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theasstour · 5 years ago

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𝓞𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓼𝓶 𝓫𝔂 𝓟𝓪𝓾𝓵𝓪 𝓐𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪 𝓟𝔂𝓵𝓮

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 16.3k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: biggest thanks to @shepherald for being bb’s italian auntie! ilysm!

Friday, 2 August 2019

Y/N was just about to start cleaning up her dinner when three knocks sounded from her front door. She looked over at Viola who slept peacefully in their bed, not even opening an eye to look in the direction of the taps. Her mind instantly went to who could possibly be knocking on her door. It wouldn’t be Salvatore after last night, Y/N had a suspicion he might not want to confront the situation, only let it slide by till it was irrelevant and gone. Neither would it be Rin or Meo, they were mates with Salvatore but Y/N knew they were their own people and would probably have gone to check on her if they actually knew where she lived. It wouldn’t be Gioele, neither Jamie. And just like that, she was running out of people it could be.

She walked to the door, opening it so her head could stop spinning with possible outcomes to what was about to happen. But she started dizzying even more when she saw who stood there.

“Harry.”

He was wearing his dungarees again, another one of his white tank tops, and pink Converse. When she opened the door and said his name, he looked up from the ground. The alcohol from last night had worn off, the lack of sleep he’d gotten and a slight headache showed in the small circles under his eyes and tired irises. He ran a hand through his hair, getting a curl away from before his eyes. Y/N hadn’t thought Harry would show up, even after what happened the night before. She herself didn’t quite understand the whole situation; why it had been hard to sleep last night because she couldn’t get the feeling of Harry’s lips against her skin out of her head. She remembered everything so incredibly clearly, every little detail. And now Harry was here. Out of free will. Knocking at her door. The day after he’d stood up for her in that pub and kissed her hand.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice weak as he probably hadn’t spoken till now today. Quickly, he cleared his throat.

Y/N looked over at her kitchen, but Viola stroking her back against her leg stopped her from answering. A small meow and a flick of her tail later, and Harry was hunched down, petting her. Y/N just watched as Viola closed her eyes and moved closer to Harry, purring her approval of him being there. Swiftly, he picked her up, hugging her to his chest while scratching Viola behind her ears. Harry looked from Viola and at Y/N, encouraging her to answer his previous question. However, it was hard when someone who had all her emotions kind of confused and her stomach doing funny things, stood right before you cuddling your cat, looking all adorable and insanely sexy at the same time. She scratched at her neck, keeping her eyes on Viola.

“About to make some dinner.” She said.

“And how is it?”

Her eyes met his, a little taken aback by his interest in something as simple as what her dinner was going to be. “Good.” She simply replied, not really knowing what else he wanted her to say.

“So you’re doing okay? After last night?”

She felt herself take a huge inhale of air along with the tingles that ran up her spine, all the way out to her fingertips. Something about Harry needing to know she was alright got to her; something about the urgency in his voice made her entire body sing with a feeling she couldn’t quite put a word to. Biting her lips together, she tried to calm her goosebumps before speaking again.

“Depends on which part you’re referring to.”

“All of it.” He said, Viola stroking her forehead against his jawline. “The bar…” he trailed off, swallowing hard as his jaw tensed for a single second. “Fucking Salvatore touchin-“ he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Me coming back to your flat, us talking…” she could tell he was going to say more, but thought better of it.

“Okay with everything.” She answered and she could just see the sigh of relief that left Harry. “Besides the Salvatore bit, of course. But… he acted like that before you came into the pub anyway-“

“-He what?”

Her mouth fell open and she looked into his eyes again. “He was drunk-“

“-That’s no excuse, Y/N. Did he make you uncomfortable?”

He’d never acted like this before. The only other time he had showed that he didn’t stand for people mistreating her was the night before, other than that he hadn’t been particularly nice to her either. But, somewhere along the line, that must’ve changed. And she supposed it must’ve changed for her as well. That still didn’t make this whole situation less surreal. Harry truly did care about her, in his own way. It was all a lot.

“Well?” he asked, still petting Viola, though the movements of his hand were a little hasty.

“Yes.”

Harry inhaled sharply through his nose, looking about him as anger visibly clouded his eyes and appeared in every single one of his limbs. She could tell he wanted to find Salvatore and say or do God knows what. He was about to walk down the stairs, but then seemed to remember he was holding Viola. Desperately looking around for something, she started snickering a little to herself. He looked ridiculous. But it was somehow a little… cute.

“I’m gonna fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, but Y/N could kind of guess where it was going.

“Harry, it’s okay-“

“-I swear to God, Y/N, if you excuse his behaviour one more time I’m gonna go fucking berserk.”

Viola started moving around in Harry’s hands, getting restless, and the look on Harry’s face made Y/N chuckle again.

“What’re you laughing at? I’m serious.” He asked, trying to calm the little cat down by scratching her again.

“Nothing.” Y/N said, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she laughed again.

Just then, the right side of his lips tipped upward again as he watched her. Viola restless in his hands and a curl hanging before his eyes. He quickly looked away, though the smile he was trying to fight didn’t go completely away. Seeing him like that, all angry yet soft, made a slight heat rise to her cheeks, making her entire body react with it.

“If I ever see him again, I’m gonna bloody knock his teeth out.” Harry mumbled, hunching down and putting Viola down on the floor so she could walk back into the flat.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe. “Why?”

“Because… ‘cause…” he stammered, watching as Viola strolled into the flat safely before rising up into a straightened position. As their eyes met, Y/N could swear her heart skipped a little beat. Something about him in the bad lighting of the staircase made him look beautiful in another way than he did normally. It was the darkness of night, the promise that darkness held. The uncertainty and possibilities a night held, like everything that was possible during the day could happen, only more intense and out of control; just the way you wanted it to happen, yet not how you imagined in the slightest.

“’Cause he made you uncomfortable.” He said finally.

She gave him a little smile. “And you don’t think I can tell him myself? That he stepped over a line?”

“Not that,” Harry shook his head a few times. “I believe you’re capable of whatever you put your stubborn fucking mind to.”

This made Y/N throw her head back a little to laugh. When she looked back at him, he was watching her with that tiny smile of his on his lips.

“Gonna stand behind you and let you tell him to fuck off and eat some bad mozzarella, and then-“

“-Random.”

Harry giggled. “Then I’m gonna step in and give him a nice punch straight to the nose.”

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head at him.

“I’ve done gymnastics for a reason, now I can throw a punch to his skull and break it if you’d like me to.”

She laughed, holding a hand to her chest. Their eyes met.

“Wanna go to the bakery now? Bet we’re just able to make it before they close.”

Chuckling, she said, “You’re mental.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“And as much as I would love to see you flatten Salvatore to the ground,” Harry snickered at her choice of words. “I don’t think violence is the way to go.”

He inhaled hugely, nodding his head as he let his eyes linger on her face, taking in her features for a few long seconds. “Fine, yeah. You’re right.”

She smiled at him. “Why’re you here anyway? To just stand there in my doorway?”

“Session.”

She frowned. “What, now?”

“Yes, so get dressed, we’re going for a drive.” He said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dungarees. He turned, beginning on his walk down the stairs to the ground floor. “10 minutes.” He simply shouted over his shoulder, not giving her anything else before he disappeared, giving her no choice but to do as he asked.

Quickly, she got ready as she always did. Found a pair of knee socks, her doc Martens, the dress, and everything else she might need for their session. Harry always gave her a day or so notice before they had a session, but he’d never done this before. She didn’t know what she thought he was doing at her door now anyway, but maybe she’d forgotten about a mail he’d sent her? Maybe he’d told her days ago and she’d just forgotten? This wasn’t like him at all. However, she wasn’t about to tell him that. She was very spontaneous herself, so seeing Harry – someone that was usually her opposite in that sense – be spontaneous as well, not go according to his usual plans, made her feel something she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before. She gave Viola a quick kiss to the forehead before she ran outside, locked the door, and then went downstairs to catch Harry.

He was standing there with his yellow moped, all his equipment and bag on the ground beside him. She huffed a little.

“We’re taking your moped?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Now hop the fuck on.”

“Y/N!”

They both looked further up the road where a figure was moving toward them in the dark of the evening, waving an arm and laughing a familiar laughter. She recognised him instantly, smiling back at him.

“Marco!” She stepped away from the door into her building, closing it firmly behind her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answered, stopping as he reached them. “Just closed the Panetteria.”

Y/N chanced a look at Harry who was already staring at her. They both undoubtedly thought of the same thing; their conversation earlier, and how if they were quick enough, they could make the bakery before it closed so Harry could give Salvatore a black eye. She bit her lip a little before looking back at Marco, who looked at her just as happily as before.

“You’re coming to the wedding 9th August, yes?” Marco asked, adjusting his glasses a little.

“We haven’t gotten the invitations yet.” Y/N pointed out, shrugging her shoulders a little.

“10am, 9th, the church in town. Signor Styles knows where it is.” Marco said, smiling at Harry standing beside Y/N. Harry gave the baker a little wave, stunning Marco so that he took a small step back. It was obvious the old man hadn’t initially expected a reaction from the painter. Marco laughed a little before looking back at Y/N. “La Serenata is the 8th.”

She furrowed her brows. “La what?”

“La Serenata.” Harry repeated, making Y/N glance his way again. “It’s this old Italian tradition, it’s fallen out of fashion in recent years, but people still tend to do it in Fosdinovo. Old village with old traditions and all that.” He shrugged. “The night before the wedding, the groom serenades the bride from outside her window in celebration of their impending union. Sometimes the bride will lower a basket of gifts such as prosciutto, bread, and cheese. It all symbolises her acceptance of the proposal a second time around.”

“That’s so cute!” Y/N grinned, looking at Marco again. “Where’d that be? The bride’s house?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the baker nodded “On Via Papiriana. Come, come!”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N sighed. “We don’t even know the couple.”

“You need to experience La Serenata! It’s Fosdinovo tradition!” Marco encouraged, using his arms enthusiastically as he spoke, and Y/N couldn’t help herself, she had to chuckle a little.

“Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Signor Styles too?”

Y/N and Marco both looked at Harry, who suddenly seemed uncomfortable with the attention they were giving him. He cleared his throat. “I’ll have a think about it.”

“He’ll be there, Marco. Thanks for inviting us.”

Marco gave them both a little bow, saying his goodbye and telling Y/N he’d see her soon. With that, the old baker started making his way up the road again, on his way home to relax after a day at work.

“What if I don’t wanna go?” Harry asked her, obviously annoyed she’d taken his spare time and plans into her own hands.

“You’ll have to show me to the bloody street, won’t you?” She looked at him, taking the helmet he was reaching out for her. “Let’s go, Signor Styles.”

“Don’t say that.”

She giggled, motioning for him to get on first as she took his bag on her back. He did, watching her as she got the rucksack on, making sure she was okay before he turned to put his hands on the handles. Unlike the time before, she wasn’t reluctant to be close to Harry now. She thought they might’ve stepped over that line last night when he kissed her hand, or when he chose for them to take his moped instead of letting Gioele drive them.

Getting on, she slid down the seat until her front was flush against Harry’s back, her exposed skin against his. Every single millimetre where her body met his, she was ultra-aware. It was like she’d grown some sort of new power; feeling the shifting of his cells against hers, feeling them intermingle and get familiar with one another. She bit her lip a little, wrapping her arms around his waist while he got the ignition going. As he placed his arm back against his form, the soft skin of the underside of his upper arm meeting hers, her entire body went up in flames. He was so soft, so opposite to what he’d shown her before last night, and she was starting to realise that she needed to take a much closer look at this man to get a better grasp of him. Taking a small glance over his shoulder to make sure she was comfortable and safe, Harry revved the engine, and they drove off again.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to recognise the road to Lerici. The night around them had made it hard for her to make it out at first, but she saw the sign welcoming them and then the little coastal town rose up around them. The familiar smell of salt in the air was refreshing, and she closed her eyes as she let it become everything she knew for a few moments. This time around, Harry didn’t drive them up the road to the cliff, but rather down a very small gravel path Y/N was sure was mainly made for pedestrians. Soon enough, they were by the tiny beach she’d seen from the cliff last time. There was no sign of anyone having ever been there, though she supposed the path made it evident that someone had. It seemed untouched and ancient, the kind of place you dreamed of and saw pictures of but never thought you’d actually see. But here she was.

Harry stopped the moped, cutting the engine and looking over his shoulder for Y/N to step off first. She took the helmet off first, before placing her hands on Harry’s shoulders, and – not so gracefully – stepping off. Harry tried getting off a little too early, causing Y/N, who was putting her weight on him, to stumble. The skirt of her dress rode up, exposing part of her upper thigh, some of her bum, and most definitely a small view of her knickers. She squealed, quickly straightening it all out before daring to look at Harry. He was watching her, clearly having stopped in the middle of his own process of getting off when he saw the whole scene unfold before him. As their eyes met, he quickly looked away. She thought she could just about make out a slight redness to his cheekbones that usually wasn’t there.

She gave him the helmet and he put it under the seat of the moped, biting his lips together. Instead of thinking about what had just happened, Y/N turned her attention back on the beach before her. She hadn’t noticed the full moon till now, how it was a little bigger tonight, how it shone in the dark ocean. If she didn’t know better, she thought this might’ve been Harry’s intention all along.

“Right,” Harry said, walking down toward the street. Y/N followed suit. “I need you to stand in the ocean.”

She frowned, giving the rucksack with all his equipment to him. He raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Then I’ll have to take my knee socks off.”

Harry’s eyes fell to her white knee socks where they lingered for a few seconds before he gave her a short nod and looked away. Y/N felt herself swallow quite hard, the effect of Harry’s stare running through her body like a wave of tickles. However, quickly recovering and not wanting Harry to know him looking at her like that had an effect on her, Y/N let out a laugh.

“What now?” he asked, refusing to look at her.

She was genuinely laughing now.

“Is this a piss take?”

She snorted. “They’re just my legs, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She raised her eyebrows, finding it amusing how he busied himself with his rucksack and everything else instead of looking at her. “You can look at me while I take them off.”

“Are you encouraging me to watch you undress?”

Y/N put her hand before her mouth as she laughed, not being able to help herself. She snorted, as she often did when she laughed hard enough, and though she remembered a time long ago when she used to be embarrassed of that sound, she wasn’t anymore. Opening her eyes, she saw Harry watching her now. Both his dimples showing along with small crinkles by his eyes, teeth bright in the moonlight. His shoulders and chest moved with laughter as well, and the sound sent shivers up Y/N’s spine.

She recovered, trying to calm herself down a little bit. Harry might be fit, but he was not allowed to have that kind of effect on her. She bent down, untying her docs, and stepping out into the sand with her socks on. Hooking her thumb and index finger on the inside of one of her knee socks, she slid it down her leg putting it in her shoes when it was off. Discreetly, she looked in Harry’s direction, only to notice him watching her. As soon as he saw her eyes on him, he looked away, clearing his throat before directing his attention at the positioning he wanted for the painting. She bit her bottom lip from smiling.

Now barefoot, Y/N started walking into the ocean, stopping when the water just reached her knees. She looked over her shoulder, waiting for Harry to redirect her as he hadn’t given her any clear directions as to how he wanted her to be standing for this one. However, he didn’t even acknowledge her looking at him. Instead, he was sat in the sand, the canvas propped on a small easel before him, and the paint palette in his hand. Cocking his head to the side, he started painting. Y/N looked ahead, taking in the yellow state of the moon that night.

“You know,” she started, listening to the waves softly hitting the shore around her. “You’ve never told me what this collection is about, like what you’re trying to tell. I’m assuming it’s a kind of story, innit?”

“You’ve never asked.” He replied, as if it was the most obvious answer.

“I need to ask?”

“You think I’m just gonna tell you?”

She bent down a bit, running her hand through the moving sea beneath her. “People who are passionate about stuff they’re doing tend to talk about it, and it’s also very fun to listen to them. Nice to listen to someone being happy. When people talk about something that keeps them living, you find a new reason to yourself.”

“Find a new reason to live in seeing someone else talk about something they’re passionate about?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Makes you see that there’s a reason for everyone out there. Though you might not have found your own yet, you will eventually, you know?”

Harry fell silent for a moment before, “I’m still not telling you.”

Y/N groaned, standing up straight again. “Why?”

“I just…” he shrugged. “Don’t wanna.”

She sighed. “You know, in order to properly make a connection with someone, you gotta open up to people.”

Waves crashed around them, filling the silence since Harry’s response didn’t. She dared to look over her shoulder at him, finding him already staring at her, pencil held up against the canvas, paused mid stroke. When their eyes met, Y/N had to concentrate on standing upright. It was hard to remain balanced when two intense eyes were unashamedly glancing at her, mulling over her words.

“That’s a heavy subject to be discussing on the beach at night.” Harry said before he went back to painting again.

Y/N smiled. “Isn’t that something we should be discussing on the beach at night? Seems like the right setting, doesn’t it? Poetic and all that.” She looked ahead again, staring at the big full and yellow moon before her. “Sorry, I won’t push you. I take it all back.”

“Thank you.” He said.

Y/N resorted to studying the landscape around her. She glanced up at the cliff where she had found Viola, where she had first seen Harry smile, and remembering all the times she’d seen him smile since. With all that, she realised how far they had come. Harry, who was so set on her following his rules he’d put for the summer and for her to follow his orders, that same bloke hadn’t told her how to stand for his painting today; he smiled at her; he showed up on her doorstep when he’d been the one to say he didn’t want a relationship with her outside work. Look at them now, she thought, feeling something in her chest warm up.

“You went quiet.” Harry said suddenly.

“Isn’t that good?” she asked, inhaling. “Remember you said you didn’t want me to talk to you while you were painting. It was one of the set rules for the summer.”

“That was then.”

Y/N bit her lip, eyes falling to the dark water beneath her. “Oh?”

“It’s… it’s…” he started, searching for the right words. “I don’t mind now.”

Her heart was hammering, the smile on her face ridiculous. God, was she happy Harry couldn’t see her face now. “Don’t mind me talking?”

“No.”

Her smile widened; her chest felt warmer. “Good to hear, because I like to talk.”

“That you do.”

She giggled. “Do you like it when I talk, Harry?”

The question was an obvious piss take. She wasn’t expecting a response, at least not a proper one. The two of them had grown into a nice habit of taking the mick out of one another every once in a while, so she was waiting for Harry to follow her lead. Instead, he left her breathless. All joking about gone.

“Yes.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes stared blankly at the moon. He… he liked it when she talked? Had she heard him right? Was he joking along, but she just hadn’t understood what he was trying to do? She blinked to herself, trying to find some sort of explanation, but there didn’t seem to properly be one unless he was serious.

“Got you speechless?” Harry asked, huffing a little to himself. “Gotta pat myself on the back for that.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, opening her mouth a few times before, “I thought you liked silence, when you get to think and can listen to the quiet.”

There was a slight pause when the only thing she heard was the beating of her own heart in her ears. “I like listening to you more.”

How could one person make another feel like this? Like the whole sun resided inside their chest, threatening to explode at any second to reveal a crater created purely out of star dust and fondness? How was it possible to feel this much at once and not go up into flames? So much was happening inside Y/N’s body she felt a tingling in her fingers. Was this what it felt like to fall in love, she asked herself, not knowing for sure till years later when she was able to give herself a proper and positive answer to her own question. That was what it was. Falling into the endless cavity of emotion and devotion, a pit it was impossible to ever wholly find your way out of.

Harry cleared his throat, making Y/N jump a little. “But shut up now, because I need to get the moon right. Can’t have distractions.”

So she was quiet, the small smile on her face impossible to wipe off. She couldn’t hear Harry behind her, the soft sounds of nature made sure of that, but she felt him. Like her cells knew his was there, desperately, longingly reaching for him. She wondered if he could feel it, too.

Before long, Harry sighed heavily, and said, “Done. Just need it to dry a bit and we can leave.”

Finally, she turned around, looking at him properly for the first time in around two hours. She walked backward, feeling the cold water reaching further and further up her bare thighs.

