#just a few more sprites n then i set up the blog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

demivampirew · 4 years

Text

I would give up everything for you.

A Charles Brandon x Mary Tudor (written as reader) (Henry’s sister) one shot

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Warnings: Death, heartbreak, crying, unwanted arranged marriage (and talking about being consummated).

Summary: Shortly after becoming a widow, Henry summons you back to England for he has arranged a new marriage for you.

A/N (Important to understand the story): For those who don’t know, in the show they’d merged both Henry’s sisters into one: Margaret. In reality, he had two sisters, the one mentioned who ended up marrying the King of Scotland, James IV, becoming the Queen consort of said country (and after the death of her husband, Queen regent in name of her son for two years). Mary, the other sister, was married to the King of France, Louis XII for a few months, until his death and soon he was succeeded by his son-in-law Francis I -the King of France from the show, and his daughter Claude as Queen Consort- she couldn’t reign for the law forbid a woman to rule the country back at that time. Shortly after the death of the King, Charles was in charge of bringing Mary safe back to England, but in reality that was a secret plan for them to marry in secret in France, as Mary confessed to King Francis. It isn’t known when and how exactly they fell in love but it surely was before her marriage to the late King of France. They married in secret but then they had a public wedding because they suspected Mary to be pregnant and they wanted their kid to be legitimate.

For my story, I mixed a bit of the show’s plot with actual events. The main characters are the same from the show, except from Mary, written from a perspective of reader, who wasn’t on the show (Margaret’s story in this one-shot is the same from history and not the one from the series). I used the arranged marriage with the King of Portugal’s plot from drama purposes (this never happened in reality, because like I’ve said, Mary married Charles before going back to London, and she had married the King of France with the promise that she would marry who she wanted after that or she would become a nun - which Henry did not want because he would lose the Dowager’s money if she did that. -although in this story she doesn’t threaten him with becoming a nun.)

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language and write in another period of time can be a bit difficult. I tried my best, so I apologize if I made mistakes.

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe @thereisa8ella

"The Queen of France, Your Majesty" announced one of the guards as you enter the room. Henry was sitting on the throne. There were a few guards there as well as Charles and William Compton, who were standing next to the door. - Dear sister! - your brother exclaimed as he stood up and approached you, grabbing your arms and placing a kiss on your cheek. - My poor sister, I'm terribly sorry for the lost of your dear husband.- "dear husband"? It felt as if he was mocking you, after all the only reason you married the late King of France, Louis XII was because he forced you to for that marriage forced an alliance between the two countries.

Being married to an old man was not a pretty thing. Being forced to consummate that marriage and with a crowd of people to witness it. Luckily, it didn't last for long because not long after your coronation as the new Queen, on Christmas' eve your husband died for an illness. After his death, his son-in-law, Francis I, inherit the throne with his daughter, Claude as Queen Consort. Even though your marriage was short, you were a loved Queen and you could have stayed in France if you desire it, but your brother had other plans for you. For you to agree to marry the late French King, he promised you that you were going to be able to marry whom you choose after his death, but sadly for you, he had no plans to keep his word. He ordered the Duke of Suffolk to escort you safely back to England. Charles was a loyal friend to Henry, but you succeeded to confess your brother's intentions for your return to England - you knew that if he wanted you back so quickly was not because he missed his beloved sister, but because there was something he needed from you. "He wants you to marry the King of Portugal" he confessed finally succumbing to pressure. After finding out that your worse nightmare was a reality, you ordered everyone on the ship to leave you alone and you cried on the way back.

- As sorry as I am for your loss, I must admit sister that I would need you to put aside your grief and take the King of Portugal as your new husband. With the rise of power of the Holy Roman Emperor, we need new alliances and he is more than pleased to become out ally if you marry him. He's seen your portrait and is enchanted by your beauty.- he informed you with a smirk. You remained silent and made no gestures. - So, my dear sister, would you consent to marry the King? - My consent is not needed, Your Majesty, for the King always does what he wants.- you finally said, your voice emotionless. There he was, your older brother. He could be charming for a moment and a second later be the devil himself if you crossed him. He didn't like when anyone defied him, especially women. His face showed no signs of rejoicing anymore, just contained anger. - We are at war, my dear sister.- he explained angrily. - We could face an invasion from Spain and if that would happen, we will need soldiers and money and he could provide that to us. - You are at war, brother. This is all because of you. If the Holy Roman Emperor is planning to attack England, it is because you broke your promise, like you always do, and set aside his aunt, humiliating her all. And that's because you had fallen in love with another woman. In your eyes, dear brother, you are the only one allowed to marry for love and you do not care who has to pay for your desires.- you replied bitterly. -If you want me to marry that old man, breaking the promise you once made me, at least you could have avoided me the displeasure of seeing your face and should have asked the Duke of Suffolk to escort me directly to Portugal since you know that no matter what are my choices, at the end I must be a loyal subject and obey you or I'll suffer the traitor's faith.

