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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

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Long Nights - part 1

Neil x Reader

Chapter 1: Don’t kill my vibe

summary: all days blend into one, and as your friend brings back an unusual challenge, you are more than happy to accept it

warnings: 18+, explicit language, some violence, blood mention

author’s note: Woot woot, new series hype!

This setting has been brewing inside me for months now, and what started as an idea for a one-shot, turned out to be a fully fleshed out series (f!Reader again, for more gender neutral one check out StuckInReverse series!). And a good chance to introduce this brand new dynamic. Aaaand to play with some rogue tropes - because guess who's gonna teach Neil all he knows about locks and how to pick them? (canon what canon or at least let’s forget the implications for a moment and let's enjoy all the HAND CONTENT instead)

I’m really excited to share this story with you all!

The song for this chapter is Sigrid - Don’t Kill My Vibe

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

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Tag list: @vaneilla @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway

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You absent-mindedly swirled your coffee and ice cubes clinked against the tall glass as you watched a gutsy pigeon searching for crumbs under a table right next to yours. The green and purple feathers on its collar were shining in the morning sun, not as merciless as it was about to get in just a few hours, but still heating the crowded plaza to barely acceptable levels.

“I don’t know, man, all days blend into one, maybe it’s time to skip town again.”

Mahir leaned back on his chair, his glance sliding through the swarm of tourists pouring from the alley nearby.

“No new gigs?”

You mirrored his pose and shrugged.

“Some, but they just lack… pizzaz.”

“Pizzaz?”

“Yes,” - you sighed and gestured vaguely - “that certain oomph, that sparkle, excitement, when your heart starts beating faster at the sole thought--”

“You sure you’re not looking for...would say love but I know you too well, so... a good shag?” your companion chimed in with a sardonic smile plastered on his face.

You scoffed, amused by that insinuation.

“First of all - thank you,” you started, your eyes lighting up and your grin getting wider with every word. “Second - that thrill is better than a good shag, and after a job well done, you can ride that high much longer than even the best orgasm.”

“Forget I said anything--”

“And finally,” - you continued, ignoring his distressed groan - “you skip all the awkwardness of the morning after.”

Mahir raised his hands in defeat, and even though he looked as if he took a mental note to never tease you like that again, you were sure he knew exactly what you meant. After all, he was your favorite partner in crime, and even though he’d come clean (...or at least slightly cleaner) a few years ago, you still could count on him whenever you needed to pull off a spectacular and/or a straight-up batshit crazy stunt.

“How’s Paddsy?”

“Grand, as far as I know, but haven’t heard from him in years, why?” you asked, tilting your head.

Your friend looked at you with impish sparks in his eyes.

“I remember how you kept yourself amused during your teenage years.”

“The challenges?” You raised your brow and laughed at the memory. “Ha, petty theft is one way to fight a dullness of existence, all right.”

“I bet you’ve gotten sloppier with age.”

That taunt in his overly casual tone was clear as day. Were you really that bored, though?

“Please, I could do it right here and now without any prep.”

...yes.

He sent you a smug smile and started browsing the crowd for a possible target. “Okay, what about... that guy over there?”

You followed his gaze and your eyes laid on a pair of men, lost in a conversation, keeping to the peripheries of tourist groups as they walked through the square. One of them was gesturing with enthusiasm, a wide smile brightening his tanned face, the blond hair in complete disarray combined with a slightly unbuttoned white linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves and beige trousers completed a disheveled look. Couldn’t be older than thirty. He was accompanied by a more composed middle-aged Black man, a maroon polo shirt and grey suit pants complimented his fit and refined posture.

“The yellow mane or the polo shirt?” you asked and Mahir snorted in response.

“The polo one.”

You looked the stranger up and down as you assessed the case. Even from afar, you could see an outline of a wallet in the pocket of his trousers, and the short sleeves meant easy access to the watch.

You smacked your lips and pouted. “Too easy.”

“Okay, so both of them,” he said, watching with satisfaction as you perked up at the suggestion.

“Now we’re talking!” you laughed, clapping your hands. You pointed at Mahir’s camera sitting on the table, internally blessing his choice of hobbies. “Mind if I borrow this for a moment?”

“Sure, whatever.”

You bounced at your feet and grabbed the camera and its case, securing both straps on your shoulder. A sudden rush mixed with a familiar coldness as you got your head in the game.

“Be right back.”

Circling the crowd, you positioned yourself on the path of your targets, blending in with the crowd. Right then, nobody would tell you from other slaphappy sightseers, mesmerized by the architecture of the Old Town district. Stopping abruptly every few steps to take yet another photo. Too preoccupied to pay attention to your surroundings. Making it way too easy to bump into someone, you know? Or, if you were clumsy enough, two people one after another, in a little live-action pinball moment.

You raised the camera and stepped back right into the polo guy, yelping at the impact.

“Sorry!” you squealed, jumping out of his way. Straight into the blonde man. “Oh gee, I’m terribly sorry!”

“You all right?” he asked as he caught you, placing hands on your arms for a split-second hold, enough to prevent you from bouncing back and bumping into someone else.

You turned around and met the bright blue eyes studying you curiously.

“Yep,” you mumbled through sheepish laughter. “And you?”

He beamed, raking his unruly hair with his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flitted back to his companion, who was looking at you two with polite interest, visibly eager to continue his stroll.

“Sorry again! Have a lovely day, gents!” you chirped, sending one more apologetic smile and squeezing between them to walk away in the opposite direction.

Ten steps later you twirled around. Aiming the camera at a statue nearby, you checked on the men with the corner of your eye. The blonde guy glanced over his shoulder for a moment, but he didn’t seem suspicious. Good.

You made your way back to the cafe and fell back on your chair.

“No sweat,” you said and smirked, handing the camera back to Mahir and placing the case on the table. You turned it around so he could see what was inside - two watches, some mileage card you pulled out of the polo guy’s wallet, and something you grabbed from the other one… an Oyster card for public transport in London? What a combo. And of course, you could have picked the entire wallets instead, but what would be the fun in that? You didn’t have to make their life that much harder, after all, you just wanted to prove a point.

Mahir peeked inside and smacked his tongue.

“Okay, you still got it.”

“Damn straight!” You reached for your abandoned coffee and emptied it in one swig. “But I’d better get going.”

“Wait, what about the loot?”

“Keep it,” - you shrugged, leaning in to place a small kiss on the bearded cheek - “and tip that nice waitress well, will ya?”

“Sure,” sighed Mahir and patted your hand on his shoulder. “Be careful out there, mate.”

“Always.”

You stepped out on the sunny square again. There was nothing particularly interesting on the agenda for the day, so you decided to take a longer and more scenic route to your apartment. You put on the headphones and with your usual playlist on shuffle, you maneuvered between groups of people on your way to one of the alleys. And just as you were about to cross the road, someone blocked your path. You glanced up and it took all your self-control to maintain a neutral expression, despite all the warning sirens blaring at the full volume inside your head. How even--

“Darling! Long time no see!” said the blonde man you’d just robbed gleefully and grinned, his arms spread wide as if you’d known each other for years. Without dropping a jovial face, he leaned in and gave you a chaste hug, using the opportunity to utter straight into your ear. “Don’t make a fuss and come with me.”

Bloody fantastic.

The stranger linked your arms together and started walking down the street, pulling you with him in a little too rushed version of a friendly stroll. It wasn’t your first rodeo, though.

“Where are you taking me?” you squealed, faking badly covered distress and scouting the area in search of his partner, but the polo guy was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, we need to have a little chat,” he said nonchalantly, securing a grip on you with another hand on your arm. “And the streets today are awfully loud, don’t you think?”

He dragged you into a back alley, losing the chummy demeanor with every step further away from the crowds. Lucky for you, the new setting worked in your favor. You’d been indulging him long enough, anyway.

Shifting your balance, you stomped hard on his foot, using the element of surprise to break free. Grabbing the blonde strands, you pulled his head down to meet your flying knee. A muffled groan escaped the stranger’s mouth and his curses followed you when you dashed to a small back street to your right. These few seconds of a head start were more than enough though, especially since you knew the area like the back of your hand. And that’s why you didn’t hesitate when you reached a chain-link fence. You jumped and bounced off the wall, pulling up on the edge and vaulting through the obstacle with ease, then gracefully landed on the other side and turned around just to see the man hitting the fence with frustration. He glared at you, wiping the blood from his face, and you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“See ya!” you giggled and blew him a kiss, disappearing into another alley.

You emerged on the main street at a reasonable distance from the place you’d left the stranger, weaving between people on the busy pavement, making sure nobody followed you. After a few blocks, you grew quite certain that you’d lost the unwanted tail. You smiled to yourself. The day turned out to be way more exciting than you could have expected. And it wasn’t even noon yet.

You noticed a dark grey SUV pulling over next to you, but by the time you realized what was going on, it was already too late. The next thing you knew, you got dragged into the backseat and trapped between the blonde man and the polo guy. Shit.

You glanced at the driver, searching for clues about what you’d gotten yourself into. The woman behind a wheel gave off a paramilitary vibe, but you couldn’t be sure. Anyway, there was no point in trying to escape - you needed to wait for a more suitable moment. You didn’t have too much room to squirm around, so you just fixed your gaze on the road ahead.

“Well, this is awkward,” you said, breaking the silence as the car started moving again.

“As my colleague said - we need to talk.”

You looked to your right at the polo man. “Abduction is such an underrated conversation starter.”

“So is theft,” he noted, a shade of smile tainting the corner of his mouth. “I really liked that watch.”

“I have no idea--”

“We’ve checked the square’s surveillance system,” he interrupted you, but his statement was so ridiculous you just had to laugh it off.

“Now you’re insulting me.”

He raised a brow as he studied you with satisfaction. “You’d rather admit that you’re guilty?”

“No,” - you bridled, slowly getting tired of the whole charade - “but there’s no way you got to the feed so fast, and with how crowded it was out there, there is no way you’d find anything incriminating in there.” You hesitated for a moment, then narrowed your eyes. “Speaking of-- how did you even find me?”

A sudden movement to your left made you switch focus to the quiet blonde man. Still pressing a bunch of bloodied tissues to his face, he showed you his phone - a red dot was blinking steadily in the middle of a screen.

...tracking? You opened your mouth to ask a follow-up question, but then it hit you and your eyes flared up. That hug.

“Sneaky. I like it.” You grinned and nodded at him. “How’s your nose?”

He lowered his hand with the tissues. It was bruised and swollen, but you couldn’t tell if you’d managed to break it or not. Still - ouch.

“Never better,” he said and grimaced slightly.

“You should put some ice on it.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t say.”

Biting your lip to stifle a giggle, you glanced back to your right. “So? What do you wanna talk about?”

The other man shook his head.

“Not in the car. We’re almost there.”

You looked out of the window to find out you were driving into an industrial zone, and not the nice part of it. You didn’t mind, though - abandoned and creepy factory buildings were your jam, and they made excellent locations if you ever needed a chance to escape.

After a few minutes, you reached your destination. You got out of the car parked near the entrance to an empty hall. The sunbeams were pouring inside through the broken windows near the ceiling, lighting up a small metal table and a pair of chairs.

“Kudos for prepping such a dramatic setting, gents,” you laughed, taking a seat at the table. The polo man sighed and sat in front of you, sliding a folder with documents your way. You peeked inside, only to confirm your suspicions. They got some serious dirt on you, all right.

“Let’s start again, properly this time. This is Neil,” - he said, pointing at his companion, who was standing nearby, leaning against a pillar - “and I’m The Protagonist.”

You gaped at him and slumped your shoulders. “The Protag--...you’re shitting me,” you huffed, but the man was staring at you indifferently. “Dude, your parents must hate you,” you snorted, not even trying to keep a straight face. “What’s wrong with-- ...I don’t know, David? Or some of the classics, like John?”

“That’s how everyone here addresses me, and I’d like you to do the same.”

“Do I have to?” you groaned as you looked at Neil. He simply nodded, so you had no other option but to roll with it. For now. “Ugh, fine,” you said, shrugging. “You guys are spies or something?”

“Or something,” said The Protagonist. “We use certain espionage techniques to our advantage.”

“Sure,” - you scoffed - “next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you need my help to save the world.”

Neil’s amused snort made you glance at him again. “Well, maybe indirectly.” Playful sparks lit up his eyes as he gave you a half-smile.

Are they for real? If that was an elaborate prank, this would be a good gotcha moment, but the men seemed serious enough.

You shifted on your seat, laughing nervously.

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’ve got the wrong gal.”

The Protagonist pointed at the folder in front of you.

“We need someone with your skills.”

...right. “Such as?”

“Lockpicking.”

You arched a brow. “Why? You need me to crack something for you?”

“No.” The Protagonist shook his head and took a deep breath. “We need you to teach our agents how to do it.”

“Hard pass,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m not a tutor material.”

All of a sudden, a familiar voice rang behind you.

“Show her the lock.”

And then you connected all the dots.

“Mahir, you asshole!” you fumed, glaring at your friend as he joined you by the table. “Sloppier with age, I swear, you’re the main reason I have trust issues!”

“Main?” - he sent you a skeptical look - “What about--”

“Okay, you’re in top three, but mind you, today’s stunt alone got you five places up the table.”

“Oh no, I’m gonna cry myself to sleep tonight,” he mocked in his usual deadpan manner.

You huffed - “You better,” - mentally kicking yourself for falling for his ruse so easily. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d lost your edge. That’s what you got for staying in one place for too long. You blinked rapidly, getting out of your head to focus on an item The Protagonist placed on the table. A small metal lock, pretty basic. No security pins, but you knew this model was made with sloppy tolerances that could give any beginner a headache.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Give it a try,” said The Protagonist and waved his hand in encouragement.

You reached to the pocket of your pants for a compact set of lockpicking tools you always had on you. Nothing fancy, rather a handy emergency set than anything serious - those were safely stored in your apartment, ready for the real work. Unlike the one you were about to do. Or so you thought.

You placed a tiny wrench at the bottom of a keyway and applied a minimal amount of tension, trying to set the first pin inside using a short hook. Trying and failing. The feedback from the tools was bizarre, like the regular laws of physics no longer applied to the lock’s mechanism.

“What in the fresh hell--” you uttered through gritted teeth, pulling out the tools to examine the peculiar lock.

Mahir smirked. “Enough pizzaz?”

“Shut up, I’m still mad at you,” you waved at him dismissively and focused back on The Protagonist, who was watching your attempts with polite interest. And a hint of a satisfied smile. “Where did you get that?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he replied, leaning back on the chair. “At least for now, that is if you’d like to reconsider our proposal.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, drumming the fingers on the table. Mahir, you bastard. Of course he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist an offer like this. Even if that meant a certain commitment, and that wasn’t something you were particularly fond of.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I’m gonna teach only one person.”

“Deal.”

As you shook on it, Neil left his spot by the pillar.

“That will be me.”

You nodded in agreement and asked, “What about the lock?”

“Keep it,” said The Protagonist, standing up. As if he’d share the secrets straight away. “I want to hear your thoughts on it the next time we see each other.”

“And when is that gonna be?”

He just smiled enigmatically. “Soon. Mahir - a word?”

“Is he always like that?” you asked Neil as you got up, watching the others making their way towards the exit, but he just shrugged in return.

“He’s a busy man.”

You eyed your soon-to-be student curiously, and he responded in such, although suddenly losing some of the confidence he’d had before. Even with the bruised face, he radiated with this natural charm, a soft smile and the blonde strands falling into the bright blue eyes only adding to the overall appeal.

“Sorry about the nose.”

“Thanks,” - he smirked - “can’t blame you for that though, right?”

Grinning, you extended your hand in an informal truce offering.

“No hard feelings then?”

“Not at all,” he said as your palms clapped together and you smacked each other’s arms playfully.

With any leftover tension gone, all you had to do was to discuss the schedule and a few other crucial details. Neil took some notes and promised to get everything ready over the next few days. He even offered to drive you home, but you politely turned him down. A long walk, even slightly longer than previously anticipated, seemed more tempting.

Your fingers brushed against the weird lock in your pocket and you smiled to yourself.

For the first time in months, your heart started beating a little bit faster.

(next chapter->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #mahir tenet #neil tenet imagine #long nights

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aweecrush · 3 years ago

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As soon as she opens the glass door, the October chill immediately comes to tickle her face. She sighs in delight - feck, it's hot in that apartment. Between the room full of people dancing, the various groups scattered all around the place, the smoking and the booze, it's like a damn volcano in there.

The balcony is not actually what you could call small, but even so, she can hear the drunken advice of Orla’s roommate clearly from the other side of it. She doesn’t know the friend she’s talking to, but the sight of the both of them half shouting how great the other is while trying - and failing - not to spill all their wine is as sweet as it is funny. Ah, the outbursts of love of the shitfaced.

A smile on her face, Erin turns towards the other side of the space where, as predicted, she spots the special someone she loves, shitfaced or not.

Her heart immediately drops at the sight of him.

Leaving her glass on the first table she finds, she makes her way towards his dark figure leaning over edge as he gazes at the city. She can’t see his face yet, but his hunched shoulders are indication enough. Not that she needs any, really.

When she wraps her arms around him from behind, James straightens up to make it easier for her. She holds him as close as she can and rests her cheek against his back, breathes him in. He takes one of her hands and kisses it, then laces their fingers together and places them back on his stomach.

There’s the muffled music and the laughs coming from the inside, the shouts from the girls not far. The sounds of the city night life beneath them.

“I’ve missed you tonight,” he says after a while. They’ve barely seen each other since they arrived.

Erin holds him even tighter. “I’ve missed you too.”

But both his hands are covering hers, one of his thumbs drawing slow patterns on her skin, and he’s warm, and he smells good, so good. It’s all perfect now.

“You drunk?” She can hear the smile in his voice. She turns her head just enough to bury her nose between his shoulder blades, a giggle that betrays her current state escaping her lips.

“Yep,” and she feels his chuckle against her chest. “Clare’s much worse though. She’s currently alternating between telling our non-France going story to that French girl and burping in a very horrific and worrying way, so it’s safe to say there's a disaster looming.” James snorts. “You?”

“Not really, no. Although Nick’s waiting for me with a shot competition when I go back inside, so that should change really soon.”

Thanks to her heels, she can drop a couple of kisses on his cheek without having to raise on her tiptoes, a smirk on her lips.

“As much as I love you, and that’s quite a lot to be honest, you do know that there’s no way you’re winning said competition, right?”

He nods, faking seriousness. “Oh yeah. I mean, he’s like a magician or something.”

“Unbeatable.”

“Uh uh. He and Michelle really did find each other, didn’t they - he’s probably the only person I know who can actually drink more than her. I mean, the Halloween party...”

“Clare’s birthday.”

“That Christmas break party.”

“That was impressive.” She feels sick just remembering the amount of vodka involved.

She lets their laughs slowly die down before nuzzling him, dropping a wee kiss behind his ear, another just a bit lower.

She figures now is as good a time as any, isn’t it. “I heard you and Michelle talk in the kitchen earlier.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, she feels him tense against her. Of course he does.

She trails kisses down his neck as an apology for approaching a subject she knows he doesn’t want to. As an encouragement. She buries her face there, waits for a bit. Then, mumbles softly against his skin, “You know she didn’t mean what she said.”

“You know she did.”

Well. He’s not exactly wrong on that one - they both know it.

“She’s just angry, that’s all. You know how she gets.”

She lets one of her hands leave his, and travel on his forearm lazily. Soothingly, she hopes. “She’s just very protective of you. But she shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, well.”

He does that, when he’s upset. Shuts down, coming up with only short answers to let you know that he’d rather not continue this conversation - short, but answers all the same, because he wouldn’t go as far as shutting you out completely. That he'd consider mean, hurtful, and James doesn’t hurt people - he never would.

That’s why it sucks even more to have to watch when people hurt him.

She wants to tell him that Michelle will come back to her senses in the morning, that she’ll regret her harsh words and apologize for them, sincerely. That she’ll hit him in the shoulder for good measure, and that it will be that, over in a second. Because well - it will, really. There’s no doubt about that.

But the thing is, he already knows all that. The thing is, Michelle’s usual lack of delicacy and moderation isn’t the problem here, far from it. She wishes that it was. Much easier to deal with, wouldn’t it.

Pressing her whole body against his, Erin brushes her lips on the back of his neck, and lets the hair at his nape tickle her nose as she lingers there a little.

“I’m sorry your mum isn’t coming to the wedding, baby.”

“It’s fine.”

An answer too fast, too rehearsed to be sincere. Not that she would have believed it had he been more convincing.

She rests her chin on his shoulder, brings her hand back over his own. “No, it’s not - not at all.”

He snorts. “Of course it is, Erin. It makes sense, really: I mean, who wouldn’t choose a vacation that may or may not happen with a guy they’ve known for five minutes over the most important day of their son’s life?”

The irony in his voice does nothing to cover the bitterness underneath it. The pain.

Feck, she hates this.

After a few seconds, he huffs. “Whatever - I don’t care.”

Ever since the day he had changed his mind about going to London all those years ago, since that moment he’d decided to stay in Derry and she’d been able to breathe properly again, James had started to see things more clearly when it came to Cathy. He’d told her so - told her what Michelle had said to convince him not to go with her, told her how it felt to finally understand how right she was. That day, and after.

In the days, the weeks that had followed, it had stayed with him, turned again and again in his head. How she’d only take care of him when there was nothing more distracting to do when he was a kid. How his stepdad Paul had been the one raising him, playing with him. Caring.

The reasons - excuses - he had made to explain her leaving him in Derry without so much as a goodbye had started to fall apart one by one, leaving what she did only for what it was: an abandonment. She’d abandoned him, plain and simple.

And it had hurt, really hurt, but yet, he hadn’t blamed her - never would. Again, he was just far too good for that. She was still his mum, and he still loved her.

So he hadn’t said anything when she called to say she wouldn’t be able to take him the Christmas, then the summer after her visit. He never complained that she actually never visited him again in Derry after that. Michelle would fume everytime he called her, hating that he was always the one doing the effort (but she never said anything to him, only to them girls - none of them would ever say anything, because none of them wanted to make him sadder than he already was).

Things never changed. Not when he finished high school, not when he finished Uni. To this day, she hadn’t really congratulated him on his first nor his second job, least of all learnt what it was. And again, James never complained, because again, he loved her, and he could never really resent her. He’d lowered his expectations more and more over the years, learnt to be disappointed each time anyway. But he never said anything.

It affected him, though. She knew, she was there to see it. They all were. Ma Mary won’t even let the name of ‘that heartless woman’ be uttered in her house, even though she always makes sure never to show or say anything in front of James.

He cared - still does, always will. How couldn’t he?

Desperate for something, anything to make him feel even a tiny bit better, Erin leaves a hundredth kiss against his skin, painfully aware that that won’t be enough.

“You do care. Hey - ” She grabs his hips to turn him in so she can face him when he snorts, and he obliges. She waits until he’s looking at her to speak again. “Of course you do.”

