#we’re speed running meeting up with all our friends before we head back to london on sunday

[crescenthistory]

gay people are so funny because why did my best friend just tell me he’s got the hots for a guy he just started playing dnd with because his worldbuilding document was so thorough and detailed???

[technowoah]

Wait imagine a fic where Jack and the reader are long distance or something and when Tubbo and Tommy are doing the man hunt irl the reader surprises Jack.

That would be cute I think 🤔

Just One Livestream

You surprise Jack with a spontaneous visit to the UK, little did you know that they were livestreaming.

- Jack Manifold x gen neutral!reader

- Anon Requested!

⚠︎ swearing, fluff!, not proofread

an// I hope yall enjoy! Much love! And sorry it came out so late I have no inspiration rn but imma get it done! Also I used the difference of American hours to London hours so sorry of

Navigation!

"Love, why are you up early?" Jack asked through the phone.

You two were facetiming eachother as he propped his phone up on his dashboard while he started to drive. It was around 1 am for you and 6 am for Jack. Sadly you two were in a long distance relationship. You had met Jack when you were on a college trip to London to study abroad for 3 weeks. You were sad that you had to leave your home country, but this was a opportunity you couldn't oppose.

During this trip you had found a cafe that you would go to often. The first time you sat at the cafe alone you always noticed it was only you and this other man in the cafe. He was always on his computer and sat by a window, he always came early too, even earlier than you. As the days went on you continued to see him around more and he seemed to notice you as well. You made a note to yourself to always try and show up a tad bit earlier to the cafe to stay around the same time as he did.

You two got to know eachother throughout the three weeks you had to stay in London. The small nods became hellos, and the hellos turned into full on conversation by the window. He had told you his name was Jack Manifold and was kind of surprised when you didn't immediately know who he was. To him it was refreshing not to be immediately noticed based on his appearance. You both had exchanged numbers one day and after each morning you two would text non stop even during your classes. Luckily trying to get to know Jack changed your sleep schedule and because of that you always made it to class on time.

Jack was such an amazing guy to you, but during the first week you had developed a small crush on the man, and he had developed a crush on you too. The second week you two had ventured out onto different territory than the cafe. Jack started to call those small outings after class, dates and you weren't opposed to the dates at all you loved them. The second and third week were mostly dates and the night before you left he asked to be your boyfriend and of course you accepted not knowing the pain of a long distance relationship.

You had to answer his question on why you were up so early. "Yeah- Um, Im up because of you." You chuckled. "You changed my sleep schedule ever since I met you."

"Well you're welcome, because before me I heard you were missing classes." Jack payed attention to the road but still talked to you.

"Because I told you! And I am grateful, but there is nothing to do at one am here." You sighed while you started to walk around your room as you lied to him.

Jack was talking to you while you did a clean sweep around your house to check if you had everything for your trip.

Two weeks ago you had decided to pack your bags and take a trip back to London. Right now your flight will be leaving early in the morning and that's why you are up so early.

You wanted to surprise Jack instead of straight up telling him that you will be in the country. You missed him dearly, and this will be a great way to spend time together instead of seeing eachother across a screen. One of you had to make that sacrafice and that would be you.

While Jack continued to talk you checked everywhere to make sure you arent leaving anything behind.

"What are you doing, darling?" Jack asked and that snapped you out of your trance. "Are you even listening to me? Im hurt." Jack faked being hurt.

You smiled at him and shook your head. "Im sorry I wasn't listening. What were you saying?"

"I was saying, when you were ignoring me, that I'm going to the cafe right now and that we should plan a trip soon. I miss you." Jack confessed and you awed.

"I miss you too Jack! I hopw we can see each other soon." You tried to contain your smile as you hid your surprise.

"Me too."

Your plane finally landed as you let out a sigh of relief. You had collected all of your shit fast so you could finally get off of that horrible plane. Every stereotypical airplane scene happened to you in the hours you were on that plane. You had a child crying behind you with a mother who couldn't keep that child calm, you were sat next to a man who snored the whole ride here and you just felt cramped.

Sadly you couldn't return any of Jack's messages or calls that you saw when you were in the airplane terminal. You tried calling him twice but they both went to voicemail while you rolled your bag through the huge building. Finding yourself outside you ordered an Uber and once you did that your phone began to ring showing Jack's name and picture of you two together on the screen.

You quickly answered the phone. "Hey!"

"Hi!" Jack chuckled. "I called like, 17 times!"

"I know! Im sorry. I was busy." You weren't lying getting a plane and basically leaving early in the morning and arriving in the afternoon in London. "So, what are you doing today?"

"I am hanging out with Tommy and Tubbo at the park! Im picking them up now!" Jack responded and you heard him close his car door.

"Which park?" You asked quickly as you saw your Uber arrive.

Jack started to laugh. "Uh I'll text you the park I guess. Why would you want to know?"

"No reason! I just want to make sure you are safe. Dont make me call 999." You tried to joke around and take the attention off of your question.

"I cant believe you still remember 999." Jack laughed.

"I still do!" You said as you got inside your Uber and gave the driver the directions to your hotel forgetting that Jack was on the other line.

"Wait hotel?" Jack questioned through the phone.

"Hotel? What are you talking about?" You acted oblivious.

"I- I thought you were talking about a hotel." Jack hesitated.

"No!" You tried to cover up your mistake.

"Well Im going to pick up Tommy soon. I'll talk to you later okay? Answer my calls this time!" Jack chuckled.

"I definitely will!"

You had recived the name of the park you were surprising Jack at. You began to walk around the parking lot after you got dropped off and noticed his car sitting there. There were tons of people at the park today and you didn't know where he would be. As you walked on the dirt trails of the park your thoughts took over, what if you made a mistake and should've told Jack that you were here in London and wanted to meet up at the cafe?

You looked at people as they passed by you ok the trail wishing that you had that energy that you had before, thinking that you would find Jack easily when in reality you were in a busy part of the park and he could be anywhere.

When you thought all hope was lost you heard some loud voices on the trail to your right. You were already walking aimlessly through the park and your first instinct was to go left and walk away from the loud voices, but then you heard something.

"Tommy this was a bad idea!"

"I dont think it was!"

You stood in the "intersection" of the dirt trails thinking that you heard those voices right. You rounded the corner and followed right to see Tommy and Jack doubled over, out of breath while Tubbo was still standing up breathing heavily. There were far away from you, but not far away that you couldn't see them clearly.

You began to call out to them. "Tommy! Jack! Tub-"

They quickly turned around and took off running. Confused on why they were doing that you took off running after them trying to tell them to stop. They were yelling and you were yelling and getting weird glances from stangers, and you dont blame them. You're chasing after your boyfriend and his two friends in a quiet public park. You continued to hear their groans of tiredness and their speed started to slow down.

"Jack! Tommy! Wait up!" You yelled out of breath as you slowed down as well.

"We give up! We give up!" Tubbo yelled and came to a complete stop while trying to catch his breath. He turned around to finally face you. "Y/N?!"

"Wait what?!"

"You're here?!" Jack ran up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, rocking you two back and forth.

"I am! And Im our of breath thanks to you three." You said while still hugging Jack.

"M'sorry I thought you were a fan and I took off and they followed suit I guess." Tommy rubbed his forehead.

"A fan?" You questioned and Tommy and Tubbo lifted their phones up gesturing that they were recording.

"We're doing manhunt in real life, darling." Jack kissed your temple and wrapped his arn around your waist, holding you tight.

"Next time look before you run okay." You smiled still out of breath while kissing Jack's cheek.

"Enough with the PDA!" Tubbo yelled still recording you two.

"We havent even started!" Jack yelled back giving you a huge hug. Jack closed the distance between you two and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips while the two boys groaned in disgust.

"I think that's enough streaming for today boys." Tommy sighed.

"Sorry again, love. That won't happen again."

You and Jack walked hand in hand down the streets of London. People had to walk around you two because you were basically taking up the whole sidewalk and you weren't letting go of his hand anytime soon.

"It better not! I dont want to run after you again." You smiled as you bumped shoulders.

"And you wont have to!" He smiled back at you as you two continued to walk and people dodged the two of you.

"Have you ever thought of moving here?" Jack asked out of nowhere.

"I have actually! On the plane ride here I thought of leaving and moving to London." You thought about it constantly. It was nice being close to Jack and it was a major risk.

"Well wherever you're ready, I'll be here for you." Jack kissed your cheek. "And I wont run away when you come here!"

You two finally made it to your destination which was the cafe you two met at. It was busy at this time because it was the middle of the day and not the beginning. You two entered and took your seats by the window where you two usually sat.

"I love you. I missed this." Jack said.

"I love you too! And of course I missed this. Maybe you can show me more places around London and convince me to stay longer." You gave him a proposal.

"Longer than what?" Jack asked.

"Four weeks." You grinned.

Jack grabbed both of your hands and kissed the back of them. "Hell yeah. I get you for more than four weeks?!"

"That's if you show me places to stay longer." You teased.

"Okay babe. You like ferris wheels?"

[omgsquee2001]

You Have My Blessing: Part 1

Part 1: First Meet

//Warnings: Mentions of A!DS//

~~~

When he first got the news, he was beyond excited. He had gotten the part of John Richard Deacon for the new Bio-Pic, Bohemian Rhapsody. The movie was all about the rise of Queen as well as some of the hardships that the band’s Front Man, Freddie Mercury went through. Miraculous enough, when Freddie found out he had gotten AIDS, he had been able to get treatment for it and the treatment was successful. Now, he was still touring with Queen. All four members were still rocking out in their 70′s. 

~~~~

“Okay guys!” Brian Singer, the director of Bohemian Rhapsody shouted, getting everyone’s attention. It had been a few weeks since the cast of the movie had arrived in London to film. Joe was beyond excited to learn that he would be acting, once again, with one of his best friends, Rami Malek, who was playing the man himself, Freddie Mercury. “We’re going to be having the actual band Queen coming in about an hour. We are also going to be having a photoshoot of Rami, Ben, Gwil and Joe in their costumes for Live Aid. So, actors, please start heading towards makeup, hair and costumes!” Brian shouted. The cast and crew gave their cries of thanks for the announcement and everyone started working at twice the speed they had been. Since Rami was playing Freddie, he was the first to get into costume and makeup since he also had to wear false teeth to get the overbite that Freddie has. After getting in costume and makeup, the four actors made their way to the fake stage of Wembley Stadium. There was the sound of five car doors shutting and the legends themselves walked out and stopped dead. They stared in aw at the stage that had been built by hand. 

“Holy shit,” Freddie muttered, running a hand over his face, wrinkled by age. A woman with [h/l] [h/c] hair was standing between John and Freddie. She chuckled at the legend’s reaction. 

“Does it look identical, Papa?” She asked. Freddie gave a breathless laugh of amazement. 

“I-it looks just like the stage from all those years ago.” He said softly. The woman smiled softly. She looked at her grandfather and their uncles. She could tell that they had all been transported to that day; July 13, 1985. She moved to stand in between her two uncles, gaining the attention of the older rock stars. She linked her arms with Brian and Roger’s. 

“Well, shall we go and meet the younger you’s?” She asked. Roger and Brian chuckled at the young woman’s energy. Roger affectionately patted their hand. 

“Yes. Let’s go and meet our younger selves. Shall we, lads?” Roger asked, looking at his friends. Freddie’s aw-struck expression then turned to one of mischief. 

“Yes. I look forward to giving those young lads a scare.” He said. The woman chuckled and shook her head. 

“Papa Freddie, behave.” She chided playfully. Freddie scoffed playfully. 

“Oh, always, darling.” 

~~~

Butterflies filled Joe’s stomach as the four aging Queens ascended the stairs to the stage, ready to assess how accurate the actors and costumes were to themselves. Joe’s breath was caught in his throat when he saw a beautiful woman, her arms linked with Brian and Roger’s. He assumed that she was one of the rock stars’ grandchildren. The woman’s jaw fell open when she saw the four actors lined up. 

“Oh my gosh. You all look, identical to Papa, Uncle Roger, Uncle Bri and Grandad.” She said astounded. She made her way down the line, assessing the boys. She had some criticisms with Roger’s actor, seeing as he didn’t have the short hair he did during Live Aid, but she knew it wasn’t his fault. She stopped in front of Joe. “Especially you,” she said. Joe swallowed nervously. 

“Um, me, miss?” He asked. The woman smiled and nodded. 

“Yes you, silly. You look a lot like Grandad did when he was at Live Aid. The hair and everything,” she said. She then gasped and chuckled, her cheeks flushing. “Sorry, where are my manners,” she stood back and addressed the actors before them. “I’m [Y/N] [M/N] Deacon. Granddaughter of John Richard Deacon.” She introduced. Joe smiled. [Y/N] [M/N] Deacon. What a woman. 

//okay. So I know I said I would try and keep it Gender neutral, however it’s pretty difficult for me to do that. I’m so used to making the reader in series and imagines I write Female. I want to make this clear. This does not, under any circumstances mean that I have anything against the non-binary community. It is just a little bit harder for me to make the reader in imagines and series that I write gender neutral. I hope that you understand and continue to give this series love regardless. I’m not trying to force anyone to do anything, it just brings my confidence up when I see that my imagines and series are getting love despite the fact that the reader in the writing isn’t gender neutral.//

~~~

Here’s the first part of the “You Have My Blessing” Series with Joe. I hope you all like it. 

[xxxtrouvaillexxx]

Let’s Strike a Deal

A/N: This is late, I know. If you have not realized from before, I’m really bad at meeting deadlines. Well, at least deadlines that I’ve created for myself to follow because I like to procrastinate things and frankly… what am I gonna do to myself? Band myself from tea until I’ve written a chapter? I don’t have the self control for that! And life is hectic. But you know, enough with my excuses and onto the story. Hope you enjoy. I always love feedback so please be sure to leave a comment! ALSO I wanted to give a TRY (key word) to first person. If I don’t like it... I might change it, idk. I should never write anything at 3am as per evidence below, especially without editing lmao

Pair: CEO!Tom x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the small town of Hawkshead girl trying to make her way in the big city of Westminster, London. Not as easy as she thought. When things start to take a turn for the worst one afternoon and only one man in the crowd of hundreds decides to help her, she does something rather uncharacteristic and gives her savor her number in case he could ever use help of his own. Course, she never expected for him to actually call her out on it.

Masterlist

Warning(s): none… yet. Cursing?

Word Count:

My time was limited. There was nothing left that had to be done here or anything left to pack. Everything I’ve ever owned sat in a car on the way to my new apartment and last of the suitcases were in the bed of my brothers pickup at this very moment while I sat on the floor of my room. There wasn’t anything left for me here, I knew that, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to the place that carried so many of my favorite memories and the imprints of my childhood that still were splayed around the surrounding room.

There were two dents in the wall right in front of me from when I was ten and hit my head after tripping on one of my toys, thumbtack holes that littered everywhere above the bed from forts that I would make with my brothers and friends, nail polish that was spilled on the carpet from times when I was too distracted with talking than keeping the bottle up straight, my engraved initials on the windowsill. The memories that I had made in this room were countless and they were all absolutely priceless.

“Y/N!” I heard your mother call from the living room, her voice was slightly hoarse from held back emotion and it broke my heart to hear her like that. “You got to get going, dear! You’ll miss your train if you wait much longer to head out.”

Taking a deep breath and slowly standing from the, now old, bed I made my way toward the door, feet dredging behind me and scuffing the floor as I walked out. “I know, Mama. I’m just-” the words caught in my throat and I was at a loss. “I’m really going to miss you guys so much.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep on like that,” She said giving a tight hug before pushing me out the front door. “You are going to love it in London so much you’re not even gonna be thinking about us here, so get goin’. Your brothers already waiting for you in the car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I love you Mama! I’ll call you when I get there!”

Jumping into the passenger seat of the truck, I waved final goodbyes from the window, dramatically blowing kisses as the car started to drive away.

“You better!” She exclaimed, watching as we pulled out and down the road.

“She is going to be a mess when I get back home. I can’t believe you’re going to leave me to deal with that alone!” Christian, stuck driving you to the train station much to his dismay, gave you a mocking glare. “After all the things I’ve done for your, this is how you choose to repay me? I’m pretty sure I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Ahhh~” I cooed and smiled, “You’re only saying that cause you know you guys’ are going to be missing me so much!”

“Miss you?” He scoffed, “Yeah right. What we’re going to be missing is your baking. It’ll be the greatest blow our family has faced since 1824.”

I gave a scathing look, “And what, if I may ask, happened in 1824?”

“Don’t know, but something bad probably.”

»»-——————————————-««

I have never been so sore getting off of a bus in her life. The cheapest route to get to Westminster from Hawkshead was a train and 8 bus stops, totaling up to 10 or so hours in and out of vehicles. I groaned and stretched when my feet planted on hard asphalt for the first time in what seemed like forever. But, for all the soreness, I had made it to my destination with time to spare.

It was louder than I had imagined, crowded with traffic from all directions and people running any which way to get on with their lives. It was bustling and busy. Lively. Not exactly what I was used to which made me smile. 

Wide.

I made it. 

I only had a suitcase with me, the rest of her belongings would be delivered in a few days to the new apartment. 

My apartment. 

I was positively giddy at the thought. 

It took a lot of self control to keep from skipping down the side walks while I somehow navigated the new scenery, but I managed to keep my excitement under wraps for the time being. Arriving an hour early gave me a bit of time to take in the bigger sites near by, like the Ferris wheel, the clock tower Big Ben, and my personal favorite- Westminster Palace and abbey. It was a dream of mine since I was little to see it in person, and now here I was standing mere blocks away from the grand building, elated and amazed. 

Vibrating caught my attention and I barely managed to turn my eyes away from the sites in front of me to my phone, Kyra’s name popping up on the screen. My best friend and now room mate, Kyra Bardou, who was probably wondering where the hell I was now. 

“Hey,” I drawled with an obvious grin I couldn’t even hide in my voice. 

“Hey yourself! I’ve been waiting at the stop for 15 minutes with no sign of you only to learn you’re already in town and didn’t even bother to tell me!” She spoke so quickly I was shocked she didn’t run out of breath and laughed. 

“I’m site seeing, sue me!” I turned and started making the slow walk back, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, I promise.”

She only grunted in response and let me walk in a comfortable silence, letting me continue to take everything in while simply enjoying her presence on the line. It was the last few moments I’d get now, the last bits of my old life slipping through my fingers like sand in exchange for a new one. 

And the chaos that comes with a big city. 

Like robbers. 

I couldn’t even let out a cry as I was shoved to the ground, my phone forced from my hand and my suitcase caught up in a strange mans arms. It took me a whole 5 seconds to get my bearings enough to yell at the man and give chase, shouting for help though no one so much as looked our way, just moved out of his. 

“Stop!” I screamed, running but quickly losing him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd skillfully. “Stop! Someone stop him!”

And this time, someone moved to action, running past me at an alarming rate and quickly gaining ground on my assailant before they both rounded a corner and I lost sight of them. 

My heart dropped and I picked up speed again, hoping that I didn’t let them get far enough away for me to lose them completely, it would have been easy for them to get away from me here.

But when I turned around the block, I found the man on the ground with the track star of a man on top of him, already on the phone with I assume the police. I finally caught up to them and without thinking, hugged the man on the phone, a silent thank you while he spoke to whoever was on the line, before I gathered my things and hugging them close to me. 

He smiled kindly, finishing the call and turning to me properly while still pinning the thief to the ground. “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, I’d have been completely lost without this,” I gestured to my luggage. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get it back. I don’t even know how to get around town yet.”

He laughed and nodded. “So new to town then. It was my pleasure to help, though I was really just doing what anyone in my position would do,” he responded kindly.

Furiously I shook my head, “No, you didn’t. I don’t believe I saw a single soul other than you move to help. Unless you did but beat them to it at the last minute. Not that that it implausible, you are seriously fast on your feet.” 

He laughed again and I noticed what a nice laugh he had, it was contagious and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of my own now that my adrenaline was fading bit by bit. “Yes, well- I do enjoy the sport.”

“Dually noted,” I grinned, jumping a little when my phone started to buzz in my hands. Kyra’s name popping up on the screen again. “Shoot!” I exclaimed and answered. I wasn’t even able to put the phone to my ear before I heard her shouting my name on the line. “Kyra-”

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the heck happened, I heard you shout and then the line went dead! Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” She was speaking so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear a safe distance as she spouted one question after another at me without reprieve. 

My rescuer across from me chuckled, overhearing my frantic friend. “I’m fine, someone tried to steal my stuff on my way to meet you. Luckily someone came along and helped me catch him, otherwise I’d have lost everything. But everything is okay now, we are-” I looked around and realized I have no idea where we were. 

He seemed to catch on to my newest distress and whispered, “Tell them we are on the corner of Tufton and Bennett’s Yard.”

I nodded and mouthed a thank you, “ Tufton and Bennett’s Yard,” I repeated and she said she’d be here in a 10 minutes and to sit and wait before hanging up the phone. 

I slouched on the wall of some building, letting myself relax. “Not to be repetitive or anything, but thank you.”

He just shook his head, “No need. You’re friend sounded pretty worried about you, it wouldn’t do well to let her stew in that worry longer than needed.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years since we last saw each other. She’d be pretty upset if something bad happened before I could even move in,” I laughed, though it didn’t quite sound right even to my ears. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I introduced and stuck my hand out. 

He took it and gave a firm shake, “Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Even in these less than optimal circumstances.” 

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, and we both turned our heads to see Kyra sprinting full speed around her car and at me. I stood and braced myself for the collision of her, and fell back against the wall with the force of her body. 

“Holy shit, girl! You scared the hell outta me, you could have died! This is why I told you to call me when you first got into town, you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this. What would I have told your parents if something happened, huh? Huh!?”

I grinned and pulled back to get a proper look at her. Her black hair, normally frizzy was sticking out in every direction and her honeyed eyes wide as she scanned me over, running her hands over my arms for injuries. “I’m fine, Kyra. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” She shot back with a glare, “That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, there is a first for everything after all.”

Tom laughed hard at our back and forth, making us both jump a little and look down at him. Before I could even say anything, Kyra was down on his level with the thieves shirt in her fists and a scowl that would scare the devil himself on her face. 

“Is this the bastard that did this?” 

“Let go!” I shrieked and pulled her off, albeit with a little effort. “Tom called the cops and they’ll deal with this properly. Not you,” I said sternly. She just let out a huff of a response and pushed herself back enough to look at Tom properly. 

She gave him a once over and held her scowl in place, “So you’re the one who saved Y/N/N?”

He gave a small, hesitant nod and gave me a nervous glance. I just laughed and stood back up, as Kyra launched forward to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured a few times and pulled back. 

“No worries,” he said, and looked far less distressed now that Kyra didn’t look like she wanted to gut him. “I was there at the right time is all.”

“Yes, well- That doesn’t mean what you did was anything less than amazing. My whole life is in that bag and in that phone at the moment. Seriously, if there is anything I can do for you in return it’s yours. Ice cream, some roller skates, a kidney. Just ask.”

Everyone laughed at that and he nodded with an obviously sarcastic “sure”, just as the police arrived to take the culprit and our statements. Kyra mumbled something about them being slow and went to the car for a few minutes to be out of the way. 

15 minutes later, everything was settled and they took the man away. Leaving Tom and I alone on the side walk again while I settled everything in my case to be sure I didn’t miss anything and quickly scribbled on a stray notecard. 

“I meant it when I said I owe you one,” I said and handed the card with my name and number to him. “Just give me a ring if I can ever be of any help at all and I’ll come running. Though, probably much slower than you did.”

He tried to decline the offer only once, but after some persistence he took it with another smile, “Thank you, Y/N. Hopefully this will not be our last meeting. And hopefully never again under such pressing circumstances,” he held out his hand, and I took it, returning his earlier shake with a firm one of my own and I agreed. 

“Until next time then,” he said and left. 

I barely was able to take my seat in the car before Kyra grasped my arm with a devious smile, “Y/N/N- Did you just give that guy your number?” My silence was answer enough and she laughed, “Girl! No way!”

No way was right, I thought with a small smile of my own as we pulled away and started home.

»»-——————————————-««

TAGS: open 

@drakesfiance @dumbgopher1​ @kewlbeans-22​​

[mannien]

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - PROLOGUE

The one with graduation, daisies and carnations, and a hopeless emotional addiction.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: some stress and anxiety here and there

Some feelings are addictive. It’s easy to get used to the way something tingles with excitement, warms up with passion, or stings with powerful adrenaline rush. People get comfortable with feelings known and desired and more often than not, they turn them into coping mechanisms. Whatever sticks their wobbly pieces together the longest, is the ultimate solution. Feelings don’t need to be entirely positive or with pure intentions behind them. As long as they cover up the shattered pieces, they stay. They may enhance some experiences, especially when someone decides to stick with something as simple as joy. But some make life more difficult than it seems; they mess up the timeline and allow people to feel so many wrong things before reaching the truth.

An array of emotions weaves through fresh university graduates. A sense of freedom and relief is somewhat clouded by fear or excitement. Someone has an internship lined up, their friends take a year to travel across Europe, a roommate has an apprenticeship at their next job. Others might take things slow and see what the future holds, while some students get prepared to have a fresh start. The overall unknown seems to be the underlying tone in the speeches during the graduation ceremony, but each person in polished shoes and with a rapid heartbeat subconsciously sticks to a feeling that makes them feel more at ease.

Students of each program are called on stage. Every little success along the way is cradled into slippery hats and fitted gowns with the university’s subtle emblem on the front. The audience is sitting on the large balcony above the graduates. People clap with appreciation at each young person walking across the wooden floor and shaking the chancellor’s hand. Some receive a more enthusiastic applause, sometimes even a roar of cheers. As the long queue of journalism graduates makes its way through the hall, the names are listed rapidly. Students walk as if they were a part of an assembly line, trying their best not to delay the process of the nerve-wracking hand-shaking and walking without tripping. The last are always graduates with exceptional results, so the crowds are encouraged to clap vigorously. And that’s what’s heard when the eyes of two women in the audience are focused on the proud figure walking on stage: the loudest cheers of the afternoon so far.

“Remind me, why aren’t we screaming for your boyfriend, and the whole department of journalism is?” A questioning voice surprised Millie so much that she jumped in her seat.

“I’m nervous, Thea. That’s why.”

She stated the obvious. Millie Beaver was the one to frantically fix the sleeves of her gown as a nervous tick. She got up early that morning, dreading the day full of polished festivities and exaggerated elegance requested upon a bunch of tired, educated enough people. The pride in successfully finishing her studies was yet to come; her body was rather keen on reacting dramatically to the large crowds of scholars, pupils and their families. The dread of participating in an unrehearsed event like this clouded her brain and made her focus solely on not loosing it. Though she wouldn’t dare admit it to the smiling man, who was just about to shake some hands on stage. The confidence he wore on his face was something she was used to seeing, even in the least favourable scenarios.

“I still don’t get it, how some people are born so talented that they don’t need to work their asses off to get somewhere,” she shrugged, making her tight black curls shake with her head, “I mean, the hours we spent on reading and researching…”

“I guess we’re just different.”

“Different? It’s not fair, that’s what it is. Patriarchy at its finest.”

The comment made Millie laugh and release some of the tension. Her eyes followed Franklin into the side corridor, where a little crowd of his friends formed a circle around him – the star of the department - before continuing into their seats. His cheerful stance made her bit her lip in excitement; for a moment, she tried to forget about whatever was said through the speakers. She genuinely wanted to be feel happy for him and his academic achievements. After all, she spent previous months on watching him get to the top of their classes almost effortlessly, as if he was born to be talked about by the teachers.

Millie felt her heart speed up at the thought that he might start searching for her for a little cheer, or even a tiny wave of support. But Frank sat down and continued to enjoy his fame, and Thea started to pull her up from the wooden chair.

“Come on, it’s our turn.”

She followed her friend and attempted to smooth out the heavy gown. Her light brown hair flowed as she walked, making her nervously fix it every now and then. She turned to the very end of the queue to find Jane, who wore a wide smile. They made eye contact and the blonde sent her a half-smile, knowing that they are almost through the tough part. It calmed Millie to know that she had her support system, not only up in the balcony, but also somewhere among the students of literary and media studies. At one point she feared that her nightmare of falling off the stage will become reality, but as a surprise to her and her close ones, clumsy Millie walked gracefully and with pride painted across her face.

Mission accomplished: she made it through college without falling.

The main floor of the event hall once again filled with students, their peers, and families. Loud chatter was heard across the building as people were celebrating the achievements of the year’s graduates. Some of the groups moved outside and took in the chilly London air. It smelled of rain and freedom, clouded with light grey pillows in the sky.

The three girls tried to make it through the crowds of chatting people in search for the perfect spot to take pictures together. Jane wore the highest heels of them all, so she was designated to lead them to the wall with the logo of the university. In a tight weave of pinkie fingers, they rushed through the hall just as they would through a college party. Millie felt dizzy from the sea of the same black gowns surrounding them from every angle. Some people waved at them, so she kept her smile wide and left Thea – with her one hand free – to the waving back duty. Their secure escape led them safely to the back wall on the side of the entrance, where some of the students usually found peace between classes and sat down on the floor, watching over the busy entrance to the building during the semester. The carpet remembered a lot of spilled coffees and teas in the wobbly little cups purchased from the cafeteria inside. Millie let out a breath of relief, seeing that only a couple of students found this spot perfect for keeping the memories.

“Hey, congrats! We’re graduates!” Jane welcomed the group that was finishing their poses in front of the wall.

Thea laughed with them, but desperately waved her hand in front of her reddening face to cool off.

“I hate your speed in heels. That was too fast!”

“Don’t worry, at least you don’t have to run to the Linguistics ever again.” Millie pulled her little bag from underneath the gown and looked for a sheet of paper with old notes. As long as Jane was busy chatting up other students, the other two tackled the makeshift air conditioning to prevent Thea’s makeup from running.

“Okay, are we ready for some iPhone memories?” The sound of a snapshot stopped Millie from frantically fanning their friend’s face.

“You sound ready. Do you have a tripod or a selfie stick, though? I want to have a picture with all of you.”

“We could still catch that group and ask someone to snap a few?”

“I’m not running anywhere, I’ve just fixed my face!” Thea puffed her cheeks and did a few more waves around them, certainly for an enhanced dramatic effect.

“Then don’t run anywhere, I’ll call my mom to come here, she’s probably out for a smoke anyway.”

“You really want to have your graduation pictures taken by your mom?” Thea and Millie chuckled at Jane’s resigned sigh. “Maybe Frank could come here? I trust his steady hands more.”

“He was supposed to go to the student’s office after the ceremony. Honours and stuff.” Millie pursed her lips.

“Right when we need him! What a boyfriend.”

“Jane!”

“Do you need a hand, girls?”

A sudden male voice stopped the rising argument and made the three of them look into the corridor. He welcomed them with a warm smile and soft wrinkles by his eyes. With a small bunch of colourful flowers, he stood out in casual, non-graduate clothes, yet with similar youthfulness to him.

“I’m not my brother but I can take a straight picture in focus.”

“What the fuck?” Millie covered her mouth in shock. Hesitantly, she took one step away from Jane and Thea, afraid of her next reaction. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to my friend’s graduation, fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m serious!” She raised her voice and made her way over to him, meeting his steps somewhere in the middle of the distance. He was smiling at her stupidly and she couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his reaction.