“Come.”

He watched her for a few seconds, stunned. “Come?”

“Yeah, come.”

“But I’m not hard.”

Y/N burst out laughing, leaning her hands on her knees as she snorted. She heard him laughing as well, and she suddenly wished to mute herself completely so all she could ever hear for the rest of her life was Harry’s laughter. She opened her eyes, smiling broadly at him.

“Just come here, the water’s actually not cold at all.” She said, raising up into a proper position.

He looked at the ocean around her before looking back at her walking further into the deep. “But you can’t see the bottom, it’s too dark.”

“So?” she shrugged. “Do you see your future?”

Harry frowned, not catching on, but nevertheless, he answered earnestly. “No.”

“But you still keep on living, don’t you? Even though you can’t see your future properly? Even though you can’t see the bottom? Where it ends?” she smiled at him, stopping. “Live a little, you don’t have to see everything clearly.”

She raised her arms above her head, gave him a little wink, and then fell back into the sea behind her. She heard Harry shout something before she went under. The crisp evening ocean enveloped her, swaying her lightly from side to side, sounding of eternity. She smiled, opening her eyes, only to see the white moon above her, lighting up the dark night. After a few seconds she brought herself back up to the surface, wiping water away from her face. Harry now stood with water till about his ankles, watching her, so she gave him a grin.

“Now you’re all bloody wet.” He said, frowning as he took her in. The dress clung to her, something she was very aware of the longer Harry stared at her form and not her eyes.

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, innit?”

Harry shook his head, not being able to help his chuckles, and Y/N suddenly felt very proud she was able to make the painter laugh. She giggled as well.

“Right, quit the sexual references.” Harry said.

“You started.”

Harry just smiled, looking down at his feet in the water.

“Come have a swim.”

She saw him shake his head, not moving his eyes from the spot just beneath him. “I don’t like the dark.”

“So, you decided to drive to the beach, in the middle of the night, to paint in the dark?” She wasn’t trying to take the piss, it was a genuine question, because she saw he was very much not joking about right now.

“Doesn’t make sense to you?” he asked, looking over at her.

“I mean,” she shrugged, running her hands through the water. “I’m trying to, but can’t make much sense.”

With that, Harry leaned down, folding the bottom of his dungarees till they were further up his calves, that way he could walk closer to her. Though he didn’t get much further before she saw he mentally hit a wall. She walked a bit closer to him as well, feeling a breeze brush past them that was a little colder now that she was wet.

“When I was 10, I had a nightmare.” Harry started, running his hand along his jaw. “I don’t remember much of it, but I remember thinking there was a monster in my room. When I woke up, I couldn’t move.”

Y/N felt her heart sink a little, hating where this was going. “Sleep paralysis.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded.

“At 10?”

“Yeah.”

“Must’ve been traumatising.”

Harry inhaled sharply, staring off into the distance. “And I couldn’t stop staring at the corner of my room, thought I saw something there. And then I started hearing all these sounds outside my room, thought more monsters were coming, but it was just my sister who heard me crying, so she came to check on me.”

Suddenly feeling very bad and in huge need to hug him, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he nodded a little. “But it’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yes, it is,” she corrected. “Sorry you had to go through that.”

He nodded again, eyes meeting hers. “Scarred me, and now I don’t like the dark.”

She gave him a little smile, silently telling him that she understood, and he didn’t have to go on unless he felt he wanted to. Though he had just admitted he liked her talking, there simply are moments when talking is not necessary.

“Though,” he went on, wetting his lips quickly. “I liked what you said about the dark, how not seeing doesn’t necessarily mean what you’re moving toward is scary or is hiding something that could potentially hurt you.”

She gave him a little smile, watching him take in the moon mirrored in the moving waters. “Your fears are your fears for a reason, it’s hard to get rid of them.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking at her again. “But I’m not scared of the sea. Don’t know why I’m hesitating.”

“Well, ‘cause it’s dark, innit? Don’t be hard on yourself.”

He inhaled, eyes lingering on her face for a few. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I often am.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Y/N laughed, walking closer to him and shore. “Should we leave? Has your painting dried a bit?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Good, because I’m getting sleepy.” She walked up to the beach, wringing the end of her dress to get as much water as possible out of it. A slight gust of wind hit her, immediately sending a wave of shivers up her spine. She gasped a little, body shaking slightly as it went through her body, but she quickly recovered, turning her attention to the other side of her dress. When she looked up, wanting to see how far Harry had gotten in packing all his things together, she met his eyes. Obviously having seen her discomfort with the scant cold, he walked up to his moped and opened the seat again. He came back with a towel, and she quickly remembered how he kept one on him. That’s how she picked Viola up when she first found her. This was a different towel, though.

He unfolded it as he came closer, holding it in one hand as he stopped before her. Leaning closer, he got the other side of the towel from behind her. She felt his breath against her nose, the droplets that were still on her face suddenly turning very hot along with the rest of her. His eyes moved to hers, and he suddenly stopped his movements. No one moved. For a few heavenly seconds they just stood there looking at each other, taking in every second they could be close like this when the intention could be explained, when they had a reason. It took everything in Y/N not to look down at his lips. Those soft lips he had pressed against her hand and palm the night before; those pink lips that had been her entire world for a few long, celestial moments. How she longed to unfold her own against those lips.

Harry took a grip of the other side of the towel without breaking eye contact, getting so close that she swore she could make out each one of the freckles across the bridge of his nose. As he stepped back a little, he wrapped the towel around her, making sure it was placed nicely across her shoulders. Gingerly, he placed his hands on her shoulders. First, she felt his pinky finger, then his ring finger, middle, index, and then his thumb right by her neck. With each tap of his finger, she felt like an earthquake of blissful tingles shocked her entire body. She felt like she was vibrating with the hundreds of butterfly wings that beat inside her tummy.

He ran his hands down her upper arms, then took a step back, snapping them both harshly out of whatever had just gone down between them.

“Dry yourself off a bit.” He mumbled, walking back to his stuff and packing everything.

Y/N just stood there for a few seconds, regaining her composure before drying herself. Once she was done, she folded the towel and gave it back to him and he handed her the rucksack. She watched him put the towel back in its place as she got the rucksack on. Soon they were on their way again, Harry driving fast down the road and Y/N holding onto him. She couldn’t take her eyes off the soft skin of his neck; the feeling of his curls blowing in the wind, right into her face. It was as if now that she knew what he looked like up close, now that she had the time to take him in like this without interruption, she couldn’t help herself.

They arrived in Fosdinovo not long after, Harry stopping his moped outside his house before asking if Y/N was okay to walk home, which she very much was. As she got off the bike, she saw two circles and a bigger splotch on Harry’s back after her tits and tummy. Her cheeks heated up instantly and she hoped he didn’t feel the wet spots himself. She got the helmet off, trying not to let it show that she was freezing, and handed it back to Harry to put it under his seat.

As she handed him his rucksack back, their hands touched. Their eyes met right after, both seemed to stop. Quickly, Harry took the rucksack by the other strap and hand, hoisting it onto his shoulder, all the while not letting go of Y/N’s fingers. They stood there, in the complete darkness of the night, the rest of the small village fast asleep around them. The crickets sang for them; the moon watched them; knowing what the two of them knew in their hearts but were too afraid to voice.

Harry gave her fingers a little squeeze, and it was then Y/N noticed he was holding her left hand, the same hand he had kissed the night before.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She inhaled slowly, afraid that any rash movements would ruin the moment. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He gave her hand another squeeze before letting it go and taking a small step back. She smiled at him, turning around, beginning her walk back to her flat. Looking over her shoulder when she was about to turn up the small street to her own, she caught Harry watching her still, and when their eyes met, neither broke eye contact till Y/N rounded the corner.

Sunday, 4 August 2019

Viola knew the way to the bakery now. She walked ahead of Y/N, looking back at her every once in a while when she wanted to walk a little faster but the lead prevented her. It was a cloudy day; the swirl of white interrupted every here and there with dark clouds that threatened with rain. Y/N didn’t have much on the agenda today anyway, so she wasn’t too bothered. In fact, it was rather nice to get a small break from the Italian summer sun for a single day.

Before walking through the door of the Panetteria, Y/N looked through the windows on either side to make sure Salvatore wasn’t working that day. When she couldn’t see him, she let Viola enter the bakery before her, announcing their arrival with a small meow.

“Y/N!”

She jumped a little, looking to her right to see Meo sitting at one of the tables. She hadn’t seen him till now, which was very weird as he had been seated right by the big window. Guess she was just going bloody blind. He grinned, folding his newspaper before resting it in his lap.

“How are you?” he asked, taking a little look at Viola before exclaiming, “And who is this beauty?”

“That’s Viola, and I’m good, how about you?”

Just then, Rin walked out from the door behind the counter, giving Y/N a friendly smile. “Hi.”

“Hiya.” Y/N smiled right back at her. “Could I get a croissant to go, please?”

“Yes, you can.” Rin gave her a little wink, moving to put a croissant into a paper bag for Y/N. “How have you been since Thursday?”

Meo, who was bending down to pet Viola, stopped and looked up at the two ladies. “What happened Thursday?”

“Salvatore acted like an idiot and made Y/N visibly uncomfortable.” Rin answered, standing by the cashier waiting for Y/N.

“You got her, Meo?” Y/N asked, referring to the cat he was petting again.

“Yeah.” He nodded, picking her up and putting her on top of the newspaper in his lap. Y/N walked over to Rin to pay. “Have you spoken to him since, Y/N?”

She shook her head, handing Rin a few euros. “I’d like for him to apologise, but don’t feel like he’s the type to admit he was in the wrong.”

Rin was quick to back Y/N’s theory, “He won’t.”

Meo sighed. “Rin-“

“-No.” She shot Meo a look. “Don’t stand up for him. He’s a good friend of yours but he’s an idiot most of the time.”

Meo looked down at Viola, running his fingers through her fur. “You’re right.”

“I am.” Rin glanced back at Y/N, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“What’s even weirder is how Harry acted, though.” Meo said, following the statement with a little breathy chuckle. “It seemed to really bother him.”

Rin frowned. “Yeah, when someone sexually harasses someone else, it bothers people.”

Meo groaned. “I didn’t mean it-“

“-Excuse Meo, Y/N, he seems to have left his brain at home today.”

Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. But,” she glanced over at Meo who was leaning down, booping his nose against Viola’s – who seemed very unsure of what to do. “Harry’s been acting strange lately. Wouldn’t have stood up for me before.”

“Oh?” Rin raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think?”

“Well,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “He wasn’t particularly nice to me in the beginning, so I don’t think he would’ve.”

“He’s not a bad person.” Rin said, making Y/N wonder how she knew that. “Just been through… a lot.”

But before Y/N got to ask Rin how she knew this, Meo started talking again. “Speaking of Harry,” he started. “Saw him yesterday.”

“Congrats,” Rin said. “You have eyes and a memory of other people.”

“Fanculo.” Meo rolled his eyes. “No, I saw him in that small alleyway off Via Roma. He was talking to this old man and he seemed very angry.”

Rin crossed her arms. “Angry in what way?”

“Is there more than one way to be angry?” Meo asked back, giving them a quick shrug. “Don’t know, he seemed annoyed, upset, and very angry.”

“Did you recognise who he was talking to?” Y/N surprised herself by asking, but neither Meo nor Rin seemed to bat an eyelash at the question. They were just as curious as she was.

“No, just know he’s Mattia’s father.” Meo explained. “But that’s irrelevant.”

“Mattia’s father is a police officer, Meo. It’s not irrelevant.” Rin brought two fingers up to her temple, clearly thinking hard. “Why would H. Styles be talking to the police?”

“Who is Mattia?” Y/N asked, looking between the two.

Rin waved her hand, dismissing Mattia entirely. “Just a guy about our age, his dad always used to come to our school to give talks on drugs and other crimes.”

“Drugs?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not saying Harry’s involved in some drug deal thing.” Rin clarified. “That’s just what Mattia’s dad did.”

Meo gasped a little. “Imagine if he’s like a drug lord.”

“In Fosdinovo? In the middle of nowhere Tuscany? Unlikely.” Rin leaned her hip against the counter, scrunching up her face as she started thinking. “None of that makes sense. I mean, if he was involved in something with the police, surely the Tuscan and Italian newspapers would know of it by now, right?”

“Unless it was a secret investigation.” Meo said, making both Rin and Y/N whip their heads in his direction. “Seems most likely, doesn’t it?”

Y/N was racking her brain for what that could mean, why Harry would need the police to look into something, and why he was talking to the police at all.

“Unless the police are corrupt, and the drug lord is bribing them to shut up about something.” Meo shrugged. “Or the police are working with him.”

“You’ve been watching too much of that Peaky Blinders and all the other gang shows you like to annoy me with.” Rin sighed, giving Y/N a little smile. “Guess it’s just going to remain a mystery.”

“Guess it is.” Y/N agreed, smiling back at Rin before she walked over to Meo and Viola. With all this new information, Y/N could simply not be around people. She needed to sit alone and think for a bit. Which was weird, because Y/N never wanted to be alone. She wanted to be around people, but this had her in need for a think. “I better be off. We have a busy day ahead of doing absolutely nothing.”

Meo chuckled, handing Viola’s lead back to Y/N. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” She waved at them both. “See you around.”

“See ya!”

And then Y/N and Viola walked out, on their way back to the flat, and the entire way, Y/N could not stop thinking about what her, Rin, and Meo had just been discussing. What was going on? What was Harry hiding? Did it have something to do with Salvatore and their feud? Or was it completely separate from that? And why was he talking to the police? Y/N’s head was spinning so fast she felt dizzy. Good thing she had her croissant to keep her sane for a little while.

Tuesday, 6 August 2019

Y/N and Rin had hung out all day. They had bumped into one another once Rin was done with her shift at the bakery, and the first thing Rin had said was “He’s working.” She then asked Y/N if she wanted to try another café for breakfast, something Y/N said she’d love to. With Viola, they strolled into the city centre where Rin showed Y/N her favourite café.

The two had a big brunch filled with delicious pasta, schiacciata, ribollita, and multiple glasses of iced coffee. They had an amazing time together, sitting there till the sun started to go down again. It was so nice to talk rubbish with someone who was just as eager to be in everyone else’s business as Y/N was. Though it was a bad trait to have – being nosey – it was so fun to meet someone just as curious about other people and their business. Rin told Y/N all the village gossip, and all the big goss that had been throughout the years. Turns out, even a small mountain town like Fosdinovo has had a few scandals through the years. The two made plans to do brunch together again another time before Y/N had to leave the following week.

On her way back to the flat, Y/N stopped by a supermarket, getting some Ritz and a Brie, figuring she didn’t need much for dinner as she’d already had a massive brunch. Viola was relaxing in her arms by the time she got home, exhausted from a day of doing nothing but walking around and eating. But walking up the staircase to her flat, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a figure leaning against the railing opposite to her front door.

She could recognise him anywhere by this point. His brown trousers, pink Converse, the tight white tee shirt, now matched with an open pale pink silk shirt, tucked loosely into his trousers along with his tee shirt. He looked over at her, and as he registered who it was, he straightened, turning his body in her direction. They both blinked for a few seconds before Y/N walked up the last flight of stairs and over to her door.

“You again.” She said, turning the keys and letting them all in. She got Viola out of her lead, putting her down on the floor.

“And the enthusiasm is out of this world.”

“Shocked really,” Y/N continued, putting the tote bag with groceries on the kitchen table before turning around again. “Thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

He just looked at her, mouth shut. He pushed away from the railing, clearing his throat some. “Put the dress on, meet me downstairs.”

Just then, a small whimper could be heard, and then a loud meow. Viola jogged in Harry’s direction, just having noticed him being there. Straight past Y/N who had made her way back over to the door, right to Harry who was now hunched down, petting her. Her purring was deep, clearly enjoying Harry’s attention very much.

“Tell me,” Harry started, smiling at Viola when she jumped up, leaning her two front paws on his knee. “Do you ever give her any attention at all? ‘Cause she seems to be my biggest fan because I give it to her.”

Y/N huffed, trying to hide the smile on her face at seeing Viola and Harry bonding like this. “For your information, we cuddle every night before we go to sleep.”

“In bed?”

She couldn’t help her smile now. “You jealous?”

It was meant as a joke, but judging by the silence that followed, Y/N was afraid he might not have gotten it. Which made the whole situation very weird. Of course he wasn’t bloody jealous of a cat cuddling her in bed. What the fuck kind of question was that anyway? Her neck heated up, feeling a slight wave of embarrassment come on.

In movement so swift Y/N didn’t quite catch it, Harry picked Viola up and held her tight to his chest. His eyes met Y/N’s, mouth hanging open as he searched for the words he’d wanted to say. He nodded behind her at her flat.

“May I?”

She wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do or what he meant, but she still said, “Of course.”

Stepping aside, she watched as Harry walked past her and into her flat, straight for her bed. Gently, he put Viola down in Y/N’s bed, running a hand over her back to settle her in. His other hand was pressed into her duvet, fingers spread out. The veins on the back of his hand were defined, leading up to his wrist, where other veins were visible all the way up to his elbow. Her eyes travelled further, taking in his bicep, the way his hair hung before his eyes when he stood bent like this. His hips, how round his bum looked when he wore those trousers. The way his thighs had looked when he’d been petting Viola out in the hallway. Get a fucking grip, Y/N. She shook her head, looking away from him just as he pushed away from the bed.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” He said, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder, telling her he’d be waiting outside.

Y/N just watched him leave, closing the door behind him, leaving her and Viola confused. Y/N looked back at the cat, raising her eyebrows as Viola’s eyes were still on the door, obviously missing Harry.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, Viola looking up at her companion. “I’m confused, too.”

Viola meowed.

“Okay, not confused, just…” Y/N shrugged. “Dunno. He’s changed.”

Viola just looked at Y/N, obviously not bothering to take part in a conversation she didn’t see the point of. How Y/N and Harry were feeling was as clear to her as the difference between the first and the last chapter of a book.

Y/N changed into her dress, not bothering to put her knee socks on as she knew they were going back to Lerici to finish the painting Harry started last time. She gave Viola a quick kiss to the forehead as she always did, and then she walked downstairs. As the two times they’d ridden the moped together previous, Harry handed Y/N the helmet as soon as she stepped out of the door and into the already dark night. He got on and started the engine as she put the helmet and his rucksack on, and as soon as she was comfortable on the seat behind him, they were off.

They made it to the same beach, and though the moon wasn’t as full as she had been two nights earlier, Y/N guessed it didn’t really matter. What Harry needed was to get the colours right, he already had the outline of everything by now. It was weird, Y/N thought, how she knew Harry’s methods and ways of working by this point. She knew he did outline first and colours second, often visiting a place two or three times after their first visit to get everything right. But he hadn’t needed her present in the beginning when he was colouring…

They didn’t talk. Y/N knew she was going to go stand in the sea and Harry knew where he was putting his easel. They moved with one another, knowing what the other one wanted and doing everything they could to keep the other satisfied. Y/N listened to Harry moving around behind her, mixing colours and adjusting his canvas, huffing and shuffling in the sand. The time before when she joined him on the colour-filling session, they hadn’t talked at all. Gioele came along that time, and kept the air lively with either song or conversation, trying to talk to Harry about something Harry never really seemed interested in. But now they were alone, and silence stretched out between them. Neither were in a hurry to say something. So, when Harry suddenly cleared his throat, Y/N almost jumped a little.

“I thought about what you said the other day.” He admitted.

Y/N blinked a few times, looking to the rocks on her left as she spoke. “What was that?”

“In order to properly make a connection with someone I’ve gotta open up to people.”

She nodded, encouraging him to go on. “Yeah?”

“And uhh…” he trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words to say next. “I don’t… I don’t know how to say this.”