Anyone would be affected by something like this, but him? He’s so sweet, her English, so sensible, and he wears his heart on his sleeve, and she hates how even in the darkness of the night, she can see just how much he does care. Just how heavy his heart is right now.

It was palpable, evident ever since Kathy had called this morning to tell him, but now, as he slowly let his defenses down, sadness and defeat taking over with each second, it’s written all over his beautiful face, and it just breaks her fecking heart.

“I should have expected it, right?”

He chuckles, not an ounce of humor in it. “I mean, missing birthdays - including my 25 and 30, not showing up at graduation, not visiting our flat even once, not this one, not the one before that...That was the next logical step - nothing to be surprised about.”

He shakes his head, and as he looks away, the lights of the balcony reflect on the watery green of his eyes.

His voice is so small when he speaks again, she barely hears it. “I don’t know why I thought it’d be different this time.”

Erin runs her hands up and down his back, hating herself for not being able to do more, to take the pain away from him, just like that.

“Because it should have been," is all she finds to say.

Aye, of course it should have been - just this once, for Christ's sake.

“It’s just...How little do you have to care about your own child to do that, you know. Over and over. Even now - even for this. I told her, once - I told her what you mean to me. I guess I just thought...I guess I thought that it was something every parent wanted to see for their kid, and that for once, that would include her, too.”

He finally looks back at her at that, and suddenly, she sees the fifteen year-old sitting next to her in Sister Michael’s office the day they met again, the heartbreak clear in his eyes as he understands that his mum left him.

She fecking hates all of it.

Helpless, Erin brings their foreheads together, her arms firmly wrapped around his torso as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She does care, James.”

“You don't have to lie.”

“I’m not - of course she does. And she loves you. She's just- "

“Selfish? Self centered? I’m running out of the polite words used by Michelle now, the others were much more colourful,” and Erin backs away slightly, smiling at him knowingly.

“In her own world, let’s say. I don’t think she realizes just how much damage she does. And I’m not going to try to make excuses for her, for this or for everything else - it is shitty, and she’s an adult and she should realize what she’s doing and do better. I’m just saying...She doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you, because she does.”

He looks away again at that, and it’s a punch to the stomach to realize that yeah - the thought did cross his mind. It really did.

Slipping her hands from his back, she brings them to his cheeks, gently making him look at her again, hating the sadness she finds in his eyes.

She smiles. “She does love you. And it sucks so bad that she doesn’t show it to you, because she should, and she should realize just how lucky she is to have you, for feck sake, but...But please don’t forget that you do have a family who makes you their number one priority, and who always will. I mean, I think that was a smile I saw on your Aunt Deirdre’s face when we told her - an actual smile!”, and she’s proud of herself when he chuckles at that, a true smile of his own lightening his face.

“And we all know that Michelle punching you harder than usual that day was her stupid way to cover the tears I definitely saw in her eyes - even though true, there were nothing compared to the way Paul just - well, broke down, really.”

He smirks. “Even Clare didn’t weep this much.”

“Which really, is saying something. Also, my family loves you more than they love me, Ma, Anna and Orla don’t even bother to pretend otherwise at this point, and I think at least one of us should take pleasure in that.” He’s laughing now, and yeah, this - this is how she wants him to be for the rest of their lives. Laughing, his squinting eyes shining - that’s what he deserves.

Biting down her own smile, Erin draps her arms around his neck, bringing him close. “And for what it’s worth, you also have me. You’re my person, remember? My favorite one in the whole world. I’m here - I’ll always be here.”

Always.

“Also, it will still be the best party ever, because I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve prepared a massive, massive surprise, and - ”

But then his lips are on hers, and Erin just holds him closer, fingers tangled in his brown curls, and kisses him back.

Aye - more than fifteen years she's known him, and that boy still manages to leave her light headed. It vaguely occurs to her that maybe she should be worried about that.

“Thank you,” he says when they eventually part, still so close that she feels his words on her lips. She smirks.

“For what, the surprise? Because to be honest, I haven't actually figured out what it would be just yet: I just know it will be so grand, you'll - ”

She’s not exactly surprised when James kisses her again to shut her up - she definitely doesn’t mind, either. She can feel his chuckle against her as he pecks her once, twice, then moves to her cheek, her jaw, and her heart swells in her chest.

“For everything," he smiles, looking back at her and pinching her side playfully. "For not piling up on Michelle's heartfelt opinions about my mum, tonight or ever, even though I know that you hate her too."

She frowns. "Hey, I don’t hate her.” There’s no accusation in his tone or in his eyes, but she needs him to know. “I swear, I’ve never hated her. I just hate the situation, and you being sad.” She lets her fingers run on the back of his neck, lets her eyes travel over that handsome face of his. “I mean, we have her to thank for you, haven't we? How could I hate her, silly."

He’s looking at her that way now, that way that’s far too soft, too - something, and that always makes her cheeks redden. Tonight is no exception.

She’s not exactly sure how long they stay out there, kissing like they’re teenagers at a party again. She does hears herself moan in disapproval when he eventually leans back, and he nuzzles her to make amend, amused.

“Come on, let’s go back inside - you’re going to catch a cold out here.”

To be fair, she is freezing her arse off. But -

“You sure you’re okay?”

He’s got that wee soft smile of his on his face now, and, before she can say anything else, James brings his warm hands on her neck and puts an even softer last kiss on the corner of her lips.

“Of course I’m okay - I’m marrying you.”

Truth is, she’s pretty sure she looks like an eejit, beaming and blushing like she is. Again, she can’t bring herself to mind.

Lacing their fingers together, Erin leads the way back inside. “Come on, then - let’s get shitfaced, my love.”

#erin x james #james x erin #jerin #derry girls #fanfiction

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

Text

surprises

ron weasley x fem!reader

words: 4,049

a/n: i would just like to say a massive thank you to the love shown on my past two weasley fanfics. i hope this one can bring you just as much joy and escape in these horrible times ,, stay safe ! :)

warnings: smut (18+) , daddy kink , dominant ron ;)))

It was a sunny day in London, and people had flocked to the streets to enjoy the fleeting good weather before it was gone again. I was on my break, the top buttons of my work blouse undone as I leant over the bridge to watch the river’s water pass by. A cigarette went between my fingers and lips as I checked my watch, just another five minutes then I’d be back to serving coffee to rushing businessmen.

My lungs filled up and I turned around, my back on the railing as I puffed out a small cloud of smoke before my eyes. I froze, blinking a few times before laughing quietly to myself.

I really must be missing my friends, because I could’ve sworn I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione on the other side of the road. But there wasn’t anyone there when the smoke cleared. I snuffed out the cigarette and headed back into the coffee shop, doing up my buttons and grabbing my apron.

“Do you think she saw us Ron?” Hermione asked me as I fell against a lamppost.

“How would I know, I was there too.” I huffed, looking up at the house that stood in a row of identical ones.

“Come on you two,” Harry called, having aparated a few doors down “I think it’s this one?”

“Number 52?” Hermione shouted, grabbing her bag and following me as I caught up to Harry.

“Yep, it’s this one.”

“Well we better set up then,”

We had decided to visit y/n last minute, knowing her parents’ plans to visit her grandmother on her birthday weekend. So we decided to throw her a surprise party to cheer her up.

“When are the boys getting here?” Harry asked, preparing to pick the lock.

“One step ahead of you!” Fred and George pulled open y/n’s front door, making us all jump back. “Well come on you lot, this house won’t decorate itself.”

“It would if we could use magic,” I grumbled.

“Bye guys, see you on monday.” I said to my co-workers, grabbing my bag and heading out into the warm evening air.

“Have a good birthday darling,” My boss, who was stacking the outdoor chairs, said as I walked past.

I opened cards on the walk home, mostly from regular costumers and people I worked with. A few of my muggle friends had come into the shop to give me gifts and wish me a happy birthday, even an aunt I hadn’t seen in months stopped by today. But nothing from Harry, Ron or Hermione.

In fact, I’d heard very little from them since the term ended. Not that I minded too much, they were spending the summer together and were probably busy. I had muggle friends in London too, which made the summer that little bit better.

“Oh y/n darling.” My neighbour hobbled down her doorstep, drawing me from my thoughts.

“Oh hi Mrs Hampton, is everything okay?” I asked, putting the cards in my bag and fishing around for my house keys. She bent down to pick something up from her front door.

“I made you a cake sweetie, I heard your parents are out of town and wanted to make sure you had something good to eat for your birthday.”

I took the cake from her outstretched hands and beamed with glee.

“Thank you so much, this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me.”

She winked my way and chuckled,

“Just you promise that you won’t have too many friends round, my hearing might not be great but I can still sense a crowd.” she smirked.

“I promise it’ll be civilized if anything.”

“Well enjoy it anyway darling, bye bye.” I waved her off, turning to leave as she disappeared inside.

I caught a glimpse of something flashing by the window of my house and stopped again. Maybe I was just beginning to see things. I shook my head and carefully unlocked the front door so as not to drop the cake.

“Happy birthday buttercup,” A voice sounded from nearby, I turned round in the doorway to see my best (muggle) friend Jade leant against the garden gate with a smile on her face.

We’d known each other ever since the first day of nursery when I had an obsession with buttercups, hence the nickname. She had helped me find as many as I could to take home, and we’d been close from then on.

“Jade!” I put the cake down and went to give her a hug, I’d barely had a chance to see her before she had gone on holiday. “When did you land?”

“About an hour ago, I thought I’d come and say hi. And give you this.” A small blue box was placed into my hands gently, I frowned as I opened it up. Seeing a little silver bracelet, one that matched hers exactly. “Mum helped me find another one,” she laughed, “it took long enough.”

“I love it, thank you.” I hugged her again, holding her tight against me. “What are you doing later?” I asked.

“Nothing really, why?”

“I was thinking maybe we should have an early party, you know because the parents are out of town and all.” I offered up.

“Yeah, i’ll round up the others and be back here in an hour?”

“Perfect, oh and bring as much booze as you can.”

“Anything for you y/n,” she teased and went off down the road.

I picked everything up and went into the house, kicking the front door shut and heading to the kitchen to place the cake down carefully. I read the icing message with a smile and flicked on the kettle with a sigh, I didn’t have long to get ready.

A giggle sounded behind me, making me jump and grab my wand from the side. I stuck it up in the air and called out to the air.

“Who’s there!” I wasn’t sure what I’d do if an intruder came out. Especially if it was a muggle, I'd look a bit mental flinging a stick in their face.

Another noise caught my attention, this time from the living room. As I crept towards it, I could tell it was more of a fizzing of sorts. I turned the corner, wand still outstretched, and stopped in my tracks.

Right in the middle of the room a small firework was spinning around harmlessly. I got closer, frowning until it burst and displayed the small message.

Happy Birthday y/n !!!

Before I even had a chance to process it, Harry threw off his invisibility cloak in front of me and the rest of the group appeared out of thin air. I screamed in shock, amazed that they were all here for me. Suddenly the room was no longer dark and miserable, and now covered in balloons and streamers, music already playing.

“Surprise!!” The twins grabbed me from behind, and threw me into the air.

“Put her down you lunatics!” Ron shouted over the music. “The neighbours will think she’s being murdered.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione smirked, “I already put a silencer on the house.”

“What are you all doing here?” I asked, hugging them all in turn.

“We didn’t want you all on your own,” Harry smiled, quick to pour drinks for everyone.

“Yeah, especially not on your birthday.” Ron added, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, earning a teasing look from Fred and George who were wearing matching party hats.

“Oh guys this is great, but we have a small problem.” They all frowned at me as I explained what was gonna happen.

“So Fred, George, remember to keep the magic to a minimum but it isn’t the end of the world. Harry, you're in charge of making sure any pictures are hexed so they’re deleted immediately okay, we don’t need any traces of this party for my parents to see online. My friends I could explain, but you guys are strangers in their eyes and would be harder to explain if you two are performing charms in the background” I glared at the twins.

“Hermione, you’ve already obliviated the front door yes?” I asked.

“Anyone who crossed out of it will forget this entire night.” She promised me.

“Perfect.”

“Uhhh what’s my job?” Ron asked.

“Heavy lifting,” I smirked. “Take all the breakables and lock them in the coat cupboard, I can put it all back in the morning.”

The group nodded, rushing off to sort out everything while I sped up to my room to get ready for the party. Hermione followed closely, having missed her own muggle life for some time this felt like normality for her.

“It’s odd coming back isn’t it,” She nodded, looking round my room before chilling on my bed. “How has your guy’s summer been?” I asked her, starting my makeup.

“It’s been good, I stayed at the burrow. Ron wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Do I irritate him that much?” I giggled.

“Come on he’s obsessed with you,” Hermione huffs, sick of trying to convince me yet again. “It was his idea to come here, he wouldn’t rest until we all agreed to come surprise you.”

“He’s just nice like that,”

“Have you ever seen him put as much effort into anyone else?” she smirked.

“I think you’re the only one who thinks he likes me mione,” She rolled her eyes, picking up an old magazine and waiting for me to finish.

On cue, Jade and a whole group of my muggle friends arrived each person with handfuls of booze to get through the night with. Soon the music was blasted and everyone was doing shots and dancing around my house.

The twins were impressing girls in the kitchen, this time with their new-found beer pong skills, instead of magic. But Harry was the one to watch, as he made up some wild story about his scar to a group of boys I’d known from down the street.

“Ron, I think she might be checking you out.” I giggled, leaning close so he could hear me over the music. He didn’t even bother looking at the girl I was talking about.

“Oh right,”

“Well aren’t you going to talk to her?” I nudged him.

“Oh, no I’m good thanks.” He took another gulp of his drink.

“Come on, you may as well give it a try. She won’t remember anything about tonight anyway,” I joked, he looked over at the girl giving him glances. She blushed when he noticed her.

“She’s not my type y/n,”

“God you’re so stubborn,” I laughed, finishing my drink. He didn’t say anything and just walked off, leaving me standing alone at my own party.

“Oh thanks a lot,” I scoffed and headed to the kitchen just to see Fred land another shot at the table. The boys on the opposing team were hammered and could barely see at this point.

“Having a good time y/n?” Fred asked, taking a break as they set up another round.

“Yeah this is fun, thanks you guys.”

“Oh it’s all Ron’s doing really,” George said, coming to my side as I poured another drink, not holding back on the spirits “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Oh he went off in a huff when I mentioned some girl was checking him out, I don’t know why he’s so stuck up about it. I was doing him a favour.”

Neither of the twins said a word, making me suspicious. “What?”

“Little Ronniekins does have a crush, you know.” George teased me.

“Oh not you guys too. Hermione said the same thing, he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Never underestimate how dim that boy can be y/n,” Fred huffed.

I gulped my drink down in a matter of seconds, sick of hearing them tell me something that didn’t feel true. I went to fill it up again, met with an empty bottle. In fact, there wasn’t much alcohol left at all.

“Great, looks like I’m off to the shops,” I rolled my eyes and turned around to see Hermione in the hallway. “I’m going out won’t be long.” I told her, she nodded in agreement. “Oh could you do me a favour-”

“I’ve already put a silencer on the house, no one on the street knows a thing.” She reassured me.

“God you’re good.” I laughed and took my coat off the hook. I temporarily lifted the obliviate spell on the door and passed through, seeing Ron sat on the front wall.

“So this is where the real party is,” I teased him, putting an arm around his shoulder.

He laughed lightly, unable to stay mad for too long.

“Are you going somewhere?” He pulled at my coat.

“Just to the shops, I won’t be long.”

“I can come if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah sure,” I smiled, jumping off the wall and stumbling back a bit with drunkenness.

“Careful darling,” He teased me, making me pout.

The streets were quiet on our walk back.

“This is fun,” He said in confidence.

“Do you mean us walking or the party?”

“Both, but this a bit more.” I was swaying about, the bottles in the bag rattling about. He took it from my hand with a laugh and used the other to hold me steady.

“Thank you, I can get clumsy when I’m drunk.” I rested my head on his shoulder as he slowed even more.

“It’s sweet.”

“You think so?” He nodded. “Hermione told me the surprise was your idea,”

“Uh yeah, sort of.”

“Well I think it was your best idea to date,”

Ron let go of my arm and took my hand in his, swinging it between the two of us.

“Hermione also told me something else,” I teased.

“What?” he seemed nervous.

“It’s a secret,”

“y/n,” he glared jokingly, “tell me.”

I stopped us in the street so I could get close to his ear to whisper.

“She told me that you’ve been talking about me all summer.” He was blushing slightly when I pulled away, but his hand remained in mine.

“Yeah I kinda have,” he kept his eyes on his feet as we started walking again. “But it’s only because I missed you.” “Aw I missed you too Ronniekins,” he shook his head.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Fred and George.”

“Are you jealous?” I joked.

“You’re my friend after all,”

We stopped at the front gate where Ron turned to face me as he leant against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets as he spoke.

“I think you like me,” He declared boldly.

“You’re getting brave,” I teased.

“Am I right? That’s what matters.”

“Maybe a little,”

“I like you y/n,”

I smirked, moving closer to him so that he was pressed up against the brick.

“Does this mean I can kiss you already?”

Ron grabbed my face the second I had uttered those words, and kissed me hard as if it had been boiling inside him all this time. My hands grabbed at the collar of his shirt, playing with the fabric between my fingers while he caressed me gently.

He had a reserved sense of fierceness behind his actions. One part of him held me tight and close, unwilling to release me and halt our kiss. But the other side wondered whether he should savour this moment in all its glory.

A cough sounded at the door behind us, making both Ron and I jump apart.

“I would love to say ‘about time’, but we’re one down for our beer pong team and we can’t lose the streak.” George complained, and Ron nodded moving to follow his brother inside. “So come on y/n, you’re needed.”

“And that is why I am the best chaser on the quidditch team goalie,” I teased Ron, bringing him in with me.

Once all the alcohol had been consumed, one way or another, and all the muggle guests had left (with no recollection of the night at all) I began to clear up. Hermione was already in bed in my parents’ room, and Harry had been discarded on the kitchen table where he insisted he would spend the night.

The twins were dead asleep on the sofas when I checked on them, Ron clicking in their faces to try and rise them. With no luck.

“They’re out cold,” He laughed.

“Come on then, I’m tired.”

“Oh so you’re letting me join you,” Ron grabbed my waist, pulling me away from the staircase before I could even get a foot on the first step.

“Put me down Ron,” I giggled, jumping at the feeling of his lips on my neck. He began walking up the stairs and kicked open my door.

“Only when it’s safe to do so,” he joked, throwing me onto the bed.

I landed on my back, the air in my lungs knocked out.

“Careful, throw me around too much and I might just fuck you,” I joked, but Ron’s eyes were darker now as he smirked. I moaned internally, just seeing him like this got me excited.

“And if I did fuck you y/n?”

“I would never complain about anything, ever again.” I sighed and he threw his top off, getting on top of me and kissing my neck yet again. Deeper and harder, leaving little purple marks to show off the next morning.

His hands were all over my body, even more so when our clothes were gone. He reached down between my legs and pushed my thighs away ever so carefully. He whispered beside my ear, fingers ghosting over my panties.

“Is this what you want y/n?” I nodded, words seeming too complex. “You want my fingers inside you don’t you, knuckle deep?” All that came out was a gasp as he pulled the final item of clothing away and pushed a single finger in as promised.

I could hear how wet I was, and he could feel how, even around one finger, I was the tightest he had ever felt. One by one he added fingers, making my body seize up with the burning pleasure of their movements.

Then they were gone, dragged away, my back falling onto the mattress yet again this time with a disappointed sigh.

“Don’t worry darling, I’m not done.” He grinned, taking his cock from against his chest and pumping it. He was fully hard at just the sight of my naked body before him, all his to use as he desired. I had never wondered about the size of Ron’s cock, but this was beyond what I had ever imagined anyone’s.

It was thick and long and begging to be inside my dripping pussy. He leant closer, lining himself up with one hand and holding one of my thighs down with the other. I groaned at how forceful he was, enjoying that he was so openly having his way with me.

“You ready baby?” He asked.

“Yes… daddy,” Ron’s cock pushed deep inside me, and the nickname just made him want to get even deeper. He held one of my legs up, forcing me to tighten up around him.

“Oh fuck .. fuck.” I screamed, unbothered if I would wake the others.

“Turn around,” Ron demanded, to which I scrambled to bend over for him with my ass in the air. “Good girl,” He smacked my cheek with one hard slap and entered my pussy again in one smooth thrust, immediately groaning at the feeling.

He was hard, but I loved it. His rhythmic, strong thrusts would have sent me flying if it wasn’t for his iron grip on my waist keeping me down. I had no choice but to grip the bedsheets in my hand and scream myself silly while he pounded me like an animal.

One hand reached forward, round my neck and onto my throat. Ron pulled me up, so my back was pressed up against him.

“You’re gonna ride me now darling, like a dirty slut.” I moaned at his words, completely unravelled by them. I came then and there, being held like a willing prisoner and fucked like a whore. “Good girl,” He whispered, pushing me away and laying down, his hands resting behind his head as I climbed onto his cock and letting it slip up and into me.

This feeling, with his length, made riding an incredible experience. I felt unstoppable with Ron’s encouraging words and wandering hands that would rest upon my bouncing tits as my hips went up and down.

“Oh fuck, daddy I’m so close.” I screamed, getting faster as I chased my high like a hungry bitch.

“I want to cum inside you y/n,” He told me.

“Do it,” I groaned out. “I’ll cum too, I promise.”

“Beg,”

I pleaded out, over and over, before he spilled inside me. Less than a second after I came all over his thick cock, falling down in exhaustion and laying beside him. The only noise in the room was our laboured breathing, but Ron took my hand in his and kissed it.

“You’re incredible,” he spoke softly, now worried that we might have woken the whole street if it wasn’t for the house’s silencer.

A few moments later, once we had finally come round again, I pulled the covers over us and let Ron hold me close.

“We have to leave in the morning,” He told me.

“Can’t you just stay the rest of the weekend?” “Mum and dad are going away, and they can’t leave Ginny on her own.”

“I’ll miss you,” I told him.

“Come with us, you can stay the rest of the holiday.” He offered up, not wanting to sleep without me by his side now he felt how normal it felt to have me in his arms.

“I wish I could, but I have to work.”

“Just quit, it wouldn’t matter.”

“I need that job when I come back next summer,” I laughed, but Ron had a thought on his mind.

“Don’t come back next summer, just stay with us. You’re always complaining that your parents are never here. And if you want to see your friends, you can still visit.”

“Every summer at the burrow, with you?”

“Only if you want to,”

“I really want to.” I smiled, nustling into his side.

The next morning I packed a bag and wrote two letters. One for my boss, to explain that I had to quit under important circumstances and that I was very sorry. The other for my parents, telling them not to worry. That I was grateful for them always, but that I had friends to be my family now.

“Come on y/n,” Harry shouted down the stone steps, “I want to go to diagon alley before we leave London.” I threw my case down to George, who almost fell at the weight of it.