His hands were closed forming fists; he was containing his rage. If there was something Henry hated more than anything else was being defied. If it was not for the fact that he needed your Queen Dowager's money and the perks that your new marriage would bring to him, he would have you banned from court.

- Charles, take her to her chambers immediately.- he ordered and walked away, returning to his throne.

You bowed to him and allowed Charles to escort you back to your bedchambers. Once in the room, he closed the door to be sure no one would hear you speak.

- The Queen would be wise not to cross her brother.- he advised you. He spoke softly, surely it was because he did not want to be heard, but there was another thing in his voice: worry. - Why not?- you asked; it was a sarcastic question, you knew exactly why you should no speak to Henry that way for he was a King before your blood. - He could vanish you from court or worse.- he explained. - Great! I would rather be banned from court or dying to have to marry another old King.- you admitted, sighing bitterly. - You should not say that Your Majesty.- he pleaded. - Charles, would you stop calling me Your Majesty? I have known you my entire life. I'm still the same Mary I have always been, just less trusting and much more unhappy.- you confessed. - But now you are the King of France, Your Majesty. I should treat you with nothing but the proper respect. - I am Queen Dowager, I don't have the same importance that an actual queen has. - You are soon to be Queen again.- he reminded you and a tear fell from your eye; you wiped it away quickly. He stared at you with sadness on his eyes. He was probably hurt that you had to go through that again. - I rather die.- you repeated and look to the floor -You are lucky Charles, you could marry whom you choose.- you sighed. - I cannot.- he said with sadness. - Who is that you want and can't have, Charles? -you asked sarcastically.

The Duke of Suffolk looked you directly into your eyes, giving you the answer to your question without even saying a word.

Before leaving England, the two of you were close. He was this ladies' man and you were the King's little sister, but you started to see him differently in the year previous to your marriage. He was sweet, funny and protective. It was clear that you were not a just his friend's sister anymore, but a smart, funny and delightful woman. You had long talks while you played with carts and spent a lot of time together before your departure.

Charles excused himself and was about to leave. You called his name and when he turned to face you, you ran into his arms and kissed him. He pulled you closer to him as he stopped fighting his conscience. He probably felt that it was wrong, but he couldn't keep denying his feelings. After the long and awaited kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and sighed.

- Escape with me.- you pleaded. - What? -he asked confused. - We could go to France. Francis is not a fan of my brother and he had nothing but sweet thoughts about me. He will be delighted to have me back there and surely he will support us and protect us if Henry decides to seek vengeance. - you assured him.- Please, Charles. - I... I cannot do that, I am sorry.- he said avoiding to look at you. - I will not betray my King. - Is it because he is your childhood friend or because you do not want to lose your lands and titles, Duke of Suffolk? - you questioned bitterly. He did not say a word, but it was not necessary; his shameful look said it all. Your poor heart broke into a million pieces. Not only you would have to marry an old man once more, but the man you loved preferred his nobility and money over you and your happiness. No matter what the future had set for you, it surely would not be a happy one.

A month passed before you were set to leave for Portugal. As you demanded, Charles stood away from you. The days passed and all you could do was crying about your cruel destiny. If at least you could have the luck that your sister Margaret had of marrying a young King whom she fell in love with, but no, that was not your fate. You were meant to be unhappy for the rest of your days.

Charles' eyes met yours. You could feel his pain but you could not be sorry for him, after all, he could have had you if he would have been brave enough to fight for you and, surely soon he would forget all about you and find solace in another woman's arms while you had to be with a man much older than you whom you didn't know. You quickly look to other side making sure he noticed that you were ignoring him and stood there, waiting in the room full of people for your brother to show up to say goodbye.

