasure of hearing, you walls clenching around his fingers and hips bucking up, before a sharper and louder sound fell from you. It was almost a scream, and he smirked into your mouth, his whisperings turning to praises as he tried to find that spot again, only a few strokes and he had located the spot, rubbing it surely each time he thrust his finger back into your wet core.

“That’s so good, what is that?”

“Mh, that’s your g-spot, sweetheart, and now that I know where it is, I know exactly how to make you feel good.” He pushed down on the spot roughly, your body trembling as your eyes rolled back and your fingers twisted in the sheets. The material of the shorts was rubbing uncomfortably against his wrist, and he wished he could see his soaked fingers sipping in and out of you greedy hole each time, but for now, this was enough, just watching you reach heights of pleasure you’d never been to before and knowing he was the one taking you there was making his heart race and head spin. “You’re so good for me, honey, so good.”

He was cooing down at you, mouthing at your jaw and neck and licking over your skin in ways that made you squirm and moan, your walls tight around his fingers as you neared your peak. He felt it coming, and slipped his thumb up to toy idly with you neglected clit as an unspoken encouragement to cum, that it was okay for you to let go, and so you did.

Your back arched up, something that almost sounded like a sob leaving you as you core clamped down around the two digits, so tights he could barely get his fingers in and out of you anymore, and he settled for wiggling them and twisting them as he prolonged your peak, choosing to drag it out as long as he could for you. You were panting, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat from the exertion and your chest rose and fell with every gasping breath you took.

He lifted his fingers up to his lips, sitting back on his heels and sucking them into his mouth to clean them, letting out an approving sound as your taste washed over his tongue, addictive and sweet, something he knew he would be craving more of soon, and he just hoped you’d let him.

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t even know. That was amazing.” He beamed, feeling full and prideful as he listened to you talk, and he settled your shorts and top back into the correct place, laying over you and propping himself up on his arms as not to crush you, brushing hair from your face and pecking your nose. “Do you need me to..”

Your gaze left his eyes, moving down to his hips, before coming back up, and you were nibbling on your lower lip, prompting him to duck his head and chuckle, kissing along the clothed shoulder that was within his reach. “No, I don’t. This was about you, there will be a whole lifetime for that.”

“Yes. Yes, there will be.” Your words were spoken with nothing but joy, and he rolled off of you, blowing out the candle and sending the room into darkness, before wiggling himself back under the blankets and making sure you were tucked in securely. He felt you shuffle up, pressing against his side and he wrapped his arms around you, feeling your nose nuzzle into the crook of his neck, his cheek brushing the top of your head when he twisted his body further toward you. “Why are you like no man I have ever met, Sam Taylor?”

A laugh bubbled in his chest, despite the yawn he let out only seconds later, and he rubbed a large hand up and down your back, his eyes sliding shut in tiredness. “You won’t believe the story I’ll tell you over breakfast in the morning.”

“M’kay.” The response was muffled as it was mumbled into his neck, and he barely caught it, choosing instead to soothe himself with the tangle of your legs with his and the steady thumb of your heart in time with his own, the two of you drifting off with only positive thoughts of the future you would soon be sharing to still linger on your mind.

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hs-devote · 5 years ago

Text

5. T H E S T Y L E S

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter :

Harry was accustomed to returning to a house that was always dark, and empty. There was only him, or Suzanne - if she was having work to do . Until that night, Harry was confused when his house did not feel as quiet as usual.

5. THE STYLES

His head tilted to the voice, finding someone who he hadn't met in months, his mother, in his dining room, eating whatever it was with a glass of red wine next to her plate. Harry blinked his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating. No way his mother was in here, travelling all the way from Manchester. She would tell him if she wanted to visit.

“Mum?” He mumbled, much more like to himself while his feet taking him closer. Anne just smiled, raising her glass. “Why come home so late? It's 11.00 pm already.”

The first thing Harry did; hug his mother tightly, feeling so miss her. “What are you doing here? Why you didn't tell me you're here?”

“I just miss my dear son so much. I didn't want to bother you if I called you. Think a surprise would do something, did it?” Anne ruffled Harry's hair. Harry chuckled, letting his arms go. “Definitely.”

Anne took a good look over her son, she hadn't seen him in a few months, but it felt like years. In fact, she could have often to visit Harry, but she knew Harry would spend more time with his work. Harry wasn't someone who prioritize work over his family, no, he was just happy to work hard to make his family proud.

“I met Suzanne earlier and she cooked these delicious meals. Lucky I didn't wait for you in starving. It surprised me that she cooked the recipe that I gave.”

“Oh! No wonder Suzanne knew my favourite food. They were your original recipes, weren't they?”

“I just want to make sure my son always remembers his mother with those cooking recipes!”

Both of them laughed out loud, exchange stories here and there. His mother was a place where he could tell his story without having to care about people's judgement – of course, he wouldn't say something that makes Anne sad or worry. The last thing he wanted in the world was to see the sadness on his mother's face.

“I didn't see Clementia, where is she? Is she coming with you?” Harry asked, his eyes looking around his dining room. But he didn't see anyone but his mother.

“She had fallen asleep in the second room.” Anne shrugged, sipping her wine. “She's in her college break and came home since she was getting bored in Milan. So, I took her here.”

Harry was not the only child in the Styles family. He had a younger sister, Clementia, or used to be he called her Cece. She was a fashion design student in one of the best fashion schools in Italy. Thanks to Harry for successfully persuaded Anne to let her study abroad.

“If she wasn't lazy enough, she could explore the south-west. Really, really beautiful place.”

“She just missed her older brother so much, Harry.” Anne swatted her son's arm playfully. “Are you hungry? I think there are still leftovers for you.”

Harry shook his head, telling her he wanted to take a shower and go straight to sleep afterwards. After bidding her good night, Harry headed to his room.

The sun shone brightly this morning, replacing the moon in the sky. His feet soles froze when stepping on the cold bedroom floor. Harry slowly rose up from the bed, walking out from his room with the sleeping robe that was not perfectly tied, showing a little amount of his chest hair and his swallow tattoos. This morning felt more alive than usual. His mother was cooking while chatting with Suzanne, who helped her for breakfast. Then he found Clementia who was busy capturing the morning view of London from the living room.

He stunned in his spot for a short time, smiling over the nice ambience he rarely felt while living alone in London. This was rare, or almost never, his morning felt warm like this. Harry was accustomed to having breakfast alone, or at least with Suzanne – yet she cleaned the kitchen more often than accompanied him to having breakfast together.

“Why girls love to show off on Instagram like that?” His deep morning voice startled Clementia. Making her yelped in surprise. The girl threw her brand new phone, she tackled her brother in a big hug.

“I miss you so much, H!”

“Miss you too darling.” He hummed, rubbing her back. Anne just smiled, watching the interaction of her children.

“How did you know I was recording it for Instagram?” Clementia asked, releasing his body from her. She dropped her body to the couch, grabbing her phone.

“Because you're now posting in that Instagram story thingy.” He teased, glancing slightly to her screen – which displays Instagram feeds. He could see her icon now circled by pinkish colour.

“I'm amazed by the view! Your living room is insane. I mean, you can see the whole of London clearly as possible through this big glass. Hell, almost all of your living room's walls are glass.” She answered in awe.

“Enjoy while you're in London then.”

“Breakfast kids!” Anne shouted, placing her freshly cooked foods. Pulling his chair, Harry sat at the end of the marble table, his smile wide due to having companies for this morning's breakfast. He muttered small thank you when Anne got his plate.

“Hey, H. Any recommendations place for me today? The weather outside is nice for sightseeing.” Clementia asked while chewing her pancakes. Harry stopped, his pink lips pursed as if he was thinking hard. “If you enjoy some foods, try Maltby Street Market, or walking down the street in Camden or Soho?”

The siblings talked a lot to each other. Harry was the brother who always asks how her sister at school and what she learned while living abroad. While Clementia was a talkative little sister with her enormous curiosity. Anne just listened to them, sometimes talked to Suzanne about Harry's daily life.

After finishing his food, Harry put his plate in the dishwasher and getting ready to the office. Thirty minutes later, he appeared in his work suit. His unbuttoned red shirt clad his fit body, with a black suit jacket hanging on his arm. “I have to go, bye mum, Suzanne, and.. Cece.”

“Hey, how many times I have to tell you don't call me Cece!” Clementia yelled from her seat, making Anne pinch her arm playfully. She shook her head, watching her son closed the door while Cece still ranting.

“Mum, do you think I can pay him a visit in his office?” Clementia mumbled, asking Anne. Her mother just shrugged, “As long as you don't bother him.”

. . . .

Black boots stomped on the floor, eyes fixated straight as she walked into the building. The way she dressed up in a fancy Italian ready-to-wear brand catching every eye. Almost everyone in the room guessing the lady was a model for the way she walked and her clothing taste.

“Hi, I want to see Harry, please.” Her voice made Madeleine snapped her head on her desk. Looking at her from head to toe, not in a rude way. Standing in front of her, a female teenager who looked no more than seventeen years old. What did this little lady want to do with her boss?

“Err, Mr. Styles?” Madeleine asked in uncertainty. Even though this girl knew Harry, Harry might be not knowing her. She could be his stalker. Young people, these days could do whatever they want.

She nodded, “Yes.”

“Do you have an appointment? Can I have your name, Miss?” Madeleine flipped her book, eyes looking up and down her screen. Looking out if Harry had an appointment today.

“Tell him Clementia wants to see him.”

“Please wait. I’ll confirm with him.”

Meanwhile, Harry had Y/N over his office. Both of them were not really working. She made dumplings back at home before she went to the office and she thought it would be nice if she brought Harry her home-made food for lunch.

“You should bring me more homemade meals, you know? I could save my lunch break and do anything while chewing my lunch.” Harry said while clamping the dumpling with chopsticks.

“I think I could do that, something more simple than dumplings.”

“Mhm, this is very delicious.” He chewed, his tongue felt every taste that exploded on his mouth.

“Thank you, Harry.” Y/N nodded, happy that Harry liked her food. She only stared at him while he was eating, he looked really enjoy it.

Incoming call: 628 – Madeleine Brown

“Harry, Madeleine's calling you.” Y/N looked at his ringing office phone, Harry just nodded –gesturing her to pick up the phone, “Just pick up, please.”

“May I? Wouldn't she be wondering?”

“No need to worry, just pick up already.” Slowly, Y/N pick up the phone, saying hello before Madeleine told her someone outside his office wanted to see Harry. The person was waiting while they both talk.

“Harry, someone's want to see you. Madeleine said her name is.. Clementia?” She asked slowly, her eyes looking at him curiously. Hearing Clementia's name made him choke on his food, made Y/N bring his drink to his mouth, hands rubbing his back. She started to suspicious after seeing Harry's reaction. He looked so surprised. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's fine, send her in.”

Y/N told Madeleine to let this Clementia girl in. In thirty seconds, his door burst open. A young girl was no more than twenty years old standing confidently, her eyes squinting at the two of them. Y/N must admit this girl looked so stunning, and rich. Who was this girl? - her inner goddess folded her arms. Her insecurities began to lock her up. Was this his girlfriend?

“I don't know you have a companion, Harry.” She asked, eyes looking at Y/N cautiously. Harry rolled his eyes, “I don't know you're coming either, C.”

“I was going to take you out if you weren't busy, seems I was wrong.” She answered, pulling the vacant seat in front of them. “You don't want to introduce me to her?”

From the way Clementia asked, Y/N could sense a tease there. But she wasn't sure. She just sat next to Harry, didn't know what to do. Harry gathered up his lunch box, whispering thanks while rubbing Y/N's waist. Clementia chuckled, seeing that small – soft gesture her brother gives to this female next to him.

“C, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Clementia – the little sister.” Y/N offered her smile yet relieved smile, Clementia just waved her hand.

“I don't know you have a sister, Harry.”

Clementia widened her eyes, putting her hand on her chest – in disbelief. “You never told her about me? What a shame, Harry.”

“No, never. I just found out now.” Y/N beamed, looking at Harry and Clementia. Her eyes scanned her figure. While Harry has green eyes, she has bright hazel eyes. If she didn't know they are siblings, she would think they were not related.

“From all your dates – intimate time together, or even light conversation, he never talked about me? So sad.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat.

“Your sister looks sad, H.” Y/N mumbled, giving her an apologetic smile.

“I guess.. when you were on a date, I think it would be better to enjoy time together than talked about other people, wouldn't it?”

His sister just smirked right away, just intending to lure him to talk who was the woman in front of her. Clementia always admits her brother's type in women, but this woman seemed different. If usually she saw Harry with famous women. Y/N looked nothing to them. Not in a bad way, of course. She looked professional in her business attire, while she stared at her eyes, she could feel this woman so wonderfully smart – her gaze was soft but firm. When she opened his office door, she expected a girl sat on his lap like usual since his receptionist took a long time in the call. She guessed her brother was busy with someone.

She got her answer. And she liked Y/N already.

“Okay, I'll leave you two.” Y/N took his lunch box before she turned her heels, she threw a warm smile to Harry's sister. “Nice to meet you, Clementia.”

“You too, sist.”

“Oh, Y/N. I forget to return your clothes. Remind me tomorrow morning, yeah?” Harry said before Y/N opening his door.

“Why you don't just come to Harry's home tonight, Y/N? Mum would love to meet you.” Clementia spoke out of nowhere, “We will have dinner and you H, can return her clothes.”

Y/N stopped in her track while Harry was thinking. He would love the idea of Y/N meet his mother. Well, they've dated a few times, sharing kisses here and there. But...

“Sounds lovely. What do you think, Y/N?” He asked Y/N who was staring at the siblings dumbfounded. Meeting his mother? A woman who gave birth to this beautiful creature?

“I don't take a no. I'll let mum knows. Maybe I can take her shopping for dinner. Any food request? Do you have any special allergies, Y/N?” Clementia asked while typing in her phone, Y/N assumed that she's texting with their mother. “Thank you for the invitation, I would love to. But, I don't have any allergies.”

“Perfect then!” Clementia smiled, winking at her. Y/N nodded her head before heading out.

“So, tell me brother. How long have you been dating her? And why you didn't tell me first, at least?” Clementia asked him right away after Y/N closed his door.

“Why do you want to know?”

Clementia rolled her eyes, “It's not like I will threaten her or what. I just being overprotective to you, H. I know you're an adult. But, you were a kid when it's come from a relationships matter.”

“A kid?” Harry frowned, didn't expect himself being taught with a little girl in front of him. But, he was touched when Clementia admitted that she was protective to him.

“Looking back at your relationship history, you were the most heartbroken and disappointed one. I know you don't want to admit it. Just don't make the same mistake.” She said softly, “Okay, back to the question. Tell me about her! I have my own first impression of her but I want to hear from your perspective.”

“She's my assistant, honestly. Her office is next to me if you want to pay a visit.” Harry began, “I knew her for a few months because she's new here. If you really realise, she's the first normal woman I date. She's really nice, and kind. A smart young woman, and very independent of her own. She's beautiful, inside and out.”

Clementia nodded, watching her brother who was smiling himself. Sometimes chuckled on his own.

“What makes her attractive in your eyes. I know she's beautiful and smart, and.. polite.” She asked, “Honestly I was surprised to see her just sat casually beside you. Not trying to be seductive or sexy sitting on your.. thighs.”

“She respects me, and our jobs. She treats me as an ordinary person. She's hard to please, not easy to get.” He smiled, “I remembered one day I took her to have an ice cream date. Well, not really a date because I just told her so after that. The second time I wanted to ask her out, she told me to earn her before she said yes.”

“I was a little surprised because before she was really looking forward to our second date.” He added, shaking his head.

“And what you should earn?” Clementia asked in curiosity. Interested in his story.

“That part was a secret.” Harry grinned, make Clementia let out loud sigh. She didn't like her brother being too mysterious like that, yet she respects their privacy.

“I mean when you really like someone, yet you're confused about how to describe your feelings. Because, there are many things that make it hard for you to explain. Only you and your heart know those feeling.”

His sister nodded, didn't utter any words. But then she laughed when she saw Harry was smiling like an idiot. “I know you're happy, brother. But please don't smile like that.”

“I'm also confused why I can be this happy.” He shook his head, straighten up a bit.

“I guess because you haven't felt this way for a long time.” She hummed, “But I'm glad you're happy now. Just keep that happiness, H.”

Clementia went back to his penthouse after spending two hours in Harry's office. Harry was waiting in Y/N's office as she was getting ready to go. Madeleine has returned home so he didn't worry if anyone was suspicious of them, there was only the two of them here.

“I like your sister, she's such a goofball. But, I never saw her when I came to your home.” She said while stepping out of the lift, Harry's hand around her waist while her hand on his back. They know it was a bit risky if anyone saw them, but since they take the private exit, that was not that matter.

Yes, she was in his penthouse a few times, but she never saw Clementia. Was she busy admiring the luxury of his home? Every time she set foot in there, there was something always catches her attention. She even didn't remember if Harry had some pictures of his family.

“She's currently living in Milan for her study. That girl loves fashion design, so I kinda sent her there. Mum lives in Manchester, so I live alone here in London. It's always me or Suzanne.”