“Y/n?” Jade shouted to me across the road. The Weasley’s, Harry and Hermione froze at the sight of her but she smiled at them politely as if she’d never met them. A silent sigh of relief was sounded by us all. “What happened last night?” She asked, putting us on edge again.

“What do you mean?” I laughed it off.

“Well I remember bringing loads of people over, but I can’t for the life of me recall anything that happened last night.”

“You must have been really drunk Jade, I saw you and it looked bad.”

“Oh god, I feel awful. I must have been a real hassle.” She noticed the twins eyeing her from the group. “They look familiar, have I met them before?”

“No, they’ve just picked me up. I’m going away for a bit but I’ll let you know when I’m back.” Her attention was quickly back on me.

“Okay, well, have a good summer and ring me when you can.” She hugged me goodbye and headed off back up the road.

“She totally had a thing for me last night,” Fred gloated.

“No she did not, she wanted me.” George argued.

“Oh shut it you two!” Hermione huffed, sporting yet another hangover. “Are we all ready?”

I took Ron’s hand in mine and smiled at the ginger boy beside me, “Ready.”

#ron weasly imagine #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley #weasley #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #smut #harry potter smut #ron weasley smut #weasley smut #hermione #fred weasley #george weasley

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

Couch People

Henry Cavill x OC (you) drabble

Word count: 2.907

Warnings: Alcohol consumption and pure and utter fluff.

Author’s note: I had a DREAM (last night). And I decided to write about it in Henry’s POV, since that’s a cute lil’ twist on the usual meet-cute situation.

My couch is my new favourite object. It wasn’t up to last night. Yesterday it probably was like..my kitchen aid, or my glute drive. But today? It’s definitely my couch. Not only because I’m still slightly hungover and the thing is darn comfortable. No. It’s something else.

Sighing, I sink further down into the soft pillows, that darn tartan red throw still lingering in the corner, smelling of you. Fuck. I’m having it bad, huh?

—

Should I lose the tie? Was it too formal? Hesitantly tugging at the silk I watch the last of the audience leave the London Studios, the infamous red couch now moved to the side so a cleaning crew can ready the stage for the next show. I’m glad it’s over and fans leave me be for a hot second, my mind quite elsewhere as of this moment.

Before me stand the people I recognise to be your friends. Men, all of them. Their voices low but merry as they bounce off the walls of the almost completely emptied out space.

‘Hi Henry.’ Your voice tinkles above the low hum of voices and quite instantly I feel my nerves back in my throat. Shit..Now what? What the hell was I even planning on…Damnit …

‘Hi.’ Is all I can manage back, the six men around you now also turning to offer me a warm welcome. And from the looks on their faces, they know full well why I am here. You, however, seems to be a bit clueless, your fingers reaching into one of your friends’ backpacks to fetch some lip balm.

‘Good show, hmm?’ You mumble, brushing the balm over your supple lips. Kissable lips.

‘Sure was.’ I agree. Come on Henry. You’ll have to do better than that! You don’t seem to care though, your attention drifting back to one of your friends, who raises an expecting eyebrow at you.

‘Oh, eh..Henry, you want to join us? We want to go out for some drinks..and some food maybe?’

‘FOOODD.’ One of the guys grabs his beer belly and makes a gesture like he’s been starved for weeks - which is obviously not true. I chuckle. They seem like good guys. And so very normal, which only makes me like you more.

‘I’d love to.’

‘Oh! And I still have to pee.’ One of the more lanky built men intervenes, to which the whole group blurts; ‘Pee-break!’

—

One pee-break and a short cab drive later, I have brought you to one of my favourite pubs. Not only because it’s close to my home. Also, because I know the owner and with a blink of my blue eyes I can get us to use the room upstairs, which is usually reserved for exclusive events. Well. Tonight is an exclusive event, okay? The pub is old, mahogany and smelling of good times, the upstairs level reached through a very, VERY steep and very narrow step of stairs. With hands and feet we climb up, finding a low ceiling room, in equally dark and wooden hues. A lone rough table is set up, inviting us to take a seat before an old paned window that lets you look out over the drunken banter below.

In moments there is fish and chips by the bucket load and a few pitchers of beer, which your friends drink from greedily. And, of course, a glass of wine for you. You don’t like the bitter taste of beer. I make a mental note of that.

There’s nothing stuck up about you. You smile so easily, joke so merrily - and did I spot some nerdy references that escaped your lips? With every glass of wine there are more and it makes my whole body thrum with excitement. Though perhaps that’s also just the beer talking.

Much too soon your friends have to leave to take their late flight back home. The fact that they had flown out here just to celebrate your success after years of hard work, just shows how good a bunch they are. And you are to them. With any other women with male friends, I’d easily pick on ulterior motives. But not with these guys. You go way back. You’re good. Golden. One of the guys. Though, dear god in heaven, am I happy you’re a woman.

Long bear hugs are exchanged between you and your friends as I stand there on the sidewalk, trying to evade the looks and attention of the drunken merry. The night is cold and winter is soon to come, the lot of us huddling in our winter coats as cars pass by, driving through deep puddles. With a last wave we send your friends off into a cab, back to their homes.

And then it’s just us.

‘So..’ You suck your lips in, eyes darting out to send a warning glance at some drunk brits that take a snapshot of us - it happens so often I barely even care about it still. I try to look as gentlemanly as ever, but the pints dance happily in my eyes. I know it from the way your gaze softens when you look back at me. ‘It was a good night.’ You say.

And I half disagree; ‘It IS a good night.’ As soon as I say it, I’m not sure if the drink is making me overly courageous, my arm hesitating to reach out and offer you something to hold onto. You chuckle.

‘You’re right. Especially since it’s not raining. GOOD HEAVENS.’ And with that you slip your hand around the crook of my arm without question. Like it’s the most natural thing to do, your cold fingers feeling like icicles through the wool of my coat. If only I could warm you up properly.

‘And you’re taking a long holiday? Any plans?’ I try to keep easy conversation flowing, referring to something you had mentioned during Graham’s show. I knew you were taking some time off after this movie was all wrapped up. I had been there, working on the same set, so I know how crazy it had been.

‘Yea...it’s been a crazy two years. Which is a long time not to have any holidays.’ You widen your eyes in exasperation as your feet elegantly move around a large puddle.

‘Tell me all about it.’ I sigh. Unfortunately for me, I’m soon to start on yet another production. Which means no holidays for me.

‘But ehm..I actually made zero plans. My whole life was planned out near minute to minute for the past years. I just need to ..get back to basics, you know? Sleep a full 8 hours. Walk. Cook. Take long baths. Maybe..go hiking in the highlands. Or..go to the Bahamas..I’ve never been to the Bahamas! Or…’

‘A right here.’ I interrupt you, sending us into the direction of a small alleyway.

‘Oohh..must I trust you now or is this where I find out you’re a serial killer, Mr. Cavill?’ You tease.

‘Mm..I’m too busy a man to spend my time planning out how to murder people.’

‘Very well Hannibal.’

‘Hahaha..good series.’ - There’s those nerdy references bubbling up again.

’Tis.’ You agree, sighing deeply as the darkness swallows us, leaving the crowded street behind until there’s nothing else but us and the tap of our feet on the cold wet cobble stone. You lean slightly closer to me and I’m glad you do.

‘So..’ You look up at me. ‘Are we mere wanderers or are we heading to mount doom to get rid of some pesky ring?’

I snort laugh. Yep. I definitely snorted. And you laugh merrily in turn. God, you’re cute.

‘I don’t know Sam, I don’t know.’

You grumble softly in playful dissatisfaction. ‘What if I want to be Frodo?’

‘If you so wish to be, fellow over-sized hobbit. Though I think, since you sound like such a well planned, yet easy going lady, you’re a Sam. BESIDES, you say you love to cook and work in the garden..that definitely makes you a Sam.’

‘True, true.’ You hum, the light at the other side of the alley coming closer, your feet suddenly starting to drag. Almost as if you don’t want to get back into the light, where drunk hustle and bustle is about. I stop and you look up at me, head tilting slightly upwards.

‘Say, Frodo. What does a woman do in this town when she doesn’t want to call it a night, yet?’

I pretend to think about it, though my mind knows full well where we could be going now. ‘Depends on what you want to do, Sam.’

‘As much as I’d like an adventure..so cold are my feet. Something indoors, perhaps?’

Exactly what I was planning.

‘I know just the place. Though…it’s..very private, okay?’

‘Are we going to find prancing ponies and kitten heeled Striders there?’ - With that you print this vision in my head of Aragorn in high heels, lurking on a pipe, and it makes me chuckle aloud. You are slightly cheeky too.

‘Mmm..more like large hounds and vast amounts of books, all crammed into a cute little..’

‘It’s your place isn’t it?’

I chuckle. ‘Yea..I live 5 minutes from here.’

‘Okay. But just in case you are considering a career change; please don’t eat me.’

I smile, nudging us to move ahead, our eyes squinting at the bright street light as we return to the land of the living drunk and the hum of stationary engines. As most pubs are closing for the night, everyone tries to grab a cab.

‘Well, looks like I wouldn’t have come home at this hour anyways haha.’ You mumble, our feet jumping over another puddle as we move to yet another alleyway.

We don’t have to take this route. But I like the lack of people. And having you squeezed up against my arm. So maybe it’s not a five minute walk entirely. You thankfully don’t seem to care.

‘You live in London?’

’Not really. Though for work I’m here half of the week. I stay at this cute hostel with THE MOST COMFORTABLE BEDS I have ever slept in. Like. Ugh. It’s fantastic.’

‘And your real home?’

‘Not such a good bed.’

We shouldn’t be talking about beds at this hour, but I suddenly can’t think of anything else to talk about.

‘Well, the best bed I’ve ever slept in is right at home.’

‘Mmm..are you suggesting anything there, Hannibal?’ Where you were clueless about my flirtations whilst we were sitting on Graham’s couch, the message seems to come across quite perfectly now, your eyes glittering with promise.

I act shocked, but we both know better. ‘Never!’ I say, to which we belt out in loud laughter, the sound echoing off the tall buildings at either side of us.

‘Gods, you are cheeky after a few pints hahah.’ You laugh.

‘And you are walking home with a complete stranger.’

‘Naa..I checked your Wikipedia page. So. Not complete stranger. I think it’s actually YOU who’s walking home with a stranger.’

‘Quite so.’

You’re right. We’ve worked together for 3 months on the same set, but I’ve only seen you from afar. In fact, you were kind of my boss. Which would’ve made any advances from my side even weirder. Tonight felt like the first real opportunity, now the project was finished. And here we were. In front of my house.

After a few awkward fumbles I manage to unlock the door, the two of us being welcomed by a sleepy Kal, his wet nose diving head-first into my face.

‘Down boy.’ I grumble, but thankfully you’re not afraid of my large hound, your fingers already racing through his thick fur before I have managed to close the door behind us.

‘Hi baby!! You are SO CUTE! JUST LOOK AT YOU!! And so tired too! You been sleeping, big boy?’

Kal loves you already. And I..?

‘A wine would be good.’ You look up at me as I just stand there staring at you. Shaking myself from my thoughts and awkward nerves, I put our coats away and try to find some decent bottle of red wine. I forgot to ask what kind you like, so I’ll just have to pick whatever. ‘Make yourself comfortable!’ I say aloud, but as I return with a bottle and two glasses I already see you’ve done just that, legs pulled up and that stupid tartan throw wrapped around your legs, Kal getting yet another head scratch from you.

Oh, he loves you a lot.

‘I hope cabernet is alright?’

You laugh and wave it away; ‘Henry. I had 5 glasses of wine. By this point you’d ALMOST get me drinking beer. Almost haha.’

In what seems like a blink of the eye this bottle is finished as well and the world is near spinning when I get up to make us a snack. Which of course is the worst idea ever at like 2..3..4 am? I can’t see quite straight enough anymore and the giddiness in my bones is showing in the most idiotic grins I’ve probably ever had on my cheeks. My face is going to hurt tomorrow. From laughing, that is.

As I haphazardly decide I should first ask what you want to eat, I suddenly find the long despised throw of my ex earning a much welcomed new, far sweeter memory. In the deep soft pillows of the couch, there you lie. Knocked out asleep, fingers still trailing through Kal’s fur, his head not daring to move as I look the pupper in the eye.

‘Well..’

I can’t send you home like this. And so, with a dangerous wobble in my inebriated knees, I tuck you in, the smooth wool warm as it moves beneath my fingertips.

For just a moment I wonder if I should put you in my bed, so I’ll sleep on the couch. But you’re laying so comfortably, that I’m afraid I’ll wake you..and then you’ll probably leave. I don’t want you to leave. Yes. I should have you stay. I..eh…

Blinking I look around the room, deciding how I should keep you to at least stay for breakfast. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you, you know? And so I grab for some paper and a pen, my handwriting not what it should be.

“Good morning, Sunshine. In case the drinks were too many; the dog’s name is Kal. Don’t worry about him. And I’m upstairs. Feel free to grab anything you like. Also. In exchange for a couch..how about we have breakfast, together? Henry.”

—

Waking up was like thinking everything was a dream. A very drunken dream. My head was screaming for water and sleep, but I couldn’t stop myself from racing downstairs first, only to find you were still asleep. Just where I left you. It was only after I started cracking up my cooking skills (cheesy eggs with toast), that you woke up. Large yawns were heard from the couch-area, before you groggily walked into the kitchen, hair in disarray and just perfect in my humble opinion.

‘Mmmoo- *yawn* -orning.’ You bring out, hands rubbing over your eyes.

‘Hi.’

You are so cute.

And then you step in closer, eyeing my cooking, your scent and body so close, I wish we were at the point that I could grab you into a hug, delve my nose into your hair.

‘Sleep well?’ I ask with a crooked smile, your face nodding but your body saying: I need more sleep, for the love of the gods.

After breakfast you quirk up, that cute smirk back on your lips as you lick them in satisfaction.

‘That’s some fine cooking there Frodo.’

‘Thanks Sam.’

‘And a couch that makes a close second to the hostel’s bed.’

‘HAhaha..oh..yes. I was not sure what to do. Wake you up? Put you in my bed? I mean..a lot of..options.’ I trail off as your smile grows.

‘..I’m so sorry for putting you in that position, Henry. And also, apologies for falling asleep as you were just about to make a snack. Its typical me; midnight snack-time? I fall asleep.’

‘Well, it’s your holidays. You can sleep all you want’

‘So it is.’ You fold your fingers around your hot cup of tea - no sugar, no milk. I make a mental note of that too.

With curious eyes you watch me sit across you, the kitchen table suddenly feeling too large, too wide. I want to be closer to you. Snuggle up to you. You look so snuggable.

‘Any plans for today?’ You inquire lightly.

And that’s when it clicks. I could keep you around a little longer, maybe? De-hangover together, maybe?

‘Want to stay for a bit?’ I ask, hope sparking in the swallow of my nervous throat.

‘Sure.’

I think that’s what I like the most about you. It’s easy. Natural. No hassle. No hunt. Though I would have hunted you, if that is what it would have taken.

—

Now I’m sitting here on the couch and you’ve just gone back to your hostel. I mean, I get it. We’ve been together for nearly 24 hours. When we’re not even..like..more than strangers. For a moment I wondered if I should kiss you, after we walked Kal, our hands interlinked - which also felt so very normal.

The more glad I was when you did it for me.

You kissed me.

Those sweet chapped lips on mine.

I sink further into the couch and sigh. I like you a lot my sweet Sam.

(Link to my Masterlist)

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #couch people #graham norton show #henry pov #henry cavill x you #lord of the rings #hint of nerdy stuff #sam x frodo

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offtopicoverload · 4 years ago

Text

Ten Years Later

I did it again.

Here's a oneshot based on @bubblybabynailpolish's list of hcs of where the Season 2 Islanders are by the ten year reunion because I love it. This is pretty cheesy, but it’s what I’m here for

Marisol x MC (Dahlia)

~6k words I got carried away

Marisol left the Villa in near tears, everything she worked for and everyone she’d grown to care about gone in a single terrible instant, and it hadn’t even been her fault that time. She hadn’t been unwilling to commit or said something stupid, she hadn’t gotten distant or broken it off because she got nervous. She had been on her best behaviour, been the best partner she could be just to prevent something awful from happening.

But it still did. It still happened and it still ripped her heart from her chest and stomped on it mercilessly, crushing the mass of muscle and tissue into a pulp on the Villa’s lawn. She tried not to break down, to lose herself when cameras were trained on her, but the second she was free, she snapped and sobbed and drenched her sleeves in tears and snot while Bobby tried to calm her down.

They were sitting in her hotel room, drinking all the alcohol in the minibar and mourning their failures in the Villa. Mourning Bobby’s inability to find a relationship that wasn’t platonic and mourning Marisol’s failed, shattered, disastrous relationship. A relationship she actually thought would work out, thought had a bright future, thought was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. But she also thought it would all turn out to be a crazy, unbelievable dream that’d disappear as she woke up alone in her flat like any other day.

Only it wasn’t just a happy-go-lucky dream, it was a nightmare, a horror movie that took forever to get to the action, a slowly building fire that hit something important and sparked it to life, blowing up an entire complex in one go. It was her worst nightmare come to life, and just as horrifying as she always imagined.

Dahlia had cheated on her.

Dahlia had cheated on her with Elisa. She kissed her on the roof terrace and almost broke down when she told Marisol that night. Her voice cracked and her eyes sparkled with tears as Marisol stared blankly, not a single coherent thought in her head as everything fell apart in her hands, everything that was so close to being perfect.

Then the anger came, the frustration. It wasn’t even Marisol’s fault this time, there was nothing she did wrong, so how could it just collapse like this? That wasn’t fair, she’d done everything right, she didn’t do anything major so horribly wrong that Dahlia needed to escape. Which left the only answer: she just was wrong. She was wrong for Dahlia, she was wrong for Graham, she was wrong for Rocco. Even if the latter two took her some time to figure out why she’d run from them so quickly, she soon understood that she was wrong for all of them. She was wrong, in general.

She wasn’t Elisa, with her followers and confidence. She didn’t like stupid jokes, she didn’t like boats, she didn’t like travelling, she didn’t like cranes, she didn’t like golf, she didn’t like anything they did. And she didn’t pretend she did, she didn’t care to humour them, she didn’t want to waste her time on pointless conversations and discussions.

And so, they drank. And drank and drank until Bobby was delirious and Marisol’s heart was too numb to hurt for a little while, and then they drank some more. Marisol thought her skull was going to split in half the next day, but she didn’t care. She had to get through the plane home before she could waste more time caring.

---

Ten years later, and Marisol gets an invite she really wants to decline. Not necessarily because she doesn’t want to go - although, she doesn’t - but because she’s got work to do and Saturdays are date night and she doesn’t like travelling and she’s supposed to take her nephew to see a movie he’s been excited about for months that Sunday and - okay, she just doesn’t want to go.

It’s not like she even kept in touch with everybody. At most, she’ll chat with Bobby when he reaches out, or catch up with Priya if she’s in Manchester, maybe FaceTime with Chelsea when the blonde’s on one of her kicks to chat with someone random.

She was too caught up in school and work to bother with most of them after the finale, and the rest she wasn’t exactly on good terms with. She’d gotten in fights with most of the girls, dumped Graham, moved on from Rocco maybe too quickly, never even clicked with Gary or Ibrahim, and Dahlia… Dahlia had cheated on her.

So not the best terms, no. And Marisol isn’t very eager to reopen old wounds just to see people that are all happier and better off than her. Hope’s absolutely loaded, Lottie’s an actual celebrity, Gary somehow has a bunch of kids, and Dahlia? Dahlia’s actually not done much, stayed at the foundation and hasn’t managed to hold onto a relationship, but she never wanted to do much in the first place, so maybe that does count as wildly successful.

Marisol drops her phone to the counter, the email still open on the screen and frowns at the device, her foot tapping against the kitchen tile. She huffs, turns away from the counter, and yanks open the fridge, scavenging for something to eat; it’s why she came in the kitchen in the first place.

“Everything all right?” James’ voice calls into the kitchen, his head peeking around the corner with furrowed eyebrows.

Marisol turns, meeting his bright blue eyes, “Yep,” she forces a smile. “Everything’s fine.”

He forces a smile back, she can tell he either doesn’t believe her or isn’t that interested, “Alright, then,” and turns, disappearing further into the flat.

Marisol sighs, her eyes falling shut as she pulls in a steadying breath. She grabs yoghurt out of the fridge, turns and drops it on the counter and pulls out a spoon from the silverware drawer. She slides into a kitchen stool, pulling her phone closer and staring at the invitation again.

She really doesn’t want to go.

---

She went. She’s here. At the reunion. With the other ex-Islanders. And their families. In London.

She’s here in the closest replica she could find to the outfit she wore at her second to last recoupling, the one where she picked - actually, that doesn’t matter. It’s just one of her favourites, a sharp suit with nothing underneath the blazer.

She steps inside all on her lonesome, feeling out of place as the other early guests chat and drink and mingle. She fidgets with her outfit, fixes her hair neurotically, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She starts reaching for her phone to give her something to do just as she’s accosted, arms slipping around her neck from the side.

Chelsea chatters excitedly in her ear, hugging her tightly before pulling her further into the venue before Marisol can even get a word in, her grip on Marisol’s arm like a bear trap, biting and tearing her skin apart as her nerves simultaneously destroy her organs. Chelsea drags her over to Lottie, Hannah, and Priya mingling together near the bar before striding over to it, Hannah’s arm looped through Lottie’s as she beams goofily at something the goth said.

“Hey, babes!” Priya chirps, wrapping her arms around Marisol and squeezing tight, air-kissing her cheeks as she pulls away with a wide grin. “Ohmigod, I missed you! It’s been too long since you came up to Manchester!”

“Yeah, definitely,” Marisol smiles back, whiplash shaking her as she finally finds her voice, her hands gripping Priya’s forearms as she meets her eyes.

“So… you’ve been up to some stuff, huh?” Lottie’s voice draws their eyes, a warm smile on her lips as she glances to the ring on Marisol’s finger.

She raises her hand with a blush, an extravagant engagement ring sitting below her knuckle, “Oh, uh, yeah.”

Chelsea returns and passes Marisol a drink, still bouncing on her toes as she glances around the group excitedly. “Is he your prince charming?” Hannah chimes, smiling wide as Lottie chuckles beside her.

Marisol laughs, “I guess so. Don’t really believe in that, though,” she shrugs.

“Tell us about him, babes, you’ve barely told me anything,” Priya encourages, nudging Marisol’s shoulder with her own.

She laughs again, “Alright, okay. His name is James and he’s in law, too. He’s really nice and all that, and I kind of hated him at first but, y’know, here we are,” she forces an amused smile. She really did hate him back then.

“Is he coming tonight?” Hannah leans forward, eager to learn. That first day in the Villa may have been ten years ago, with countless triumphs and failures scattered throughout the decade, but Hannah’s somehow gotten right back to her wide-eyed, excitable self. It’s kind of nice, Marisol decides, that she was able to find herself again.