This made her look over her shoulder at him, needing to know that he was alright. He seemed to be, painting with a slight wrinkle between his brows. “Saying anything at all is good, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“I know, but…” He met her eyes, mouth hanging open for a few moments. He looked back at the painting. “My parents always favoured my sister. They didn’t have to say the word, I always knew they liked her better than me. Maybe because she was the firstborn, maybe because she’s always been amazing at everything she’s ever done.” He took a deep breath. “I never hated them for it, I kind of got used to it… being their second choice. My nannies were better parents than them.”

It hurt hearing Harry say that; that he had been his parents’ second choice all his life. Reminded Y/N of how she’d felt growing up as well; Portia being in the spotlight all the time, Y/N always in second place. It got to the point where she just had to get used to it. Not that she wanted to be the second one in line, but it just simply was that way and there was nothing she could do about it. Her father left and since then, her mother had leaned on Portia for support and Y/N to carry them both. Harry knew how that felt.

“When I started getting bigger as a painter, when I could do this and only this, I decided that living in Manchester wasn’t it.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, studying the painting. “It reminded me of a life I didn’t feel good enough. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel like I was enough. ‘Cause I am. Took me some time to realise that I was. I knew I could only become the best version of myself if I was away from Manchester for a little while.”

A gust of wind blew past Y/N, she had to hold the dress in place, still watching Harry. He was quiet for a few seconds as he looked at her, but he quickly looked away and started painting again.

“Moved here… and…” he stood still, the topic at hand evoked so many emotions in him that it seemed he had a hard time using his words right. “And I… I wasn’t enough here either. But…” he cleared his throat. “I need to finish this collection here and everything. Can’t move before I have.”

Y/N thought back to the time Harry said he didn’t want to move, that he liked living here. He clearly did not. And her entire chest hurt at the revelation.

“The collection’s what’s keeping me here,” he admitted. “Not free will.”

Y/N looked at the reflection of the moon in the water, aching for the hurt Harry felt. She could still hear it in his voice.

“So, not only am I everyone’s second choice, but I have to stay here for another month without-“ he abruptly stopped himself, eyes falling to the sand underneath his bare feet. For a few seconds, no one moved, and when Harry’s eyes met hers, nothing else mattered. Y/N felt dizzy, her chest tingling; almost like she was drunk. “Without a friend.”

She felt herself panic, the realisation that she was leaving the following week hit her like a ton of bricks. For some reason, she had to talk; had to keep the conversation going. Harry didn’t look away from her as Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, not knowing that she was getting dizzy trying to find something to say.

“You’ll always have the moon.” Brill, you’ve done it now, she thought to herself.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“The moon’s always gonna be there. You can talk to her all you need.”

He huffed, blinking twice before saying, “That right?”

Y/N nodded, not having thought she’d get into this today, but seemingly, she had to now. “My mum’s obsessed with space. The reason why she named me and my sister after planets and all that, you know this.” She waved her hands around, dismissing going into detail about that exact subject. “Anyway, she always used to tell us that if we were ever in need to talk to someone and no one we knew could help, the moon would always listen. There were often times when I was little when I knew my mum couldn’t help, so I’d sit by my open window in the middle of cold winter and pour my heart out to the moon.”

The hint of a joke that had been in Harry’s eyes when Y/N started her talk of the moon, was gone. He seemed to know where this was going.

“My mum…” Y/N’s eyes fell to a spot in the sand beside Harry’s feet. “She was never able to help. And if she was, I could tell her heart wasn’t really in it.”

Harry’s arm fell to his side.

“It’s not that mum doesn’t love me, because she really does, I know she does, but…” she shrugged. “I’ve just always been able to tell that she liked my little sister more. Thought she had more potential, and all that.”

Y/N looked up at Harry again, seeing the head of his brow upturned.

“People have no control over their emotions, so I don’t blame mum, but I wish she’d paid more attention to me.” Y/N admitted, turning back to the moon. “That way the moon wouldn’t know all my secrets.”

She could feel Harry’s eyes on her back as she walked further out, laying her palms flat against the surface of the sea, the hem of her skirt floating in the ocean.

“But I can’t have been the only one spilling all my troubles to her, right?” Y/N tried to reason, not wanting Harry to think she was insane. “Think about how many secrets she’s gotta hold, and not just ones told to her like mine, but others as well. All those untold ones people hold close until night when they spill their hearts to the moon, all the truths, lost opportunities, the endless sea of chances. She’s gotta know everything, more than the sun could ever hope to. Forbidden acts all happen at night, don’t they?”

Y/N turned around, meeting Harry’s eyes. His lips were parted, blinking a few times as he stumbled out of his reverie when he saw her turning around.

“I’m truly sorry about your family. You’re no one’s second choice.”

Harry shook his had some, placing a hand on his tummy, hooking his thumb at the top of his trousers. “You haven’t met my family, though.”

“They don’t deserve you if they’ve made you feel that way.” Y/N said. “You’ve got other people who you’re never going to be second choice to.”

Harry just looked at her, speechless.

“And aren’t Jamie going to stay here till the end of summer? Right before you’re leaving for your little tour? Your friend’s gonna stay here the whole time with you.”

Harry blinked. “My… my friend?”

Y/N nodded, cocking her head ever so slightly to the side before looking ahead at the moon again. “Yeah, you said you’d stay here for another month without a friend.”

Harry looked away, eyes falling to the palette in his hand before he tipped his brush in it. A small, “Yeah, you’re right,” left his lips.

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe.”

“’Cause the moon is always there.”

Y/N smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “She’ll always listen.”

There was a small pause. “What about you?”

Y/N frowned. “What about me?”

The waves crashed softly against shore, there didn’t seem to be another sound in the entire world but that just then.

“Harry?”

He was quiet. And though Y/N didn’t want to interrupt him in case a sudden creative urge had hit him, he had still asked her a question she hadn’t understood, and she therefore wanted an answer.

“You alright?”

But he still didn’t say anything. Just as she was about to look over her shoulder at him to make sure he was alright; she heard the splashing of water and then felt a lot of it on her face. She yelped, jumping a bit, unsure what had just happened till she saw it. Harry rose from the dark ocean, shaking his head to get most of the water out of his curls. Harry had come out into the sea with her. Fully clothed. Y/N couldn’t help her laughter, too caught off guard to do anything else.

“What the fuck?”

“’What the fuck’?” Harry said, turning around to face her, whipping some of his curls out of his face. “You told me to come out into the water a few days ago, and now you’re shocked?”

Y/N smiled at him, raising her eyebrows a tad, realising she was holding both hands to her chest and feeling her heart hammering fast against her ribcage. “You also said you didn’t like the dark, and that the water was too dark for you to take a swim in.”

“But you said to live a little and that not seeing the bottom ‘cause it’s too dark wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

He… he remembered what she’d told him? He’d taken her words to heart? Every single part of Y/N was tingling to the point of tickling her a bit. “And now you’re in the water.”

Harry huffed, water to just below his shoulders. Y/N walked a bit closer to him, finding the ocean a little too cold to be comfortable. “Don’t get used to me trying out the things you suggest I do.”

She bit her lips together. “Of course.”

He just stared at her, noticing her piss take but not bothering to point it out or tell her to fuck off for it. Instead, he took a step further back, letting more of the sea envelope him. “Well,” he said, nodding toward Y/N. “If I’m gonna be swimming, you’re going to as well.”

“Jesus Christ.” She mumbled, balling her hands together into fists and as fast as she could, walked further out into the sea. The cold water hurt against her warm skin, but she did her best not to let it show. When the water reached her shoulders, standing a metre or two away from Harry still, she looked at him. “Happy?”

“Get your hair wet.”

She clicked her tongue, raising her eyebrows. “Why are you so bossy?”

“Why do you suddenly care if your hair is wet or not? You didn’t last time.” He pointed out, raising his eyebrows back at her. “Besides, my hair is wet so yours needs to be too.”

Y/N only rolled her eyes but did as he wished. Getting her entire head under water, she made sure all of her hair was wet, opening her eyes to see if she could see Harry underwater. But when she opened them, she saw him taking a few steps closer till he was just in front of her. Immediately, her heart started racing. She stood, getting the water out of her eyes before looking at him. He was right there, right in front of her. The white light of the moon washed over half of his face, and though she couldn’t make out all his features, he looked so incredibly beautiful in that moment. She was afraid to look away; afraid what would happen if she did.

“What about you?” he asked again, voice low like a mumble.

Y/N hoped he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was hammering, how every nerve in her entire body was on high alert, how every cell was screaming for him to get closer. “What about me?”

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe. The moon is always there.” He said, eyes searching her face. “What about you?”

She took a little breath. “I…” she stopped, able to feel the tip of his shoes against her bare feet as he took a small step forward. She could smell him. Neroli and rose mixed with incense and musk. “Will I always be there?”

He just looked at her, clearly thinking that his look was answer enough. And it was. Because in the small way he cocked his head, how his eyes fell so quickly to her lips and back up to her eyes again, the way she saw him take a hug inhale. She saw his answer in all of it.

“I’m… I’m leaving.”

“But if you could?” he urged, sounding desperate.

“But I can’t.”

“But if you could…”

Though the water moved around them, the world seemed to be completely still as they stood there. It would always be night, it would always be them, it would always be this. The uncertainty laced with a kind of certainty neither had the vocabulary to word correctly. She couldn’t take a step closer to Harry as they were already standing so close, but she needed to take a step closer to be closer. She needed to be close to him. Needed to melt into him.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, heart hammering so fast and so hard that it was weird her voice wasn’t shaking with it. He opened his mouth slowly; inhaling, exhaling.

“The planet Venus…” he mumbled, letting the three words hang in the air around them. She barely noticed how his eyes fell to her lips for a split second before they looked up into hers again. Fires ran up her spine. “Is the second brightest natural object in the sky, right after the sun. Referred to as ‘the morning star’ or ‘the evening star’. Visible for a little while, only hours before or after sunrise or sunset. You have to really be looking for her to find her.”

“What are you-“

“-In 2019, she was only visible in the mornings until July, then she disappeared behind the sun. She’s going to reappear in September, then she’s going to be visible in the mornings again.” He paused, a shaky breath leaving his slightly parted lips. “She’s the brightest star in the solar system.”

Y/N didn’t know how she was still standing, neither did she know what any of that meant, why he chose to tell her this. He must’ve known that her mother had told her everything about the planet she was named after, but here he was… And she didn’t mind him saying this at all. But it did raise the question-

“How do you know all this?” she asked, blinking a few times to get a droplet from the sea off her eyelashes. “Why do you know all this?”

He bit his bottom lip, eyes shifting between her two, not knowing where to focus. “Because…” his voice was barely audible, but all of Y/N’s senses were tuned in on him. She could’ve heard him if his voice was merely a whisper and the world was collapsing around them. He stilled, fixating on her and nothing else. “I’d stay up only to get a small glimpse of you.”

And just like that, the entirety of the universe stopped turning; like a painting, a superlative moment in time, the perfect depiction of the perfect moment in what had been till now a mediocre lifetime. Everything had conspired and waited for this exact moment, lit up by the moon that knew all of their secrets and most hidden desires. Just then, the colours around got a little brighter, hearing a little better, and it was easier to breathe. Everything had led to this.

She saw Harry daring a look at her lips again, and she couldn’t help but stare at his as well. So pink, so pretty. She saw his lips part, felt his breath against her wet skin, and when she looked up, she realised he’d been waiting for her to make eye contact. He was waiting for a response. But what was she supposed to say? That she found herself dreaming of him most nights and it was hard to act normal around him the next day? That the dreams were vivid and she felt him touch her, kiss her hand, her arm, her jaw, her cheek? That she’d had a small crush on him for weeks now, even when he’d treated her like shit, because somewhere deep down, she’d known he was different? How did she tell him she’d been right, and she didn’t know how? That she admired him for a ton of reasons, but mostly for his willingness to change when he was wrong? How did she tell him that she thought he’d never be interested in her, but now that he admitted to it, her feelings had blossomed to life like a field of flowers after a shower of rain in summer?

Something took over and she reached forward, taking a light grip of his neck, bringing him toward her. They kissed. It was soft, positioning a little off, but the impact was like a meteor striking earth. Harry didn’t hesitate, he placed a gentle hand to her cheek and another one on her shoulder, slowly sliding it up to rest at her neck. Her entire body seemed to change in a way as her skin made contact with his again. Their cells intermingled; bodies connected in a way they’d never felt before. Something inside urged them to feel more, do more, melt into one another. Gently, Harry guided her lips wider open, carefully asking permission for his tongue to enter her mouth. She opened up to him, exhaling against his cheek as she felt his tongue along hers.

She did a small jump, hooking her legs around his waist so they didn’t need to bend awkwardly to be with one another. He didn’t seem taken off guard at all, rather welcoming her embrace by letting one his hands rest at her thigh and the other at her neck. It seemed to never end, like they could stand there kissing in the water, in the light of the white moon, till everything ceased to exist anymore. The kissing didn’t grow hungry or lustful, they just wanted to be close, wanted to feel the other there and know they were together. They wanted to be connected, wanted to melt together and never leave.

Out of breath, Y/N pulled away slightly, needing to breathe properly for a few moments. Opening her eyes, she saw Harry staring right back at her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over how beautiful he was, how good he tasted, how good he smelled, felt, was. He leaned forward, kissing her temple before leaning his forehead against hers. She breathed him in before seeking his lips again. And it was like Harry told her; you fall in love, and it’s the beginning and the end of everything.

Thursday, 8 August 2019

Y/N looked at herself in the body-length mirror in her flat, taking in her outfit for La Serenata. A midi wrap dress with volume sleeves, flowers in white, mustard, red, green, and black covering all of it. She put on a pair of small hoop earrings, a light layer of make-up, and thinking herself ready after. Viola was on her bed, watching all of it, giving her small meows or pointed stares of approval or disapproval if Y/N ever asked her opinion on something.

She made sure Viola had enough to eat, that a window was open, and that everything else was ready for the little child to be home alone. Though Viola rarely did anything stupid, Y/N was aware that one time would have to be the first, and she didn’t want anything to happen in the last week she was spending with the wee cat. Giving Viola a kiss to the forehead as she always did, Y/N got her small purse with everything she needed, and headed out.

It was getting dark, the sun was about to set, the orange and dotted purple sky above about to paint itself a vibrant pink before covering itself in the blanket of night. Y/N could make out a few others on their way to the La Serenata, dressed nicely for the occasion and talking loudly amongst themselves. She smiled a little, finding it adorable how the entire village was gathering in order to be part of this. She walked up the hill, along the streets she remembered from two nights before when Harry had showed her where to walk. Before driving her home, he’d driven her all the way to Via Papiriana, which wasn’t too far away from her flat. Not that anything within the borders of Fosdinovo was far from one another. She walked the exact way, holding onto the strap of her purse and urging her the heels of her shoes not to get stuck in between any cobblestones. She didn’t want to be late.

She saw Via Papiriana as she rounded a corner, and immediately recognised the figure standing there leaning against the brick out. A smile graced her lips instantly. He was wearing a white jacquard shirt with ruffled front, tucked into a pair of charcoal grey heritage check trousers, and a jacket to match. He looked as amazing as he always did, but the ruffles on his shirt made him look almost royal. Like there was no doubt he was better than everyone else.

He looked up as she came closer, as if he sensed her there, and his eyes quickly scanned her figure. Pushing off the wall, he turned his body in her direction, giving her the tiniest of smiles. One it was evident he couldn’t help.

“Hi.” She said, grinning at him.

“Hi.” He answered, smile widening a tad.

After the session two days prior, they hadn’t met one another. Harry had been busy the day before, and Y/N had done absolutely nothing. She knew she needed to do stuff now that she only had one week left in Italy, but she couldn’t bring herself to. All she thought about was Harry; she wanted to be with him every single second of every single day. Harry drove her home after their session in Lerici, apologised for not being able to see her the following day, and promised to meet her at Via Papiriana for the Serenata. After that kiss in the ocean, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else. He was all her mind was able to focus on it seemed. And though she didn’t mind, she knew she shouldn’t. They lived two completely different lives and outside this chance situation they found themselves in this summer, they could never be together.

She couldn’t think about that now, though. Instead she nodded her head at Via Papiriana and Harry nodded back, showing her the way. There was a crowd of people further down the road, loud voices and laughter filling the tiny street. People who lived on the street were watching through their opened windows, a group stood on a balcony not far off, others stood in their open doorways, handing out glasses of what Y/N could only assume to be alcohol of some kind. They made a little party out of the La Serenata, and Y/N loved it. The Italian culture she had been lucky enough to experience this summer had blown her away and she was beyond sad she had to leave it all behind soon. She had no idea when she would next visit this breath-taking country in southern Europe that she had grown so immensely fond of.

As Y/N and Harry got close, people started hushing one another, all attention pointed at the middle of the crowd. Someone started playing a few chords on a guitar, and it sounded so beautiful already that Y/N felt herself press a hand to her beating heart.

“Al di la; del bene piu prezioso, ci sei tu.” Someone sang, voice dark and smooth.

And just as the song started, a huge mess of curls poked its head out of the window the crowd stood before. Y/N instantly recognised the woman as Carina, Rin, Meo, and Salvatore’s friend who had left the pub the week before. She looked so beautiful smiling down at her fiancé, admiring her future husband. Y/N was suddenly so happy for Carina, not having known she was the one getting married. The thought of someone so kind marrying the love of her life, made Y/N look forward to the following day when she would be attending her first and only Italian wedding.

“Al di la; ci sei tu per me, per me, soltanto per me.”

Y/N could swear she recognised that voice, though. Walking closer to the crowd, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse of the man serenading Carina. She felt Harry following her, seeming a little hesitant as if he already knew what was happening before them. And as Y/N’s eyes fell on the serenader, she stopped completely. It couldn’t be… But it was…

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She whispered to herself, feeling Harry glance down at her, having seen what she’d just seen.

With his dark hair drawn back, dressed in a dark blue suit and looking up at Carina with those charming brown eyes of his, Salvatore stood holding the guitar and singing in the middle of the crowd. He was smiling, completely oblivious to Y/N and Harry attending the Serenata. Even if he had known they would be there, he’d probably be smirking either way, probably loving the dramatics of it all. He was quite theatrical.

Despite everything, Y/N felt tears press on. She hadn’t liked Salvatore much after what happened, but regardless, he had made her feel special. He had taken her on walks along Fosdinovo, made her look forward to her trip to the bakery every morning so she’d see him, made her summer in some way. And all this time, he was engaged. All the flirting, all the touching, all the promises, had been while he was waiting to get married. All those times when he hadn’t been at work, he must’ve been busy with Carina preparing their wedding. Had he used her? Why had he tried to make her fall in love with him? Why had it worked to an extent? Her entire body ached. She was so dumb. So fucking dumb for falling for his stupid, charming act.

She heard Harry breathing heavily through his nose, saw him glaring at both Salvatore and Carina. There was so much hatred in that look that it made Y/N take a small step back. Something had gone down before she arrived, but in that moment, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care too much about that. Because the guy she’d had a crush on at the beginning of the summer had flirted and asked her out while he was engaged; while he was in a relationship with another.

The song was done and the crowd cheered. Y/N didn’t care to see Carina lowering the basket or to see what happened after that, didn’t care to be part of the festivities; she didn’t care about any of that. All she wanted, all she needed, was to get away from that fucking street and the bloody twat singing on it.

Rounding the corner onto the main road, she heard a set of footsteps behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know they were Harry’s. She had to put the entire La Serenata behind her, had to forget about Salvatore, had to forget about bigger parts of her summer spent here. It all hit a little too close to home, made her think of a time before that she tried to suppress. Certain memories were better left forgotten, or so washed away that they didn’t make you feel anything anymore. But memories were there for a reason, and some made you feel so much that it numbed you; it stole your senses and occupied all of you till it tore you apart anew. No one knew how badly it hurt. No one but you.

Harry didn’t try to stop her or talk to her. He understood that she didn’t need that. He understood that what she needed right now was to know that someone was there, that if she desired, he was there for her. Though she wasn’t a big fan of silence, she appreciated how quiet Harry was just then. Truly admired his ability to save his words for occasions when he needed to use them, and not just using them to fill a silence that did fine on its own.