The parking lot was empty. His shiny black Porsche parked in his usual place, the one Y/N never seen in his private lot.

“Get in, darling.” Harry opened the passenger door, letting her climb in first. She grinned while thanking him, and let the door close. She pulled the safety belt over her when Harry climbed into the driver seat, ready to take her home.

The long drive to his home, Harry took Y/N her hands in his while another one stayed on the wheel. Sometimes he squeezed them to searching a comfort, or when he pissed with the traffic. Meanwhile, Y/N was having a thought about their relationship. It had been a few weeks, they constantly got out together if they had time –not always on the weekend. They talked, they laughed, they were holding hands, they hug, they kissed, but Harry hadn't dropped the question she was waiting for.

The car stopped when they reach the underground parking. He parked his car next to his other cars.

“Y/N, wait.” Harry put his hand over her clothed thigh, safety belt still wrapped their torso.

“Yes, Harry?” Her concerned eyes made his stomach churn. Actually, during the ride home, he thought to make their relationship official. Harry really, really liked her – all of her. The dates they'd had made him sure to take the next level. He just hoped that she also felt what he was feeling towards her right now.

Every time he looked at her, he could imagine someday he woke up next to her. Having breakfast together, or making dinner together. Everything above could happen if.. if she would say yes.

“I know we've been going on dates in the past few weeks.” He stopped for a while, made her mind flying everywhere. Did he not want to continue this after tonight? Did he realise that she wasn't what he wanted all the time?

If she wanted to be honest, one day Y/N tried to search his name on Google and it didn’t surprise her there were many articles about Harry. What made her insecure was he dated or even hook up with a few popular models and A-list celebrities.

“This may sound a bit cliché, but it's hard to find the right words.” He chuckled, “I know we only knew each other not too long. Yet, every time I spend with you, every single second we have together – you make me more human, and alive than before. I'm better human when I'm with you. I really love that feeling.” Harry scratched his neck, look nervous than before. His voice deeper in each word. His hand squeezing her thighs, he looked her right in the eyes. “I really, really like you. And I love the idea you're being my girlfriend. I'm excited about what futures may hold. I don't ask you just because we want to meet my mum, no. I think this is the right time for me to be honest with you. It's been weeks and I can't hold any longer.” He let out a relieved sigh, “And I'm mean it.”

After the sentences were spoken, Y/N didn't wait any more to grab his face and kissed him softly. Harry's hand wilding to her jaw, kissed her back tenderly.

“I love the idea of being your girlfriend too, Harry.” She whispered in his ear, making his skin itching in happiness. He smiled, “Good, now you're stuck with me.” and kissed her again. Their kissed getting more intense, Harry's hand eager to unlock her safety belt, feeling that thing held them back.

“Harry, Harry. Your mum and sister waiting for us.” She laughed while pushing Harry's torso softly. He just hummed an okay. She turned the dome light on, looking at her messy appearance in the rear-view mirror. She dug into her bag, finding her lipstick. Harry's hand stopped her when she wanted to apply to her lips.

“Let me.” He picked it and carefully applying the colour on his girlfriend's lips. Whoa, he liked the sound of it. His girlfriend...

Y/N waited patiently, while her eyes stole a glance at Harry. Her man looked so handsome when he was focused on something, but her attention was diverted to his nails that painted with pink glitter.

“That's pretty.” Harry muttered, placing the lipstick back to her palms. Y/N took a look at the mirror, shocking Harry did the job well. No wonder his nails always covered in colours neatly, “Thank you.”

“Mhm, c'mon darling.”

Harry climbed out first before opening the door for her. A small gesture that always made her smile. His hand led her in. The doorman bid them welcome with a warm smile.

“Your hands are shaking.” Harry said while the lift took them up, his right hand wrapped on Y/N's left, tucked them in his pocket. “Don't be nervous, it's just casual dinner.”

“And we're meeting your mum.” She muttered, waiting anxiously to lift stopped. Harry just smirked while squeezing her hand, “She doesn't bite, darling. Just breath.. nice and easy.”

Meanwhile, Clementia and Anne were preparing dinner. Yes, Clementia wasn't really good at cooking, but she could help Anne a little bit. And she was so excited. She didn't stop blabbering while helping her mother.

“You know, mum? I never expect Harry would go for his assistant.”

Anne frowned, wiping her wet hands. “And why about it?”

“No offence. But I kinda happy that he's no longer dating those boring models, you know? Yes, I love to talk about fashion and things but.. it would be more fun if you have a conversation with an educated woman.” She shrugged, picking a grape from its stems and bite it.

“And now you're saying your brother's ex-girlfriends aren't educated?” Anne stared at his daughter with squinting eyes, “Clementia you can't –”

“Mum!” She cried, “It's not what I mean. I secretly searched for her profile on the internet. Not much I got, sure since she's not famous, but what's surprising is.. she was representative of King College for United Nation Youth Forum! Imagine how smart she is.”

“At least you now have motivation for your studies.” Anne laughed, “But, that's creepy you were stalking her profile.”

“I know.” She sighed, “But it's not for bad things, I promise.”

Anne bit her lip, “But does he look happy?”

“I've never seen Harry so happy before. Have you ever seen Harry was smiling alone like a fool?”

“No.”

“Exactly!” Clementia snapped her fingers, looking at Anne. “We will see.”

Y/N never imagined she would be panicking like this, she tried to calm herself down, but she couldn't. Sure meeting your boyfriend's parent was something nerve-wrecker, let alone the relationship just started. What she would think of you? Did you worthily enough for him? Did you fit enough in his life? Y/N thought she would pass out right away if she thought too much about it. She didn't realise they were standing in front of his door already.

“Here they are!” Clementia squealed while she opened the door for them and quickly gave Y/N a hug.

“You must be cooked something special. Its smell delicious from here.” Y/N said warmly.

“Mum made Curry, Shepherd’s Pie, and something still in the cooking.” Clementia answered while winking at Harry. She closed the door as Harry led his girlfriend to the kitchen, finding her mum stirring the pot.

“Hey, mum.” Harry kissed Anne's cheek, “Where's Suzanne?”

“Hi, sweetheart. I let her go home early because I was the one who cooking tonight.” She pinched Harry's cheek playfully, making him groan in annoyed. Y/N just smile watching both of them, reminded her of her mother.

“Hi, dear! I'm Anne, Harry's mother. You must be, Y/N?” She never expected Harry's mother would hug her like they had known each other for a long time. She happily embraces Anne into her arm, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Styles.”

“Oh, shush! Call me Anne.” She smiled gently, “Take a seat. Dinner is ready.”

As usual, Harry took his seat on the edge. Y/N sat next to Clementia since she assumed Anne would take the seat next to her son. But, being the cheeky she was, Clementia shooed her away and said that Anne bored enough sitting next to her brother.

“Clementia said she met you at Harry's office, Y/N.” Anne started the conversation when she saw everyone enjoy her cooking.

“Mhm, I work for Harry – just moved from Swansea office.”

“She's my assistant, mum. The smartest one I've ever had if I may say.” Harry added, bobbing his head. Anne just nodded, “That's surprising.”

That one made Y/N's stomach twist. Was that negative? Or the opposite? She knew that an employee dating their boss was.. weird, and breaking the company rules. Seemed not unprofessional at all. But, when they were at work, they work like usual.. a boss and employee, nothing romance included. They were careful enough when they were together. Her inner goddess told Y/N she should have asked Harry about that thing.

“Not in a bad way, of course.” Anne said when she saw Y/N's face turned slightly uncomfortable. “Tell me, how's work with Harry? He's didn't put you on stress, no?

“Harry is nice. Help me a lot, and a perfectly hard worker. Sometimes we had to stay late in the office, but he made sure that I didn't overwork. We have a lot of work to be done in 24 hours, we help each other to finish on time.”

“She always patient with me. I think her days in college taught her extra patience.” Harry smiled, his hand sneaking down the table, rubbing her thigh in assurance. He could feel her hand on top him. Within a few inches, Anne saw them smiling at each other. Their own eyes speak reassurance. She clearly saw from her son eye's, he was clearly adoring the girl next to her. Something that she hadn't seen for a while.

“Whoa, you were a college girl? Tell me, how did you survive? I just start my semester, but I feel like I just wanna run away.” Clementia asked in awe, maybe Y/N could encourage her sometimes lazy mind to fight with her course. Y/N laughed, definitely understand with her frustration, there were times when she cried all day because she feels overwhelmed over her assignments. “That time I just thought.. don't waste my full scholarship, I was struggling enough to get into Kings' College. My parents are waiting for me to come back home with that degree.”

“King's College? so... she's smart.. smart.” Clementia beamed. Anne playfully jabs her side, “Take a note from her, don't disappoint your brother.”

“I heard you're studying in Milan? How's it there? I really want to visit Italy one day.” She asked softly, staring at Clementia who was grinning widely, “Italy is.. something else. Italy is more romantic than France, no offence! Florence and Positano are my top picks, and Sicily too.”

“Maybe we could visit you someday, C. And having a family holiday.” Harry said as he faced down his cutlery, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Anne nodded in agreement, they haven't spent time together outside for a long time, “You should take a schedule off, dear. Before you visit Clementia, try to visit your mother, bring Y/N too. Manchester is not so far from London.”

“Oh, mum..” Harry chuckled, his eyes stared lovingly to his mother. “Don't make me feel bad.”

“Hey, Y/N. Could you do me a favour to persuade him to visit me often? I believe he would hear you over me.” She winked, ignoring Harry's pleading eyes.

“I'll try my best.” Y/N smiled, giving Harry side-eye.

Dinner was fun. They most likely talked about each other life. Y/N just learnt that Anne had Harry when she was twenty-two, and Clementia is eighteen now. Their father, Igor Styles, sadly passed away two day after Harry's master graduation ceremony due to heart attack – leaving them with growing companies to take care of. Since then, Harry took over his father's companies and work his ass off.

Harry was smiling so hard when his favourites women, his mum, his girlfriend, his sister, could get along quickly. Clementia made him surprised because the girl was so welcome to Y/N. She was usually quite hard to warm to his girlfriends before.

The way her son hold his lady, Anne knew that he was so smitten. She understood that Harry wanted to spend time alone with Y/N because from what she had heard, they often had to rearrange their date because of sudden upcoming work.

She wouldn't be mad because right now Harry prefers to cuddle with other women than her, because Anne would always have Harry by her side no matter what. She just hoped his son would find his final lover soon.

This new Harry was not the same as the old Harry. Anne was used to be met two different women in his arms in a span of three months. And that made her worry.

Harry was an adult, he made his choice and Anne couldn’t do much. She just gave him her advice here and there, especially for settling down.

In Y/N, she believed – but not too much.

From the way she talked, the way she laughed over unfunny jokes that Harry made, the way she’s spoken out about her perspective – her vision. Anne could trusted her.

Earlier simple gestured that the girl showed, she collected all dirty plates and cutlery not worrying about dirty and wet food waste – some women Harry used to date found it gross and refused to cleanse– well all of them were spoiled brat rich people – Anne called. At least she knew Y/N was familiar with housework. Not to forget she was smart enough from the way she responded about the current happening global issues.

She wanted her son to find a modest woman and not using him for their personal advantage. She preferred Harry with someone who was regular than the famous one yet she couldn’t do anything but waste his money.

Anne clearly heard their loud laughter even they were in the balcony. Not knowing what they laughed about. She just prayed she could always hear that from both of them.

“Harry looks happy.” Clementia leaned on the countertop, watching his brother tickling Y/N. “I don’t know this could turn into their date.”

“Let them be, C. I barely see your brother laughing out load.” Anne snickered, “Have you taken her clothes? Harry was asking you, wasn’t he?”

“Haven’t yet, I don’t know where he put it in his room. I wanted to ask, but I don’t want to bother them.”

“Let me dig his wardrobe then.”

Anne opens his son's bedroom – looking at all grey-brown theme. His bedroom smells like Tonka bean and Cedarwood. She could identify Y/N's folded clothes on his bed, who else if it's not hers. Anne grinned when she found a photograph of her family in his wall. She spotted a few medicine bottles on the nightstand. Her curiosity mind pushed her to take it, reading every label carefully. Harry didn't tell her he was on medication.

Prozac.

She was not familiar with the names. Might be common vitamins. So, she didn't take it seriously.

“Here's your clothes, Y/N. Don't be surprised if it smells like Harry.” Anne handed Y/N's clothes in a paper bag, giving Harry a wink.

“Thank you.” Y/N beamed, “I should go home now. Thank you for your delicious meals, Anne. Maybe one day I will ask you some food recipes if you don't mind of course.”

“I just one phone call away, dear.” She nodded, “Why don't you just stay the night, Y/N? It's already late, and tomorrow it's Saturday.”

“Oh, I don't want to bother you guys. I'm fine.” Y/N politely declined, didn't want to overstay her welcome. After all, she didn't want to bother their family time.

“That's a good idea, honestly. We don't have any urgent tasks to be done over the weekend. You can stay here until Sunday too if you want.” Harry agreed, the idea of his girlfriend stayed the night was quite exciting to him.

“Oh no, really. I'm fine– ”

“This time I don't take a no. I'll show your room, yeah? Harry squeaked, taking her hand. “Or, do you wanna sleep with me in my bedroom?” He asked cheekily.

Y/N widened her eyes, “Harry! I didn’t even bring any stuff to stay overnight.”

“We insist, darling. Besides, I think we have spare toiletries. You can wear Clementia's clothes. ” Anne chuckled, “If you want to stay with Harry, just don't make loud noises in the middle night.” She winked, leaving them both. “Oh! I'll bring you her sleepwear.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N grimaced, squinting her eyes. She was sure her cheeks getting red now.

“Hey, don't listen to her. She's joking.” Harry took her to his embrace, kissing her shoulder. “I'll take you to your room.”

Her room for the night no less spectacular than the other room she ever saw, the space was even almost equal to her whole apartment. While Anne and Clementia took rooms in the hall facing the Thames, her room, which next to Harry was in the other hall facing skyscraper building.

“I don't know if you want to stay with me or not, but I give you your own space. If you need anything, just knock on my door.” He said softly.

“Okay, thank you for letting me stay, H.” She smiled. Before she got the chance to bid him good night, he brought her face closer, kissing her lips dearly. She giggled, tangling his curls in her fingers.

“Good night, sleep well sweetheart.” Harry poked her nose softly, and disappear behind his door.

. . . .

His chest ache, while his body wet with sweat. The air conditioner apparently didn't succeed in making him cool, he kept moving in his sleep.

“Y/N.” He moaned, eyes squinting in pleasure and.. pain. His panting breath filled his room, “Oh my god, fuck.”

“Y/N –darling, baby.” Harry groaned, face dripping with sweat. In split seconds, his eyes shot open. Looking around his room, his hand patted the vacant side next to him. He sighed when he didn't find Y/N laying there. Rubbing his face, he chuckled in to realise that was just his fantasy. In his dream, they were having sex somewhere in Italy. He pounded hard into her while sun setting behind them.

He laughed, how the hell he had a wet dream about his one day girlfriend?

Looking at the clock, it was past two in the night. He decided to clean his self, taking a glass of water, and go back to bed.

His sleepiness disappeared after he washed his face, but how shocked he was when he saw Marcel in his bathroom mirror. Grinning evilly.

“How fun to dream about your girlfriend, well she managed to make you orgasm like that.”

“What do you want, Marcel? I have my family and her over, don't make a scene.”

“I was wondering.. did she hear you? She's sleeping in the next room, isn't she?” He scoffed, “I could just sneak into her room and have sex with her, you know?”

“Don't, Marcel.” Harry gritted his teeth, hands balled.

“How's she feels? Bet she's sweet, dripping like honey. Just imagine, she screams my name instead of you.”

Harry couldn't contain it anymore, his fist punched the mirror making a loud noise along with broken pieces fell to the floor. Marcel disappeared, with his blood pouring from his fist. Little did he know, Anne jolted from her sleep when the sound of broken glass ringing through her ear.

Harry rushed out of his room, then opened Y/N's door – relieved to find that she was still deep asleep, surely not hearing that sounds. Yet, Anne standing in the hall made him frowned. His bloody fist tucked behind his back.

“Mum? Why are you up?” He asked warily.

“I heard something shattered. What happened, Harry?” She asked him back curiously. Her son shook his head, but the way blood dripping to the floor made her sprint towards him. She gasped when looking at Harry's knuckles. “What are you doing? What happened? Why is your hand bleeding like this?”

“I accidentally broke a glass because.. I was half asleep when I went to the bathroom, and.. my reflection made me shock.” Harry scratched his neck with his clean hand, no matter how badly he wanted to lie, Harry could never lie to his mother.

“You clumsy little thing, making me worry.” Anne sighed, “Let me clean your hand.”

“I'm sorry to wake you up.” He mumbled, slightly grimace as Anne patting his knuckles with antiseptic.

“No need to be sorry, darling. It's okay.”

Harry whispered small thank you after his mother bandaged his wounds. Anne smiled sadly, sometimes forgot that her son had grown up, blaming that time flies so fast. Even his physique changes –blossoming into a beautiful man– he was still her baby.