She smiles gently at the excited redhead, “He didn’t come. He’s still in Portsmouth.”

“Aw, boo,” Lottie jeers. “Should’ve dragged him along,” she sips her drink.

Marisol’s dark hair shifts, glinting in the light with a halo reflecting off her as she shakes her head, “He had some work to do this weekend and he hates putting it off.”

Lottie’s features shift in sympathy, “Don’t tell me you just found a male you, Marisol.”

She laughs again, already feeling like she’s laughed more since she got here than in months, maybe years. She just works too much, but she loves it, she rationalises. “Okay, we’re a little similar, but it’s not that bad.”

Lottie doesn’t appear convinced, but she doesn’t get the chance to comment further, “What did I miss?” Shannon steps up to the group with a smile, a drink already in her hand.

“Marisol was just telling us about her fiancé,” Lottie winks to the woman in question, urging her to spill.

“Not that much to say, honestly, we’re pretty basic,” she shrugs her shoulders and sips her drink.

“I’m sure Marisol’s life is plenty eventful,” Hannah grins at her, Lottie pulling her arm from Hannah’s to wrap it around her waist. Hannah beams at her, leaning into her side happily, now 31 but as bright-eyed and content as 21 year old Hannah. Marisol really likes seeing her like that; Lottie’s good for her.

Shannon clears her throat, “Well, if anyone ever wants a vacation, I’m still playing and can hook you guys up with a break,” she looks around the group, earnestly meeting everyone’s eyes.

“I might have to take you up on that offer,” Priya sighs, Marisol placing a hand on her arm in concern. She smiles, “Kids are just… so exhausting,” her eyes are wide as she shakes her head in faux exasperation.

Chelsea bounces on her toes excitedly, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, how is the little guy?!” She looks like she might explode from cuteness that isn’t even in front of her.

Priya pats her shoulder to try and calm her, “Ri’s doing well. Not much going on outside of daycare. Benny’s been home with him since last night so I could come, and I really hope they haven’t burnt the house down.”

Laughter ripples through the group, but Chelsea seems oblivious to it, “Do you have pictures?!” she claps her hands eagerly.

Priya laughs and pulls out her phone, “Of course!” She pulls up her camera roll, Chelsea leaning over her shoulder to watch her flick through pictures, squealing every few seconds.

“So the engagement’s new, right?” Shannon addresses Marisol as she takes a drink.

Marisol hurries to swallow, “Oh, yeah! Uh, two? No, three months ago he asked,” she nods.

“What’s the ring look like?” Shannon prompts. Marisol obliges, lifting her hand to show her the massive diamond that she thinks cost too much. Shannon nods approvingly, “Nice. Expensive. He must make bank,” she smirks, popping her eyebrows.

Marisol laughs once again, a sound that feels oddly unfamiliar nowadays, “Lawyer, remember?”

Shannon whoops, “Smart woman.” Marisol chuckles, sipping her drink as a shout rips her eardrums.

“Hope!” Priya shouts, tearing the group from their smaller clusters as she embraces the woman, a well dressed man beside her as she laughs in Priya’s ear, the others looking on curiously.

Hannah stiffens next to Lottie, glancing between the two nervously, “Um, don’t you guys, uh, hate each other?” she asks cautiously.

Priya laughs, Hope chuckling lightly with her, “Not anymore!” Priya grins when her breath is caught, “We’re both bad bitches, and bad bitches gotta stick together!” she throws her arm over Hope’s shoulders to emphasise their newfound camaraderie.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t pull away, “She’s just a gold digger.”

“Does this mean you’re finally on board with being my sugar mama? I swear it’s worth your while,” Priya winks, bumping her hip into Hope’s. “I won’t even say anything about Isaiah,” she winks at Hope’s husband, too, who appears to be properly confused.

Hope shakes her head at Priya with an amused smile on her lips, exhaling through her nose. She glances over to her husband, slipping her hand into his larger one until he relaxes at her side.

“Hey, if Hope won’t treat you right, I’ll happily volunteer,” Shannon joins, smiling at the antics.

Priya removes her arm from Hope’s shoulder quickly, skipping across the gathered circle to loop her arm in Shannon’s, “I’ll take it!” Shannon laughs, throwing her head back as the women dissolve into tipsy giggles, Isaiah stilled at Hope’s side.

Another shout disrupts the group, “Dahlia!” Chelsea shrieks like a banshee, already sprinting for the woman in question, tackling her in the tightest hug she can. Dahlia hugs her back eagerly, lifting Chelsea off the ground with a laugh and swings the blonde around lightly, Chelsea giggling into her shoulder as she does. She sets her down, Chelsea immediately dragging her over to the gathered crowd by the bar, ignoring the trepidation sparking in Dahlia as she gently resists.

Marisol watches the entire interaction, dread settling in her stomach, swirling and mashing her insides as panic explodes in Dahlia’s eyes as she draws nearer and nearer. Chelsea tugs her to a stop beside Priya, the older woman immediately wrapping her in another hug.

She moves through the group, sharing greetings with Hannah, Lottie, Shannon, Hope, even Isaiah, before skipping over Marisol with a nervous glance. She lands beside Chelsea again and accepts a drink from her, sipping it as the group restarts. Marisol can tell that the conversation’s continued, but she doesn’t hear any of the words, all she can hear is her heartbeat pounding against her eardrums like fists on the bars of a jail cell. She can see their lips moving whenever she glances at them, can see them laughing and smiling, even Isaiah chuckling along to a few jokes.

But Marisol doesn’t know what they’re laughing and smiling at, doesn’t understand what could be funny right now, with Dahlia right there. Dahlia right there smiling along, draining her drink, answering questions that Lottie the Interrogator proposes. Dahlia right there, the lights playing off her hair and her green eyes crinkling as Chelsea says something to her. Dahlia right there, with the group’s recent addition of Lucas’s arm slung around her shoulders affectionately.

Ugh, Marisol feels gross, like black sludge is filling her veins and lungs, weighing her down as she turns in a daze, walking across the venue to the washroom. They’re at the start of a long hallway, but Marisol doesn’t step into the women’s room. She keeps walking down the hallway until there’s a bend, and she follows it, turning the corner and hitting an exit door, red letters indicating as such.

She throws it open and retreats into the cool night, walking a few steps away and slumps against the brick wall as her head falls back to meet it. Dahlia had cheated and broken her heart, yet Marisol can tell that she still holds a few of the shards. Which is exactly why Marisol shouldn’t have come. This was stupid, this was a mistake. She could have stayed home and just made dinner with James and watched a movie, why did she have to come? Why couldn’t she do something simple and basic, like she has for a decade now? Why did she have to submit herself to this?

She huffs, drags a hand through her hazelnut locks, and stands straight, intent on removing the sludge from her system. She turns to the door and tugs on the handle, but it doesn’t budge, and she feels frustrated tears building behind her eyes as she collapses against the wall again, sinking to the ground this time. She stares into the dark night, a few street lights lighting up the alley she’s found herself in. She’s angry and frustrated with every decision she’s ever made, every step she’s ever taken, every bit of progress she’s ever accomplished.

She spins her ridiculously sized engagement ring on her finger, fidgeting and slipping it on and off as she maps out an escape from this house of horrors. She should just call a cab and go back to her hotel, pack her bag and find a train to Portsmouth; she can sleep at the station if she needs to.

‘You doing okay out here?’ shatters her bubble, freezes her in place, short circuits her nervous system as that familiar voice she somehow hasn’t forgotten in a decade rings in her ears, an alarm telling her to run as far and as fast as she can.

“Y - Yeah,” she stammers. “I’m okay,” she dips her head, circles her outrageous ring on her finger, and stares at the pavement beneath her as footsteps draw near.

Dahlia stops beside her along the wall, eyes focused on the part of the street they can see from their position as she faces forward, “You sure? You kinda, um, bolted. But er - you know what?” she steps away from Marisol, backing away carefully, “I’m gonna leave you alone.”

Marisol finally glances at her, finding Dahlia retreating back to the reunion that she’s now locked out of, “Why?” she utters without realising, somehow hurt by the instantaneous change in Dahlia.

She seems taken aback by the question, “Um, It’s really not my place…” she backs away further, fingers tapping her hand held in front of her chest.

“Why not?” Marisol pursues, intent on hearing her say it, hearing her say it’s her fault, not Marisol’s. Maybe if she says what she did again, Marisol can finally forget it, let Dahlia keep those shards and move on. Yeah, that’ll fix things, won’t it?

Dahlia halts in her tracks, “I -” she glances to the ground beneath her heels, “Well, I cheated and we broke up and it’s not my place to be in my ex’s business, so…” she states matter-of-factly, that bluntness that got her in so much trouble in the Villa shining through.

Marisol doesn’t feel better hearing her say it, she doesn’t feel like she got closure, she doesn’t feel content and pleased, it just feels like those shards are bigger than she thought, more than a few scraps, closer to a heavy chunk than tiny crumbs, a gaping whole in her chest. All right, new plan. “We don’t have to be exes, right? Can’t we be friends or something?” Marisol proposes. Nothing else has worked, time to take a risk, she internally reasons.

Hopeful green eyes land on Marisol’s, “Can we? Do you want to be? Can we?” she takes a step forward, eyes boring into Marisol’s as they unconsciously plead for the affirmative.

“Yeah,” Marisol shrugs and shifts her weight, “Why not? We’ve both grown and it’s been a long time. Might as well bury the hatchet.”

Dahlia nods ferociously, “Yeah. Yeah,” she forces her excitement down, “Might as well.” She sinks to the pavement beside Marisol, knees bent as she sits on her heels, hands still clasped together.

“So… what have you been up to?” Marisol asks awkwardly, spinning her ring incessantly.

Dahlia laughs, the tension in her shoulders disappearing as Marisol’s heart lightens at the melody, “Not much, honestly. I think I’m kind of on a date with Lucas, but he met up with Henrik earlier and I had to come alone,” she frowns, her lips twisting.

Marisol’s head falls back to the brick behind her, “Sounds like they’re on a date instead.”

“...Yeah.”

Marisol glances over to her, finding her features fraught and elects to correct that, “What about your job? Are you still at the foundation?”

She beams, “Yep! You’re looking at the Director of Finance!” she announces proudly, and Marisol can’t help but smile.

“I thought you hated maths.”

“I do. But I don’t hate being the boss,” she winks with a grin.

Marisol laughs, “Fair enough. So you’re still in Sheffield, then?”

Dahlia nods again, “Yeah. Hard to leave, y’know? And I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Would you? If you had somewhere to go, I mean.”

Her brow furrows as she considers, “I’d need a good reason.”

“What counts as a good reason?” Marisol presses.

“A good person.”

Marisol’s suddenly aware of just how close they’ve gotten in such a short time, just how little space is between them as Dahlia leans against the wall, meeting Marisol’s coffee eyes with her own sparkling emeralds. Marisol’s breath hitches as the distance seems to be getting smaller and smaller, those emeralds getting closer and closer. And Marisol knows she should pull back, knows those precious gems need to be as far from her as possible, but she just can’t.

Their lips brush, tender and sweet, a shiver running through Marisol at the contact. Marisol’s hand rises to cup her cheek, and she can feel her diamond ring on her finger, brushing the skin beneath her hand, but she doesn’t care about it, not in this moment.

Dahlia pulls away quickly, eyes flicking open as she immediately begins freaking out, “Oh god, I’m doing it again, oh god, oh god,” she groans, her face buried in her hands as she pulls away, stumbling to her feet to put as much cold space as possible between herself and Marisol.

Speaking of, Marisol’s absolutely panicking, eyes bugged out of her head as she reaches for Dahlia, struggling to her feet as well, “What? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Her hand lands on Dahlia’s shoulder, but the other woman pulls away even farther, retreating towards the shadows of the alley.

“I can’t -” her breathing’s turned shallow as she rubs her temples, turning away and slowly sinking back to her knees, “I can’t - keep doing this. I - I did it in the Villa and I’m doing it now and it’s not fair and it always hurts and I’m supposed to be with him but he’s not even with me and it’s you but this is so messy and oh god, it’s happening again and it’s going to mess everything up again but - but this is different, right? But oh god, it’s not, it’s so not, it’s all the same again and I can’t do this and I’m so sorry,” her words trail off as she sucks in her first breath since she started rambling.

“Hey. Dahls,” Marisol urges softly, working to pull Dahlia’s gaze on her as she draws nearer, “Calm down, okay? Calm down.”

Dahlia shakes her head, “No. No, I can’t, I keep doing this, I’m always ruining things and I hate it and you hate me and I’m so sorry, and oh god,” she rasps a heavy breath, her back quivering with it.

“I don’t hate you,” Marisol finally reaches her and squeezes her shoulder, “I’ve never hated you. I don’t think I ever could,” Marisol murmurs, settling back beside a panicked Dahlia as calmly as she can, her own anxiety still skyrocketing.

Her eyes find Marisol’s coffee ones, earnest with a war within them, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that I - you’re engaged. I’m so sorry, that was so stupid and you -”

Marisol cuts her off with a wave of her hand, “I did it as much as you,” she reasons, Dahlia quieting at her words.

Her eyes drop to the ground, piercing into the dark pavement, the smallest amount of street lights reaching them, “Why’d you do it? I - I know I have a history of kissing people I shouldn’t, but… But you’re engaged,” she emphasises the word every time, like she still can’t believe it to be true.

Marisol glances to the silver on her ring finger, glinting in the low light, the egregious stone that James thought would impress her sparkling, somehow reminiscent of the emeralds beside her. “I don’t know. I just… it felt right, I guess. It made sense.”

Dahlia’s quiet for a long time, her index finger circling a point on her thigh as she thinks. “Does it feel right… right now?” she finally asks.

Now Marisol pauses, considering the question, considering her answer, considering the fallout, considering the buildup, considering anything and everything. “Yes.”

Dahlia nods slowly, her mind audibly whirring, “Does James feel right?”

Marisol sighs, her head dipping low and settling in her hands, face in her palms. Gentle fingers scratch along her scalp and tucks loose locks of hair behind her ears without prompting or hesitation. And that’s why it feels right. Because Dahlia never has to force herself to be kind and affectionate and patient, she just is, even if she gets caught up in her emotions, too. She doesn’t fight with Marisol for hours and hours until one of them gives up and leaves. She doesn’t set ultimatums and strict boundaries. She doesn’t tell white lies to avoid making things worse, she just accepts the consequences. She doesn’t get frustrated when Marisol drags up the past, because odds are she never forgot it in the first place.

She let Marisol be Marisol, let her take her time, let Marisol hurt her sometimes, a cut on her hand as opposed to breaking every bone in Marisol’s. She’s honest to a fault, she’s obnoxiously self-aware and apologetic, she even sometimes gave Marisol too much space. But Marisol likes all those things about her. She likes that she didn’t have to guess or sacrifice her freedoms. She just likes Dahlia, good and bad.

Unfortunately, she can’t say the same for James. She hates how much he forces himself to hold her hand or grits his teeth when searching for something to compliment her on, even if she knows he’s trying. She hates how argumentative he is, even if she knows how hypocritical she’s being. She hates how structured everything is with him, how it has to follow his specific schedule, even if she knows it’s hard for him to budge. She hates how red his face gets when she brings up a past fight, even if she knows it’s not in his nature to keep track of every squabble.

She doesn’t hate him, not by a long shot. She loves him, she really does, she just hates some things about him. She can’t bring herself to like everything about him, the good and the bad. She can’t bring herself to love his faults, not the same way she adored Dahlia’s without any effort.

“Sometimes,” she answers truthfully, the word stinging her mouth as it spills off her tongue.

Dahlia nods slowly, hand retracting and going back to tracing an invisible point on her thigh as Marisol lifts her head, “Um, good luck on the wedding?” she says, unsure of the words as they exit her throat.

And Marisol just gapes at her, gapes at the pained and embarrassed features on her face, watches her brows draw together tighter and tighter, “That’s it? I just, like, said that and you don’t care?!” There’s that anger again, that bubbling, boiling, simmering anger that made Marisol’s throat hurt and tears press against the back of her eyes on the terrace. That anger that was so strong it hurt and festered as she stalked off the roof terrace to hide from her nightmare under the covers. That anger that tore her into pieces until she was a hollow shell of herself, an empty husk letting the world pass her by.

But she won’t let it happen again, she won’t fall apart for years, she won’t chase someone that doesn’t want to be chased, she won’t sacrifice predictable stability for a decade old, few weeks long relationship. She won’t do something stupid and insane and ridiculous. She struggles to her feet, intent on leaving Dahlia behind again, but she can’t help herself from exploding, “Do you not care that I basically said I give more of a shit about you than my fiancé?!”

Now Dahlia’s gaping, staring at Marisol in disbelief, eyes wide and jaw hanging wide open, but she doesn’t form any words, Marisol’s hurt and frustration only growing at her silence. She knows she should just turn and run for her hotel, but she can’t, she can’t ever stop herself when it comes to Dahlia, “Did you ever care?! Did you ever regret it? Did you ever wonder what things would be like if you hadn’t kissed her?! Because I do. I have for ten fucking years, Dahlia,” she hisses, “But if you’ve never, then I’m just going to go.”

She starts to turn away, but before she gets the chance, Dahlia’s hands grab the front of Marisol’s blazer, fisting in the material and jerking her down, crashing their lips together in an explosion of lights and colours, Marisol falling into her with ease.

Dahlia breaks it after an electric moment, Marisol’s body humming with it, “Don’t go,” she sounds so desperate, so scared, so much like she did when she confessed and so much like Marisol felt walking away from the Villa, walking away from her.

“Okay,” Marisol whispers against her lips, two syllables but a thousand promises held within them, a thousand promises for 24 year old Marisol, a thousand promises she shouldn’t be making for her 34 year old self.

Dahlia nods, Marisol scooting closer and letting Dahlia’s head fall to her shoulder, an arm snaking around her back. After a long moment, Dahlia sniffles, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, I just didn’t think you meant it like that and - and -” she hiccups and sniffles some more, “I never should have - I just got caught up in it all then and she was being so nice, and just - I’m so sorry,” she repeats, head dipping down and fingers fidgeting her lap.

Marisol’s hand reaches out, gently grasping her twitching fingers to still them, “Do you regret it?” It’s the one question she’s never stopped asking, and the one she most desperately needs an answer for.

“More than anything,” Dahlia answers without hesitation, eyes looking up to pour into Marisol’s coffee abysses.

“Then we’re on the same page,” Marisol smiles softly, the pad of her thumb gently brushing Dahlia’s knuckles encouragingly, comfortingly.

They sit there, frozen as the reunion carries on inside, the faint sounds of it floating to them as they sit together, tucked away from the action. At some point Dahlia’s arm wraps around her waist and Marisol falls into her. At some point Marisol starts telling Dahlia everything she’s been up to recently. At some point Dahlia’s fingers slip into Marisol’s hair, gently slipping through the tresses. At some point Dahlia laughs at something Marisol said. At some point Marisol laughs at something Dahlia said.

But the entire time, it feels right. It feels like they didn’t lose ten whole years, like nothing ever occurred and they’re still in the Villa, awaiting a text or a challenge or the explosion of some petty drama, hidden away on a daybed. It feels like Marisol’s woken up in Majorca again, curled up beside Dahlia, listening to her soft breathing. It feels like she hasn’t been chasing happiness for an entire decade, an entire decade where she almost found it, she really did. But it’s just not the same in some sick, twisted, horrifying and heartbreaking way.

Years with James have never felt as natural as those few weeks with Dahlia, and Marisol’s always hated that. She’s always hated how fixated she was on Dahlia, how long it took her to get over her when she’d never cared that much before. She’s always hated how weird everything felt when she started dating again, how nothing went as smooth in real life as it did in the disastrous Villa. She’s hated how much she romanticised Dahlia and the idea of her, making her ethereal and perfect in her mind, even if she always embraced her flaws. She’s hated the tilted perception she’s had since the words ‘kissed,’ ‘Elisa,’ and ‘I’ were strung into a sentence from Dahlia’s mouth.

And, most of all, she’s hated how she never got to find out what could have been, where they could have ended up, how things would be different with her. She’s never guessed with James, it’s always been black and white, laid out in front of her with him. They’ll date a while, he’ll propose, she’ll plan the wedding, she won’t want kids and maybe he’ll convince her because he wants a cheesy nuclear family to fill a big house and a backyard with a picket fence with.

But Dahlia’s a wild card, always has been. Who knows when they’d say the ‘l’ word, who knows when they’d move in together, who knows when she’d propose, if at all, who knows what a wedding would look like, who knows what kind of family they’d create, who knows where they’d live, who knows what would happen? It’s a mystery of what could have been, thousands of possibilities that Marisol would have a real say in, not just be pulled along for the ride.

A buzz rings from Dahlia’s bag and she pulls it into her lap, rummaging around for her phone. She yanks it out and scans her screen quickly, Marisol glancing over her shoulder to read it, ‘Did you ever find her?’ printed on the screen, Chelsea’s name above it.

“We should go,” Dahlia murmurs, retracting her body from Marisol and tossing her phone back in her bag.

Marisol pushes herself to her feet and offers her hands, Dahlia taking them with a grin and letting Marisol pull her to her feet, leaning into her as she steadies herself. She turns to her dress, brushing herself off and pulling at the fabric before turning back to Marisol, who’s been staring at her the whole time.

She has two options here. Two options with vastly different outcomes, two outcomes with countless consequences, countless possibilities, some significantly better than others, some more manageable than others, some more worth it than others.

Marisol pulls off her engagement ring and stuffs it in her pocket, taking Dahlia’s hand in hers and interlocking their fingers as she meets shimmering eyes, watching the way the light from the street plays in them, a million emotions shining within their colourful, precious emerald swirls. Dahlia swallows thickly, averting her gaze as she squeezes Marisol’s hand in hers, thumb brushing knuckles lightly.

Marisol has made her decision, selected her option, picked her outcome, and readied herself for the countless consequences and possibilities. Accepted the better option in her mind and has begun preparing herself for the least manageable, but no doubt the most worthwhile outcome.

Maybe it took ten years, countless tears, and crippling, debilitating heartache, but they’re back on track. They’ve got another shot at this, at the perfect dream that they’ve never been able to forget, not even when it became a horrific nightmare. But ten years later, the wounds have mostly healed, turned to unassuming scar tissue to be covered with the tattoos of new memories, happy memories that stain the skin for so much longer, pieces of art that last an eternity, that last so much longer than a mere ten years.

#litg marisol #litg fanfic #i swear im not intentionally stealing other peoples ideas #these hcs are just so fucking good #and i hate rhannah so we fixed that lmao #tyl

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demivampirew · 5 years ago

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Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 10.