“I’m serious too, you made it! That’s so cool!” He opened his arms and invited her in, with a small encouragement of his waving hand.

One of the most addictive feelings are those of an utter comfort and safety. This teasing sparkle making your insides warm up and encouraging you to be a little more positive. That’s precisely what Millie felt when she was engulfed in a tight hug by her childhood best friend. Tom held her tightly across her back and swayed them side to side, earning a hearty laugh from the girl who was now, shining. She felt a sense of genuine relief once he squeezed her in reassurance; her brotherly figure showed up, so she was finally able to relax. Suddenly everything felt easy and perfect. All of the stress, fear of the unknown, anxiety about the grand event of the day, and the rest of damaging emotions slowed down their tempo in her veins, simply because she was home. Her smile swiftly changed into more prominent and definitely brighter by a shade or two. As he held her close, he could feel Millie’s warmth suddenly radiate through his body, making his eyes twinkle with joy because of this very girl.

“Congratulations, Minnie Mouse, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered next to her ear, cautious of what others may hear from their little exchange. She did not need any more nerves weighting her down, so he decided not to make a big scene – even though he definitely wanted to tease her worrying head and make sure she’s having a good time. “you’re all grown up now, so I got you flowers.”

“Oh, so otherwise you wouldn’t?” Millie shook his head, but accepted a small bouquet of carnations and daisies.

“Nah, I know you hate flowers.” He winked at her and put his arm around Millie’s arms, tucking her into his side a little too tightly.

“Absolutely. Thanks Tom, I’ll throw them out after the pictures.”

“Go ahead,” He tucked her in even more, making her squirm in discomfort. It was one of their things, to squeeze one another too tight. It made them feel connected as if they were siblings. They knew how sibling love worked, Tom having three younger brothers and Millie being the youngest of three sisters, but it was refreshing to have it a little spiced up. She let out a shy laugh and pushed him away before taking the delicate bunch from him. She lost the smell of his familiar perfume and took a breath. Once he extended his hand to Millie’s friends, he was back to his public confidence and charm. “Hey! Thea and Jane, right?”

They took an intimidating number of pictures; some of them good enough to share with people, other more fitting into a private photo album filled with silly, heart-warming memories. The group shared a lot of easy laughs together; Millie’s girlfriends eased into the lightly flowing chatter with Tom in no time. It made her sink into the bubble of comfort and light; she was smiling brightly when they reached the entrance to the building. Tom opened the glass door for all of them. A slightly chilly air hit Millie in her blushing cheeks and slowed down the pinky glow spreading across her cheekbones. Somewhere in the distance she noticed her parents lurking excitedly at the group and waving them over expectantly.

There was this heaviness slowing her down and taking up an excess of space in the back of her mind. As they were making their way across the university’s main square, Millie slowly turned her head to the side. She perked up at the sound of loud cheers and noticed a familiar group of students. Among them, there was Frank—laughing and hugging people from his department—and he definitely enjoyed being in the centre of attention. She was sure he didn’t even notice her walking by, but she didn’t want it to affect her as much as it was going to.

In turn, what she didn’t think of was the attention someone would give to her best friend: the smiling, cheerful young man, who was shamelessly chatting up Millie, Thea and Jane.

“Oh my God, is that Tom Holland?”

This simple question, raised somewhere from the group of journalism graduates, didn’t surprise Tom. However, it definitely rose the hairs on the back of Millie’s neck. Though he brushed it off and sent her a reassuring smile, Millie felt panic flowing through her veins. They both knew it could happen, but Tom seemed to be focused more on making her a priority, rather than fearing being recognized as the famous actor. He watched her reaction, now fully aware of her boyfriend emerging from the crowd and skipping towards them.

“Hey, I was trying to find you earlier,” he brushed his hand through his dark blonde hair and gave her a brief smile, before turning excitedly to Tom. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“We just went to…” she paused, seeing as he was already extending his hand towards her friend. “…take pictures.”

“The girls had a nice little photoshoot back inside.” Tom cut short his smile, raising the side of his mouth only to her. He accepted Frank’s handshake but didn’t allow it to turn into a bro-hug. It was fairly easy to read their body language; Franklin tried his best to seem friendly with his girlfriend’s celebrity friend, but the said celebrity was too kind to allow his cheekiness outshine Millie’s comfort zone. Jane and Thea turned their heads away at the sight of palms squeezing a little too tight for a friendly greeting. Frank’s friends and a couple other bystanders watched the exchange with prying eyes, and Millie let out a frustrated groan at the unnecessary tension.

“Cool, cool. Can I steal my girl for a moment?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer, but rather just took her hand and pulled her to the side, hiding slightly behind the group of people. He fixed the tinsel attached to her hat and winked at her, giving her his full attention. He looked at her with his gleaming blue eyes and made her smile at the intimate moment.

“You good, sweetie?”

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Are your parents here? I haven’t seen them.” She looked around, trying to find his mom’s flowing blonde hair.

“They went to get the table at the restaurant nearby. Wanna join us?” He searched her face and leaned in closer, brushing his nose against hers. Millie laid her hand on his shoulder and allowed him into her little space.

“Why are you asking me to choose between our parents?” She chuckled, but patiently waited for his reaction. “Could we all spend time together, at least once?”

“I told you, it’s not a good idea,” Frank brushed his lips against Millie’s, slowly easing her into him and making her return the kiss. “you can ask Tom to come to the party tonight, it’ll be fun.”

“No promises.”

They shared a few more kisses that left Millie breathless - Franklin wasn’t usually the one to publicly show his affection, so she craved anything he willing to give her. She smiled up at him and let him go, happy that he took the minute to catch up with her.

With one last wave of his hand, Frank joined his party. Although he was instantly pulled into celebratory pictures, he couldn’t help but watch Millie walk away; she joined Jane and Thea in a heart-warming group hug. She was just sweet like this: sticking to her people, making sure everyone’s happy, and embracing all the kindness in the simplest actions. Franklin smiled to himself at the sound of her cheerful laugh and turned back to his friends, but then he noticed the source of her laugh. Her and Tom did a barely-there joyful dance, raising their hands and curtseying to her parents. Alfred, her dad, patted him on the back and shook his hand vigorously, while Millie was being squeezed by her mom.

People from Frank’s department praised him for having any kind of relationship with Tom Holland. Frank watched Tom’s joyous exchange with his girlfriend. Tom was proudly paying attention to his best friend, and Millie’s cheeks were hurting from the smiles. She was content and felt at ease. She was sure that her heart was filled to the brim with love and comfort.

Yes, being addicted to feelings is difficult. It holds people hostage in the arms of the sole premise of positive emotional experiences. It’s also blinding for the addicts, making the loss of certain feelings hurt more than it should. Addiction feeds off the weak, the confused, and the uncertain. It eats them up alive and strives to receive more and more satisfaction. It allows for the illusion of reality, so that the addicts can project certain feelings onto their consciousness. They live in their bubbles of unruly contentment and often forget to look into their souls and perform a regular check-up.

Millie was an addict.

***

Please let me know what you think!

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear @sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection @cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0

[cxplqnce]

Liam Dunbar - Immortality

Word Count: 2,016

You’re a 600 year-old-vampire that has been a friend to the Hale’s for years and when Derek met Scott, you became friends with him too. Now Scott has to deal with a new beta that you accidently fall madly in love with after a promise to never love again.

Masterlist

“You guys are idiots, do you know that?” You whisper-yelled at Scott and Stiles outside of Scott’s bedroom – where a freshman named Liam was tied up after Scott had bitten him.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Scott whisper-yelled back, a definite ‘I need help’ look in his eyes.

You sighed, a few possible solutions running through your brain, “He’s definitely going to turn, right?” The two boys hesitantly nodded their heads as you continued to think, “Then we just talk to him. I mean, he’ll understand. We just need to explain it right.”

The boys agreed and pulled Liam out of the bathtub and into a chair which they placed in front of Scott’s bed. They then looked to you as you leant forward to look in his eyes, “Don’t scream when we take the tape off your mouth.” You said, using your compulsion powers.

You moved and Stiles leant forward to peel the tape off his mouth, a pained groan leaving his throat. “Okay, Liam, now you've seen a lot of confusing things tonight. And more confusing things are going to happen because of the confusing things that happened tonight. Do you understand?”

“Not really.” Liam replied with both you and Scott agreeing with his answer.

Stiles nodded his head, “Good. That's good.”

“I don't understand either.” Scott said, looking up slightly and trying to work it out in his head.

Stiles pointed to Scott and then to Liam, “Maybe you should tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Liam demanded as you rubbed your head and sighed.

Scott took a step forward and softened his tone as he spoke, “Liam... What happened to you, what I did to you, which I had to do in order to save you, it's going to change you.”

“Unless it kills you.” Stiles interrupted but quickly followed with, “Shouldn't have said that.”

“What?” Liam asked, his eyes widened and his heart rate speeding up. Liam’s eyes started to water as he let his head drop. You definitely felt bad for the kid, I mean he was even younger than Scott was when he was turned and younger than you were when you were turned into a vampire.

“Uh... Uh-oh. Oh-oh. Is he... Is he crying?” Stiles questioned as Scott kneeled down in front of Liam.

“Liam, it's okay. You're going to be all right… You're not going to die.” He consoled, as Stiles knelt next to him.

“Probably not.”

“Stop it.” Scott scolded.

Stiles nodded, “Okay, possibly not.”

“Would you just help me untie him?” Scott asked, the two boys moving to pull the tape off Liam and the chair before standing back in front of him, “Liam? Are you okay?”

Stiles looked down for a second before looking back at Liam, “We're sorry about that. We're really sorry.” He spoke, slowly and in almost a whisper.

Liam turned around and before any of you could do anything he grabbed the chair and whacked Scott with it, causing him to fall to the ground – taking Stiles with him. You snorted, a chuckle coming from your throat as Stiles pulled himself up just to get punched by Liam. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to conceal the laugh in your throat as Liam ran out of the room.

You just watched while Scott and Stiles clumsily got up from the floor and stumbled out the room, following Liam. You shook your head and sighed following the loud noises before finding Scott and Stiles at the bottom of the stairs in a heap and the door wide open. “You boys okay?”

“What the hell were you doing?” Stiles shouted.

“Watching and laughing, a lot.”

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

You stood with the rest of your pack in Lydia’s lake house watching the chaos unfold as Kira brought Liam through the door.

“What the hell is this?” Liam demanded, a stern look covering his face.

“Think of it like an intervention.” Stiles began, “You have a problem, Liam.”

“And we're the only ones that can help.” Scott finished.

You sat down, pouring a blood bag into a glass and lifting it up, “This is going to be fun, cheers!”

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

You stood watching as Scott and Stiles held a very riled up Liam underneath the shower in an effort to calm him down after he went for one of the students at Devenford Prep.

“Okay! Okay!” Liam yelled, after his face had gone back to normal.

Scott and Stiles pulled back and turned the shower off as Liam slid down the tiled wall and onto the floor, “That car you smashed... I thought you said that was your teacher's?” Scott asked.

“He was also my coach. He benched me for the entire season.” Liam replied.

“What did you do?” You asked, intrigued.

Liam looked down at the floor, “I got a couple of red cards...”

“Just a couple?” Stiles remarked, earning him a jab in the ribs from your elbow.

Scott ignored your little disagreement and continued the conversation, “You gotta be honest with us-- what else happened?”

“Nothing. I got kicked out of school. They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation.”

“What did they call it?” Scott asked, kneeling down to Liam’s level.

Liam replied while doing everything he could not to meet Scott’s eyes, “Intermittent explosive disorder.”

“I.E.D.? You're literally an I.E.D.? That's great. That's great… You gave powers to a walking time bomb!” Stiles exclaimed, earning him another jab in ribs from your elbow that seemed to put a slight smile on Liam’s face – however fleeting it was.

“Did they give you anything for it?” Scott asked.

“Risperdal. It's an antipsychotic.”

“Oh, this just gets better...” Stiles mumbled.

“But I don't take it—” Liam interjected.

“Obviously!”

You shook your head, “Shut up, Stiles.”

“I can't play lacrosse on it, it makes me too tired.” Liam said, looking down at the floor again.

“Okay. I think you should bail out of the game. Tell Coach your leg is still hurting.” Scott suggested.

“No! No. I can do this-- especially if you're there.” Liam retorted, standing up from his position on the floor.

Scott sighed, “But Liam... this isn't just about the game. We think whoever killed Demarco may have been on our team.”

“Who's Demarco?” Liam asked.

“The one who brought the beer to the party? The guy who was beheaded, remember?” Stiles replied.

“We think the person who ordered the keg killed Demarco.” Scott continued. Liam looked down, thinking for a second. “Liam...? What, you know something?”

“I don't know who ordered the keg... But I know who paid for it.”

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

After Liam had told Scott that Garrett had ordered the keg, Scott and Stiles left the room – leaving you alone with Liam.

“You okay?” You asked, taking a step closer to him, from your position against a locker. “That was pretty intense.”

Liam nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay… you must’ve seen that before, right? With Scott.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen out of control werewolves millions of times.” You chuckled, sitting down on a bench in the locker room. “I mean, if you hadn’t have done something like that at least once or twice, I’d think there was something wrong with you.”

Liam sat down on the bench next to you, “How do you know so much about werewolves?”

“I mean, I’ve spent my extremely long life surrounded by the supernatural – mainly werewolves. And I’ve been helping the Hale family for decades… You pick things up.”

“Wait… decades?” Liam questioned, his brows furrowed, “I thought you were 16.”

You nodded, “Physically, yeah. But technically I’m six-hundred and… something – maybe like fourteen or fifteen. I don’t know – I’ve lost count.” You explained, the look of confusion still evident on Liam’s face. “Did Scott and Stiles not tell you that I’m a vampire?”

Liam’s eyes widened, “You’re a vampire? Those exist?”

“Yeah… They do.” You replied, chuckling at his reaction. “And before you ask, I have a ring that lets me walk in the daylight, the reflection thing is a myth and so is the garlic and holy water thing. Also, yes, I do drink blood.”

“That’s insane!” Liam exclaimed, “That’s really cool.”

-----------

For the next two weeks you ended up getting closer to Liam, helping him through his anger and then just generally spending time with him. Unfortunately, you had figured out that you had started to like him – so you started avoiding him. You couldn’t fall in love again, not after what had happened the last time.

It was 1749, you were living in London and had met a man, someone that you connected with and eventually fell in love with. You were about to leave town – as you routinely did every few years – when he found you leaving and you admitted to him what you were. He said he didn’t care so you continued to stay with him. Eventually, you had to leave but he decided to come with you – you found a place in the middle of nowhere, where you could live together.

You got engaged, then married and spent the rest of his life with him. When he died, it broke you and you made a promise to never love again, to never put that life on anyone else.

“Y/N!” Liam yelled from the end of the corridor you had turned into. You tried to turn around but he had already caught up to you, “Are you avoiding me or something? Cause I haven’t seen you in days.”

“No, no I’m not avoiding – I’ve just been busy. Vampire stuff.” You lied, however not very well, but before Liam could reply you made an excuse to leave.

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

It was raining when Liam called you, you weren’t sure whether to pick up the phone or not but since it could’ve been some kind of emergency – you did.

“Hello?” You asked into the phone.

“Y/N, can you come over please.” He whispered, his voice was shaking and you could hear that he was nervous.

You thought for a second, debating in your head, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.” You hung up the phone and drove to Liam’s house, parking a few houses down and jumping up to his window. You saw him sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his hands together. You gently tapped on the window, his head whipping around to you before he stood up and came over to open it.

“What do you need at 2 in the morning?” You asked, climbing into his room and closing the window behind you.

Liam debated over what he was going to say before sighing, “I keep seeing the Berserkers, I can’t sleep and I keep going over in my head why you won’t talk to me.” He said, looking at the ground almost the entire time until he mentioned you.

You sighed, sitting down on his bed, “It’s not you, per say. I have been alive for a long time, Liam, and one of the worst things about immortality is love.” You started. Liam sat down next to you, giving you his full attention. “I will outlive everyone that I love, which is why I try not to love very many people. And I promised myself almost 300 years ago, that I would never fall in love with someone again… and then you happened. The reason I’ve been distant is so I can try to stop myself from falling in love with you because I know that one day… I’ll lose you.”

Liam’s eyes widened when you mentioned love and him in the same sentence, “Did it work?” He asked, “Avoiding me to stop falling in love with me?”

You looked up at him, staring right into his blue eyes. “No.” You said, simply, only now realising just how close you were.

“You can’t live without love, Y/N.” Liam said, “It’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.”

You smiled, leaning closer to him, “Then maybe I should give it a shot.”

“You definitely should.” Liam whispered, the small space between your lips closed as he leaned down to kiss you.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Follow my instagram @cxplqnce :) also I take requests if you have any - for any of the fandoms on my masterlist and some others! :)

[inkandpen22]

All I Want (2/4)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader 

Warnings: swearing, mild smut 

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Sirius convinces Y/N to take a little risk which leads them to trouble

Masterlist

Sirius

"I need Y/N to go with me," I complain to my friends as we settle around the table in the Great Hall. 

"Why do you need Y/N to go with you?" James questions idiotically. "You could ask Marlene, that girl from potions, what about-" 

"Y/N is the only option," I emphasize, growing annoyed that no one else understands. 

"Since when?" Remus interjects as he flips open his textbook. 

"Since she told me no!" I repeat what I told them last night. 

"Ooh, so this is all to prove a point?" James accuses with a raised brow. 

"No! I genuinely want to go with her!" I justify. 

"She's probably just giving you a hard time, playing hard to get. Give it time," James tries to reason. "Keep up with the compliments and maybe even give her a gift or something!" 

"You could just ask her publicly so she can't say no," Remus suggests uncharacteristically. 

James and I share the same confused expression. 

"What do you mean, Moony?" I frown. 

"Do it here," he clarifies. 

"In front of everyone?" Peter sounds astonished. 

"That's sort of what 'public' means..." Remus sasses. 

I shake my head. "Y/N would hate it. She hates being the center of attention." 

"But it would grab her attention," Remus points out a matter-of-factly. 

"I don't know guys..." I'm hesitant to do something so extreme when she was fine with rejecting me in front of our friends. 

"I think it would be great!" Peter gleams, enthused by the idea. 

"You also thought bringing snacks to the Shrieking Shack last month was a great idea," James reminds him disapprovingly. 

"I forgot I had the cinnamon roll in my pocket okay!" Peter huffs. 

"Hush!" I hiss at the group quietly. "Y/N is coming!" 

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the most beautiful girl approach us, surrounded by Marlene and Evans. Her perfect Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. I've always known that Y/N is beautiful, but lately, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It's weird, foreign to me. 

___________________________

Y/N

"And then I wrote back to my mom and told her no," I tell Lily. "So I think I'll be able to visit you this summer for sure!" 

Lily squeals, gripping my arm with excitement. "You can go on holiday with my family to the lake!" 

When we reach our usual spot with the boys already there, I take my seat beside Sirius. Lily sits on my opposite side, already in deep conversation with Marlene to make plans this summer.  

"Spending the summer with Evans?" Sirius inquires with a cheeky grin. 

"A few weeks at the start," I explain. "Her family is taking a trip and invited me." 

Sirius leans close to me and whispers, "I would pay large sums to see you spending hours laying in the sun." 

I playfully nudge him away with a giggle. Goodness, he's such a painful flirt sometimes. 

"What if after you visit Evans, you and I go on a holiday of our own?" He suggests mischievously as he turns his body toward me. 

"You and me?" I giggle as I pour myself some juice. "I think we wouldn't even make it out of London." 

"Just think about it. You, me, on a beach... We could spend weeks alone in a cottage somewhere," he describes as he leans in close. I can feel his lips brush against my ear as he guides my hair back over my shoulder. "No distractions. Days and days of us doing whatever we want for, wherever we want, as long as we want..." he insinuates. 

Chills course down my spine as Sirius glides his fingers down my back to my waist. I turn my head to the side to meet his jet-black gaze. Mere inches from one another, we stare into each other's eyes longing. Merlin, he's a vision, isn't he? Even though I see every day, it's never enough. 

His lips part as his vision falls to my mouth. "Want to get out of here?" 

I nod frantically and he's already a step ahead of me, rising from the bench. 

"We're gonna... uh... we're gonna go for a walk," he stammers as he takes my hand. 

James chuckles knowingly, "yeah sure." 

"Use protection," Remus instructs casually without even glancing up from his textbook. 

“Remus!” Lily gasps his name in disapproval. 

“A spell, Lil!” He smirks, giving Sirius and know glance. “You never know what’s poking around on these “walks” if you know what I mean...” 

“Oh dear heavens,” Lily grumbles while the remaining Marauders chuckle. 

Sirius eagerly tugs me toward the entrance of the Great Hall. I snicker as I struggle to keep up with his speed-walking. He combs his fingers through his long jet black hair with a childish grin. 

Once we make it out of the Great Hall, Sirius glances back at me and we break out into a race. Hand-in-hand, we run down the corridor, weaving between students to get to the nearest empty room. To my surprise, Sirius skids to a stop and yanks me into the closest alcove. Tucked away is a hidden stairwell by the courtyard. Sirius presses me against the stonewall and brings his lips to mine hungrily. His hands roam my body as they've done so many times before. The way he knows exactly what to do like clockwork amazes me. I want to slip into the sensation and just forget the world, yet I can't. 

"Sirius," I mumble against his lips. 

He hums, not willing to stop. 

"We should stop," I pant. 

I'm speaking these words as they're what my mind is telling me what to say, but my body is telling me to do the opposite. 

"Don't want to," Sirius wittily remarks. 

I giggle, making him smile against my lips. "But we should before anyone sees." 

He breaks away from my lips and starts at my neck. "Let them," he determines. "I don't care." 

Okay, that's hot. His ability to be so carefree and willing motivates me to be the same. Since the moment I met him, Sirius has driven me to break through my boundaries and reach for me. It isn't fair that he's so perfect. Everything about him is irresistible. 

"Don't you want to?" He whispers and the warmth of his breath brushes against my neck. 

My eyes fall shut as my fingers comb through the hair on the nape of his neck. 

"You know I do," I sigh. 

"Then why shouldn't we?" He urges mischievously. 

A can name a hundred reasons, but here the moment I can't think of any. Will it ever stop, the pining for him? He's always in my thoughts. 

"We'd be breaking the rules. If we get caught-" 

"Detection would give more time alone. More time to-" 

"Mr. Black! Ms. Y/L/N!" McGonagall's voice echoes through the corridor. 

"Fuck!" Sirius curses under his breath and parts from me swiftly. 

"I told you!" I hiss quietly. 

The sound of her heels vastly approaching makes my heart race. We're in such trouble. 

McGonagall appears in the archway leading out to the alcove. She must've seen us through the windows of the courtyard. She wears a disappointed and bewildered expression. 

"Mr. Black and Ms. Y/L/N, this not the time nor the place for your endeavors!" She puts ever so lightly. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall for supper?" 

"We um...We..." I stammer anxiously, at a loss for words. 

I never get in trouble. I may act rebellious here and there, broken a few rules, but I've never been caught. I've never done anything that requires discipline. 

"It was my idea, Minnie! Entirely my idea," Sirius takes the full blame. 

"Well, I sure hope so as this is entirely unlike you, Ms. Y/L/N!" She looks at me with pure disappointment and I feel the same. 

"I'm so sorry, Professor!" I apologize instantly. 

My heart is in my throat. If my parents hear about this, I'm royally screwed! One, they'll be furious that I've received detention. Two, they don't even know that Sirius and I are... well... whatever we are. 

"Detention after school tomorrow," McGonagall determines. 

"No please!" I try to plead, but McGonagall raises her hand for me to save my breath. 

"Be in my office right after your last class," she declares as she turns back down the hall. 

Sirius follows her without a moment's hesitation. "Professor please! Allow me to take all the blame," he sighs. "It isn't Y/N's fault!" 

I follow behind the pair, praying Sirius can change her mind. They're close and I know McGonagall has a soft for him. 

"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'it takes two to tango,' Mr. Black?" McGonagall wittily replies, not giving at all to Sirius's pleading. 

"I'll do both my and Y/N's detentions! Add a third even!" He requests. 

McGonagall releases a deep sigh and as she slows to a halt. I stop a few steps behind as she glances between Sirius and me. Then, she turns to address Sirius directly. 

"I respect your willingness to take the fall for Ms. Y/L/N, it's very noble of you. Yet, my mind is made up," she declares calmly. 

I hide my face in my hands with a deep sigh. This is going to be terrible. My parents are going to kill me! I've made it to seventeen without a single thing on my record and within ten minutes that achievement went down that drain. All for a hot piece of ass too, unbelievable! 

"In light of this being Ms. Y/L/N's first offense-" McGonagall announces, causing me to glance up at her, "-I will not be contacting your parents and it will not go on your record. However, you will use the detection time to think of your actions!" 

A massive height lifts from my chest and Sirius grins. I exhale deeply and approach the pair with relief. Sirius reaches for my hand and I swat it away. Now is not the time! I see a hint of amusement on McGonagall's face at my action. 

"Thank you, Professor! It'll never happen again!" I guarantee her. 

"I sure hope not!" She replies. "Keep in mind there are First Years around!" 

"Yes Ma'am," I nod. 

When Sirius doesn't respond I below him in the side, causing him to wince. 

"Right, right," he agrees absentmindedly, as he doesn't care. "Keep out of sight of children." 

McGonagall huffs, but never the less hurries along down the hall, knowing she'll never reach Sirius. 

"That's not what she meant," I hiss between my teeth quietly as we watch McGonagall walk away.  

Sirius chuckles, "I know. I just like pushing her buttons a little." 

"Well, your pushing almost got me in immense trouble!" I remind Sirius as I turn to start back to the Great Hall. 

His fingers wrap around my wrist and yank me back to him, causing me to land in his chest. I attempt to wiggle out of his hold as he slips his arm around my waist, but then he uses his free hand to grip my chin. He forces me to look him in the eyes as he chuckles. He truly doesn't care that we just got detentions. I guess it's just another notch on the stick for him, huh? 

"Don't fret Y/N, this will be fun," he voices confidently. 

"How can you be so sure?" I grumble. "It's detention." 

"What's life without a little risk?" He winks and brings leans in for a kiss. 

Sirius Black will be the death of me. 

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @agirlwholovescoffee @hyperactiveravenclaw​ @fleurho @rangergranger11

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 4

Hello, my lovelies! It is Saturday and I actually have some time to post now. YES! I don't have to wait until the final hour on Sunday night. Hats off to my brother for distracting the children. Haha.

I can't wait to see what you all think of this chapter. Editing it was a tooth-gritting experience. Enjoy!

---

John cannot help the grin spreading across his face as Gracie drags him through Regent’s Park to the appointed place they have met Olive for nearly a month now. Her face is screwed up in determination, her feet marching swiftly along and she tugs him behind by the hand. John shakes his head slightly and huffs a quiet laugh. He should have known his idea of a leisurely stroll on the way to meet Olive and her father was not in the cards. Gracie had informed John that, barring some emergency case, they would be in the park in the usual place before he had even taken his coat off after arriving home the night before. Candace had laughed and said Gracie had spoken of nothing else since leaving school. John even had a hard time getting her settled for bed. Gracie kept detailing the playdate plans she had made with Olive. She finally stopped and committed to sleep when John told her she would be too tired to go and have to stay home.

The morning had been a buzz of activity as they made and ate breakfast, and did some household chores. Gracie didn’t even argue about cleaning her room. They watered the plants in their small courtyard together. Gracie pulled a few weeds and, before they knew it, it was lunchtime. John made something quick so he could make afternoon snacks along with it, and so Gracie could get started eating. Weekends usually see her at the table for at least an hour, talking and eating as slowly as humanly possible. Today, however, she ate in record time and was waiting by the door anxiously when it was time to go.

“Come on, Dad,” Gracie growls, yanking John’s hand again. John grumbles when their snack-toting shoulder bag slips down his free arm to his elbow. Fortunately, he catches hold of it before it spills open or hits the ground.

“Gracie, slow down,” John commands tersely. “They aren’t going to leave before we get there.”

“We’re nearly ten minutes late,” Gracie insists without looking back at him, tugging him ahead again.

“I knew that watch was a bad idea,” John mutters to himself and sighs. Suddenly, Gracie stops in her tracks and John nearly walks right into her. The shoulder bag slips again, stopping only because its length adjustment clip catches on the fabric of his thin spring cardigan. John scrambles for the bag before it tears a hole and scolds his daughter, but his voice is completely drowned out by her squeal.

“Oh my god, they’re here!” Gracie drops John’s hand and runs at full speed toward the two figures twenty yards ahead. John huffs as he steadies the bag on his shoulder. He let her get away with that three times during the story last night, but is not about to this time.

“Gracie, language…” the word dies in John’s throat as his eyes follow his daughter to where a tall man sits on his knees in the dirt with Olive. It’s Sherlock Holmes.

“Oh my god,” John says slowly as shock overtakes him.

Sherlock and Olive are studying something in her hand that they must have pulled from the dirt and are deep in discussion. They haven’t even noticed Gracie running for them yet. John, unlike his daughter, cannot move. It’s Sherlock. Sherlock is right in front of him. John has not seen this man in ten years and he looks… exactly the same. Tall and fit and thin. Hm. Thin instead of skinny and not so pale. Sherlock looks healthy, which is not something John ever thought would cross his mind.

John watches as Gracie reaches them and shouts a greeting. Olive drops whatever she was holding to throw her hands in the air and cry out Gracie’s name. Sherlock reaches toward Gracie and laughs as he says ‘hey’. He is smiling. It’s the brightest, happiest smile John has ever seen on Sherlock’s face and it. Is. Beautiful.

So not everything is exactly the same with Sherlock Holmes and yet, doesn’t feel that far off. He is wearing one of his dress shirts, as John would expect, but his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and he is wearing jeans. Jeans! And an ordinary pair of brown shoes. His curls are still dark and tousled. John can’t help but think of his own hair, more grey now than blonde. At least, that’s how he sees it. Still, the years have been kind to John too. He’s only a little fuller in the middle and the lines on his face have grown very little. John wonders for a moment what Sherlock will see when he finally lays eyes on John again.

“Dad!” Gracie calls and waves, jarring John from his reverie. His gaze comes into focus to see Gracie and Olive motioning to him frantically. John’s eyes shift to the detective and, oh god, Sherlock is looking at him.

Sherlock’s eyes are wide with surprise, his lips parted. That brilliant smile he had just worn fading away as the realization that his former flatmate and best friend is standing a few yards away takes hold. The detective rises slowly as Olive and Gracie dart for John, reaching him in seconds. They each grab one of his hands and start flapping up and down, Olive saying hello and Gracie urging him to come along. John cannot tear his eyes away from the tall man staring back at him. Neither man can believe his eyes or the coincidence of it all. Speaking of which, how the bloody hell does Sherlock Holmes have a child? One he obviously fathered because she looks just like him.

“Dad, come on. Come on,” Gracie interrupts John’s bewildered thoughts again, tugging hard on his hand. “Come meet Olive’s dad.”

“He’s right there,” Olive is saying while pulling John’s other hand. “We were just studying the soil. You’re not interrupting. He really wants to meet you.”