Henry appeared shortly with Cardinal Wolsey by his side. He approached you a kissed you " My dear sister. Fare you well on your journey. Remember the King of Portugal, your future husband, loves you and respects you. You must love him in return." - he said faking affection when in reality it was a command and a warning. He looked into your shiny, watery eyes but that didn't seem to have any effects on him. After crossing him the day of your return to England, he must be more than happy to see you gone.

The King was about to leave the place when the Duke of Suffolk called his attention.

- Your Majesty, I would like to have a word" - Charles pleaded. Henry looked at him with confusion but gestured him to speak. He walked a few steps forward and got on his knee in front of his best friend. - My heart forces me to beg you to save your sister from this marriage for that would make her unhappy.- he said firmly. There were gasps among the people present. You were breathless and your heart was beating an at exhilarating speed. Henry stared at him, his eyes showed both shock and anger. - As a sign of gratitude for your kindness towards the Queen of France, I will resign to my title, renounced to my lands and accept to be banned from court and any other punishment Your Grace sees suitable for my outrageous request.

For the first time since your mother's death, you saw tears fell from your brother's eyes. It didn't come as such as a surprise to you, you might be his sister by blood, but Charles was his brother by choice; they grew up together and he was his most faithful companion and now he put him in a position Henry must have surely hated. If he agreed to let you escape from this marriage, he would have to punish Charles from defying him in front of people from court. If he rejected his plead, people would know that he forced you into a marriage you didn't want to and he would further loss the affection of his subjects, who were already unhappy about his decision of leaving the beloved Queen Catherine for Anne Boleyn. Whatever decision Harry took, surely it would not have a happy ending for Charles. You knew you were right at the moment your brother stormed out of the room without saying a word.

Anthony Knivert, one of your brother's closest friends, walked you back to your chambers after Cardinal Wolsey ordered him to do so. The trip to Portugal has been postponed until after the King came with a resolution about the matter. As impossible as it seemed, you were even more heartbroken than before. There was no way Charles could cross your brother like that and no get punished and all because of your fault. If you just accepted your destiny quietly and had not made him feel guilty for choosing lands and his noble title over you, this would not have happened. Now, because of your stubbornness, he could face death.

It was around midnight when you heard someone knocking at your door. After permitting to enter your bedchambers, Charles walked in. You got up quickly from your bed and ran into him. He hugged you tightly for a moment and then softly pressed his head against yours. You could feel his warm breath. His hands grabbing your face provoked you chills. - Charles, you should not have done that.- you regretted. - I should have done it before, but it is ok. I would do it again if necessary.- he assured you and tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs clean the tears and then he kissed you. - You are not only the Queen Dowager of France but also the Queen of my heart, Mary.- he confessed. You smiled at him and your lips met his again.

After a knock, the door opened and Will Compton warned Charles to hurry for someone was coming. He kissed you once more and disappeared.

The King summoned you a few days after. There were some noble people present, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk among others. Charles was already there waiting. About half an hour later Henry appeared with Wolsey and sat on the throne. He remained silent for a moment, as he inspected you. He knew; he knew his friend loved you and his love was reciprocated.

- Dear sister, I would like to apologize to you, for I did not know you were unhappy with the marriage proposal.- he said with conviction as if that would make it true- I desire nothing more than happiness for you, my beloved Mary. So I have decided that it should be you the one to decide who your future husband will be. You have my word and my blessing. Of course, he would make it seem as if you pact before marrying King Louis XII was his idea, but you did not care, as long as he granted you that you were not mad about him credit it to himself. - As for Your Grace.- he said looking at Charles- Your title and lands were given to you as a reward for bravely fighting by my side to defend your country and should remain at your disposal. Furthermore, as a sign of gratitude for enlightened me about my sister's displeasure for her now announced marriage, I would like to grant you my blessing to marry her, if that is her heart's desire and I hope you live the happy quiet life you desire away from court.

There it was, your punishment was being banned from court, but it was a slight price to pay for all the great things you had achieved. You were now allowed to marry Charles and live happily with him.

Maybe it was the fear that Henry would change his mind that made you marry that same day. In a private ceremony, with a few maids and his friends Will and Anthony to witness it, you promised to love each other forever.