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Triggers: talking about depression; anxiety

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank you so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too ☺️ (I think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to tag you, tell me ☺️ ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo constip8merm8 penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen littlefreya wondersofdreaming alyxkbrl solariumss sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @michelle-1185

You woke up by the sound of car's honks and drivers cursing at each other. Traffic in LA has always been a mess; that's the kind of sh-t that you'd not had to deal with anymore once you moved to London. You looked at your phone and saw a message from Henry "Good morning beautiful! Call me when you wake up." you did as he told you, but you were directed to his voice mail. "Good morning Hen! I tried to call you but went straight to voicemail. Call me when you're not busy. Kisses" you texted back. After that, you went for breakfast and some aspirin for your headache courtesy of the a-holes screaming outside. You had the house practically to yourself because Beth was still sleeping and when she wasn't on tour she tended to sleep till midday. After some tea and toasts, you went back to your room and decided to continue studying your lines for the audition. You had memorized them already, but you were working on delivering the lines and the emotion of the character. Approximately an hour and a half later, your phone started ringing you could see that it was Henry. You notice immediately that it wasn't a phone call but a video call and for a second doubted about answer it because you were still in pyjamas and hadn't brushed your hair yet, but ultimately, you press the button to accept the call. You almost gasp when you saw him. He was in full Geralt makeup and wardrobe. -H..i...hi- you greeted him surprised and he smiled at you, amused. - Hello! I'm truly sorry that I didn't answer you before, I turned out the phone because I was on the makeup chair and I used the time for line learning. - he apologized. - It's ok - you assure him with a smile. - So, have you finished filming your scenes? - No. We just filmed one of the scenes and there's one more left for today and then I'm done for today, but they're short scenes so it shouldn't take much time. - It's there a kiss on any of those scenes? - you asked curiously - No - he replied, grinning. - Would you be jealous if there'd be one? - No - you denied. - Well, maybe, just a little, tiny bit jealous. - you finally admitted. - I know that's your job, I have the same job so I know that doesn't mean anything more than something that was scripted to do, but I'll admit that I little part of me feel jealous to know that other women will kiss you too. -I understand - Do you really? -Yes. I saw "Valerie" again the night you left, those sex scenes between you and Bradley Cooper were...intense. I was so jealous and you weren't even my girlfriend back then. - You're really cute, you know that, right? - you said in a sweet tone - Not cutter than you. - I miss you a lot - you sighed and he joined you. - Me too. - Will you call me before you go to sleep? I want to see your face as you as well. Not that I don't enjoy seeing Geralt, because the white wolf is hot af, but I miss seeing my baby's face. - Yes, I'll call you again later.- he said smiling. - I've got to go. See you. Bye baby. -Bye Hen!- you replied blowing a kiss to the phone screen. After the conversation ended, you lay on the bed. Damm depression! It had to f-ck you up every chance it got. You felt so many emotions at once. You wanted to laugh because how happy you were of had found a man like Henry; you also wanted to cry tears of joy because of that and tears of sadness as well, because you missed him so much. You felt afraid. Was it too soon to feel that deeply about someone that you met days before. Why if he thought about it and came to the same conclusion and decided to end things with you and not to see you again anymore? You were already crying without even noticing it. You hadn't needed an extra therapy session in the last month, but you desperately needed to talk to your therapist. You texted her and she finally replied ten minutes later and agreed to have an emergency session online -like you did the past few weeks in London-. After your session, you felt more relaxed, like you're able to think again. Therapy is not about finding the answers to your questions but getting the tools to help you find it yourself. You realized after some thinking is that the reason why you were feeling so anxious was that you were afraid people would think that you were using Henry to get over your ex. You knew in your heart that that wasn't the case. You knew you wanted Henry because of him, because of who he was: all you ever wanted in a partner and so much more. Henry was irreplaceable. You forgot about the time difference between London and LA because it was only 2 pm LA time when you got another video call from Henry. This time, he wasn't wearing any witcher makeup, he was himself, wearing a grey t-shirt. - Hi baby - he said and yawned; he was clearly tired after working hard and the lack of good sleep. - Hi sweetie! You're tired, hu?- you replied making a sad puppy face - Yes. I think I'm going to sleep like a log tonight. - Do you have to be early onset tomorrow? - No, just like today around midday. The day after tomorrow I have to be up by 3 am. -Yikes! -Yep. Well, I cannot complain, I love my job. - I know you do. Well, I won't bother you anymore. I just wanted to see your gorgeous face and hear your beautiful voice one more time today. - Me too. I miss you way too much, you know? I hope that I get to see you soon. -Yes. I hope so too. - Talk to you in the morning! -Yeah. Have a good night of sleep baby, you deserved it! Sweet dreams! -Thank you, you too darling!

#henry cavill #fanfiction #demivampirew #henry cavill x reader

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esonetwork · 4 years ago

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Timestamp #214: The Vampires of Venice

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-214-the-vampires-of-venice/

Timestamp #214: The Vampires of Venice

Doctor Who: The Vampires of Venice (1 episode, s05e06, 2010)

There’s something fishy in the waters of Venice.

Meanwhile in the TARDIS, Part II

The Doctor gets Amy back into the TARDIS where she continues trying to seduce him. While he tries to work the console, proclaiming to be a mix between Gandalf and Yoda, Amy points out just how much a a typical guy he is.

The Doctor tells her that he just can’t see it anymore. He’s lost the wonder. Everything is just… stuff. He wants Amy to help open his eyes to the wonders again.

Amy takes this as a clue that she’s not the first companion. When she asks how many of them were girls, the Doctor dances around the question, so Amy brings up the visual records with a little trick. The TARDIS obliges, showing her only the women who have traveled with the Doctor.

The Doctor decides to go find Rory, who is at his bachelor party.

The Vampires of Venice

In Venice, 1580, Guido presents his teenage daughter Isabella to Rosanna Calvierri and her son, Francesco. Isabella is seeking entrance to Rosanna’s school, and when it is granted, Rosanna takes the young woman promptly.

As Guido leaves the room, Isabella is inspected before Francesco reveals himself as a vampire.

Four centuries in the future, Rory is enjoying his bachelor party until the Doctor pops out of a cake instead of the expected stripper. The Doctor reveals that Amy tried to kiss him, but it’s okay because she is a great kisser.

It sounded better in his head, you know.

Some time later, the Doctor is working on the TARDIS console as he offers relationship advice to the young couple. He also offers to take them to any location so they can get away together. He decides on Venice, a bit perturbed that Rory understands the “bigger on the inside” concept.

He goes on for a spell about the founding and history of Venice, including a note to avoid Casanova, before running into a guard who asks for traveling credentials in an attempt to stop the plague. The travelers use the psychic paper to bypass the checkpoint – Rory is apparently the Doctor’s eunuch – before running into Guido and learning about Isabella’s plight.

In the school’s courtyard, Francesco tries to convince his mother that they have more than enough converts, but she’s not convinced at all. He later trawls the streets looking for another victim. The subsequent screams draw Amy and Rory. After spotting the vampire fangs, Amy gives chase.

The Doctor breaks into the school and encounters a group of female vampires, impressed by their lack of reflections. They ask who he is and he shows them a library card, so they vamp out to chase him away. He runs into Amy and Rory. Amy and the Doctor are excited about the vampires, but Rory is appalled.

Amy and the Doctor strategize with Guido on how to get into the school undercover. The Doctor and Rory argue that Amy shouldn’t be the one to go in, but she spins an elaborate cover story. Rory does not like the idea of the Doctor posing as her fiancé, so Amy and Rory pose as siblings to gain Rosanna’s favor. One flash of the psychic paper later and Amy’s matriculated.

She soon finds Isabella and learns about being strapped to a chair for a procedure that she cannot remember. All she knows is that the sunlight now burns her skin. As Amy looks for a way in for her traveling companions, Guido (in Rory’s stag party shirt) takes the Doctor and an apprehensive Rory to meet her.

They talk about Amy’s relationship with the Doctor while the Time Lord shows off his huge UV light. Rory challenges the Doctor about his attitude that makes people take risks to impress him. They also discover a corpse that it completely drained of all fluids before being ambushed.

Amy gets captured and taken to Rosanna where she is confronted about the psychic paper. Amy is strapped down and bitten by Rosanna. The headmistress explains that they drink the girls dry and replace their blood with that of their own kind. Amy kicks Rosanna, exposing a perception filter and the vampire’s true nature.

Yep, they’re aliens.

Isabella rescues Amy and the travelers escape into the sunlight. The Doctor tries to go back for Isabella but is attacked by an electric shock. As the morning continues on, Isabella is forced into the canal behind the school where she is eaten alive by the males of the species who are hiding beneath the water’s surface.

Rosanna returns to her throne room to find the Doctor waiting for her. He has deduced she is from Saturnyne. She’s using a perception filter to appear human and they share a common identity as alien refugees. Rosanna’s planet was consumed by the cracks in time, and while fleeing the Silence, they ended up on Earth. Rosanna asks for the Doctor’s help in rebuilding her species, but he only wants to know what happened to Isabella. Rosanna disavows Isabella, remarking only that all traitors must be killed. As the Time Lord is escorted out, he shouts that he will stop her. If only because she didn’t know Isabella’s name.

With a malfunctioning perception filter, Rosanna assembles her girls in the courtyard and prepares to wage war. Meanwhile, the Doctor reunites with Guido and his traveling companions and hashes out Rosanna’s plan. He deduces that she plans to sink Venice and give rise to a new Saturnyne.

The “vampires” pick that moment to assault Guido’s home, forcing the heroes to flee. Guido commandeers the UV light and locks himself inside, luring the girls to his gunpowder stash which he uses to destroy the invaders at the expense of his own life.

As Rosanna begins her plan, the Doctor forces Amy to return to the TARDIS. Rory thanks the Doctor and pursues her as the Time Lord returns to the school and tries to stop Rosanna’s machine. He finds it deadlock sealed, but even the news that her daughters are dead doesn’t dissuade the headmistress.

Rory and Amy find a detour in Francesco. Rory fights him while Amy uses her compact mirror to disintegrate the alien in a burst of sunlight. Amy kisses Rory in celebration before they both rush off to help the Doctor.

The Time Lord is miffed about Rory’s change of heart, but he soon leaves them in charge of dismantling the throne as he ascends the bell tower after Rosanna. He ascends to the spire and stops the weather machine before finding Rosanna on the canal’s edge.

The matriarch’s perception filter has failed, locking her in her human form. She prepares to dive to her death, and as the Doctor rushes to stop her, she tells him that he’ll have to live with the death of her species on his conscience. She then jumps into the water and is consumed.

The Doctor, Amy, and Rory return to the TARDIS. Seeing Amy’s excitement and her apprehension about the wedding, Rory offers to break off their engagement. Amy replies that he should travel with them, and the Doctor agrees.

As they are about to leave, silence falls around the Doctor, an omen of the darkness still surrounding them.

This is a tough story to consider. On the one hand, the story is quite average with a small connection to the ongoing thread about the Doctor being the last of his kind. This story would have played well in the Tennant era which leaned heavily on the Doctor pledging to prevent another such genocide. It also plays well here, both as a counterbalance to Matt Smith’s portrayal of a younger, hip, almost laissez-faire Doctor and as a fulfillment of his promise to never be cowardly or cruel, and to never give up or give in.

On the other hand, we have some great (and tough to handle) character development with this twisted triangle. As much as I despise the attempted seduction of the Doctor by Amy, it opens the door to some dramatic friction. Amy’s attracted to the Doctor, but the Doctor isn’t interested in her. Rory loves Amy and she seems to love him, but she’s not quite ready to settle down. The Doctor’s interests reside with unraveling the mysteries surrounding these two while helping them to find each other.

But the biggest source of friction is how poorly Amy treats Rory. She seems irritated that the Doctor brought him in, but seems excited to be with Rory on a wedding-gift vacation. It all comes back to the Doctor, however, because they are there purely because of time travel and Amy immediately gravitates back to the adventure instead of guiding and mentoring her future husband.

Let’s be frank: Rory needs reassurance about their relationship and Amy is either ignorant or reluctant to provide it. She’s not holding up her end of the Pond-Williams team and effectively leaving Rory alone in the storm roiling around them.

I wish that she would treat Rory better because I really love the chemistry between Karen Gillan and Matt Smith, but that amazing connectivity is blunted by Amy’s disregard for Rory, who seems to be a really sharp and grounded character.

I loved a lot of the mythology touches throughout the episode, from the First Doctor library card to the Doctor’s continued fear of heights. A closer look at the library card reveals that it was issued to “Dr. J. Smith”, continuing the John Smith alias into the Hartnell era, and was registered to 76 Totter’s Lane in Shoreditch, London. The story also swerved into meta territory with the jokes about Casanova, which touches on both David Tennant and guest star Helen McCrory.

We also cannot forget that the Doctor has plenty of experience with vampires and blood-drinkers, including State of Decay, The Curse of Fenric, and Smith and Jones.

I bounced back and forth for a while on the score for this one, but finally settled on my modus operandi of rounding up.

Rating: 4/5 – “Would you care for a jelly baby?”

UP NEXT – Doctor Who: Amy’s Choice

The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

#Doctor Who #Eleventh Doctor #Timestamps Project

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becbibliophile · 5 years ago

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Boy, what a year 2019 ended up being! As I’m closing in on the year, I’m nearing 278 books read this year. So picking the top 10% (ish) is quite a task. This year held a lot of surprises for me. I had some of my most anticipated make this list but also had some new to me authors and so of my old favorites make a comeback into the list. I had such a hard time getting it down, so I fudged a little, including some entire series (all released this year) because I just couldn’t pick which one to choose.

I hope you’ll give some of the authors on my list a try, especially ones you may not have heard of because each one of these authors is a shining star! I can’t wait to see what 2020 brings to my kindle and my never-ending TBR!

#ROMCOM #FriendsToLovers

‘Getting lucky’ is a phrase I could barely say without blushing…

Yep! I’m that girl. The one my friends call goody two shoes…

But…good girls don’t finish first. THEY—GET—DUMPED. Even after investing—no, wasting—six years of their life on the guy who was supposed to be the one.

So…I traded in my halo for a pair of horns!

Hello, world…Clover Kelly is single and ready to mingle!

Then it happened, I suddenly found myself staring in the dating game to beat all dating games.

While pouring out my heart to my best friend, my new quest for lust is accidentally broadcast live…ON THE RADIO! Yay, me!

Did I mention my best friend is an uber-famous radio personality…and a guy? A really hot guy? Yeah, his face isn’t plastered all over town simply for his name…

When the requests to win my heart came pouring in and became date after horribly bad date – I couldn’t help but wonder…

Could he? Could we? I mean I’m already breaking all the rules.

What’s a girl gotta do to get lucky?

MY THOUGHTS

What could go wrong when you fall in love with your best friend? LOL

Friends-to-lovers is my favorite genre and Cary nailed it in this super cute, fun yet sexy read.

Cary is one of those diamonds in the rough – more people need to be reading her. And this ROMCOM is the perfect segway into reading one of my favorite authors. If you haven’t picked up this book you must! Check out the trailer for the book.

vimeo

GOODREADS | AMAZON

#SuspenceRomance #MafiaRomance #FriendsToLovers

She fled from the depths of hell, her life barely intact.

Iris is finally living a peaceful life away from all that she fears. She’s ready to come out of hiding and start living again.

He walked away from a life no one is supposed to escape.

Callan’s been looking over his shoulder for the past two years. There’s a reason they say the mafia is for life. Now, in a new city, and as the guardian of his sister, he has the chance to create a life he can be proud of.

Iris’s world is rocked off its axis when she meets her new neighbor with turquoise eyes and a protective streak a mile wide. Soon the chemistry between them sparks to life and it’s not long before passion consumes them. But their pasts are never too far away…

When those he loves the most are threatened, will the cost of his sacrifice be his own life?

MY THOUGHTS

Vow of Sacrifice was book 5 in the series but each can be read as a standalone. This entire series is AMAZING!

We finally get mysterious Callen’s story and it did not disappoint. I loved seeing the softer side of Callen and Iris brought out all the softness and sexiness of Callen.

This book gives you a wide range of emotions, as Iris is running from an abusive relationship, while Callen is trying to live his life the best he can away from the mafia. From the first time we meet Callen in James’ book, you know that there is a depth and such a story behind his stormy eyes. How he’s raising his little sister and now as he takes in Iris to be her protector.

Emma does a great job of balancing the suspense with the romance. Once you start one of her books, you don’t want to put it down. As always, each book can be read as a standalone but I would highly recommend Emma’s Vow Series. It’s seriously one of my top suspense romance series!

vimeo

SERIES GOODREADS | AMAZON | B&N | APPLE BOOKS | KOBO

#FakeRomance #SportsRomance

Wanted: one hot guy with rock-hard abs and a big stick.

Broke and desperate, Sugar Ryan has no use for arrogant, bad boy athletes . . . until she’s forced to bargain with the cockiest of them all.

If only he knew she was alive.

Her mission? Get on this hockey player’s radar any way possible.

Zack Morgan is the king of the ice and the bedroom—but nothing prepares him for the mystery girl who shows up everywhere he does—frat parties, his favorite bar, and finally his front door with an offer he can’t refuse. The only rule in her boyfriend bargain: no falling in love.

But after one (um, two) smoking-hot hookups, he’s done with pretending and vows to make their fake relationship real. Too bad she can’t trust a player with a reputation for breaking hearts.

Will this hockey star score his forever girl or will their Boyfriend Bargain end in heartbreak?

A standalone hockey romance.

MY THOUGHTS

TALK ABOUT SWOONY!!! OH MY Z for the WIN! And everyone knows that I am a big sucker for hockey romances.

Sugar and Z were so much fun!

Boyfriend Bargain starts as the typical fake boyfriend story – but as you dive in, it becomes so much more than the need to pull the wool over someone else’s eyes. From the start, Sugar and Z are burning hot together. And with each page turn, you become more and more invested in these two into becoming more. Both have pasts that are full of demons and heartache which makes them all the more better to become a team together.

Zane is smoking HOT. And thank you, Ilsa, for this cover because he definitely makes the perfect Z

GOODREADS | AMAZON

#FriendsToLovers #SportsRomance

What happens when an almost thirty-year-old virgin agrees to let her Scottish footballer best friend give her some lessons in seduction?

Lots of banter, awkwardness, jealousy, and heat.

Midfielder Maclay “Mac” Logan is a loud-mouthed, tattooed ginger content with focusing on football. But when an adorably-freckled seamstress comes barreling into his life, he finds Netflix-And-Bickering with her to be his new favorite pastime.

Freya Cook is used to being the invisible woman with a needle and thread, offering cheeky punchlines as she helps dress London’s finest. She’s plus-sized in body and spirit, and other than her friendship with Mac, talking to the opposite sex is one skill she never mastered.

However, after one innocent game of Never Have I Ever, Mac offers to play Love Coach for Freya.

What neither of them see coming are the feelings that develop when the clothes come off.

Now they’re both about to learn the biggest lesson of all: Don’t fall in love with your best friend.

MY THOUGHTS

Such a cute story about best friends who decide to add some benefits to their lives and it ends up being a lot more than either of them expected!

First off, I have to say that I want Amy to never stop writing in the Harris world. I feel like she could go on forever with this klan and I would be plum happy to aways have storylines coming from the other side of the pond with their sexy footballers.

Freya and Mac may seem like an odd couple but the two have been the best of friends for the past year. But after an innocent game of Never Have I Ever at a party – Mac comes to find out that Freya has little experience with the opposite sex. So he decides that maybe he can give her some pointers on how to date. What he never expected was that his own feeling for the quirky yet cute redhead would come bubbling to the surface and he would come to find his jealous side when it comes to all things Freya.

This was such a fun, laugh out loud, cute yet super sexy read. I loved Mac and Freya together!

GOODREADS | AMAZON

#MilitaryRomance #SecondChance #SuspenceRomance

We were best friends at ten. Lovers at sixteen. Going to be married at nineteen.

Until she woke up one day and couldn’t remember me.

Leaving the small town was easy. Leaving her was my only regret. Ten years later, with a resume that said I had the perfect kill shot, I landed a job at a Security firm. Finding my way in the civilian life, I never thought it would be her I would find.

She still owned my heart. She still looked at me like I was a stranger. I wasn’t leaving her again. This time, we were playing by my rules. I’d been given a second chance to right my wrongs and I was going to start by claiming what was mine.

We were lovers at twenty-eight. Getting married at twenty-nine.

Until she woke up and remembered me.

MY THOUGHTS

WOW!!! This book was Amazing!! I don’t even know where to begin with this book. Tina is a new to me author and I was so taken by this book, I read it all in one sitting.

There really isn’t much I can tell you about the book without giving away major plot points. But it was a page-turner. It will keep you on edge and surprises arise throughout the book.

A second chance romance with a twist!

Such a great read and I look forward to reading more from Tina!

GOODREADS | AMAZON

I hope you will check out these books – at least add them to your TBRs and I’ll see you back here tomorrow for #25-21.

xo –

Enter to win a $25 Amazon GC!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

See my list of the top reads for 2019! I'm kicking it off with numbers 26-30 today. @authorcaryhart @authoremmaren @ilsamaddenmills @amydawsauthor and Tina Saxton Boy, what a year 2019 ended up being! As I'm closing in on the year, I'm nearing 278 books read this year.

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time-to-go-97-blog · 7 years ago

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Eva x Chris. Road Trip 2.

Thank you so much for the prompt, hope I did it justice!!

I lost him, but I found myself, and somehow that was everything: totally nicked this of Taylor Swift, but it’s hella relevant.

-----

It was warm, warmer than it usually was in Norway, and especially warm for 1am. Chris was texting Eva and both were still bitter about Noora and William leaving them for London. The heat was making them restless and neither could sleep. They had been texting each other for hours; it started with asking how their day was before moving onto a more serious conversation. It was clear to both that the other was just as lonely and Chris knew that Eva needed an escape be it just for the night which was the very reason he suggested it:

Chris: lets go for a drive

Eva: ???

Chris: lets just go, don’t think about it

Eva: ok but where

Chris: idk, but I have my car, I’ll be at yours in ten minutes. Lets just drive anywhere

Eva: im so confused right now

Chris: just get a playlist ready and bring some snacks. Ill see you soon x

Eva couldn’t help but laugh at the spontaneity of it all. A part of her wanted to stay indoors and mope around but a bigger part of her wanted to drive into the unknown with Chris. In a giddy mood, she rushed around pocketing her essentials; her phone, and purse. She then stuffed her backpack with an assortment of snacks and drinks. She could feel her heart racing in anticipation for what the night may bring. The only thing left to do was choose on a playlist; she decided to download a bunch of songs by Lana Del Rey and The Weeknd. Perfect for the mood we’re in, she thought to herself, her mind drifting to Noora for a moment. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and she laughed at the fact that Chris was entering through the door instead of her window.

Eva opened the door to Chris’ bright smile. He pulled her into a hug both, both relieved at the contact of each other, their loneliness vanishing by the second.

“Let me just lock up,” she says, pulling back.

“Ok, I’ve left the car running,” he replies, taking her backpack of her.