“Dad,” Gracie raises her voice and John finally responds with a slight shake of the head as he puts one foot in front of the other. Gracie rolls her eyes and continues to drag him along. Fortunately, she and Olive don’t have to pull him far because Sherlock begins to walk toward them. When they all meet there in the grass, the two girls start jumping around excitedly and shouting about how great it is that it’s finally happening.

“We’ve been waiting for this for so long!” Gracie exclaims, her feet never on the ground for more than a second at a time.

“And now we can have our playdate,” Olive declares. Whenever Gracie is touching the ground, Olive’s feet are in the air. It looks rather like a mad seesaw. “Maybe next weekend too!”

The two girls gasp and suddenly stop moving, frozen in time. They stare at one another, each thinking the same thing.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Gracie speaks first in a high voice and then lets out a little giggle. She often does when she is very excited, along with a quick dance. Olive nods frantically, saying ‘Yes, yes, yes’ and they both turn to their fathers for introductions

“Dad,” Gracie grabs John’s hand again and jumps in place, “this is Olive’s dad, Will.”

“Actually, Sherlock Holmes,” Olive pipes up. She turns to Sherlock with a bright smile. “This is John.”

“H-hi,” John stumbles over the word like an idiot. There are a couple of lines around Sherlock’s eyes and two or three on his forehead, wisps of grey hair at his temples and maybe a few mixed into his curls, but they are harder to see. He is much the same man John left behind ten years ago and his heart aches with how much John missed him.

“Hello, John,” Sherlock replies in a soft, warm tone and damn him for collecting himself again so quickly. Damn him again for still having that same silky baritone John had finally gotten used to not hearing. It’s almost too much. John had to completely rearrange his life and way of thinking when he and Mary left London. He struggled in silence because Mary wanted nothing more to do with the detective. She was done and insisted John finish with him as well. John learned quickly that Mary did not want to hear about, or even see, his difficulties with forgetting Sherlock. He used to slip out of the house periodically to phone Greg and find out how Sherlock was, but stopped after only two months. Hearing about his best friend and not being able to see or help him proved to be too painful. Shortly thereafter, something else happened that required all of John’s attention and nearly broke him. That first year in Bath had been hard.

John swallows hard and shoves the memories down. He can’t do this. Seeing Sherlock again… It’s too much. Sherlock’s brows are raised, worry creeping onto his face. Damn it. John must be broadcasting every thought and emotion going through his head. Sentiment, Sherlock would say with disdain.

“There,” Gracie says loudly with glee and John blinks from the shock of it. “Now you’ve met. Can we have our playdate tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes,” Olive echoes her friend’s excited tone. “Can we?”

“Olive, you know we have plans tomorrow,” Sherlock tuts and reminds her when she frowns quizzically. “A certain birthday party.”

“Oh! I forgot,” Olive turns to a disappointed Gracie to explain. “It’s my uncle’s party. We’re going to make a cake tonight and put the frosting on in the morning. What about next Sunday?”

Both girls are looking at Sherlock expectantly. He glances at John, who still cannot seem to get himself together and function normally.

“We’ll talk about it while you’re playing,” Sherlock assures them. They don’t seem satisfied with this answer at first, but another idea occurs to Olive quickly enough.

“Come on,” she says to Gracie suddenly. “I’ll tell you about the party while we swing.”

“Hurry, before they beat us to them!” Gracie shouts, spying two other girls heading that way. Just like that, they’re off across the playground. John and Sherlock are alone.

“John,” Sherlock’s voice is soft. A small smile plays at his lips and John feels a surge of nerves coarse through his gut as he remembers how Sherlock smiled on the tarmac after that stupid joke.

Sherlock is really a girl’s name.

John inhales quickly, but deeply and lets it out of his nose slowly, trying not to appear panicked. God, he missed this idiot.

“Are you all right?” Sherlock asks, concern plain on his face now.

“Yes,” John croaks, cursing himself silently and clearing his throat. “I’m fine. Just surprised. I had no idea.”

“Nor did I,” Sherlock agrees, relaxing his stance a bit. “Olive always said ‘Gracie’s dad’.”

“Yeah, exactly,” John smiles slightly in spite of himself. “She mentioned you work with the police, but I never would have made the connection. Of course, she also said your name was Will, come to think of it.”

John is rambling now. Goddamn, just shut up, Watson. His eyes rove over Sherlock’s face, taking in every detail. Every angle and line, reacquainting himself with those ridiculous cheekbones. It’s like coming home.

“You look good,” John says before he can think better of it. His cheeks flush and he can feel the warmth of it, but he doesn’t look away.

“You do too, John,” Sherlock answers, almost looking a touch bashful. It is certainly a different look for Sherlock Holmes, John muses. “Bath suits you.”

“Ah, not well enough,” John tilts his head and smirks. “Not like London. I’m back for good.”

“So I hear. You’ve taken over a practice,” Sherlock remarks conversationally. “How is it?”

“Yeah, Andrew Collins, an old friend. He’s taken early retirement,” John tells him, resting his hands on his hips casually. “It’s good. I like it. Different patients, occasional emergency.”

“And you’ve been at it…” Sherlock pauses to let John fill in the blank. John feels a bit apprehensive. Sherlock is fishing. He wants to know how long John has been in London without trying to contact him once. He knows it has been longer than since Gracie started school. Of course, he does.

“A couple of months,” John finishes the sentence and wets his lips. “I wanted to make sure it suited me before moving Gracie.”

“Of course,” Sherlock says with a nod. Oddly enough, he does not seem at all put out. “Perfectly planned.”

“You’re still at 221B?” John asks in an easy tone, even though the question has been burning in his mind.

“I am,” Sherlock’s shoulders angle back minutely.

“From what I hear, Olive is in…” John stops, suddenly not sure how to phrase it.

“Your old room, yes,” Sherlock says without hesitation. John knows it shouldn’t, but his gut clenches at how easily Sherlock says it. As if he doesn’t mind at all that John is gone. Then again, why should he? It’s been ten years and so much has changed. They have both moved on. They are both fathers and have their own lives. Until five minutes ago, John thought they would never cross paths again.

“It’s good of you to meet us today,” Sherlock begins. “Olive has spoken of little else. Is Rosie with you too?”

John’s smile fades in a second. He should have known it was unavoidable. Sherlock seems so changed, but is apparently just the same. Why should their past friendship spare John from his ruthless bite and deductions?

“No,” John replies curtly. “She’s not here.”

“Ah,” Sherlock answers pleasantly enough. It’s a good show and cuts John to the bone. “At home with Mary then. It is Rosie? Mary said she liked the name.”

“Do we have to do this?” John snaps, the muscles in his jaw contracting as his anger builds. Yes, John had left with a word. Yes, he hadn’t tried to contact Sherlock even once over the last ten years, but that didn’t give Sherlock the right to drag him back through the despair and heartache.

“Uh...no,” the detective responds apprehensively. He watches John with uncertainty, as if he doesn’t understand what he has done wrong. John remains silent and glares daggers. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“What, Sherlock?” John interrupts, his blue eyes cold as ice. “You’d rub salt on the wound?”

Sherlock’s lips part and he shakes his head shallowly as though he does not know what to say or what is happening.

“Unbelievable,” John mutters and then snaps again. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Mycroft still has his minions watching me, even after all this time. Don’t pretend he hasn’t told you everything.”

John’s fury boils strong in his blood, but he reigns it in for the sake of the girls and other children around them. None of them need to witness him shouting at Sherlock today, or any time for that matter. He glares up at his former friend and feels a fresh wave of anger sweep over him when Sherlock continues to look at him in confusion. The taller man raises his hands to placate John and actually takes a small step backwards. He shakes his head again, opening his mouth to say what? Play the fool? No, absolutely not. Sherlock is not going to deny this and trick John into apologizing. Not this time.

John raises his left hand to point an accusatory finger, but Sherlock beats him to the next word.

“I’m sorry, John. I don’t know…”

“She’s dead,” John cuts him off a little too loudly for a woman nearby. She gasps and moves away quickly. Feeling a shade self-conscious, John lowers his hand slowly and glances around to see if anyone else heard. The other men and women sitting on blankets in the grass or on park benches around them give no indication that they heard a thing. Every one of them continues looking on as their children play or read a book without a single look in John and Sherlock’s direction.

“I had no idea Mary had been killed,” Sherlock begins as John turns to face him. He appears appropriately contrite, in spite of the fact that Mary had nearly killed him months before they left London. “I am sorry.”

“Not Mary,” John shakes his head, suddenly very tired. “Rosie.”

“Rose…” Sherlock’s jaw drops in utter shock. He can’t even say her name and his voice fades into a quiet strangled sound. His face has gone very pale indeed and John almost asks if he is okay as his doctor’s nature kicks in, but then the anger surges back. Sherlock can never just let things be. He always has to poke the bear. He did it on every case. Every deduction, no matter how painful for those involved, announced with flourish so he could show off. Everyone had to know Sherlock Holmes was a genius, a magnificent, bloody genius and John had played right into it.

Now the detective turns it back on John. Now he is the interesting case and must be dragged through the mire, forced to remember another event that nearly tore him apart. First Afghanistan, then Sherlock and finally, Rosie. John is being punished. Punished for leaving Sherlock in the same way John had punished him upon his return from the dead. John deserves this. He knows he does, but fury rises up in his throat regardless and his hands clench at his sides.

“Oh god,” Sherlock’s voice almost startles John. It is small and so full of pain. John jerks his head back in confusion at the unexpected sentiment, his mind reeling with anger and perplexity in equal measure. Sherlock reaches for him and he is suddenly in the detective’s arms. John’s eyes are wide, his body stiff with shock. He has no idea how to react to this. Sherlock was never big on touching people and, while it had always been different with John, he could count the number of times this had happened on one hand, and most of them were at his wedding.

John remains still and tries to sort through all of the thoughts and feelings in his mind. One surfaces again and again, though he pushes it away. The feeling that he just wants to let go and melt in this man’s arms. How much did he want this very thing when they lived together in 221B? How many times had he wanted it over the years while he was in Bath and now here he is resisting it. John’s mind spins, unable to pick a direction until he hears Sherlock’s next words.

“I’m so sorry, John.”

It is a whisper in John’s ear and it sets every nerve ablaze. John pulls himself from Sherlock’s embrace and backs away, shaking his head from side to side. His body quakes with anger as he glares at his former friend.

“You don’t get to do this,” John growls, keeping himself in check in this public setting. Sherlock looks stunned and John’s mind gives a mirthless laugh. It was probably by design that Sherlock planned they meet here in a park within full view of their daughters. John could never haul off and punch him here. “You bastard.”

“John, no. That’s not what this is about,” Sherlock begins, the surprise falling from his face as he deduces John perfectly. Damn him.

“Then what is it about, Sherlock?” John bites out, keeping his voice down. “You want me to suffer because I left. I chose Mary and I left you and you want me to pay.”

“No,” Sherlock insists, his arms out now and palms out.

“Bullshit,” John snaps, his hands in fists again. His jaw is tight in a furious smile and his eyes flash. He takes a step toward Sherlock that can be interpreted as nothing less than aggressive, a warning. “Your damn brother has said it all before, but it’s not enough. You have to make me explain it all.”

“No!” Sherlock interrupts with a quiet urgency in his voice. He takes his own step forward so the two men are nose to nose, not more than a foot between them. “Mycroft tried to tell me where you went and what you were doing, but he didn’t, John. I wouldn’t let him. I don’t know a thing about the last ten years of your life. Not one thing.”

“What?” John’s brows furrow and he grimaces. The anger tries to push back and take control, but Sherlock’s words have a foothold and won’t back down. John searches his eyes for deception where there is none. “But his men. I’ve seen them.”

“He will always have spies. He can’t bear to not know everything,” Sherlock says like it’s a bad taste in his mouth. He meets John’s eyes and his expression softens. “But I don’t. I don’t know anything.”

“Why?” is all John can think to say. It doesn’t make sense. Sherlock always had to know, especially if it was something Mycroft knew. That competition surpassed all others in both their minds. How could he avoid the temptation? Unless it wasn’t one, and that thought turns John’s stomach.

“It was too much,” Sherlock mutters, lowering his eyes. He bites his lower lip and his gaze loses its focus as he recalls the past. “Two days after you’d gone, Mycroft came to the flat to tell me you’d gone by train. I stopped him before he even said where.”

Sherlock raises his silvery eyes that look just a bit glossier than usual. He sighs and tilts his head slightly, the corners of his lips angling downward.

“I knew he would tell me whatever I wanted to know, but…”Sherlock pauses to wet his lips and swallow. He continues slowly: “It hurt too much.”

John’s lips part at the revelation and all the anger drains from his body. He has never seen Sherlock more vulnerable and human. Even at the wedding during his speech or when he uttered those words through the hotel door to stop James from committing suicide. 

We wouldn’t do that to John, would we?

“Sherlock…” John tries to find the words and fails.So many thoughts race through his mind. All the feelings he’d had when big things happened and he didn’t hear so much as a whisper from Sherlock. He assumed Sherlock didn’t care and simply continued on as if he had never known John. It made him furious until he reminded himself that he had made no effort to contact the detective either. Now he knows that Sherlock knew nothing of it. He knew nothing and for all these years. God, John was such a fool.

“It’s fine, John,” Sherlock’s voice, now at normal volume and sounding very collected. “It’s all fine. I’ll keep my distance. We don’t have to interact simply because our daughters are friends.”

“What? No,” John blurts when Sherlock starts to move away. “No, Sherlock, that’s not… Look, I’m sorry.”

Sherlock’s brows raise in quiet surprise and he opens his mouth to speak, but John continues before he can utter a word.

“I shouldn’t have…” John presses his lips together and inhales deeply, struggling to find the words. “I just assumed… I shouldn’t have done.”

“It is a fair assumption, John,” Sherlock straightens, his tone matter of fact. “It follows logically given your experience and knowledge of me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe my knowledge of you is incomplete,” John says. He glances down and shifts his weight. “Let’s...sit down. Over there. That one’s empty.”

John points to a bench and looks up at the detective. His cupid’s bow turns up into the beginnings of a smile and he nods, taking the first step.

The two men spend the rest of the afternoon on that bench. Olive and Gracie interrupt periodically for snacks and drinks of water. The girls regale them with stories of their adventures in the park or events from school and then run back to play. John and Sherlock talk almost non-stop when they are on their own; stories about the girls as babies and toddlers, and as they started school. It is clear that neither Mary nor Sherlock’s...wife? was in the picture from the very beginning, but neither man says why or even behaves as though it should be explained. Still, John cannot believe the woman, whoever she is, has been entirely absent. So where is she? He does not ask Sherlock though, not wanting to nose in and after a while, John stops wondering where Olive came from and just accepts that it has always been she and Sherlock in 221B.

Naturally, John asks after his other friends. Greg is the head of the whole crime division now and actually assigns his Chief Inspectors to work with Sherlock. He has never remarried, but has cohabited, as Sherlock puts it, for the last five years. Molly runs the morgue, so Sherlock still sees quite a bit of her too. She married a bloke named Alex a couple of years after John left and has a four year old Olive adores. Unfortunately, Sherlock doesn’t see much of Mike Stamford, but he was well and happy the last Sherlock knew. Mycroft is as irritating as ever and that’s all he will say on the subject. Mrs. Hudson is still rattling around 221A and would love to see John, who just nods and asks if she’s still stuffing Sherlock with biscuits. 

Before they know it, the afternoon has slipped into evening and the girls have returned with demands of dinner.

“I’m sorry to keep you for so long,” John says, hurriedly glancing at his watch. “We meant to leave an hour ago. I’m sure you have plans.”

“We’re having dinner with Mrs. H,” Olive rubs her hands together and licks her lips. “She’s making a roast with potatoes and then we’re going to make the birthday cake.”

“Oh, dear,” John remarks playfully. “We can’t have you missing out on all that.”

“Dad,” Gracie pulls on his hand impatiently, “did you schedule our playdate? Is it next weekend?”

“Uh… Well, no,” John replies, suddenly off balance. Seeing Sherlock is one thing, catching up has been fantastic, but going back to the flat.. John isn’t ready for that. He’s honestly not sure he will ever be.

“Dad,” Gracie complains.

“It would be no trouble,” Sherlock tells him and Olive nods emphatically. “We’d love to have her.”

“No,” John answers on impulse before he can think better of it.

“What? Why?” Gracie demands.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” John continues looking at Sherlock and then turns his attention to his daughter. “I’d like to get to know Olive’s dad a little better.”

A man he used to know so well, John thinks sadly. Was it his imagination or had Sherlock flinched at that? Damn it if the man can’t still read minds.

“But you talked all afternoon,” Gracie states with irritation and stomps her foot.

“Gracie,” John says sternly and she stops, looking at him in frustration. “We’ll talk about this later. Say goodbye to Olive.”

Gracie watches him a moment and then sighs in resignation. She steps forward and hugs the taller girl, who wraps her arms around her. They both say goodbye, Gracie in disappointment and John swears he hears Olive whisper ‘We’ll have a playdate soon enough, if I have anything to do with it’. The two girls part, Sherlock and John bid each other farewell, and each pair heads off in opposite directions.

Given the time, John and Gracie stop for takeaway on the way home. Gracie does not ask about the playdate or John’s decision until they are at the table with steaming plates of food. Once she does broach the topic though, she jumps in without preamble.

“So why can’t we have a playdate?” Gracie asks around a mouthful of nargisi kofta.

John lets out a deep sigh from between his lips and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. He really does not want to explain the whole situation and past with Sherlock Holmes, but has to say something that will satisfy her. He needs time to work through this. John had decided never to see Sherlock again and, up until a few short hours ago, would have upheld it. That is no longer an option and so many memories still flood back, but not things they did together. He thinks about those often enough, whenever he tells Gracie one of his bedtime stories for one. No, these are sensory memories. Sherlock’s smooth voice and ever-changing eyes, his scent and what it feels like to touch him, his sense of humor and his laugh. John is awash with feelings and sensations that he cannot possibly explain to Gracie right now. He can’t even make sense of them himself at the moment.

“You can, eventually,” John answers lamely. He would roll his eyes if he could keep Gracie from seeing.

“You said you needed to meet Olive’s dad,” Gracie says in her voice of logic. “Now you’ve met him.”

“I didn’t say you could have a playdate immediately after I met him,” John tells her. It’s true, but definitely a technicality.

“Don’t you like him?” Gracie chews on some naan.

“I like him just fine, Gracie,” John replies quickly.

“Then what’s the problem?” she picks up her glass of milk and drinks.

“I just need some time,” John finally says, unable to think of anything else. Gracie frowns and looks at him. Obviously not the response she expected and John rushes to say something that makes more sense. “I know we’ve been here a while, but it’s still all so new. Just give me a chance to get used to things, yeah?”

“Okay,” Gracie says easily after some consideration and John sighs with relief internally. She replaces her glass on the table and scoops up a forkful of matar paneer. “Having Olive for my best friend helped a lot. Maybe her dad could be your best friend.”

John sits motionless as she stuffs the fork in her mouth and begins chewing. He blinks once and the corner of his mouth lifts in the barest of smiles.

“Maybe,” is all he says before changing the subject.

***

“Dad finally met Gracie’s dad today!” Olive hoots as soon as she bursts through the door to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. The older woman throws up her hands, one holding a spoon, from where she stands in front of the stove.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Mrs Hudson declares. She bends so Olive can give her a kiss. “Do you have your playdate all scheduled then?”

“No. Her dad didn’t want to plan it yet,” Olive answers only a little disappointed now. “But we’ll have one. Mark my words.”

“I don’t doubt it, dear,” Mrs. Hudson laughs as the girl runs to the loo to wash her hands. Mrs. Hudson glances in Sherlock’s direction as he silently walks into the room. “So you met someone new. He as charming as he sounds?”

“Rather,” Sherlock says with suspicion and Mrs. Hudson looks at him directly, knowing the tone of voice well. “Has Olive mentioned Gracie’s surname to you?”

“Well, no,” Mrs. Hudson raises her eyes to the top of the door frame in thought and then rests her hands on her hips. “I don’t think she knows what it is. Surnames aren’t exactly important to children.”

“Watson,” Sherlock states plainly.

“Gracie Watson?” Mrs. Hudson asks, astonished. “And her father is a doctor. John?”

“The very same,” Sherlock nods. Mrs. Hudson stares in silence for a moment until she clasps her hands together, the spoon clutched between the two of them.

“Well, isn’t that just wonderful?” she beams at Sherlock. “After all these years. Fate has pulled you two boys together again.”

“Mm. Is it?” Sherlock mutters, ignoring her last comment and moving past her. He begins picking up glasses to fill with beverages.

“Sherlock, why on earth would you say that?” the old woman asks in disbelief.

“It wasn’t exactly a happy reunion,” Sherlock pours milk in Olive’s glass.

“Even so,” Mrs. Hudson stops abruptly at the sound of Olive’s footsteps running for them. The woman glances to see her coming and quietly scolds the younger man. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Dinner passes quickly enough with story after story from Olive about playing in the park with Gracie and how they started making up their own Nancy Drew mystery to act out. In no time at all, Sherlock and Olive are headed up the stairs to make Mycroft’s birthday cake. Olive brushes her teeth and changes into pajamas once it is in the oven and is asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

Sherlock pours two glasses of scotch and waits for his landlady to appear. Mrs. Hudson may doze off in front of the telly half the time, but never when she has promised Sherlock a talking to. It gives him some time to sort through his thoughts and he shudders as he begins to re-examine the afternoon’s conversation. John believed Sherlock knew all the details of his life and chose to ignore him. Sherlock is not the least bit surprised John noticed Mycroft’s spies. The doctor was always more perceptive than he was given credit for, even by Sherlock. Given the circumstances, John’s initial reaction makes perfect sense. 

Sherlock sighs heavily. Part of him wishes he had let Mycroft inform on John. Surely giving John the chance to spurn his efforts to contact him would have been preferable to the feeling of being ignored. Sherlock certainly would have preferred his own rejection to inflicting it upon John, even unwittingly. His shoulders sag the more he thinks and he leans into his chair. John and Gracie are alone. There is no Rosie, no Mary and Sherlock has no idea why. John wasn’t exactly forthcoming either. What could have happened? Sherlock could guess, but he doesn’t want to. The same way he didn’t read it all off John the moment he saw him, despite the temptation. He wants John to tell him himself. He wants John to want him to know, and to trust him again.

Sherlock blinks once and tries to focus on something else, like all the stories John shared about Gracie growing up, but he keeps coming back to the thought of John believing himself rejected. If Sherlock had known, if he had known any of what John had been through, he would not have been able to stop himself from reaching out. He knew Mary was the reason John had left. She was finished with London and the surgery, but mostly with Sherlock. She had enough of John running off on cases once they were married. She knew she couldn’t escape Mycroft watching her movements, but she could get rid of Sherlock. Shooting him didn’t work, so she left and John went with her. He had never acknowledged Sherlock after that. Sherlock thought it was pride or maybe that John was tired of him too. Now he knows that John thought Sherlock didn’t want to hear from him and it breaks his heart.

A noise from the hall reaches Sherlock’s ears and he shifts his gaze to the doorway as Mrs. Hudson appears. He gestures to Olive’s, formerly John’s, chair with the hand not holding the scotch. Mrs. Hudson walks to it silently and sits opposite him. She plucks up the glass he placed on the side table for her and takes a sip. Smiling and closing her eyes, Mrs. Hudson leans back against the soft red cushions and exhales deeply. She does not speak, which surprises Sherlock until the oven timer sounds. He rises, sets down his glass on the desk and heads for the kitchen. He checks the cake with a toothpick as he promised Olive, knowing she will investigate its surface for the holes. He picks up the pan with oven mitts and places it on a cooling rack.

When he returns to the sitting room and picks up his scotch glass, Mrs. Hudson looks at him and motions for him to sit this time. He smirks slightly and does, stretching out his long legs and crossing his ankles.

“All done, is it?” his landlady asks companionably, referring to the cake. Sherlock nods once in reply. “Good. Did you know he is Gracie’s father?”

“No,” Sherlock says with shame. “I should have worked it out. Olive told me they just moved here, but that her father lived here before. I knew he was a doctor. It’s just… I never thought he would come back. I never thought I’d see him again and didn’t even consider the possibility.”

“It’s okay, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson smiles at him kindly. “Life surprises us sometimes. Even the ones who are brilliant.”

They pause a moment, sipping their drinks and marinating in what has been said.

“Now what’s all this about John’s return not being good news?” Mrs. Hudson sits up a little straighter. “Is it Mary?”

“No. He wouldn’t be here if she was with him,” Sherlock said ruefully, taking another drink.

“Where is she?” Mrs. Hudson asks curiously while swirling her glass absently.

“I don’t know,” Sherlock replies. “He didn’t say anything about her. Not even in the context of raising Gracie. She may not even be Mary’s child.”

“Well, what about their baby?” Mrs. Hudson brings her glass to her lips. “Gracie has an older sister.”

Sherlock sighs and looks at the floor. This might be the thing that hurts the most. He obviously had no concept of parental love or the joy a child brings before Olive, but now he can easily imagine John’s pain at losing Rosie.

“Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson says slowly, her eyes reading his every movement. “Oh, Sherlock, no.”

“Yes,” he says simply. “I don’t know when or how, but she is gone.”

“Oh, dear. Poor John,” Mrs. Hudson whispers.

A few minutes pass and Sherlock suddenly finds himself telling her all about their afternoon in the park. He starts with the moment he saw John across the way, standing like a statue and Gracie running for them. Not a detail is left unsaid and by the time he is finished, Mrs. Hudson is leaning forward in her seat with rapt attention.

“So you only talked about the girls,” she states hesitantly as if testing the water. “Nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” Sherlock answers, placing his empty glass on the floor next to his chair. “Well, he asked after Greg and Molly. I told him about you and Mycroft as well.”

“I hate to think what you said about him,” Mrs. Hudson mutters almost to herself. She looks at her wayward son with caring eyes. “Did you mention Jessie?”

“No,” Sherlock says quickly, rising to his feet and pacing. He stops at the window and gazes out over Baker Street. 

Able to tell after all these years when her boy has shut himself off, Mrs. Hudson sighs and places her glass on the side table where she found it as she stands. She walks over to the tall man and puts a hand on his arm.

“You’ll have to eventually, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson tells him gently. “He’ll have to know where Olive came from sometime.”

Sherlock’s gaze darts to hers and asks why, but he already knows the answer. There is no avoiding it. Mrs. Hudson gives him a squeeze.

“Good night, dear,” she says and walks out of the room. Sherlock hears the door to the flat open and close quietly. He turns back to the window and watches the movement on the pavement and streets. Soon he is playing his violin, the music like a soundtrack to his life. Sherlock closes his eyes to listen and consider what to do next. The image of John’s face is the only one he can see.

---

What did you think?? They finally meet and sparks fly, both in fury and fondness. Throw in a little fear, a little angst and you have the perfect Jane Johnlock story. A friend suggested I call my works Jane's Addiction, but I'm pretty sure that's under copyright. Lol. Apt description though.

Thank you all for your love and support and encouragement! I love you all. Keep you pants dry and your dreams wet, and remember, hugs not drugs. Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ain’t Sayin’ She’s a Gold Digger: Part 2

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Negan x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: Sugar baby relationship, swearing

Word Count: 3,343

Part 1

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

“Well don’t you clean up nice.” Jeffrey said as you stepped out of your apartment building in a black silk Saint Laurent top, red denim shorts, and red to black gradient Louboutin’s with an old, worn suitcase in your each of your hands that were stuffed full of clothes.

“So I think I fucked up.” You huffed as you set the bags down on the stoop and pushed a new pair of sunglasses up on top of your head.

“Oh?” He asked with a small smirk as he leaned back against his car and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you do?”

“Well… this is only bags number one and two.”

“Oh shit.” He laughed as Dana opened the door and carried out bags three and four out with her. “OK, James will get the rest, girls.”

“There’s only one more.” You huffed as you handed the bags at your feet to his driver. “And it’s one with the dresses… oh!” You gasped and lunged toward suitcase number two, which was probably as old as you were, as it ripped down the zipper and spilled half of your carefully planned and neatly folded outfits onto the stairs. “Damn it.”

“Sweetheart.” Jeff said as he lurched forward and helped you and Dana pick up your things. “Why didn’t you get new bags?”

“I just… I thought about it.” You sighed as you brushed off a dress on the bottom of the pile and set it on the seat of the car so it was out of the way. “But I had already went from a little less than a month of clothes to way over, and it was just getting so expensive, I just figured that my old suitcases would work, and I just had to buy these Louboutin’s because they have just been my wet dream…”

“Alright, well now we have to go and get you suitcases before we leave.” He said with a shake of his head as he searched your eyes. “What else did you skimp out on?”

“I made it through purchasing clothes, and the salon so she was up to my standards.” Dana said as she handed you the last bit of clothing with an evil smile. “But I know her make up’s old, and she probably got it from Walgreens.”

“Dana, shut your face.”

“I see what you mean about this one being a run for my money.” Jeff laughed as he handed his driver all of your folded clothes to put in the trunk with your bags. “Are you trying to be difficult?”

“Oh, I’m not trying…”

“She will always be difficult.” Dana said as she kissed your cheek. “Now go! I have things I want to do…”

“Make sure you shut the blinds this time if you’re gunna go dance naked in the living room some more.”

“Go to hell.” She laughed as she headed up the stairs. “Keep in touch, and you take care of my best girl.”

“Come on, sweetheart. We got some stops to make and I gotta postpone a jet.”

——

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, sweetheart.” Jeff said softly as you sat down next to him on the U-shaped couch on the Regent cruise line’s private jet.

“I feel bad I’m the reason we’re all late.”

“And I think we are right on time.” You smiled at him softly and sighed through your nose as you crossed your legs and put your hand on top of his on your knee. “So tell me about you.”

“It’s… well, it’s a long, long story.”

“Well we have a seven hour flight ahead of us.” You smirked and looked over at him as you turned on the leather toward him a bit more.

“What if I wanna be difficult?”

“Oh, I like difficult.” He chuckled as he glanced up and took two champagne glasses from the stewardess with a small nod.

“OK, well champagne is going to make being difficult, really difficult.” You laughed as you tapped your glass against his. “And I am an double orphan, that was adopted by a single mom who died of cancer, and then raised in group homes and with foster families, so I know how to be difficult.”

“You were an orphan?”

“I was an orphan.” You repeated before taking a big sip of your drink. “Well technically I still am. I was left at a police station when I was a year and a half old by my mom. And I was placed with a foster family while they tried to track her down, but they never did. She’s the lady who taught me how to play piano, my second mom, mama Beth. For the whole first month I was living with her, I didn’t say a word or make a sound, I just stared at her baby grand piano because I’d never seen one before. And eventually, she just picked my ass up, plopped me down on the chair, and taught me everything I know.”

“How long were you with her?” He asked before taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Almost ten years.” You said with the slightest hint of tears in your eyes. “Until she passed away. After that, I went to a few different group homes and other foster families that I hated until I aged out. Went to Juilliard on a scholarship and then became a bartender after that. And now I’m here.”

“And now your here.” He parroted back as he set his drink down in the cup holder on the table in front of you to buckle his seatbelt. “I was a little more fortunate in life.”

“What, not all people own cruise lines and hotels and fly in private jets?” You teased as you fastened your own seatbelt.