They reached Y/N’s building, where both stopped outside her door. Slowly, she opened her purse and got her keys out, staring off into nothing. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to feel; and what she was feeling, she felt stupid for.

“Do you wanna be alone?”

His voice felt like a warm embrace; like someone understood her for the first time in what must’ve been her entire existence. She looked at him, seeing genuine concern in his eyes. Though she had mates back home that would be worried for her, a sister that would as well, no one had ever looked at her like this before. She felt seen; cared for.

A single tear ran down her cheek as she gave him a tiny smile, shaking her head. “No.”

The hurt in Harry’s eyes worsened. She could tell he wanted to take a step toward her and comfort her, but stopped himself, not knowing what would be too much.

“I never want to be,” she said, not able to hold back. “I just am.”

“You’re not.”

She bit her bottom lip as she felt it start to wobble, feeling so many warm and lovely emotions run through her entire body. It was such a contrast to what she’d just felt after the Serenata that it made her hurt in the best way possible. Noticing this, Harry took her hand in his, carefully taking the key and unlocking the door. He held it open for her, watching her walk inside before he gave her the keys back. She walked first up and through the door to her flat, leaving the door open for Harry to follow.

Viola was sleeping on a kitchen chair, one of the windows were open, the sheer curtains swaying with the wind blowing. Y/N took her shoes off, putting her purse on the kitchen table before she went to open the other window on the other side of the bed. In the darkness of the night, Y/N leaned both her hands on the window frame, looking out over the countryside. She would leave this soon. And though that thought made her happy after what had just happened, it almost made her sad because she would be leaving the person who had followed her all the way home to make sure she was alright.

“When I was around 19, I met Noah.” Y/N started, not taking her eyes off the landscape before her. “He was the first person I ever fell in love with. Made me feel things no one had ever done before, and it was just… it was all I had ever wanted. I didn’t think anyone would ever fancy me like that, in a romantic or sexual way.”

She heard Harry moving behind her, taking his suit jacket off.

“I could tell he fancied me, but… he was embarrassed to.” She said, trying not to let her voice break. “He didn’t want to introduce me to his family or to his friends, didn’t want to be seen with me in public.”

Harry took his shoes off, not taking his eyes off her when she paused for a few seconds. Silent tears rolled down her face.

“No one ever says anything about the emotional struggles of being fat,” she said. “They only highlight the physical part of it, but never the emotional one. How no one’s ever going to want you because of your body. You’re aware your personality’s fine, but your body’s gross so you hide behind your humour, big clothes, and try to fake your confidence in order for people to go ‘she’s so confident, so cool, it’s so inspiring to see someone like her be so confident’.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “And the need to hide your body because everyone who sees you have already got this designed and premeditated idea of what your life is like. Eating tons of unhealthy foods, being lazy, or having health problems. So whenever anyone even looks at you, you know what they’re thinking already. You’re this walking, talking joke and everyone who isn’t in on it is having a laugh, but you’re not. You have to get used to the fact that people are gonna want to give you advice on your health, and it won’t fucking work ‘cause you’ve heard them hundreds of times before, and it’s all just an endless spiral of ‘will I ever be pretty if I’m fat?’ and ‘what’s the fucking point if I’m just going to be fat and judged for the rest of my life?’.”

She took a shaky breath, feeling Harry behind her.

“But when you just have to get used to the fact that you’re never going to be as skinny or as pretty as you want to be. You’re always going to want more. So, for your own mental and physical and spiritual health, you have to tell yourself you’re good enough. Because you are. You need to be. What good is life going to be if you’re never good enough? You’re never going to be happy. You need to be happy ‘cause the only way you can be is if you yourself change it for yourself only. You’re going to be stuck with yourself your whole life. You’re your own soulmate before you’re anyone else’s.”

Y/N took a deep breath before she looked over her shoulder at Harry. He stood beside the end of her bed, looking at her like everything she was saying was the most important piece of information he’d ever hear.

“Salvatore did the same, didn’t he? Wanted to see how hard he could make the fat person fall in love with him?”

Harry shook his head, walking over to her. “No.”

She frowned.

He took her hand, looking down on it. “That wasn’t it.”

“What was it then?”

Harry met her eyes. “Not tonight.”

“Then when?

“Tomorrow morning.”

Y/N frowned.

“Tonight I want to show you that no matter what you felt for Noah, no matter what you felt for Salvatore, it doesn’t matter.” Harry rested a hand at her cheek and she instantly leaned into him. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I thought so the moment I first saw you standing beneath my balcony in early July, and you further proved that as summer went on.”

Y/N couldn’t help the tears forming in her eyes.

“The fact that people has ever made you feel like you’re not makes me angrier than I think you’ll ever know.”

She huffed.

“What?”

“You’re always angry.”

Harry smiled. “Because you piss me off.”

She smiled back, a tear falling from her eye and onto his hand. Harry ran his thumb over her bottom lip, looking at it as he did.

“You’re the brightest star in the solar system, Y/N.” Harry said, voice sounding like a whisper. “That’s not just me saying that, it’s actual facts. It’s on the Internet and everything.”

She laughed, and Harry smiled down at her.

“No one could outshine you.”

She looked at him for a few seconds before she leaned forward and kissed him again. This time around, it wasn’t as soft; it was urgent. She wanted to taste him, wanted to show him how much she appreciated him. Their tongues tangled, hungry for one another in a way they had never been hungry for anyone ever before. His grip on her tightened and he pressed her to him, wanting to feel every curve of her body. To feel the soft skin and the soft spots no one else got to see.

He walked her to her bed, letting her lay down comfortably before he followed her. Making his way up, he ran each hand up her legs, dragging her dress with him till it was at her waist. He nestled between her thighs, urging her to spread her legs a little wider for him as he lowered himself. She watched him, not able to believe that he was really here, in her bed, with a promise to make her understand that whatever she’d ever felt for someone else than him didn’t matter. When he kissed her again, she tasted the entire universe on his tongue and felt it between her thighs. He ran both hands over her cheeks, thumb caressing her tenderly, promising to never mistreat her.

The kisses deepened and Y/N hooked her legs with his, not wanting to ever let him go. It felt too good being like this with him; felt so incredibly right. Her hands roamed his body, wanting to get a good feel of all of him. She wanted to remember every single little piece of him, wanted to feel and smell him on her hands. The excitement of feeling Harry against her centre, of tasting him like this, feeling his hands on her body, it all got to her. A heat started gathering between her legs, aching and begging to be touched by him. She started moving in desperation, feeling Harry breathe harshly against her cheek as she did. He clearly felt her movements just as well as she felt his.

His right hand slid down, over her tits, tummy, and down to that spot between her legs that was waiting for him. He put his middle finger just above her hole, and so excruciatingly slowly as he possibly could, ran it up along her knickers. She gripped his hair a little harder, kissing him a little fiercer, the need for him too great to handle gracefully. With two fingers this time and a little more pressure, he dragged them above her, halting a little when he got a small moan out of her. He pulled away ever so slightly, looking down on her.

“Foreplay,” Harry said, lips moving against hers as they both panted. “How do you feel about it?”

“With my zero patience?” she raised her eyebrows a little, butterflies in her tummy fluttering their wings wildly as Harry smiled down at her. “Overrated.”

“Good.” He said, hooking his fingers through the band of her underwear. “I’m not a fan either.”

She bit her lip, looking at him as he adjusted himself between her legs.

“’Cause I’ve thought about eating you out for quite a while now. So I say fuck foreplay,” he pushed off, sitting up on his knees. “And if you’ll allow me,” he hooked his other hand through the other side of her knickers. “I’d like to make you feel really fucking good.”

“Ambitious.”

He smiled a little, tugging at her underwear. She lifted her hips, letting him take it off her, something he did gracefully. She lifted the skirt of her dress, letting him get better access. Harry looked at her centre, then up at her again, and something in the way he glanced at her made ever single cell in her body sing. She could make out the outline of his erection against his trousers, but he didn’t seem to care much about himself. All he wanted and cared about was for her to feel good. He got the ruffles of his shirt out of the way and positioned himself before her. They didn’t look away from each other as Harry kissed the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of wet spots all the way down to her centre. He kissed her folds, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Watch me.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around her thighs. “Don’t look away.”

She opened her eyes just in time to see him run his tongue over her. His tongue traced a deliciously wet line between her already wet folds. Y/N bit her lip, loving the feeling of Harry’s hot tongue on her like this. Just there to make her feel – as he’d put it himself – really fucking good. The immediate pleasure of Harry eating her out took over her entire being right away. She didn’t know if her toes were freezing cold or if her back was itching. All that mattered, all she could focus on, was Harry and his delicious tongue exactly where they needed to be. She took tight grips of the duvet beneath her, needing something to hold onto, telling herself not to shut her eyes, no matter how good he made her feel. With elegant movements, Harry let his tongue glide up and down, swirling blissfully around her clit while laying some extra pressure there, seeing what got a reaction out of her and what didn’t. His right arm came to lay on her stomach, holding her still in case she started moving with her oncoming climax. A shaky breath left her lips, and then a soft moan, the overwhelming feeling of Harry’s tongue on her cunt took over everything she knew bit by bit.

The entire night before this was gone. Nothing but this mattered. Harry was here, admitting to having wanted to eat her out for a while, which made her feel so much all at once. How long had he? And he said he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, ever since the day he first saw her. So he’d always thought so? He’d always found her beautiful? The mere thought of Harry, the most stunning man she’d ever met, finding her beautiful, sent a whole lot of tingles through her entire body. All of this was too good to be true.

Harry buried his tongue in Y/N’s cunt in his eagerness to please her, running his tongue flat and hard against her, teasing her with an extra flick as he reached her bud. A louder moan escaped her, and her nail scraped against the material of the duvet. Mimicking the same movement to get the same reaction out of her, he watched her eagerly, not breaking eye contact once. It was hard to see straight, think straight, or act at all with grace when Harry made her feel like this. The heat between her thighs was building and she knew she’d come soon.

“Harry.” She moaned, blinking a few times as the pleasure rose.

Tilting his head to the left, Harry started focusing mainly on her clit. With quick deliberate movements, Harry’s tongue flicked dangerously fast over her hyper-sensitive spot. One of her hands immediately came to rest in his hair. She needed to hold onto him, needed to feel him bobbing his head along with his movements. Harry moaned into her as she did, causing her to gasp with the vibrations. The burn that was building up in her core was starting to get so intense she felt like she was about to burn up entirely.

Harry shifted, moving his hand to rest between her folds with his tongue. He pushed two fingers into her, moving them along with tongue. She gasped, the bubble of pleasure that had built up so intense she knew it would burst soon. Harry started sucking on her bud, pounding his fingers in and out of her, looking at her still, silently telling her not to look away from him. The filthy sounds of Harry’s sucking and the wet sounds of her cunt were too much. He moaned into her, and it sent her over the edge. A string of whimpers and moans that sounded like his name and ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘don’t stop’. Her thighs twitched and the hold on Harry’s hair tightened as the bubble of pleasure burst, lashing through her like a whip of intense bliss, showering her in the most heavenly of sensations a human can ever think of experiencing. Her back arched, and Harry did everything he could to keep her still, moving her through her orgasm. Her legs were shaking and she was moaning his name and Harry was moaning against her cunt, sending waves of pleasure throughout her entire body that made her jump a little at the notion.

Breathing heavily, she fell back against her pillows. Harry moved up to her, booping his nose against hers. She smiled.

“Don’t leave.” She whispered, and he didn’t.

NEXT UPDATE: 19 January 2020, 9PM GMT

a thanks to my lovely betas!

💙 @aileenacoustic 💙 @emotionally-imbruised 💙 @fromyourstrulyh 💙 @toolazymyguy 💙 @tasteslikestrawberriesharry 💙

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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sweetlilpaulie · 4 years ago

Text

Never Leave Me.

Request for time travel reader, telling the boys about the future.

Reader X John (it was never specified, but I wanted to do John, cause, well... it’s John)

Caution: Language

Enjoy, my cuties.

P.S. Not to get confused, she’s been with the boys for a few months now, so she knows them pretty well.

~~~

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, we like to dream about what life would be like had we done something different, or said something that we held inside. Maybe, even daydream of the possibilities that we know will never happen. I admit to have fantasized on many occasions, to have been born in a different state, with a bigger house and adoring people on my sides, maybe even in a different time.

Funny, I guess I never thought that I’d end up here. Those very daydreams coming to life. To be honest, I still have no idea how I got here, and if the boys ever found out well... I don’t know what I’d do...

“(y/n)!”

Startled, I turned around, quickly shutting my notebook and placing it under a pillow.

“H-hey.”

Paul smirked.

“What cha been up to in this room for so long ay? Coulda had a whole orgy by now.”

Blushing furiously, I frowned at him.

“I was...writing, you silly goose. What cha need?”

Well, John’s been waitin for ya, he won’t say why, says it’s a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Well, alright then.”

Paul and I walked down the stairs into the studio apartment’s tiny parlour.

John was lounging lazily on the loveseat, his head drifting dangerously downward.

“Oh, Johnny!” chirped Paul loudly.

John’s head snapped up.

“Took ya long enough!”

He grinned, standing up.

My breath hitched.

Every time, even now, his face always made me stare in wonder. And each time, I have to remember.

He’s alive.

And he’s mine.

“Like what you see?” he smirked at my awestruck face.

Not wanting to stroke his ego further, I crossed my arms and cheekily replied “No, but you do.”

It was then, Paul cleared his throat.

“Save that for the bedroom, ay? I’m still here, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are ye still doin’ here? Sod off Macca.”

Raising his hands defensively, he left the premises.

Turning back to me, he smiled once again.

“Come ‘ed. ‘ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Grabbing my hand he pulled me out the backdoor and into the yard.

I gasped in surprise.

White rose bushes were planted on every side, a tall elegant fountain sitting in the middle.

“You said you wanted a garden...so ‘ere ya are.”

There were cobblestones joined together to create a pathway towards the fountain. By the fountain, was a small table and two chairs, a bowl of strawberries, and a tea set were lying on top of the table.

“All...for me?”

“Yes love, all for ya.” he nuzzled my cheek.

This all keeps getting better and better.

“Well, let’s not keep the grub waitin, shall we?”

He guided me towards the table. Sitting down, he poured some tea in the cup along with a bit of cream and a spoonful of sugar. Stirring it all together, he passed me the cup and saucer. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes in delight.

“Earl Grey, you remembered.”

“How could I forget?”

Opening my eyes, John had his on mine. My heart started beating faster once again.

“(y/n), the truth is...” he looked down, biting his lip slightly.

“...I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I could open my mouth, he quickly added “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but, I dunno, I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for...oh dear God, that sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’m really not that kind of guy, I don’t want you to think I’m that sort of guy, look...”

“John.” I raised my eyebrows, and he went quiet.

“I should probably tell you something...”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then worry “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little forward, but...please, don’t think I’m gonna push ya in any way, if you don’t love me back I’d understand...”

“JOHN!”

He shut up once again.

“Good God, Lennon! Calm down. The truth is I love you too.” his eyes widened and a grin spread on his face “Hold up mister, I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else is there you need to say?”

“Uhm...okay, y’know how I told you my parents were in Canada, and that they worked in a small town that nobody knows?”

“Yes?” his eyebrow raised further yet.

“That’s...not...entirely true.” I bit my lip. His face only urged me to continue. “Uhm, they actually, aren’t here.”

Too vague.

Before he could share his inner demons, I quickly added. “They’re not dead. They just uhm...well, they aren’t here...yet.”

“ m’afraid I don’t know what you mean love.”

“Look, I’m gonna sound crazy, It’s absolutely wild, and you may think I’ve lost it, trust me, It’s hard for me too. Do you understand?”

He nodded mutely, still giving me a puzzled look.

“I’m not from here.”

He rolled his eyes at this “I know that much ya yank.”

“No, well yes...but, not from this...time.”

I took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t born in 1944. I was actually born in 2001.”

It was then he started laughing.

“Good one, (y/n). Still don’t really see the punchline though.”

I slapped my forehead.

“I thought you might think this was a joke. But, I’m being serious.”

He light smile faded, and turned to a frown.

“Whaddya mean you’re from 2001? Hasn’t even ‘appned yet!”

“I know...I’m from the future.”

He stared at me blankly for a long time. Then crossing his arms and giving me a skeptical look he finally spoke.

“Prove it then.”

After many months of hiding the technology, I finally pulled out my phone. I tapped on the screen several times to reveal my home screen.

“Wha- the bloody ‘ell is that?”

“It’s a phone, love. Look.” I tapped on my Spotify app.

“You boys have been working on a new album with all originals correct?”

“Y-yes, you know this.”

“But you are keeping it a secret, not even I’ve heard the music.” I smirked. “Or at least, you don’t think I have.”

I tapped once more on the screen revealing A Hard Day’s Night album.

“We haven’t even...”

“Named it? Oh, I know. Check this out. Y’know the song the Macca brought to your house yesterday? And I love her?” I pointed to the screen, and viola it was there. I played the song. His eyes widened in shock.

“We haven’t even finished...”

“Yeah, next week George Martin is going to ask for an intro, and George Harrison is gonna come up with something that will make the song.” His mouth was gaping, he couldn’t believe his ears “Don’t believe me? You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask him yourself, and you’ll know it’s true.”

At this point, John knew she couldn’t be lying.

“How...?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea. But, here I am, with you, with the Beatles! And it’s a dream come true!”

“Wait...” He quickly interrupted “You said you were born in 2001. That’s...decades. Are we really that famous?” I could hear the anticipation and excitement in his voice.

Biting my lip, I nodded.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a hit.”

He grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t get too cocky Lennon. You might just fall off your high horse.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Uhm...”

You’re gonna get assassinated.

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Well, you marry this crazy lady.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s ‘er name?”

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

“Alright then. What else?”

“You grow a beard a few times.”

“Really? I’ve always wondered what’d that’d be like.” he looked up thoughtfully.

I giggled at his inquisitive look.

But my joyful moment soon subsided. I finally remembered the truth of the future.

A world without Lennon.

I should tell him. Of course! If I tell him, he’ll know not to step anywhere near that man! He needs to know!

“Erm...there is one more thing.”

He smiled at me “Yes, kitten?”

“You...” I couldn’t help but stare straight into his orbs once again.

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here with me.

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“(y/n)? You still here? I know I look good, but maybe you could not get distracted one tiny second?”

I blushed again, and cleared my throat. “Well, this isin’t really something you wanna hear but...”

“But?”

“Uhm, well, you’re dead.”

He looked down at the ground in slight disappointment. “Of course. We all die eventually.”

“Yes, but with you...” before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my eye. “...you could have lived so much longer...had it not been..”

I choked. Tears continued to stream.

“Love, s’alright. I’m still here. Hey, look at me.” He laced his fingers with mine.

“Y-you were assassinated! That bastard shot you four times! You did nothing wrong!!” I sobbed wildly, mascara streaking on my cheeks.

He was appalled, but continued to comfort me.

“S’alright love, now that I know, I’ll make sure to not be where I was that day, yeah? You’ve saved me! I’ll be alright! Doll, please don’t cry.” He wiped away my tears with his handkerchief.

I looked up at him with relief in my eyes. “You’re gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be ok.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

In that moment I had finally realized.

He was here.

He was alive.

And he loves me.

~~~

Lol, this ended up being more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ll admit to getting a little misty eyed as I wrote this up.

Again, thanks to my computer, which died on me...again... this story is finally out now. Hope you enjoy!

L.M.

#Beatles #John Lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #time traveler

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond Seduction

Summary: Isobella Tennant wants her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he’s kept hidden. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Cursing, appearance shaming, low self esteem, dominating mother, attempted abduction and assault

A/N: for #OC Apprecation Day 2020 #OC’s are People Too

A/N II: Few months ago I came across a stash of old romance novels I’ve had for umpteen years when I had this idea for a series with Sam Winchester. I had been playing with for a while, getting nowhere, and one evening I was watching Thomas Kinkade’s Christmas Cottage with Jared Padalecki and viola Artist!Sam. Not an original title but I liked the sound of it.