“You could have just texted me you were here, you know,” she smiles, turning to lock the door.

“I know,” he starts to walk to the car, “but then I wouldn’t have got to hug you.” He goes to open the passenger door, waiting for Eva to get it, then quickly jogs around to the driver’s seat.

An hour and a half into their journey and Eva has taken her shoes off and is sitting cross legged. Her hand is wrist deep in a Pringles can, whereas Chris has eaten half of his chocolate bar. They had hit the motorway 30 minutes ago, both agreeing they would stop at whatever junction “felt right.” Eva had questioned Chris on where he was going exactly, but he had stated that for this road trip (unlike their previous one), they had no destination in mind. Instead, the journey was spent playing silly games like I spy, which Chris was winning, not that anyone was keeping score, but his smug grin was telling. The other half of the journey was spent belting out the song lyrics from the playlist which Eva was much better at, Chris marvelled at the fact that she knew so many lyrics by heart. They both knew they weren’t good singers, but loved the carefree feeling present in the car.

Two hours into the journey, they spotted a diner at the side of the road. They still had plenty of snacks – Eva took her responsibility very seriously – but both agreed they wanted a proper meal. They slid into a booth after ordering their food – fries and a vanilla milkshake for Eva, a cheeseburger for Chris. It was hard to believe that just a couple hours earlier they had been texting each other, yet right now they were miles away from home just enjoying each other’s company.

“Let’s play 20 questions,” came Eva’s voice.

“Sure, what road trip is complete without 20 questions,” Chris replied, eager to know more about Eva.

“You first,” she said as their food arrived. Eva knew the first question set the tone for the rest of the game. She wanted to know if Chris wanted to ask silly questions or more serious ones.

“Ok, I’ll go easy on you for the first question, Gossip Girl or One Tree Hill?” he asks before stealing some of her milkshake.

Eva bites into a fry, “how is that an easy question, Schistad. You can’t make me choose!”

He laughs at her disbelief, “hey, you chose this game.”

She pauses to think for a few minutes, then hesitatingly mutters out, “One Tree Hill, Nathan and Haley are goals.” He laughs at how long it took her to answer his question, knowing it was a difficult choice for her to make.

“Whatever, it’s my turn now,” she takes a sip of her milkshake as she thinks of a question. “Ok, what is the last picture you took on your phone,” she asks, her eyes boring into his. He thinks for a minute but can’t remember so reaches for his phone. He holds his phone out letting her unlock it and go to his photos. She holds the phone so the both can see as she clicks onto camera roll. The both pause at the last picture. It was of Eva, taken a couple of days ago; she was looking at someone out of the shot, unaware of Chris taking her photo, the sun was setting behind her as she sat on the grass. She was smiling, her eyes bright and a few of her friends could be seen in the background

“I didn’t know you took this,” Eva states, then proceeds to send the picture to herself, “it’s nice.”

Chris coughs, feeling slightly awkward, “yeah, I thought you looked nice, so yeah,” he mumbles then bites into his burger.

Eva smiles, “it’s your turn.”

“Why did you and Jonas break up,” the question comes out in one quick breath, as he avoids eye contact.

Eva freezes, the question hitting her at once, but then pulls herself together.

“Wow,” she lets out a dry laugh, “going straight for the kill.”

“You don’t have to answer,” Chris replies, “I’ll ask something else.”

“No, it’s ok, just took me by surprise,” she looks at him earnestly. “Besides, it’s not really much of a secret. I thought I loved him, and at one point maybe I did. But it just wasn’t right, he didn’t treat me how I deserved to be treated which I now realise. But breaking things off was the right thing to do. I lost him, but I found myself, and somehow that was everything.” (Taylor Swift quote).

Eva smiles, happy at the person she’s become now, how she’s grown stronger and more confident over the past several months, “come on, let’s go. We’ll continue this game another time.” Their food had long finished and Eva was itching to get back on the road. They continued to explore the quiet roads of the town they were currently in; the diner hadn’t been a let-down so they both agreed to stay circling the town.

5 songs later, Chris was parking the car at a spot halfway up a hill, the scenic view of the town splayed out ahead of them. They got out the car and sat on the bonnet, the air slightly chillier in the minutes just before dawn. They watched in silence as the street lamps turned off street by street and the sky turned from a deep blue to warmer oranges and blues. Eva shivered involuntarily.

“I have a spare hoodie in my car, let me go get it,” Chris says, sliding off the bonnet.

“No wait, it’s the penetrator hoodie, and no offense but … they’re kind of ridiculous,” she bites her lip, smiling slightly. Chris stares at her but she doesn’t say anything.

He sighs, “ok fine, you wear this one,” he hands her the hoodie he’d been wearing himself, “and I’ll wear the penetrator one. Happy?”

She nods and takes his hoodie, it’s warm and smells like him which makes her smile. “Oh, and while you’re there, bring the snackpack,” she adds as an afterthought.

“The snackpack,” he questions, handing her the bag.

“Yep, it’s a backpack with snacks in it – a snackpack,” she smiles at her invention and Chris can’t help but laugh at her goofiness. Only Eva, he thinks to himself whilst shaking his head. He sits next to her on the bonnet and they both look out to the town beneath them. The night started with the both of them feeling alone and in need of solace, but it ended with them content in each other’s company.

#skam #skam fanfiction #chriseva #mohnstad #eva kviig mohn #chris schistad #eva x chris #chris x eva #road trip #unbeta'd #prompt

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seriestrash · 8 years ago

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London’s Calling

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13

Epilogue: Forever

Word Count: 1515

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

Two weeks pass since her final day at school and Riley is back in her old New York apartment. She’d only been back in the country for the day and there were already boxes sprawled across her room, just like the day she left.

It’s weird, to just ‘pick up where she left off’. Riley already knew she wouldn’t be able to slot into her old life like nothing happened. Even though on paper that’s essentially what she was doing. Same apartment, same school, same after school hang out spot, even most of the same friends. That misplaced feeling she had during her visit in Spring Break returns, the one Riley predicated she’d have until she readjusts. Strangeness aside she’s ultimately relieved to be back.

It’s late - late for Riley at least - just after 10pm. Riley had briefly seen the two geniuses and Zay when she arrived. Of course Maya was there too but she stayed long after their other friends left. The blonde practically handcuffed herself to the brunette the moment she landed. Riley quickly became overwhelmed with the new-old life change and during dinner Riley delicately tried to hint at Maya to leave so she could have a moment alone to process things. Too excited to have her best friend back Maya wasn’t catching on but luckily Topanga picked up on it and suggested that Riley gets an early nights sleep. Alone. Making light of it of course Topanga tells the very pouty blonde that she has nothing to worry about because Riley was back and they had forever to spend with each other.

Thankful for her mother having her back Riley retreated to her room where she spent a few hours going through her boxes. Trying to decide if she wanted to set her room up the way it was or give it a new look. You know, that whole readjustment / can’t slot into the old life thought she keeps coming back to.

A new look was what she decided on, although she wouldn’t be making any headway with her decorating that evening. Riley was just thankful her bed was set up with fresh sheets. It’s just now dawning on her how exhausted she is. Just as Riley gets to her feet after crouching down by one of her boxes she hears rustling on the fire escape. Riley lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes her head thinking Maya had already returned to visit but she’s shocked to see Lucas standing by the open window.

Riley told her friends about moving home the moment she knew it was definite. Riley knew that it would get back to Lucas of course but she didn’t allow herself to think about that, as she hadn’t let herself think of him much after Spring Break. Riley knew Lucas would have known she was coming back today, even though she made a point to not talk about him with her friends. Still, she’s surprised to see him so soon.

“May I come in?” He asks sheepishly.

“Sure,” Riley nods, still taken by surprise.

“I heard you were back…” Lucas says as he climbs through the window.

“Yep,” Riley says quietly. “I heard it’s for good?” Lucas finds Riley’s gaze.

“I think so, yeah.” Riley shifts nervously on her feet.

“Can we talk?” Lucas motions to the bay window.

Riley nods slightly and follows him over. Sure Riley and Maya had sat in the bay window already, it was the first thing they did when she got back but that was light, that was fun. This would be the first real bay window session Riley had in a year and it was certainly coming earlier than she thought.

“I know I said I’d respect however much time you needed but you texted me a couple weeks ago and I kind of got excited that you were back…” Lucas chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry if you’re not ready.. We don’t have to-”

“Lucas, it’s fine,” Riley wears a small smile, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?” More and more hope creeping into the boy by the second.

“Yes,” Riley bops her head gently, “I was thinking about calling you tomorrow, to talk.”

“I can come back then… If that’s better for you?” Lucas asks quickly and Riley feels her chest getting warm as she watches his nerves get the better of him.

“No, stay,” A slight giggle escapes her.

Even with light laughter filling the room things are still a little weird, but that was to be expected. "I’ve spent the past two months trying to think of some grand gesture to prove how sorry I am-”

“Lucas, you don’t need a big gesture,” Riley gently cuts him off, “I know you’re sorry and I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Lucas looks relieved to hear her words, “Good, but I still feel like I need to show you how much you mean to me.”

There he goes with his two best types of apologies. A million ‘I’m sorries’ followed by gestures to prove just how sorry he is. Although, normally Lucas’ gestures are subtle but this one was anything but small.

The Texan pulls out a folded piece of paper from his jean pocket and hands it to Riley.

She unfolds the paper and looks at it confused, “What is it?”

“Tickets, to Paris.” Lucas states.

“What?” Riley laughs nervously and shakes her head in disbelief.

“They’re for the week after we graduate senior year. I’m going to have to work the rest of high school to pay them off but they’re ours.” Riley’s still puzzled so Lucas continues. “That’s two years from now. I want you in my life in two years from now- I want you in my life twenty years from now. Even if it’s just as friends,” Lucas gushes, “Riley, we’re forever and I’m so sorry if I made you doubt that or think that I doubted that.”

“What about Rain?” Riley fidgets as she quickly gets overwhelmed with the situation.

“That finished long before it even started,” Lucas says, “I know you deserve more details and if you want them I’ll explain everything but right now I just really want you to know that it’s always going to be you for me. Forever is a long time, Riley and if you’ll let me, I’d like to spend it making things up to you.”

Riley is at a loss for words as she stares into his emerald eyes.

“Did you mean what you said?” Riley whispers.

“Of course. I’d do anything to make it up to you,” Lucas edges closer in desperation.

“No, not that,” Riley shakes her head.

“Then what?” Lucas asks.

“At Maya’s you blurted out something-”

“Yes,” Lucas says firmly as he continues to hold her gaze as he now realises what she’s talking about. “I just thought it would hurt too much to say it before you left - the first time - so I didn’t.”

“Not talking is kind of what got us into this mess,” Riley shares a deflated laugh.

“That’s going to change,” Lucas nods, trying to convince Riley, “We can talk more. I don’t want anything left unsaid.”

“Okay.” Riley nods too, pointing her gaze at her lap.

“Okay.” Lucas lets out a little breath of relief.

“I forgot to say something before I left New York too,” Riley says quietly as she lifts her head.

“Yeah?” Lucas tilts his head slightly to the left.

“I love you too,” Riley’s smile is ever so slight but full of warmth, still masked with a hint of reluctancy and fear to let him in again.

Lucas is hit with a tidal wave of emotions, shock, relief, overwhelming joy. Lucas holds Riley’s gaze. Her smile is sweet but there’s still a sense of sadness behind her eyes. A tireless but something more than the absence of sleep.

Lucas opens his arms and wraps them around Riley, pulling her in closer to him. An ear and cheek pressed to his chest and with her eyes gently closed she lets out a breath of relief. It’s as if she’s waited the entire year for this one hug. Lucas rests his chin on Riley’s head and the longer they stay like that in a peaceful silence the more Riley can feel her worries melting away.

Even after embracing the last few months of her time in London, Riley had been carrying around that lonely feeling with her and the pain of her estranged relationship with Lucas. But, there was something so therapeutic about their embrace that had Riley thinking about it long after Cory chased Lucas out the window.

When Riley lies awake in bed that night thinking about it she knew the damage between her and Lucas was not irreparable. It of course - like any of the obstacles she faces with her readjusting - would take time but she knew they were forever. It’s this exact thought that sees Riley reaching for her phone to update her status and it’s then that she knows she speaks not of a place but a person.

THE END

End Notes: Firstly I just want to say that I hope this ending is satisfying enough for my readers. I know I could have spent time writing about Riley actually adjusting to those obstacles she’ll approach but I felt like that wasn’t the story I was telling. London’s Calling was about Riley and Lucas surviving a year of disconnect. So basically their story begins and ends in the bay window. I don’t need to detail them doing anything past this point because I sounded like a broken record. They’re forever. Their story goes on long after my words stop.

Anyway……THIS HAS BEEN A RIDE. I just want to say thank you SO much to everyone who has read this story. Thank you to anyone who has liked a chapter, reblogged it with or without tags, sent a reply or taken the time to shoot me a message about it. YOU ARE ALL THE REASONS WHY I WROTE THIS.

I just really hope you know that I see ALL forms of appreciating you send me. Whether its replies / tags in reblogs etc. I know I don’t reply to all of them bc I don’t sometimes have the means to but I see them all and they all make me SO HAPPY!!

some active readers and reviewers that I want to give shootouts to include:

❤️@rileyliley❤️ @reytonbleyer ❤️ @grizbehr @maddog-sunshine ❤️ @spamiam77 ❤️ @madelinecoffee ❤️ @shadowhuntersbabe ❤️ @rowmeyer ❤️ @roastturtleduck ❤️ @shebe67 ❤️ @plutoxriley ❤️ @alwaysriley ❤️ @an-autumn-rose ❤️ @irish97 and a special shoutout to @siennese whom I’m pretty sure has sent me in-depth reviews for every single chapter!!!

I know SO many more of you deserve recognition but thats all I can give for now but please know I love you all so much and I cant wait for the next story we share together ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#rucas #rucas au #rucas fic #rucas imagine #rucas fanfic #THE END

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fanfictionbeginagain · 8 years ago

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Chapter Nineteen

The next day Richard, Robb and myself went out for a Sunday breakfast together.

Robb was just cutting into his pancakes when Richard spoke, “Hey Robb, do you know what dating is?”

I froze, halfway through chewing a bite of watermelon as I looked up at Richard cautiously, what on earth was he doing?

“It’s where boys and girls have food together.” Said Robb, not looking up from his pancakes.

“Yep. What else do they do?” asked Richard, ignoring the quizzing look I was giving him.

“They kiss and stuff.” Said Robb pulling a face.

Richard nodded as he chewed a mouthful of bacon, looking down at his plate for a moment, he looked oddly serious, though his voice was light, “Would it be alright by you if I date your mum?” he asked.

I flicked my gaze over to Robb, still sitting absolutely frozen in my seat next to him. I had been planning to tell Robb about us, something I shared with Richard on our drive home yesterday, but I hadn’t thought of a when to do it, let alone how. It seemed he had taken the matter into his own hands and I was far more anxious that I should have been to hear what my son thought.

His little brow was pinched in thought as he chewed his mouthful of pancake. If he sensed the seriousness of the situation, he didn’t show it, “I suppose that’s ok.” He eventually shrugged before he turned his attention back to his pancakes.

A toothy smile erupted across Richard’s features as he turned to look at me, smiling happily and a little smugly.

I rolled my eyes in response, ignoring the happy butterflies that were fluttering around my stomach I turned my attention back to my own food.

…

Valentine’s Day at Melanie’s Peonies was absolute bedlam. There were pre-orders to be picked up, new orders to be made and customers to help.

Neither James or myself had time for a lunch break so by the time I went and picked Robb up from school, I was exhausted.

Coming home and walking in the door, I wasn’t prepared for a beautiful bouquet of pink peonies, my favourite, sitting on in a vase on the kitchen counter.

“Mum can I watch cartoons?” asked Robb the moment we stepped in the door.

“Do your homework first.” I replied, feeling a little distracted as I gazed at the bouquet.

“Aw man!” he complained before he shuffled away.

“Who are those for?” I asked as I came into the kitchen.

“They’re for you dear.” Said my mother simply, “They arrived this morning so I put them in some water for you.”

I smiled as I approached the vase and stroked one of the soft petals, they were well grown peonies, their thick stems showing how healthy they were to support such a massive head of a flower, “Who are they from?” I asked in confusion, who would have been so thoughtful as to send me flowers on Valentine’s Day?

“Who do you think?” asked my mother as she grabbed her cup of coffee and headed into the lounge room.

Smiling to myself I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture and sent it to Richard with a text that read; ‘Thank you for my flowers. Though I’m not sure if I should feel flattered by the gesture or annoyed that you brought them from my competition.’

I got a reply moment later; ‘Ideally I’d like to take you out for dinner but I’m working. Will the traitorous flowers suffice for now?’

‘They’ll do.’ I smiled as I sent the text.

Richard was in Italy filming the second season of his new television series ‘Masters of Florence’ though he was coming back to visit on the weekend. We had not seen each other since our breakfast together on Sunday where all we had done was hold hands.

I found myself strangely anxious for more contact with him. I felt like a drug addict, once I had one taste of how great physical affection could be, I was hooked. I wanted more. But such things would have to wait.

That Friday I drove my parents to the airport and waved them goodbye as they began a month long tour of France, Italy, Ireland and Scotland. That night, I drove Robb to his first sleepover. I had expected him to be scared, cling to me and tell me he didn’t want to go… but he’d practically ran inside, eager to play with the little boy he had become friends with at school.

It was strange but as I handed his overnight bag to the mother of the other boy, I was struck by just how normal the whole situation was. I had just dropped my son off at his first sleep over with a friend he had made from school. It was something I never dreamed would happen.

To any other mother, it was hardly a cause for celebration. Kids stayed at other kids houses all the time, but it was just how normal the action was that made me so happy. I had thought Robb and I having a normal life as an impossibility for so long, yet here we were, living it.

That night I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I read a book.

In High School I had loved books but since my capture and my escape, my life had been so filled with Robb that I didn’t really have time to simply sit and read a book and now I did.

But if I was going to read a novel, I decided I should be fully decadent in my time alone. Who knew when it would happen again?

I ran myself a bath, poured myself a glass of wine and sat in the tub, soaking in its warm waters reading a book that was recommended to me, ‘The Fault in Our Stars.’ Apparently it was an amazing book and by the first chapter I was hooked, it was such an easy read. I was almost annoyed when my phone began to ring.

Setting the book down, I grabbed my phone and my annoyance quickly disappeared, “Hello there Mr. Madden.”

“Hello Miss Porter.” He replied, his Scottish accent sounded so familiar that I found myself smiling because of it, “How was your day?”

“My day was fine. I sent my parents off to France and my son off to a sleep over so I’m all alone tonight.” I said simply as I reached over and grabbed my glass of wine.

“And are you taking advantage of your solitude?”

“Uh huh.” I said as I took a sip of wine, “I am currently soaking in a warm bath with a glass of wine and a good book.”

“That sounds a lot better than what I am doing. I am sitting in an airport lounge waiting to catch and flight back to London.” He said, sounding a little annoyed.

“How was filming?”

“Good. Spent most of my time learning fight choreography.” He said, “I just called to ask what time you wanted me to come around tomorrow.”

“Whatever time you want.” I said lazily as I edged down into the warm water.

“It’ll probably be late morning.”

“Ok.” I sighed, the combination of the wine and the warm bath was making me sleepy. I was so tired that I forgot to be excited by the fact that I would be seeing him tomorrow, “Bring a book.” I told him.

“Why?”

“Because I want to finish mine before I have to pick Robb up. So how does sitting in the park reading sound like for a date?” I asked, suddenly nervous as to what he would think of such a boring and unexciting plan for a date.

“Sounds great.” He said and I believed him.

…

The next day we walked hand in hand through the park, finding a nice sunny spot before Richard spread out the blanket and I put down the basket holding our picnic lunch.

As he laid down on the blanket and grabbed out his book, War and Peace, I contemplated where I should position myself. Did I sit? Did I lay down next to him? What did I do?

Realizing something was wrong, Richard peered over the top of his book at me, “You alright?”

“Uh huh.” I said, I couldn’t possibly tell him my dilemma. I wanted to be close to him, but how did I go about doing that? Did I just do it? Did I ask? Did I slowly move closer over time? How the hell did people do this?!

“Why don’t you come lay down?” he asked as he patted the spot on the blanket next to him.

Deciding the best thing to do was to follow his lead, I laid down next to him as Richard wrapped his arm around me. I made to lay my head back on the blanket, but he pulled me closer to his side, so I rested my head against his chest as I opened up my book and began to read.

Even though we were not talking, or really doing anything, I was still quite enjoying myself. I liked the fact that we could do something as simple as reading together and it felt nice. It felt nice just to be with him. It felt nice to have his arm around me. By all appearances what we were doing was nothing special, but it was pretty special to me because of the simplicity of it. The normalcy and ease with which we were able to be with each other.

I wasn’t sure how long we sat there reading for, long enough for me to get to the end chapters of my book and start crying.

Richard looked up at me as I sat up to wipe my tears from my face.

“He died?” he guessed.

“Yeah.” I said as I wiped my tears, it was absolutely ridiculous that I should be so upset over and novel but it was just so sad! I forgot how completely caught up in the story I could get when I read a good book.

“You should watch the movie. Its pretty good.” He said simply as he ran his hand down my back before his arm fell limply down onto the blanket.

“There’s a movie?” I demanded, “God it would be even sadder than the book!”

He simply smiled, as he gazed up at me.

I smiled as I looked over my shoulder at him. I felt a strange rush of affection for him. The way he was just so happy to be with me, we didn’t even need to do anything, he just enjoyed my company and I enjoyed his. Strangely enough I realized I wanted to show him that. I wanted to show him just how much I cared for him.

Stealing myself to be brave, I leaned over and swiftly pressed my lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss. Pulling back to look at him as I hovered over him slightly I was glad to see that he was smiling.

“You just kissed me.” He stated as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“I did.” I smiled, feeling oddly proud of myself, “Can I do it again?”

“You really have to ask?”

I frowned, “Am I not supposed to ask?”

“Let me save you the trouble, I will never, ever, answer no to that question.” He said flatly.

Smiling happily, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his again as my hair fell around us, like a curtain shielding us from the world.

I heard Richard’s book fall to the side as he tangled his hands in my hair, tucking it behind my ear as he cupped my face tenderly. I pulled back to look at him but he didn’t let me get far, the tip of my nose brushing his as I smiled, a feeling of euphoria spreading through me as my chest pressed into his.

…

After lunch we went and picked Robb up before going home. Richard and Robb were playing in the lounge room when my mother rang.

“Hey, how was your first day in France?” I asked happily as I moved about the kitchen making Richard and myself a cup of tea.

“Good. Exhausting but good. The Eifel Tower smelled though. Your father complained the whole time.” She told me.

“I know. It smelt when we were there too.” I said as I finished making the tea, “Rich! Your tea is ready!” I called.

“Oh is Richard there?” asked my mother curiously.