You had the opportunity to have another wedding since you have not bled and you were sure with child, you had a public wedding to show the legitimacy of your future child. This time, you had it at court. Henry was a proud man, but even if Charles did what no other man would have dared unless they wanted to lose their heads, your brother loved him too much and trust no other like he trusted your husband.

Henry Brandon. That's the name Charles choose for your newborn. He was the living image of his father.

Not everything in your remaining life was happiness. Even though you had been blessed with another two children, Frances and Eleanor, by God's will your little Henry died when he was six years old. A year after that, another baby joined your family, honouring his late brother by carrying his name.

Charles was nothing but a loving husband to you. He stood by your side when tragedy hit your family and later when you got ill. You survived the sweating sickness but never fully recovered from it, and five years later you meet again with your loving son. It must have hurt your love, who never left your side until your heart stopped beating. He loved you much and would be sad for losing you, but you were glad he had your loving daughters and son to keep him company and help him move on.

#charles brandon #charles brandon fanfic #charles brandon fanfiction #charles brandon one shot #the tudors #the tudors fanfiction #henry tudor #henry VIII #mary tudor #mary queen of france #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon x mary tudor #demivampirew

166 notes · View notes

perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Back to the sun (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! How are you guys? I hope everyone is doing okay. In this terrifying and stressful time it's important to take care of yourself and your loved ones, stay safe <3

I’ve been spaming my blog with La Casa de Papel, because I’ve addicted myself to it and I have no shame. If you haven’t watched it and you have the chance to do so, I strongly recommend it, Sergio and Raquel is my newest OTP and I will fight for them.

This fic is long. Like, *long*. Not the longest one I've written but it's up there. It uses the information from OH2, takes place most likely before chapter 6.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546905

Tag list: @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h Enjoy! <3

--------

„We have to stop getting ourselves into situations like these.” He muttered under his breath, gripping the handle of his suitcase so hard, he was scared it would break. He used it as an anchor, trying not to drown in the ocean of his confused emotions and feelings. She bit back a laugh, choosing instead to smirk at his remark.

“Yes, please, remind me to say ‘no’ next time you give me an assignment. I’m sure you would be over the moon.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, feeling distant and much too cold for his liking. It’s been that way for a few weeks now, the utter and complete ‘control’ she had over herself whether they were in close proximity. A month ago, she might have been a bit more friendly, but those times were long gone, leaving only the stiff sense of professionalism that he so desperately wanted to maintain with her.

They wouldn’t be in that impasse if he hadn’t been such an idiot and just talked to her. Instead, he chose to ignore her completely. The hospital was in trouble, the team was in trouble, and deep down he knew that. He knew that she might have had a point, going against him and contacting that patient when he oh so clearly told her not to.

But she did, and now the Board sensed profit. Who could blame them, they had to figure out a way to keep the hospital afloat; it made perfect sense to use her idea, and no amount of his protests would change the fact that in their situation, with a knife against their throat, they had no other choice.

Deafening silence dropped between them, increasing the discomfort they both felt when interacting with each other tenfold. Without even a second of hesitation, she walked past him and went to the security line. He followed, feeling even worse about the whole trip than he did when he left his apartment this morning.

Because apparently, the team was now being rented out to the patient’s home like some device, they were called to the patient all the way on the island in the Philippines. They couldn’t just leave their patients, so it was decided that half of the team would go, while the other half stays behind. It was Ethan’s luck that June had her dentist appointment that week and Baz had to attend a class, which left Claire and Ethan at the airport, about to board the plane.

And still, not another word was being said. If he had a wand, he would have gone back in time and smacked himself in the back of his head. Told his past self that being stubborn when it came to situations like those had never been a good idea, especially when the only woman on his mind was involved in the situation. Pushed him towards her so they could talk, so they could avoid being stuck between hatred and emptiness.

His every try at sparking up a conversation with her that had nothing to do with their work was immediately shut down. He couldn’t even count how many times he wondered if this was what she felt like every time he pushed her away. Feeling like an idiot was bad enough, but now he also felt like an asshole, and it just added to the emptiness that roared in his chest every time he looked at her and she turned away from him.

Once they were stuck in a plane in adjacent seats, he figured there would be nowhere for them to run, so, logically, they would have to talk eventually. Oh, how wrong he was. Books, music, sleep, something called Netflix that was confusing to him but from what he gathered, it allowed her to watch movies and shows. She did it all, just so that she wouldn’t have to talk to him. Turning towards the window so she wouldn’t even have to look at him.