Part II Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

London 1875

December 21

“Your daughter will marry my son by lent.” Arthur Ketch forcefully stated as he stood in front of the drawing room window.

“Of course Isobella will marry Ernest, but it’s impossible to do it that soon,” Lavinia Tennant, the Duchess of Monmouth huffed out, running her hand down the over skirt of her terre D'Egypte dress trying to hide nervousness running through her, “but she is the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, it will take at least a year to plan once the bannes have been read.”

“I have given you too much leeway already Lavi and will not have my son wait any longer,” Ketch said calmly, calling her the beloved nickname her husband gave her on their wedding night. Walking over and reaching out to stroke her cheek, watching with satisfaction as she trembled when he grabbed her arm instead, “or I will go to your husband about us.”

It wasn’t the first time he had inferred he would do it but there was something more in his tone this time.

Ketch’s roughness had been exciting, eliciting intense pleasures she had never felt and had come to crave. He was a far cry from her husband, who possessed a loving countenance and even temperament.

She couldn’t initially understand why Ketch hadn’t been accepted by their society. He was intelligent, charming and a Baron after all, even if the title had been bought by his father, who had been in the coal trade.

It was when she tried to end their affair his true intentions surfaced. Ketch had pursued her for the political advancement of his only son Ernest, who worked for Lavinia’s husband in Parliament.

Ketch planned to make his son Prime Minister of England and the Duke of Monmouth’s connections were his ticket. Blackmailing the duchess into forcing her only daughter Isobella to marry Ernest would solidify his position in society.

“I’ve instructed Ernest to propose again at your party in two weeks and she better not refuse him this time, you’ll make sure of that I have no doubt.” Ketch’s menacing tone said it all, he would follow through on his threat this time.

New Years Eve

“I hear he is indeed very talented,” Alexandra Pembrook informs her companion as they strolled into the library, stopping in front of the newly unveiled portrait of David Tennant, the Duke of Monmouth, “and not just as a painter according to Lady Vance.”

Isobella Tennant looked at her friend raising an eyebrow, “Since when do you listen to the idol gossip of Beatrice Vance? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

“That juicy tidbit came by way of her ladies maid. Apparently, she overheard Beatrice telling Lady Lucas how her husband came home unexpectedly and almost caught them In flagrante delicto.”

“This is why I’m happy that I got Katie, she would never gossip about any goings on in this household.” Isobella firmly stated.

Katie had been her mother’s governess before becoming hers and then ladies maid after she was presented in society. Katie moved slower with age and hard of hearing so if anything scandalous was said in her presence, she’d never hear it anyways.

“I also heard he spent three months pursuing Lady De Burgh,” Isobella squinted slightly, trying to place the woman, “you know, Queen Victoria’s newest lady-in-waiting. Palace gossip is that he likes to savor his quarry like delicate morsels, bit by bit.” She licked her lips in emphasis, “Too bad he didn’t see you when he was here, I’d bet my new phaeton he would’ve been more than up for the challenge of obtaining you.”

“Lexi!” Isobella gasped, using her best friend since they were both in pram’s nickname, trying to sound scandalized at the implication but grinned at her knowing the notorious Sam Winchester, who she only saw briefly once while her father was sitting for him, wouldn’t have noticed her even if he sat on her.

She did not possess the in favor looks like Lexi; golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes and envious curves that were enhanced by the fashions of the day, that seemed to tempt him judging by his preferred quarry.

Isobella or Izzy, as everyone but her mother called her, had inherited her grandmother Tennant’s shock of long, thick, unruly copper gold hair, as did her four brothers, who at least had the fortune of being able to keep theirs shorn short, and pale skin covered in cinnamon freckles for days. What couldn’t be overlooked by anyone was, like her brothers, she was tall.

So tall in fact, she stood at least half a head and, in some cases, a full head taller than most of the men in their acquaintance. Her only redeeming qualities, according to her mother, was her title of Lady Tennant and the inheritance that came with it.

Despite being the plainest deb to enter society in years when she was eighteen, Isobella had a line of suitors and was greatly admired for her kindness, quick wit, and intelligence, especially in debate, having learned the skill at her father’s knee.

Now her admirers had drastically fallen away. It seemed what was admired in the girl wouldn’t be tolerated in the woman.

Isabella’s options were dwindling as she was no longer a blossoming flower in society, being just a few months away from turning twenty three.

“Lexi, what kind of scandal could I get into, it’s not like I’ve got suitors beating down my door anymore.”

Lexi looked fondly at her best friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to all of Izzy’s admirers either. Her place in society and her illustrious title as the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth had drawn a lot of the lesser ranking gentleman showing interest but she knew her friend well enough that their status wouldn’t matter to her if they actually loved her.

“You know Ernest is planning on asking again tonight.”

“You know I will decline again.”

“I can’t understand why you keep turning him down Izzy. He is dependable, would give you everything…”

“You know I love Ernest like a brother but there is no way we could make a go of it. He is too placid and I’m…”

“A damn handful, especially when that hard head of yours gets an idea. I didn’t love Pembrook when I agreed to marry him but now…I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“What I want is a man who will love me as is, let me be myself, not expect me to change for the sake of their ego.”

January 10

“Isobella Tennant, tell me that what I heard is not true!” Lavinia yelled as she swept into the breakfast nook.

Izzy and her father both looked up at the overwrought duchess. “Heard what mother?”

“That you were seen racing Ambrose Murdoch on the commons in a pair of breeches!”

“He said Boudicia couldn’t be as quick as his hunter being a mare…”

“And you were riding astride like some common…”

“… I wasn’t gonna let him get away with insulting my horse!”

“Horses, horses, horses! That’s all you think about! It’s time you stop messing with those animals and start breeding my next grandchild!”

“Lavinia! Don’t speak to our daughter that way.”

“David, I need to speak to you privately.” The duchess replied through her clenched teeth.

***

“Our daughter has turned down Ernest again, he is her last chance of getting married and it’s time you put your foot down and insist on her accepting him.” The Duke opened his mouth to say something, “No David, no more excuses. I know she is your favorite for some unfathomable reason and you’ve coddled her for far to long. She is not a fresh candidate anymore and with her plain looks and stubbornness finding another man to marry her…”

The Duke sighed as she droned on about Izzy turning out to be such a disappointment, too strong willed and independent for a woman, saddened that his wife had such a low opinion of their only daughter.

Isobella had always marched to her own beat, which was completely out of tune with her mother’s, long ago learning how to appease her vanity when it became apparent Izzy would not be the beauty her mother had been in her day.

Lavinia Emerson had been the most sought after debutante of her day, possessing luxurious blond locks, chocolate brown eyes and acres of creamy skin encasing a figure that, even after bearing five children, still turned heads.

When she accepted his proposal, David Tennant was under no illusion it was for anything other than for his title as the future Duke of Monmouth. But over the years she had come to love him and they had a good marriage, raising four fine son’s, all married with families of their own except Richard, the youngest at nineteen.

And yes, Izzy was his favorite, not because she was the only girl but she reminded him of his mother, she had that same free spirit but hadn’t above changing her ways for the sake of her family, as he was sure Izzy would once she was married.

“We’ve discussed this before and it’s time to tell her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, if she didn’t accept Ernest, who was an upstanding gentleman despite who his father was; Isobella would end up either alone, being exiled to the edge of good society and tainting her brother’s families or forced to marry anyone who would be willing to take her at her age.

Two nights later

Izzy stared out the large window still unable to comprehend the ultimatum her parents had given her.

Marry Ernest or loose Katie, her horses, and her freedom.

Her father knew what it would do to her under this virtual house arrest, to be at her mother’s by your leave and constant verbal assaults.

It would’ve been kinder to send her to a nunnery.

She thought about her visit to Lexi earlier that day.

“What choice do you have Izzy, you have to marry Ernest, you’d lose your sanity if your mother takes over complete control of your life.”

“If I’m gonna consider giving up my life, there’s one last thing I want to do and you’re going with me.”

Lexi sat up, “One last prank?”

Changing into the god awful orange servants dress she had wriggled from Lexi, Izzy ran down the servants staircase and out their entrance at the back of the house and hailed a hack to take her to Lexi’s and then the music hall.

Izzy walked hurriedly along the quiet streets after the variety shows had let out. She had been unable to find another hack after Lexi left for home so she was forced to start walking. It wasn’t the safest thing for anyone to do at night, especially an unaccompanied woman.

She was almost to the back gate of the grounds when she was grabbed by a man hiding in the shadows.

~~~

Sam Winchester pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, not actually cold from the night air turning chilly but disconsolate; it was his periodic companion. This last eighteen months all he had produced was portraits of London’s elite citizens, nothing inspiring him to create anything original, which gave him his fame in the first place.

He had decided to walk for a bit after leaving the Duke of Monmouth’s having repaired the loose corner of the frame around the portrait of said man. He liked the Duke, he possessed a sarcastic humor and was personable.

For a Tory.

Sam was halfway along the high wall surrounding the vast estate when he heard a rough voice hissing in the shadows, “Stop struggling bitch or I’ll give it to you far worse.”

He ran to the end of the wall remembering there was an alleyway leading to a back entrance. Pausing at the opening he was thankful a gas light was nearby illuminating a burly man struggling to hang onto a woman in a hideous orange dress who was putting up one hell of a fight to get away.

“Hey, let her go!” Sam shouted, rushing towards them.

“Fuck off, this ones mine!” He yelled, shoving her to the ground.

Sam swung his large fist smashing into the stranger’s face. He grabbed his bloody nose for a monument and then threw a surprise right hook making contact with Sam’s left temple briefly stunning him and making his getaway.

“Bastard,” Sam spit out, rubbing his head knowing he’d probably have a headache later. He turned to the woman on the ground. She had drawn her legs up, arms wrapped around her legs shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped towards her causing her to start crawling backwards away from him till she bumped into the wall.

Sam squatted down in front of her, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture and spoke softly to her, “ I’m not gonna hurt you Miss, I want to make sure you’re not hurt, can you nod if you understand me.”

She nodded once, finally looking up from the ground at him.

Sam’s breath caught.

Even under the dim gas light he could make out her unique features and felt that particular skittering under his skin urging him to grab a brush and create like he hadn’t in a very long time.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” standing up he holds out his right hand to her.

“Is..Izzy Morgan.” She replies, taking his outstretched hand. A sensation rippled throughout her in a way she never had with any man, not even with Lord Greyson.

He was the only man Izzy had freely offered herself to and had rejected her in a not so polite manner, publicly gossiping about her attempted seduction of him. It was quickly quashed by her brothers paying him a brief visit.

Sam released her hand, staring intently as he lightly ran his long fingers along her jaw, tracing the contours of; her forehead, curved cheekbones, full lips and nondescript nose, fascinated with the freckles he could just make out in the dim, scattered on her soft skin.

If only it wasn’t so dark to make out the color of her eyes but that hair, absolutely wondrous! He dropped his hand and picked up the tendrils that had come loose running them between his fingers fascinated that it was silky, not wiry, with its kinkiness as he assumed.

She was plain and exquisite at the same time.

“I would love to paint you if you’ll allow me,” she scrunched her forehead confused, “could you ask your employer for time off?”

“You want to paint me, why?”

Sam dropped the hand still playing with her hair and pulled from his coat pocket his card to show he was serious.

“I will pay you generously for your time. If you like I can speak..”

“No! I’m sorry but it’s impossible,” Izzy hurried to the gate and opened it, “thank you for helping me, I am grateful..”

“Then repay it by posing for me.” Sam deepens his whiskey-honeyed voice and watches as she shivered, reacting to it as he hoped.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

~~~

Izzy awoke late the next morning exhausted from her previous night’s adventures. She shuddered feeling the bruises acquired during the struggle with her would be rapist.

The door to her bedroom opened and a younger woman she didn’t recognize entered carrying a tray of tea and a light breakfast.

“Good morning my lady, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I bought a few things. Please let me know what you prefer.”

“Who are you and where is Katie?”

“I’m Margaret, your mother engaged me to be your ladies maid. I was informed that Katie decided to leave and be with her sister in Brighton, my lady.”

“Please take the tray, I only have tea in the mornings and pull out my dark brown riding habit. I’ll dress myself today and will be gone till dinner, thank you.” Isobella instructed, heading into her bath and waited for the maid to leave. After she departed Izzy threw on her outfit and hurried to the stable, saddling the first horse there and took off to Lexi’s for a confab about what to do next.

January 19

Her fingers shook nervously as she buttoned up the servants dress she had borrowed from Lexi again. From the trunk she pulled out the big overcoat and long scarf that used to belong to Phillip, her oldest brother. He had given them to her years ago when the family was in Scotland and hers had proven inadequate for riding in the climate there. Opening a small drawer she removed her old, worn riding gloves and slipped them on. She closed the trunk and locked it.

Making her way up the exterior stairs to the street Isobella locked the door leading to the cellar of Lexi’s home and walked to the hired hack waiting for her, instructing the driver to her final destination.

As the carriage travels over the cobblestone streets Isobella goes over the plan one more time to make sure nothing was missed.

Lexi had suggested she should come with her to Wales while her husband sorted out the details from his father’s sudden passing making him the new Lord of Whitmore. That sparked an idea in Izzy’s mind and they set about laying out the details to pull it off.

Isobella knew her parents, or rather her father, wouldn’t object to her traveling with her best friend to give her some time to consider Ernest’s proposal; with a slight hint that she was inclined to accept upon returning.

What none of them knew was she had her own plan in place and it was to be the scandal of the decade.