“Harry?”

“Mhm?”

Before she asked him something that bothered her, was it appropriate to ask him? That was his privacy, but she was his mother after all. “I see some medicinal bottles in your room, the names aren't common for vitamins. Are you currently on a particular medication?”

He was speechless, didn't know how to react. He hadn't thought that he was so careless to put the medicines. What should he do? . . Please excuse some errors.

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padfootagain · 6 years ago

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Singles Will Be Paired (VII)

Part 7: Longtemps

I'm too obsessed with this series to write anything else at the moment… so here comes a new chapter!

This song by Amir that I'm using in this chapter is soooooooooo beautiful!! You should definitely check it out!

I hope you all like this! So much cuteness still… I'm making myself blush and grin like a bloody idiot.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 2500

Outside the warm bedroom, the sun was still shy. A pale light bathed the rooftops of Paris while dawn rose, colouring the sky with gold and pale blue hues instead of inky shades. Clouds were gathering in the distance, catching fire as the sunbeams hit them. Slowly, the city was waking up with a laziness mingled with hurry, and the subway was filled with workers travelling across the town from home to their workplace with their eyes still filled with sleep.

Meanwhile, in your hotel room, Ben was staring at you.

Your closed eyes still moved under your eyelids at the rhythm of your dreams. You were lying on your side, facing him, your lips slightly parted. Your hair fell a little across your cheek, and he delicately brushed the strand away to admire your cheekbone.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. Oh, he wasn’t even thinking about leaving you here, don’t worry. He would stay by your side in this bed until you woke up, that wasn’t what he was unsure of.

But how would your relationship evolve after the prior night, that was the question that made him feel nervous. Almost afraid…

He had never meant for you to be a mere one-night stand. But he hadn’t planned on falling head-over-heels for you either.

Ben was mostly rational. Sometimes a little too much for his own good, he was willing to admit it. He thought things through before taking a decision. He thought about it thoroughly and weighed the pros and cons and chose the solution that seemed the safest.

But with you, it seemed that he couldn’t listen to his brain.

Instead his heart seemed to have taken the lead, beating harder whenever he saw you, skipping a beat when he touched you, pounding when you smiled…

He felt like he belonged here, by your side. And if his rational brain kept on reminding him that he had met you just a few days before, his trembling heart kept on pushing him towards you. It was such a strange feeling, to know beyond all logic that he was right where he should be. It was more than instinct or gut feeling. As he watched you peacefully sleeping next to him, it was certainty.

But did you feel the same?

His thumb traced the sharper edge of your cheekbone as he softly cupped your face, his touch feathery. You suddenly stirred, blinking a few times and opening your drowsy eyes before he could pull away.

You stared at each other for a moment, motionless. He waited to see your reaction, and your brain played the events of the previous night as a reminder. When you finally shook yourself, you tightened a little your hold on the sheet, pulling it up to fully cover your torso up to your neck.

"Hey," Ben greeted you with a tender smile.

"Hey," you breathed back.

There was a short silence before you spoke again in a voice tightened by emotions, barely louder than a breathy whisper.

"You’re here."

Ben smiled, amused and puzzled at the same time as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course, I’m here," he nodded. "What did you imagine? That I would turn back into a frog after you stopped kissing me?"

"Something like that."

You struggled to swallow back the lump in your throat, and your voice when you spoke again was tainted with fear.

"I… For a moment, I thought you would leave before I would wake up."

His smile changed into a reassuring one, and he shook his head.

"I’m not a bastard," he answered earnestly, and you couldn’t refrain a laugh.

"Yeah… I can see that."

Across your cheek, his thumb moved again, the gesture tender and soft.

You took some time to lay there, motionless on the mattress, staring at each other. You looked at his eyes, and his beard, and this freckle under his right eye that you adored, and his hair messed by both sleep and your fingers during the night.

And the way he looked at you, his dark brown eyes roaming your face again and again, passing on the same spots until he had memorized every detail, made you feel worshipped like never before.

Eventually, the alarm you had set on your phone the previous evening rang, soon joined by Ben’s, and the two of you exchanged a smile.

"I think Versailles awaits us," you breathed, letting your phone ring as you couldn’t gather the strength to look away from his eyes.

"There’s something I need to do before getting up," he replied, leaving his phone ringing through the room freely as well.

You silently invited him to continue and he smirked, before holding your face more firmly and pulling you into a kiss… that you could only describe as loving.

You kept on kissing, ignoring the ringing alarms until they went silent on their own.

And well… let’s say that you arrived at Versailles later than expected…

---------------------------------------------------------------

The Galerie des Glaces stretched before you as a gallery you thought had been extracted from a book. The marble floor made every of your steps echo through the hall. The walls seemed made of gold, the crystal chandeliers above your head glimmered in the pale light of a wintery morning, coming in through the tall windows on your left that ran all the way down the gallery. And beyond these chandeliers, the ceiling was fully painted, tracing in curves the story of the first years of the reign of Louis XIV, filled with war and peace. On your right the mirrors that had given the name of the room reflected the visitors in awe, the grey sky full of water droplets and the rich decoration.

Ben had wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and your own hand was settled on his waist. Slowly, you walked in unison through the gallery, your eyes round in awe of the scenery, and your hearts beating harder because of the nearness of the other.

You looked at your two reflections in one of the old mirrors that had witnessed so many people passing before them, people who were long gone by now. You could almost see their ghosts in the glass, from the ladies twirling in their satin dress centuries before to the young children coming now to visit the old halls. It was one of these places where you felt the weight of history on your shoulders. You could smell it in the air, you could see it everywhere you looked. There was this strange sensation that you were out of time. Ben’s body against yours still anchored you in the present, but the many people who had walked these halls before you accompanied each of your steps.

You walked across the hall to take a look by the high windows, and a dreamy grin formed on your features as you took in the view of the gardens. Bushes, grass, flowers, trees and alleys seemed to have partnered together to draw on the ground a painting that could only be seen from the sky. Spirals of grass traced their curves across the white alleys, pines adding darker shades to the ground. Three large fountains finished to decorate the scenery. There were still a few white stains left from the snow that had fallen a few days before and had been frozen in the branches of the trees and bushes. Further down, the park stretched till the horizon, the large lake that followed disappearing in the grey hues of the sky filled with snowflakes.

"That is what I call a view," Ben smiled, pulling you a little closer to him.

You hummed in agreement, snuggling closer to his chest.

"I have something to admit…" he went on, and you looked up at him with a little frown. "I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you such a view for our next dates."

You giggled, and he made a dramatic face.

"I mean… I know my charms will do all the work for me but…"

You swatted his shoulder playfully as you laughed and he soon joined you.

"Actually, the scenery is your main argument for now."

"What?! I thought it was my never-ending charisma."

You faked a wince and you both laughed again, making a few tourists turn to glare at you.

But you didn’t stop joking, and you kept on giggling as you walked your way down the gallery.

And as you stepped out of the room, Ben pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

He proposed to take a walk through the gardens, and you accepted with a smile full of excitement curling up your lips.

The air was cold, and the sun hidden behind the clouds wasn’t there to warm your skin. Ben had released your shoulders to take your hand instead. And as you entered the gardens, you intertwined your fingers together.

You walked across the garden you had admired from the Gallerie des Glaces. In the fountains, the water had frozen, and thus no liquid was running out of the statues, but it didn’t bother you at all. It felt wintery, but not less beautiful than if you had walked through the alleys in summer.

After wandering through the maze of bushes nearby, you started in the direction of the park and the long lake that stretched across the trees, like a blue arrow piercing a forest into two.

The cold weather had apparently discouraged most tourists from adventuring outside, and both you and Ben enjoyed this peaceful walk.

Upon the water, a few ducks swam slowly, paddling in the lake. All around you, the trees are for the most part lost their leaves. The grass was a little muddy, but the green shade in the pale light and grey world provoked a beautiful contrast. And the more you walked across the park, the most you wanted this moment to never end.

You kept on wandering through the park for a rather long while, until both of you felt painfully hungry.

You stopped under a little kiosk in the Trianon, and ate the picnic you had brought along next to the statue of a cupid.

Meanwhile, the conversation had drifted from your family and your work to his.

"But it must be tricky to put on this fake skin every morning, pretend all day long that you are someone else, and then come home and be you again," you asked Ben, before biting in your bread.

"Sometimes it is," Ben nodded in agreement. "For some characters more than others, but it’s always something you need to be careful about. Or else you might lose yourself in a character, and at the end of the job, there won’t be you anymore, just the character left."

"How do you cope with that?"

"I have friends who are good at reminding me who I am," he smiled. "They call me out when I don't come back as myself fully. And besides that… my parents are a psychiatrist and a therapist, I can still give them a call and I don't even have to pay for therapy."

You let out a loud laugh, and Ben soon joined you.

"Is it harder if you're single?" you asked in curiosity.

He seemed to think for a moment, before he would slowly nod.

"Sometimes, yes. It is. When you go home to find someone who is waiting for you… someone who wants to be with you as you are and not with one of these characters you play… Someone who doesn't see an actor at all… Someone who just sees me… I'm not saying that no one sees me as I am, don't think I'm complaining. But I would be a fool to think that no one sees my job before seeing through it all. And sometimes… sometimes it's tiring. Sometimes, I know that I can't really be myself around some people."

You put your sandwich away and took Ben's hand in yours, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment, your eyes settling on the cupid before you.

"I hope you can feel that you can be yourself with me," you let out a breathy whisper.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you both closed your eyes together.

"I know," he reassured you. "And it feels good."

After a while, Ben started to hum a tune you remembered from the radio, but you didn't know the name of the song. Nevertheless, you joined Ben as he kept on humming.

He smiled at the sound, before reaching for his phone and earphones. He gave you one of them, and you smiled at him, putting the earphone in your ear.

"What are we listening to?" you asked him, kissing his jawline and making him grin.

He didn't answer. Instead, he found back this song he had been humming and turned the volume up.

Longtemps started to play, but you couldn't understand the meaning behind the lyrics. The melody was soft though. The voice warm and soothing. Just by the sound of it, you knew it was a love song.

"Tell me what it is about," you whispered, stroking Ben's arm and nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck.

He took your other hand in his, and guided it to his lips, so he could kiss the back of your hand.

"I don't know what it means…"

"I'm sure you can catch a few words."

"Not really."

"Don't play it humble, come on!"

He chuckled, but when the chorus played again, he complied anyway.

"Longtemps it means… 'for a long time'."

"Lo…"

"Longtemps," he laughed at you as you tried to repeat the words.

"Longtemps," you repeated it well enough this time.

"Rêver, it means 'to dream'."

"Rêver."

"Sourire, it's 'to smile'."

"Sourire… oh, I like this one."

"Me too."

He had kept your hand imprisoned in his large one, and he rested it against his heart.

"It's a love song, isn't it?" you asked softly.

"Yes, it is."

"What is he saying?"

"That he wants to be with this woman he loves for a long time. That he wants them to grow old together, even when they are too old to remember who they are, he will be happy as long as he's with her."

"That's a beautiful love song… how do you say that? How do you say 'to love'?"

His heart skipped a beat as he answered, turning his head to whisper against your temple, his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Aimer."

You tightened your hold on his hand as you repeated the simple word, your heart quickening.

"Aimer…"

You stared at the cupid before you, holding on Ben tightly, feeling his heart beating just as fast as your own. Behind you, through the tall trees, a few birds were singing too.

Ben played the song again, unwilling to let this moment end.

And all around you, the snow began to fall…

*********************************

Taglist : @geeksareunique @giggleberts @sad-orange-thoughts @aylinnmasow @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla @madamrogers @drinix @joelynnp @mxrihollxnd @rockintensse @newtstarmander @iammadeofstarsandlazyness @presstocontinue @ilmiopiccolounivers0 @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @spencer-is-too-perfect

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes fic #ben barnes imagine

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drakewalkerfantasy · 6 years ago

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Beckett x Maeve Fluff ABC: Part 2 (I,J,M,Q-Z)

This is second and last part of Fluff ABC, first part can be found in my Masterlist. I hope you will like, what I got for Beckett and Maeve. Some of letters later may be become fics later (I totally plan to do this for D-Date) Hope you will enjoy it. I definitely had some fun writing it.

P.S. I’ll fix read more from home…. tumblr have a glitch

Tagging: @elles-choices @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @boneandfur @walkerismychoice @tmarie82 @ifyouseekheart @symonde @confessionsofabrokegirl @ludextruction @flynnomalleys @brightpinkpeppercorn @briarsunicorn @harrington-sinclaire @queen-among-writers @feartheendlesssummer

I – Inside Jokes (Do they have any?)

Maeve often say to Beckett, that he is like a Google, what means he doesn’t let you finish a sentence before making a suggestion. Meanwhile, Beckett started to call Maeve his petrol station after of hours of giving her to breathe Gas and Air pain relief during her first labours. Also occasionally Beckett may call Maeve ABCDEFGHIJK what means: Adorable, beautiful, cute, delightful, elegant, fashionable, gorgeous and hot. When he was asked what IJK means he replied that this means I’m just kidding for what he got a light but tangible blow to the hand, after which he quickly wrapped his hands around her, kissing her sweetly into the tip of her nose, and whispered: This means I just know.

J – Jealousy (Who gets jealous easier? How do they show their jealousy?)

They both are very jealous and possessive of each other. Although they rarely act on their jealousy as they trust each other unconditionally, they still occasionally get into arguments because of their insecurities gets better out of them. Usually if Maeve got jealous, she mostly feels anger and frustration on herself for this as she knows that she is the only one whom Beckett loves and he would never cheat on her. So if she feels threatened by someone, she do the only rational thing, kissing him fiercely on public, whispering in his ear what exactly she wants to do with him when they will get alone, forcing him to choke and blush furiously.

When Beckett feels jealous, he usually grabs Maeve by her hand in total silence dragging her away and fucking her hard in some private corner, claiming her and making sure she know exactly whom she belongs to. Maeve loves this possessively rough side of Beckett sometimes provoking him to act on his jealousy.

M – Movies (What kinds of movies do they watch together? Is it a regular Netflix ritual?)

Maeve’s favourite movies are mostly black and white some with an element of noir. Something about them captures her attention making her hold her breath till the last second of the film and her heart fluttering in her chest like a small bird trying to escape her golden cage. She likes that this movies allow her imagination to go wild putting the colour in the picture, being the one in charge. The mystery of these movies never leave her indifferent never failing to put her into the shoes of people from an earlier time, making her to feel a storm of emotions. Since this movies make such a strong impression on her, she treats them as a type of a dessert that you love, but get it just on a special occasions.

Beckett’s favourite movies except documentaries are family comedies. His favourite time of the day is when he finally gets home to spend some time with his wife and children. Their evening ritual before putting children to bed is settling on the sofa in front of the big TV with some snacks prepared by Maeve and watch some family comedies of children’s choice on Netflix. This is something, apart from other stuff, that make him feel like he finally has a family he always dreamed about. The family who loves him for who he is without any expectations, the family who feels real. After putting kids to bed they usually come back downstairs to watch some romantic movie. Settling comfortably in their living room, having a glass of wine while snuggling together under the blankets, he wraps his arms around Maeve, letting her lean back on his chest, laughing together quietly.

Q – Quit (Do they break up? Almost break up? What happened?)

They were broke up for 2.5 years as his mother feared that if Beckett and Maeve will be united and have a child someday will make Blood Attuned not existing. She never knew what true love is, but she found Beckett’s weakness and made him break up with Maeve to be able to protect her from his mother’s wrath. But they were broke up only technically as their feelings never faded and Maeve was only waiting for the time when he will get stronger for them and will be able to protect them both to finally get reunited with each other.

- Then please, make me understand, - her voice soft and tired, her deep forest-green eyes look through his broken heart and her hoarse whisper seems like a thousand miles away, while his grey, silvery moons eyes were focused on her lips, - look me in the eyes and tell me, this was all a lie.

-Mae…, - Beckett’s throat becomes dry as he follows the tip of her tongue running along her velvety lips, knowing that he cannot lie to her… knowing that as soon as he will look her into these soul-piercing eyes, she will know the truth. He lifts his eyes meeting hers not able to break the gaze, feeling a lump in the throat and spoke, his voice barely above the whisper, - Sometimes, love is not enough. (part of Shard of Ice (Beckett x MC))

R – Rainy Days (How do they comfort each other on dark days?)

They both love spend rainy days in their home in Ireland sitting near to the fireplace and enjoying the intimate atmosphere of their place (at least before they children were born). Maeve prepares special peppermint hot chocolate the one her mother used to make for her dad and the one Beckett ones made for them.

Maeve quietly enters their living room placing the tray with peppermint hot chocolate mags in front of Beckett. His steely eyes wondering on the variety of food choices she placed, besides fresh tangy fruits and berries, he can see also some candied fruits and candy canes. He moves a little, freeing space for Maeve to sit next to him on a large quilted blanket with scattered cushions around them. Beckett turns on soft quite music and they sit hugging together feeding each other fruits and drinking hot chocolate, watching the soft dance of the fire flames, talking and laughing together. Their soft voices are heard in the silence of the room like a whispering meadow under the pattering rain. Beckett’s eyes met Maeve when familiar accords and words started to tune in their living room, the soft smile touched his lips:

What day is it? And in what month?