“Yeah.” I replied when I heard my father mutter something indistinctly, “Is that dad?”

“Ah yes. He wanted to know if Richard stayed the night.” She said.

I frowned, “No.”

More indistinct talking from my father.

“Is he staying tonight?”

“No.”

“Oh ok. Good.” She said, sounding satisfied.

My eyes narrowed as I detected there was more behind their questions that simply knowing if Richard had spent the night, “Was that dad’s coy way of asking if we slept together?”

“No!” was my father’s immediate response. I knew I was right.

“We were just wondering how serious things were between you.” Soothed my mother, “that’s all.”

“They’re serious. Serious for me anyway.” I replied, without hesitation.

“What does she mean? Serious for her? What does that mean?” asked my father, did he think I couldn’t hear him?

“It means that we’re serious by my standards but not other peoples.” I explained, hoping that would make sense to them.

Truthfully it didn’t make that much sense to me, we had been dating just over a month and had only just kissed, so by all appearances, things weren’t that serious between us. But no one besides Richard knew how much trust had to build up between before I could even kiss him.

To me, trust was what made things serious and I trusted Richard, not only with my son but with little bits and pieces of myself. We didn’t need to be having sex or moving in together because that was what made other couples serious. We were serious in different ways and while I was often scared and a little unsure, things between us were progressing at a pace that I was comfortable with.

“Well that’s good. That’s good darling. We like Richard.” Said my mother happily.

I rolled my eyes, my parents would be the only parents in the world to be happy that their daughter was dating someone. Looking up I saw Richard come into the kitchen to get his mug of tea.

“Alright mum I have to go. Eat some snails for me.” I smiled.

“I’m not eating snails!” called my father.

I laughed as we said our goodbyes.

…

“It was an impulse buy.” Sighed James as he stood behind the counter counting the change in the till, “Both of us working two jobs, we’re feeling a little rich. So we decided to splurge.”

“You keep saying ‘we’ as if you and Craig went out and bought it together when really it was only you.” I said pointedly as I went about the shop watering the plants in the front room.

“Well, I used both of our money to buy it so it is still sort of a ‘we’ decision.” He explained, “Like I said, it was an impulse buy!”

“How does a hot tub count as an impulse buy?” I asked.

“You act as though you’ve never bought something impulsively.” He defended.

“I really haven’t.” I replied.

“Never? Theirs’s never been an overpriced pair of shoes or something you just fell in love with and brought?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Wow Mel. You’re like an eighty year-old trapped inside a twenty year-old.” He commented.

“Twenty-two.” I corrected as I continued to water the plants.

“Whatever.” He dismissed as he shut the till with a loud clang, “So do you and Rich want to come over and christen it with us this Saturday?”

“Who would watch Robb?” I questioned.

“We’ll stick him inside with a movie. You can see the lounge room from the backyard, he’ll be fine.” He explained.

I wasn’t normally the kind of parents that simply sat their child in front of the television for hours on end, but James was one of my best friends in London and I didn’t really have that many friends. Apart from James there was Beezus and Lily and that was pretty much it. I didn’t want to turn down a chance to hang out with him as I was painfully aware of how lacking I was in the friend’s department.

“Sure. I guess we can come over if Richard’s free.” I shrugged.

“Great. You got anyone else you want to invite?” he asked curiously.

“Ah… Kit and Bee?”

“I already invited them. Lily and Matt are busy. Anyone else you can think of?”

“Um…” I began thoughtfully, that pretty much summed up my friends in London.

“I’m just gonna go put some money in the safe. Be right back.” Called James as he skipped out of the front of the store and waltzed out the back, through the greenhouse where we kept the safe.

Sighing I finished watering the plants; was it a sad statement to realize my best friend was my son? He was who I spent all my time with after all. He was who I enjoyed hanging out with.

Suddenly the doorbell rang and I looked up to see a tall woman with the same coloured light brown-dirty blonde hair colour as me. She had a large chin and wide blue eyes. If I had to guess I thought she was a little older than me, perhaps twenty-five? She looked vaguely familiar and I wondered if she had been in the shop before.

“Hi,” I greeted as I placed the watering can down, “Can I help you?”

“Ah yeah, I was in here last week to buy some plants and um, well, I managed to kill them all.” She said, sounding a little sheepish.

“Oh dear.” I smiled, “What did you do to them?”

“Nothing. I just tried to plant them and they died.” She lamented,

I smiled, she seemed genuinely disappointed that she had in fact killed her plants, a feeling I could relate to, so I decided to help her, “Why don’t you tell me what kind of plants your looking for and I can give you some advice on how to care for them?” I offered.

“That would be great. Thankyou.” She smiled as we walked out the back to the greenhouse, “You sound Australian, are you from Australia?”

“I am actually.” I smiled.

“Me too.” She smiled.

“Really? You sound British.”

“I’ve been over here too long. Though I’m always surprised at how many Aussies are over here.” She observed.

“It’s very similar to Melbourne.” I commented, “And I think the Brits have a similar taste in food and stuff that we do.”

“That’s true.

“What kind of plants are you looking for?”

“Like lavender and roses. Stuff that smells good. I’m trying to sort of make a garden that looks and smells nice.” She explained, “Trying to make a good place for me to write.”

“You’re a writer?” I asked curiously.

“Yeah.”

“What do you write?”

“Scripts mostly. But I’ve written a few novels. Actually trying to write one now and its not going too well.” She sighed.

“Isn’t that called writers block?” I frowned.

“Yeah.”

“What kind of novel is it?”

“Romance. I think because I’ve won a few awards for my writing I’m just feeling the pressure.” She explained

“You know, I hear J.K Rowling had really bad writers block with the second Harry Potter novel.” I said conversationally.

“Yeah I’ve heard that too.”

“She said she got out of it by just creating a great place for her to write.” I told her.

“That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to create a nice outdoor space for me to write. With a nice garden.” She explained.

“That sounds nice.” I smiled.

“Yeah. This is actually the third time I’ve been in your shop. Every time I come in I buy some plants and I put them in the ground then they die.” She sighed.

Even though I didn’t know much about her, I found myself respecting the girl because even though she had killed all the plants she had brought previously, she was going back to try again. It occurred to me that I actually had a chance to make a new friend here if I was to put myself out there a little and try.

“Well, if you want, I could come over to your house and check out your soil and tell you what plants would grow best there.” I offered.

I wondered if my offer was a little too forward. Was it weird? Was this how people made friends? I was so out of practice; the last time I had tried to make friends I was in high school.

“Really?” she asked, sounding excited, “That would be great! Thank you so much.”

I smiled, feeling a little relieved, “I’m Melanie by the way.” I said, extending my hand for her to shake.

“Bree-Amber.” She said as she shook my hand, “But everyone calls me Bree.”

“Nice to meet you Bree.” I smiled.

#chapters #fanfiction #fanfic #real person fanfiction #begin again #Richard Madden #the fault in our stars #hot tub #romance

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niapeiris · 6 years ago

Text

It is going to rain

Toby

It is going to rain. The sun has eloped with the small amount of patience that I had left, off to a place far away, leaving me with nothing but troubles and rain. It is a matter of minutes. I watch the sky darken, the sea of black rippling above me, and I wait. And just before the first droplet connects with the ground, she runs into the restaurant. How typical of her. All disorganization and chaos but never lets it spill over the edge. I’ll never know how she does it. She sees me and casually walks over to the table, as though she isn’t half an hour late. But despite my annoyance and lack of patience, I stand and envelope her into a hug, because I know, that behind that picture-perfect smile and those glistening eyes, that half of her world just shattered into a million little pieces.

Lorrain

As soon as I see him a weight is lifted off my shoulders. He is ok. He is picking up the pieces, his hands covered in cuts and scars like mine, but he is putting them back together again. Last time he was too afraid, too broken. But this time I think he was prepared, he knew what was coming. I guess we all did. Seeing him reminds me that I can do this; I got through it when dad died, so I know that I will resurface again. But these fresh wounds are sore, and I know that even when they heal, their scars will always haunt me.

Toby

We sit in silence for a while. The food comes but I am not hungry. Lorrain doesn’t appear to be either. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Normally Lorrain will have made some sort of conversation by now, being her dazzling social self. But today it’s different.

Against all my natural instincts, I decide to break the silence. And the small talk begins. The usual “I might get a cuppa” and “how’s work”, “terrible weather today” and other British stereotypes to break through awkwardness. I like to cut to the chase. But it took me until the end of the meal to muster enough courage to bring up the dreaded subject.

“How are you coping Lorrain?”

She does not respond seemingly engrossed in the delicious steak on her plate. The steak which she would not touch a few seconds ago.

“It’s getting better,” she says, “What about you?” “I am sorry I didn’t come to mum's funeral. I wasn’t as close to her as you were but now both of them are gone.” “So you shut yourself away from the rest of the world again?”

I don’t respond because I know that it is true. We don’t talk until the bill has come and gone and we are getting ready to face the torrential downpour outside.

“Any plans after this?” she says knowing I don’t but asking anyway.

“No, you?” “Not today. I can walk with you to the station,” she offers. She lives around here, in the heart of London. I prefer calm and convenient, a pair that rarely comes together. So I live in the outskirts.

As we walk, Lorrain gets a phone-call.

“Hello, Lorrain Martins speaking --- How did you get this number? --- The lab gave it to you? --- Ok then --- oh? --- But that is in Turkey? --- It isn’t uncommon --- I’m not sure --- Things have been a bit hectic at the moment --- I guess I could use the distraction --- ok --- I’ll be there at 11am tomorrow --- yep --- no worries --- bye!”

I knew that it wasn’t right that she didn’t have any plans. But of course, now she is going to Turkey, presumably flying out at around 2am on the last plane that will get her there for 11.

“You’re going to Turkey!” I say in such a forced, unenthusiastic voice that I wonder if it even came from me.

“And you are coming too!”

“Um, no. I have work to do!” I respond. There is so much to be done as I haven’t been in since mum died.

“It’s not as though you are actually going to go to work for another week. I know what you are like Toby Martins, and I don’t need your excuses.” I don’t reply because I know that she is right. Again. Despite my greatest efforts I won’t be able to drag myself to the office for a while. But still, I am NOT going to Turkey

Lorrain

I am so glad that Toby came along. He could really use the distraction. So could I. An air-hostess walks down the aisle offering refreshments. Toby is in the outer seat, the one next to the aisle and is in a place between awake and asleep – 2am flights aren’t his thing.

I tried to explain to Toby what the trip is about, but he was too stressed about almost missing the flight. So far I have been regarding it as an escape, to get my mind of things. But now that I think about it, I find myself wanted more than a getaway. A refugee camp. Each night a new corpse found. Each corpse covered in a black gooey liquid. I want to know why. I want to solve this. Stop this.

It was all a blur after that. The past few hours were made up of me puzzling over the possible reasons behind this case. Toby seemed very uninterested and soon grew irritated as I was reciting these theories aloud. Being his little sister it is my duty to wind him up, no matter how old we get.

But now we are in a taxi and we are sitting in silence because we can see it. The rows of huts and tents. The dirt track roads crawling with foxes and rodents. The people. It is a graveyard for the living. Refuge from the past but a horror in the present. After parking, we are shown to another part of the camp, the part where the managers and staff live. It is solely made up of a tall tower, littered by windows, topped with a cylindrical level, presumably a look out point over the camp. As we are led inside the tower, it appears that all the windows are the rooms for the staff, quite like a hotel but far from it. A tall, Aryan featured man appears to be scolding two other workers. He looks up at us and smiles with blinding white teeth and comes over. He introduces himself as camp manager Asil Orun, the man who rang me and asked that I would come. He seems very out of place; a man of such features should not correspond with refugees, or so society implies. He leads us through to a room on the ground floor, taking care to hold the door politely for me and taking even more care to let it swing in Toby’s face. There he explains more about the case. I glance over at Toby, who is sitting next to me with glazed over eyes and pursed lips; a sure sign that he has more than a few things to say to Asil. After we have been briefed, we are escorted up to the topmost floor where our room is.

Toby

I don’t like him. And it isn’t just that he has taken an inane interest in Lorrain, but it seems that there is more to him than what meets the eye. I don’t trust him, something about him isn’t right. But I just can’t put my finger on what it is.

But now I must return to the moment because we are walking into the other side of the camp – the refugee side. I smell them judging me, I wince as they stagger away, afraid. Lorrain isn’t comfortable either. I look at them, bony and mistreated, wondering the terror of what they must have fled to call this place a “sanctuary”. We stop outside one of the shacks and Asil shows us in. As we enter the shade of the place, my eyes grow accustomed to the light. And there it is lying on the bed, gender indistinguishable due to its front being covered in a sticky substance. Lorrain steps closer to the body. She looks it up and down and then opens her briefcase and lays it on the floor. She gets a wooden stick and takes a sample of the substance covering the body. Lorrain investigates the sludge, mixing it with various liquids. Hours pass as she examines the body, prodding and poking, testing and what-not, while Asil and myself sit intently around her.

“Toby. Toby wake up.” I feel warm air hiss into my ear as I fight to open my eyes. I must have fallen asleep. I look around. It is night time and the shanty is empty, spare Lorrain, her briefcase, a body bag and myself. No sign of Asil. Lorrain helps me up. I check my watch. It is almost midnight. We leave the cabin and walk towards the tower, leaving the body bag behind.

“What did you find?” I ask, still drowsy.

“Various bits and pieces that don’t fit together at all.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I am now certain that the gunk covering the body was in fact blood.”

“Blood? It was too dark to be blood. Black almost.”

“I am sure that it was blood – it had the correct reading and concurred with all of the tests. But very few things could turn blood so tar-like.”

“I assume that she coughed it up?” I say.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I am not sure, there is a small incision at the back of her throat, where I initially suspected that the blood had come from, but it is nowhere near large enough for all of it to have come gushing out of. But I don’t think the cut is significant.”

“I see. Did you learn anything else?”

“Yes, I also discovered something, the faintest of traces but it proves to be both vital to the case and thrilling at the same time.”

“And what, may I ask, is this insight?”

“There were traces of poison in her blood.”

Lorrain

It is only 8am in the morning but we are already out and investigating another body. Asil found it quite far away from the body I looked at yesterday. Whatever is happening to them isn’t contagious. I look down at the body. At first glance I presumed that it was a replica of the first, the same liquid covering the body, the same incision in the throat. But now I see that the substance is indeed redder so presumably healthier than the first; the incision in the throat is much smaller and the traces of the poison I found yesterday are gone. I run the same tests again, inspecting the body for any more clues. Toby is slumped in a corner, half-asleep. I don’t think that this trip is very interesting for him, but he is definitely getting more sleep than he would have at home.

It is raining. And the fact that the roof of the hut is poorly-thatched does not help. I watch the body as it rests idly on the floor. It was a boy this time. A young boy around the age of 6. It broke me when I saw him lying there, helpless as the world turned away from him, time and time again. Toby just glazed over.

After a while of examining I find something else in his blood. After digging into it I discover that it also seems to be poison. A different one to the one I saw yesterday. Some sort related to the digitalis genus. I asked Asil to question the food producers of the camp and I haven’t seen him since. I don't know much about poisons, being a forensic pathologist, but I know that there is no connection between Digitalis poison and blood disease. No, Digitalis is commonly used as a medicine for heart deficiency. I have come across many cases when one has overdosed on the drug which has led to heart failure. Heart failure. The person could have died from heart failure. But how would they have had access to the pharmaceutical in a refugee camp?

“I can hear your brain churning from over here,” Toby startles me. I thought he was asleep.

“I think I am onto something,”

“And what does figuring it out involve?”

“Cutting open the boy’s heart.”

Toby

I am trying to sleep but the sounds don’t help. The slicing and squelching. But I hear another noise, footsteps. Of course, the camp is littered with people, so I am bound to hear footsteps. But the refugees tread carefully, quietly, not wanting to be noticed or even to exist at all. These footsteps are different. Loud. Purposeful. And as they draw closer, I hear that there is in fact two sets of footsteps.

Two men enter the shack. One is Asil but that does not make me feel any more settled. Asil introduces the man beside as the caterer of the camp, Yusuf. I study the man. He is muscular, tall and wears a dirty apron around his waist, as if to back the fact that he is the food chief. He exchanges greetings with Lorrain and myself and then goes on to talk about the food that he produces. He claims that the main component of the refugee’s diets is broad-leaf plantain due to its accessibility and low price. They eat it with a small portion of rice once a day, twice if they are lucky. He seems sincere, unlike Asil who stands there, smiling nervously while he talks. Lorrain is deep in thought. She has already examined the heart and has exclaimed continuously that the boy had died of heart failure. Quite a few times I had splash water on her face or tug her hair to get her to stop thinking and tell me her thoughts. But I have just realised that I know something that I need to tell her. And I need to tell her soon before her brain explodes from over-thinking, because this case might just be easier than she thinks.

Soon Asil dismisses the man, but he himself stays with us. He claims that the man is a new employee. He says that Yusuf has proved to be reliable and moral, and that he wouldn’t doubt him at all if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t known him for long, thus hasn’t enough time to figure out Yusuf and see if his outward friendly behavior is just a mask. Funny. That was exactly what I was thinking but about Asil.

Asil then leaves. Lorrain and I sit there in silence while I think about the best way to phrase what I am about to say.

“Lorrain I have something to tell you.”

“Mmm.”

“Lorrain stop thinking and listen,”. She looks up from the body and at me.

“Sorry,” she says.

“Broad-leaf plantain. The most eaten food in this camp.”

“Yes.”

“While you were talking, I got out my laptop and did a little research myself,” “Oh wow you actually helped!” she says playfully.

“I am serious. I found something. Broad-leaf plantain shares the same genus as the so-called poison that you discovered today. It is a Digitalis plant,”. She sits there for a few moments and processes what I just told her.

“So there might in fact be no poison, no murderer, and the genus I have found is just from the food.”

“They might have been fed some faulty or highly concentrated leaves by accident which has led to this.”

She looks plainly disappointed. It was clear that this case excited and intrigued her, but the most logical answer does not seem to satisfy that. I stand up to go back to the room. She doesn’t say anything so I know that she will stay and look into what I said, still doubting and eager to prove me wrong; that she may still have a case yet to follow. I had best leave her to it.

I leave the tent silently. And as I creak my way to the exit, I hear thumping footsteps running. Running away. I look outside quickly but everything appears to be normal. Or as normal as it gets in a refugee camp. It could have been anyone. I continue back to the room.

Toby

I wake up to the breaking of glass. I sit up abruptly and look around. My eyes are blinded by the sudden exposure to the light and I can barely make out anything. At first, I think that I am alone in the room but I hear shuffling coming from the toilet. I quietly make my way there. I push open the door with a shaking hand and find … Lorrain. I let out a sigh of relief. Lorrain is scrambling on the floor trying to recover bits of glass that she has broken when she dropped what used to be some sort of measuring utensil. After helping her clear up and exclaiming that she cannot scare me like that, I go back to me beside table and check the time. 7:00am. I should get ready. I tell Lorrain to hurry up in the bathroom and use the time while I wait, to go back to sleep.

Lorrain

Yesterday was disappointing. I was really interested in the case. I thought that maybe this one time it might not just be some sort of illness, maybe something mysterious or unexplainable. Oh well. At least we have a pretty certain cause behind this. We’ll be able to stop more of these deaths. That’s the boring truth. I went back to the first body to run some tests and to look into the poison that I discovered on the first day. However the body wasn’t there. It was at that point I just gave up and went back to the room.

We are sitting inside another shack. It was a girl this time, thirteen years old. Her situation is identical to the boy’s. I have utilised the past few hours back up this new theory. I have run many tests and the reason behind this appears to be the result of a parasitic broad-leaf plantain. Nothing more.

Toby stands up. He is growing impatient. He thinks that we should be home by now – the reason behind this case being obvious. He leaves the tent stating that he is going back to the room. There is no arguing with him when he chooses to be assertive, which is very rarely I might add.

Toby

As I walk back to the room I see Asil walking towards me. He smiles as he walks past and I force an imitation of the notion. After I am about a dozen metres away, I turn to see if he has gone into the tent that Lorrain is in. I would never leave her alone with him. But he walks past the tent and carries along done the dirt track. I look at where his footsteps have met the mud. And there I see it, a white letter on the floor not far from Lorrain’s tent. I pick up the letter, debate showing Lorrain or giving it back to Asil, but then decide that I will take it up to the room and read it. Maybe it will tell me something about Asil, maybe clue me to the reason that he seems so untrustworthy. But here is not the place to exploit potential secrets so I pocket the envelope and head to the tower.

Once safely inside, I pull out the letter and turn it over. There are no markings on the envelope, so I proceed to open it carefully. Inside is an equally as white piece of paper with all but a few sentences on it:

04/04/2018

That is good to hear. Use the same ratio this time. It seems to be leading her in the wrong direction – this is good. Give her two more and then eliminate. Burn this when you have read it.

The first thing I concur is that there is something going on, something desired secret. My brain runs through the list of things that this message could be a reference to. Some key words dance around me displaying secrets just out of reach. When would a ratio be used in this camp? What is leading who in the wrong direction? Why must this be kept behind closed doors? I puzzle over it for a half hour until I realise that I had been over-looking the smallest and most significant detail. Her. Leading her in the wrong direction. Over the past two days I have only seen male staff around the camp. I presumed that women were not employed due to the lack of safety here. In fact, the only woman that I have seen, who was not a refugee, was Lorrain. With that in mind I read the message again.

A theory develops in my mind – Asil is behind this. The ratio must be something to do with the Digitalis genus. This case isn’t over, it wasn’t caused by any plant malfunction. But pieces of my puzzle are still missing – what is the wrong direction. What does it mean give her two more? Two more what?

Bodies.

And suddenly a chill runs down my back. Eliminate? This message was sent last night. Two more bodies. So that was one last night and one more tonight. Then eliminate. We need to get away from this place. Fast. I throw all my belongings into my rucksack, do the same with Lorrain's stuff, pocket the letter and dash out of the room. I don’t know for sure if the letter meant what I thought that it did. But either way. Eliminate still means to kill.

I run to the tent of the dead girl where Lorrain was, but to my utmost horror she is not there. I find her briefcase and the body instead. I look around hoping that she has left a note; that she has just gone to the toilet, but I realise that she wouldn’t have left a note because as far as she knows, I am just lazing around in the hotel room. I run out of the tent and right into Lorrain.

“Lorrain!” I can’t do anything but hug her tight. I was so scared for her.

“I have found something -” I cut her off.

“Never mind that. We have to get out of this place. I don’t know what is going on but we, you especially, are in great danger.”

“Wha-,”

“I found a note lying on the floor that Asil dropped. It was addressed to him from someone titled “M”. Here read it. I thrust the letter into her hands while she looks at me like I am mad.

“It think it is about you.” I whisper in her ear as she reads through it. Her eyes open wide as she scrambles to read it again.

“I was right,” I hear her whisper under her breath.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to come with me. It isn’t far from the tents down the far end,” she starts packing up her briefcase.