“Surprisingly, no.” He laughed as his eyes lit up even more. “Usually people own much bigger companies.”

“Oh, well you are slacking!” You giggled as you let him take your hand and lace his fingers with yours. “You need to step up your game, Jeffrey. Do I need to be the one to make… like a vision board or some shit to you can manifest the new dream?”

“No, we don’t need that.” He said as he slowly brushed his thumb against yours. “You know, you really are a breath of fresh air.”

“I’m not doing anything special.” You nearly whispered as you laid your head down on his shoulder for only a second, before you popped it right back up again. “Oh, there’s a big TV?!”

“There’s a bed in the back, too.” Your head whipped over toward him and your jaw dropped in shock.

“Shut up.”

“I use this plane for VIP guests that go on our more expensive cruises overseas, or VIPs that visit our hotels and want a more personal experience with our company. I’ve tried to do everything I can to make everyone’s vacation as memorable as can be.”

“Is it just VIPs that use this… oh!” You squeaked as you squeezed his hand a little tighter as the plane picked up speed and shot across the runway.

“It goes quick.” He whispered in your ear as he put his other hand on your knee. “First time flying?” You nodded your head and took a deep breath, before forcing a smile on your face.

“OK, it’s not that bad.”

“You get used to it.” He chuckled. “And usually it is only VIPs that use this. It’s a pretty penny to fuel and staff this thing…”

“Would you should consider doing a raffle every year?” You asked before you finished your champagne as the plane leveled out at your flying altitude. He looked at you questioningly at the interruption and you shrugged and set your glass down in the cup holder beside his. “Sorry. You just said that you want to make people’s experiences memorable. As someone that grew up without, who has never been on a vacation before in my life, let alone going overseas, this is a pretty amazing experience. One that I will always remember. Now imagine giving that same feeling to a couple of love sick newlyweds going on their honeymoon, or the kids of a single mother who worked three jobs after she divorced her husband to give her kids something joyful in their dark life like my friend’s mom did in middle school.” You shrugged and gave him a tight lipped smile. “I don’t know, it’s just a thought.”

“It’s actually a very good thought.” He said with a smile as he took his hand off your knee to reach up and push a piece of hair back behind your ear. He searched your eyes for a moment and shook his head. “Fuck, Dana was right about you. You really are something special.”

“Honestly, I’m just being me. I told you, I don’t know how to be your typical Baby. So you’re gonna get me just the way I am.”

“And that’s what I need right now.” He reassured as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. “I need something real. Something that isn’t putting on a mask to be what they think I want. I may hate her, but I miss my wife because she was the only person who treated me like a person and not a bank account. And I can already tell that you’re the same kinda person.”

“I mean, I won’t lie to you…” You admitted as you leaned into his touch. “The money is nice. But it’s certainly not everything. Even in the short amount of time we’ve spent together, I can tell you’re a great guy. And I’m glad I can be the one to get to know you. So I guess we can both be grateful that I met Dana.”

“How did you meet Dana anyways?”

“Well I can be grateful I got kicked out of Juilliard for that. I lost my place to live and didn’t have any money. She happened to be on a run past Juilliard as I was tossing trash bags of my shit out of the dorm, and I knocked her ass over with a bag of shoes.”

“Oh, Jesus.” He laughed as he nodded at his stewardess and sat up a little bit to snack on the extravagant charcuterie board that was set on the table in front of you.

“She obviously forgave me.” You laughed as you nodded your head at the stewardess when she held up the bottle of champagne. “And she gave me a couch to sleep on until I could get a job and get my shit together. And the rest is history.”

“Well here’s to history.” Jeff said with a smile as he held up his full glass. “And to making friends.”

“And to perfectly timed moments in time.” You added as you tapped your glass against his.

“I can definitely drink to that, sweetheart.”

——

“Ummm… how old is that phone?” Jeff asked with a laugh as he watched you take photos of London out the town car window with an iPhone 6 that had a giant crack across the screen but still worked just fine.

“As old as you are.” You teased with a glance over your shoulder before looking back out the window at the landmarks wizzing by on your way to one of Jeff’s hotels for the night before the cruise. “So about as old as the dinosaurs.” He laughed behind you as he sat forward in his spot. 

“Find an Apple store…”

“No.” You said quickly as you shook your head and turned back toward him. “No, that’s alright.”

“Just find us an Apple store.” Jeff repeated with a shake of his head as he looked back down at his phone and the dozen or so emails he had gotten when you were in the air.

“You’re being ridiculous.” You huffed as you turned away from him for a moment.

“No, you trying to take good photos on an old broken phone on your first international trip ever is ridiculous.” You looked over at his smirk and narrowed your eyes as he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “You are ridiculous, sweetheart.”

“Why?” His smirk turned into a full smile as he turned off his screen and turned toward you casually.

“I like to take care of people.” He started as he rested his arm on the back of the seat and picked up a strand of your hair to twirl around his finger. “It’s the way I was raised. When I was young, my mom used to make me work with her at a thrift store her woman’s club ran couple times a week. It was the biggest pain in the ass in my opinion because I would have much rather been out playing with my friends. But one day, one of those friends lost their house to a fire. And they needed help. And so the stuff I had been organizing just the day before became everything to my friend. It was maybe a half dozen t-shirts and maybe as many pairs of shorts, but that was all he had. And it made me wanna do more. But as a kid there was only so much I could do. So from that day forward, I did everything I could to help people in ways they couldn’t do themselves.”

“So that’s why you went into hospitality?”

“Part of the reason. The other part was the money. And when I met and married Hillarie, I had someone I could take care of, so my philanthropy kinda fell to the way side… but after she left, I just…”

“You’re just missing something.” You interjected with a smile as you pat his thigh gently. “I get it. This kinda makes a lot more sense now, you and me… Oh, Tiffany!” You said as you pointed out the window behind him at the building you had just drove past. “That place always has the cutest things. I can never stop myself from browsing… Sorry, that was rude…”

“You can just stop here.” Jeff said as he gestured to an open parking spot. “I do think a nice Tiffany necklace would look great with this outfit of yours before we find you a decent international phone for the month we’re here.”

“OK, let the record show that I’m not a fan of being spoiled like this.” You said as you got out of the car behind him with a giant smile. “But at the same time, the broke girl that spends way to much money on fashion magazines is dying.”

“Listen to that second voice.” He laughed as he put his hand on the small of your back and pulled the door to the designer department store named Selfridges open for you. “Spend the money.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“This ship is absolutely breath taking.” You sighed as you walked with Jeffrey so he could double check all of the work that was put into the ship before its maiden voyage. “Every single detail is… it’s just beyond words.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Jeff said with a smile as he brushed his thumb across your back. “I wanted to make sure, even though it looks very similar to one of the line’s other ships, that it would still be an unrivaled experience for the guests.”

“Well I think you got it spot on.” You leaned into his side and looked up at him with a playful smile. “You know you’re gunna have to play bocce with me.”

“I will play bocce with you.” He agrees as he lead you into a lounge you hadn’t seen yet because you had been distracted by the culinary arts kitchen and picking one of the classes to take so Jeff knew it was a worth wile experience to have. “But you have to play for me first.”

“Oh, my God.” You gasped as you walked over to the gorgeous grand piano in the middle of the room. “This is a Steinway.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?” He asked as he opened the keys cover for you and gestured to the bench.

“You have no idea. We had one of these at Juilliard for showcases, but I never…” You shook your head as you gingerly danced your fingers across a few keys and slowly sat down on the bench. “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

“So you want me to play bocce with you or what?” He asked as he nodded at one of the bartenders who were preparing the bar for when the boarding process began in a less than an hour. With a smile, you nodded your head, turned your attention to the black and white keys, and started playing ‘Clair de Lune’ by Debussy. 

Just like you had the very first time you played a note, you were instantly lost in the sound. It took you away to another place, where everything was much simpler and black and white. It was like a cloud lifted you off the bench and took you a million miles away, cradling you and lightening the dark parts of your orphaned soul that had been marred by the system that failed so many children before and after you, and a society that mostly fended for themselves. The piano spoke in ways you knew you would ever be able to, expressing itself much more fluently than you even believed possible.

As he leaned on the bar and sipped on his scotch, Jeff felt something he had never felt with a Sugar Baby before. A desire that he had assumed had all but disappeared when he caught Hillarie with another man. Part of him wanted to snuff it out as fear overwhelmed him, but the other part, the much bigger part, wanted you more than he had even wanted Hillarie. You had a fire in you that he could already feel warmed the darkest reaches of his soul, and a mischievousness to you that made him want to get in a little trouble just for the fun of it. He loved how easy it was to talk to you, and how you checked all of your inhibitions at the door, which made him wish he was able to do the same thing.

‘No one would want to be with some… old man like you.’ Even six years later, Hillarie’s words still cut like a knife straight through the heart, reminding him exactly why dating Sugar Baby’s was the best thing for him. It had been the same script that played through his head whenever he had moments like this. Moments where he thought he’d be able to move on in life and find someone that could stand spending any length of time with him for any reason other than his money. Which is the exact reason why using his money to pay for company that otherwise wouldn’t want to be with him anyways was the only way to go at his age. He startled the slightest bit when the bartenders beside him clapped when you finished your song, the sound pushing his thoughts away for the time being, and he joined them as well as you turned on the bench and blushed.

“Oh, stop.” You laughed as you slipped your shoes back on and stood up. “That’s an easy one.”

“Well, I’m so glad I thought long ago that it would be a good idea to put a piano in the suite we’re in too.” Jeff said as he set his glass down and stuck out his hand for yours.

“Can we just go see it?” You asked with a smile as you let go of his hand to lace your arm with his. “For like one song length of time. And then maybe go down to the pool to people watch for a while before dinner?” He smiled and nodded his head as he led you to the elevators to go up to the fourteenth deck.

“That sounds like an absolutely fucking perfect idea, sweetheart.”

Part 3

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 17

                 A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter 17

Sebastian Meyer spun his desk chair around in time to see his secretary drop a newspaper onto his desk. She had the paper folded back to the society section where Danny’s face was beaming as she shook hands with Boris Johnson, the Prime Minister of England. He felt like someone punched him in the stomach and lowered the receiver to its cradle without warning to the caller. “What in God’s name is she doing?” He looked up in time to appreciate the swinging ass of his secretary before the door closed behind her. Sebastian read every word associated with the story and decided his mother was having a last fling before she surrendered the reigns to him this year. Let her have some fun, he thought, a nostalgic party to remember her glory days when she was the seat of power and reigning queen of the socialites. He could give a shit because nothing could stop him now. The purchase of a sizeable chunk of stock was in the bag after his manufactured bromance with a major investor. Sebastian did his best to undermine his mother’s stronghold and convince the man she was suffering from dementia. He was sure this sale would put him close to majority shareholder, so his take over was within reach. Still, the picture gave him an unsettled feeling because she had not surfaced in almost a year. Why now? The crew had worked all night to put the boat right after the party, with orders from Darius not to report for duty until noon the following day. Jamie took advantage of the quiet morning and trained Danny and himself in the gym before swimming laps to cool off. He hated the weather in London. Hot, sticky, and draining.

Adso’s loud purring cut through the fog of Claire’s dream and she felt him head-butting her face. He stretched out beside her and kept his paws on her face until she opened her eyes. Claire rolled to her side and with a finger under his chin pulled his head up to look at her. “Ok my darling, I’m up. Is it food you want?” The door to their deck slid open for some fresh air and was closed immediately to keep humid air from filling the room. Tonight they will weigh anchor, set a course for Paris, and her intimate time with Jamie would be on hold again. She stretched and smiled at their glutenous sexual pursuits over the past week and figured she would survive the three days apart. She couldn’t wait to get to Paris and see Javier and Joseph again. They were invited to the party and would stay on board to Athens and then fly home. It felt like an eternity since they were together. Darius called a meeting of the crew and ran down the teams, shifts, and duties on their three-day trip to Paris. Maia was the last one onto the bridge and noticed Cici did not move away from Darius when she came in. She stood across from them and quietly listened to the meeting, however she remembered not a word. When the crew muttered “aye, captain,” Maia was deep in her memory, adding up the lingering looks and odd behaviors observed in Cici. “Maia? You’re a million miles away.” Maia looked around at the empty bridge and blushed. “I’m closer than you think. I gotta go.” Black Rolls Royce automobiles pulled up to the offices of the Harbor Master all day long so someone in the employ of a party guest could deliver a handwritten message thanking Danny for a lovely evening. When Darius requested permission to make way, he was told a boat was coming to deliver mail. Eighty-five guests sent a thank you note, and Danny read every one of them. The anchors were raised just as a thunderstorm ripped open to soak Ethan and Steven, who gripped the slippery hull ladder with one hand while they guided the chain with the other. Darius watched the CCTV monitors closely until they were back on deck. The other crew members were pulling furniture and lounge chairs under the deck ceiling and snapping waterproof covers over everything. When all of them were back inside, Darius and Jamie turned the yacht away from London toward open water. Danny looked out the expansive windows at the squall coming in on the port side and told Claire and Maia to close all the windows. Claire ran to her rooms and called for Adso, usually on her lap at this time of the day, getting more frantic by the second. She ran around her room calling for him and spun around to see him sitting on her bed yawning. She picked him up and carried him out to the table where they were working. Darius looked at the color of Jamie’s face and decided he finally found his friend's weakness. “You look a bit green around the edges, friend. The trash can is empty if you need …” Jamie ran for the head and over the next two hours, purged his system, in one way or another. Darius was waiting to give him a patch for seasickness, but Jamie couldn’t spend more than a couple of minutes on the bridge before dashing back to the head. On one of his brief visits, Darius pressed something sticky behind his ear. Jamie made a run for the bathroom again and Darius chuckled. After four hours of being tossed around on an angry sea, Darius could see the margin of the storm and pushed their speed to get out from under it. When Maia and Steven arrived to take their shift, Jamie almost crawled out of the elevator and got to their rooms to lie down. Claire was reading and jumped off the bed when she saw her green-faced love stagger in. She pulled his clothes off and propped him up on pillows, then went to the galley for soup and water. The chef was preparing food for the next day when she told him how sick Jamie was. He smiled and fixed up a remedy for seasickness and suggested broth to restore him. “He won’t like the taste of the remedy, so tell him to pinch his nose and swallow. Best to have a bucket nearby, just in case.” Claire carried the tray to their room and Jamie did whatever she told him to. Then he laid down and passed out. Jamie reported to the bridge the next morning feeling much better except for sore stomach muscles. He kissed Claire as they exchanged places and the familiar rotation was back in full swing. Claire worked with Danny during the day, getting her to remember the faces that would board in Paris, and Maia did research on the guests. When they dropped anchor in Paris, it felt like they had hardly moved. The night of the party, Claire and Maia flanked Danny again at the entrance to the grand saloon and fed her information about guests who were approaching. When Claire saw Javier and Joseph in the greeting line, she broke away to throw her arms around them. Javier held her at arm’s length and smiled at her gown and hair. He was bursting with pride, as was Joseph. Claire introduced them to Danny and Maia and walked them into the saloon to find Jamie. Jamie’s smile was brilliant as he shook hands with the men. Claire promised to catch up in a bit and went back to Danny greeting guests. It was a stifling evening and even with the air conditioners blowing Danny was perspiring in her jacket, so she took it off to reveal the sleeveless gown underneath. Jamie caught sight of her and beamed with pride at her smooth and shapely arms. Danny looked in his direction and smiled back. At one o’clock in the morning, Claire dropped onto the couch between Javier and Joseph and sighed. Danny smiled her gratitude at the three of them. “I owe you a big thank you for talking with the French-speaking guests. I never saw any of you sit down all night and you were all so charming!” “I left you to fly solo tonight and you knocked it out of the park Danny.” “I wasn’t alone, I had the darling Maia with me much of the night.” Claire put her hand on her heart and lipped ‘thank you’ to Maia. She noticed Ethan and Steven had changed into their day uniforms and were standing by. “It would appear we are moving the boat to our mooring so it’s time to change and be useful.” She kissed Javier and Joseph goodnight and then Danny, telling her to rest well. Danny looked up at Maia and tapped her other cheek for a goodnight kiss and they all went to their rooms. Claire clipped the radio to her shorts and heard the crew members give their location and readiness to the bridge. She pulled a t-shirt over her head and pushed her hair into a ponytail. “Claire, are you close? You’re on the aft deck to catch the stern ropes.” “Yes, had a devil of a time getting that dress off, but I’m almost there.” “Thank you for the visual now move your ass, we’re ready.” Claire rolled her eyes and jogged to the aft deck to catch the enormous ropes used to tie the yacht to the dock. When the anchor chains were quiet again, Steven popped up on the ladder and helped with the remaining ropes before descending again when they dropped anchor at the mooring. Claire was grateful for the hard-working crew who would put the boat in order before morning. She was exhausted. “Good job everybody, captain out.” Maia came to the bridge in her pajamas, eating dry cereal out of the box. Darius was writing in his log and kept looking over at her soft pants riding her hips four inches below her belly button. When she lifted the box above her mouth, he watched her breasts bounce under her pj top. “Done!” Darius picked her up as she threw the empty box into the trash on the way to their rooms. As before, Danny held a brunch the next day for Javier, Joseph, Danny, and the four friends. It was a beautiful afternoon in sunny Paris, and Darius did the unthinkable. He gave the crew the day off, postponing their departure until the next day. In New York, Sebastian took the folded paper from his secretary and his eyes bugged out at the picture of Danny in a sleeveless gown toasting a major stockholder and oil investor. “What the bloody hell is going on?” “Get Marvin on the phone, interrupt him, tell him it’s an emergency!” “Marvin! Tell me Johnson is ready to sell before I lose my mind! My mother is up to something and I don’t like it.” Sebastian listened for two minutes, heard his financial manager say Johnson had taken his shares off the table, and the phone slammed into the cradle so hard it shattered. “Goddammit!” He unplugged the phone base and threw it against the wall. The next morning, Jamie and Darius prepared to weigh anchor as the crew covered deck furniture and stowed planters in the plant garage. Ethan and Steven raised the anchors and the mighty engines came to life. Javier and Joseph sipped cold champagne on the deck and marveled at the teamwork required to get them underway. Claire, Danny, and Maia joined them to watch the historic sights and beautiful buildings glide by on their way down the Seine. Claire had mixed feelings about anchoring off Greece again because so much had happened there. Thankfully, there was no party to prepare for and they could act like tourists for the three days Darius and Maia would be onshore visiting family. She told herself to relax and enjoy the time with her godfather. The third night at sea, Danny planned a special dinner on the upper deck for Claire and her family, Jamie, Darius, and Maia. They were served by the crew, and the chef prepared a glorious meal for them to enjoy. Many stories were shared after dinner, and Claire watched Danny talk animatedly with the others. Her jawline was still defined and her neck showed no drooping skin, in fact, she was aging quite well but no one would know it because her shoulder-length hair kept her best parts hidden. She decided it was time for Danny to emerge and wished she had thought of this while still in Paris. She would talk to Danny at her first opportunity, which was later that evening when she was reading in the saloon along with Javier and Joseph. “Danny, I would love to treat you to a new hairstyle. What do you say to a girl’s day out in Athens?” “I am quite comfortable with my hair, as awful as it is. I’m not comfortable risking a bad haircut. How about facials and pedicures?” “Okay, that would be fine, I guess. I’m on shift in the wheel room in two hours, so I’m going to lie down for a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Claire needed Jamie’s help for this and found him watching a rerecorded game in their room. She snuggled up to him and whispered she needed a favor. The game flicked off before her sentence was finished. “I am trying to talk Danny into a new hairstyle, something more modern, but she’s afraid of having a bad haircut until it grows out. You could draw her face and put different hairstyles on her, right?” “There is a very high price for such a service Sassenach, but I’d be happy to break it down into installments if you like.” He pulled her down on the mattress and kissed her until she forgot who Danny was. Through the night, while Claire was on shift, Jamie sat in his studio and rendered Danny’s face with three hairstyles he found on the internet. He jogged to their bed to grab four hours of sleep before his last shift of this leg. Darius was getting more uptight by the minute as they cruised toward Athens. He and Maia would visit their family for three days, so Jamie assumed this mood was family-related. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, it’s none of my business, but I’ll ask anyway. When we were at the jewelry store in Jamaica buying the necklace for Maia, you said you had two grand to your name, remember?” Darius shot him a dark look. “What did you do with your earnings then?” “You couldn’t be more right, it’s none of your business.” “I think I know the answer, but I’d like to hear it from you.” “Me and Maia have all we need while on the yacht, so I send the bulk of my pay home, to my family and hers. The economy is poor, very few good jobs, low pay, no assistance. My two brothers live in the same house as my sister, her husband, and their baby. They need every penny.” “I always knew you were a good man, Darius. What are you forty, forty-five years old?” “I’m twenty-seven asshole, and I don’t need a lecture about robbing Maia from the cradle. ” Jamie ducked as wadded paper was launched at his head and the bantering took the edge off of Darius’s mood. The anchors hit the seabed close to Athens, where the fishing was good for both pole and speargun. Darius and Maia said goodbye and got into a boat brought by Darius’s brother and it sped away. Javier and Joseph were gleefully setting up their fishing lines and sipping beer in chilled glasses. They now had a partner in crime. The chef was crazy about fishing and kept the men within arms reach of food and beer while they enjoyed the day. Jamie felt soft arms come around his waist from behind and twisted his body to put Claire under the shower water. He kissed her under the stream and felt a ravenous hunger ignite in his groin. They could take their time today, he realized, and broke his kiss to wash her hair. “It’s time for a whisky, love. Be a good girl and stay here, I have some things to discuss with you.” When Jamie left to fetch the whisky bottle, Claire went out to the deck with her nail kit and put a fresh coat of polish on her fingernails. Jamie set a whisky in front of her and watched the process with mild interest. He stood behind her and pulled the string holding her bikini top on, letting it fall to the deck, then he carried her to a lounge. Claire kept her hands in the air so he wouldn’t smudge the polish, and Jamie smiled wickedly at her. “Let me pamper you, love. Give me your foot.” He found all kinds of creams and scrubs in her caddy and settled on a soothing gel that he applied to her feet, calves, and thighs, covering an inch at a time very slowly. He massaged her inner thighs until she was panting, taking care not to touch her most intimate places. This was about seduction, and that required a soft touch. Pulling her foot into his lap, he sat down on the deck and held up bottles of polish until she picked one. The hours he had watched her manicure her toes paid off when he brought out each tool for cuticles, filing, and smoothing. When the paint rolled onto her toenails, he could see her thighs quivering slightly and smiled with his bowed head. When the first foot was done, he licked from her knee to her core, pulling her bikini bottom to the side and pulling his soft, wet tongue up her fold. The fabric was returned to normal and he grabbed the other foot for the same treatment while she panted and tried to slow her heart rate. It took an excruciatingly long time to paint five toenails and drink two shots of whisky. Claire was growling with need and gave her love a warning look to finish what he started. It took another hour but finish he did and they curled up on the lounge for a happy siesta. By mid-afternoon, Claire found Javier, Joseph, and the chef, drunk, sunburned, and deliriously happy. To her surprise, Danny had joined them and was holding two of their poles with lines in the water. She greeted Claire with a happy smile, so excited to be fishing. “Claire! Look, I am fishing for my supper, isn’t that fantastic? I haven’t caught a single fish yet, but I am determined.” Javier looked at Joseph and asked if he baited the hooks to which Joseph raised his shoulders and giggled. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Give me a pole Danny so I can check your hook.” Soon there was a spinning lure attached to the line and cast far into the water. Claire handed the pole back to Danny with a warning that the fish were large and might pull the pole out of her hands if she wasn’t ready. Danny squealed with delight and watched the water with anticipation. Claire baited the other hook and sat next to Danny, trying to ignore the loud snoring of the three men who were now sleeping in the shade. Claire’s pole jerked violently, and she heard the line running out as the fish dove deep to get away from the hook. She counted five seconds and pushed the lock on the reel, almost losing the pole when it jerked back hard. Danny dropped her pole in her excitement to help Claire, and it jerked on the deck when another fish swallowed her hook and then tried to get away. Fortunately, the pole was pulled along the deck sideways and got caught by rail mountings so they didn’t lose it. Both women were screaming and laughing, trying to reel in the first fish. Jamie’s head jerked up hearing the chaos outside. His book forgotten, he ran to the deck and watched Claire and Danny pull the same pole, losing themselves in laughter. He grabbed the other pole and demonstrated how to reel and pull the fish, but they were hopelessly lost in their fun. He felt the fish release his line and swim to freedom while he reeled in the hook and set the pole aside to help Claire. From behind Claire, he moved her hands, holding them still while the fish ran the line out again, and then pulling up sharply to set the hook deeper. Danny held onto the pole like it was a lifeline while she bent over laughing. When the fish was exhausted, Jamie had them walk the pole and fish along the side deck where he could net the beautiful sunfish that would feed them that night. Claire and Danny jumped around the aft deck, lost in their celebration. Jamie made quick work of gutting the fish and cutting away the parts that were unusable. The chef roared from the side deck to stop as Jamie was about to throw the head far from the boat. “That head will make the best fish head soup!” The chef took command of the fillets and head and left them for the galley, very excited at their catch. Danny showed Claire how to wash with soap and then cut lemon sections to rid the skin of the fishy smell. Danny went to lie down until dinner and the crew was cleaning the main saloon, so Claire went outside to fetch her godfather and Joseph off the deck. They went down to their rooms to tend their sunburned skin and nap. Jamie pulled Claire to their rooms and closed the door before pushing a button that pulled the blackout shades down the massive windows. He pulled Claire to the bed and suggested a movie to which she happily agreed. “This is a classic that I found in the video library upstairs. I think you will really like it.” Claire cuddled up to Jamie when the movie started and was well into the story before it suddenly heated up with erotic scenes between two lovers. She couldn’t pull her eyes away as the characters showed body parts she didn’t expect to see. Jamie watched her face flush as the scenes became more erotic and he chuckled, suggesting they watch something else. “No! I mean, don’t you want to see how it ends?” “As you say, love.” Claire lost herself in the beautiful actors and for the first time, watched a woman making love as her breasts bounced with the pounding. The woman’s inner thighs looked so soft as she spread them for the man’s mouth moving toward her core. When the sex got rough, Claire’s panting was giving her arousal away. “Should we find another, sweetheart?” Jamie pulled her in front of him, between his legs, and pressed her back against his chest in a relaxed posture. Claire was hypnotized by the sex scenes and hardly noticed Jamie pulling her feet to the sides to open her legs. When he touched her, it was like a firebomb to kindling and he gave her all the thrills she had just seen. When they collapsed, gasping for breath, Claire was panting out “how” and “why” and certain unintelligible words making Jamie chuckle. “It takes a bit of work the second time in the same day, love.” “Wow, that was… wow.” After another shower, they finally stumbled to the table for dinner and Jamie was still chuckling at her deer in the headlight eyes. She needed help to come back to the here and now, even though he loved her expression and blush. “Sassenach, how do you like the fish you girls caught today?” “Hmm?” “The fish, how do you like it?” Claire looked at her plate like she just realized she was chewing food. “It’s wonderful! I really love it.” She and Danny started talking about the next party, and Jamie knew she was back on earth. He missed his starry-eyed wife instantly. They shared a closeness for the rest of the evening and he cuddled her in their bed that night wanting to hold her close all night long, but that was not going to happen. Jamie’s eyes would not close, his breathing would not deepen, and his mind felt like a pinball game in play. He rolled quietly out of bed and made his way to the studio. A painting was clamoring to get out, and he felt the crushing responsibility to get it right.   Sunrise filled the studio with light as the third canvas was sent to the failure-closet, so named that very night because it had not happened to him before. He went to his sketch pad to work out the dimensional issues and used colored pencils to test the color differences. If he couldn’t find the skill to paint it accurately, he wouldn’t do it. It was that important. Jamie knew Claire would be up soon and he wasn’t ready to share this picture yet, so he put his drawings away and put the five-lads on the easel, then he went to snuggle with his wife. Claire hugged Javier for a full minute, and then Joseph. She wiped a tear off her cheek and smiled bravely wishing them a good flight back to Paris. They both turned in their seat and waved as the taxi pulled away. “Darius and Maia return tomorrow and then we weigh anchor for strange places Sassenach. Perhaps the three of us sit on the deck today and fish. What do you say?” Danny jumped to fetch whatever Claire needed that afternoon. She could feel her melancholy, and her maternal instincts took over. At least until the first pole nearly bent in half from a monster fish that latched onto Jamie’s hook. The women abandoned their poles to render aid that was not needed, and Jamie tried to reach his pocket when he felt his phone vibrate. It was hopeless reaching through the women’s glee, so he held his pole out to the side with one hand and clicked to answer the call. “What the hell is going on over there?” “Two excited women helping me boat a fish, but it could be long gone by now because I can’t feel the pole move anymore. What’s up?” Jamie listened to the instructions given, “on my way.” Handing the pole to Claire, he excused himself to tender Darius back to the yacht, and Claire looked confused when the pole was no longer bouncing. It was obvious Darius was hurt and Jamie helped him into the tender without commenting on his bulging eye that was swollen shut, his bloody mouth, or his arm held tightly to his side. “Hospital?” Darius shook his head, “boat.” Darius crept into the saloon hoping to make it upstairs before anyone saw him but the stairs were impossible. He turned around to use the elevator and heard Claire’s voice as he winced from his broken ribs. “Don’t you fucking move, Darius.” She led him to the galley by his good hand and pulled his sunglasses off while he voiced his complaint. Claire grabbed the emergency kit, a frozen steak, and led him up to his rooms. He couldn’t lay down because the position drove the broken ribs into his lungs so Claire cleaned the wounds as best she could. “I didn’t know you had such a crush on me, Claire.” “Shut up, you idiot. What happened to you?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jamie found Danny cleaning up the fishing gear and looking worried. “He probably told you to leave him alone, and while that works most of the time, it will not work today. Maia knows what to do so get her back here so she can help him. Jamie, please do this.” Jamie was naturally resistant to Danny’s gift, but he heard the edge in her voice and reached for his phone. Twenty minutes later, a wide-eyed Maia was climbing into the tender asking how bad the injuries were. She interrupted his explanation saying she could swim faster than he was going so he pushed the tender to its limit and soon they were flying across the water. Maia could hear Claire arguing with Darius as she approached their rooms and kindly asked Claire to wait downstairs. She glanced at Darius and saw his tears of pain and frustration. So she helped Claire exit the room and locked the door behind her. Claire could hear them talking and ripping packages of emergency supplies. She was terrified and crying, having never seen anyone fresh from a brutal fight. Jamie put his arm around her and led her downstairs where the three of them waited in the saloon to hear more about his injuries. Maia cleaned the wounds, wrapped his ribcage, and slapped his good hand when he tried to loosen the ace bandage constricting his breath. She pushed a pain pill into his mouth and moved her finger along the base of his teeth searching for a loose wiggle. Ten minutes later he could lie down, gingerly. She knelt next to the bed and put her head down, fighting the tears she didn’t want Darius to see. His good hand stroked her hair, and he whispered to her that everything was alright. When she gave in to the sobs, he held her as best he could and reminded her he was the captain with a job to do and she was expected to help him for a little while. “Darius, of course I will. I’ll pull the boat with my bare hands if you ask me to!” She held his hand against her cheek and searched his face, feeling relief when he smiled at her. “It’s alright,” he said, stroking her hair. “My face scared you, but you patched me up with a steady hand, and now you need to cry a bit. It’s okay to cry, and then I wonder if you might tell the others what happened so we can all shake it off and depart in two days.” Maia could see he was asleep and covered him before going downstairs. Her eyes were puffy from crying and nothing would change that, so she walked into the saloon and told them what happened. “Darius sends most of his pay to his family and mine. His sister lives in a small house with her baby and husband, and Darius’s two brothers moved in a year ago because they were homeless. Darius said the house was a horrible mess. The front door had been kicked in, glass was missing from windows, the baby was crawling through filth. His sister is afraid of the brothers who spent all the money Darius has sent. Her husband leaves on Monday to work on Mykonos and he is gone all week. Darius ordered them out of the house and called the husband, telling him to walk off the job and come home to protect his family. Darius said he would cover his pay. They jumped him and beat the shit out of him.” Maia looked up, “sorry for my language. He has a job to do and I will help him. We leave in two days, nothing has changed.” Danny held her hand up to stop Maia and seemed to struggle with the right words. “I know it’s hard for the four of you to accept my gift, and I don’t talk about it much, but I have to tell you something. Darius suffered an impact to his abdomen, a kick I think, and his spleen is bleeding. I can see it bleeding and it might have to come out. If I could get close to him I will know for sure. This could threaten his life, so we shouldn’t wait. Please wake him and ask if I can see him, Maia.” “C’mon.” When Darius didn’t wake up right away, Maia got scared and shouted at him. She squeezed his hand and apologized. “Is the boat on fire, sweets?” “No. Darius, were you kicked in the stomach?” “No.” He closed his eyes again and Maia muttered about Danny being wrong as she walked to the door. “Maia, yes, I was kicked in the stomach, several times. Why?” “Danny needs to see you. Something about your spleen is bleeding. Can I let her in, please?” “Yes.” Danny entered and reached for his hand, looking concerned. He watched her. “I can’t tell if it’s going to stop. We can go to the hospital now or I can check you later.” “Check later if you would, I don’t like hospitals.” “Alright, dear Darius.”   Danny left and Maia sat on the floor and put her head near his on the mattress. She stroked his arm until she was sure he was asleep again. “I love you so much, Darius.” “I love you too, sweet one.” Jamie and Claire finally said goodnight and Danny went to the elevator and her rooms. All through the night, she monitored Darius, sneaking into their room to lay her hand on his foot. On one visit, she put a blanket around Maia and pulled the covers around Darius. Her last visit was at five o’clock in the morning. She kept her hand on his foot because she wanted to be sure. “You did it, young man,” she whispered, “no splenectomy for you, so kindly put your cape back on, and save the day… when you’re ready.” Danny was exhausted and desperately wanted to lie down on her bed. She rode the elevator down to her floor and held the wall as she walked. She was proud of Darius for his decision to heal. Later, Jamie spent some time with Darius and he was particularly sarcastic and funny because Darius begged him to stop making him laugh. Jamie decided that was enough painful levity for one day and left, grabbing Maia in the hall. “Maia, I have spent too much time with Darius and I don’t want to wake him up. He asked me to alert the authorities that his sister should be alone in the house waiting for her husband, but he didn’t give me the address.” Jamie pulled a notepad out of his pocket and had a pen poised to write it down. He started to move down the hall like he was in a hurry and raised his eyebrows at her. She gushed the address out and then went into their rooms. Jamie pushed the pad into his pocket and went downstairs with a face that could murder a man just looking at it. After dinner, Jamie pulled Claire into their rooms and made passionate love to her. She mumbled something about her jello legs as she slipped into her dreams. He waited until she was deep enough not to feel him roll out of bed or hear him dress. He jumped in the tender and paddled halfway to shore to avoid waking anyone. He had a mission to complete before they left in the morning. Danny stood in the dark saloon and watched Jamie paddle the tender. She was conflicted about raising the alarm or letting it happen. She whispered, “forgive me, Jamie,” and went back to bed. Jamie leaned against a large tree and dozed for half the night, waiting for the brothers. He would bet his last dollar they hadn’t left and Jamie knew the husband would not be back until the next day. His head jerked up hearing the drunken laughter of two men approaching. They staggered toward the sister’s house and Jamie cleared his throat to make them turn around.   One of them addressed him in what sounded like gutter slang and Jamie smiled like an altar boy and pulled his wallet out. The men approached so Jamie lowered the wallet so they would see the large bills he thumbed through as he talked about paying them off to stay away from the sister. He was not getting through to them so he said, “Darius,” and waited. One of them shoved a fist in Jamie’s face.   “We take your money and drop you in the deep ocean. No worry, you be dead.”   Jamie’s eyes were wide with fright and he backed into the tree with his hands in a defensive position. They were smiling at each other coming toward him when Jamie suddenly stood upright and laughed, stopping them in their tracks.   “Oh! I.. I know who you two are, you beat the shit out of my friend, your own brother!” He was still laughing while the men shot glances at each other. “You know, Darius said you guys fight dirty.” More laughter. “What a relief! Because so do I.”   Jamie jumped up and grabbed a tree limb, driving his feet into one man’s face. He dropped to the ground and pulled his jacket off showing the second man his sleeveless t-shirt and the bulging muscles in his arms. Before the man could run, he grabbed his long greasy hair, and drove his knee into his back, flipped him around and pummeled his face until the man collapsed on the ground.   Jamie grabbed the last of the rope he brought and wound it around the man’s legs. Both of them were tied to different trees with no possibility of escape. Jamie hoped the husband would be the first to find them. He pushed a note under the ropes and put his jacket back on. He had a naked wife waiting for him in a big warm bed. He headed for the tender. Danny thrashed in her bed, having one hell of a nightmare. She saw men fighting and one of them run away. Suddenly, the man stopped and looked directly at her, “it’s alright Danny, I won, rest now,” came the echo of his disembodied voice. Her eyes flew open and she sat up in her bed, gasping for air. She felt the presence of Jamie above her and sighed her relief as she dropped back to her pillows, feeling much better.