What a long week that would be.

-----------

He could only hope that no one heard the door to his office slam behind him. He didn’t even reach his desk when they opened again, then slammed shut once more. Steps followed, then a chair got pulled back in haste and suddenly they were seeing eye to eye.

“Can you talk to me? Or are you going to be throwing that hissy fit of yours for the rest of my residency?” she asked, as calmly as she possibly could, given the circumstance. He scoffed, leaning back in his seat with folded arms.

“I don’t see the need to talk to you. Just like you didn’t see the need to talk to me before you went behind my back and compromised the team’s ideals.”

“I did talk to you, but you were too busy caring about morals that aren’t even yours, Ethan. I get that Naveen wanted the team to work differently, trust me, I do. But times changed, situation has changed along with it, and we can’t afford to be guided just by those aspirations, no matter how noble they are. If we can’t keep the hospital alive, we can’t help anyone. Don’t you see that?” she explained slowly, refusing to let the emotions get the best of her. The last thing she needed was an argument with him, another one for the books.

“It’s not okay to throw away the sole purpose for the team’s existence because you couldn’t stop and wait for us to come up with other solution. It’s not okay to decide for yourself how the team works. You may be there because you are a brilliant young doctor, but that doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever the hell you want.” he was getting even more winded, his knee going up and back down as he struggled to not slam his hand on the desk. It was enough that he already raised his voice at her, but it would only be a matter of time before he says something he regrets.

“You’re a goddamn hypocrite! How is it that I’m an idiot when I came up with the solution for the team to stay alive, but when you threw away Naveen’s vision because you needed Nash’s help, it’s suddenly okay?” her tone rose slightly, her whole body shaking from anger and anxiety. What he was doing was wrong, and she was having none of it.

“I didn’t have a choice. You did, and you fell right into the trap that this circumstance set up for naïve weak links like you.”

In that moment, the world has stopped for a fraction for a second. He could see the exact moment in which she broke, like a twig on the ground in the forest when it’s stepped on. A loud crack in the otherwise silent and calm environment.

A lone tear shone in her eye before rolling down her cheek slowly, a mere whisper against her skin. The blow took her breath away, made her recoil, as though she had been shot. And maybe she was. Her chest hurt, like someone grabbed her lungs and squeezed, making it impossible to breathe. Barely holding onto the last sliver of her strength, she nodded, a barely visible move, then stood up and left the room, letting the door fall shut with a gently click behind her.

-----------

He regretted those words more than anything else in his life. Only once she placed the very strict and very stern barrier between them did he come to terms with the fact that he needed her. He wanted her. It felt different than when he was in the Amazon, and despite now seeing her every day, it felt like the distance was all the same again. When he left her for two months, he felt in control. It was his own decision, he was in charge of the situation, at least to some degree. Now, it was her. She built walls between them and set an entire ocean of space between those layers, just to make sure that he would never get through them.

It took him some time to realize that she was protecting herself from another blow from him. He hurt her enough times for her to have enough. When he finally connected the dots and came to the realization of what exactly he said to her, she was already out of reach from him. They were now stuck like this, for indefinite time, and he had no idea if there was a way out of this for either of them.

Long hours later, when the plane touched down, he felt some weight being lifted off his chest. They spoke a total of two times during the whole flight, both times about their patient, and both times it was a stiff and empty conversation.

You should be happy, Ramsey. Just like you wanted.

The hot, humid air hit him as soon as he took a step outside the plane, and he immediately regretted his choice of clothing. It crossed his mind to lose the sweater, but he found his thoughts freezing and then instantly flying out the window when he turned towards Claire, just in time to see her taking her shirt off. He choked on air, being acutely aware of how the tank top she had underneath hugged her body. When she folded the shirt and hid it in her bag, she ran her fingers through her hair to tame it a bit, and it was at that moment that she chose to look at him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he was staring, and that alone earned him a scoff from her.

“What are you looking at, Dr. Ramsey?” she asked, putting her sunglasses on and walking past him, not bothering to check if he was following her.

Yes, a long week ahead of them indeed.

--------

The road from the airport to the marina went without a hitch. Ethan was surprised to find out that she actually knew a bit of Filipino, so she could talk to their driver, even though most of their conversation was spoken in English.