The hack dropped her off at the end of the quiet street and she walked briskly towards the address on the card.

~~~

Sam came downstairs in no better mood than he had been when his butler Crowley had awoken him late in the afternoon. At least he was dressed. Well, as dressed as he was willing to get in a clean shirt, trousers and no shoes. He had an odd exchange with the new boy Crowley had engaged to help since he was, according to Crowley, seriously understaffed with the size of his household. Sam laughed considering it was only him, Crowley, Mrs. Mills the cook and a maid.

The new boy had scurried off the fetch more coal as the door knocker sounded. Sam opened it and was stunned to see who was standing there.

“Are you still interested in painting me?”

tbc

If your interested in a tag shoot me an ask

tagging: @atc74 @alleiradayne

#OC Appreciation Day 2020 #OC's Are People Too #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester x OFC

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ladyhistorypod · 4 years ago

Text

Episode 8: I’m Holding out for a She-ro

Sources:

Ida Lewis

Thought Co

Atlas Obscura

Smithsonian Learning Lab

Archive.org

Traditional Music

Further Listening: “The Memory Palace”, “The Eyes of Ida Lewis” by Reg Meuross

Selena Quintanilla-Pérez

Smithsonian Insider

National Portrait Gallery

PBS: Latin Museum USA

CNN

Biography(dot)com

20/20

National Museum of American History

Sábado Gigante

Interview

Further Reading: To Selena, With Love

Rose Valland

Rape of Europa (documentary)

Monuments Men Foundation

The Collector

WideWalls

Statue “of” Rose Valland (image)

Attributions: Airplane Seatbelt Beep, Sailor Song, Spanishy Guitar Thing (that’s the actual name of the file), French Horn Sounds, Trio for Piano Violin and Viola

Click below for a transcript of today’s episode!

Alana: We were talking and I was giving Lexi like things that she could cut from episode six and I was like you can cut just like most of me talking and let someone else… give them, give everyone a break from my voice. And then Lexi was like you're our fearless leader though and I was like no. I'm scared of everything and I just love listening to myself talk, that's what the deal is here, that's what's happening.

Lexi: The fear doesn't come across. So.

Alana: Oh that's good. I wasn’t on TikTok because I don't go on TikTok because I don't have a TikTok because I don't get it. But I follow an account on Twitter that just posts all of Hank Green’s TikToks. Apparently there's like some dance challenge, I bet, or something, I’m making an assumption, where you like put on your shoes or something, and I don’t know. I don’t know. But he was like leaning over doing something with his shoes and then he threw his shoe at the phone and yelled “do your homework” which I thought was very funny.

Haley: Are you gonna talk about Hank Green every episode?

Alana: Yes.

(Haley laughing)

Alana: I wish he was my dad!

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History: the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. It's time for my favorite Zoom meeting. Up in the top left corner is Lexi. Lexi, what's your superpower?

Lexi: My superpower is writing essays the night before they're due, not double checking them, submitting them, and then having the professor say wow you're a great writer.

Alana: And down at the bottom is Haley. Haley, what would your superhero name be and why is it Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots?

Haley: Ugh. I really, I had my super power all ready to go and you switched it up on me. Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots was something off of a whim. That was like a gut visceral reaction to my super power name. I guess I'll stick– I don't know why it's that long. I have a really long last name. I love short and sweet names. I hate that it’s Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots.

Alana: I need to– we need to like keep bringing it up so that we can have Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots merch someday.

Lexi: Please if you'd like to contact Haley write to our podcast.

Alana: We cannot stress this enough. Even if you don't have anything to say, send us a DM and just be like this is for Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots

Haley: This is why I can't speak freely and… I don't know. I can't have nice things because then I say crap like that.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I watch blockbuster superhero movies the way they were meant to be seen; on the tiny airplane screen on the back of the seat in front of me. Or at least I used to.

Haley: Alright. I have a question for you all. What is the definition of a she-ro?

Lexi: A hero who uses she/her pronouns?

Alana: I love that. I think I'm gonna second that. Yeah. I'm also gonna say like people who were overlooked. I know that's like our whole podcast is like people who were overlooked but… That's– that's how I feel.

Lexi: I'm holding out for She-ro.

Alana: Holding out for She-ro. Til… how does the song go I don’t even know.

Lexi: Til the end of the night.

Alana: Can I tell you the first time I heard that song?

Lexi: She’s gotta be strong and she’s gotta be tough.

Alana: The first time I heard that song.

Lexi (high-pitched): She’s gotta be fresh from the fight.

Alana: For reals.

Lexi (somehow even higher-pitched): I’m holding out for a she-ro!

Alana: For reals the first time I heard that song? Shrek 2. Dead serious.

Haley: Yeah. I think that’s… I think that’s the same for me too.

Lexi: No the first time you heard “Holding out for a She-ro” was right now when I wrote it. You may have heard a different song.

Alana: The original song. The original song.

Lexi: This is parody, therefore it's protected under parody law.

Haley: She-ro on the oracle that is Urban Dictionary has like two top definitions in their like first thing that comes up. The first one is a woman or man who supports women's rights and respects women's issues. The second is female hero, basically saying he as in hero and it's like Greek and Old English rooted words going into all that, we're not here for, it's not fun. The fun part is just how someone put in she-ro as an obnoxious word built off the word hero but in the same breath is like a man or woman who fights women's issues and then truly just like a whole mix of how this word’s obnoxious.

Lexi: Thoughts; I hate the term women's issues.

Alana: Me too.

Lexi: That makes me sick to my stomach.

Haley: Yeah I don't like it either.

Lexi: Second, let’s edit Urban Dictionary. My definition was better because I don't like either of those definitions.

Alana: Me neither.

Haley: There are like a whole host of definitions and that was me dwindling it down.

Lexi: Like the fact that it says female hero like that makes me upset because someone can be female and not use she as the pronouns that frustrates me.

Haley: Exactly.

Lexi: And then also I don't like the term women's issues that just doesn't sit well with me. You know, I don't like that.

Haley: Also I didn't think of like hero as like he I always saw it as H. E. R. so like her.

Alana: So that's why you said her-o in the original spreadsheet.

Haley: I also had a few drinks in me but that's neither here nor there.

Lexi: Also the feminine form of hero is heroine but then that sounds like drugs.

Haley: Yeah that's true, that's also true. Honestly I’d rather be a drug than like a woman. If it– women’s rights or like heroin’s rights

Lexi, laughing: In 2020 America, if you were a drug that was being sold by a pharmaceutical company, you would have more rights than a woman.

(Haley laughing)

Alana: Lexi leave that in.

Lexi: Oh hell yeah I will.

Alana, laughing: Oh god.

(Haley and Alana laughing)

Lexi: So our first she-ro today is Idawalley Zoradia Lewis who was born on February 25, 1842, and in 1854 her family moved to a little island called Lime Rock. It was off the coast of Newport, Rhode Island. The family made the move when her father became keeper of the lighthouse there, and living on a rock meant her and her three younger siblings needed to row a boat back and forth to school on the mainland each day, so Ida became a strong rower. She also learned to swim against really rough waves and so she was just all around really good in the water. In 1858, sixteen year old Ida rescued four young men. The group had been sailing when a strong wave capsized their boat near Lime Rock and Ida, by this time a well-practiced rower, rowed out to where the boys were struggling to tread water. She hauled all four of them aboard and brought them to shore. The event received very little publicity even though this sixteen year old girl saved four people. When Ida was in her teens, her father's health began to decline and he became wheelchair-bound, so Ida had to learn the skills needed to keep the lighthouse running so that her family can continue to run the lighthouse and receive an income. In 1869, a pair of soldiers were on a boat near Lime Rock during a snowstorm and the snowstorm turned their ship over. Ida, who was actually ill at the time, didn't even stop to put on her coat and went out to rescue the soldiers with the assistance of her younger brother. In recognition of her service at this time, President Ulysses S. Grant awarded her the Congressional Medal of Honor. Grant and his vice president visited Ida’s lighthouse to congratulate her and the story about the rescue was published in the New York Tribune. In 1872, Ida’s father unfortunately passed away and her mother briefly became the lighthouse keeper. In 1870, Ida became the lighthouse keeper because her mother was beginning to be sick. At one point, she was the highest paid lighthouse keeper in America. Her mother, who was now at this point very ill, eventually passed away in 1887. There is no written record of the exact number of people Ida saved, but accounts from the time estimate she saved at least eighteen people or possibly as many as thirty-six. Many national magazines acknowledged her for her great heroism and she became a household name in New England. In 1911, Ida is believed to have suffered a stroke. She died shortly after. The city of Newport flew their flags at half mast and thousands of fans came to Lime Rock to bid her farewell. After her death, the lighthouse was renamed Ida Lewis Lighthouse and Lime Rock was renamed Lewis Rock in honor of her 54 years of service. Lewis Rock is now home to the Ida Lewis Yacht Club. Though Ida’s actions and career were considered masculine and caused much debate during her lifetime, she was recognized as a heroine by many young women who admired her. She inspired girls, showing them women could be strong, and save men, something young women at the time likely did not see reflected anywhere else in their lives. And that's what makes her a she-ro.

Alana: I was literally today talking about when I was– when I was like 11 or something we did… my family did like a sort of driving tour of Cape Cod, Connecticut, and Rhode Island and I was literally talking about that trip with my mom on the phone today because it's Sunday, it's call your mother day. So I was like actually talking about Rhode Island today which is really interesting. Like what a weird coincidence. I didn't know anything about her. That's cool.

Lexi: She is a little-named person. She's not frequently mentioned, but she does appear in some historical books, sometimes. Like there's a book in the Smithsonian Libraries that is called like “Women Heroes of our Great Nation” and it's from like 1890-something, like during her lifetime, and it mentions her. And it has a cute little drawing of her rowing a boat.

Alana: Do you have a link to that in the show notes?

Lexi: I do not have that specific link, but I can give it to you and I will put– we’ll put it in the show notes. That link will be in the show notes. It's not yet but I will put it in there.

Alana: I have to see this drawing.

Haley: So this shero might come as a surprise because you might be like why did she save the day? But hopefully the story I tell will kind of steer you on that path. Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, or the queen of Tejano music, was one of the most iconic singers of the late 20th century and a trailblazer in Tejano music. I know I know the theme is “saved the day” and you're probably thinking why Selena? What did she save? Well I basically wrote half a page of this long winded story on why she saved the day in my middle school Spanish class, but honestly just Google the testimonies on how Selena changed the lives of so many people and you be the judge of this whole story. So let’s crack open this history book on Selena. Born on April 16, 1971 in Lake Jackson, Texas, her family wasn't originally from fame, but before fame she was a singer of her family's band Selena y Los Dinos, that worked weddings, fairs, and other venues along the US-Mexican border. And her father was also a musician back in the day, so not only did the kids get the musical talent from him but they also were trained and mentored by him. And you see a lot of the family influence come out and her music later. So funnily enough she grew up speaking English, not speaking Spanish but her father taught her how to sing in Spanish so she could connect better with the Latin American community. And in the HBO 1997 Selena movie with J. Lo you kind of see like how and why Abraham, her father, picked that. And she did learn to speak Spanish fluently because actually rose to fame she had to kind of be in interviews and a lot of these were Mexican broadcasting news organizations, which they were going to be asking and expecting her to answer in Spanish. So her rise to fame, she had to break so many barriers because of Tejano music, which is a style of music that fuses Mexican, U. S. and European elements together, was heavily male dominated. In 1990, her Ven Conmigo album was the first to Tejano album by a female artist to go gold, and in the following years songs like gonna Como La Flor, Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, Si Una Vez and others quickly made it to the top of charts and are still iconic songs. Even on the radio, a few days ago I listened to this. I was listening to some channel and Como La Flor came on and I was like “I'm doing her this is like a sign” because I really struggled to pick a shero. Through all this fame, she is noted as humble, caring, and overall a lovely girl who truly put her family, friends, and fans above her own happiness sometimes, and people would just comment on how great she was in interviews, just meeting her on the street, and even the HBO and other documentaries, movies, show that she was just a lovely lovely human. To pivot slightly she was most definitely a renaissance woman while continuing her musical career, she started a whole fashion experience. Her style overall was considered to be breaking bounds of toting the line between “sexy rebel” and “Mexican American good girl” and for those who do not know, she is most known for her bustiers, tight pants, and jackets. All these fashion icons were inspirations from her stagewear, which she made available to the public because she made those herself which I thought was pretty cool like all her stagewear is coming from her. Especially when they were just like a touring small band along the border, they would have to get creative and Selena would take charge in what everyone would wear on stage. The Smithsonian's National Museum of American History actually has one of the leather outfits she wore and I couldn't figure out if it was on display or not but they do have that and I believe other Selena artifacts and have done a lot of stuff of Selena which will all be on the show notes. She is also sometimes is referred to as “Mexican Madonna'' which I personally think is garbage for so many reasons because both of those females, women, ladies are their own identities and like her music doesn't sound like Madonna.

Alana: No. The only way that Selena is the Mexican Madonna, is if Madonna is the White Selena.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: Like I would accept like either of those because I love flipping that script.

Haley: I saw that quote like “Mexican Madonna” too many times to not put it in and just be like this is a dumpster fire

Lexi: But like I think only similarity is the leather.

Haley: It’s like the leather and the bustiers, and the bustiers she would wear would be like bedazzled bras... so I was thinking like Madonna and the cone boobs. And it’s like, what, we're gonna call Katy Perry like...

Lexi: So many female singers dress like that

Haley: Yeah, so like I wish I was born, I was born right after #1997Baby because I would have totally gotten a leather jacket from Selena. Like when she did her whole public appearance, there are so many interviews of her talking about her clothing, and you see how passionate she is. She broke even more barriers when she became the first Tejano artist to win the Grammy for best Mexican-American album in 1994 and this was at the 36th Grammy Awards. Unfortunately, only a year after her Grammy win at the height of her fame she was murdered. At age 23 she was murdered by the president of her fan club, Yolanda Saldivar in Corpus Christi, Texas, and Yolanda was considered like her close friend, part of the family even though Abraham has been on record saying like he didn't trust her, especially when a lot of like paper trails of money going missing and just fans being like this is not right like I ordered this thing and this came instead or nothing came at all, where he was like “okay, why is Yolanda in our life, how did she come about?” and really Yolanda approached Selena and was like “I’m your number one fan, let me do all this stuff for you.” Once the money laundering and all the other like sketchy stuff was coming to light that's when she killed Selena with a gun. So there's a lot of info about like Yolanda and her head space for this and since she survived and Selena didn't obviously they use Yolanda. Like 20/20 did a whole episode interviewing Yolanda and there's a clip even where she is saying her conscience is clear, she didn't mean to kill Selena, and the murder was a complete accident and like she... I got the sense that she felt worse that she didn't commit suicide versus like murding Selena. Yeah, Alana is giving me that face. It was just such a horrible, horrible scenario. I got the sense that Selena went to confront her or told her dad that she’ll confront Yolanda, starting like “Hey, there’s a lot of sketchy, criminal activity coming out, and you are the president of my fan club, what is going on? I’m talking to you as my friend and I want to work this out with you.” Apparently Yolanda had a gun, was willing, and did use it on Selena. I believe she died either on the way to the hospital or at the hospital. I couldn't get a full confirmation from a reputable source of what happened there. Honestly that whole 20/20 I linked in the show notes it's on YouTube and different parts, someone kindly posted that and it just shows you how sketchy Yolanda was and clearly the interviewers were trying to like kind of be like okay you're kind of a kook we don't have Selena's mark, we want to do a tribute of her overall legacy, we're gonna pick you. And Yolanda is actually up for parole in 2025 which I knew when I saw the movie in middle school, hence she saved my day that day going back to that. Now it just feels so much more real being like in 2020 versus like some random mid 2000s because all our whole like middle school class was obsessed with Yolanda. Honestly most people were for like the wrong reason like they start looking at her Wikipedia's seeing that Yolanda has like a fan club now which is like completely inappropriate. But I kept thinking like yo, why is she on parole and she would be on patrol because she would have served at least thirty years of her sentence so it's like thirty years to life sentence. Honestly, I don't think she's going to get paroled. I never read an indication that she was but you never know.

Alana: The Yolanda fan club kind of goes back to what we were saying in our lady criminals episode.

Haley: Yes.

Alana: Like these friggin serial killers that have fan clubs and that's so messed up.

Haley: I almost actually paved Yolanda Saldivar as my lady criminal because just whole rap sheet on her and there's just so much on like her publicness, she is still alive, and in the interviews she's like wearing makeup, wearing nice clothing, and I’m like you are painting her as an innocent, sweet lady, she is talking about murder! This is… no. I feel like we wouldn't do that for certain people like people still have sympathy for her, hence she's not wearing like the prison jumpsuit they're not doing in a prison yard. They're like creating this space to paint a picture. So to end on a happy note I've kind of compiled the list on her legacy and Boy Howdy even just in the past few years the list goes on and on. I made like a whole list from when she died and after so like 1995 to 2020 and yes it's a lot of years, but just all the stuff. There's a lot of family drama, court drama, stuff with Yolanda Saldivar and to keep it positive and keep it with stuff that we can use as Lady History and just like us as a community, loving her… Mac cosmetics has created two makeup lines in her honor. The lipstick is chef's kiss gorgeous. It's like her iconic red lipstick. I'm still looking for it. I keep thinking I’ll see it when I go to Mac or Sephora and I should probably just order online. She also has a Hollywood Walk of Fame star which you can go visit. Lastly, we have a ton of documentaries and biopics, notably the movie with J. Lo that is and back on HBO and I believe Netflix is also in the works with creating a series within the near future. The trailer’s out it looks fantastic and in my ever so humble opinion, a lot of these biopics are actually pretty decent. They do show the good, the bad, and the ugly and I could be wrong, you could totally fight me but when I watched the movie when I had HBO, made a list of points I wanted to hit or kind of corroborate because I thought it was interesting when I was watching the movie of like oh the J.Lo movie did like a great job because all that like I could find in like interviews or like the Smithsonian had a bunch of PBS, CNN for a PSA for the sources; lots of visuals this time, so if you're a visual, you like the videos you like the audio for it, rather than the text of all the books definitely check those out.

Alana: That was cool. Definitely not someone I think of as fitting this topic, that was awesome.

Haley: We defined sheroes like anyone who makes an impact

Alana: Yeah.

Haley: And honestly I had the whole joke of how I really do want to be in my Spanish middle school class and I didn't know of her existence beforehand. I've listened to some of her music growing up I didn't realize like her whole story and that was Seleh-na, Seleena, however you want to say it, I don't know you can you can fight me on how to pronounce the name but like it was the first time I saw Spanish representation in a Spanish class which is saying a lot.

Alana: Awesome, That's so cool. I guess it helps when you are telling real stories and not being, or at least trying to tell real stories and not making shit up.

Haley: Yeah, also at least for the cast for J. Lo, I'm thinking off the top of my head weren't like white people playing Hispanic, Latino characters. The Spanish was good. Like we'll see West Side Story and Natalie Wood with brown face on that was not the situation will not be the situation for Netflix.

Lexi: sings * MMMAAARRIIIAAAA *

Haley: I will get so mad if that comes around like that again.

Lexi: Ya know I can play Maria on the French Horn.

Alana: So something that Lexi and Haley know about me and now all of our lovely listeners are going to know about me is I have two favorite things: museums and fucking over Nazis. This story has both. Lexi is giving me a round of applause. We love it. So did you two see “Monuments Men?”

Haley: No I have not.

Alana: Lexi is nodding. Well my lady for today is the inspiration for the character Claire Simone played by Cate Blanchett in the movie “Monuments Men.” She's kind of turned into just a love interest but this is not a movie review podcast this is a history podcast. So. Rose Valland. She was born on November 1, 1898 in a small town in France that I'm not even gonna try to pronounce. It occurred to me that this is why we tend to stick with ladies who are American and British is because so many of these sources were in French and I was like I don't speak French. Sometimes I feel bad about that but other times I'm like I can't read these sources.

Lexi: We should get some listeners to send us translations of ladies from their home countries that we can use. So if you have a lady from your home country or speak a language of a country, translate some sources for a rare lady and send them to us.

Alana: We would love to talk about rare ladies who are like– that's the whole point, like overlooked by history.

Haley: Google Translate does not help. I'm ready for someone to be like use Google Translate because I’ve seen that on so many podcasts.

Alana: Yeah. I have a Google Translate story later in this about how bad it was. Rose earned two separate degrees in art history from the École du Louvre and The Sorbonne. I over-pronounce things in French because you can't be corrected if you're wrong on purpose. She also has two previous degrees from École des Beaux-Arts in Lyon and in Paris which I think translates just like to school for fine arts or school of fine arts. And yet, she takes an unpaid volunteer job at the Jeu de Paume in 1932. It says volunteer, I've been thinking of her as an unpaid intern because that just resonates with me personally. I watched the documentary “Rape of Europa” which is all about this project. I did that while I was a little bit drunk and I looked at my notes afterwards and I have this line here in all caps, holy shit she was unpaid. I was very excited about her being an unpaid intern because unpaid interns can do anything.

Lexi: The amazing thing about that is that for most of museums’ history, once women were allowed in, they weren't allowed to be paid to work.

Alana: That's a whole other issue.