[guigz1-coldwar]

New chapter for 'Overlord: Cold War' is out!

Chapter Summary: Zasha & Yirina arrives in Turkey with Adler where they meet old friends as someone is reliving a traumatizing event...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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4th June 1984, 00H20

Zasha Smirnov, once known as 'Bell, MI6

Arriving at the CIA backed-up airfield in Van, Turkey

"Yiri, you're sure about this?" I was near her car, the door widely open as I was having my left arm above it, looking at Portnova on the driver's seat, the scene happening in the street near our apartment.

"Zasha, don't worry, I'll be fine," She replied to me, rolling her eyes around to look at me. "As I told you, I'm just going to buy some groceries and pass to the pet shop for that cat we saw, remember?" She said with a little smile, her left arm on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, but are we sure about the cat?" I asked, scratching the back of my head. "I like cats but in our place, do you think that...she will be happy?" I demanded, knowing that our apartment wasn't going to be enough for that cat.

"Of course, it's not because we live in an apartment that we can't have a cat," She told me honestly before raising an eyebrow to me by curiosity. "Tell me, are you afraid that a cute cat is going to take over you?" She suggested.

"No, I...it's not like that, love," I protested, putting my left hand above my heart. "I'm not jealous of a cat," I added.

"Mmhm..." She mumbled, shaking her head by looking at me, thinking that I was lying in my voice. "We'll see that when I will come back with her," She announced, turning the key in the contact to start the car engine. "Kiss," She said, causing me to lean at her for a kiss on the lips.

"You take care, okay?" I advised after the kiss, feeling better with it.

"As always, Zeze," She whispered before I moved away from the door to let her close it.

She waved at me with her left hand and kissing me with her other hand as I waved at her back before she looked away from me to start the car and drive away from the parking place, engaging the car on the street, me staying on the sidewalk to look at her going away and still staying until her car was out of my sight. I didn't move my eyes away from the car as it was stopped at a red light before it could go...

But then, as her car was in the middle of the intersection, another car at high-speed hit her right on the left side of the car and spinning Yiri's car away before crashing into a pole as for me, I started running to reach Portnova, my heart beating faster than I ever did, the panic taking over and impossible for me to hear my own voice crying her name, only able to hear the sound of chimes in my ears during my run...

"Zasha?" My mind suddenly finds itself awakening, feeling my shoulder getting moved as a sign to wake me up. "Zasha? Hey, Zasha, you're here?" I opened up my eyes to see none other than Grigoriev, standing right next to me, trying to wake me as I was on that seat in the plane.

"Grigoriev?" I muttered, my voice slowly coming back to normal.

"Are you okay?" She asked me, removing her hands off me.

"Should I? No," I replied, looking away from her to peek my eyes through the porthole, seeing that the plane was no longer in the air, landed on a runway in the dark, only enlighten by some blue & red lights along with it. "Been trying to forget but as you see, I can't," I said, going up from my seat and grabbing my bag on the seat in front of me.

"Did you think about...her again?" She presumed and I sadly nodded, my eyes staying on the bag. "Dammit, I told you to..."

"Told me what? Forget?" I cut her harshly, turning around to look at her. "I can't forget her, Grigoriev," I exclaimed, pointing my index finger at her, taking the bag in my other hand. "Easy to say, hard to do, especially when it's for me," I told her as she was looking down at her feet. "Was it the same with you when it was about Keller...and about Maxis?"

"Zasha, don't," She warned me, raising her fingers at me along with her head. "You're going on slippery ground with that, don't you dare to continue!" She threatened me, using a rather angry voice before she looked away, through the porthole. "I'm also trying to forget, you're not fucking alone in that case so don't try to provoke on that terrain," She added before she moved away from me to take her own bag at her seat.

"Uhm, I'm sorry, Gri-"

"Yeah, I know that," She cut me harshly as I did seconds ago, grabbing her bag in her hands. "It's just, I don't want to be angry but don't mention to me Greta & Samantha's name, just don't," She demanded, a calmer tone in her voice.

"Understood," I complied with her demand, realizing that it was my fault if I put her in that state before I looked around the plane. "Where's Adler?" I asked her.

"The big curious CIA guy?" She presumed and I obviously nodded to her. "He's awaiting for us outside," She gave me the answer before she gestured me to follow her.

With my bag in hands, I started to follow her as she was the nearest one of the door leading to the outside of the plane and when I approached it as it was wide open, there was something that came with us during our flight...and that was that cold heat that I always felt since days in London and now, it was here...guess that some things don't actually change depending on where I am...the same weather...

At the ground, Adler was there, waiting for us to get down on the ground, still seeing him with a pack of cigarettes in his left hand that he put back in his jacket after he got a single cigarette out of the pack to put it between his lips, a black bag at his feet and looking away from us before he turned around at hearing the first footsteps from us, going down the little stairs of the plane...

"Welcome to Turkey, this is going to be the base that we will use to organize the operation," He announced to us, his gestures mostly focused towards me than Grigoriev. "You're alright, Zasha?" He asked me.

"Yeah...I'm good," I lied to him, Grigoriev giving me an eye knowing well that I was lying in my voice.

"Good, that's what I want to hear," He exclaimed with a little smile before he decides to tap me over my left shoulder like that without any shame in a friendly way...very strange from him...

"Let me guess, are we the only MI6 agents around?" Grigoriev spoke up, her eyes focused on the big hangar that was having lights on.

"Yes, this is a big American operation but I needed Zasha and now, you're here too," Adler replied to her, moving away from me to take his bag in his hands, blowing some smoke out of his mouth. "And to add to that, some people are sharing a common point with you two, if I guess right," He said, starting to walk away from us as we start to follow him

"What common point?" I demanded, raising an eyebrow at him despite him not seeing it.

"Let's just say that some of the people I'm teaming you two with are former Perseus agents," He revealed to us, my eyes all going wide as Grigoriev looked at me, confused at hearing this. "There's two of them at the moment and a third one will come soon later this day," He continued as we arrived inside the hangar that was mostly transformed into a preparation place, having desks, chairs all around the hangar. "I presume that you worked with Perseus before, right, Grigoriev?"

"Well, I did work with Perseus but it was only for a short time 4 years ago," Grigoriev responded at him, sounding unsure of telling that to him as Adler stopped in front of a desk with a lot of paperwork on it, putting his bag at its feet. "I know that Zasha worked with them too but that's it, except the few run-ups I had with Perseus in the following years,"

"Good," Adler whispered before turning around to look at us, putting his hands on the side of the desk. "As I said, you will be teaming up with them for the mission in a squad of 5, I'll tell you more about it when I will do the general briefing before the beginning of the operation,"

"Wait, how much time we're having to prepare ourselves?" I questioned him as he was very vague on the subject, except for the file he gave me still in my bag.

"We're starting the operation in the following evening," He answered to me, moving his left hand at his lips to blow some smoke out of his mouth before he turned his head around in a direction at his left. "About that, here's Sims along with the two former Perseus agents: Bellamy Petrov & Katinka Goodman," He pointed out towards the direction he was looking at as I could see Sims in the same clothes I always saw him along with a man with black hair and a woman with blonde hair.

"Hey, doc', heard the plane landing, how was the flight?" Sims spoke up first, handing over his hand for shaking as he arrived in front of Adler.

"Very good, thanks for asking, Sims," Adler replied, moving to shake hands with Sims but then, I could see the man called...Bellamy, looking at me with a deadly glare.

"Well, well, well...isn't that our old Krypto that I'm seeing right now?" Him...Bellamy demanded in a serious & deadly voice against me, his fists getting clenched as the woman...Katinka was also looking at me with a better look, peeking her eyes to see Bellamy.

"Do I know you?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes.

"And of course, you purposely take me for an idiot," He exclaimed, looking down at his feet but then, he started to move towards me, his hands ready for a punch before Katinka quickly moved in to stop him, grabbing him from behind.

"Bellamy, don't!" She ordered in a clear voice as Grigoriev got near me, putting her hands in front of my chest as she was thinking that I was going to throw a punch too...I wasn't in the mood for that..."You swore that you will not do anything to Zasha," She said.

"You know my name?" I questioned her, sounding stoned that those two were knowing while I couldn't know them.

"Yeah, you...you don't remember us?" I shook my head at her question as she was struggling to keep this Bellamy in control, the others witnessing the event right now.

"Oh yeah, how it was when you gunned down my father, uh?" Bellamy demanded, keeping an angry tone at me.

"Your father?" I muttered.

"Perseus, it was my father until you killed him in West-Berlin three years ago," He revealed, sending a wave of shock inside of me, not believing at first what he was saying until his rage showed me that it was true...in front of me, I was facing the son of the man that got me in the Collective..."How it was, Zasha?"

"I..." I tried to speak but that revelation cut me down, impossible for me to speak further.

"Petrov, stop, your attitude isn't helping," Adler ordered him, standing up from his desk to put himself between me & Bellamy. "I know that you got a hatred against the CIA and Zasha about your father but..." He stopped himself to fully look at Bellamy. "You know well that we're your only way to avenge your sisters, right?" He suggested to him and in the seconds that follow, it was seeming to calm him down.

"You're right, you are," Bellamy resigned himself, Katinka removing her hands off him. "But I ain't going to be sometimes gentle with them, understand?" He told him before he released a sigh and starts to walk away in the direction he came in here.

"I'm so sorry about him, so sorry," Katinka apologized to us before she moved to follow Bellamy out of the hangar.

"Shit, never thought that they will be the two first former Perseus agents in here," Grigoriev spoke up, breaking the little silence after the departure of the two, causing me to look at her with a curious face. "I knew them before but it seems that you were the one that they remember,"

"Anyway," Adler cut me as I was going to talk to Grigoriev. "Sims, get the two to their rooms, they will need rest for later," He ordered to Sims who nodded at him before he walked away, taking another direction and disappearing from our sight outside the hangar, leaving us alone with Sims...

"Okay, let's get you both to your room, you're not looking well,"

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

23rd January 1984, 15H55

Bellamy Petrov, son of the fallen Perseus

Somewhere in Russia, in a hidden Perseus facility

"Hey, nice shooting, Bellamy," I was training myself with my pistol at the shooting range of the base when one of the soldiers that were with me during that training complimented me after I was done with my shooting, coming back with the target in his hands. "Almost all in the center but damn," He added, showing me perfectly the eight holes in the center.

"Thanks, soldier," I thanked him, taking the target in my hands to look at it in a closer way, finding that I wasn't perfect in it, my father wanted me to shoot the center with all the bullets and three bullets missed the target. "No, it's not perfect, I should restart,"

"Bellamy, you've been working on that for two hours," The soldier complained, rolling his eyes around through his black hood. "You should..."

"No, not like that," I cut him straight. "My father always needed me to be better than this, you know that," I exclaimed to him, giving him back the target in his hands.

"Your father is dead!" The soldier claimed, throwing the target on the ground. "He ain't among us anymore and the person in charge here is Stitch," He continued, using a rather provoking voice against me.

"Use better words, sucker!" I warned him, raising my hand against him and preparing my right hand for a punch but I stopped when I heard a door getting opened behind me.

"Bellamy!" That was none other than Stitch's voice coming in, making me stop thinking to beat up that soldier to death in here. "Come with me, I need you for something,"

"What is it about?" I asked him, turning around to look at him, seeing him in his usual outfit: black hood, military black & white pants...the same outfit he's been wearing for days...& months...

"Come with me, you'll see," He ordered, gesturing with his hands to follow him, leaving the room without any words.

I found myself following Stitch out of the room at a few moments of having to beat that soldier for insulting my father's memories and I know that I wasn't going to be pleased with what he's going to tell me or make me do, knowing that since my father died, Stitch has been taken over the Collective as I was the one designed to be the leader but said to have 'less charisma' than Stitch at that time, making me do some of the worst missions that I was given in years.

I continued to follow him around the multiples hallway of the base, everyone saluting him and not me at all before we arrived at some stairs going underground, the place that our prisoners & enemies were kept for interrogation and execution, and by looking at it, it seems that he wanted me to do the dirty job of getting rid of someone while he would be watching me through a glass but this time, we entered a room together where I could see two people on their knees in the middle of the room.

Both were having their hands tied up, a bag over their hands, and trying to speak through the bag but sounding muffled by something covering their mouths. We were awaited as there were at least 4 guards around the room.

"Who are they?" I asked Stitch once I was inside the room, looking at these two people, wondering who it could be.

"People that...failed miserably in a mission," Stitch replied, closing the door of the room behind me before he passed next to me to get near the two. "As you see, I don't like to be failed, especially when it's coming to the primordial missions," He added, his hands moving towards the bag of the person at my front left. "You said that you will do anything for the Collective, right?"

"Of course, to honor my father's work," I responded, full honest in my words, and his response...was a sigh...

"We'll see about this in a few seconds," He walked in front of me, handing me over a pistol from his holster, placing it right into my right hand before moving back to the two as I was starting to aim towards the person he was going to remove the bag. "Come on, say hello, Liliya," He said before he removed the bag of the two at the same time, giving me a vision of horror...in front of me kneeled, my two siblings...Liliya...Kory...in front of me...trying to speak through the tape over their mouths at me.

"What's the fuck?" I whispered, starting to tremble at my right hand.

"Your siblings...failed to capture two days ago, Russell Adler," Stitch revealed to me, holding the two bags in his hands before throwing them away on the ground. "It was a perfect plan: lure Adler in that American mall but they failed...they failed because they blow up the cover of our operation," He added, going to take off Liliya's tape over her mouth.

"Bellamy...please, don't..." Liliya tried to say before Stitch moves his hand over her mouth, shutting her down.

"I don't like to be failed and you will pay the price," Stitch affirmed to her before he gets off her, me impossible to move as if my blood was frozen. "Now, I want to see if you're ready to make any sacrifices for your 'father's work'," He demanded, walking to get behind Liliya & Kory, the latter trying to speak despite that Stitch didn't remove his tape.

"Bellamy, please, don't do this, don't!" Liliya pleaded as my gun was still aimed at her.

"I...I can't, Liliya," I tried to speak up but that situation...what was happening was terrifying me at my highest point, Stitch forcing me to kill my own sisters while there were guards around me..."No, I can't, I will never hurt my siblings, Stitch," I admitted, trying to lower my gun.

"I see," Stitch muttered.

"You will never see again for me now!" I shouted before raising my gun again, wanting to put a bullet in him at his other remaining eye, maybe knowing that I could die from it, and then, I pulled the trigger of my pistol but....nothing came out...nothing...the gun was unloaded...

"Not shooting his siblings...and you said that you will do everything for the cause, pathetic," Stitch scoffed at me, almost laughing before he gestured with his head to the guards behind me, and in two seconds, I felt some hands grabbing me at my shoulders and forcing me to get down, the pistol getting off my hands, my face against the cold of the ground, my body been held by those guards.

"Don't hurt them, Stitch, I swore that...I'll kill you for that!" I yelled at him, my voice trying to be louder despite my mouth was nearly against the ground.

"You will never do that, Bellamy, I'm the one in charge here," Stitch admitted before he got out another pistol from him and he started to aim behind Kory's head....before he fired a bullet...

"NOOOO!" I shouted when I saw him hitting the ground, her eyes looking at me before I looked at Liliya who was scared, afraid by her face, she was breathing rapidly as Stitch moved his gun behind her head too..."Liliya..." I whispered.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy," She said...before a gunshot was heard and she fell on the ground just at my sight at a few centimeters from me, seeing the scared look on her face...

"LILIYA!" I cried again as the guards were holding me to the ground, one of them forcing me to look at her, a bullet hole right between her eyes on the forehead, blood coming out of it and...I cried...tears coming out of my eyes at seeing her like that, Stitch killed my two sisters....and I was here...hopeless...as Stitch was laughing at my face...

"Burn the bodies and him, take him back to his quarters," He ordered to his men as they were keeping me on the ground, me feeling so broken at seeing my sisters like this...

We were different but they were my siblings, I couldn't hurt them...

[laura-elizabeth91]

FROM 2019

Matt Chorley: behind the scenes at 10 Downing Street

Times political expert Matt Chorley speaks with former prime ministers, senior civil servants and spin doctors to find out what the new inhabitant of No 10 can expect in his first 48 hours in office (whoever he may be)

Not many people get to do it. In the past half-century, more people have walked on the Moon than across the threshold of No 10 as a new prime minister.

When the new prime minister stands on those famous steps next Wednesday afternoon he will find it a daunting prospect. They always do. Sir John Major felt it had come too soon. When he was confirmed as the new PM in 1990, his wife, Norma, turned to a friend and asked, “Is it going to be all right?”

Britain’s political system does not allow for a slow and careful transition between administrations, as in America. Some, like Gordon Brown, have years to prepare. Others, like Theresa May, a matter of days. This time, the new prime minister will be named on Tuesday and he will take office the next day, stepping on to a nonstop treadmill charging at 100mph.

“You’re never ready,” says Tony Blair. “The one thing you realise the moment you come into government is that campaigning to be the government is completely different from governing as the government.” Was he frightened? “Yeah, I was … ‘Frightened’ is perhaps not the right word, but I was somewhat overawed, yeah.”

Recalling that night in May 1997 as he willed the Tories to win more seats, fearing a New Labour landslide might spark some kind of constitutional crisis, he adds, “I think I was one of the very few sober people around that night and I was very sober and very, very conscious of the responsibility.”

For David Cameron, there was the psychodrama of five days of coalition talks, before it became clear that he would indeed be PM. Sitting in the leader of the opposition’s office in the Houses of Parliament, he called his wife: “Sam, love, you’d better get your frock ready. We’re going to see the Queen.”

And that is the first thing that happens even before you get to Downing Street: a trip to Buckingham Palace.

The Queen After PMQs on Wednesday, May will formally resign as PM, recommending to the Queen whom to summon as her successor. May will arrive at the palace in her prime ministerial limousine, but be driven away in a private car. The trappings of power fall away quickly.

The audience with the Queen can be a daunting moment, not least because she will remind the new PM that he is the 14th of her reign. Winston Churchill was her first.

Blair was waiting in a Buckingham Palace anteroom for his first audience with the Queen when an official approached to explain, “You don’t actually kiss the Queen’s hands in the ceremony of kissing hands. You brush them gently with your lips,” as he recalls in his memoir. This left the PM-in-waiting baffled, wondering if this meant brushing like a pair of shoes or the very lightest of touches.

Before he had time to work it out, he was ushered in, tripping on a piece of carpet and almost falling directly upon the Queen’s hands – “not so much brushing them as enveloping them”.

Margaret Thatcher insisted her audiences with the Queen were “quietly businesslike”, although she said stories about tensions between the two women were simply “too good not to make up”.

Cameron had a habit of blurting out details of his conversations with the Queen – famously that she “purred” down the phone to him after Scotland voted no to independence.

The speech From the palace it is a short mile and a half car journey down the Mall and Whitehall to Downing Street to address the nation. This speech matters.

“The new PM must first write notes only to be opened in the event of an apocalypse

It has grown in significance. For Thatcher quoting St Francis of Assisi (“Where there is discord, may we bring harmony”), it was a few snatched words to a huddle of cameras. These days it is a big lectern moment. As with May’s “burning injustices”, those first words on the steps of No 10 can set the tone for a premiership, and come back to haunt you.

With the world’s media gathered opposite No 10 and news helicopters hovering overhead, the narrow street creates a cauldron of noise.

It was easier for Blair – Labour apparatchiks had packed the street with Union Jack-waving party supporters. A decade later Brown took no chances. On the morning he became prime minister he went into a room in the Treasury with his gatekeeper Sue Nye and spin doctor Damian McBride to practise delivering his speech without notes – “I will try my utmost” – while his two aides played the role of protesters.

“Boo!” shouted Nye. “You’re a bad man!”

McBride got more into it: “Why did you sell the gold, Gordon? You ruined my pension! You’ve got blood on your hands!” At this last insult Brown stopped mid-speech and demanded to know, “Why is there blood on my hands?”

Some are more memorable than others – Cameron declaring, “This is going to be hard and difficult work,” had the hallmarks of a speech written in haste. It was also delivered in the dark, thanks to the Dark Lord of spin, Peter Mandelson. He advised Brown to leave in the early evening, still in daylight, knowing that by the time Cameron reached Downing Street the gloom would have descended.

The door Having delivered the speech in a blaze of flashbulbs, the new prime minister will turn and walk towards perhaps the most famous door in the world. This is the moment he will have fantasised about.

Waiting behind the door will be Sir Mark Sedwill, the cabinet secretary, at least for now. There has been speculation he could face the chop, although the new PM might soon realise they have bigger things to worry about.

The cabinet secretary, the most senior civil servant in the country, welcomes the new prime minister and their spouse (if they have one) before the couple walk towards the cabinet room, down the corridor lined with Downing Street staff who just an hour earlier will have waved off Team May. Lord O’Donnell, former cabinet secretary under Blair, Brown and Cameron, says, “You’ve got a very frenetic hour when you’re rearranging the furniture. You’re trying to work out precisely what our new prime minister might want. It’s horrible. It’s … barbaric, actually, is the word I would use.”

The changeover is brutal in its speed and efficiency. On the night in 2010 when Brown left Downing Street he was barely out the door when Jeremy Heywood, the No 10 permanent secretary, told staff to “snap out of it. We have a job to do.” And so they dried their eyes and prepared for Cameron’s arrival.

“It’s a bit mawkish really,” says Baroness Bertin, who entered No 10 as Cameron’s press secretary. “You can still, you know, smell them. They’ve only just left. The pizza boxes were still in the bin. We all trooped into Gordon Brown’s office and the table had scratch marks and indentation marks where we imagined mobile phones had been smashed into it.”

The civil servants will line up, clap and smile and make their new boss feel welcome. This tradition is born not out of servitude to new masters but a more practical purpose: in the pre-television age, it was a chance for Downing Street staff to see the new PM and their team up close so they could recognise them about the place.

“It’s very noisy,” recalls Katie Perrior, who entered No 10 in 2016 as May’s director of communications. “There’s lots of back-patting and people are realising, ‘We’re here now.’ ”

Anji Hunter, Blair’s adviser, says this moment illustrates the professionalism of the civil service. “They don’t display their political affiliations. That same group of people had been there an hour before we were there, weeping as Major left with Norma. They had clapped out John Major and they clapped us in, beaming, literally beaming and delightful.”

Blair arrived deeply suspicious of the civil service, believing they were beholden to the long-running outgoing Conservative administration. The same was true of Cameron when he moved in after 13 years of New Labour. “Actually, within almost hours that’s completely gone,” says O’Donnell.

While the clapping and smiling have been going on, the cabinet secretary has run round the back corridor to be waiting for the PM outside the cabinet room.

The cabinet room Stepping into the famous cabinet room can be an emotional moment. Blair said he pictured “a thousand images fluttering through my mind” of Disraeli and Gladstone and Asquith, Lloyd George and Churchill and every other great statesman who had held court and power in this room.

David Cameron, alongside wife Samantha, is ushered into the cabinet room for the first time by cabinet secretary Gus O’Donnell, May 11, 2010ANDREW PARSONS/I-IMAGES

A photographer captured the moment Cameron had his head in his hands as he entered the room, as the enormity of it all dawned on him. O’Donnell was to his left, while to his right was his wife, Samantha, pregnant with their daughter, Florence, who was allowed to enjoy the private moment of history before being whisked off.

By tradition all the chairs around the cabinet table are neatly pushed in; the prime minister’s seat is at an angle. It is also the only chair with arms.

The PM sits. Waiting on the vast coffin-shaped table is bottled water, still and sparkling, and a small dish of mints. It is going to be an intense first meeting. After all the euphoria, the applause and the smiles, it quickly gets serious. Really serious.

The letters One of the first jobs is to write letters to the UK’s Trident submarine commanders giving targeting instructions only to be opened in the event of a nuclear attack where communications with London have broken down.

“Cameron held an ‘Ibiza-style rave’ at Chequers for his wife’s birthday

The chief of the defence staff, General Sir Nicholas Carter, is likely to be on hand to offer advice. However, nobody knows what the PM puts in the letters, which are sealed and taken to the Clyde naval base in Scotland where the submarines are based, with whichever boat is at sea having its letter on board.

The PM must also name a dozen ministers and advisers who would be given a space in the underground nuclear bunker, alongside their families, in the event of Armageddon.

Joining them around the cabinet table might be the heads of the security services. There will be a fast update on the most pressing issues of national security: live counterterror operations, imminent threats and urgent decisions delayed by their predecessor.

“This isn’t exactly an easy first couple of meetings,” says O’Donnell.

“It’s incredibly scary,” agrees Lord Wood of Anfield, a foreign policy adviser to Brown. “It’s a particular kind of torture to make the first act of a prime minister, literally within 30 seconds, this extraordinarily dramatic act of handwritten notes only to be opened in the event of an apocalypse.”

That moment encapsulates the feeling of loneliness that so many prime ministers have spoken of. There is no one to share it with, nowhere to turn. The buck stops with you and you alone.

The team While things are calm but serious in the cabinet room, outside all hell could be breaking loose as the PM’s political team get to meet their new colleagues, tour their new office and try to grab the best desks.

In 2007, while Brown was at the palace his team had a 2pm appointment at the “link door”, a Star Trek-like glass capsule door that connects the cabinet office with the rear of No 10.

“You walk into the pod,” recalls Wood. “It shuts behind you and then hopefully opens in front of you. There was a line of women on the other side who were the PAs, the Garden Room girls and assistants. And we were kind of matched one a piece, a bit like Strictly.