This clock never seemed so alive

Beckett slowly rose moving the tray aside, and taking Maeve’s mug of hot chocolate from her hands, placing it back on the tray. He extended his hand to Maeve waiting for her to place her small hand in his. His voice barely audible almost dying with the next accords.

- May I? - he asked gently, his silvermoon eyes look deeply into hers golden brown. He watched her gently placing her hand in his, squeezing it lightly, raising from the floor and letting him lead her to the elegant and slow temp of the waltz. They whirl in the dim light of their living room, while a familiar words followed their every move and heartbeat, and their shadows dancing on the walls.

I can’t keep up and I can’t back down

I’ve been losing so much time

Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do

Nothing to lose

S – Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush)

Maeve got absolute mush after hers 19th Birthday surprise that Beckett prepared for her. He gone extra miles to make this Birthday unforgettable and extra special. He took her to the place called Aruland where turquoise ocean stretched in every direction to the horizon, the place that reminded her of her parents. And when in the middle of the ocean he told her for the first time he loves her in the same spot where her father told the exact words to her mother promising her forever and more, she cried feeling the happiness she didn’t feel for a very long time.

The time when Beckett got absolutely mush was the day when their daughter Alexandra Casey Harrington was born. This first sound of her cry after birth filled him with so much happiness and relief, that he thought his heart will be not able to hold all of it. His tears rolled down his cheeks not able to stop, while his eyes where focused on his wife’s exhausted, but happy face. He was so thankful to her for going through all this pain and fear, that he couldn’t find the right words to express this, instead he kept whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you” burying his face in her thick honey coloured hair.

T – Texting (Do they text each other a lot? What do they usually talk about over the phone?)

U – Unique (Tell us about some of their odd habits that surprised one another.)

To be honest none of the odd habits of each other made them surprised, more likely they were the ones that made them fall in love with each other even more. Maeve noticed that every time Beckett is nervous he starts stroking his hairs or trying to smooth his clothes. And when he is embarrassed he starts to rub the back of his neck. Another odd habit of his is to tap his fingers to the beat, be it in the car during a long drive or be it when he was immersed in reading a book.

Maeve doesn’t have a lot of odd habits, but if Beckett would be asked which one of them he sees as the most adorable he would definitely say when Maeve nervously bites on her lower lip. Every time she does this he wants to come closer and do this for her, gently taking her lower lip into his mouth grazing his teeth along it pulling a bit and then swirling the tip of his tongue on a place of the bite.

V – Vanity (Something they’re proud of in themselves and their partner)

Beckett is extremely proud of how quickly after graduation he was able to start a successful business and already in 2-3 years’ time he had opened numerous branches in other cities and countries. In a year time he already had two offices in United Kingdom, and by the time of their wedding he had gone as far as Japan for discussing business opportunities in there and to add another branch to their business. And he is proud that by the time of turning 22 years old with Maeve support he had Attuned Magickae Uirtus Award. Maeve is very proud of him getting this award and also by graduating a top of their class.

Maeve is proud that in a year time of becoming owner of the Sun and Moon shelter she could open a few branches in London and Ireland helping to more and more animals to find a new home. Beckett was so proud when she told him this and also he is extremely proud that she was the other person who graduated a top of their class not yielding to him.

W – Wedding (Tell us about your wedding head canon if they’ve gotten that far. Or if not, have they talked about it?)

They got officially engaged the day of their graduation and after a month started to plan their wedding. In three months after starting the planning their wedding day had arrived. If this would be Beckett’s will, they would get married as soon as he would get a special license for this, but after Beckett’s mother’s death, Maeve insisted for some time for him to mourn.

They chose a spectacular location for their wedding in Ireland, called Hag’s Head, the most southerly point of The Cliffs of Moher. This is a romantic place with access to the spectacular cliff edge providing an unrivalled view across the vast Atlantic Ocean. They met on the top of the cliff standing hand in hand in front of their friends and family feeling the light breeze greeting them on their wedding day. Maeve wore a beautiful strapless gown with the empire waist highlighting exquisite beadwork and embroidery design. The top of her dress was covered with Swarovski Crystals, rhinestones, pearls, and seed beads, and layers of Soft Tulle over Silky Charmeuse lining made up the baby doll silhouette. The thick white ribbon was tied over her growing baby bump, and the multilayered veil was pinned to her honey hair with a pearl brooch. She opted to the white ballet pumps, and by Shreya’s insistence, she also had something new, old, borrowed and blue. Beckett wore a simple black single-breasted jacket and trousers with a natural taper. His white evening shirt has a Marcella collar and double cuffs, with a turn-down collar and Sun/Moon silver cufflinks that Maeve gave him the night before as a wedding gift. His black bow-tie was matched with his highly polished shoes and socks. To top it up he had a navy colored handkerchief in the right breast pocket as a classic detail.

- Okay, are you ready, - excitedly squealed Shreya.

- Yes, I believe so, - breathed out Maeve calming her nerves, ready to step in the hallway.

- Wait… I don’t see anything old on you? Or borrowed in this case. I can see you have this bouquet with small blue flowers in it that will do as yours something blue.

- Shreya…

- Don’t even start. You need this and this is my responsibility as your maid of honor to remind you of this. Okay, this pearl bracelet… is it new?

- Yes, Beckett gave it to me as a wedding gift, - murmured Maeve fiddling with little silver-blue pearls circling her small wrist.

- Great, this will be your something new. Noooow, do you have anything old with you? Anything?

- This brooch is my family’s heirloom and this dress is my mother’s.

- Suppose this is definitely old…. and was worn before…, - she scrunched her nose, skeptically watching on the dress.

- Shreya, even don’t think of starting on this again, - Maeve laughed at her friend’s disapproving gaze.

- Okay, okay. Now I have something that you can borrow from me, these pearl earrings will be the perfect addition to your bracelet.

- Shreya, can we go now? - asked Maeve replacing her golden earrings with borrowed ones before exiting the room with a deep breath.

X – X (Something they hate about the other)

Beckett is totally getting annoyed sometimes, when she send him her pictures in underwear in very inconvenience time, for example during the meetings or a lunch with his business partners. He has suspicions Maeve knows exactly what she is doing with him when she sends him this pictures. The single glance on her half naked body makes him blush furiously, and make him hard in an instant and if their didn’t have sex for awhile this becomes a REALLY BIG problem, the painfully throbbing REALLY BIG problem in his pants.

Y – Youtube (What are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?)

They don’t have much time for facebook, instagram or twitter. Beckett is busy with promoting his business that he started after graduating and with expanding it worldwide. Meantime, Maeve is busy with owning the shelter her parents founded and helping to find a home to as many animals and companions as possible. Also they both are involved deeply in raising their children and making sure they have the best childhood memories created as a family. Occasionally, they may get into online chat with their friends as they all live on the other side of the ocean.

Also they do Skype video calls with Katrina, and Maeve’s adoptive parents as they all want to be part of their children growing up.

Z – Zoo (Are they into animals? Do they want pets? What kind?)

They are definitely into animals and not only companions but also into dogs and cats. On Maeve’s 19th Birthday Beckett brought her to the animal’s shelter the one that was founded by her parents, and the one where Beckett helped not only by generous donations he made regularly but also helping out when he had spare time. During this time they also adopted together one of the puppies. Also, after their first visit, they both started helping there and Maeve became the new owner of this place, investing money and helping to find a home to as many animals and companions as possible.

#beckett harrington #beckett x mc #the elementalists #te #long post #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #fluff abc #fluffy abc #fluff abc part 2

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littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years ago

Text

Dejame

Summary: Wildest Dreams sequel. In the wake of Nathan’s wedding, Emily decided to pick up and leave the city. So many miles away, at a bar on a border town, will she find someone new?

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Notes: Here we are. Two-hundred followers, which is 199 more than I originally expected. Thanks to all of you, and a special thanks to @wickedgypsymoon, who joined the rank as my two-hundredth. Thank you!

Let’s get to business, shall we?

The inspiration for this fanfic is Dejame, from the Argentinean pop band Miranda! Yes, they style themselves with the exclamation. As this is a Latin American song, I placed a few references to the continent, and Argentina in particular, throughout the story. So, yeah, that’s where those are from.

Without further ado, enjoy.

It was sometime around three in the morning, in some lonely highway, right on the state line between New Hampshire and Maine. From the side of the road, it was possible to see the summer moon reflected on the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Emily was deadbeat tired, driving non-stop ever since she crossed the Martha’s Vineyard ferry. Her initial intent was to return to her shitty apartment in Boston, but when she got to the injunction, she just drove past, kept going north.

Finally, she reached Portsmouth, NH and ran out of gasoline. As the nearest station she could find already closed for the night, she decided to go over to a small pub that seemed to be open and running, still.

As she crosses into the threshold, she notices why: there was an ocean of men in navy blue Air Force suits, merrily shouting and singing drunken songs with long neck bottles of beer.

The thought of it being a private event did cross the redhead’s mind, but she dismissed it. She was much too tired, and depressed, to leave without even trying to argue a case favourable for her getting something to drink.

So the still-finely-dressed woman slithered her way through the heavy mountains of muscles that passed as soldiers, mostly inconspicuously. Reaching the bar, she raises a finger and the barman slugs tiredly over to her.

“A Bud, if you still have one.” She asks.

The middle-aged man bends down, places a bottle in front of her, and says, rather snotty: “There you go.”

“Thanks.” The woman gives him a weak smile, out of sympathy. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s the air base in town.” He says, gruff. “They’re going out on summer leave and come here for a last hurrah before heading home. Last call’s been hours ago and there’s nothing that gets them outta here! Anyways, if you need anything else, just call.”

“Thanks.” She smiles once more. “I’m sorry for all the rowdiness.”

He gives her an acknowledging nod and walks over to yet another customer demanding booze.

The clock goes on, while she admires the little bubbles and the cold fog on the muddy-coloured glass of the bottle. She does not know how long it been, until such time a man slides on the stool next to her.

“Hello.” He greets, amicably. He was tall and blond, as muscular as any of the men in the perimeter are, but with a naiveté of sorts on his light blue eyes, something that screamed boy-next-door.

“Hey.” She greets back.

“You’re not from around here.” He stated, clearly not meaning it as a question.

She smirks slightly with the question, amused. “What gave it away? The accent? The dress? Those stupid clasps on my head?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Just that you’re kinda crashing our party, and the locals try to avoid the military people.”

The woman could not help but laugh softly. “Coulda fooled me. But, anyways, I’m from Michigan, originally, but I live in Boston these days.”

“The Great Mitten!” He exclaims, well humoured. “Detroit?”

“Grand Rapids.” She corrects, and then asks, “Yourself?”

“Not a local, either, but I’m closer to home than you.” His grin shines on the dim lighting of the bar. “I’m from Cherryfield, Maine. A stone throw from Canada.”

“Cool.” She responds, not really knowing what to say. “You got anyone waiting for you over there?”

“You mean, like a girlfriend or something?” The blond asks, capisciously. “No, I’m a single man. Though, my mom’s still up there. I’m going over there to see her in the morning.”

“And your dad? Out of the picture?” She asks, bluntly.

The man did not seem to mind. “Yeah. He walked on us when I was little. And how about you? What’s waiting for you in Michigan?”

“A mother, and a bunch of busybody aunts and their harlot daughters.” She responds with a grimace. “I also don’t have a dad, though mine died when I was little.”

“Only child?” He follows up.

She nods. “Yup. You?”

“Two siblings.” He responds, with some wear. “AJ’s at San Francisco. She’s a freelance visual novel artist. And there’s Kyle. He’s a surfer.”

“Aren’t you guys from Maine?” The redhead asks, legitimately confused how a surfer could rail from such a chilly place.

“He moved to Hawaii for college.” It was the simple answer. Trying, and failing, to disguise his discomfort, the man asks: “I’ve just realized we never introduced ourselves.”

“Then by all means.” She extended him her hand. “I’m Emily Harper.”

“I’m Christopher Powell, but you can call me Chris.” He took her hand in his much larger one. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise.” She checked the sleeves of his shirt and salutes him slop and mockingly. “Captain Powell.”

“At ease, Cadet Harper.” He responds, in equal humour. “So, what brings you to New Hampshire?”

“Aw, man.” Emily says, self-depreciating. “How long do you have?”

The dirty-blond-haired man looked at his watch. “My bus leaves at five, so I’d say about one hour and a half.”

“Let’s hope it’s time enough, right?” She winked and threw him a smirk.

He chuckles. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” The woman says, in all seriousness. “Well, it all began last New Year’s…”

And so, Emily told Chris everything that had happened between her fateful encounter with Nathan Sterling to her crashing his wedding earlier that night. The man listened patiently to her tale, making appropriate interruptions for comments and elucidations.

“Now I’m not sure what exactly I want to do with my life. I’m pretty sure I don’t have a job anymore. I don’t want to go back to Boston, never liked it, really, but I’m on the fence about Michigan, too. Perhaps I need somewhere new, to start fresh, you know?” She finishes the tale. Checking the clock, she cheerily says, “Looks like I wasted exactly one hour and fifteen minutes of your life.”

“I had fun.” He says, earnest. “Deployed life doesn’t allow for good conversation, and you’re a good storyteller. I’m hung up on every word.”

The redhead laughs, self-conscious. “Don’t flatter me.”

He raised his arms in rendition. “I’m telling the truth. In fact, I want to make you a deal.”

“Hm?” The woman nods for him to proceed.

“Cherryfield isn’t far. It’s a few hours on the U.S. 1. Why don’t you take me there on your car? I’ll pay for your gas, and you get to be somewhere you’ve never been before. If, by the time we arrive, you decide to go back to Boston or to Michigan, I’ll help you out, too.”

She let out a wide grin. “Let’s do it.”

It was a fair weather day in Maine. The sun shone, and people could walk the sinuous and forested streets of Cherryfield with sleeveless tops and open shoes, and most preferred such, so they would soak in the rare sunlight that shone on that part of the world.

Emily sat alone with a book on her lap on the lonely red brick house that served as that little New English town’s library.

Ever since the last librarian’s retirement, some six months earlier, the place had been closed. It was an understatement to say the town council had been only too glad to have a Northwestern English graduate like Emily to take the job.

The pay was not anything to be proud of, but it came with a small loft and utilities paid. As long as it paid for the food, clothing and a health insurance, it was more than good enough.

That afternoon had been quiet, as usual. The only visitors she had up so far was a couple of schoolchildren looking for help on their summer assignments and a lady after her book club’s weekly title.

It left her plenty of time for leisure reading, cleaning and organizing the dusty shelves of the library and, most importantly, for her poetry writing. It was the greatest progress she made ever since moving to Boston, and certainly her new material was of a higher quality than whatever she had written since college.

On that particular part of day, the redhead had put on some music on her phone while she cleaned and repaired a pair of shelves on the far back of the library, which held several volumes in Maine history, as much so as the books were mostly history themselves.

“Déjame que te comparta, todo que lo siento dentro de mi alma.” She sang along the lyrics when the front door’s bell rung, signalling the arrival of a patron.

It was Chris, and he held a salad bowl neatly wrapped. “Hey, Emily.” He greets with a wide smile. “Nice show you’re having there.”

She smirked. “Glad you like it.”

“What is it, though? Never heard it before.”

A sad smile ran through Emily’s features quickly, before she supresses it and responds: “It’s Argentinian pop music. I grew up on a minority neighbourhood in Grand Rapids.”

“Argentina, huh? That’s nice.” He attacks her from behind, placing his hands on her waist, turning her facing him dead in the eye and dipping her very low, on a quasi-90º angle. “Land of romance. And tango.”

She laughs and slaps his arm. “Let me go, Casanova! Sneakers and t-shirts are hardly tango-appropriate.”

The man lets his ‘dance partner’ stand up straight and, with a wicked turn of lips, says: “Well, I think the one thing we were short of was a rose.”

“Those are usually provided by the gentleman.” The girl makes a slight swirl with her hand on her red hair and then continues, “What brings Captain Powell to my humble establishment?”

He held up the bowl. “I come bearing gifts. I’m starting to think my mom likes you better than me.”

“You brought me into your home.” She shrugs. “You should’ve had thought it through beforehand. It was pretty clear I’d steal your family and murder you from day one.”

“Of course, a grave oversight on my part. Please be kind when chopping my body into pieces before dumping me into the river.”

“I’ll think about it.” She winks. “What’s on the menu?”

“It’s chicken alfredo. She’s been testing that cookbook you got her. I don’t know whether to thank you or damn you.” He taps his still-hard-rock stomach for emphasis.

The woman rolls her clear eyes. “If ya gaining weight, it’s you who is lazing around. Go for a run, for Christ’s sakes! The weather is mighty nice for it.”

“I would, but it’s oh, so boring on my own.” He complains. “Would you like to come with? You didn’t see anything on Maine yet except from the town hall, the library and my house.”

She fishes a piece of chicken and plops it into her mouth before responding: “I thought that was it.”

“Very funny, big city girl.” Chris teases. “Come on, tomorrow morning?”