Lexi: When you look at the Smithsonian archives, the number of women that were just there because their husband was there but then actually contributed way more than their husbands but then got paid like eighty bucks as a present one time? Like… crazy. I digress.

Alana: And the Jeu de Paume is an art museum a little bit further from Paris, a little bit lesser known from Paris. It's like… for my DC friends, my DC audience it's like the Louvre is the National Gallery of Art and the Jeu de Paume is the Hirschhorn. So like it's a little bit lesser known but like still really cool. I can't find a good timeline for like her level of promotion and how far she came which… how? This was like less than a hundred years ago, but okay. Eventually she gets a job being a paid attaché and then becomes assistant curator when the curator falls ill. She was in charge of modern art exhibits which is very interesting because a very prominent art school reject has just become Chancellor of Germany and hates modern art and thinks it's degenerate. Oh. This will come into play later. It was Hitler. I just want to be like Hitler was an art school reject who thought modern art– I guess 1930s art was degenerate. I just wanna explain the joke.

Lexi: That’s my second favorite fact about Hitler.

Alana: What's your first favorite fact?

Lexi: That he only had one testicle.

Alana: That he only had one testicle. Okay. So. In October of 1940, the Nazis commandeered the Jeu de Paume for storing looted art. This was the Eisen– I don’t speak German. I’m gonna get it clean. Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg Project. It was the name of the operation that Hitler used for all of the basically art looting that he did. That was like the name of the project; name of the operation. And then the director of the French National Museums says to Rose Valland “stay there. Be a spy.” And she's like “okay” and she works the phones which is an amazing way to like listen in to keep track of movements. But guess what? They're like being all loosey-goosey with their info around her because they're like “oh she's French, we're speaking German, it'll be fine.” Plot twist, she knows German! So she managed to keep a diary of which, like, prominent Jewish collectors owned what and what went where and who took it and where it was going and catalogued all this stuff. She was interrogated for being a spy twice and there is a quote from her– like she wrote a memoir about this, this time in her life and she says “he looked at me straight in the eye and told me I could be shot. I calmly replied that no one here is stupid enough to ignore the risk.” And that is movie dialogue level shit. Like, oh my god. Incredible. But like so, she's interviewed a couple times and she was like “no look I'm a woman I can't be a spy, look at my glasses.” (Alana laughing)

Haley, whispering: I’m a spy.

Lexi: Remember, women can't be money, women can't be spy.

Alana: Women don't be money women don't be spies.

Haley: We all have glasses, so we are all spies.

Alana: We are all spies. Can’t be glasses. She has– there are like all these cute little pictures of her and she was wearing Harry Potter glasses but this was way before Harry Potter and also like Harry Potter's kind of cringe now so I think we need to call Harry Potter glasses Rose Valland glasses. That's my new social movement, that's my new fight.

Lexi: Acceptable. We should start a Twitter campaign.

Alana: Yeah. I should. After the war, she kept working with the museum and she kept working with the Monuments Men. That was like their actual name, that's not just the name of the movie. And she was looking for the stolen art and she was part of the French Commission on Art Recovery. At age 54 she was finally made curator. Women… Women don't be museums, women don't be money, women don't be spies, women don't be museums. She's also given so many awards before she's even made curator. She's like the most decorated woman in France and then she's made curator. And like, that's all she ever wanted, was to be a curator but she has like– she's awarded the Legion of Honor, the Medal of the Résistance, the Officer’s Cross of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany, she's made Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters. In 1948 she was given the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but all she wants is to be curator of this museum.

Lexi: I have never felt a story on this show so hard.

Alana: And then , wait, how us is this part? She retired from the museum in 1968, but she went back to being a volunteer for ten years. I've never felt closer to a woman.

Lexi: Incredible. Yeah. I think this is my past life.

Alana: Yeah, right? She published a book called– it's basically like “The Front of Art” like “The Art Front.” It's a pun on a different book called “The Art of the Front.” But so she's just talking about like fighting the war but from the perspective of an art museum, essentially. It became the Hollywood movie “The Train” in the sixties but in her book she's not like a hero or glorifying herself. She's very objective and her fictionalized character in “The Train” has like ten minutes of screentime. She just wants to talk about the deeds, not really herself; she's just like “I was doing my job…” Which is the only way you should be using that phrase in the context of World War II. But James Rorimer, who is fictionalized to James Granger and Matt Damon– Matt Damon's character in “Monuments Men”– in an early draft of his book, he literally says “Rose Valland is the hero of this story.” I just think it's so amazing that she was so prominent in this, and all she's like “okay I just want to go work at my museum now, goodbye” but with a French accent… because she was French.

Lexi: I was gonna attempt it but I'm not going to.

Alana: I’m not gonna do it, I can't do it. There is a statue of– it's sort of, there is a statue that's sort of of her in Lille, France L. I. L. L. E. France. Which is like a little town about 225 kilometers or 140 miles north of Paris. It's pretty close to the Belgian border. The way in which I had to go to the Hebrew language Wikipedia page and translate it to English to find out that's where the statue was… So here's my Google Translate story. In Hebrew, I speak very little Hebrew, shout out to my at-home synagogue who gave me a job teaching Hebrew even though I don't speak it. I love that. But there's a prefix V- which means and. And so when I translated the page into English, the computer translated Rose V-alland to Rose and Allan. So that's why we don't trust the Google Translate. That's why we don't trust the computer translate. We only trust the people. The humans. Because there's like no capitals in Hebrew, so you can't tell what's a name and what's not. This statute does not look like her at all. It's more like a monument to her. It's like a woman, wrapped in a sheet, surrounded by empty frames, and it's kind of weird but it's like a memorial to her. There is ongoing work with the recovery project. There are still paintings that the Nazis looted that haven't been found; it is called the E. R. R. project for. Eizen– Eizenstab or whatever. And they're trying to find the stolen works and it is sponsored by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum– please give me a job United States Holocaust Memorial Museum– and the Jewish Claims Conference. So it's like her life is not– like her life's work is not complete and we have to finish it. I had a really good time researching this story. Shout out to my dad for the four bucks he gave me so that I could rent “Monuments Men” on Amazon. Yeah. I also have documentaries this week. It's fun that we've like done different kinds of sources.

Lexi: We covered such different she-roes like–

Haley: I love it.

Lexi: Mine’s like the classical like she literally like pulled someone out of water.

Haley: Yeah.

Lexi: And then Haley's is more like look how many people's lives that she touched and therefore like saved people through music and then Alana’s is about saving art. Which is so cool that we all have different types of heroes. There's no wrong way to be a she-ro.

Haley: That's why I wanted to ask the question.

Alana: What is a she-ro.

Haley: Yeah. I love that.

Lexi: Anyone can be a she-ro.

Alana: Anyone who uses she/her pronouns can be a she-ro. Lexi's doing a fist pump and it's very funny that she has a screenshot from one of our previous Zoom meetings as her Zoom background.

Haley: What would be the non-binary version of hero/she-ro?

Alana: They-ro.

Haley: Okay.

Lexi: Yeah, I love that.

Haley: Well, I wanted to say that but then I didn't want to be like– that was in my head, but…

Alana: They-ro.

Haley: Trying to like pronounce it sounded weird.

Alana: Like my favorite joke that nobody likes, like happy Rosh– or like, Shana Tova to all my Hebrews, shebrews, and theybrews.

Haley: Yes.

Alana: My favorite joke in the whole world and I made it on Twitter nobody liked it. If you see me on Twitter no you don't.

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on lady history pod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review or tell your friends, and if you don’t like the show, keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, Garageband, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next week on Lady History; we're heading to the zoo to monkey around. Get ready for some zoologists, zookeepers, primatologists, you name it. It’s going to be such an animal party.

Alana: I have a confession to make. Every time you say the birthdate of one of your ladies I’m like “Oh, so her star sign is…”

(Lexi laughing)

Alana: Like, Haley was like “she was born on April 16th” and in my head I'm like “so she's an Aries…”

Haley: I think of the same thing. I like–

Alana: It's just like where I am. I always think that like… every time I write down a birthday I'm like “oh maybe this time I'll be like oh that makes her a Scorpio. Like, Rose Valland, Scorpio.

1 note · View note

mskinkyafro · 6 years ago

Text

Off the Clock (Aubrey x MC)

NOTE: I’m a dumbass and somehow deleted part of this fic so I’m reposting the entire fic. Sorry for any inconvenience y’all

Viola stands firm and tall with her chest held high yet she can’t help but fidget as she anxiously waits for Alec to lay into her.

(“Oh God! Please don’t let him demote me!”)

Viola silently prays and murmurs her mantra in her head over and over again as she watches nervously as Alec’s tomato face begin to shift as he opened his mouth to speak. Before he can the shrill ringing of a phone goes off. Alec murmurs expletives and fishes his cellphone out his pocket and answers it.

“What!? Yes, this is Alec Burdock...”

The man turns away from Viola as he’s preoccupied with the phone call. She notices in that moment all the studio’s employees watching their boss’s hissy fit and them whispering to each other. She feels a comforting light pressure on her arm and turns to notice Aubrey who stepped closer. His blue eyes showing concern, asking the question of is she alright.

Viola gives him a small smile and gently squeezes his hand that rests on her arm, allowing her fingers to trace his hand as she pulls away. She quickly turns her head away from Aubrey, her golden locks swishing and blocking her view, however out of her peripheral vision she can catch a glimpse of a blush creeping his skin. She picked up some of his thoughts as she focus back on Alec’s turned figure.

“She did it again! And in plain sight where everyone can see! Oh screw it, after all that’s happen today I do not care. Gosh, every time she touches me it makes me feel like I swallowed a thousand butterflies.”

Despite being publicly scolded by her employer by her coworkers, hearing Aubrey’s thought about her made her smile brightly which unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by Alec. Aggressively ending his call and shoving his phone on his phone he noticed the lovesick expression smeared on her face.

“Wipe that look off your face Porchia! You thinking about your scam artist electrician boyfriend, James when you’re in deep shit.”

Viola face drops and she composes herself to look Alec in the eyes.

“One, his name is Jaime, second, not that you even care or listen he isn’t boyfriend, and he didn’t have to come as fast as he did. Why am I in trouble?”

“Look, I’ve had enough of your mouth, but lucky for you I don’t have the time nor energy to deal with you right now so Monday morning be in my office 7:00 a.m. on the dot for your reassignment.”

Without an confirmation from Viola, he stalked into his office and shut the door loudly behind him. She lets out a loud sigh in relief as Aubrey comes near again as all the other employees turned away to gossip.

“At least that’s over.”

“Yeah, but now I have to deal with him Monday.”

“You have a point there. But that’s days away. You deserve to detox after a day like this, focus on the weekend. I mean T.G.I.F.”

The frown that graced Viola’s pouty lips flipped onto a smile and she then moves so that her arms wrap around Aubrey’s neck and gives him a tight hug.

“You’re right. Thanks for checking on me and putting a smile back on my face.”

Without trying Viola could hear Aubrey’s thought as clear as the day.

“Hand touching, holding her hips, her falling into my arms, and now a hug?! Man, today is one for the books. I’ll never get over how soft she is or how she smells of a mixture of sweet citrus fruits. Okay enough gushing, don’t want to sound creepy.”

Aubrey wraps his arms around Viola briefly before letting go.

“Ahem, it was nothing. I hate seeing you upset.”

“And you should take a compliment, it was more than nothing.”

The two smile at each other before Aubrey clears his throat and takes a few steps backward.

“I um have to check on the other sections of the studio before everyone heads home. So I guess I’ll catch you later.

“Definitely.”

She watches him smile and turn to talk to the makeup department. Viola thinks to herself for a moment as she walks to her dressing room to collect her car keys and purse.

(“Hmmm, maybe I should invite Aubrey over? It’s been awhile since we’ve had time together that wasn’t at work.”)

With a smirk crossing her face she grabs her things walks swiftly out the room and turns the corner to knocks right into another person sending them to the ground, she’s unaware it's the man she’s searching for.

“Oof! Sorry..Aubrey!”

“Hello again, Viola. You seem to find yourself in my arms as of late.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I made it a habit would you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He smiles up at her and brushes a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and stares in her hazel-green eyes. Viola feels her face grow hot at his touch. Their breaths grow shallow as they just stare at the other, locked in a trance. In the silence, though his mouth doesn’t move she can hear Aubrey loud and clear.

“Should I kiss her? I want our first one to be romantic and magical, but having her so close right here and right now...I think I’m gonna do it.”

“Aubrey…” her words die at her lips as she feels his face near hers. Their lips almost touch but the sound of footsteps and laughter breaks the spell and forcing the two to get up from the floor. They scramble to their feet and dust themselves off.

“Ahem...I erm um..well I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong literally. I was actually looking for you.”

“Were you?” His eyebrow perks up curiously.

“Yes, actually. Our adventure earlier rummaging in the dark inspired me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. You mentioned a slumber party and thought I haven’t had one since I was ten, but it’s not a party if it’s just one person. Sooo...I thought maybe you’d like to come over.”

Viola stares at the ground and bites her plump lip nervously awaiting his answer.

(“This was stupid wasn’t it? I know he likes me quite a bit, but maybe this was a little too childish.” )

“Sounds fun. I’d love too! Why don’t you send me your address?

“Really? Okay great! Hand me your phone, I’ll input my number and send you my address.”

“Perfect.”

“I can’t wait to have some off the clock fun.” she says with a smirk gracing her lips. His thoughts jumped at her once those words left her mouth.

“She couldn’t possibly mean… Well it’s not like I wouldn’t want to. She’s gorgeous and the idea may have popped up once or twice but we’re still getting to know one another, we haven’t even kissed yet, but few minutes ago we were so close, and yet we’re coworkers…”

She noticed how his eyes grew wide at her words and his face turning red by the second as he pulled on his collar. He sputters as he tries to make a complete sentence.

(“I probably should’ve worded that slightly better. But seeing him all fluster is pretty funny and he’s super cute when nervous.”)

“And I mean, alcohol when I said off the clock fun.” she giggles.

Viola sees Aubrey relax and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Oh! That...right. Of course.”

“You seem surprised? What did you think I meant?

Aubrey”s hand instinctively rub behind his neck as he avoids contact with Viola’s eyes.

“Oh...nothing really...erm...”

Feeling bold she walks closer to the man so they’re inches apart and she lets her finger trail down his chest.

“Because I have a theory of what I think you thought I meant, while the idea sounds fun…”

She uses her tiptoes to stand taller so she can place her lips near Aubrey’s ear. She can feel his body tense at her movement but she continues and whispers seductively.

“You have to play your cards right to be dealt that jackpot.”

She takes a step back and winks at Aubrey and turns to walk out the studio.

“See you soon.”

Later that evening Viola strolls into her living room wearing red jogger sweatpants, an old white tank crop top. She runs her hands through her damp, curly blond afro as she pulls it in a messy bun, her normally straighten style long gone from her shower. Once she finishes wrapping her hair she goes into the kitchen and sets a bowl full of popcorn and other snacks on the coffee table and a bottle of white wine. She stands up and places her hands on her hips as she surveys the spread.

“Hmm did I forget anything?”

“Are you sharing any of those goodies with me?” a voice exclaimed followed by insistent paws jumping at her legs.

Laughing Viola picks up her puppy and cuddle him into her arms.

“Hello Underoos! No, but I’m having a new special friend over who I’m sure would love to play with you.”

She sets him back down and watches as the excited puppy runs around the table, his thoughts running rapidly.

“Oh! A new friend!!I can’t wait! I wonder if he’s as nice as the other man who gives me peanut butter!”

The puppy continues to run wildly that through his excitements he barrels into the small kitten, Fauna.

“Oww! I came to be social once and I immediately regret it.”

Viola shakes her at her pets, bemused by their antics. She leans over and untangles the two and picks Fauna up and gently strokes her ears.

“Oh Fauna. You know how excited Underoos gets. He didn't mean it. Come stay.”

Fauna purrs into Viola’s arms.

“I’ll need more convincing but so far you’re on the right track with the rubs.”

The doorbell rings and Viola turns to open the door. As she reaches her front door her hand lands on the knob and opens the door.

“Hey there! And I see you brought dinner. Do I smell Vietnamese?”

She steps back to let Aubrey into her apartment. He walks in with his hands heavy of bags.

“It was the least I could do since you were gracious enough to invite me over plus I remember you saying it was your favorite. Where can I place it?”

Shutting the door with her hips and still holding Fauna, Viola walks into the living room and sidles next to Aubrey who’s laughing at Underoos who’s vying for his attention.

“You can set it on the coffee table next to the other food. And I see that Underoos here has made his presence known.”

Aubrey sets the food down and then turns to rub the puppy.

“He’s quite adorable. And what about the beauty in your arms?”

“This is Fauna. She may or may not join us in our slumber party, but for now she seems content with hanging with us humans.”

“Exactly sister. How about switching to my belly, you’re eroding my ears at this point.”

Viola shifts Fauna onto her back in her arms and sits down on the couch and begins to rub the kitten’s belly.

“I definitely spoil you too much Fauna.”

Aubrey moves from his knees and sits beside Viola on the couch. Underoos bolts up once he realizes his source of belly rubs are gone and jumps so he’s sitting on Aubrey’s lap.

“Woah! I guess we’re both whipped for these two sweethearts, aren’t we Viola.”

“And it’s gonna stay that way mister. Lady, keep this one right here. He knows who's in charge and willing to comply.”

“They do seem to have that effect. However, I’m hungry and these two are going to have to wait for more cuddles and rubs.”

Viola presses a small kiss to Fauna and then places one on Underoos head before setting both animals onto the floor.

“Off you two go.”

The two animals bark and meow at the two humans and make their way to the back room to entertain themselves. Viola and Aubrey then begin to dig into the food and talk amongst themselves, teasing and laughing with each other.

Soon Viola gets up to clear away the trash and heads to the kitchen to throw it away and find her way back to her seat.

“So what do you want to watch?”

“I’m game for anything, Viola.”

She grins wide and turns to place her hand on his thigh knowing it will cause him to blush.

“Ohhh that’s really close. Don’t freak out Aubrey, act natural.”

I’m so glad you said that, my dear Watson.”

She grabs the remote from the table and hit a few buttons and the opening theme of BBC Sherlock plays. Leaning back into her seat she relaxes as the show plays.

She can feel Aubrey staring at her and she can’t help but giggle.

“Yes?”

“How long were you waiting to say that?

“Awhile. Did you hate it.”

“Not exactly. But it was a god awful pun.”

“Are you saying it’s...elementary, my dear Watson?”

Aubrey shifts in his seat so his body is aligned with Viola’s and wraps his arm over the back of the couch and leans in closer.

“You’re smart, Holmes. I’m sure you’ve deduced it.”

“Oh I have. But the question is, have you…”

Viola perks up and closes the gap between the two to the point of millimeters keep them apart. She looks up at him with desire in her eyes as she places her hand on his chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt.

“Perhaps there was an underlying motive. And if so, have you’ve figured it out?” she whispers. Her heartbeat is erratic from nerves and anticipation.There’s a silence and the air is filled with sexual tension. Surprisingly she can only hear her own thoughts screaming at her.

(“This is okay. You’re fine. Don’t throw up. Maybe he’ll take the hint and go for the fatality. And. Just. Kiss.Me.”)

Not far from hearing herself she also can hear bits of Aubrey’s.

“...Now or never. Just do it man.”

Feeling his hand curve to gently grasp her cheek and caress it adoringly, Viola let her eyes flutter shut as she felt the gap come to a close. She sighed to herself as she responded to the way Aubrey’s lips pressed to her own. It was simple, soft, and sweet. She lets her hands rest on his chest rubbing up and down. She reluctantly pulled apart so they could breath. As they catch their breaths all they can do is stare.

“Wow.”

(“Wow")

She leans his forehead onto his as a shy smile widens on her face as his hands lower to hold her hips.

“So that was...”

“Amazing.” he finishes her sentence.

They laugh and Viola presses as chaste to his lips before twisting herself to lay in his arms.

“So I’m taking it that you like-like me.”

“Hehehe. So this was your plan all along? Just to get me to reveal my crush.” he teases.

“More along the lines of getting you to kiss me. And it worked.”

“It appears so. Hey Viola?

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna do it again.”

“I’d be disappointed if yo-”

Viola is cut off by Aubrey’s lips on her pressing more urgently yet softly. His tongue dancing with hers. He breaks away and shifts to cuddle her into his arms tightly as they sit together in each other's arms watching television, enjoying each other’s company.

#wt aubrey #wishful thinking fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #choices wishful thinking #wishful thinking #Aubrey x MC #aubrey watson #aubrey watson x mc #Aubrey Waston x MC #Repost #can't believe I deleted the og post lol

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thelastspeecher · 6 years ago

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Got in a mood to write some sappy dad!Stan. So I did. In the Werepire AU. Enjoy some werewolf/vampire babies.

“The soon-to-be fav’rite uncle is here,” Fiddleford sang, knocking on the door to Angie’s hospital room. The door opened. Stan squinted at him.

“Pretty sure Lute’s gonna be the favorite,” Stan said. Fiddleford frowned at him. “Eh, never mind. The girls will make their own decisions.”

“And your son?” Ford asked. Stan stood to the side so Fiddleford and Ford could file in. The lights were dimmed, allowing Angie to sleep soundly in her hospital bed.

“Yeah, about that, turns out the doctor read the sonogram wrong,” Stan replied. “All three of ‘em are girls. Which kinda sucked, since the name we thought of for a boy was Daniel, and we didn’t wanna go with Danielle to replace it.”

“What name did you land on?” Ford asked. Stan grinned.

“Molly. Sure, it won’t match her sisters’ names, but we both like it.”

“A cute name,” Fiddleford agreed. He looked around the hospital room. “Now, where are-” He caught sight of the three hospital cribs lined up next to Angie’s bed. “Never mind, found ‘em.” Fiddleford approached the cribs and began to coo over the infants. Ford turned to Stan.

“What you were worried about-” he started. Stan shook his head.

“Seems like I shouldn’t have bothered worrying. Angie took a good long smell of all three of ‘em right away. Two are werewolves, one is human.”

“One is human?” Ford rubbed his chin. “That doesn’t seem possible. Then again, you having biological children didn’t seem possible, either.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you didn’t think I could knock Angie up,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “But now that my kids are actually born, cut it out, will ya? It’s pretty obvious they’re mine.”