“And the thing I remember is that they all looked very red-eyed. And I only realised three years later when I left, they were crying because they’d just said goodbye to the Blair team. Within half an hour they were hoovering the floor and then lining up waiting for their new team.”

Once through, the political team will rush through the corridors of No 10 to be there to greet the new PM as he walks through the door.

Some teams are better prepared than others. Jonathan Powell, Blair’s chief of staff, held talks with the civil service and even trained frontbenchers in how to be a minister. “I remember Tony not wanting to know anything about that,” Hunter recalls. “Superstitious is the word.”

Keen to make a first impression in 2016, Perrior made a speech to civil service press officers about the importance of loyalty. “Don’t screw me over and I’ve got your back.”

For aides and advisers, the first days will also mean detailed security checks, especially for those covering foreign affairs, defence and national security.

Wood says, “My understanding is that the inquiries have evolved from questions about sexual and other matters to questions about money. I think they care much more now about financial exposure than private life exposure.”

The incoming team will also be warned against using their personal email addresses for government business, and to be wary when travelling abroad, to assume that foreign governments are listening in.

Sue Nye gave Brown’s team some extra advice: always carry your paperwork in a folder (to avoid official documents being snapped by photographers waiting in Downing Street). And never run.

“I was with the prime minister quite a lot, travelling around the world,” says Wood. “If you’re caught on camera running, it looks like something’s gone wrong.”

The house It is a strange quirk of British politics that the entire country is run from three terraced houses knocked together to form the office, state rooms and home of the prime minister.

O’Donnell calls it a “Tardis”. Wood says it is like a “slightly run-down Georgian country hotel”. Bertin remembers “being so overwhelmed really by No 10, the actual presence, actually being in that building, the smell of it. It just was like a sensory overload.”

If changing jobs is hard enough, becoming prime minister also comes with one of life’s most stressful experiences: moving house. The flat over No 11 Downing Street is slightly bigger and has in recent years been taken by the prime minister. At the end of a long day they can head to one of the small lifts that takes them to the top floor. Although in time prime ministers often make a habit of taking the stairs, the only form of exercise they get during an office-bound day running the country.

“Brown struggled to relax at No 10. ‘He didn’t enjoy living above the shop’

New PMs routinely try to suggest they might like to stay in their own home, before security becomes too much. Security arrangements for children and wider family will also have to be agreed. O’Donnell jokes, “We all know from Bodyguard what that can lead to.”

For new prime ministers not used to the increased security, this can come as a shock. On his first day in office, Major went to walk from No 10 to the House of Commons for lunch, but was stopped by police who made it clear this would be impossible for as long as he was PM.

For PMs with young children, working below the flat could be a blessing, allowing them to slope off for an hour. The Cameron children would often be seen playing in their pyjamas as dignitaries visited.

Brown, by contrast, struggled to relax. Wood says, “He didn’t enjoy living above the shop.” Home remained in Scotland, while the Downing Street flat “felt a little bit like a place you were staying in for a long weekend with a few Sainsbury’s bags full of milk”.

Discussions will also have to be had about the position of the new PM’s wife or girlfriend, whether they plan to play a visible role, and whether their own job or interests present a potential political conflict that could derail a premiership in its infancy.

There will be questions of changing artworks, even redecorating, but they can come later.

The new PM has not just one new home, but two. There is also the grace-and-favour country retreat at Chequers, where they are likely to head to for their first weekend.

May used to enjoy using the pool. Thatcher was so concerned with the electricity bills she had the pool’s heating switched off. Blair added a tennis court and invited celebrity friends to stay. Cameron held an “Ibiza-style rave” for his wife’s birthday.

When Major became prime minister he inherited a Chequers reception from Thatcher, but had no guests. So he asked O’Donnell, the PM’s press secretary at the time, who to invite. He replied instantly, “Well, Bobby Charlton ...”

“We just reeled out these people that we’d all love to meet,” says O’Donnell. “We had Jenny Agutter and a whole bunch of cricketers.”

The reshuffle Before unwinding in the Buckinghamshire countryside, there is the small matter of putting together a government.

If the updates on the state of the nation’s security are sensitive, the details of the reshuffle require perhaps even higher levels of secrecy. A small office just off the cabinet room is used for reshuffles, which means the door can be locked so ministerial posts are not spotted by prying eyes. “You need to make sure that you can’t have someone going in moving the names around,” says O’Donnell.

In comes a whiteboard to write people’s names on with magnets. In 2010, as the coalition government was being put together, disaster struck. “For some reason the magnetic thing stopped and all the names dropped off,” Bertin recalls. “I’m sure some people got different jobs as a result.”

The number of ministerial jobs is limited by law to 90 MPs, and a total of 109 paid posts including 22 paid cabinet positions. Downing Street staff are tasked with finding out where key people are in preparation for them to be called in for a job – without letting on why.

Both May and Major were propelled into No 10 with such haste they had given little thought to their top team. Brown, by contrast, had been planning it for months, perhaps years, right down to every junior minister and aide. “As with all these things, it goes well until it doesn’t, and then like dominoes you’ve got to rebuild the whole thing,” recalls Wood.

Margaret Beckett was let go as foreign secretary, making way for David Miliband. “It went down like a ton of shit,” says one of Wood’s former colleagues. “She has never forgiven Gordon.”

“Of the many gifts she received, May chose to keep only hosiery from a firm called Luxury Legs

In addition to the rather quaint idea of choosing the right person for each job, other considerations are also taken into account: in the New Labour years it meant balancing Blairites and Brownites; the coalition had to have the right number of Tories and Lib Dems; since 2016, balancing Remainers and Leavers has been seen as critical.

It is likely that only the very top jobs – chancellor, foreign secretary and home secretary – will be announced on Wednesday night. The rest of the cabinet will be rolled out on Thursday, with more junior jobs to follow.

Where the coalition had got into the habit of announcing reshuffles on Twitter, Team May thought this too Cameroon and opted for formal press releases with the Downing Street crest on.

Would-be ministers are brought into Downing Street through the front door or via the cabinet office and left in a small waiting room just off the main entrance to No 10.

“You know what I’ve got, don’t you?” a nervous Boris Johnson asked Perrior on the evening of July 13, 2016. “Yes,” she replied. “But it’s not for me to tell you. It’s for the prime minister. So you just have to wait a little bit longer.” He was then summoned to the cabinet room to be offered the job of foreign secretary, before returning to a makeshift photographer’s studio in a side office where portraits would be taken to mark the occasion.

A slick operation. But not perfect. At one point George Osborne, still resident in No 11, walked past just as someone was shouting, “Can you just repeat that? Philip Hammond is the new chancellor?” Osborne winked and carried on. Perrior explains, “George Osborne got fired via someone shouting in a corridor a little bit loudly.”

The switchboard For new arrivals into Downing Street, “Switch” is about to change their lives. The Downing Street switchboard is staffed around the clock by a team of crack operatives able to get anyone on the phone anywhere at a moment’s notice.

Technology has obviously changed its role. Major and Blair didn’t have a mobile phone. Brown was less of a stickler for process, and would text and email at all hours. These days a prime minister could bypass Switch by whatsapping their ministers, advisers or other world leaders. They could also bypass their press teams by firing off tweets, creating the havoc that Donald Trump seems to thrive on in the White House.

“If Donald Trump were prime minister,” says O’Donnell, “I would have kittens, because that’s just not the way our system works.”

The first job for Switch will be to co-ordinate the congratulatory phone calls. Traditionally, the president of the United States is the first wellwisher to get through.

George W Bush was the first to call Brown. Three years later the White House was on the line again. “I’m speaking to you now from No 10 for the first time,” Cameron told Obama, with a wink to his team.

Expect President Trump to be first on the line next week, too. Or perhaps he will just tweet. Might an early call from Germany’s Angela Merkel or Ireland’s Leo Varadkar help to oil the wheels of a new Brexit deal? Also listening in to those calls will be the chief of staff, special advisers, foreign policy experts and press aides charged with briefing out (some of) what is said.

There will also be hundreds, if not thousands, of calls from friends and family. O’Donnell says, “These may be the extended family that the prime minister’s forgotten all about. They may feel that now their third cousin twice removed has become prime minister, they really need to congratulate them.”

The gifts For some, phoning is not enough. Gifts, many terribly expensive, are dispatched. Anything worth more than £140 is seized by the cabinet office, and if the PM wants to keep it they have to pay for it. In July 2017 May was sent shoes, clothes and make-up. She chose to keep only hosiery from a firm called Luxury Legs.

And then the flowers. Thatcher joked in her memoirs that so many bouquets were sent to No 10 during her final days that “you could hardly move down the corridors for a floral display that rivalled the Chelsea Flower Show”. And they all had to go before the new PM arrived, with even more blooms.

Perrior says, “The place looks like someone’s died. I feel for anybody who has hayfever.”

The office Blair found Downing Street so cramped he considered moving the office of the prime minister to the QEII conference centre. Cameron toyed with moving upstairs to one of the grand state rooms looking out over Horse Guards Parade, where Thatcher had worked, before discovering there were no phone or IT connections. Instead, he chose the room used by Blair, then known as the “den”.

Bertin was not impressed. “It was a bit of a mess, if I’m honest. It was tiny. There were sort of, you know, stains on the carpet.”

When May, who inherited Cameron’s office, visited Perrior in her oak-panelled corner room overlooking the garden, she remarked how nice it was. “I said something along the lines of, ‘Keep your hands off … You are not taking this office.’ ”

In most workplaces having your own office would be a sign of status, but in Downing Street it can leave you cut off from the action.

Chiefs of staff position themselves right outside the prime minister’s office, deciding who gets in and who doesn’t. Everyone insists that the prime minister wants them to be in the room, closest to them, at all times.

“May’s thank-you party for staff came many weeks later, highlighting early on the lack of people skills that would bring her low

“You felt sometimes that you should hover,” says Wood. “Hopefully you caught someone’s eye and then they’d say, ‘Oh, you’d better come in.’ Proximity was everything.”

Under May there was to be no hovering. A sofa outside the PM’s office, used by hoverers, was removed. “It was made clear that you do not linger in this office,” Perrior recalls. “You are only to come when you are invited.”

In the early days of the May regime a small side office was commandeered by her chiefs of staff, Fiona Hill and Nick Timothy.

It became known as the “bollocking room”. “You knew that if you were asked to go in there … it was not going to be necessarily pleasant,” says Perrior.

Cameron had formality forced upon him: the coalition meant Nick Clegg (and his Lib Dem team) were squatters in No 10. Decisions had to be taken formally by both parties, not by a select clique. Conservative spin doctors and policy advisers were told to share offices with their Lib Dem opposite numbers. “I can remember being pissed off about that,” says Bertin, although she now admits it was the right way to ensure the coalition worked.

The night On Wednesday night civil servants will be encouraging the new PM to go to bed early, knowing what onslaught awaits the next day.

In 2007, at around 9pm, Brown went back to his flat – handily for the former chancellor, just upstairs – where his wife, Sarah, cooked dinner and close friends celebrated with champagne.

Next week, the new PM will likely head to their own home, because the Mays will not have moved out. But that does not mean time to switch off. They will have their red boxes of papers to work through, covering everything from a draft speech to a natural disaster or a parliamentary crisis. There is also the black box, known as “Old Stripey” due to its red stripe, that contains the most sensitive material, which even as foreign secretary Jeremy Hunt or Boris Johnson might not have seen.

Before heading off, it is probably wise to gather people for a pep talk, bringing together political advisers and civil servants to begin to cement them into a team. In 2007, Brown told the assembled workers in the Pillared Room, “It’s not every day you meet the Queen at 1.30pm, become the prime minister at 2.45pm, speak to the president of the United States at 4pm and get told by Sarah to put the kids to bed at 7pm.” Cameron made a speech joking about how he and Nick Clegg would get on better than Blair and Brown, which went down badly with those who’d spent years working for the Labour PMs.

May’s thank-you party for staff came many weeks later, highlighting early on the lack of people skills that in the end would bring her low.

The next day All prime ministers have a habit of starting early, and for May’s replacement time will be of the essence. On Thursday teams will be assembled early, at around 6am. The reshuffle will have to be completed, and the new prime minister is expected to make an appearance in the Commons before parliament rises for its six-week summer recess.

The diary will already be filling up. And it will be nonstop and baffling and relentless. Wood explains, “At 7am, you’re meeting with the Scottish Bagpipe Association, who’ve got a problem with tax treatment, and then at 8.15am you’ve got a phone call with the Armenian president ’cause there’s a problem on the border, and then at 9am you’ve got a policy meeting about long-term health policy. And you’ve got to fight against this tendency always to put aside the long-term stuff because there’s always enough short-term stuff to really consume you.”

The departure Like all good things, premierships come to an end. A new arrival in Downing Street means there has been a departure. Out with the old and in with the new.

In 2016, moments before Cameron went out to make his final speech, Bertin caught him just behind the No 10 door to tell him how proud she was of what he’d achieved. “Please don’t,” he said. “You’re going to make me cry.” When he came back in there were more tears, though he held it together. Just.

Leaving the building, and the power and influence it gives, is a wrench. Wood says, “It’s like handing over your most precious possession to someone else and resenting the fact that it’s not yours, but you want them to treat it well.”

Wood left a note to Bertin in 2010. When Bertin came to leave six years later she wrote a note to her children on No 10 paper, saying, “This is what Mummy did.”

And so it ends as it began, with letters. Before leaving Brown wrote three letters: one to Cameron (left under a bottle of whisky), one to Nelson Mandela and one to Aung San Suu Kyi. Most prime ministers leave their successor a note, knowing they are one of just a handful of people alive who know what the job is really like.

Brown had a well-worn joke about this. He used to say that when you finish in your job and your successor is taking over, you hand them three envelopes. When there’s a crisis (and there always is), they open the first letter and it says, “Blame your predecessor.” The next crisis, the second letter says, “Blame the statistics.” And finally the third envelope says, “Prepare three envelopes.” To find out more about what happens when you become PM, listen to Matt Chorley’s Red Box podcast special on iTunes, Acast and Spotify

UK politics

David Cameron

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Comments(84)Newestuyjujy yujuyjujyU

SShayeWestL24 JULY, 2019This was just riveting. Thanks Matt, brilliantly put together.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohn Must21 JULY, 2019EditedDon't fret. Trump will sort it all out for you during the 4PM phone call.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohnny C20 JULY, 2019Great article!ReplyRecommendReport

DDuncan Bell20 JULY, 2019Great piece, except maybe for the photos. Very insightful.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohn Noel HUGHES-WILSON20 JULY, 2019Of course the incoming PM could say , 'No, I am not going to be told what to do by you lot. This is what I want to happen. Now do it.' The idea that the civil service dictate the handover merely hands them power. Who controls the agenda? Sir Humphrey or his boss?ReplyRecommendReport

MMatt - Not the other one20 JULY, 2019According to the Bible of political processes - Yes, Prime Minister - an incoming PM is only applauded if they've won an election. Whoever goes into No. 10 won't have. So, like Jim Hacker, he'll be met with silence.ReplyRecommendReport

HHelsinki20 JULY, 2019Mr Johnson : DON'T BOTHER UNPACKING You won't be there long enough.ReplyRecommendReport

Rramtops20 JULY, 2019I truly cannot envisage Johnson being up to the relentless pressure and grasp of detail required for this job. I'm really quite fearful.ReplyRecommendReport

MMr Malcolm Speirs20 JULY, 2019I do hope The Times hold on to Matt, and that he does not end up at Sky News (where many excellent print journalists have headed of late).ReplyRecommendReport

DDave20 JULY, 2019He will find an empty box labelled “Brexit Britain’s bright sunlit future” and a full waste basket labelled “Brexit Promises”ReplyRecommendReport

MMichael Rose20 JULY, 2019John Noel HUGHES-WILSONYou really have no idea about the workings of government, do you? I doubt that Boris Johnson can tie his own shoelaces, never mind tell them what the civil service should be doing.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohnny C20 JULY, 2019John Noel HUGHES-WILSONMy father was a senior civil servant. He always said, Sir Humphrey ran the country. Yes Minister was how it really worked, most legislation is via Statutory Instruments penned by civil servants and signed into statute by clueless ministersReplyRecommendReport

MMichael Rose20 JULY, 2019Matt - Not the other oneOr hopefully a slow handclap.ReplyRecommendReport

MMichael Rose20 JULY, 2019ramtopsThink how how the majority in the country feels.ReplyRecommendReport

Oozodyssey21 JULY, 2019Mr Malcolm SpeirsHe does seem to be moonlighting in a number of different rolesReplyRecommendReport

TMatt ChorleySTAFF20 JULY, 2019Mr Malcolm SpeirsNo danger of that, I promise. Having too much fun hereReplyRecommendReport

JJohnny C20 JULY, 2019DaveAnd he will paint a bus onto the box full of smiling passengers The sort of people he'll meet in the asylum when his brain implodes due to the promises he made but couldn't fulfilReplyRecommendReport

[typewritingyip]

A Life Worth Waiting For

Into and Out of the Wardrobe

A/N: This is my first ever Narnia fic, so thank you to @edmundrex​ for posting the #CairParavelNet June Event! (Technically it’s called into the wardrobe but I couldn’t just pick one part)

Warnings: Minor Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 8,063

The platform was crowded with weepy mothers, nervous children, and a great deal of luggage. Mothers arms wrapped around my body, as tiny as I was it felt like being wrapped in a blanket. It wasn’t cold on the platform but I was shaky from the nerves. The ringing made it to where I couldn’t even hear what she was saying to me, her words were silent even as she attached the travel tag to my sweater.

“Alright dear, don’t take this tag off until you get to your platform. They’ll pick you up there and take you to where you’ll be safe.”  

Her hand brushes over my hair, finally looking up at her through slightly swollen eyes my lip quivers as I try not to cry,  

“Mama I don’t want to leave... I- I don’t want you to be alone...”

Her smile was warm as a summer day, one from before the war when we’d spend days in the park. She lightly brushes her thumbs over my cheeks, wiping the tears there away;  

“Darling, I’m never alone. Papa may be gone but I have grandmother with me.”  

Sniffling I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my sweater. She gently turns me around and nudges me towards the train, getting caught between several people while I struggle with my suitcase. One of the ticket readers grabs the tag and pulls the ticket from it while some older kid grabs my arm, pulling me along. My eyes widen from the sudden grip, following this tall boy onto the train. The door closed behind us and my heart sunk, turning to it I tried to see out the window to see my mother as my eyes fill with tears again.  

Before being able to see out the window the trains horn blows and it starts to move and yet again, I’m grabbed by the boy while a conductor checks our tags and heads for a compartment with two children already in it. It was only then that the boy realized I wasn’t his little sister,  

“Who are you?”

Sniffling I move to sit down, hugging my suit case tightly,

“Maude, Maude Crownly.”  

The conductor nods and helps with the luggage before moving on, leaving all of us in awkward silence. I kept my head down, pulling a few sheets of paper from my pocket and a rather mangled pencil to draw on as the train picks up speed,

“Well, I’m Peter. Peter Pevensie... Sorry if I scared you.”

I glance up at him and smile, missing a tooth in the front of my mouth,

“You didn’t scare me that bad,”

He smiled and sat back, looking at his other siblings before looking down. With that the compartment went silent as it traveled for the country side.  

Four hours after the other two children got off the train, the five of us waited in silence for us to arrive at the platform at Coombe Halt, or temporary new home. Curling up in the seat to face the window to see out into the new adventure I’d face, smiling softly as I sketched childish designs onto the paper. Feeling for the first time like one of those heroes in the adventure books father used to read to me once he came home from work. Looking down at the paper I fold it up and return it and the pencil to my pocket, wanting nothing more than to be home or at the very least father to be okay.  

The train would stop and each of us in turn would sit up to check to see if it was our stop, but then it would roll along without a conductor coming to retrieve us. None of us knew just how big England could be or how green anything outside London looked.

It was late in the day when it finally stopped again and out compartment door slid open, I jerked awake from the sound, thinking of the worst things possible before realizing where I was. Peter and his siblings were kind enough to help me from the train with them. It wasn’t a station, hardly more than a platform claiming to be a place that actually existed. Slowing down, they all looked back at the train as it rolled away. Setting down my suitcase was kind of a grunt, I sit on it and look at them,

“Do you know who you’re all staying with?”  

Peter nodded and double checked his tag, frowning as he looked around,  

“Yes, it’s a Professor Kirke... He knew we’d be coming.”  

Nodding, I smile and turn to look towards the road, hoping that they’d arrive soon. Though it was another hour before the horsed wagon appeared from over the nearby hill.

That night I had gotten terrible sleep, sharing a bed with strangers and other children for the first time in my life. Though Lucy and I were becoming fast friends, it wasn’t every day during a war you met someone the same age as you with schools being called off every few weeks for safety. A storm rolled in during the night and kept me awake, too scared to close my eyes.  

When the next day came and we were all stuck inside, it was barley noon when I started to die from boredom. I wanted to explore the amazing house we were all staying in, to read the books with familiar titles like the ones my father would have in his study. The entire house felt like a smaller version of my father's work at the university. It was amazing to feel so lost yet so found in an instant.  

“Peter, can we play hide and seek, please?”

Lucy was pouting and Peter looked mildly exasperated, giving Susan a look,  

“But we’re already having so much fun.”

Susan glares and snaps the book closed, then Peter started to count. Much to the distaste of Edmund. Smiling broadly, I run off, mostly to explore then to actually hide. It was all like the adventure books, just in a giant house rather than in a tumbling forest or open plain field.  

I could hear the Professors radio playing from his office, with the old Orquestra music quietly through the walls and pipes. Running up a set of stairs felt amazing, feeling for the first time in months much like the child I’d been before the war. Trying to duck into something I was rudely shoved out of the way by Edmund, Lucy had been right on his tail,

“I was here first!”

Scoffing, I hurry up another staircase with Lucy passing me, checking from rooms to hide in. Entering one I follow, hoping for a good hiding place only to find her removing a sheet from something massive. Gawking at it I look at her then to the massive wardrobe, we both could still hear Peter counting.  

“This is so cool...”

I brush my fingers over the wood and jump when Lucy opened the door, feeling like a breeze of icy air blew in our faces. I head in first with Lucy following, her backing up to close the door but I faced ahead seeing the strangest thing in the world. Hurrying ahead, tripping on tree branches I fall into the snow and look around in amazement.  

It was a snowy wonderland, something of a great imagination with a lamppost standing in the middle. Not something I’d ever been able to think up on my own. Looking up and back, I could see the light into the Spare Room shining just slightly through the crack of the wardrobe door. Looking at Lucy with a giant grin I stand to follow her, then get absolutely terrified by the creature before us. All three screams ring through the air.  

Lucy and I hide behind the lamppost, trying to look around either side to get a good look at the man standing there. Though it wasn’t quite a man, it was rather strange for his pants were fur but his shoes appeared to be hooves. I look to Lucy and whisper,

“It’s a fawn...”

Slowing walk out from behind the post and moves to pick up the packages, slowing looking him up and down before speaking,

“Were you hiding from me?”

I smiled and moved to help while they talked, looking around in amazement at the snowy surrounding. When it snowed in London it never stayed this white for long, whether the street or the area it would either turn grey or brown, but this was the softest of white powder snow.

“Everything from-from the lamppost, all the way to castle Cair Paravel on the eastern ocean. Every stick and stone you see, every icicle is Narnia.”  

I turn and look around, then look to Lucy,

“It’s an awfully big wardrobe.”

He seemed confused by then then chuckles slightly before speaking up,

“I-I’m sorry, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus.”

Standing up straight I take Lucy’s hand, smiling at him, letting her speak since she found Narnia first,

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Tumnus! I’m Lucy Pevensie,”

“And I’m Maude Crownly, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

We both stuck out our hands and I pulled my back awkwardly, looking down, usually a rather shy person. He had no clue what to do with her hand, so she showed him how to shake it, though both is us realized we didn’t know why people shook hands.  

“Well then, Lucy Pevensie and Maude Crownly from the shining city of Wardrobe in the wondrous land of Spare ‘Oom. How would it be if you both came and had tea with me?”

My heart swelled and sank, looking back towards where the wardrobe was, he opened his umbrella to prevent any more snow falling onto his head and into the curls of his hair,

“Well thank you very much but I, we probably should be getting back.”

“Yes, but it’s only just around the corner.”  

He made the both of us kind of jump before continuing,

“And there will be a glorious fire with toast and tea and cakes. And, perhaps, we’ll even break into the sardines.”

Lucy glances my way before looking back at Mr. Tumnus,

“I don’t know.”

He shifted his wait and got a slightly sad look on his face,

“Come on. It’s not every day I get to make new friends.”  

She looked at me and I bite the corner of my lip before speaking up,

“I suppose we could come for a little while. If you have sardines...”

The last sentence was slightly sarcastic and Lucy giggled, the fact that sardines were a common thing to have with tea in Narnia was greatly odd.  

“By the bucket load,”

He held up his umbrella for the three of us to fit under before hurrying off towards his place.  

We had spent the day with Mr. Tumnus, enjoying the tea he offered, till it put both of us to sleep along with the enchanted lullaby. It hurt being betrayed by our new found friend, it was jarring. We only then found out about the witch and why the winter was so terrible. Feeling the fear of a witch for the first time, where its real and not just in a book of fairy tales. It was late when we returned to the wardrobe, we stopped outside it and turned to him,

“Will you be alright?”

He laughed nervously then started to cry, clearly scared of what would happen to him. Lucy scrambled and pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, passing it to him so he could dry his eyes,

“I’m sorry, I'm so sorry... Here.”

He tries to give back the handkerchief,

“No, keep it. You need it more than I do.”  

“No matter what happens, I am glad to have met you both. You’ve made me feel warmer than I’ve felt in one hundred years. Now go, go.”

He touches out noses gently but spoke firmly. We glance at each other then back at him before hurrying past the lamppost, heading back into the wardrobe. Lucy fell out and continued through the house at a run to find everyone else. I stood there and backed up to stare at the wardrobe, already wishing to be back in Narnia. I could still hear Peter counting till Lucy yelled, frowning I look around then out the window. Struggling for a second, I pull out my father's old pocket watch and found it to just start ticking again, as if nothing had changed and no time had ever passed.  

Over the next several days, the others pretended like Lucy and I were mad, like Narnia wasn’t real even when we saw it with our very own eyes.  

It was a warm day and the great outdoors supposedly called us to go out and play cricket. I sat in the shade of a large oak tree with Lucy, drawing Mr. Tumnus likeness into the dirt with a stick. Suddenly I hear a loud crash and we all look up, staring at the house before hurrying inside. Within the professor's study Edmund had broken a window and knocked down a suit of armor.

“Well done Ed,”

Peter was clearly stressed about the situation at hand,

“You balled it!”

They nearly started to argue when we all heard Mrs. McCreedy start to storm up the stairs. Looking at all of them I quickly grab hold of Peter’s hand to keep up with them, running to find a place to hide from her. Upstairs, through rooms, down halls, all over the house, trying to find the right place to hide.  

Edmund led us into the spare room and opened the wardrobe,

“Come on!”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

But we could hear the house keeper just outside, still looking for us, so into the wardrobe we ran. I followed close behind Edmund, knowing we’d come out the other side. Everyone shuffles through the coats and deeper in, complaining about the tight space of it all. Till we hit the cold air and fell into the snow. I looked up and around, smiling then turned to Peter and Susan.

We got to see their reaction of Narnia for the first time.

“This is impossible.”

I grinned at her reaction and fell back into the snow; it was freezing but it was amazing.  

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just your imagination.”

“I don’t suppose saying were sorry will quiet cover it.”

“No, it wouldn’t... But that might!”

Lucy throws a snowball at Peter and I quickly join in, laughing as we pelt each other with snow. Laughing at each other it just made us all colder, but it was fun, more fun than any of us had in possibly years. Peter hits Edmund in the arm which nearly causes an argument. Looking around with a big smile on my face I walk over when Peter starts to hand out coats, practically bouncing with excitement for the thought of going on an adventure.  

Even when we were chased by the agents of the witch, dragged down tunnels while avoiding wolves and thinking we were caught by the witch it was jarring but it’s the type of books my father would read. We stayed huddled in a small snow cave Peter having hands over both mine and Lucy’s mouths, petrified of being caught. Then we do scream when Mr. Beaver ducks back down.

“Come on, come on! I hope you’ve all been good, because there's someone here to see you!”

My heart was racing and I crawl out first, wanting to see who was there if it made Mr. Beaver excited. Before us stood a man with a red coat, his hair was as white as the snow and several reindeer pulled his magical sleigh.

“Merry Christmas sir.”

“It certainly is Lucy, since you have arrived.”

Lucy walks towards him with a big smile and I followed, tugging my fur coat closer around me.  

“We thought you were the witch...”

I fidgeted with the sleeves of my coat, embarrassed.  

“Yes, well. In my defense Maude, I’ve been driving one of these longer than the witch.”

Stepping forward, Susan spoke up,

“I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia.”  

“No, not for a long time, but the hope you have brought your majesties, is finally starting to weaken the witches' power. Still I dare say you could do with these.” 

He turns with a laugh and pull the large bag from the back of his sleigh, starting to open it and push aside toys of all kinds.  

“Presents!”

Lucy rushes forward to look inside, excited by the thought of something new. One by one we are all given weapons to use in our battle. Healing juice and a dagger for Lucy, a bow plus a horn to call for help for Susan, a sword and shield for Peter that was beautifully engraved, and a seemingly bottomless bag along with my own smaller sword for myself.  

Father Christmas gave us the strength and hope to continue on, the tools we would need and a boost to our bravery. Putting my father's pocket watch into the bag, I look around at everyone getting comfortable carrying their new weapons before we continue toward the stone table.  

When the ground turned from white to green, we all left our coats hanging on tree branches, I tied my sweater around my waist and ran ahead with Lucy. Both of us giggling and feeling so free. The air was turning warm, filling with voices, more voices then either of us had heard since leaving London.  

Coming up to the camp grounds full of Narnian soldiers we slow and fall back to stand with Susan and Peter, staring at the larger creatures in mild fright. A horn gets blown from the hill, causing me to jump slightly and look around. Quickly getting lost in the surroundings of it all, it felt like a dream, more than any dream I’d actually had.  

The further we walked into the camp, the more I felt at home in Narnia, in those moments I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Coming up to one of the largest tents around, several people had come to follow us in and Peter slows to a stop before pulling his sword lamely,

“We have come to see Aslan,”

He spoke awkwardly and looked around to check her was doing the right thing. Behind us the army took a knee and bowed their heads, my heart started to race and I looked to Peter to see what to do. He lowered his sword and faced the tent, so we all remained standing as Aslan, the great lion came out of his tent then and only then did we go to our knees and bow.

He was the most incredible creature I’d ever seen.  

“Welcome Peter, son of Adam. Welcome Susan, Lucy and Maude, daughters of Eve. And welcome to you Beavers, you have my thanks, but where it the fifth?” 

We then stood and Peter cleared his throat slightly,

“It’s why we're here sir. We need your help.”

I shift awkwardly and glance at Susan,

“We had a little trouble along the way.”

“Our brother has been captured by the white witch.”

Aslan nods his head slightly,

“Captured? How could this happen?”