“Fine, but if you rush ahead on your big, G.I. Joe calves, I am taking away your library card.” She points an accusing finger at him. “And I’ll have a mighty good time slashing it into pieces.”

Chris takes a deep breath, filling his expansive lungs with the clean air of the Northeast. Smiling with the placidity of the taiga forestry, he stops for a moment so he could enjoy the feeling of being home, a feeling yet not made redundant by the two weeks he already spent at Cherryfield.

He was thrown back into what he was presently doing when a strained, woman’s voice called from down the trail.

“Oh, God!” She complains. “How long did you say until we reach the top again?”

“We’re close. It’s just after those trees.” He points to a pair of pines a few steps in front of him. “C’mon, Emily, it’s just a teeny, tiny hill.”

“What does the military feed you?” The woman wonders, rather bitterly. “I can’t. I really can’t! If I take another step, my foot is going to fall off.”

“We’ve walked greater distances over the week.” The blond points out.

Emily huffs. “I remember I whined quite a lot in all of those occasions. Something on the lines of ‘how a man who spends most of his time piloting an aircraft isn’t a fat slob’, perhaps?”

The man chuckles. “Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Go, Chris, go on without me!” She dramatically plops on the overgrowth. “Finish your hike, walk away into the sunset! I’ll be fine here with my calluses for company.”

Chris rolled his eyes and walks over to the girl. He kneels down and says: “Hop on.”

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look.

“Hop on.” He repeats. “We’re so close, I’m not letting you give up now.”

“You can’t carry me!” Her pitch rises in disbelief.

“We’re going to have to see about that, ain’t we?” He grinned, cockily. “I’m not going to drop you. Scout’s honour.”

“Were you a scout?”

“Not really, but I’m on the Air Force. Big-ass jet planes should trump needlework and pinecone arts and crafts, right?”

She looked wearily at him once more, and finally complied wordlessly. Chris smirked and navigated through the last leg of the trail until the forest clears into a small cliff that overlooked Millbridge and Narraguagus Bay.

The late-morning sun shone on the ocean water, reflecting placidly on the dark azure wideness. The small town on the seaside was far from bustling, as it was Sunday, but the stillness made it seem like a model train station underneath a Christmas tree.

Chris places Emily down gently on a rock where she could sit up straight. The Midwestern woman, however, was marvelled with the scenery.

“Chris…” She breathes out. “This is so beautiful! How did you know it was here?”

He shrugs lightly. “This is a small town. When I was a teen, I didn’t have much to do on weekends besides hanging around the town square with the other kids, so I thought I ought to put the time into something productive, so I explored the trails on the woods around here.”

“And you never got lost?” The woman wonders.

“Nah, I had a map, and most trails are marked.” The blond man points to the path downhill. “It’s not much different from walking down a street.”

“What was like? To grow up here, I mean.”

He scoffs in good-nature. “What’s that about now?”

“I just noticed that I’ve told you all about my life back in the Midwest and all the Nathan crap but I don’t know much about your past.” She weighs. “Your mom wouldn’t show me a single embarrassing baby photo!”

“I don’t think she has any.” The man stated, a little unfazed by it all. “As for not telling you anything, I guess I don’t have many interesting stories. I never crashed a wedding, I haven’t dated a People magazine’s eligible bachelorette, nor have I moved across the country to pursue a writing career.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not interested on what you have to say.” The redhead counters.

Chris sighs. “Fair enough. What would you like to know?”

“Everything.” Emily says, rather excitably. “What was like when you were a child? What do you like to eat? Have you ever been in love? Why have you gone into the military? Have you ever robbed a bank?”

He shook his head. “Nope, never robbed a bank, sorry to disappoint.”

“How sad.” The girl laughs it off.

“As for my childhood, well, my dad was a truck driver. He worked for a shipping company here in Millbridge.” He pointed at the compound, on the other side of town. “He was on the road a lot, so it was mainly my mom and I.”

“What ‘bout your siblings?” She wonders.

“AJ and Kyle are close in age to each other, but I was eight when AJ was born. And, anyways, my dad bailed on us when Kyle was seven months old, so I guess it’s been mom and I for most of it.”

“How old were you when your dad left?” Emily asks, on a low, tactful voice.

“A little over ten.” He responds, grim.

“That’s rough.” She says with a sad smile on her face and a comforting hand on his arm. “My dad died while I was in college and it was hard enough. It must been terrible to lose yours so young.”

“Not really.” The blond says, chilly. “He was just this guy who would stop by once every two months. He was never there. I know this sounds rather terrible, but I didn’t miss him all that much when he was gone.”

The redhead woman smiles kindly at him. “You don’t have to feel sorry about that, you know? If your dad was lousy, then you’re not obliged to miss him. I wish your dad were a good man and that he stayed, but that’s because I wanted for you to have that experience, not that just because the man is your father, he’s any less of a dick.”

Chris gave her a thin, constrained smile in recognition. “Thanks, Emily. Anyways, where were we?”

“You were telling me about your rebellious years.” She shot him a lopsided smirk, full of mirth and wickedness.

The blond scoffed. “I had no such thing. High school and I was more of the dorky wallflower. The basement of the social totem, wallflower.”

“I have trouble believing that.” She states. “In fact, I see three pairs of muscle right about now further my point.”

He snorted. “That’s the work of the military. Well, that and a part-time I took junior year. Up until then, I was thin and scrawny.”

The redhead laughs and throws back her head. “Fine, whatever you say, Mr. Wet Dream.”

“I’m serious!” The Air Force official defended, his pitch a little high due to the stifling laughter that resonated through the otherwise silent forest.

“You also didn’t tell me anything juicy.” A thin, pale finger pokes him on the tip of the nose. “Tell me ‘bout your girlfriends, and make it saucy.”

“I only had one. Sorry to disappoint.” He responded.

“Tell me about her.” The librarian nudges.

He had a nostalgic smile on his face. “Her name was Nicole. She was the head cheerleader and my boss’ granddaughter.”

“The Geek and the Princess?” Emily scoffed. “How MTV-esque.”

“I have to admit it’s kind of a cliché, yeah.” He nods, slightly humoured. “We dated throughout our senior year. Come summer, though, she broke up with me. She was heading to Orono for college and I was to stay in Cherryfield, I was no football star or super genius to have a scholarship and I couldn’t afford tuition.

“She said college would be a new experience for her and she didn’t want to string me along.” He could not contain a pained grimace. “I know, though, that the truth is that she didn’t want to be with someone who was going nowhere in life. The following week, I enlisted on the Air Force, and that’s that.”

“What. A bitch.” Emily deadpanned. “Where’s her now? Please tell me she flunked out and has to flip burgers for a living.”

Chris shook his head. “Nothing like that. She met a guy from Presque Isle freshman year, really nice sort. Last I heard, they’re engaged to be married.”

“Twenty dollars say he’s gay.” Her eyes glinted on nastiness. “Nicole’s a beard, I’m sure of it.”

“You don’t even know the guy.” He points out.

She shrugs. “Don’t need to. If he’s willing to swear in front of the community, a minister and God to spend forever and then some with Nicole, either he’s retarded or gay.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirks at her. “Anyways, I’m starving. What you packed for lunch?”

“Oh, right! Pass me my backpack.” She said and the man complied. “Straight from Latin America, another devious concoction of mine to make you fat. Tres Leches cake!”

Emily stood in the middle of Augusta bus station with a tickle on the side of her clear right eye, the spot where a tear threatened to form and spill through her cheek.

The place was busy and loud, an expected scene on a summer Sunday, as people leave the vacationing bliss of Maine for their own grey, stressful lives in the south.

“Thanks again for driving me here, Emily.” Chris said, with the pitiful attempt of a cheerful smile. It ended up looking more like a grimace.

“No problem. I wanted to say goodbye here rather than back in Cherryfield.” She rubs her eye softly.

After a rather long leave, some twenty-something days, Chris was summoned again at the base in New Hampshire, and Emily drove him to Augusta, where the military had set up a bus, serving the enlisted from northern Maine. Having finished his pilot training the month before, he was to be sent into combat.

After a rather long moment of silence, Emily says: “God, I hate those things.”

“Goodbyes?” He asks, kindly.

She nods. “And geopolitics.”

“Geopolitics?” He asks, confused.

The young woman shrugs. “What I’m blaming over the fact you’re going to war.”

The blond chuckled softly. “I’m not going to war. I’m shuffling soldiers between Ramstein and Bagram. I won’t be seeing much action, it’s more like a very exclusive airline.”

The woman huffs. “Well, excuse me for worrying about you. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Chris let out a vociferous laughter. “Don’t be offended. I’m even a little flattered with your concern, but don’t waste energy on it. I’m going to be fine.”

The young redhead cannot help herself but to let out a sigh. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He smiled confidently. “So much so, I’m willing to give you a keepsake, so that I’ll have to come back to get it.”

“Are we really going to do that? Because if you die anyway, I’m throwing whatever you give me in the river out of spite.” She nudges an accusing finger on his toned, stone-hard chest.

The blond smiles. “Yes, we are doing it, and please cooperate. You’re ruining the mood.”

He takes a step towards the young woman, places a calloused finger softly under her chin, and bobs her head upwards. With the shiny green on his eyes peering deep into hers, he closes the distance between their faces and gives her one of those toe-twirling kisses you see at the end of a romantic comedy movie.

However, it is fair to say, it was not the end of a movie. They usually end at a rekindling of a relationship, a meeting on a busy airport or at a ‘Happily Ever After’-kind of wedding.

This was nothing of that.

Much the opposite. This was a separation, and that tone peered from the edges of that kiss. Which, despite being very much pleasurable for both parties involved, lost a nickel of its glamour, its momentum.

Nevertheless, the two of them broke apart breathless. Chris seized the silent moment of his companion and says: “Emily, being with you this last month was one of the best times of my life. You make me feel like I could do anything, like I mattered more than anybody else in the world. I love that feeling, I love being with you, and I could very well see myself falling in love with you in the future.”

At a first moment, Emily’s lips were pressed together on a thin line of incredulity and appraisal. As he went on, it gradually dissolved into a smile, and finally, on a scandalous laughter.

It wasn’t the reaction Chris expected, and his face turned into a grimace. Then, the young woman pressed her hands on each side of his face and kissed him sloppily.

“Oh, God, that was so cheesy! I loved it!” She said and kissed him again. “I can see myself loving you in the future, too.”

He chuckled. “Good. But don’t laugh next time I tell you I like you. It’s not much of an ego boost.”

She smirked. “Duly noted, sweetheart.”

Afterwards, the joyful mood dissolved back into melancholy when Emily hugged the man’s broad frame as tight her puny arms could hold him.

“I’m going to miss you.” She whispered against his chest.

“I’m going to miss you, too.” He whispered back.

With that, they break apart and Chris walks over to his bus. As he boarded, he takes a last look behind and there she was, red hair and short stature, looking teary-eyed at his retreating frame.

She waves at him, which he responded with a small, rather depressive show of hands.

He will come back, of that much he was certain. What was still left to be undecided was how much it would pain him until he does.

The snow fell softly yet constantly over the small town of Cherryfield, Maine, forming a thick white carpet over the land and the houses.

It was Christmas night. Late enough for most children to be asleep, dreaming about the visit of Santa Claus, while parents spread the gifts under the tree and gorged on cookies and milk.

On a red brick house, near the school and the town hall, Emily sat alone, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. She gazed through the window, admiring the falling of snow from the sky.

She peered at her open laptop on her bed. She wanted to check and see if Chris had sent her something that night.

The two of them had been communicating via e-mail, mainly, ever since he was deployed overseas. But as of late, their exchange was spotty at best. The last message she received was about a week ago and it concerned her. She knew internet connection in Afghanistan was hardly worth mentioning, but the man had said that he would send word whenever he was in Germany.

That must not have been happening often as of late, must it?

She sighed one last time and reached for the computer to turn it off. There was nothing new in there, and it was depressing enough to spend Christmas alone, on the internet was sticking a little too far.

Her puny salary, even lower than what she made at the shipping company, was not enough for a plane ticket to Michigan. Some families in town had invited her to spend the night with them, but she did not want to impose on family time. She could pick on the leftovers in the morning.

As for Barbara Powell, her none-the-wiser mother-in-law, she went on a cross-country trip to San Francisco to see AJ and Kyle, last Emily heard.

She did not talk often with the older woman, funny enough. Mrs. Powell hardly ever came by the library, and Emily never seemed to find the woman at home when she swung by.

The redhead finished her tea and was about to cover herself for the night when she hears a loud banging noise coming from downstairs.

Cherryfield was as tranquil as one can expect from such a town, but Emily was from a rather rough neighbourhood in Grand Rapids and was wary of urban violence. A stint in Roxbury did not help, either. Not to mention, for a girl alone at night, any loud noise was enough to throw reason out the window.

She picked up a curtain rod she swore she would be putting up for weeks now and starts making her way downstairs, careful not to make any sound. Skipping the creaking last step, she sees him.

A large, dark figure was by the wide-open backdoor. He had a considerable amount of melting snow pooled on the floor by his boots and was fumbling with the door, having his back against Emily.

Thinking it to be her chance, she runs forward to hit him with the rod, all in the while shouting, “GET OUT OF HERE, YOU PERVERT!”

“What the hell!” He winces in pain, trying to protect the injured ear with one hand while turning on the lights using the other.

Emily drops the rod. “Oh my God, Chris! What are you doing?!”

“Trying to make a romantic surprise, that’s what!” He complains, between groans of pain. “Why did you hit me with a stick?”

“I thought you were a burglar or something!” She shouts back, still high on the adrenaline.

“What kind of person tries to rob a library, Emily?!”

“I don’t know! I panicked, I’m sorry!” She walks over him and checks his wound by moving his hand away from his ear. “Does it hurt?”

“Not so much.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I should have known better. Looking back, it does sound pretty stupid to break into a single girl’s apartment.”

She smiled, in spite of the situation. “But I’m not single.”

“You’re not?” The blond’s voice raises a pitch.

“Nope.” The girl shook her head emphatically. “I have a very handsome, very kind boyfriend who’s kinda slow sometimes, but I’m very glad to see him, nonetheless.”

Chris grinned, wide enough for one to wonder if his face was going to crack. “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s very happy to see you, too.”

“Good.” Emily kissed his cheek. “Now let’s get you to bed, you feel too cold.”

He swept her off her feet. “Lead the way.”

Taglist: @alicars; @boneandfur; @choicesfannatalie; @emerald-bijou; @kennaxval; @liam-rhys; @liamxs-world; @lizeboredom; @mfackenthal; @mrsdrakewalkerblog; @radiantrosemary; @topsyturvy-dream

#the junior #chris powell #nathan sterling

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im-not-so-sin · 7 years ago

Text

The Aurum

Here is a commission I did for @musicalravencreates!! my very first commission! thank you!

I really enjoyed writing this!

AO3 Link! My commissions page! My Ko-Fi page!

Egobang (Princess!Arin/Captain!Dan) [5044 words]

“…You may now kiss the princess- “ “NOOO!!” Princess Arin yelled, waking himself up. He sat in an upright position, bracing his arms tight to his chest. His hair was a mess, hanging out from the bun he had put it in the night before, and sticking to his sweat covered forehead. He held a breath, waiting. Wide eyes roaming around the room he was in, he paused for a minute or two before he sighed out in relief, “Oh thank god.” He huffed.

For the past week, Princess Arin has had these nightmares, all of them consisted of the same thing; marriage. This was his parents fault. They’ve been “secretly” setting up an arranged marriage for him for weeks now, nearly months. Though they weren’t doing a very good job to keep it a secret, Arin had walked in while they were looking at some wedding dresses, and the maid scrambled to get him out. It was really starting to get on his nerves. He didn’t want to get married, he’d only just turned twenty-two not so long ago! That was still too young in Arin’s mind. “It’s time you started looking for a partner now, Princess.” The Queen had told him on his eighteenth birthday. ‘No thank you.’ Arin thought as he held up his new dress. Pretty and pink, just how he liked them. In Arin’s mind, there was no way in hell that he’d get married anytime soon. But alas, four years went by and there was a change. The Queen hadn’t asked about marriage on his birthday, and that’s when Princess Arin started to get suspicious.