“I’ll make my own conclusion about that,” Ford replied. He walked over to the cribs. “…Yes, these are clearly your children.”

“Told you.” Stan joined Fiddleford and Ford by the cribs.

“Which one is which, and which order were they born?” Fiddleford asked eagerly.

“That one’s Molly,” Stan said, pointing to the crib closest to Angie’s bed. The infant inside was awake, staring at the room with wide blue eyes. “Molly Gertrude Pines. She’s the oldest. And also she’s a werewolf, according to Angie.”

“This one’s got the McGucket nose,” Fiddleford crooned, smiling fondly at the crib closest to him.

“Yeah, that one’s Daisy Leigh McGucket. Youngest. And a werewolf.”

“And the middle child?” Ford asked.

“Danica Viola Pines. Human.” Stan grinned. “That’s fine by me. We can keep each other company on full moons.”

“That’s true,” Fiddleford said with a smile. Stan looked over at the door furtively.

“Uh, by the way, did either of you bring any A positive with you?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Ford said. He nodded at Fiddleford, who removed a thermos from the bag he was carrying. Stan took it gratefully.

“Thanks. Not the best optics to get caught stealing blood from a hospital.”

“You’ve done it before,” Ford said, crossing his arms.

“Yeah. In towns I was gonna skip the next day. But my kids and my wife and I are here for the long haul. I don’t wanna fuck things up.”

“Stanford, don’t get on his case when he’s actually followin’ the law,” Fiddleford scolded. “He’s doin’ the right thing and yer givin’ him grief?”

“I wasn’t-” Ford started. Stan grinned.

“Yeah, Ford, don’t give me grief for doing the right thing.”

“Hmph.” Ford rolled his eyes and looked back down at the cribs. “I’m surprised you haven’t picked one up yet, Fiddleford.”

“I was waitin’ fer permission,” Fiddleford replied. Stan waved a hand.

“Oh, yeah, go for it. Just try not to pick one up that’s sleeping. Apparently you’re not supposed to wake up sleeping babies or something like that.”

“Nope, that’s correct, let ‘em sleep,” Fiddleford said. He reached into Molly’s crib. Angie let out a low growl. Ford and Fiddleford spun around to stare at her. She was still seemingly fast asleep. “Um…”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. She heals fast, but even she is gonna need a couple hours to recuperate after giving birth to triplets.” Stan grimaced. “It was definitely something you need to rest after. And the nurse said that everything went well. I don’t wanna know what it looks like when things don’t go well.”

“…Why should that make us not worry about holding our nieces?” Ford asked.

“Well, she can’t get out of bed and attack you yet. Just stay outta reach and you should be fine.”

“Maybe I’ll hold off on holdin’ my new niece,” Fiddleford said. “Until Angie’s calmed down a bit. If she’s growlin’ at us in her sleep…”

“It’s probably fine,” Stan said. “Here.” He took Daisy from her crib. Angie was silent. “See?” He started to hand her over to Fiddleford. Angie growled again. “Huh. Weird.”

“You are her mate,” Ford pointed out. “She won’t have a problem with you handling the children.”

“You guys are family, too, though,” Stan argued. Angie rolled over, snoring loudly. “C’mon, Fiddlenerd. I know you wanna hold her.”

“Yer right. I do.” Fiddleford took Daisy from Stan. He beamed down at his niece. “Hey there, cutie. Gosh, you’ve got such big blue eyes. Such curly hair. Yer a gorgeous lil one, aren’t ya- hey!”

“What?” Ford asked. Fiddleford looked up.

“She nipped me.”

“She doesn’t have teeth,” Stan said.

“That’s why it didn’t hurt. But she definitely bit down on my finger.” Fiddleford stroked Daisy’s hair. “Somethin’ wrong, honey? I’ve never met a baby what bit so soon after being born.” Daisy began to fuss loudly. “Oh, dear.”

“Here, lemme take her,” Stan instructed. Fiddleford handed Daisy over. Daisy immediately calmed down. “What’s the matter, kiddo?” Stan asked softly. “You pissed at your uncle? I get it, he ticks me off, too.” Ford smiled. “And I guess I shoulda expected you to bite. I mean. Your dad is a vampire and your mom is a werewolf, so.” Stan beamed in pride. “You really take after your old man, huh? Want me to teach you how to box? Yeah, I’ll do that. You’ll be the best damn boxer since Muhammad Ali.”

“That’s so sweet,” Fiddleford whispered to Ford. Ford nodded.

“He’s going to be quite the father,” Ford replied softly. There was a small chuckle from the hospital bed. Fiddleford and Ford looked over. Angie had woken up. She was fondly watching Stan interact with Daisy.

“Yer wrong,” Angie said. “He’s not goin’ to be quite the father. He already is.”

#it's sappy but idc I wanted some sappy #I'm always a sucker for sappy dad!Stan #Werepire Stangie AU #Stangie Family #Stangie #Fiddleford McGucket #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

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zazikels · 6 years ago

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I was tagged by @denerim, thank you sophia! 💚 Tagging: @athurmorgan, @shepplo, @rosewaterhag, @vecna, @ladyennefers & @anariettas , but no pressure as always. RULES: (I’m just gonna do this the way you did) bold what always applies, italicise what applies on occasion.

Caerylin x Ayrenn

Vincent x Viola

Alexander x Anora

#oc stuff #tagged*#long post #otp: sweetness & danger #otp: with you at my side #otp: a favourable arrangement #oc: caerylin #oc: vincent #oc: alexander cousland #((caerylin is bi that's why he's tagged with lgbt+))#also like.......the love triangle is not a love triangle at all rly bc ughh #he was upfront with anora abt morrigan and they started out as friends & allies who grew to love each other.#also idk what bioware is gonna do w/ morrigan anyway but the point is there's no cheating & i just live in a world where both have their aus #(it's.......not particularly drama filled or messy is what i wanna say).#also tungl flagged this IMMEDIATELY for like.......a picture with legs. absolutely fabulous.

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creative-type · 6 years ago

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The Murder of Arthur Wright XI

First Previous AO3

Chapter Eleven: Bad Business

The walk to Fernando’s office was just long enough for Margot to thoroughly berate herself. She tried to keep her expression calm, but Cain’s betrayal cut deep. Margot knew not to trust him on blind faith, but they had been so busy there had been little time to do anything other than verify he was a licensed detective. Margot had allowed herself to be drawn by his affable manner and had forgotten they hadn’t even known one another a week.

Had it all been an act? When Margot thought about it, it seemed that Cain was accustomed to wearing different hats as the need arose. She remembered how he had manipulated Felix Wright into hiring him in the first place, and how different he seemed prior to their meeting with Anansi.

Reputation is a man’s greatest and most fragile mask. Look behind it at your own risk.

It seemed like it had been an age since Anansi dispersed those words of wisdom. Of course they had been referring to Felix Wright at the time, but Margot got the feeling like she was finally getting a glimpse past the façade Cain tried so hard to maintain.

And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

There was danger following him any further. Margot was confident in her ability to fight her way out of any situation, but that was nothing compared to the damage that would be done if someone recognized her. While the Academy’s good conduct policy didn’t specifically forbid professors from going into private meetings with known mobsters, she suspected that the Board of Directors would be none too pleased if they learned of her actions thus far.

It wasn’t funny, but Margot almost laughed anyway. Being fired was the least of her worries. This was the second time Cain had gotten her involved with the Casettis without her knowledge of consent. Already she had a known hitman talking about her with a bookie of what was likely an illegal gambling operation.

“This way,” Tony said, leading them away from the cheering crowd to an office complex. It looked…deceptively normal. The dwarves were all in good spirits, making small talk with Cain and joking with one another. Though it was starting to get late, the sun still shone brightly in the sky. There was nothing dirty or off-putting, nothing shady that would tip off it was a center for criminal activity.

Finally Tony came to a stop and rapped his knuckles against the doorway. Like the restaurant that started this whole mess there were two entrances, one meant for dwarves and another for so-called big folk. There was no answer, and he knocked again.

“Open up, Fernando. You’ve got visitors.”

There were a few moments of silence before the door opened, revealing a silver-haired dwarf. He scowled at Tony before canting his neck up to Cain. Between a pair of dark glasses and bushy beard covering his mouth it was difficult to make out his expression. Margot supposed the glasses would almost be a necessity to keep from being blinded by the heavy rings he wore on nearly every finger. When he stroked his beard the sun glittered off of jeweled cufflinks, and it wouldn’t have surprised Margot if the chain of his pocket watch was made of gold.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.

“What kind of greeting is that, Fernando?” Cain asked. “Can’t a guy come around for old time’s sake?”

The dwarf removed his glasses and cleaned them slowly with a kerchief. “Uh huh, I suppose not, but last time we talked you didn’t seem too keen on coming back.” His eyes shifted to Margot. “You brought a lady here? What kind of gentleman brings a lady into his business?”

“She’s the professor Viola was talkin’ about,” Tony said. “The one who fought the drath.”

“The one who saw Master Wright die,” Fernando said. There was something about his tone, the ease in which he said it, that put Margot on edge. He sighed, and returned his glasses back to their proper place. “I suppose you better come in.”

Margot and Cain entered through the appropriate door as Fernando directed Tony and his men to wait for them outside. The office was fastidiously tidy, with each quill and book in place. Fernando ambled behind his desk and clapped his hands. Two chairs, made to seat dwarves, sprung up in size.

“Handy spell, that,” Fernando said as they took a seat. “Enchanted by a guy on Twelfth Boulevard. He does great work.”

“Only the best for you, Fernando,” Cain said.

“Cut the *$!!@&#*, Cain,” Fernando said. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey now, no need to be hostile—“

“And what you doing, bringing a professor from Kemptson here?” Fernando said. There was dry hoarseness to his voice that reminded Margot of a tomb. “The Wizard may be gone, but her type don’t belong here. You should know that, and if you don’t someone otta be teaching you a lesson.”

Cain frowned, and reached for a stick of jerky. His expression was passive as stone, but Margot could see the sweat beading on his forehead. She slid her gaze back to Fernando.

Despite his diminutive size, there was no doubt who was in control of the room. If the jewels weren’t already a tipoff, it would have been impossible for Margot to mistake him for a mere bookie. The dwarf wielded menace like a weapon, and they were in his territory, playing by his rules.

Silently cursing Cain’s recklessness, Margot said, “I am sitting here, you know. It might help if you give us a chance to explain ourselves.”

Fernando’s moustache twitched. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her as if she were a bit of mud he had forgotten to scrape off his shoe. “Alright Professor, I’ll bite. Why in the nine hells are you here?”

“I need to talk with Felix Wright,” Cain said. “If he’s here, I thought it better to let you know before causing a scene at your establishment. You know, as a professional curtesy.”

“And if he’s not you figured I would know where to find him,” Fernando finished for him. He leaned on his elbows, the deep furrow remaining between his brows. “And what makes you think I waste my time looking after Felix Wright?”

“Viola said your Father knew him,” Cain said with a shrug. “Figured you were in business together.”

Fernando let out a harsh bark of a laugh. “As if I’d waste my time. Give him a century or two and he might be worth the effort, but I don’t deal in uncut gemstones. Brilliant mind, but without the common sense the gods bestowed on a common pudding.”

“But you know where he is?” Cain prompted.

“Comes in often enough, braying like the ass he is.” Fernando seemed to have come to the decision that they were not a threat. He reached under his desk and pulled out a bottle of spirits and three tumblers. “Can I tempt you? You won’t find better anywhere in the country.”

“No, thank you,”

“Naw.”

“Suit yourself.” Fernando poured himself a drink and took a bracing sip. “You still haven’t answered my question, Cain: What’s the deal with the professor?”

“Professor Margot is just a consultant for a case,” Cain said.

“And what case would that be?”

Fernando set his tumbler down and laced his fingers together. The intensity returned to his gaze, hidden as it was behind dark glasses, heavy and nearly overwhelming. He moved the ring on his left thumb a quarter turn, and the hair on the back of Margot’s neck prickled. Magic.

Margot called on her power, ready to activate the charms in her skirts, when Cain raised a hand to stop her.

“I just want to talk to Mr. Wright,” he said calmly. “I think you’ll find it mutually beneficial.”

The dwarf rested his hands on his desk. “Yeah?”

“If nothing else I can get him out of your beard for a day or two.” Cain said.

“That’s not good enough, Cain,” Fernando said.

Margot suddenly remembered a story one of her instructors told her years ago of a snake he’d come across while traveling. Before biting it would always shake a rattle on its tail. Fernando was like that rattlesnake, his words equal parts warning and threat.

“I’ve heard whispers, boy,” he continued. “You’ve been sniffing around where you don’t belong. You better be careful were you stick your nose. One of these days it’s gonna get cut off.”

Cain’s grin returned, wolf-like to Fernando’s snake. “It’s a good thing I just want to talk to Wright junior then, isn’t it? Hells bells, I’ll even stay on premises if you’re that jumpy.” He leaned forward as if sharing some conspiracy and stage whispered, “It’s almost as if you got something to hide.”

Fernando’s lip turned down in a silent snarl, flashing a glimpse of a golden tooth. “Tony!”

The door opened immediately. “Yeah boss?”

“Find the elf and bring him here. He was in the luxury box last I saw.” He whirled back to Cain, pointing one meaty finger at his chest. “And you get out of my sight. I’ll overlook your insolence this once. But you’d do well to remember, Cain, you get away with a lot as a friend of the Family, but you ain’t Family.”

“What in the world is going on here?”

Cain shook his head slightly, and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Not here, Prof.”

They were waiting outside of Fernando’s office, still watched by Tony’s goons. A glare from Margot was enough for them to back a respectful distance away, but there were undoubtedly surveillance spells marking their every move. Margot had already spotted two All-Seeing Eyes, only partially hidden by the natural shadows of the building. Who knew what else was watching them.

“Fine, but when this is over you owe me.”

“Fair enough.” The corner of his mouth twitched…was that in regret? Or frustration? “And I know it probably doesn’t mean anything, but I am sorry.”

Margot grunted. “You better be.”

Margot was more than content to give him the cold shoulder—perhaps literally, depending on how this turned out—but the stony silence only lasted between them a moment or two before she heard Felix complaining loudly.

“I’ve paid my debts, dwarf! You have no right to bring me here. I had twenty gold riding on that race! Unhand me, you scoundrel! Unhand me at once—“ His voice shriveled into a strangled croak when he finally saw Cain and Margot.

“You!”

“Us,” Cain said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and offered his friendliest smile. “Time to go home, Wright. Your wife’s waiting in my office.”

“Isabella?” Felix’s eyebrows drew together, a slur in his voice making it sound more like Izbell. His eyes were bloodshot, and Margot wondered if he was drunk or merely sleep deprived.

Margot had run out of patience either way. With a flick of her wrist she gathered a handful of water, drawing away enough heat to make it just the right side of freezing, and flung it at his face.

Felix yelped and strung together a string of Elvish curses, a few Margot recognized from her time with Lyra. It was hardly the sort of language a gentleman would use. Margot crossed her arms across her chest, unimpressed.

The scientist in her noted the dark bags under his eyes, the frumpled state of his clothes, the messy disarray of his hair with clinical detachment. The man who stood before her was nearly unrecognizable from the one she met at the mage’s conference, a mere shadow of the confident, charming man who was the face of his father’s research.

Her heart softened just a little. Estranged or not Felix had just lost his father, and people dealt with grief in different ways.

That iota of sympathy vanished when, still in Elvish, he suggested her mother had had inappropriate relations with an orc, which even if true would not have been something for Margot to be ashamed of, and she doused him a second time.

That sobered him enough to shut his mouth, and Cain shook his head. “You deserved that one, Wright. Now let’s get you home.”

Isabella was still waiting for them when they returned, which surprised Margot. She scrambled to her feet at the sight of them, her entire attention immediately drawn to her husband. The color left her cheeks, and her already-enormous eyes grew even wider as she covered her mouth with horror.

Stuck between Margot and Cain, Felix looked like a rat caught between a trap and a hungry cat. He swallowed hard, his expression crumpling with shame. “Isabella, I can explain…”

“I’m just happy you’re safe.”

Felix tried to meet his wife’s earnest expression, but was unable to.

“I know you’re eager to get him home, Mrs. Wright, but do you mind if I have a word with your husband?” Cain asked. “I private?”

Isabella looked very much like she wanted to refuse, but Cain didn’t give her the chance, half leading, half dragging Felix Wright but the collar into his office. Margot followed, and as soon as the door clicked behind them Cain traced a sigil that would prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

It was the first spell Margot had seen him perform halfway competently, and that made her think that he was forced to use it often.

“What do you want with me?” Felix muttered as he slunk into his seat. “Have you found Desdemona yet?”

Cain took his time in answering. He drew a stick of jerky out of his pocket, but didn’t put it in his mouth. His expression was hard. “Not as of yet, no. But there were some things I wanted clear up that would be a real help.”

“Well get on with it,” Felix said irritably.

“Alright then, I’ll cut right to the chase: Where did you go after Anansi’s play?”

Felix jerked spastically and threw himself to his feet. “What do you mean where did I go? I told you, I waited for my father—“

“And you lied,” Cain said calmly. “Again.”

For a moment Felix was speechless. His eyes bulged, his lips working wordlessly as he tried to speak but couldn’t. His arms went limp by his sides, and he fell back into the chair. “You think I did it.”

Felix laughed. It started as a disbelieving chuckle and grew in volume and intensity until his whole body was shaking with it. The more he tried to stop himself the louder it got, until he was howling hysterically. At that moment Felix Wright seemed less than sane, and Margot was grateful his wife wasn’t present.

“You…you th-think I did it!” Felix managed between halting breaths. “Me! Kill my own father, when he was about to make me more money than your plebeian minds can imagine.”

“Did you hear that, Cain, we’re plebeians now,” Margot drawled.

“Uh huh.” Cain started chewing on his jerky stick. “Mr. Wright, I’m not accusing you of anything, but it is imperative that we know the truth.”

“It seems to me that you already know the truth,” Felix said.

“Not from the horse’s mouth.”

“I’m beginning to think my faith in you was misplaced, Mr. Cain.”

“Please, Mr. Wright. Every little bit helps.”

Felix snorted disbelievingly. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He straightened himself in an attempt to appear proper, but the affect was undercut by the fact he was still a wet, sopping mess.

“Everything I told you about that illusionist’s performance was the honest-to-gods truth. Father went to confront him, and I went…out.”

“Where,” Cain interrupted sharply.

Felix’s mouth pulled down into a snarl, and he clenched his hands into fists. “I had just seen my sister come back from the dead. It…shook me. I needed some fresh air to clear my head. I took a walk around, and ended up at a tavern a few streets over. I stopped in for a drink.”

He looked up at Cain, and for a moment he looked vulnerable and lost. “I hadn’t gotten drunk since before my sons were born. I swore I never would again, but I just wanted to forget everything I saw. To pretend that it never happened. Some lads at the tavern started a game of cards, which turned to another and another, and before I knew it was two in the morning.”

“I don’t remember making it back to the hotel, but I must have,” Felix said, slumping back into his seat. “Father was furious, of course. We argued, but nothing we hadn’t argued over before, and I was in bed by three.”

“And your father?” Cain asked.

Felix shrugged. “He was still scribbling away in his little notebook. I don’t know if he slept at all. You remember, Professor, how distracted he was when I introduced you? It wasn’t like him to forget like that.”

“What exactly did you quarrel over, Mr. Wright?” Cain said.

Felix’s expression hardened. “What you must understand, Mr. Cain, is that my father cared only for his legacy. He could have stayed on at the University with a state of the art research lab and all the assistants he could have dreamed of and finished his research in half the time, but he insisted on doing everything alone. Or as alone as he possibly could. If he could have avoided working with me he would have, but he couldn’t, and I think he resented it.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, he wrote me for help developing some of his contingency spells,” Margot said.

“Ah, but it was his idea to write you, was it not?” Felix said. “And his idea to integrate your ideas into his research. And really, with all the contingencies he had already put into his device the spellwork you contributed was largely superfluous.”

“That didn’t stop it from blowing up,” Margot said.

“No, it didn’t.” Felix got to his feet, swaying slightly. “Now if you excuse me, my wife is waiting.”

“I may need to call on you another time,” Cain said.

“I pray to any god that cares to listen that won’t be necessary, but if it is you know where to find me.”

“Just one moment,” Margot said sharply. “I get what you were doing the night before the conference, but what about today? You wife was worried sick about you.”

“That’s none of your concern, Professor. Now kindly move aside.”

Margot stared down Felix Wright, and did not budge from the door. “What’s your connection with the Casettis?”

“Professor, let the man leave,” Cain said quietly.

“Do you realize what kind of damage Master Wright’s research could do if it got into those hands?” Margot asked. “Do either of you realize?”

“So first I’m a murderer, and now I’m in the pocket of a mob family,” Felix said scathingly. “Cain, have this woman step aside, or I swear I will move her myself.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“My business is my own,” Felix said, his voice icy cold. There was a look in his eye that was eerily reminiscent of his mother at her most imposing. Still Margot did not move. She needed answers, and she knew that Felix had them.

For a split second Margot thought Felix would attempt to hit her, but with visible effort he gathered himself back under control, and a terrible grin spread across his face. “You’re fired.”

“Excuse me?”

Margot couldn’t tell if she had said the words or Cain. Perhaps they had both spoken, but regardless of which of them spoke Felix’s gaze never left hers.

“I said you’re fired. A man knows when it’s best to cut his losses, and it’s obvious that you two are of no help to me.”

“Mr. Wright, please, I know today’s been a difficult day for you. Maybe once you get some rest—“

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Cain,” Felix said, his voice deadly calm. “I’m thinking more clearly now than I have since my father’s death. I gave you one simple task, and that was to find Desdemona and prove her guilt, and all you’ve done is upset my mother at my father’s funeral, distress my wife, and accuse me of murder. I put too much stock into the Westmacott name to see you for what you truly are: a fraud.”

“But your father’s death…”

“I don’t care about my father’s death,” Felix said. “In fact, the more time that passes the more I realize how little I care at all. So what if he was murdered? That changes nothing except I no longer have to suffer his hubris. My business is my own, and I’m more than capable of standing on my own two feet.”

This time when he moved for the door Margot stepped aside. His wife stood waiting, pale and worried. He didn’t spare her even a look as he brushed her aside. “Come along, Isabella. We’re going home.”

Isabella looked from her husband to Cain, eyes full of questions she dare not ask. As Felix put on his hat and coat she pressed a small pouch of coins into Cain’s hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “His father always did bring out the worst of him.”

#creative-type writes #The Murder of Arthur Wright #daughter of the lilies #dotl fanfiction #margot

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