Mr. Beaver steps forward, folding his paws,

“He betrayed them, your majesty.”  

The army behind us quickly gets into an uproar, turning I look over my shoulder at them all, feeling worried they wouldn’t trust us or help Edmund. Peter looks around before standing up straighter,

“It’s my fault really. I was too hard on him.”

I take Lucy’s hand as we move to stand around Peter,

“We all were... But sir, he’s out family.”

I finally spoke up for the first time and none of them disagreed with me,

“I know young one, but that only makes the betrayal worse. This may be harder than you think.”  

Aslan nodded towards Peter and they walked off together before several women, including Mrs. Beaver escorted Susan, Lucy and I to get changed into clothes better suited for Narnia. Along with getting washed up.  

They were gentle and showed their care before letting the three of us have our space to clean up, giggling like mad women. That was until the wolves came, chasing us into a tree. It felt like for a few minutes the war was miles away, either war was miles away and yet here it was trying to eat us alive. The wolf tried to kill Peter but he got the better of him, which amazed all but Aslan. He knew Peter could do it before we did.  

As the sun began to set, we all were settling in at camp the best we could, waiting for news on Edmund. We all cared and even thought I had little chance to get to know him, there was a connection to this family of strangers and I was coming to really care for them. When he did come back, the past was in the past, in more ways than one and we all showed him we cared for him.

Once we were all fed and rested, training began and even though it was deadly serious I don’t think I have ever had more fun in my life. It was truly a change in fate. Narnia was better than any dream and it’s real. The war was soon though and tensions were high, higher so when the White Witch came for Edmund’s blood. We knew the battle would be soon and that was when I started to get genuinely scared.  

Our tents were quiet that night, the anticipation for tomorrow was building and I was completely unable to sleep. Much like the night I’d left London or the night my father died. Gently opening the bad, I push around the spare supplies inside and pull out the pocket watch, it was quietly ticking away. I could hear the swish of fabric from outside and sit up at the same time as Lucy. She gets up and quickly wakes us Susan. I get up and gather my stuff, pulling on a cloak and following the girls out.

The three of us followed Aslan quietly, sneaking behind him. It was another odd circumstance, being out in the middle of the night felt so normal here but in London it would have been just dangerous. We followed several feet behind and hid behind trees while trying to remain unseen. Aslan stalled and glances back,

“Shouldn’t you three be in bed.”

We kind of looked at each other before stepping forward and closer to him, I messed with the edge of my cloak,

“We couldn’t sleep.”

“Please Aslan, couldn’t we come with you?”

Susan kept her voice down and we all walked up to stand around him,

“I would be glad of the company, for a little while.”

We stood with him, I brushed a hand over his mane, incredible worried about him and why we were out in the night,

“Thank you.”

His voice was rough and he sounded far older than any of could have guessed or even preserved. I wrap my fingers through his fur, holding onto him while we walked.  

The four of us walked for several miles in silence, just listening to the sounds of the night, Narnia was very different then England and the night air smelled of flowers.

“It is time. From here, I must go alone.”

“But Aslan-”

“You have to trust me. For this must be done. Thank you, Susan. Thank you, Lucy. Thank you, Maude. And farewell.”

He turned away from us and continued walking, I looked to Susan and Lucy wanting to know what they planned to do before I followed Aslan myself. He was out friend and wherever he was going, he shouldn’t be alone. Susan rested a hand on Lucy’s shoulder before nodding and hurrying a different direction. Biting my lip, I hurried to follow them, resting a hand on the hilt of my sword so it wouldn’t swing all over the place.  

We came up and crouched behind a fallen tree, to see torches and part of the witch's army surrounding some stone structure. We looked at each other but stayed put, too shocked by the scene to do much of anything. I covered my mouth when they knocked him down, starting to tie him up. This is what the witch was capable of and it was terrifying.  

“Why doesn’t he fight back?”

I looked at Susan then to Lucy, thinking about something I’d been told by my father, ‘A real leader, when he sees mistakes being made will talk to the mistake maker, not punish them but lift them up so they learn.’ I looked back towards where bound him.

It went silent for a moment before they started to band their weapons on the ground, I was shaking from both fear and anger. They were going to hurt him and there was nothing we could do.  

“Tonight, the deep magic will be appeased! But tomorrow, we will take Narnia forever!”

We couldn’t hear what she said after that, my heart was racing till she shouted again,

“Die!”

It was like my whole world stopped, like all of Narnia held its breath as the great lion died. Tears fell down my face and I kept my hand over my mouth, preventing my own screams. Turning slightly, we all fell and held onto one another desperately. Sobbing into our fallen embrace.  

We held onto each other until the witch and her troops were gone, then we made our way to Aslan, resting as if asleep on the stone table. We sat with him, wanting nothing more for him to wake up when we drifted to sleep on him, protecting his remains.

I woke up when the sun began to rise, brushing my fingers over Aslan with his shaved fur. It brought more tears to my eyes, though I hadn’t known Aslan long he had become a dear friend. Susan sits up and looks around, rubbing her eyes before gently shaking awake Lucy.

“We should go.”

She stepped down from the stone table and went to help Lucy, I jumped down with them shivering from the breeze.

“It’s so cold.”

Lucy and I spoke nearly at the same time, I wrapped my cloak around myself, trying to feel the warmth of spring that had just existed yesterday.  Walking down the steps and away from this place, we all glances back before continuing forward. Then the ground shook and cracked, I fell to my knees.  

“Susan!”

I turned to Lucy and followed where she looked before standing, gawking at the broken and empty stone table.  

“Where’s Aslan?”

“What have they done?”

I brushed my fingers along the broken edge of the table, my heart aching before the sun shined in my eyes, blinking I looked toward it and my breath was taken away.  

“Aslan!”

We all ran towards him, the past hours of heart ache washing away, the warmth of spring returning, the fear of a life without Aslan vanishing. I held onto his fur, listening to him but just so thankful he was alive.  

“Climb on my back, we have far to go and little time to get there. You all may want to cover your ears.”

Lucy and I grinned at each other before climbing on behind Susan, then I covered my ears as Aslan roared his mighty roar. While a battle waged in a far-off field, we saved those who'd been turned to stone by the witch. Even helping in the battle, with Aslan on our side it was like they surrendered. Though our hearts stopped again when Edmund was wounded, my bag of holding had no healing properties but Lucy had that within the bottle at her waist. 

Our family of five saved Narnia that day and our army traveled east, to the shining castle of the five thrones. Cair Paravel on the eastern ocean.  

The halls shine and the thrones glittered, the say we were crowned was one of beauty, all of us dressed in the finest of clothes Narnia could offer. This castle was our home, a place built for us, and we didn’t know for so long. We walked with Aslan up to the thrones the first time, seeing a beautiful future ahead of us. Peter went to the middle throne, with Susan on his right and Edmund on his left, Lucy was on the other side of Susan and I was on the other side of Edmund.

“To the glittering eastern sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant.”

My heart was racing, it felt so unreal and perfect, Mr. Tumnus rested Lucy’s crown upon her head.  

“To the vast central fields, I give you Queen Maude, the Thoughtful.”

Looking to Lucy, I was smiling before facing front again as Mr. Tumnus brought me my own crown to wear, I smile at him, having gaps in my teeth from where I’d lost them previously.

“To the great western wood, King Edmund, the Just... To the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan, the Gentle... And to the clear northern sky! I give you High King Peter, the magnificent.”

We all took a step back and sat on our thrones, hearts racing and smiles bright.

“Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens.”  

Then the celebration started and Aslan left us, not for forever, but he was no tame lion. There was music and dancing, Edmund and I danced for quite a while, laughing and loving Narnia. The celebrations lasted for several days then came the time to actually rule and learn what that meant, but we were all ready for the challenge.  

Most of that first spring and summer, we didn’t spend within the castle walls or even with each other. Away learning of the places in Narnia we were to all rule over, firstly the ones we were crowned for then to learn of the others to a lesser extent.  

The vast central fields had once been covered in snow, with no one living there and now, farms were returning and people moves back to the homes of their ancestors. I learned how to tend plants and prep ground, spending that first spring and summer barefoot in the fields with Narnians and learning of my place in this world. Just as the others did, Lucy was upon ships learning to sail and fish, Edmund was in the woods learning to hunt and trade, Susan was in the south with larger villages learning the way their traditions held, and Peter spent his time in the north learning the ways of battle, how to be a predator instead of pray.  

We saw each other nearly every week non the less, growing together and learning so much, and when fall came around we all returned to Cair Paravel and if anything, the time apart brought us closer together. The fall was cooler than the spring and people began to get scared, we did a little but we knew the witch was gone and that seasons were a normal and regular thing.  

It was mid fall and I was practicing my sword work with Edmund down in one of the courtyards, Lucy sat on an old stump watching us work when it started to hail. At first none of us noticed it, to focused on our own activities. The ground started to turn white and it began to get cold, I looked to Edmund and my heart began racing. I could see the fear in his eyes, sliding my sword into its sheath before grabbing his hand and then Lucy’s pulling them inside.

“Peter! Susan!”

My call was more of a shriek, both Edmund and Lucy were stiff even as I dragged them further into the castle, trying to remember where the common room was, hoping that there would be a fire in there. I could hear running footsteps but my nerves were already on edge so I shove the other two behind me and draw my sword again, on Peter. He lifted his arms up in the air.

“Easy their soldier, what's the matter?”

Lowering it slowly, my hands were shaking.

“Peter, I... it started snowing.”

His eyes widen and he nodded, taking Lucy’s hand when she hurried to him.

“It’s going to be alright. Just a small storm. It’s winter then spring, it won’t last forever. When Aslan shakes his mane, there will be spring again. Well that already happened so there will be another spring.”

We might be kings and queens, but we were all still children. The winter we’d walked into left each of us scared in more ways than one. Peter led us to the common room and stoked the fire, making it far warmer than it needed to be but we could see the hail through the windows still. I sat on one of the many cushions and stared out the window at the hail before getting back up.  

Lucy and Edmund sat by the fire, both kind of shivering. It was the first time we’d experienced cold since the White Witch was alive, we all assumed it would be bad. Looking at them I follow Peter out of the room, knowing he’d need help, knowing the Narnian’s would react just as badly or worse. Catching up quickly I take his hand and look up at him.

“To the first fall.”

He nods and squeezes my hand gently.

“To the first fall... You doing alright Maude?”

Smiling was a slight struggle, but I shrug.

“I’ll be alright. We have things to take care of anyways.”

He frowned and brushed his hand over my hair.

“You’re just as young as Lucy, yet you act like an adult... You should be in there with them.”

Smiling shyly, I kick at the skirt of my dress.

“I can sit on a throne and pretend to be warm. Back... somewhere I... I used to pretend to be warm.”

He nods slowly and stops me, turning me back around.

“Well go enjoy the warmth and comfort of the common room. Susan and I can handle the politics for a while.”

He took off my crown for a second, ruffling my hair before putting it back on my head. I smiled at him and walked back to the common room, feeling a bit sad by his reaction to me.

Returning to the room it was a livelier then when I left it, Mr. Tumnus taking up residents inside to join the warmth. Music was playing quietly and Lucy was back to her happy self, though Edmund still was staring out the window.

That winter was colder than any day in the last hundred years, blizzards were horrific and the only ones leaving Cair Paravel was Peter and Susan. Most of the that winter the three of us sat on our thrones and dealt with the politics that could come through the snow to the castle. Most nights we slept in the common room, dragging the feather beds from our rooms to sleep near the warmest fire.  

Then we had spring again, when the snow melted away, the Narnians celebrated like we had won the war all over again, naming the celebration after us. A celebration of spring that would happen every year after. Anything before our lives in Narnia faded to void, feeling as if it were nothing more than a dream. My father’s pocket watch remained in the bottom of my bag for years.

When Mr. Tumnus told us of the white stags return to Narnia and what it could it, it wasn’t a question of if we’d go on the hunt, more so when we would go on the hunt. I spent time laughing with Lucy while we packed simple things of food and supplies for the trip. Brushing a hand through my hair I sighed heavily, my thoughts elsewhere for a moment.  

“Maude, are you alright?”

It was Edmund who asked, having come up to put his bag on Phillip. I turned to him, smiling slightly shyly before nodding.

“Yes, quite alright just thinking of what we would wish for is all.”

That wasn’t what I was thinking about of course, but Edmund didn’t need to know what I was thinking.  

“I think we’re all thinking that.”

He grins before being shoved by Peter as he came out to the stables with Susan. I laugh before climbing onto my own horse, Lillian. She was a beauty but no longer was one who liked my risky habits in battle.  

“Are we going to stand around all day or go find this stag?”

With a shout of agreement, the others all climbed onto their horses and ran off ahead of Lillian and me. The wind blew through my hair as the horses' hurries through the woods, my braids catching in my crown.

The five of us were laughing like loons, loving the feeling of late summer early fall. We road for an hour before the white stag was spotted, it kept bouncing in and out of view. I was taking up the back of the line as usual, being the youngest among five royals didn’t often have its perks.  

Lillian slowed and I pulled on the reins to make her stop, seeing her shortness of breath I slid off her back in a fluid motion. Patting her side, I smile brightly.

“Take a rest Lillian, I can run for a while. Catch up when you can.”

She bowed her head gravely.

“Thank you, your highness.”

Nodding firmly, I run ahead to try and catch up with the others. Soon being able to hear their voice I pick up the pace before nearly running smack into Edmund and Phillip.

“Have you all caught the stag without me?”

My smile was one of mischiefs' sarcasm but looking at all their faces it told me something was likely wrong. A lamppost stood in the area all alone.

“Spare ‘Oom.”

Lucy’s voice was quiet but the name rang a bell to me, as if from a dream. Then Lucy took off into the dense forest.

“Oh, not again!”

Peter shouted before the other three followed. Scowling I move to go around the dense trees to catch them all on the other side, starting to grin once I reached the other side. Waiting. I waited for several minutes before heading in and coming out the other side in a different spot then I had thought, looking around quickly I turn to Phillip.

“Did they come out?”

All the horses shook their heads and my heart dropped, I hurry to Phillip and climb onto his back, grabbing the reins and turning him roughly.  

“Back to Cair Paravel, we need to send out a search party. Who knows where they disappeared to in there...”

He took off as fast as he could manage, I clung desperately to the reins, my heart racing. I glance back at the lamppost till it was no longer visible through the trees. The winds whipped through my hair violently, the pit in my stomach became bottomless. Riding through the gates I got off quickly and ran for the doors, lifting my skirts to get there faster. It was already quieter in Cair Paravel, as if somehow the building knew it needed to be in hushed tones.

I found out search party quickly and they searched that area for hours, only coming out when they found four crowns. I stood before them, the only one wearing a crown among a land of thousands, for the first time in my life I didn’t know what to do.

Within the first year of the four royals going missing, Telmarnies declared war on Narnia and her allies. Although I had grown up in Narnia, I grew more in the next five years than I had when the other four remained. Narnia needed their High King, so that was what I became not by title but, someone who tried to rule like Peter had, yet I was not Peter. I went from being Queen Maude, the Thoughtful to Queen Maude, the Fierce.  

I didn’t think the name suited me, but it stuck soon after the first few battles on Narnian soil began. For five years, I ruled and controlled an army, one that was being slaughtered daily and yet would still choose to fight for someone so unskilled. I tried so hard to be the others, to know how the five of us worked together and make that into one person and I thought I succeeded.

We signed a treaty, giving both armies peace for the holiday, trying to negotiate what they wanted with Narnia. Time to recuperate and see what assets we had. I sat in my throne most of that day, trying to figure out what to do. Our armies were hungry and tired, there was no sign of true peace on the horizon and if we surrendered then everything any Narnian stood for would be lost.  

It was late and I brought my things down to the treasury, putting my sword and bag within my chest. Looking around my heart ached at the faces that looked towards mw, if only they knew I was trying my best.

Returning to my room, I fell into a deep sleep.  

Awakened in the middle of the night by the castle shaking, shouts and screams were I the air as Cair Paravel was attacked.  

“Your Highness!”

A fawn girl came running in and grabbed my arms, pulling me from my bed and pushing me towards the door.

“You must hide your highness, run and hide!”

I pull away from her grip and rest my hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down.

“Why? I have a duty to protect Cair Paravel!”

She shook her head and began to push me again.

“They are after your life, they called for you and want your head on a pike!”

I grit my teeth, my anger beginning to boil, I went to reach for where my sword would typically rest at my waist only to remember I had foolishly left it in the treasury.

“They’ve already invaded the lower levels! You must go!”

“I cannot-”

“They don’t want just your head! Their monsters in men's clothing, please your highness, for the future of Narnia you must go.”

Nodding slowly, I head down the stairs, hearing my soldiers fight down in the throne room. I ran into the people I cared for most as they were both trying to fight and flee; Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers wished the same for me as the fawn girl did. Dressed in merely a night gown, taking a small bag of food from Mrs. Beaver, I fled. The head of my guard waited with Astrid, our fasted horse.  

“Go your Majesty. Astrid will bring you someplace safe and hopefully return with you in the morning.”

I nodded and climbed on, giving the familiar centaur a hug.

“Till morning then.”

Gripping the reins Astrid took off through the side gates, running out into the trees. We were barely out of the gate when the Telmarine army was upon us. Arrows were shot at Astrid and I, horrible words shouted, and large dogs barked. I leaned down to give Astrid more speed, trying to avoid the flying arrows. Looking back, I could see Cair Paravel was under siege and many parts ablaze, including the tower I had called home. An arrow lands in my shoulder, making me shout and I fall off Astrid, thankful for the darkness as the Telmarine continue to follow her instead of noticing me.  

Once they were past, I stand and pull the arrow from my shoulder, pressing a hand to it as I cursed all Telmarine especially their King Caspian. Continuing inland, my shoulder bled through the white gown. Pain wracked my body and I longed for my bag of holding, full of bandages along with other medical supplies.  

Silent asking for a sign of a way to fix this I kept walking, coming into a ring of light, then nearly smack into the lamppost.  

Turning quickly to face that patch of woods my heart sank and I looked around.

“Are you telling me to leave? Or will I find the others in there?”

There was nothing but silence. I face those woods and sigh, then turn to try and see Cair Paravel. All I could see through the trees was the light from the fire, my heart sank.

“Spare ‘Oom it is then...”

I turn back to the dense patch of woods and head in. It turned from trees to fur, then I ran into people all complaining before five of us toppled out of the wardrobe.  

Memories quickly flood back, feeling more recent then the last twenty years I had lived in Narnia. Looking around quickly I smiled at Edmund, all of us smiling at each other before the door opened and the Professor walked in.

“What were you all doing in the wardrobe?”

Peter looked around at all of us before looking back to the professor.  

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you sir.”

He tossed the cricket ball back to Peter, the one that had broken the stained glass all that time ago, smiling and crouching down some.

“Try me.”

Quickly everyone breaks out into the tale of our life in Narnia, I kept my mouth shut only thinking about how Narnia would be taken over if we couldn’t get back soon. Wrapping Edmund in a hug I watch Peter and Lucy explain it all, the fifteen years we had lived there.  

It shocked me to understand they thought I’d followed them into Spare ‘Oom, the five years I had lived without them completely unknown to them. The story lasted well into the night, till we all got tired and were helped to bed.  

I didn’t even lay in bed for more than twenty minutes before I snuck down to the wardrobe with Lucy, trying to get back into Narnia.

“I don’t think you’ll get back in that way.”

I turn quickly with Lucy, facing the Professors who was sat in a chair in the corner of the room. Not a word even had to pass our lips before he answered the silent question.

“Well you see, I’ve already tried.”

“Will we ever go back?”

My voice was quiet and full of pain.  

“Well I expect so, it will probably happen when you’re not looking for it.”

He offers each of us his hands, so we take them and start to head out of the room.

“I’ll say, it’s best to keep your eyes open.”

We left the spare room. The only sounds other than our footsteps was my fathers pocket watching ticking, making noice for the first time in a long time. 

He helped us back to bed, then went to bed himself. Neither of us could sleep, nor could Susan so we went to the boy's room where they had already dragged the mattresses off the beds to the floor, trying to get some rest. The three of us joined the two of them and were able to get some sleep, like the winter nights in the common room when rain would pelt the windows.

We spoke of Narnia often those first few days, going outside and practicing with the professor's swords and armor, much to the distaste of Mrs. McCreedy. Soon enough though the memories of England grew stronger than the ones of Narnia, though none of us forgot. Feeling older than we were but young enough to still play.  

Within months the Pevensies’ went back to London, I stayed with the professor while my mother was away in the war as a nurse, having completed her training soon before my grandmother passed. I studied and learned with the professor, we talked of Narnia often and only he knew that Cair Paravel had fallen.  

The world of Narnia was mysterious and glorious, when they all saw and all believed, when we lived their we brought peace to the land. 

[cbseung]

cobblestones: modern prince hyunjin au - part 10

[masterlist]

[pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3] [pt 4] [pt 5] [pt 6] [pt 7] [pt 8] [pt 9] [pt 10] [final]

pairings: hwang hyunjin x reader

wc: 2,600

description: the long awaited ball is finally here! but you technically don’t know how to ballroom dance,, luckily someone here is able to teach you!

a/n: it’s 3:30 am and i haven’t slept so TECHNICALLY it’s still saturday night for me 〜(^∇^〜）hope you enjoy the second to last part! (long part today so i can end this series on the next part (⸝⸝⍢⸝⸝) ෆ )

fiancée?

what?

all these thoughts start running through your head

once again

like

how long has he known and why did he tell you he had feelings for you if HE KNEW he was already engaged and if he knew he was engaged why did he even confess to you if it wasn’t just to play with your feelings and-

“oh! y/n!! it’s so great to finally meet you!!! hyunjin has said so much about you!!” mirai says, cutting your mental breakdown/overthinking/internal rant

so he HAS been talking about you

but more importantly what HAS he been saying about you?

you probably look like a dork because the shock hasn’t worn off yet 

“hey mirai?” hyunjin says

“hm?”

“do you mind if i talk to y/n privately?”

“no not at all! i’ll let you two friends catch up!!”

ah right

friends

because that’s all you guys were after all

you went on two (2) dates of course you weren’t dating

you even said no labels

but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck!!!!

so mirai walks back into the palace

and it’s just you and hyunjin

alone

....

and you wait for him to break the silence because he’s kinda got A LOT to explain to you

“so.. uh how are you” he says

??????

i’m sorry?

the first thing he asks

after he hasn’t seen you for a week 

and he ditched his promise to take you on a date

is how are you??

how does he THINK you are?????

you get like

really mad?

and you could never ever conceal your emotions cause your face just gives it away

so hyunjin 

obviously

can tell that you’re angry

and he sighs

“look, y/n”

at this point you’re fuming

like you’re about to explode

“i was going to tell you.. bu-”

“when? hyunjin? when we went to paris? barcelona? during many many coffee conversations we had?  when we were on the ferris wheel where i told you i liked you back? hyunjin, engagements can’t happen overnight! you’d have to have known!” 

so you’re trying NOT to cry

because it’s stupid 

crying over a boy

who’s only taken you out on two dates

but you can’t help it o(╥﹏╥)o o(╥﹏╥)o o(╥﹏╥)o

“y/n.. i found out when you got here.. remember when you and felix went to brighton? mom told me then, something about keeping the relations between japan and korea happy”

“what? this isn’t the 18th century??”

“i know,, i think it’s a good idea”

“but-”

“but what? it’s almost like you wanna get married to me, wow you call a girl pretty once” hyunjin laughs without a readable emotion 

hahahah

if that was a joke

that was a sucky joke 

you take a deep breath

because you’re trying not to scream and yell at hyunjin

and even worse

you’re trying not to show him how you really feel

so you take a few breaths to calm yourself down

“you know what? i was trying to be a friend and worry about your future and your feelings because i wouldn’t want my friends to be forced into anything that they didn’t want. because that’s all we ever were. friends.” you seethe. “i’ll see you at the ball prince hyunjin”

with your head held high

you walked back into the palace

really fast

because tbh you felt the tears coming

you only wanted one person and one person only

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

you take the rest of the day to recuperate before talking felix or yeji and having to explain yourself

so that night you drag yourself to you and yeji’s shared room and call felix as well

because the bffs need to be updated

“hey yeji.. felix..”

“y/n! my baby!” yeji says

you can always count on yeji to be protective over you

and she has never let you down!!

unlike..

oh look at that you’re crying again

now yeji and felix are concerned

“y/n??????? what happened????? who do i need to fight????” they both say

you sob/laugh

a great sound

and you explain everything to yeji and felix

literally from the beginning so you know that they got the full story

from hyunjin spilling coffee on you to your verbal spats to paris to shopping to barcelona to him confessing to your try out date to you confessing to your actual date that ALL leads up to the confrontation you had with him in the garden

“thaT LITTLE RAT” yeji yells angerly, “felix, you’re his brother wtf is wrong with him??” 

but felix also looks kinda shocked

“it’s kinda weird that i haven’t heard anything about the engagement,,, maybe he really did find out last night”

“even so! he practically ghosted her for the past week!”

“yeah that’s.. still really weird..”

“but enough about him,, y/n are you okay?”

“i.. don’t know.. do i JUST like him? or do i ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰᶦᵐˀ ”

yeji sighs and replys

“y/n.. what you feel is what you feel, and no one can convince you otherwise” 

“yeah don’t worry about it y/n, you’re leaving soon and we’ll have tons of fun at the ball and you won’t have to worry about him anymore!”

ah but that

kinda makes you sad

it was a really fun summer 

all thanks to hyunjin

but it’s fine

he’s getting married!!

what can you do???

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

IT’S THE DAY OF THE BALL :00

who knew this day would come

also you’re leaving for home tomorrow (｡•́︿•̀｡)

you spent the rest of your days in london with felix and yeji

doing fun bff stuff that you never got to do

you also picked up your dress and did last minute shopping for the ball

because you’RE GONNA LOOK GORGEOUS 

you also spent the last days avoiding hyunjin like THE PLAGUE

he was eating breakfast? guess you were just gonna have to starve

walking down the hallway? you yeeted yourself into the nearest room 

it helped i guess because if you didn’t see him or talk to him then he CAN’T HURT you and your feelings can’t resurface !!!!!!

but anyways

the morning of the ball: hectic

everyone in the palace was running around setting it up 

you were trying your best to help yeji and felix who were off supervising everything 

(apparently this isn’t their first ball,,,,, royal kids am i right ╮(╯▽╰)╭ )

the morning speeds by and yeji yells at you that it’s time to get ready 

this is the really fun part

the whole transformation look

like you don’t USUALLY go all out 

but now you have an excuse!!

it’s a ball!!

at the buckingham palace!!

that yOU helped plan!!!!!

yeji hired a hair stylist and a makeup artist to help with this whole shabang

so you spent the next couple hours chilling and hanging out with yeji while you prepped for the ball!!

felix also popped in to hang out with you guys

and you were really happy! 

but surprise surprise

your mind drifted off to hyunjin 

you just hope he’s happy you know

 ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

by the time the ball rolls around you and yeji (finally) finish getting ready

and you make your way down the stairs 

and felix is waiting for you 

and surprise suprise

hyunjin is down by the stairs too

at this point

you know you look good

and you’re gonna have to face him eventually

might as well do it when you look good right?

“hey hyunjin..!!”

“ ᵒʰ oH hi.. y/n.. you look..-”

“great! i know!” you say as you wink and laugh

YEAH YOU LAUGHED BUT LIKE WAS THAT GENUINE BRO

“where’s mirai?” you ask 

crossing fingers he’d say that he dumped her and that he wants you but like

that’s not reality

“i’m right here! y/n you look lovely!” she says

“aw mirai you do too!”

you glance at hyunjin

WHO’S STILL LOOKING AT YOU

luckily 

felix is there to whisk you away before it got too suffocating yaknow

“y/n!! you look stunning!!” felix says

“thanks bro you’re not too bad yourself!!” you say

“come on we have to go outside to greet the press and then we can get our BALL on” 

“omg please don’t ever say that” you say as you and felix both laugh

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

so

you go outside and take those press photos with felix

and then it’s hyunjin and mirai’s turn

and you hear the other guests murmur

“ah did you hear that they’re going to announce their engagement today?”

“oh? the prince of south korea and the princess of japan make such a cute couple”

and you’re just like 

they’re not wrong

he’s really pretty, she’s really pretty

he’s a prince, she’s a princess

it’s almost like this match was so carefully planned out

...

anyways

you and felix make it into the ball

and sees the fruits of your labor

and it’s like ??? STUNNING if you do say so yourself

throughout the night, you’re having a lot of fun

eating and talking and laughing with yeji and felix

and next thing you know you hear felix say

“hey y/n it’s time to ballroom dance”

“whAT”

so APPARENTLY you HAVE to dance 

because it’s a ball and APPARENTLY it’s what you do 

“FELIX i don’t know how to dance!”

“it’s okay! i’ll teach you!”

so if you didn’t know

you kinda have two left feet

so you’re gonna look 

a mess

so 5 minutes and 10 broken toes latter

and felix says

“wow, you’re actually kinda bad”

“WOW THANKS”

“we’re gonna need an expert hm?”

“yes please”

so you’re standing there

waiting for felix to come back

“hey.. felix said you needed to learn how to dance?”

oh

you know that voice anywhere

you spent a month and a half with it

OH WAIT

OH NO

you frantically look around for felix

becAUSE HOW DARE HE GET HIM TO TEACH YOU!?!

unfortunately you don’t see him 

SO I GUESS

YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO 

SLOW DANCE WITH HYUNJIN?

NO THANKS

“uh um i- haha you-you’re the expert?”

“i mean i guess? i dance a lot in my free time so ..”

OH RIGHT BECAUSE HE WANTS TO BE A DANCER

HOW COULD YOU FORGET

sigh “i guess you’ll do, come on i don’t wanna embarrass myself more than i already have”

“ouch i guess i’ll do?”

“yeah,, you’ll do” and you two crack a smile

JUST LIKE OLD TIMES AM I RIGHT

“okay so first, hold my hand”

“o..kay..”

“and put your other hand on my shoulder, and i’ll put my hand on your waist, okay?”

“you got it bud”

now you’re

HEAVILY AWARE of him and you and your hand in his hand and your hand on his shoulder and his arm on your waist

too much has happened it too little time!!

“okay, now step back when i step towards you, and move right when i move left and vice versa. got it?”