“Do you remember Prince Edward?” The Queen asked over dinner, eyes focused on Princess Arin. “From Deverenden?” He replied. “Yes.” “What does he want?” Arin questioned spooning a heap of peas into his mouth. “Your father and I have arranged for him to marry yo-” A loud cough interrupted the Queen’s statement, which devolved into choking. The source was Arin, and his peas. A few of them falling out of his mouth during the coughing fit. All the King and Queen could do is stare, wide eyed, waiting for him to finish. After taking a large gulp of his sparkling water to clear his throat, Princess Arin spoke. “Excuse me. What?!” He said, unbelievingly. “You heard me.” “I know! But… But how could you do this to me?” “It’s time for you to be wed, Princess. We have waited long enough.” The Queen strictly told him. Arin abruptly stood. “No! I am not getting married, Mother!” “You will sit down and listen to your mother, Princess.” The King interrupted. Usually, Kings were not ones to help prepare princess’ for marriage, but Princess Arin was not just any Princess. He was stubborn, there took a lot of persuasion and bribing for Arin to change his mind on something. Princess Arin was also kind, and sweet, he took pride in knowing all of the maid’s names. It brought a smile to their faces too; he’s such a sweetheart. But still, the Princess remained standing, mouth agape. “I will not be getting married! You can’t make me!” He screamed, spilling the contents of his glass on the oak table and ran away. “Arin!” The Queen rose from her seat to called after him, “you come back here. Now!” But Princess Arin did not listen. He just kept running, with his pastel pink dress bunched up in his hands, freeing his legs. He didn’t stop running until he reached his room. Arin reached for the doorknob and quickly twisted it, pulling himself into the room. Artwork hung all around on the cream coloured walls, most of them drawn or painted by Princess Arin himself. A bed placed in the centre of the room takes up most of the space, but Arin swiftly glides past it to stand in front of the window. “They can’t make me,” he cried out, tears leaving wet trails down his face. In one swift move, he pulled the tiara from his hair, ripping a few of the long strands out in the process, “I don’t want to…” he muttered. Arin took a seat at his vanity, taking his in his current appearance. ‘How could they do this to me?’ He thought, ‘I trusted them…’

———

“We enter here?" A shadowy figure asks, pointing to a gateway on a map. "Yes, that's where we will strike." Says another, slightly older man. "But that's the main entrance! We'd be caught for sure Captain!" The first man shouts, growing angry. The Captain leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “You see Barry,” he started, “that’s what they fuckin’ want you to think.” The man stared, baffled by his Captain’s comment, he glanced to his left, a man that stood there. A confused look on his face too. “... Alright then.” The young scruffy man said, “We’ll enter through the front.” There was a murmur of agreement heard in the small room, that broke the silence for a second, but the quiet soon returned. “Then it’s settled. We leave at zero two-hundred hours,” The Captain stood, clapping his rather large hands together, “be ready everyone, we’ve only got one fuckin’ shot at this!”

———

“Excuse me, Princess?” A polite voice said through the door. “Come in.” Arin called back in response. He looked back at himself in the mirror, delicately combing through his long hair, being careful of the knots that he had caused prior to the frustration. His eyes glanced to his door again when it opened, an older lady walked inside the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She took a moment to breathe before she spoke, like she was trying to find the right words to say to the Princess. “I know it is very late, but I think you should apologi-“ “I am not apologising to her, Eleanore!” Arin argued, cutting her sentence short. He glared at her through the mirror, before promptly turned his head to look at her fully. A sad look in her eyes made him furrow his eyebrows and start to sob. “Please, El… I d-don’t want to do this-s! Pl-ease!” Fat tears started rolling down his cheeks, clinging onto his chin during his sudden fit of hiccups. In an instant, he disregarded the comb he was holding to raise his hands to his face; hiding himself from her gaze. Eleanore immediately rushed over to the Princess and held him gently to her chest, hushing the noises that escaped him. “I know sweetheart, I know,” She whispered, placing a kiss to his forehead, “they’re only trying to do what they feel is best. You should know that.” Arin sniffled, his hiccups soon calming down. Eleanore was like a mother to him. She had always been there to take care of him while growing up, and because of this, the Princess considered her to be his best friend. He didn’t have anyone else. He knew no other children his age whilst growing up, and he had no brothers or sisters either. So, one of his parent’s many maids was the next best thing, and Arin treasured their friendship. He wouldn’t give it up for the world. “It’ll be okay, Princess.” Eleanore reassured. Arin lent back from her embrace to wipe his eyes, being very careful of the sensitive skin. “I can trust you, right?” He asked suddenly, startling Eleanore. “Yes, of course…” A growing silence took over the dark room, “Princess…?” “Yes?” “What are you thinking of doing?” She questioned. A small glimmer in Arin’s eye told Eleanore that he had an idea. “I’ll run away!” He said, matter of factly, “it’s the only way I can get out of this marriage.” “But Princess, you have nowhere to go.” Arin gasped then turned to Eleanore, who was perched on the edge of his vanity bench. “You can come with me!” he excited told her, “We can run away from this place, and-and live with your brother in Finwick! You said he writes you letters telling you to visit him. Come on, El! We’ve got to pack!” Princess Arin quickly stood and rushed to his wardrobe, clearly excited. He started grabbing whatever he could, which involved numerous dresses, pencils, and his precious sketch book, and placed them in a large suitcase he had pulled out from under his bed, a pretty pink bow tied around the handle of it. Though Eleanore was still seated, just watching the Princess skip around the room gathering various items. Just as Arin buckled the suitcase up, he turned to Eleanore. “Come on!” He said as he walked over to her. He took her hands in his, “We’ll be okay, El. Just as long as we make it out of this place.” Arin waits for a response, looking into the eyes of his best friend. “I can’t.” She mumbles. Arin furrows his brow, clearly confused. “What? But you’ve wanted to leave this place for so long!” Arin let her hands drop, “You said- you told me, that you miss being free!” He was shocked, how could she. “I’m sorry, Princess-“ “Leave.” Arin said, clearly annoyed. “I wish to be alone.” Eleanore stood, moving to the door. She grasped the doorknob, turning back around to Arin, who remained where he was. “I’m sorry.” She whispered before leaving the room and shutting the door, locking it from the outside. This was expected for Arin. After midnight, all door must be locked, the King’s orders they say. But Arin knows that it’s because they have no guards patrolling the perimeter during the night.

———

From the shadows, a pair of hazel eyes look out over the castle grounds. “All clear,” said the Captain, “we’ve just got to wait a little longer. I see someone still has their lights on. The second floor.” He points. The man known as Barry nodded, but just as he did, the light switched off. The Captain looked back at him. “It’s time.” He said quickly, creeping his way through a gap in the wire fence. The rest of his crew follows, moving silently through the night. They reach a large wooden door, towering the tallest of them. The Captain raises a hand to halt the group. “Ross?” he whispers, quiet for a moment while the man stumbles to the front, “Did’ya bring the picks?” “Yeah, of course.” He says, pulling a small leather pouch out from his pocket. The Captain takes a step back, giving the other man some room. It takes Ross a few seconds before there’s a noise. Click The door swings open smoothly, the Captain looks impressed. He waltzes right in, taking in his surroundings. “Alright,” he says as he turns towards his crew, “Barry and I will take the second floor, and the rest of you take this one.” He motions for Barry to follow, keeping a swift pace as he climbs the stairs, taking three steps at a time. Once they reach the top, the two of them split up, each going in opposite directions. After opening and closing some doors Barry manages to find the study, this was what they were looking for, he turns back around to get some help from his fellow friends. The Captain, on the other hand, stumbles into someone in the wide corridor whilst roaming the halls. He quickly grabs ahold of them, turning them around to face a wall. Roughly putting his hand over the victim’s mouth, immediately silencing them. “Shhh. If you make even the slightest noise, I will cut your throat.” What the victim didn’t know, was that this was a false threat. The Captain never carried a weapon, afraid of hurting someone. It was never his intention in the first place. A loud bang gave him a fright, a suitcase with a bow tied to it was released from the victim’s grasp. This gave them an opportunity to wiggle out of the Captain’s firm hold. They turned to face him, searching his face with a creased forehead. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my cast-“ The Captain raised his eyebrows. “This is your castle?” “You didn’t answer either of my questions, and as far as I am aware, you are an intruder!” “You’re the fuckin’- oh!” The Captain had a sudden realisation, this forced him into action. He lunged forward to pick up the Princess, throwing him over his shoulder, and bending down slightly to pick up the disregarded suitcase. Running back down the stairs, he nearly bumped into Barry, who was quite surprised to see him carrying another person. “Princess.” He spat out as he strode past. Barry quickly took this opportunity to grab a piece of paper from the study to write a quick note.

———

“Don’t you shush me!” Arin yelled, “I want answers!” Arin was currently chained to a bed, on a ship, in the middle of the ocean. The mugginess of the air passed through the floorboards which kept making Arin sneeze. He’d never been on the ocean before, there again, he hadn’t even seen it before! The Princess was never allowed to go past the gates, an annoying rule his parents had. But here he was, on the ocean, being interrogated by a man he’s never met before. The Captain had been trying to get any information out of him for hours now, but the Princess wouldn’t budge. “Fine,” The Captain said after some time, “what do you want to know?” “What is your name?” Was the first question he asked. A weird choice in the Captain’s opinion, but nonetheless, he answered. “Dan,” He said, “or Danny, whichever you prefer. And yours?” “Princess Arin. My second question is where the heck are we?” “… On the fucking ocean? Is that it?” “Huh? Oh! All of my questions? No.” Dan was starting to get annoyed, he ran a hand through his wild hair, taking a deep breath. “Look. I’m only keeping you here for a little while; then we’re taking you back.” Arin was confused, but that turned into fright. “I don’t want to go back!” He cried, reaching for Dan. Though the chain around his ankle didn’t let him go far, “Don’t take me back there! Please, Dan!” Tears started streaming down his face, Dan was gobsmacked. He had never seen someone so vulnerable than how Princess Arin looked at this moment. Puffy red eyes, wet cheeks, random pieces of hair coming from the side of this head, and a little bit of snot coming out of his nose. ‘That’s a little gross.’ Dan thought, pulling a face at the booger, but he soon returned his features to a confused expression, raising a single scarred eyebrow too. “I’ll think about it, but no promises.” He said. Arin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He excitedly said, trying to reach out and hug Dan, but the Captain waved him off, still curious as to why the Princess didn’t want to go back to the castle. He would have to ask another time.

———

“Where is he? He must be here somewhere around here!” “We’ve searched everywhere, your highness. He is nowhere to be found.” The Commander says to the Queen, her frustrated starting to show, making the guard worry. After waking up to find out that Eleanore, didn’t see Arin wandering the castle this morning and that he wasn’t even in his room at all, she panicked. Asking everyone if they had seen him, or if they had saw someone strange at all. As soon as she calmed down a little, she ordered the guards to search for him, and after two hours of searching the castle, grounds, and the garden, they reported that he was not there. Though, she did notice that the rug in the foyer had one corner flipped over. At first, it didn’t seem important, until the King came rushing into their shared bedroom. “Charlotte, my sweet. This was on my desk in the study. Someone was in there! And it’s definitely not Arin’s handwriting.” He said, waving the paper in front of her. “Read it aloud please.” She said quietly, fearing the worst. The King took a deep breath. “We have the Princess. He has not been harmed… yet. Give us ten gold bars, and we shall return him. -D” “Ten gold bars?! They must be insane!” The Queen shrieked, raising from the bed to look out of the window. “Do you not want the Princess back?” The King questioned. If his wife was not part of this, he would have gladly paid the amount, but the King knew that she was cruel and cared more about money than her own child. “He’s not worth ten bars.” She said.

———

Three months went by without a single reply from the King and Queen, no note saying where the gold would be, or none saying to lower the price. This left Dan to keep the Princess onboard his ship, The Aurum. Though the Captain would never admit it to his crew, or even to the Princess, but Arin was definitely growing on him. They had created a bond like no other. Barry saw it too, but he didn’t dare to comment, he just went on his way when he saw them sitting particularly close one evening. The two were in the Captain’s room one rather dark night. Dan sat at his desk, mapping their destination out whilst the Princess lay across his berth drawing. The only sounds being the sea crashing up against the boat, and Arin’s scribbling. The Captain found this comforting. It had been a while since he had shared his quarters with another person, but there again, he did enjoy having someone to distract him from his work at times.

Dan leant back in his chair to stretch out his arms, after hearing a satisfying pop in his joints, his eyes moved over to Arin. Who was contentedly drawing, his tongue poking out the tiniest bit in concentration. “What’cha drawin’?” Dan asked while raising his eyebrows in curiosity. Arin immediately looked up towards Dan, a red tinge starting to cover his cheeks. He rested his head in the palm of his hand whilst the other covered his sketch. “Nothing!” He said, “What are you doing?” The Captain stood and started walking over to him. “Well I was mapping us out, but now I’m interested as to what you were drawin’,” He stopped at the edge of his berth, just where Arin was, and sat down, “what ya hidin’? Something nasty?” “Uhhh….” Dan laughed, “Nah, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to show me.” Then he just got up, and left. Leaving the princess to let go of a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. What the Captain didn’t know, was that Arin had been sketching him leaning over his desk, focusing on the map! Arin found the Captain’s features very interesting. Sharp angles, but also soft, and his hair tied up in a low ponytail was perfect. He was perfect. The Princess could not have missed that reference opportunity, but he nearly got caught! He would never show Dan these drawing, ever! They could throw him overboard from having such feelings towards the Captain. But he didn’t need to know about them. Nobody did. So Arin drew in secret, not showing anyone his artwork.

A few days later, they arrived on an island called Mordale Isle. There weren’t many folks living there, but there were plenty of shops that held interest. Young children played with sticks up and down the streets, and dogs could be seen running around chasing cows in the distance. But as soon as The Aurum was anchored, Dan was off, with the Princess in tow. Joined by their hands the entire way there, Dan had to show Arin this shop that he remembered from last time. He didn’t care what his crew said if they saw him and the Princess holding hands, he would have to deal with that later. This was more important than anything. The Captain and his crew had visited Mordale Isle many times before for their supplies, but he had never once gone inside of the art shop. He had always breezed by it, but it seemed extremely significant in this very moment. He knew the Princess would love the quaint little shop. “Slow down, please!” Arin was struggling to keep up with the Captain’s long strides. So he bunched up his dress in one hand, the other already being occupied with Dan’s, and tried to match up with his pace. Seconds went by, then Dan abruptly stopped, letting Arin bump into him for a second before reaching for the door handle. He guided Arin in before himself.

The environment changed as soon as they walked in. There were no sounds of people bustling in the streets, no dogs barking, no children laughing. Just quiet music playing from the back of the store. Arin was immediately distracted by all the different colours of paint they had and didn’t notice the Captain watching him with a small smile on his face. Rows upon rows of colours in different types of paint lined one whole wall of the store. Arin was amazed, he didn’t know there were so many different shades of pink! He wanted them all. ‘They’re so pretty!’ He thought. But what really caught his eye, were the watercolour sets. Those were his favourites to use when he made his art, he found them so beautiful. He turned to call Dan over to look as well.

“Da-ah!” He shrieked. The Captain was already standing behind him, a smirk on his face. “Sorry, what is it?” Arin pointed towards the watercolours, then to the pink paint, “I like those.” He said. “Oh yeah? You like pink?” Dan said, picking up one of the lighter shades of pink. Arin nodded, and Dan hummed in reply. Not saying much else, the Princess went to explore more of the shop; Dan not too far behind. “Hello!” A kind voice said, “Welcome to my shop!” “Hello,” Arin said, “do you have any sketching pencils by any chance?” Arin had been sketching so much while on The Aurum, he had nearly run out of pencil! The owner of the store led him to a large box filled with pencils, most of them already sharpened. Arin thanked him, and the owner went on his way, putting away more of his stock. “Daaaaan~” Arin called sweetly. He watched Dan’s head shoot up from behind a stack of canvas, eyebrows raised. He looked like he was telepathically saying ‘what?’, so the Princess fluttered his eyelashes beckoning him over; which he promptly did. “Why the fuck are you lookin’ at me like that?” he asked as soon as he was in earshot. “Can I buy a new pencil, please~” “Ask ‘im how much they are, then we’ll see.” He said, ignoring the flirtatiousness in Arin’s voice. Arin tugged on Dan’s jumper sleeve in excitement, before searching for the owner of the store. But he missed the small smile that appeared on the Captain’s face. He was really having a good time with the Princess. ‘Snap out of it, you fool.’ He thought to himself, shaking his head a little as if to rid the thought.

“Excuse me,” Arin asked, turning back to Dan for a split second. He caught the owner’s eyes when he looked back, “how much are your sketching pencils?” “Ah, those are one fifty each.” “Thank you.” Arin said, “I’ll be right back.” He saw Dan standing near the open window of the store, eyes closed, taking in the sun. The Princess almost didn’t want to disturb him, he looked so peaceful. “They’re one-“ “Yeah, I heard,” he interrupted, “let me get some money from The Aurum.” Arin nodded, surprised when the Captain grabbed his hand and pulled him along too.

Dan took a more leisurely speed when walking back, almost like he didn’t want the somewhat romantic moment to end. It didn’t last long at all. In no time, they were back at the S. Barry stood at the bow of it, like he was waiting for the return of his captain, and the princess.