“What?! We need to get out of here. Do you not understand what the letter meant?”

“I do. But I need to show you something. With what you have just showed me and what I have just discovered, I think we are very close to solving this case,” “Never mind the case. Do you not understand what eliminate means?”

“You need to calm down Toby.” “DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. DAD IS DEAD AND I JUST LOST MUM. I CAN’T LOSE YOU TOO!” I yell. She stops. I never yell. I never get mad. But I am scared.

“Toby. I -”

“I didn’t mean to shout,” “I am sorry,”. Neither of us speaks until she has fully packed up her things. In a hushed voice she talks.

“Toby. I understand what you are saying. But listen. We have a chance to save lives, not just examine their dead bodies. As you say – we have to play this carefully. I need you to come with me now,” I nod my head and follow after her, exhausted by my outburst.

We walk through the stitches of the camp to the very borders where the tents begin to fray away. Soon we have left it all behind. It appears that we are just walking in the green. But in the distance I see a change of scenery. A change of colour. I see purple. And as we draw closer that purple begins to take form. Low to the ground but hundreds of them. Plants. Flowers. And soon I realise why Lorrain was so keen on showing me this. For this, this is a field of foxgloves.

Lorrain

I look at Toby’s face as he takes it all in, watch his face calculating and concluding.

“Foxgloves. Foxglove poison. Heart failure.”

“Yes,” I respond.

“It is of the same genus that you found in the body. The broad-leaf plantain fiasco was the “wrong direction” mentioned in the message. It was just a cover-up,”.

“Yes.”

“Asil. I knew that I didn’t trust him. We need to take this to the police.” I say, even more frightened than before. But I can’t let it break the surface. I need to be like Lorrain.

“No. We need evidence first. Whoever Asil is working for has to be high up if they can afford this,” I say gesturing to the foxgloves. “They will be able to wriggle their way out of our grip unless there is hard proof,”

“Tonight we will follow him. Record it all. Then we will show it to them,”.

“Agreed” I respond. We make our way back to the camp. We have a theory, the best that we have yet. But there are still some holes in it. We think that Asil is behind this. That he is feeding these refugees foxglove poison (the digitalis genus that I found) and framing it as a broad-leaf plantain parasite. But we don’t know why or how. And that is what we will find out tonight.

Lorrain

It is late. Now around 10:30pm. We are closely huddled together, Toby and I, in a failed attempt to fight off the cold. We sit silently by the exit of the tower, waiting and watching. But mostly listening. I never thought that it could be so quiet in a refugee camp. And though the world seems to sleep, I somehow hear more than ever before. The wind; a ribbon wrapping around the place. In the day-time it was like a whip – clacking and striking in a furious rage. But now it flows gently, whispering dreams of grandeur to the hopeless refugees who lie asleep. I hear the soft pattering paws of animals. The gentle singing of lullabies in a foreign dialect. So quiet.

But then I hear something else. Footsteps. Coming from the tower. Treading carefully, as though the outing is desired secret. And soon we see the slender figure of Asil fall into the night. He carries what appears to be a small briefcase in his hand. We follow him, quite far behind. Every corner he turns he checks behind him in a cautious, guilty way, and we have to dart to some bushes or round the back of a favela. We follow him for a while as he seems to randomly sneak through the paths.

However, when we enter a different part of the camp that we haven’t seen, he begins to peek in and out of the tents as if looking for something. Or someone. After a while of this hide and seek, he enters a wooden shack and does not come out of it for a few minutes. We tread closer and peer through the cracks of the structure to see what he is doing and I get my camera out and start recording.

Toby

It is going to rain. The moon has fled with all of the courage that I had left, off to a place faraway, leaving with nothing but rain-clouds and fear. It is a matter of minutes. I sense the sky darken, a sea of black rippling through me and I watch. It is the most unsettling thing, not watching Asil, but the fear that we ourselves are being watched. We see as he opens his briefcase with the light of a small lantern. It is lined with test tubes full of various substances topped with a cork aside some surgery-like tools. He pulls out a pipette and proceeds to transfer some of the test tube substances into it.

Use the same ratio this time.

It fits again with the letter. When he decides that the pipette is full, he pulls a thin, razor tipped utensil from his case. He then tilts the chin of the refugee backwards and we rush to stifle a gasp as he opens the person’s mouth, trying to do so without out waking them up. However half-way during this process the victim awakes and starts to struggle. They fight silently, Asil with a look of fire in his eyes, pinning what is now revealed to be a man of Toby’s age down and opening the man’s mouth. We watch in utter horror, both of us jerking to stop this atrocity but pulling each other back knowing what the consequences may be. Asil gets a window of opportunity and he takes it, moving the razor into the man’s throat, feeling around and making a cut. The man is now flitting in and out of consciousness. And then Asil takes the pipette and squeezes it into what we imagine is the incision. The man does not move, in a deep sleep he won’t wake up from.

Asil puts out the lantern. We stare in lament at the poor man. Thousands of thoughts run through my head. Now that we have this on tape we can stop this from happening to other people. We did the right thing, even if it did involve letting one go for the good of others. But I can’t help but feel guilty for just watching. And as I look at the body with tears in my eyes, I forget about anything else. And so does Lorrain. And we stand there. Still. Warring with ourselves. Until we see a flash of fire from the entrance of the shack. And as we turn abruptly we become face to face with it and freeze. For even without the light of the lantern we can see it screaming at as from those eyes I thought were blue. And we run.

Lorrain

Run. The only word that pops into my mind. And I do. Toby follows close behind. Asil is getting closer. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not only did he see the camera, but he also saw us. And at this moment, losing the camera or the video does not bother me. But he can’t get rid of what we saw.

Unless he gets rid of us.

We push onwards. Toby tries to alert the refugees and to get them to help but I stop him. We don’t know who else is on Asil’s side, and we don’t need more people hunting us down. Soon I begin to gain my bearings – we are getting closer to the tower. I know where we are. It should be any minute now. We take a tight turn and I pivot, hauling Toby and myself into a staff-cabin. It is empty. We dash away from the door and to the window and look for Asil. We hear his footsteps slow down as he decides whether to turn or not. Then he stops altogether. The sound of silence rings through my ears. And I realise that it must ring though Asil’s too. He won’t hear our footsteps because we have stopped. And now he knows that. We hear him walk slowly towards us. We are going to get caught. He is going to ki-.

No.

I won’t let that happen. Think Lorrain. Think. I risk a glance through the window. Asil is walking in a circle looking at the huts and cabins surrounding him, wondering where we are. I need to play this carefully. I reach up to the window. It is fastened shut with a latch. I carefully undo it and at once the wind creaks the window open a fraction. I hear Asil’s steps coming towards us and feel Toby’s fear and outrage. The footsteps are right behind the window now. And just when he is about to peer inside, I jump up and smash the window with my fist. The glass goes flying into his arm. He falls down, groping it as we run back to the tower.

Toby

I shook hands with death that night. I was terrified. I don’t think that I will ever feel safe again. After we had reached the tower Lorrain passed out. I had to make the calls, tell the information, get the police. We solved the case. But hearing it being said aloud repeatedly does not help.

“So you admit to being the person behind the murder of the refugees at your own camp?” an inspector queries for the umpteenth time.

“Yes” Asil replies. His eyes are grey. No mask of blue. No anger or fire. Nothing.

After hours and hours of sitting there, listening to him give dismissive, brief answers, he has finally admitted it. The man behind it all. Or so it seems.

“I invite Ms Lorrain Martins to describe her opinion of the happenings, and then the convict will consolidate her statement, if he wishes to.”

“The way that he killed the refugees was using a poison. Foxglove poison. He would make a small incision in the back of the victim’s throat and squeeze the poison into there. Once the poison was inside the victim, they had minutes to live. He would then leave the body there and the next morning, would claim to have found the body in such a state.”

“Thank you. And do you admit to this Asil?” “Yes” “Ms Martins, you previously mentioned that he worked closely on the case with you. Would you care to reiterate it so that we may add it to an official document?” “Yes. He contacted me some days ago via phone call, saying that random refugees at his camp were dying for no apparent reason. He wanted my help. My brother and I flew to Turkey. He was with us most of the time, listening to my theories. Now that I think about it. I can assume that you were also listening to Toby and my self's private conversations. But why Asil? Why?” Asil sits there for a few minutes. Opening his mouth and closing it. Deciding what to say and whether to say it or not. No-one dare moves, scared they will stop him from opening up.

“I had to wipe out the entire refugee camp. I had to kill them all and frame it as something else, some natural cause. But I didn’t want to release this poison only to find that is could easily be tracked and identified. No. That is where you helped Lorrain. They wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for you. Each time you would say what you found. So I would fix those areas and use a different ratio. Until I got it perfectly balanced and you didn’t think that there was a poison at all. And if I could bluff you, I knew that I could bluff the rest of the world.”

We all sit in silence, thinking hard. Understanding. It is ingenious really. But why would he want to kill all of these people? “Why?” I say, startled at myself for speaking up.

Asil just smiles.

Lorrain

Weeks have passed since the refugee camp ordeal. Not long after Asil’s confession, a Turkish politician was arrested and thrown into jail. Apparently, he was the one who was funding it and who was in charge. He wanted to free Turkey from refugees for economic and racist purposes. Toby and I have been spending more time together since. We have cleared out Mum’s house. It is going to be hard to leave behind, whenever it is sold. It is going to be hard to leave the memories of the case behind, whenever it blows over. Right now, I am studying the poison at work. We know that foxglove was in it but there were other components that we can’t identify. And we still do not know where the black blood came from. I am scrolling through some data a co-worker has emailed me, not really reading through it.

Suddenly I hear a shout from the lab next door. Then whoever is working in there calls for me. I swiftly move through the door to see what that commotion is about. My colleague is there looking ecstatic to say the least. She shows me a piece of paper from a freshly opened letter and I read it. And then I understand my co-worker's excitement. We have solved the case. And I ring up Toby.

“Toby?”

“Hi Lorrain. How are you?” “Toby you’ll never guess what I just found out.”

“What is it?” “So you know we still don’t know why the refugees were covered in blood, right?” “Yes …"

“Well now some results have come back. It was so obvious Toby, I don’t know how we didn’t get it. What few things cause vomiting of black blood?” “Lorrain you know I don’t know these things.”

“I was right at the very start. Remember when I found that poison in the very first body. Not the foxglove one but the other one. The faintest of traces?”

“Yes”

“It was arsenic Toby. It was arsenic.”

His confirmations and excitement poured through the line but I am not really listening. Instead, I am looking outside, through the window, and the heavy clouds gathering above. It is going to rain.

By Nia Peiris

14/02/2019

0 notes

stcrytcllerxinspo · 6 years ago

Text

When you let those blue eyes turn grey I took it personal When you took my hero away I took it personal Now you're not here when I say I took it personal I took it personal Now every night

I scream at your ghost When I miss you the most I'll lace up my armour and fight for us both Finish what you started and crown your stone (I'll crown your stone) Maybe I could let go, let go, let go (maybe) Maybe I could let go, let go, let go (Never let go)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, MURDER, DEATH, GRIEF

With pale blue eyes focused on the large animal in front of him, Devon reached out with a weak hand and let his fingers brush over the back and white fur on Sunny’s neck. In the two weeks since Jade’s funeral, Devon had gone to visit the horse on almost a daily basis, usually late at night, when Alyssa was asleep along with his mum and sister, who had been staying with him ever since. Visits with his wife’s giant, furry friend had been serving as a source of comfort in a time during which he often found even waking up to be difficult.

“Hey, Sunny girl.” He murmured softly, kissing her nose. Sunny made a soft noise and nudged him, to which he responded with a weak smile as he unlocked her stall door and walked in, shutting it behind him. “Miss me since last night?”

Sunny made her noise again as she carefully watched him, stepping a little closer and nudging his back. Something told him that she was just as heartbroken as he was, as if she somehow knew that Jade was gone forever. He’d always believed that animals could sense these things.

“I cleaned your stall yesterday.” He turned to her. “I guess I don’t need to do it again, yeah?”

She nickered at him and let him gently rub her neck, and she continued to watch him even as he sat down on a bale of hay. He was so weighed down with emotion these days that it physically tired him out. He couldn’t rest during the day, however, as he had a daughter to care for and he also had work six days out of the week. There was no time for resting.

“Remember when you and Jade took me for a ride for the first time?” He reached into a plastic bag and took out a handful of oats, holding his open hand to Sunny. “I was a bit scared of you, wasn’t I?”

“This is 1,000 pounds of death and destruction!”

“You’re being dramatic.” Jade said with a playful roll of her eyes, taking notice of the death grip that Devon had on the reigns. For years, he had steered clear of getting on a horse, but when Christmas rolled around, he decided to surprise his wife and attempt to get over his fear by joining her for a ride. Now, though, he was wondering if he should be regretting the decision.

“Dramatic? Babe, what if she gets spooked and takes off running?! And you had a baby last month, so should you even be—”

“Dev, calm down!” Jade giggled as she leaned back against him, sliding her hands up the reigns until they were resting over his. The action did bring him some comfort, but he was still afraid of being thrown off. It wasn’t like that had never happened before. “Look, she’s harmless. Aren’t you, Snugglebutt?”

Devon’s nervous look became incredulous because did his wife seriously just call her horse Snugglebutt? That was a nickname one might give to a dog or cat, not a freakin’ horse? Could you even snuggle a horse? Wouldn’t anyone get crushed if they tried that? He knew that Sunny was her second baby, next to Alyssa, but honestly, what the hell.

“Love, no offense, but this is not a Snugglebutt!”

“I beg to differ.” Jade retorted as she rubbed his hands. Devon pressed his face against her shoulder and let out a soft groan. “What? She lays down and I snuggle her! It’s easy, babe.”

“Yeah right.”

“Well? It’s true!” “Whatever you say.”

“Yep.” There was amusement in Jade’s voice as she pulled on the reigns, bringing Sunny to a stop in front of the lake. She leaned back so she could look at her husband, one hand going from the reigns to his knee. Devon wrapped his arms around her, only to frantically grab the reigns again when Sunny moved. It was only a small movement, but still enough to startle him, and for whatever reason, it made Jade laugh. “You’re still scared, huh?”

“Yeah, a lil bit.” He gulped.

“Okay, let’s take a break.” She giggled as they got off the horse, patting the creature’s neck. Sunny neighed at the young couple and Jade kissed her nose before leading her over to the fence and tying her halter safely but comfortably. Then Jade was back at Devon’s side, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him. “What do you wanna do now?”

“This.” Devon answered simply before lifting her into his arms and kissing her with loving passion, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She squealed as he spun her around, holding on tight. He laughed at her cute reactions, planting kisses all over her face.

“Dev!” She squeaked. She clung to him as tightly as she could, crinkling her nose as she looked away from her and within seconds, he sat her back down, chuckling. Sunny sounded off in the background, almost as if expressing approval of them. Jade looked up at her husband with a big smile, standing on her tip-toes to give him a soft and loving kiss.

“I thought you were gonna flip out and throw me off.” Devon chuckled softly, with tears already welling up in his eyes, which had heavy bags underneath from lack of sleep. Sunny seemed to notice that something was wrong with him, once again nudging him. He tried to choke back the tears, because he truly was tired of crying all the time. He’d cried himself to sleep every night since Jade’s death. He honestly didn’t know how he was gonna live without her. He didn’t want to live without her.

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to imagine a world without her. We had so many plans, y’know? We eventually wanted to buy some land and build a home of our own. We wanted to try for another baby. I eventually wanted to take her on a trip to London. She’d never been there, but she wanted to change that soon.” He wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. “Shit, we were gonna grow old together.”

He stood up and touched the horse once more before stepping out of the stall and locking it back up. Then he stepped outside and headed for the walking trail, as he attempted (and failed) to keep his emotions under control.

“Do you ever think about the future? I don’t mean like…college plans or your dream wedding, but like…how short life is?”

The question came out of nowhere as they walked down the trail, having ditched their wedding reception to have some alone time on their first night as a married couple. Jade was walking hand-in-hand with her new husband, her green eyes focused on the starry night sky, the light breeze brushing over her face. She seemed to be deep in thought, her mind anywhere but in the moment.

Devon frowned, giving her hand a squeeze. “Why?”

In response, Jade shrugged, looking up at him with a tiny smile. “I don’t know. We think we have all the time in the world, but then I see all the tragedy out there. Sometimes we may think we have plenty of time to live, but we don’t really know when our time is up. I just…I don’t want to miss out on anything.” She placed a hand lovingly on her small but noticeable baby bump, letting her head rest against Devon’s bicep as they walked together.

“Yeah, I get that.” He admitted, giving a kiss to her head. “I try not to think about it, though. Like you said, life is short. So I try not to focus much on when I’m going to die. Living’s so much better, yeah?”

“Much better.” Jade grinned. Together they approached the pier overlooking the lake, with Devon placing his hands protectively on her sides to keep her from falling, then moved them until they were cupping her bump. “And I want our baby to see that too.”

“Is that a yes to me taking the kid skydiving?”

“No.” Jade answered before turning around and hugging his waist. With one hand on her back, he used his other hand to push a strand of hair from her face before he kissed her forehead. She stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his, giggling softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” Devon grinned against her lips, kissing her once more.

“No way.”

“Yep.”

“Dev!”

“It’s true and you know it!”

And so their laughter filled the air. In that moment, there was nothing that could take their happiness away.

Before Devon knew it, he was standing on that pier, staring out into the water, the moon illuminating it. He could see his reflection and just how tired and weak he truly looked. But nothing mattered to him right now, especially not his appearance. For a moment, he actually contemplated jumping into the water and drowning.

But he couldn’t do that to their daughter. Alyssa had already lost one parent and there was no way that Devon was going to allow her to lose him, even if he had lost himself.

He sat down on the pier as sobs threatened to escape, combing his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how he was going to survive this. He wasn’t sure how he could handle the pain. It all seemed like so much more than he could handle.

“Okay, honey, just one more big push, okay?”

Cries filled the delivery room as Jade squeezed Devon’s hand, which he was sure she was going to end up breaking. But mostly, he just wanted to ease her pain. He couldn’t stand to see Jade hurting, even though the end result was going to be a good one.

“Dev, I can’t do it.” Jade cried as she collapsed against the pillows, her chest heaving as sweat dripped down her face. “I can’t—”

Immediately Devon cupped his hand over her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “Love, look at me. You spent nine months growing this baby and now she wants to see you, and I know you want to see her and hold her. You have been so damn strong and you cannot give up now, okay?” He kissed her forehead. “So I need you to breathe and you need to push as hard as you can so we can hold our baby girl. Okay? Come on, love. You can do it.” He put his free arm behind her back and helped her sit up, nodding at the doctor. “Come on, beautiful. Just one more and you’ll be a mum.” Jade nodded and took a deep breath, then pushed while the doctor counted to ten.

“One, two, three, four…”

“You’re doing so well, babe.” Devon encouraged, rubbing her back.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

“Almost there!” Devon grinned as he kissed her cheek.

“Nine, ten!”

A cry filled the room and Jade collapsed back against the pillows, breathing heavily and crying tears of joy this time. And once the umbilical cord had been cut, Alyssa Devonne Prescott was wrapped in a blanket and placed in her mother’s arms. Jade’s fingers lightly brushed over the baby girl’s cheek, as if to check and see if she was real.

“There’s our princess.” Devon whispered, tears filling his own eyes as little Alyssa grabbed his finger. “We’re so happy to see you, baby girl.”

With his knees pulled to his chest, Devon no longer could keep the sobs in, finally allowing himself to break down for what seemed like the millionth time in the past two weeks. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He wanted to wake up to Jade laying beside him or making him breakfast or playing with Alyssa. Her home was supposed to be with them, not a cemetery. He had been refusing to believe that this was real, but deep down, he knew that she was never coming back.

In the hours before it happened, they had been so damn oblivious. They dropped Alyssa off at his mum’s house, then they went to the library so Devon could work and Jade could browse through books and the internet. He could never forget sitting at the front desk and them exchanging flirtatious smiles. They had gone to their favorite Italian restaurant for his lunch break. In many ways, the day had been perfect. If only it hadn’t ended on such a horrific note….

It had happened in an instant. One minute every customer was on the ground, fearing for their lives. The next minute, a life was being taken. Devon had thought he and Jade could sneak out of their when the armed man in black wasn’t looking, but as soon as they started sneaking towards the back door, the bastard fired his weapon. A single bullet hit Jade, sending her to the ground.

“Jade, no!” Devon dropped to his knees beside his struggling wife, who was gasping for air as she laid bleeding on the ground. Crimson had begun to soak the back of her jacket and her skin was beginning to lose its color. “No, babe, no. You gotta hang on, okay?”

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t hanging on. She was beginning to lose her grip on life. As Devon felt her wrist for a pulse, he could feel it becoming weaker and weaker. In a panic, he pulled his hoodie off and pressed it to her back, trying to keep as calm as he could. But as she began to fade away, it became harder to stay calm.

The man in black had bolted out the door, but Devon’s focus was entirely on trying to keep Jade alive. “Love, I need you to stay with me. Please.” He cried as he pressed his jacket against her wound. His jeans and his long-sleeved white shirt were becoming soaked with blood: Jade’s blood. When he saw that her eyes were almost completely closed, he frantically shook his head and placed his hand over her cheek. “Jade, open your eyes. Open your eyes, please!”

He could have sworn that he heard someone say that an ambulance was on its way. But what good would that ambulance do now? Because just as the person spoke, Devon felt Jade take her final breath, and he cried as he held her close, the bloodied jacket falling from his hand. Sure enough, he didn’t feel a single heartbeat in her chest. She was gone. He knew she was.

“No…God, please no…” He sobbed, pressing his face against her shoulder. And so his real nightmare began.

“Devon?”

The minute he heard his aunt’s voice behind him, he was quick to wipe his tears away. He could allow anyone to see him cry anymore. Jade had always talked about how strong he was, dealing with his dad leaving and helping his mum to raise his sister. So he had to be strong, right? He had to live up to what Jade saw in him. In his mind, that meant that he needed to stop crying and get on with life.

“Your mum called and said that she was worried about you. Apparently you’ve been out here for a while.” Marley said as she kneeled behind him, her hand on his shoulder. His uncle had already gone back to Boca Raton with his cousins, except for Alex, who had returned to college at NYU. But Marley chose to stay in Nashville for a while longer, at least a few more days. Devon supposed that she was worried about her sister caring for a newly motherless grandchild and a traumatized son.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat as he started to stand up. “I lost track of time, but I was about to head home.”

“Devon,” Marley said as she moved her hand to his back. “You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping at all?”

He could tell the truth.

Or he could do the easier thing: lie.

“Yeah,” He finally said. “I’ve been sleeping pretty good. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow, yeah?”

Without another word, he took off back down the trail and past the stables until he reached his car, forcing back more tears.

He was fine.

Or at least he could make everyone believe that he was.

#{self para; devon}

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