“got .. it..”

eventually

you got used to it

with a couple mistakes here and there

but you guys just laughed it off and continued dancing

BUT you got the hang of it

“you look beautiful today” you hear him say

now we’re gonna ignore the clench in your heart and say

“thanks bro, you don’t look bad yourself, prince hyunjin” you respond with a goofy grin

i can’t believe you just bro’ed him

“i can’t believe you just bro’ed me” he says

and now people just saw you and hyunjin laughing as you guys danced around the dance floor

because hyunjin made it fun!

you two were so lost in the moment

you two looked like you were in your own world

you two felt like you were the only two people in the world

he lifts your intertwined hands up and says

“spin!”

so you spin

a little too much

and hyunjin has to pull you back close to him

BUT HE PULLS you JUST

A LITTLE TOO CLOSE to HIS FACE

AND YOU FEEL YOUR BREATH HITCH

and he’s staring at your lips which makes you stare at his lips

and like look SO! SOFT! ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

AND BEFORE YOU KNOW IT

HE’S COMING CLOSER

AND YOU’RE LIKE

WOAH WAIT BRO

you step back so quick

and see hyunjin’s shocked face

“um, i-” you say, “i-i can’t”

“but y/n-” you hear him say but not before

you SPRINT as fast as you can to the gardens

because you know that the only place that’s safe

away from the ball, away from him, away from your feelings (but that doesn’t work out)

ah but too bad hyunjin FOLLOWS you

you make it through the doors when you hear a

“y/n!” hyunjin yells as he grabs your hand

you refuse to look back at him in fear your feelings overpower and do something you end up regretting

“talk to me,,” you hear, his voice cracks with a hint of sadness and laced with hurt

now this makes you look at him

because this HURTs your heart

and you see hyunjin’s eyes start to tear up

and you PHYSICALLY feel your heart breaking

but your mind (thank god) is still working and kicking and you refuse to give in

without hearing him out first

“you barely said anything to me, i haven’t seen you since i got back, i really,, miss you..” he says

“hyunjin,, i- i can’t,, be around you, and i know it’s selfish of me but i can’t be around you without wanting to hold your hand and kiss your cheek and boop your nose and i can’t be around you unless i want to fall in love with you more and more”

well apparently

youR MOUTH

THINKS FASTER

THAN YOUR BRAIN

BECAUSE YOU’RE 99.9% SURE YOU JUST TOLD HYUNJIN YOU LOVED HIM

“and you’re marrying mirai!” you exasperate, “i can’t do that to her, but please please be selfish for once! and do what you want to do” 

and be with me

“y/n i love you, but i can’t go against my parents’ orders..”

now you feel the wind knocked out of you

so 1) prince hwang hyunjin of south korea loves you back but 2) won’t do anything about it because he “can’t” go against his parent’s orders when he doesn’t even want to be prince in the first place?

but you respect him and his decisions

and you don’t wanna fight a fight you feel like you can’t win

so you crack a smile

a heartbroken

but small smile

“so this is it huh?” you say

“wh-what do you mean?” hyunjin stutters

“i go back home tomorrow silly, and you’re getting married soon! invite me and jinyoung to the wedding so i can meet him okay?” you say, nudging him

like you’re saying this

all trying not to cry

because if there’s one person you’re not crying in front of tonight

it’s hyunjin

you start walking past hyunjin until you stop before the doors that lead into the palace

“hey hyunjin,, thanks. for everything. this summer was everything i asked for and more! i’m glad i met you, i’m glad i met felix, and i’ll cherish the times we spent together. i’ll see you around.”

and those are the last words you say to him before going back to the ball

the last words you say to him for a while

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

a/n: last part coming soon! also down below is the dress i had in mind while writing this part 

[thosequeenboys]

Put a Little Love on Me (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

Summary & A/N: This fic was written for @acdeaky​ for the Secret Santa event, based on her request for a ‘homecoming, friends-to-lovers’ story.’  I selected our lovely lovelorn Joe.  The event was expertly planned and organized by @sohoneyspreadyourwings​ - Sabrina, Darling: so appreciate your clever idea and caring efforts to help us celebrate the holiday season!  And, MANY thanks and props to the amazingly creative – and supportive -- @warriorteam1924​ for providing story and title song ideas!  Happy holidays to you all!  

Warnings:  Here at The Fluff and Angst…

There’s no place like home…Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz was right, you mused, as you pulled your suitcase, clutching your purse through Heathrow Airport with one goal in mind:  curling up in your own warm bed in your tiny apartment and falling into a deep sleep tonight.  A museum fundraising consultant, you just wrapped an exciting gig at Tate Modern, rushing out of your last meeting to get to the airport on time.  Security took forever, and once you grabbed your bags and put on your shoes, you felt panicked upon hearing your flight was boarding--you had to go to the bathroom-and of course, the gate was the last one at the end of a long corridor.

As you glanced at your phone to check the time, you saw a message on your screen from your oldest and dearest childhood friend, Joe, an actor, who was taping a new show in LA.  You and Joe had been through all of life’s benchmarks and vicissitudes together: graduations, career ebbs and flows, romantic ups and downs, friend drama -- and every emotion under the sun.  You socialized with each other’s families and knew them all intimately.  As kids you set up intricate stories playing Pirate Ship and House.  Joe always added humor and mischievousness into the pretend games.  As college students, you travelled cross country.  Joe and you could always pick up where you left off, though these days, you often weren’t in the same place for very long.  It had been months since you had seen each other.  Nevertheless, you trusted each other implicitly.  You knew each other’s phone passcodes.  You served as each other’s emergency contacts. You had exchanged home keys in case of emergencies.  

You glanced at Joe’s message:

CHANGE OF PLANS

CHANGE OF PLANS.  You were dying to stop and read more, but you had two literal streams of urgency to address. You tossed your phone into your bag and moved your uncomfortable self as quickly as you could.  After ducking into a bathroom and accomplishing mission one, you tore out of the doorway and resumed your quick clip, eyeing yellow gate signs in your peripheral vision. 

Upon hearing ‘Final boarding, British Airways Flight 1907 to JFK New York’ you sprinted down the corridor and arrived at the gate panting, lining up behind the last few stragglers.  The agent welcomed you and you smiled, handing him your ticket.  You inched your fingers into your purse to grab your phone as you stepped forward down the boarding plank.

Your heart started to flutter as you read the rest of Joe’s messages:

Taping postponed, long story  

Headed back to NY

Catch up when you get back.  

HOT DATE TONITE!!!

You threw your phone back into your bag.

As you proceeded onto the plane, you felt your heart pounding, as those last three words kept repeating in your brain like an uncontrollable tick. HOT. DATE. TONITE.  As you walked down the aisle, you felt tears well up in your eyes. Sad and jealous feelings were kicked up like the autumn leaves that fluttered skyward when you and Joe jumped into the big pile his dad raked up every Autumn.  The emotions cascading through you overtook any rational thought, but you tried.  Of course he has a date. Why wouldn’t he have a date.  He should have a date….you tried to convince yourself.   But the problem was, you admitted as your vision became blurry through your tears, it wasn’t a date…with you.  It never was.  You didn’t let yourself think about it often, but when your guard was down and the thoughts crept in, you rationalized it was for the best, adding all the usual platitudes: you wouldn’t want to risk ruining the friendship; you probably weren’t the best match for each other anyway; you knew each other too well and would drive each other crazy; your careers were too complicated; it just wouldn’t work.  

With shaky hands, you hoisted your suitcase to the overhead bin and crawled into your window seat on the 777. You wiped your eyes and took a deep breath, which hitched as you fought your emotions. The Captain came on, “Uh…sorry folks, we have a bit of a delay.  Looks like we’re about 15th for take-off.”

The entire plane groaned.  Good thing you had an engaging novel to keep you entertained-and distracted.  You read, but your concentration didn’t last.  You finally let yourself think about the offer presented to you in the middle of your trip-a full-time job at The Getty Museum in LA.  You’d be able to settle down and not have to run from gig to gig-and through airports with a full bladder.   You needed to make the decision in the next few days – a scary, fork-in-the-road decision that would shape your career, your future and your home. You closed your eyes and conjured images of a possible West Coast future: I’d be safe and warm if I was in LA. California Dreamin’… (1)

Your thoughts of LA led to images of Joe who had been living there the last few months.  You retrieved your phone and started to type your response to his texts:

On the plane at Heathrow

Due to land JFK 6:00 EST

Let me know when you’re free so we can catch up

Your finger swayed over the phone keyboard.  You would wish any other friend a fun-and successful-date.  Here you were hesitating. Your conflicting feelings were out in full force.  You decided to don your Big Girl Pants.  Seriously though: you were over adulting at the moment.  You quickly typed the final line.

Have Fun!!

You sent the text and shut off your phone just as the plane turned the corner to the take-off runway and picked up speed, sinking you back into the seat. Feeling drowsy as the plane lifted through the clouds, you let sleep take over. You woke several hours later to a neck ache and a meal.   You ordered a glass of wine and settled in with your book.  

Once the wheels touched down in The Big Apple, on the other coast, you turned on your phone.  A few texts from friends and news updates appeared. Nothing from Joe.   Of course not, he must be on his date, you sighed. Perhaps, finally, your separate lives would prevent you from maintaining the relationship and the easiness - and comfort - you always found with each other. 

Your warm bed feeling more tangible, you got yourself through customs and out to a cab, which whisked you toward home as the skyline’s lights flickered outside your window.  Suddenly out of the corner of your eye, you saw a light beaming in your purse. You pulled out your lit phone and saw the message from Joe:

Wrong date.  Sigh.

Wrong lots of things, but now I realize what’s right.

Welcome home. Talk soon.

Wrong date? What the heck did that mean? Did he mix up the day for his date? What else is wrong?  Did something happen with his show?  And what is right? Thinking about it all made you more tired and emotionally overwrought.  You put your phone away and vowed to keep it away for the rest of the night.

The cab stopped with a sudden halt in front of your apartment building. You paid, gathered your bags and walked slowly toward the wrought iron lantern fixtures that adorned the front door and gave off a welcoming glow.  It was after midnight London time, and your body felt ready to fall into bed, the weighty duvet-covered comforter lulling you to sleep.

You dug into your bag for your keys as climbed the steps.  You opened your front door and saw the small light on your entry foyer table on.  That was strange.   But before your tired brain could slip into worry, you heard a familiar voice bellow ‘Hello, Madam’ in a British accent.   And you breathed.   Your face lit up instantly.  Your body relaxed and felt energized all at once, because you realized:  that voice, in your apartment tonight, unexpected, has always, always been the voice to ground you, warm you, soothe you, entertain you….love you. The voice of home.

Joe emerged through the kitchen, with a wide grin, carrying a wood tray with Hunan Delight take-out containers and a few lit votive candles.  You were entranced, but also a bit perplexed.    

“Um, Hi, uh, wow, this is a pleasant surprise.”  You uttered, truly shocked.

He walked past you a few steps into the living-dining area and put the tray down on the dining table, which he had set with placemats, dishes, cloth napkins, wine glasses and silverware. A low bouquet of freesia and tulips in yellows, pinks and purples dipped gracefully over a small glass vase. A bottle of Moscato was breathing.   After unloading the tray and flashing you a wink, he moved over to the stereo, and you followed him.  He pressed the button and the familiar strains of one of your favorite songs filled the air and Joe, ever the showman, able to emote and entertain in any setting, moved his hands in grand gestures as he sang along…

“Put a little love on me, put a little love on me. When the lights come up and there’s no shadows dancing I look around as my heart is collapsing ‘cause you’re the only one I need…to put a little love on me.” (2)

You sank into a chair watching him sing, enjoying his performance and letting the words sink in.  His playfulness and grandiosity turned serious and a bit sullen as the song progressed, and you could tell he was getting emotional.  By the last chorus, he had trouble getting the words out and he stopped singing. The song ended with Niall’s voice framing the moment.

When the track finished, he stared at you and started to speak:

“So, finally, for once, I ended the date tonight- such a bad date - before we finished our drinks. It was just so wrong. And then, afterwards, I had an entire conversation with myself, quite engaging actually, complete with jokes, historical and pop culture references, and a dollop of self-pity, followed by a kick in the ass – the Uber driver must have thought I was high.   And I realized, I admitted, finally – it’s you I was really having the conversation with. I knew just what you’d say.  And it’s you, I wanted the date with.  It’s always been you.  You’ve always been what’s right.  Always.”

You covered your mouth, feeling tears welling again.  “Oh Joe…..I’m so happy.  I…I can’t believe it,” you said as you stood up.  You felt that time and reality were suspended.  You stopped for a moment and replayed the last few minutes over in your mind, testing reality.  Finally, you spoke:  “I have to admit, when you wrote me you had a hot date, I felt really upset …..i finally admitted that I wanted your date to be me.”

“I’m so glad you felt that way. And, hey, thanks for jinxing my date,” Joe huffed, jokingly.  You both laughed.  “I felt it was time to just be honest.  I worried if you’d feel the same, but…I…felt it was better to know. And, I figured wooing you with your favorite song by your favorite celebrity crush, would hopefully seal the deal.” 

You laughed.  “It most certainly did.”

“It was the perfect song, though, I gotta hand it to that dude,” Joe smirked.  “So…will you…will you…put a little love on me?”

 “A lot of love” You smiled, and then more tears started to drip from your eyes.

“Babe…what’s wrong?” Joe touched your arm with concern.

“It’s good actually…I have this job offer from The Getty and…”

“OhmyGod! That’s fantastic!” Joe leaned into you and gave you a hug.  “Are you interested??”

“I am, but it’s hard to picture my life changing so much. Not travelling.  Leaving my family, my home…it’s a lot of change to imagine. And, that California sun will wrinkle me like a raisin.”  You smirked.

“True on all counts.  It’s an adjustment.  Well, LA’s felt like my second home for a while now….so we can create a new home together on ‘the OTHER coast’…. Home could be the Pennsylvania Turnpike, Indiana’s early morning dew, high up in the hills of California.  Home is just another word for you. (3) Let’s celebrate your new job – and our journey - with some Hunan Delight.” Joe kissed you gently on your cheek and pulled the chair out for you, before taking his own seat.  

You sat and poured the wine.  Raising your glass, you said, “Here’s to us-past us, present us, future us.”

Joe raised his glass and clinked yours, “Here’s to love.” (4)

Song Notes

 1.       California Dreamin’ by The Mamas and The Papas

2.       Put a Little Love on Me, by Niall Horan

3.       You’re my Home, by Billy Joel

4.       Here’s to Us, by Halestorm

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Time travel rescue pt.2; 11th Doctor x teen reader ft. Queen

*Author’s note*

Okay ya’ll so I hope you enjoyed the first part, now we get to pt.2 where Freddie and Roger take up majority of this chapter, so you get to see the craziness that I hoped I managed to get in based off of stories of their friendship and videos of them together so I hope I did this wonderful soulmate shipping justice. However fair warning that P**l Pr**ter makes his appearance so prepare your stomachs.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@platawnic

@bensrhapsody

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie​

@geek-and-proud​

____________________________________________________

The next morning I woke up and found myself in a hotel room of sorts.  At first I didn’t know what happened, it was all such a rush last night I—I had this dream that I had gone back to 1975 and actually met my favorite band, and that Roger actually allowed me to sleep in his room.

“Morning (y/n).” I heard that familiar soft voice call out from the kitchen.  Oh god it wasn’t a dream. I am actually in 1975 and I really did—or well currently meeting the band and Roger did give me his room for the night.  I looked up and said.

“Morning Roger.”

“How’d you sleep last night? The clothes work okay for you?” he asked.

“Yeah they—they worked out fine.”

“You hungry? I’m making eggs and cutting up some bread and bacon, I hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine. I’m—actually quite hungry.”

“Well come on over to the kitchen and I’ll put an extra plate.” I got out of the bed and followed him to the kitchen.  I sat down at the kitchen island bar and he said again, “I don’t know how you like your eggs, so I made them scrambled which is what I prefer. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Well then you’re lucky that scrambled eggs is my favorite. Besides sunny side up makes me yack.”

“I know right, why do people claim that’s the best way to make eggs?” he exclaimed.  Wow so Roger Taylor and I have the same view on how eggs should be prepared, that’s amazing.  He handed me my plate and he asked. “Shall I prepare a cuppa?”

“I wouldn’t mind a cuppa.”

“Coming right up.” He then prepared me my drink while he had some coffee.  As the two of us sat down around the island and ate he asked me. “How are the wounds?”

“Doesn’t hurt as much as it did last night. You and your friends really know how to be doctors.”

“Well even though Brian and I would’ve been different doctors, I don’t think we did too bad. But I will need to change out the bandages and put some more antiseptic cream on it. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Whatever you think is best Roger.”

After breakfast, he put away the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen and that’s when he grabbed the first aid kit under the sink and guided me over to the couch.

“Alright, let’s see how this looks.” He then took a pair of scissors and slightly snipped an area of the bandage before slowly unwrapping it allowing my arm to breathe.  Once the bandages were off, I could see the gnarly scars that I now bore on my arm. Long and thin but thankfully not so deep that I need stitches. “Well it seems to be closing up quite nicely. With how bad they were yesterday, I was beginning to think they wouldn’t. At least not in this speed.”

“Guess I just got enhanced healing powers or something.” I joked. He smiled and rubbed some more cream on my scars before taking another roll of bandages and wrapping it around my arm.  Just as he was about to finish, the door suddenly opened and there stood Freddie all dolled up and ready to head out.

“Let’s go my darlings it’s shopping time!”

“In a second Fred, I’m still wrapping up her arm.” Roger told him as he went back to wrapping my forearm delicately. Freddie came over and sat on the other side of me and he asked me.

“Did you sleep okay dear?”

“Yeah, like a baby actually.”

“Good. That’s just what you needed after what happened to you. But are you sure you don’t want to make a police report about this?” he said as he stroked his fingers through my hair.  Aww Freddie god bless you, why were you taken away from us so soon? We really could’ve used you in today’s society.

“I’m sure Fred. Besides I doubt they’d believe me. I didn’t even see their faces. They wore black masks over their faces so I couldn’t even see their faces.”

“Alright darling. Well once blondie’s done here, I know just the thing to help boost your spirits up. A nice, well deserved shopping day.”

“There, I’m done.”

“Marvelous my darlings, let’s go!” Freddie stood up gracefully and raised his hands over his head and clapped them once.

“Hold on you rotter, we still need to get dressed. I’d rather not go out in my pajamas in the bloody cold.” Roger guided me towards the bedroom once more and I said to him.

“Uhh Rog. What am I gonna wear?”

“Just relax love, I’m sure I got something.” He went through his closet and pulled out a pair of denim jeans as well as a queen hoodie that looked like he had taken from Deacy.  He also took out a fur coat and said. “Will this do?”

“Yeah. Again I really appreciate you sharing your clothes with me.”

“Like I said last night, it’s no trouble. When Queen was first starting off, we barely had enough money to buy new clothes so we pretty much shared clothes with each other. I think we each had a chance at wearing one shirt for different photoshoots on separate occasions.”

“Wow I—I never knew that.” Liar. Of course I knew that, I’ve seen the pictures of the guys wearing the same shirts on tumblr that someone posted.  Once again I got changed in the loo and once I got out, Roger went inside and proceeded to do his health and beauty stuff.

While he brushed his teeth and brushing through his long blonde hair, I couldn’t help but stare at him.  Now I’ll admit, I did fall for the handsome 1970’s Roger Taylor (in fact 70’s and 80’s Roger I had a crush on) but then my crush slowly faded away and turned to something else, it’s like I—kinda pictured a sorta brother-sister relationship.

“Could you take any longer getting ready Rog? I swear you take longer than me!” Freddie complained as he leaned up against the bedroom door.

“It’s called a miracle Fred. And envy is an ugly thing on you.” Roger teased to which Freddie flipped him the bird.  God they really were soulmates, I can’t imagine just how hurt Roger was finding out Fred died when he was just about to see him in a matter of minutes.

“Are we ready to go yet?” Freddie whined as Roger fluffed his hair out and shook his wild mess of hair like a lion shaking his mane and said.

“Alright you impatient bugger. Let’s go (y/n).” I was then put in between them and we left Roger’s room.

As we drove through downtown London, we soon came across a shop that closed down before my time but it was starting grounds for both Roger and Freddie, Kensington Market.

“Hope you don’t mind coming here love. We would take you to Biba but that’s all the way on East London and we’re scheduled for a rehearsal by noon.” Roger said.

“I don’t mind. I’ve—heard some good things about this place.”

“You know Rog and I once had a stall in this joint together before I officially joined the band.”

“Really? What did you guys sell?”

“Oh any old clothes that we could find. Though I’ll never forget that jacket you and Brian tried to sell. That was my favorite jacket.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have had it on the rack then, should you?” Roger mocked as he shut the engine off after finding a parking space. “Plus it’ll be cheap and not as crowded as the stores are right now. Last minute Christmas shoppers and all.”

“Agreed.” We all got out and quickly walked inside the market.  And inside I saw anything and everything.  From antiques, to bridal wear, clothes, furniture, everything small and large you could imagine. “Whoa.”

“I know it’s a little intimidating at first but no worries lovie, you’ll get used to it.” Roger said as he wrapped an arm around me.

“Alright my darlings, let’s head down memory lane. To the clothing stall!” Freddie then dragged us down the store almost towards the end of the building where a clothing stall was all set up.  Behind the counter there was a young black woman with an afro, she wore a Christmas sweater and jeans and was sucking on a lollipop.  “Well I’ll be damned. Billie. Billie Tyler?” she looked up and grinned.

“Oh shit no. Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor! Never did I think I’d see you two bastards here again.” She grinned.

“So you’re working our stall now?” Roger asked.

“Yeah. Ever since you two boys got all rich and famous, I went ahead and took over the stall.”

“Well hate to burst your bubble but we’re still not rich and famous.” Said Roger.

“What? After all the big success you guys did at the Rainbow last year?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t get paid on our tours. In fact just recently we left our first company because they screwed up our payments. Our manager didn’t even want to give any money so that Deacy could marry Veronica.”

“What?! Those stuck up bastards! I hope Deacy got the wedding he deserved though.”

“It was a small court ceremony but it was still sweet. Although had we had the money, I would’ve planned the perfect wedding for them.” Said Freddie.

“Oh please Fred, you’d invite half of London along with all crazy people you invite to the after parties.” Said Roger.

“So who’s this? Little groupie?” she asked gesturing towards me.

“No. This is (y/n).” Roger said introducing me. “(Y/n), this is Billie Tyler. When Fred and I worked here, she worked at the boutique just across from us. We’d hang out and have lunch on our breaks, she was basically our first fan.”

“Nice to meet you Billie.” I said reaching out a hand to her.  She shook my hand immediately and she said.

“Nice to meet you too (y/n). How’d you come across these two lugs?”

“Poor dear got jumped last night, thankfully Rog was around to help her out.” Said Fred as he placed a hand to my shoulder.

“Oh my god—are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a really bad scratch along my forearm but nothing too bad.”

“Well I would’ve honestly preferred to run into Bri had I been jumped but I’m glad you had Roger to help you out.” Roger looked at her crossly and she playfully stuck her tongue out at him. “So what brings you three here to Kensington market?”

“Well darling, we were hoping to get (y/n) some clothes. She—kinda came with just one set of clothes and has been sharing Roger’s style since last night. So we’re hoping you might have something that just screams her.”

“I think I might have some stuff. Come with me (y/n) and we can get you out of those boy clothes and into some stylish clothes I have.” She took my uninjured arm and pulled me into the stall and took me towards the changing room she had installed in the back room.

It was then I was given the full 1970’s fashion show.  Both Billie and Freddie practically took me and started treating me like a doll, forcing me to try on clothes, hats, coats, bell bottom jeans, the whole nine yards.

“And I’m telling you it’s flea-bitten Fred. I wouldn’t even dream of someone wearing that!” exclaimed Billie dramatically.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic darling, I think (y/n) would look cute in this.” He said holding up a ragged old fur coat that looked like it hadn’t seen the light of day in years.

“You guys do realize she’s a person. Not a doll, let her speak for herself once in a while.” Roger said.  He turned towards me and mouthed out, ‘I’m so sorry.’ I waved it off.

“Alright then, why don’t we ask (y/n) what she’d like?”

“Yes let’s. (Y/n) darling please tell Billie and that devil mind of hers that you’d want this coat over the decade’s old 60’s coat. This just screams you.”

“Ah, ah, ah! No antagonizing the fashion star here Mercury.” Billie warned him.

“Actually guys, something did catch my eye earlier.” I then hopped off the podium and went over to a large brown jacket that had fur ends on both the sleeves and along where the front part meets with the zipper.  

It had an elegant pattern on it, kinda reminded me of old Norwegian drawings that I once saw back in 1031 when the Doctor and I were helping out against the threat the invading reindeer people (I forgot their real names, plus it was in Norwegian tongue so I just called them the reindeer people).

But anyways, I looked cute and it wouldn’t make me stand out as much.  I picked out a cute sweater, a scarf that almost kinda resembled what the Doctor could’ve worn, and one of the many pairs of bellbottom jeans I was given.

“How’s this?”

“Oh my darling, it’s like looking at a Renaissance painting. You are—phenomenal.” Freddie praised.

“But something’s missing.” Billie said.  She then went over to the hats and picked out dark grey flat cap.  She handed me the hat and I placed it on top of my head. “There. Now you’re an aesthetic.”

And that was that.  I got a few sweaters, a couple of turtlenecks, bell bottomed jeans, some boots similar to what Deacy always wore throughout the 1970’s, and any brown furred or faux fur coat that Billie had.  When everything was rung up, Roger asked.

“Okay how much do we owe you Billie?”

“For you guys it’s on the house.”

“Oh no, no, no darling we’ve got some money to spend now since we left the bastard at Trident and switched to EMI. Now how much?”

“I’m feeling generous today. Plus I hadn’t done a fashion show like that in years. Most customers just demand my stuff and that’s it. So this time it’s on me. But if you want a payment, come by next week after the New Year.” Freddie and Roger looked to each other and that’s when Freddie said.

“Throw in you coming to my New Year’s Eve party and you’ve got a deal darling.”

“It’s a deal Freddie.” They leaned in and kissed each other’s cheeks sealing the deal. “Good luck with the concert guys, I’ll be watching it from home. And it was nice meeting you (y/n).”

“Nice meeting you too Billie, and thank you for the clothes.”

“No problem. Cheers guys. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Billie!” Rog and Fred proclaimed as we walked out of Kensington market.

After that, we headed down to the nearest grocery store for the simple items that I needed like toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, socks, gloves, and Roger passed by some sunglasses and he had me try them on to which I said I looked ridiculous but to him, he thought I looked cute (which I won’t deny made me blush a little).

Once all the shopping was done, we headed back to the hotel and Roger helped me unpack my stuff.  As he was helping me put some of my clothes into his closet he asked me.

“Now (y/n), about that friend of yours. What exactly does he look like?” At that point I thanked god that the Doctor at least appeared human, because if he looked like anything else how do you explain that to your hero?

“Well, he’s got short brown hair, he’s pretty tall and lean. Kinda like Brian but not exactly the same height. Oh and he wears a bowtie.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah he says they’re cool. But hopefully that helps. Oh and he basically wears a suit. All the time.”

“Okay what is he a doctor or something?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you recall where you think he might’ve ran off to?”

“That I—I don’t know. I guess I must’ve been knocked just before he ran. God I—I hope I can find him.”

“Hey, we will. I’ll turn all of London upside down if I have too to help you.” Roger said assuringly as he placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.  I looked up at him and softly smiled.

“Thank you Roger. I—literally don’t know what I would’ve done had I not ran into you.”

“Think nothing of it love. I’m glad we met last night.” He playfully ruffled my hair making me exclaim while he grinned and softly laughed.  It was then there was a knock at the door.

“Roger! Roger open the door now!” Oh no it couldn’t be. But as I saw Roger roll his eyes and make a disgusted face as he hauled himself towards the door.  I peeked over from the bedroom to see him open the door to reveal the man I feared I would come in contact with.

Paul Prenter.

“What do you want Prenter?”

“You were supposed to be at the Odeon theater 2 hours ago! Where the bloody hell have you been?!” God just hearing his Irish accent made me feel so dirty.  The bastard who became a bad influence on Freddie, and the greedy snake who would go on to sell off Freddie’s AIDS story for like 30,000 pounds was now standing right before my eyes.

“Unlike you Prenter, I know how to have fun.”

“Well your fun has costed the band two hours of rehearsal. Reid is livid right now!” It was then he somehow saw me and that’s when he barged in and said. “Is this the reason you’ve delayed the rehearsal? For some teenage hussy!?”

“Excuse me!?”

“You have no right to be in here. In fact I can have you arrested and charged with stalking.” Paul threatened.  That’s when Roger stepped in between him and I.

“You even think about that and I’ll have you thrown out the bloody window faster than you can blink!” he snarled protectively.

“You’ve been saying that for years Roger and yet you’ve never done it. You don’t got the nerve.” Bragged Paul.

“Do I?” it was then I watched as Roger dragged Paul towards the back door of the small balcony and forcefully pinned Paul’s head to the stone railings. “Wanna rethink that statement?”

“Okay! Okay! Okay just let me go!” Paul wept.

“Then get the hell out of my room and don’t even dare think about calling the police. Or else there’ll be a new decoration all along the pavement of the Marriot.” He picked Paul back up and forced him out of the room before slamming the door and locked it tight.

Holy shit! I wish that was shown in the movie. Damn Roger Taylor is a lion.

“I am so sorry about him. Paul can be a right up arsehole. I’ve been trying to convince Fred to fire him but somehow he still keeps him around.”

“It’s okay Rog. I’ve—been called worse than hussy.” It’s true.  When you’re involved with a gang, you are called way worse things, especially if you’re a girl.  I’ve been called the B word mostly, the P word and even the C word, all before I was 15.

“Who has called you that? What did they say?”

“Just some school punks back in primary school. You know how little boys are.”

“Even so, my mum taught me to never be rude to girls. Men who do such things like that aren’t even worth living. Nor should they even deserve to call themselves men.” As Roger said that, I noticed this harsh, distant look in his eyes.

Was he—I mean I remember reading a story of how he was a victim of domestic abuse.  There’ve been some theories that it was probably his dad since he was never really spoke much by Roger.  So—could that really be true?

“Rog? You—okay?” I said after he didn’t speak for what felt like 2 minutes.  He snapped out of his daze and said.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Well come on let’s head out and see if we can’t find that friend of yours.”

“Actually. Since I already got you and Fred into more trouble than I’d like, you should go to the rehearsals. I can search for him on my own.”

“Are you sure? I—wouldn’t want you to get hurt again. I have no problem coming with you.”

“Really Rog. It’ll be daylight, more witnesses so I doubt anyone’s gonna jump me. Besides I’ll bet Deacy and Brian are probably pissed at you and Fred for skipping out. Go, rehearse. I’ll meet you guys at around lunch time? Maybe even see you rehearse the concert?”

“I’d like that. And I’m sure Fred would too. If anything happens, here’s the number for the theater as well as my roadie/assistant Crystal.” He took a piece of paper from a notepad and quickly put down a couple of numbers before handing it over to me.

“Thank you.” I said as I took the notepad paper.

“Stay safe love.” And my heart literally stopped when I actually felt Roger kiss my cheek before grabbing his drumsticks and headed out the door.

Oh my god, I can’t believe I just got a kiss on the cheek from my idol.  I’ll admit internally I’m screaming my head off and melting right on the spot.  I placed my hand over the cheek he kissed and I just felt this warm, gooey feeling inside.

“Oh nana would not believe this.” I then got myself ready and headed on out of the hotel and proceeded to walk around the London streets.

As I saw Christmas decorations and lights on almost every corner, I kept muttering to myself.

“Oh Doctor where are you?” I listened carefully for any wheezing and groaning sounds, an eye for a blue police box, or a tall, lean man wearing a purple suit and bowtie.  But after about 2 hours walking along the streets I saw no one, not even the usual suspicious character that usually follows you once you break the time stream.

I sighed heavily and decided to just head over to the Hammersmith Odeon, because I swear if I stay out here any longer, I’m gonna freeze my organs off.  So I headed eastward towards the theater to meet with Roger and the rest of Queen and finally see my favorite band perform right before my eyes.