“Let’s go.” Dan said as soon as he helped Arin on board. Barry nodded, and told the crew to anchor up. “But- What about my pencils?!” The Princess argued, lightly stomping his foot, being careful of the delicate wood. Dan still hadn’t let go of his hand and pulled him into his own quarters. “You said I could buy a pencil. Why did you lie to me?” He whimpered. The Captain walked over to his berth, ignoring the question, and started pulling things out from his jumper pockets. “Come’ere.” He said, beckoning Arin over to where he was. Arin just sniffled, looking at his tattered shoes, tears starting to roll down his face. “Arin,” he called again, “could you come here… please.” Eventually he complied, dragging his shoes against the floorboards as he walked over. “What.” He said sharply. But Dan ignored it. “Fuckin’ look.” Was all he said. So Arin did, and he was shocked. There on the berth was a new sketchbook, eight sketching pencils, and the watercolour set! “When did you get these?” He asked in amazement. “… At the fucking store? You were there, remember?” “Well yes! But when? I never saw you talk to the owner.” A sudden rush of realisation hit the Princess like a train, “you stole them!” The Captain raised a large hand to run it through his hair, with a ‘what do you expect’ look on his face. “I’m sorry I’m not fucking made of money like you are, Arin.” Dan snapped. This shut the Princess up, though more tears fell from his eyes. Dan made a mistake. He didn’t want to be the reason Arin was upset. He didn’t mean to make him cry, and it hurt him. “I-I’m sorry…” He said. He took one step closer to Arin and stretched out his arms. Arin jumped a little when Dan held him, but he soon settled and hugged the Captain back. There was no movement for a few seconds before Dan started to rub small circles on Arin’s back, calming him down almost immediately.

A few minutes after Arin’s tears and sniffles subsided, they were still embraced when a gentle knock on the doorframe interrupted their quiet moment. “Excuse me, Captain.” Barry said, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we await you and the Princess at the table.” Then he left. Dan was the first to speak. “Uhmm... We don’t usually eat at a table…” He said, confused. “I didn’t even know there was a table on the ship! I would be drawing there otherwise, not invading your personal space all the time!” Arin quipped. “…but I like you in my space…” He said quietly, letting his arms fall from around the Princess. “Oh? You do?” The Princess said, a smirk forming on his face. “Fuck yeah!” Arin rolled his eyes at the curse, but continued to listen, “But like, I’m not just saying that to get into your pants. I really fucking like having you around. You’re just so fuckin’ soft, and caring, and lovable. You’re fuckin’ super cute too, and I love watching you draw, you just look so focused, and sometimes you stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating really fuckin’ hard. It makes me wanna fuckin’ kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t ‘cause you’re like totally younger than me, and it would be weird, and I don’t know what my crew will think of me, ya know?” Arin was speechless, and he now had a permanent blush on his face, but one statement Dan said caught Arin’s attention. “Y-You want to kiss me?” Dan’s eyes widened, his thoughts were just rolling right of his tongue, and he was speaking so fast. He didn’t realise he’d said that. “Uhh-“ “Because I wouldn’t mind kissing you too… If you still feel that way…” He looked at Arin in surprise, but quickly nodded. He didn’t want the awkwardness of it all linger too much. They both faced the other, leaning closer and closer. Then Arin backed off with a laugh. “Sorry, I’ve never done this before.” He said sheepishly, running a hand through his locks. “Oh, it’s uh… It’s not that hard. Just uh... go with the flow I guess?” “Okay… I’ll just- I’ll just- yeah.” Arin laughed, not really knowing how to explain it. Dan started to giggle too, the Princess liked that sound very much. But without warning, Arin leant forward, their lips colliding, maybe a bit to hard in the Captain’s opinion. Nonetheless, it was a kiss. Arin’s first kiss. Their first kiss. It wasn’t anything special, it didn’t need to be. But when Arin pulled himself away from Dan, a smile plastered on his face that, added to the blush, looked ‘cute as fuck’ in the Captain’s mind. All Arin could think about was how cute Dan looked in that moment. His big doe eyes, and his goofy smile. This is why he liked him, he was just too pure to be a pirate. Hard but soft at the same time. Mean, but also kind. They kissed once more, gentler this time, then headed down to the dinner table.

“Jeez, were you makin’ out up there? What took you so long?” One crew member called when they walked into the room. Dan ignored the question, tugging the Princess to sit next to him. “What’s all this?” He asked, “We don’t usually bring out the table.” “It’s very important, Cap. We promise.” Another crewman said. “We’ve got another ship here with an important message!” Dan is surprised to hear this, standing up quickly and heading out onto the deck to see what they have to say.

On their starboard, Dan notices that there is a small schooner floating next to The Aurum, the flag bearing ornate and royal seals. “I bring a message for Princess Arin, it’s from the Queen.” A man says from onboard. “I think you should fuckin’ leave.” The Captain strictly said, turning back around, and walking towards the Princess. “Come on, dinner’s going cold.”

#egobang #alternate universe #commissioned piece #fanfic #polygrumps #shipgrumps #this is my writing!#mine #im-not-so-sin

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upthenorthmountain · 8 years ago

Text

Between the Lines - 5

I am ON FIRE

Previous Chapters

This chapter rated T

Chapter 5 - Winchester and Salisbury

“You know you like her. What are you going to do about it?” Katja had said. And then started talking about Lindsay. Or was she just mentioning Lindsay in front of Anna to see what happened?

What was he going to do about it? He didn't know yet. Much as he got annoyed whenever his family tried to pair him off with any woman that came into his orbit, he did like Anna. He was crap at making a move, though. And they still had a couple of weeks of touring together. He wouldn’t do anything just yet.

-----

They contemplated the cathedral wall.

“Is it the real one?” Anna asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It looks really old, is it the real one?”

“You know King Arthur and his round table is a myth, right? A story?”

“Stories can be real.” She walked over and read the sign. “Oh, it says it's 13th century - that's still pretty old.”

“We need to get back to the bookshop.”

“I know. But I bet you didn't think you'd see King Arthur's actual Round Table today, did you?”

“It's not -” He stopped. “It's not nice to wind people up.”

Anna grinned at him. “There's a cathedral in Salisbury as well, isn't there? But maybe one is enough for a weekend.”

“Probably.”

They strolled out and down the road, back towards the shops. Kristoff’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hi, Mum.”

“Happy birthday, love!”

“Thanks.”

Anna must have overheard, because her face was a picture of surprise. It’s your birthday? she mouthed at him, and he nodded and turned slightly away. “Yeah, we were a bit early so we went and had a walk round the cathedral - heading back now though. Two. Yeah, I don’t know - OK. Speak to you later.” He hung up.

“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me! I didn’t get you a present or a card or anything. I would have made you a cake! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”

“Remind me to ring my mum back after we’re finished, will you? She thought I was on at three and I don’t really have time for a chat now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“Because - I didn’t want you to make a fuss.”

“But now I feel bad.”

“It’s fine. Really. I’m not bothered much about birthdays.”

Anna trudged along beside him, her expression thoughtful.

“Anna.”

“Mm?”

“Promise me you won’t do anything. I’m serious.”

“Define - do anything.”

“Don’t get me a present, or a card, or a cake.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, fine. You’re no fun.”

“I can be fun.”

“At least let me take you somewhere nice this evening, for dinner.”

“Alright. But no telling the waiter it’s my birthday.”

“No fun at all.”

-----

Anna did get over-excited and tell the waiter it was Kristoff’s birthday. Fortunately, she’d not chosen a restaurant where that earnt him a song, just a sparkler in his dessert, and he could live with that. It was also walking distance from the hotel - “So you can have a drink on your birthday” - and afterwards they wandered back along the street.

“You didn’t ring your mum,” Anna said as they waited to cross the road.

“Oh, shit. No. I’m going to be in trouble.”

“Kristoff’s in trouble with his mother,” Anna sang, walking slightly too carefully as they crossed to the opposite pavement.

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“No I haven’t. I’m just a bit cheerful. Let’s not go back just yet, let’s do something.”

“What? I think everyone else in Winchester has gone to sleep.”

“Then come back to my room for a drink.”

“Water, I assume, since Travel Taverns don’t exactly have mini bars.”

“Hmm. Okay, wait here. Right here.” She left him, crossed the road, and disappeared into the Tesco Express. Five minutes later she came out with a carrier bag.

“Sorted.”

-----

“Come with me.” Anna opened her hotel room door and waved Kristoff inside. He perched on the dressing table stool as she swept clothes, books and various other random items off her bed and into her suitcase, then opened her Tesco bag and held up a bottle of vodka. “Ta da!”

“Straight vodka?”

“No, wait…” She put the bottle down and took out a carton of Tesco Value orange juice. “I’ve thought of everything.”

Anna went into the bathroom and came out with the two tooth-glasses, then poured a measure of vodka into one and a double measure into the other, before topping them up with the juice.

“Why do I get twice as much?”

“It’s your birthday! And you’re twice the size of me, I can’t have you drinking me under the table.” She drank half her drink straight down. “Mm. Okay. Truth or dare.”

“What?”

“Truth or dare. Go on.”

Anna sat on the edge of the bed and grinned at him.

“How old are we?” Kristoff said.

“Well if you’re scared, you can ask me first.”

“Fine. Whatever. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I don’t know. Finish your drink.”

“That’s a boring one,” she said, but she drained it and then poured herself another. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare, if you can think of anything.”

“Of course I can! OK. During your Q&A tomorrow, you have to say the word ‘reindeer’ at least once.”

“Reindeer?”

“I was trying to think of something - nordic.”

“I don’t write about reindeer.”

Anna shrugged. “That’s your dare.”

“Fine. Truth or dare.”

“Truth, since you can only think of rubbish dares.”

“I can’t promise to think of better questions.”

“Well, try.”

“Hmm.” He swigged his drink. “This is a bit strong. OK. When’s your birthday?”

“You could’ve asked me that any time. Twenty-first of June.”

“I suppose you expect a present.”

“Obviously.” She took Kristoff’s empty glass from him and refilled it. “Your turn, truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you really break up with your girlfriend? Lindsay.”

“God, really?”

“Tell me. I’m nosy. I’m never going to meet her, what does it matter.”

He sighed. “Have you ever woken up next to someone and realised that they aren’t the person you fell in love with? They’ve changed, and you’ve changed, and you just don’t - fit the way you used to. Some people get together young and they grow together, we grew apart.”

“I’m sorry.”

He took a swig of his drink. “But everyone said we were such a great couple, and thought we were perfect together, that was what made it hard. You heard Katja! And I still get it from my mother. Jesus. She wouldn’t have me even if I wanted to, anyway. It was 100% mutual. The break-up.”

“I have never had a break-up like that. God, you’re such a grown-up.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes...I miss having someone, you know? I sold those TV rights a couple of weeks after we broke up and my first thought was to call her, then, oh, right, I shouldn’t. That was tough.”

Anna stared into space for a minute. “I have an idea! Instead of truth or dare, we’ll play ridiculous lie or dare. Ask me, go on.”

“Uh - ridiculous lie or dare?”

“Ridiculous lie.”

“Um. Do you have any children?”

“Yes! I have - seventeen children.”

“What’re their names?”

“Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble, Grub, Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, Peter - is that seventeen?”

“I have no idea. I don’t think so.”

“Robbie, Gary, Mark, Howard, Jason, Violet, Hyacinth, Rose…..maybe that’s enough. I don’t know. Ridiculous lie or dare.”

“Ridiculous lie.”

“Excellent. Great. Hmm - what’s your house like inside?”

“Very gothic. Battlements and gargoyles and big oak doors. Dungeons.”

“As I suspected. Dungeons? Like Fifty Shades of Grey?” She laughed.

“EXACTLY like Fifty Shades of Grey, in fact, they filmed some of it there.” She was still giggling so he continued, “I wanted to star in it but they wouldn’t let me, said I was too handsome.”

Anna fell on her back on the bed, still laughing. “Oh god. You see! You can be fun when you try.”

“Don’t tell anyone, for god’s sake, I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

Anna’s laughter slowly faded. She shifted and her skirt fell to one side, exposing nearly her full leg. “Ridiculous lie,” she said.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Grey. Or brown. A grey-ish brown. The colour of boredom. Ridiculous lie or dare.”

“Dare.”

She looked at him sideways. Her hair was lying in copper waves around her face, her top was half-off one shoulder. She shifted her legs again and revealed another inch of thigh. “Kiss me.”

Kristoff opened his mouth but couldn’t think what he wanted to say.

“You wouldn’t have come back to my room if you didn’t want to,” Anna continued, pushing herself up on her elbows.

She was right, that was the problem. His body didn’t feel entirely under his control as he stood and took the two steps over to the bed, as he sat next to her and leaned down until his face was just above hers. Anna slipped her hand round to the back of his neck and pulled him down to close the distance between their lips.

He kissed her. Her response was immediate, her lips moving against his, her fingers tangling in his hair, and he didn’t resist when she pulled him down with her onto the bed. It seemed fitting, or maybe just inevitable - of course this was how the evening was going to end. He kissed her, and let himself slide a hand round her waist, pulling her against him.

It wasn’t until Anna wiggled her hands round to her front and started unbuttoning his shirt that the klaxon in his head finally got his attention. He pulled his lips just far enough away from hers. “Anna. Anna, wait.”

“What?” She kept pulling at his shirt buttons.

“Anna, we’re drunk.”

“Hmm?” Half the buttons were undone now. Kristoff made a great effort and pushed himself up and away to sit on the bed next to her.

“You’re drunk,” he repeated. “We, we shouldn’t do this. I should go to my room.”

“M’not -” Anna pushed herself up on her elbows, then fell back again. “Woops,” she said vaguely. “Oh, god, you’re right. The room is going roun’ and roun’. You’re right. Fuuuuuck.” She screwed up her face.

Kristoff got to his feet. He started doing up his shirt, then decided it was too fiddly and there was no point. “G’night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mmm.” She looked up at him. “Y’sure? S’already gonna be really awkward tomorrow. Might as well make it worth it.”

“Goodnight, Anna.”

“Fine. Spoilsport.”

He let himself out.

---

what time do they stop driving ballasts

serving

breakfast

9 I think

are you coming down for breakfast?

they’re starting to pack up

Anna?

---

“Hey.” Anna sat down at the table opposite Kristoff. It was 8:58; he’d almost given her up.

“Morning,” he said, and slid a plate and glass over to her. “They were starting to tidy up so I got you your croissant and orange juice.”

“Oh - thank you - that was thoughtful, thank you.”

She fiddled with the glass. He said “Anna -” at the same time as she said “Kris -” and they both stopped.

“No, let me,” Anna continued. “I behaved really badly last night and I want to apologise -” she held up her hand when he opened his mouth - “I got drunk and I threw myself at you and it was stupid and I am HIDEOUSLY embarrassed, oh my god, I can’t believe I did that, and I’m so sorry and I would really like it if we could forget it ever happened.”

“It’s forgotten.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t let you take all the blame, though.”

Anna pulled a face. “Let’s just forget it and not talk about it any more. At least until my painkillers have kicked in. And I need to go back upstairs in a minute, I haven’t showered yet, or packed up or anything.”

“Sure, fine.”

She picked up her croissant and pulled it apart. “You don’t have to do the reindeer thing.”

“Pardon?”

“That is what I said, wasn’t it? You had to say reindeer in your Q&A? It’s okay, forget it.”

“Oh, yes, right. OK.” He looked at her, poking at her breakfast. “How about yours? Are you ready to drive to Salisbury and spend an hour with a group of excitable seven-year-olds?”

Anna looked at him bleakly, then put her face down on her folded arms.