It always fascinated him, how much he still didn’t know about her. There were so many layers to who she was, and even if he spent the rest of his life uncovering them, he wouldn’t discover everything. She was so open to people, so warm and welcoming, drawing them to her with just the way her smile warmed up the room she was in. It’s one of the things that made him fall for her, so hard and fast that he didn’t even feel when or how it happened.

He observed her as they got onto the boat. How her hair shined under the sun, how she gesticulated vividly while speaking to their Capitan, laughing at something he muttered in the language Ethan didn’t understand. He remained silent, focusing on the lines on his hands, the turmoil in his head getting louder. A shadow passed his skin and the bench he was sitting on suddenly bent under additional weight as she sat down next to him.

“Do we know anything about the patient? Who are they even?” she asked softly, gazing over her shoulders, locking her eyes on the rays of sunshine that sparkled on the surface of the water. Ethan’s line of sight, however, found its place on the side of her face, where it remained until she looked back at him.

It was a rare moment for him, when she allowed him to look into her eyes. The underlying pain, the sadness so powerful that it felt like a kick to his chest, and unspoken question of Is that really what you think of me? that he could almost hear her ask, breathlessly, barely above a whisper.

“His name is Andres Blanco, he’s 47. Used to live in Spain, then decided to move here with his wife. I don’t have any information about his condition though, so that remains to be seen.” He recited, knowing all the details by heart by now. He’s read the file he was given by Naveen more times than he could count, just so that he could distract himself from thinking of yet another way he could get Claire to talk to him.

“I can see why he moved. It’s such a peaceful place.” She mused, leaning over the side of the boat to dip her hand into the water. Her hair flew forward covering her face almost entirely, the tips getting darker as they got wet.

“Do you see yourself living here?” he remembered her asking him a very similar question when they were on a home visit a few weeks back. His answer didn’t change, but he never found out her opinion.

“I almost moved here. Five years ago.” Her reply was met with wide eyes, which in turn made her grin. “I decided to stay in The States, go for my medical degree.”

“I think you would fit in here nicely. It has just enough quietness to balance out the craziness of life.” he pointed out and for the first time in weeks, he saw her smiling. Dimples created a stark contrast with her otherwise sunlit skin, making his gaze stray from her eyes for just a moment.

An island came into the view, causing silence to once again fall between them. It felt different though, a tone lighter, made it easier to breathe. It gave him a glimmer of hope, maybe they were not doomed after all. She did leave his side in haste, but the coldness on her face wasn’t as biting as it once was.

A young woman was waiting for them on the shore, smiling brightly as she waited for them to approach her. The very second Claire was in her proximity, her arms went around her neck in an overly enthusiastic hug, but it seemed as though Claire was expecting it, for she reciprocated the gesture in kind.

“It’s so good to finally have you here! Mr. Blanco was awaiting your arrival. Please, come this way.” She nodded her head slightly, then led them inside the house. Ethan hurried after the two of them, touching Claire’s elbow gently to get her attention. To his surprise, she didn’t jerk away from him.

“Are all people so…”

“Happy?” she suggested, grinning at his evident discomfort, watching how his eyes narrowed at her, making her grin even wider. “Most people here are. I’d say you’re going to get used to it, but I know you long enough to know that it’s not true.”

“So, what do you propose I do?” he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing out heavily. She patted his shoulder briefly in return.

“Deal with it.”

He still wasn’t used to her being so detached from him, so indifferent to everything he was doing. Of course, he had no way of knowing if she was truly over him, or if she was only pretending, but in that moment, he could only go on what was in front of him. And all he saw was her indifferent demeanor, with rare moments in which he could see glimpses of how she really felt.

The inside of the house provided much needed shade and protection from the sun, along with the pleasant sensation of coolness. In the grand living room, he spotted a pair, fully focused on the game of chess between them. A man looked up when he heard them walk in and smiled widely.

“Ah! Doctors, I assume? Please, come on in, have a seat. Would you like some iced coffee? Are you hungry?” he stood up slowly and approached them, greeting Claire first, then Ethan. “Paula, if you would be so kind to-“

“Please, Mr. Blanco, it’s quite alright. All that can wait, we’d much rather get started if that’s okay with you.” Ethan interrupted, aware of how rude it might sound. A warm touch on his arm stopped him from saying anything else.