#between the lines #kristanna #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au

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kdlovehg · 8 years ago

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Authors note ~ Happy valentine's day! If you celebrate it. Hope you enjoy this. It's my first ever one-shot for valentine's day so I'm proud of it. Hopefully someone like this. Thanks for reading! This is my submission for Love is @loveinpanem. To pluck a heart's rose. •~• •~• The red foil shines as the light from the fireplace reflects onto it. The fake rose lays at the bottom of the handcrafted frame housing the faded photo taken the day they met, exactly four years ago. Katniss was sleeping in the children's area of the library after reading the books of her childhood - the ones her dad had read to her mum whilst she was pregnant with her. She'd been volunteering at the local nursery and in her rush to leave she'd forgotten her library card, by the time she returned they'd closed for the day. Restless and desperate for some comfort she'd sat down to read but the sun shining through the blinds only aiding in lulling her to sleep. Next thing she saw was the comically wide eyes of a young 12 year old boy trying to crawl away from her. It took two years until he confessed about the photo. Apparently, he'd seen the small girl and assumed she was taking a nap, after all, didn't all sane teenagers do that? The boy - Peeta as she'd come to learn - was even more shy than she was, with dirty blonde hair that would block his sight and shirts with sleeves stretched out over his hands. He'd heard of valentine's day but in a house full of boys and with few friends he'd yet to actually prove that he could connect with a girl. Until he saw her. Quickly he had dusted off his father's camera, set the timer for ten seconds and crawled over to her. Katniss imagined he was poking his tongue out throughout the process as he had attempted to be sneaky and lift the sleeping girl's head so it was resting on his shoulder. Unfortunately, he said, that he was acting too bold for his age and attempted to kiss her. He succeeded, giving her a peck on the nose as the second flash went off, except as he moved away. Well she sneezed. 'I thought you were allergic to me' he'd told her shyly at the end of his story. He couldn't have been more wrong. That's why the valentine's gift made her want to cry. Four years later and he'd got her a half fake, half chocolate rose. Who would want that? She wouldn't have minded previously but they'd been together for a year now. He was her boyfriend. They were grown up. They progressed in their relationship. Oh yes, they were past nose kisses - although they were still ongoing. They'd moved onto eye contact. So a chocolate rose? Well Katniss wasn't a romantic or anything, and personally she thought that valentine's day was pointless, but surely he could have put a bit more effort into choosing her a gift. I mean she'd prepared his surprise gift for a week and all their pets came round to watch as they painted their favourite designs on each other, or at least he did as she gave him the supplies and made up stories for each image. Not to mention he had to live up to her parents standards who viewed love as sacrificing anything for a small smile. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Cause Katniss cared for him, however unintentional. Sometimes it seemed she was the only one. She picked it up as the door behind her creaked open. He's slow, heavy footsteps showed he was hesitant. Damn well should be. She sniffed. "Did, did you like it?" he stuttered as she turned to look at him. His hair hung over his glasses obscuring his vision just like it had years before. The dark green frames where her favourite colour and likewise the reading glasses she wore were his - a gentle orange. "Yeah" she whispered watching as he bit his lip and tugged the sleeves of his T-shirt over his hands. "It's" she searched for a word that he'd take as a compliment "sweet". "Well it is chocolate". She hummed and swayed slightly as they stood opposite each other, neither moving. From a look he could sense that she wasn't pleased with his gift. "But I... you like food" he says scratching his head as a blush spreads on his cheeks. "I mean that's what you said". "I did" she murmured trying to dismiss the feeling of sadness that his gift caused. "But it's not cheese buns" she replies, grateful that she found an excuse. Peeta clears throat and uses his sleeve covered hand to wipe at his glasses, a nervous tic she's noticed. "I can make you some if you like. Its past eight but I'll stay up past my bedtime and run to the bakery if you-". "No" she interrupts pausing as she remembers the curfew his mother made him follow since he was born. If he ran home and got caught then he'd probably end up with a beating from the woman, though for some reason she doubts he wouldn't do it for her. He was odd like that. "It's okay". He gestures to the gift as his voice cracks during his attempt at a romantic speech, "You rose above all other girls and stole my well you know..." he blushes and evades my eyes "my heart and my... I shouldn't finish that sentence. I'm not old enough to. So um could you be my valentine?". She replied with her a small smile and a pun of her own. "Rye wouldn't I?". Katniss lifts up the rose with a smile. "I guess I'll go um, eat this. Thanks". He huffs, the breath blowing his curls up before they lazily drift back down. "Can I just. Do you mind if I...". "What?" he shuffles over at the sight of her furrowed eyebrows and pecks her cheek, his thumb brushing against it as she blushes as though trying to wipe it away. Ease her discomfort. She blushed harder. •~• •~• •~• •~• She stumbles down the stairs as she recalls what happened prior to the nap Peeta took with her. She remembered crying after she'd ate the rose and was left with a plastic stem. She'd wasted his gift and was too embarrassed to admit that she'd have preferred a real flower even if it would've died a day later. It seemed only she would make the sacrifices in their relationship. Yet soon as he saw her bloodshot eyes peeta dragged her into the kitchen and melted down some chocolate so that he could make her some more roses in an attempt to cheer her up. Katniss argued that valentine's day was over at 12:01 but Peeta explained that the time zones were different in every district so technically they had at least four hours left of valentine's day. That made her smile. She still didn't think he deserved her. But he'd do anything for a small smile. He was odd like that. So very odd. Whilst it was melting on the stove he showed her how to pipe flowers and imprint a design into ingredients like flour which consequently ended with her giggling and Peeta standing in the room blushing despite being covered in flour. As they settled into the last hour, they had drawn their name and the date into the chocolate before placing it in the freezer to act like a little fossil that they could eat in the morning. They had then sat on the floor and he wrapped his arms around her with a promise to spend their next valentine's day at the beach. How she got to her room she doesn't know but that doesn't mean she regrets it. Katniss strolled over to the fridge and pulled out some of the chocolate before she sat down and began to read the book logs of their savings. Her nose crinkled at the taste. The chocolate seemed different than the rose, which she resigned to the idea that however useless a gift it was it made her happy if only for a moment. The chocolate was still flavourful and would melt within seconds if she didn't chew but it didn't seem as rich. The rose must have been dark chocolate? But that must be artificial. No-one can afford real dark chocolate. Well unless they were from the Capitol which her and Peeta weren't. She flips open the log and scans through the records. Income from bakery, coins spent on trade. A violet coughing racked her body and she clung to the table, squeezing her eyes shut as she heard his footsteps thumping down the stairs. Forcing herself up she ran to the sink to get a drink of water, trying not to choke herself in the process. A deduction. They were missing at least 3/4 of their college funds, or at least Peeta's. She knew he'd been saving. They both had. That money would have taken almost his whole life to earn. Did he give it away? Damn his mannerisms. "Peeta" she screamed slamming the empty cup down, her eyes darting around rapidly. Sixteen times two meant thirty years. He couldn't wait thirty years to go to learn. "What the hell? Where's the money? You son of-". She jerks to a stop. A labeled tag lays among their rubbish. Crumpled and torn she catches a glimpse of the words written. "Peeta... what?" her voice trails off as she goes silent, stunned. {Authentic Gourmet Chocolate, Hand Crafted. Distribution - Capital.} The familiar price lays scrawled at the bottom as she gapes at it with a small phrase. {Love is sacrificing all for the smile of someone who sees you as no-one.} She doesn't deserve him. Oh no. Oh no. Her gaze collides with his as she blinks back tears. He flattens his hair down. Straightens his glasses and with a shy smile, he shrugs. "Happy valentine's katniss".

#submission #valentine's day #love in panem #Everlark #Peeta #katniss #shy #fanfic #ao3 #enjoy

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missflyingsolo-blog · 8 years ago

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Challenge time...

So some of you who know me well are starting to realise the flaw in my plan… Have you guessed it yet?

It’s kind of obvious…

It’s quite funny really. An entire blog all about getting a life, for somebody who has no life!

I think I’ll find I will soon be running out of material!

Outside of working hours I spend most of my time watching box sets of Grey’s Anatomy and reading countless retellings of Pride and Prejudice and walking my dogs (who I treat like my children, seen as though I won’t be having actual children anytime soon!). So I suppose that was the point of me starting this blog, to get out of my comfort zone and leave the house!

I’ve recently been putting the credit card to good use and been booking all sorts of things in an attempt to make my life more interesting! So believe it or not there may be plenty to look forward to (or more for you to be pestered into reading if you are not enjoying this blog as much as I am).

I’ve been trying to keep an open mind when booking things, so some of the next chapters of this blog may include, a couple more theatre trips (the Wedding Singer, the Commitments, oh and the Wicked tour!) and a flashback to my childhood with the Steps tour! There’s even a Newcastle trip, a spa break and a Scooby Doo murder mystery night! It wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t some kind of Harry Potter themed event thrown in for good measure as well, and I’ve even got my very first hen do coming up! (Followed by the wedding of course, very exciting!)

But something I’m especially looking forward to (apart from my first cruise trip to explore Vancouver and Alaska, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned that yet….) is my upcoming trip to see Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons!!!!!

To some people this may seem very strange, but I am obsessed with Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. I mean I even named my dog Frankie! So the chance to see the real life Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons is not to be missed. It’s even the actual Frankie Valli! Granted the Four Seasons line up has probably change about 30 times by now but the main man will be there!

I am starting to worry it is a bad move. Perhaps it’s best to keep watching Jersey Boys and imagine the Four Seasons as they were back in the day, perhaps Rose coloured glasses is the way forward? Maybe the reality of the Four Seasons fifty years later will be spoil the image? Only time will tell!

So I’m going to finish by saying that even though I’m starting to fill my diary with lovely things to do, there are still plenty of empty spaces. The main point of today’s blog is to invite you to a little challenge. Or more likely for you to invite me to a little challenge. Let’s fill up my diary with things to do and the comments section with some ideas! If you can think of something fun to do, make a suggestion and maybe it might be the next chapter of this blog?

#frankievalli fourseasons jerseyboys challengetime

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littlemissshortypants-blog1 · 8 years ago

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#1 100 Random Facts About Me!

I've decided to set myself a blog challenge for March which entails publishing a post everyday! I've already failed with this as this post is a day late but it wasn't as easy as I thought! So here goes #1 100 Facts About Me! 1. I'm named after the song 'Kayleigh' (shocker right?) by Marillion but I actually don't really like that song. 2. I prefer my middle name (Rose) to my last name (Allan). 3. I've had several nicknames including Kayleigh Allan, Kayls, Kayleigh-Steve, Steve and Little Miss Shorty Pants. 4. If I was born just over a week later, I would have been in the year below. I'm only a baby. 5. I'm a bit like a penguin; clumsy but adorable ;) 6. I've only ever been on a plane once (which is going to change very soon!) 7. I'm spending my summer working at an American summer camp in North Carolina and also by going on a North American road trip with added time in Orlando and New York (have I mentioned that already?) 8. I don't drink alcohol. It's not really something which appeals to me. People always try and get me to drink and often tell me 'it's just like pop' to which I respond 'yes, so I can just drink pop'. Perhaps it's also to do with the fact I don't like the idea of not being in control, everyone complains afterwards and it's expensive! 9. I'm good at not giving in to peer pressure. 10. I believe that you can have a good time without drinking alcohol but most of the time people think I'm drunk anyway because I'm a crazy gal. 11. I've never had a proper boyfriend (yet). 12. I'm a little (a lot) obsessed with musicals. 13. Aaron Tveit is my number one celeb crush (and when we watched Assasins featuring him, my best friend and I held hands all the way through). 14. But Jeremy Jordan, Wesley Taylor, Gideon Glick, Ben Fankhauser, Ramin Karimloo and George Blagden (the list goes on) are up there too. 15. I once got dried paint stuck in my eye as a kid and had to go to hospital. I vividly remember there was also a kid there who had broccoli stuck up his nose. 16. It took me three whole appointments at the opticians until I was able to wear contact lenses. 17. I broke my leg when I was younger by falling off a scooter. 18. As a kid I used to be scared of Santa Claus. 19. I once got admitted to hospital because I refused to take this disgusting orange medicine (which I can remember the taste of now). 20. I was deputy head girl and a prefect at high school and helped the head girl run the student council. 21. I never took drama at gcse but the career I'm heading into is acting. 22. I spend the majority of my wages on show tickets. But it benefits the career I am going to go into so it's not a waste of my money as some people seem to think. 23. I've performed onstage with Alfie Boe at The Echo Arena. (After a theatre group I was involved in bombarded him with tweets on twitter). 24. I've lived in Liverpool for a year studying musical theatre on a Dance and Drama Award. 25. I left my 3 musical theatre course after a year so I'm currently on a gap year and I'm loving it. I've learnt so much about myself and other people and I've also met lots of new people. 26. I'm a chocoholic. 27. I also love peanut butter (and almond butter and pretty much any other nut butter). 28. I'm easily distracted by anything pink and sparkly. 29. I've been to Disneyland Paris twice. 30. I've been a part of an original musical written by one of my friends. 31. My favourite film is Back to The Future and I can recite lots of phrases from it. 32. I've never read or watched the whole Harry Potter series (but I am in the process of reading the books so don't shoot me!) 33. I love learning new things, having new experiences and exploring new places. 34. I'm very small. Like below average height. People think I'm still 15... 35. I have a pen pal from Germany who I've been writing to for over a year. 36. I am a really fussy eater. I used to never touch any food that was saucy, sloppy or slimy. I've gotten better but I still tend to ask for most of my meals plain. 37. I really like twitter. I think it's good form of social media to meet new people and find out news about the world. 38. I help run a twitter account for a musical theatre site named Act 1 Act 2. 39. I once volunteered at Leeds Festival; it was my first time camping and my tent leaked. 40. My favourite Ben and Jerry's flavour is Phish Food. 41. I am an only child. 42. I like vintage things and wish I had more vintage clothes so I could establish my own quirky style. 43. My favourite TV series (which I can think of right now) are Red Dwarf, Friends, It Could be Worse, Chewing Gum and Miranda. 44. I really want to get hidden rainbow roots in my hair. 45. I'm (supposedly) allergic to Rabbits, Cats and household dust? Cats do make me feel on edge though so maybe that's a good thing for me... 46. I often get asked if me and my best friend are twins/sisters because apparently we look alike (Our families have gotten us confused at times?!) 47. My guilty pleasure is secret eating. You can often find me sneaking in the kitchen to get snacks shhh. 48. I attract some really weird guys but never actually anyone I like. 49. I'm a Disney fan. My favourite princess is Rapunzel. 50. I enjoy travelling and my favourite way to travel is by train. I feel like a lot can be accomplished on a journey. 51. I took art at college and for one of my projects I made a corset, tutu and waistcoat based on Assassins the musical. 52. I can fold my tongue in half and keep it there without using my teeth to hold it there. 53. I hardly ever burp and when I do it shocks me because it's not something that usually occurs. 54. I can listen to a musical soundtrack on repeat. At the moment it's Dear Evan Hansen which I've just booked tickets to! #firstbroadwayshow 55. I would like to write a book/play one day. 56. I would also like to star in a one woman play and I admire the people I see perform in them (when they're good of course.) 57. I played a Geordie version of the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella in which I wore a Mad Hatter outfit and put pegs in my sparkly, coloured back combed hair... 58. I have been in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat as part of the children's choir several times and can recite every word (and pretty much action) of the show. On my last performance I swapped seats with a friend so that I could spend my last performance on the top step. 59. I once got asked if I was from Scotland? (By a Southerner) 60. I'm often told I speak posh or very northern. There's no in between. 61. I work in The Blackpool Tower Ballroom. 62. I worked at Strictly last year and Anton Du Beke blew me a kiss. 63. Toasted scones from work is my favourite smell. I think I have acquired an unhealthy obsession with them since working there tbh... 64. I could probably recall all the names of the dances done at the ballroom but not actually dance any. 65. I rode to prom in a camper van. 66. I got 100% on my first acting assignment during my first year of higher education. 67. I once did some method acting and went out dressed as a made up character with a crutch and speaking with a stutter...(I created the character from a random picture shown to me from the internet which happened to be a ridiculously obese woman). I also played Medviedenko from The Seagull which resulted in me borrowing my best friend's boyfriend's clothes and drawing a beard on my face. Additionally, I played Scullery from Road; a homeless alcoholic... 68. I don't swear unless I have to on stage. 69. I've climbed a waterfall with a fractured little finger. 70. I studied German at GCSE and I can only remember a few words/phrases (one being Guten Tag) 71. I've played Miss Dorothy in Thoroughly Modern Millie and July in Annie. 72. I love people watching. 73. I'm terrible at accents. 74. I like tall guys in suits and glasses. 75. It annoys me when people think 'writ' is a word. It's 'I have written' or 'I wrote'. 76. I tend to cry when I'm not expecting to but not when I do expect to. 77. I cried my eyes the whole way through the second act of Book of Mormon because I found it absolutely hilarious (so much so the actors were laughing at me because I was on the front row). 78. I remember once when I was a kid I swung on a curtain in someones house and got kicked out. 79. In primary school I remember having a water fight with my friend in the toilets and got told I wasn't allowed to partake in IT so has to read a book instead 80. I've climbed a volcano in, snorkelled in the sea and been in a submarine in Lanzarote. 81. It makes me angry when people leave the theatre during the bows, before the show has fully finished. I've only done it on one occasion and that was at the interval (because the show was absolutely unbearable and it meant I could get home before silly 'o clock in the morning) The show was supposed to present Shakespeare's character's death's humorously but I'm pretty sure I didn't laugh once and one section of the show even included watching a fake fly buzzing on a camera for a good 5 minutes. 82. It also annoyes me when people eat (loudly) during a performance. Have some respect for the actors. 83. I hate not having a plan (especially when I'm on a holiday to a new place). 84. I have a wide taste in music. My Spotify playlists range from musicals (of course) to pop punk to rock to pop to folk to jazz...it's safe to say I like a little bit of everything (apart from dubstep because that's just a no no). 85. I have high aspirations and I've very critical of myself. 86. I once went on a tinder date (don't think I'll be doing that again anytime soon). 87. I love milkshakes and hot chocolate. 88. The theatre cafe is my favourite cafe. 89. My favourite Starbucks syrup is gingerbread. 90. Sometimes bus drivers just charge me for a child on the bus without me asking. 91. I once played Oliver in a high school show and was faced with some onstage disasters...when being pushed into a wooden coffin, (a disaster in itself) my mic pack fell off and I picked up a tape measure instead. The big long napkin string thing I had to pickpocket out of Fagin's pocket had already fallen out so instead of picking it up I mimed stealing it and I also thought a 'nightcap' was a literal night cap, as apposed to a drink one drinks before bed. 92. I cried for a full hour when my high school music teacher told me he was leaving. 93. My uncle lives in Australia but I've never been there or seen him since I was a baby. 94. My favourite type of monkey is a squirrel monkey. 95. I'm really pale and barely tan. Once I got sun stroke at West End Live and threw up all the way home on the Coach for 6 hours...the sunburn was still visible 6 months after. 96. I tried peanut butter and jam together for the first time the other day and it was actually really nice. 97. I'm probably the most indecisive person you will ever meet. 98. I want to live in London one day (and potentially New York). 99. I ask for steak well done and my favourite type of steak is rump. 100. I don't drink coffee but you'll always find me in a coffee shop.

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