“What Dr. Ramsey meant is that we would love to, but it all can be done in the meantime. If you could clue us into your symptoms? Where did they start?” Claire smiled, speaking softly and quietly, handling the situation far better than he did. He was grateful that she did get his point across without sounding stiff, and the fact that Andres immediately nodded and complied with her wish only made him appreciate her more.

They found out that his wife’s name was Carla and that it was her who reached out to them. His symptoms didn’t point towards anything specific, exactly how they expected it to be. After taking samples to run some tests, they decided to retreat to their rooms for the afternoon, giving their patient some space.

“So, what do you think is wrong with him?” he asked when they were alone in the hallway, hoping not so silently that she would actually talk to him. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath, drilling holes into the floor with her gaze.

“I don’t know. Let’s wait for the test results and then we’ll pick up this conversation.”

And with that, she disappeared behind the door to her room. A sinking feeling in his stomach got worse every time she did that, but he couldn’t really blame her. Ever since the argument in his office, their relationship was practically nonexistent, and he had no one else but himself to blame. She refused to let him talk, and he refused to run after her like a kicked puppy. Both too stubborn to resolve the situation.

--------

The evening air brought a gentle breeze from the ocean, making trees around the house whisper softly as their leaves moved. They were seated on the patio, lit by candles and lit torches that lined the way to the beach. Food was already gone from the table, only glasses of wine left. Claire fell into an easy routine, insisting that Paula joined them, noticing how Carla called her ‘Paulita’ with a voice full of fondness. The three women found the common ground almost immediately, getting lost deeper and deeper in their exchange. Meanwhile, Ethan and Andres watched them, the latter with a smile on his face, and the former with an unreadable expression.

The last rays of sunshine left the sky, prompting them to finish their gathering and head to beds. Claire excused herself, heading for the beach without looking back. It took only a fraction of a second for Ethan to decide to follow her, his feet carrying him after her, his lips curling around her name.

She couldn’t say she expected him to follow her. Truth be told, her initial intention was to get away from him so she could get some perspective on the situation, but that thought flew out of her head almost as quickly as it entered it. She’s had plenty of time to go over their last real conversation, over and over again, in great detail. She could quote it, line for line, complete with his tone and facial expressions.

Up until now, she didn’t want to face him. But now, she was ready to finish it.

They both came to a slow stop right at the edge of the water, the waves brushing against the tips of their feet slightly. She was looking ahead at the horizon. He was looking at her, unable to remember what words even were or what language could he speak. In the soft light of the moon, she looked even more radiant than in the full sun, the slightly tanned skin of hers creating a contrast in the white light during the night.

“I’ve been here before. Philippines, I mean. During high school, an exchange program. A very different time, a very different Claire, but the water feels the same. The stars look the same.” She mused, drawing a shape with the tip of her toe, watching as the waves dissolved it. “What an easy time that was.”

“Claire… I… “ he stuttered, unable to even form a coherent sentence. He could feel his breathing get elevated and his emotions flying high. Like never before, he wanted to say the right thing, he wanted that goddamn impasse to be over, but he was aware of how badly he screwed up. A simple ‘sorry’ just wasn’t enough, not this time.

“Look, I don’t want you apologizing to me. For the past month I was brewing in this state of self-loathing because with each day that passed, I realized that you may be right. That being said, I’m not sorry about my decision, and I’m not going to apologize for what I did. I’m hotheaded, I act before I think and it’s going to get me in trouble more times than save my ass, but it’s just who I am. I can’t exactly change that.” She shrugged, then looked up at him. His eyes were staring straight through her, morphing from nothingness, to a sliver of panic, to understanding.

She continued after a moment, letting out a breathless laughter, like she was relieved. “The moment I realized that, I understood what I wanted. What I needed.” Her hand went up, about to touch him, and then fell back against her side. “I need you to hold me so tight that I lose the sense of time or let me go. Keep me close or let me walk away. I’m tired of not knowing what ground I’m standing on, always feeling like I’m about to be swallowed whole. I need stability, Ethan. I need security, one way or another.”

The silence was something both of them were used to, allowing her words to ring between them before setting in properly. He was stunned, his throat closed, and he couldn’t speak if her tried. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, and yet, when he opened his mouth, no sound would come out. She understood that, knowing the feeling all too well, so she bid him goodnight, leaving him with a lasting image of her fleeting smile in the moonlight.

-------

The next morning, she greeted him at breakfast with an easy smile. There was no trace of tension in her posture, not even a hint of uncomfortableness whatsoever. Calling out to ‘Paulita’, she jumped in to help her with setting the table, leaving him to his thoughts.

She seemed okay. Definitely better than she was the night before. Miles above the pit she seemed to be treading above for several weeks. He was happy for her; how could he not be? It was his words that hurt her, it was him that made her cry, the sight of it burned into his memory.

Their conversation from the night before hadn’t left his mind for even a second. She made him face the hard truth. His anger may have been directed at her, but the real issue was the feeling of helplessness in the situation they were facing. As much as he would want to lie and say that the way she handled the problem was the source of his sour mood, he had to admit that her going behind his back hurt him more. His morals didn’t match the reality, amplifying his temper and blowing everything out of proportion.

She wasn’t a weak link. Of course she wasn’t, she was one of the strongest, and he knew it damn well. But at that point, it didn’t matter what he knew and didn’t know, because all she knew was that he considered her a liability.

His line of thought was interrupted by everyone gathering for breakfast, making him point his attention to the problem of Andres’s condition. Ethan’s eyes strayed from his plate to Claire only once, noticing how the air around them seemed lighter. He felt like he could breathe again, and chances were that it would only get better from that point on.

----------

It must have been four in the morning, but it didn’t really matter. They all stayed up until ten pm to solve the case, and it paid off. Celebratory champagne was opened, and music began flowing in the air, furniture got pushed to the sides of the room to make space for dancing. Ethan remained seated, watching how everyone around him threw all the reservations aside and just relaxed. He was never much of a dancer, not that he couldn’t, he just didn’t feel the need to.

Someone stood before him, casting a shadow upon him, prompting him to look up. Claire’s eyes sparkled with happiness, champagne and so much life in them, making him want to jump up and scream at the top of his lungs. She extended her hand towards him, wiggling her fingers invitingly.

“Come on, dance with me.” she said, pulling him up with surprising strength when he placed his palm in hers. He stumbled, catching himself onto her for support, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

It might have been alcohol that made him twirl her with such enthusiasm. It might have been the fever from the high temperature that made him dip her onto the floor, only to pull her back into his arms and back out again. It might have been the music she sang along to, the utter happiness on her face that made him smile too.

As fast as she pulled him onto the dancefloor, she was gone, giggling when Paula twirled around her, jumping to the beat of the song. He sat back down, taking a sip of his drink, watching the world around him go by.

It was now hours later, the sun was beginning to rise again. He should be sleeping, but the turmoil in his mind makes it impossible to even close his eyes.

There used to be a time when he would wake up early to watch the sunrise. Much like it was now, the tranquility of the world at such a young hour of the day filling him to the brim. No one else was around, he was alone with himself. It felt comforting and empty at the same time, the contradicting feelings causing waves to roll through his head.

But he wasn’t the only person up as it turned out. In a long, white dress, flowing in the breeze, stood Claire. Her feet in the water, the edges of the material wet from the contact with the liquid. She seemed lost in thoughts, swaying from side to side gently to some tune.

His feet carried him to her side, standing next to her wordlessly. They watched the sun go up, changing the sky, creating lines and shadows on their faces. In that moment, he was ready to swear that he’s never seen a more beautiful scenery before in his entire life.

The ocean was warm against his skin, his toes sinking into the wet sand slightly, providing just enough stability to help him ground himself in the situation. No words were needed, at least not now. For once, the silence was comforting, not filled with rage, loathing and regrets, but instead with comfort and security.

Suddenly, she took a step forward, then another, getting deeper into the water, her dress clinging to her body more and more. She stopped when half of her body was gone from his view, her head falling back slowly, shoulders moving up and down as she took a deep breath. He followed her, reaching for her hand with his, their fingers brushing against each other.

Eventually, she turned her head to look at him, her face blank of any emotions. His other hand brushed against her cheek, a look of wonder taking over his features.

“I’m an idiot.” He muttered, still focused on her eyes. An amused smirk appeared on her lips.

“You are. And you are welcome for the honesty too.” She added, making him laugh breathlessly.

“I mean it, really. I’ve been carrying this guilt and anger with me for such a long time, and I realized that it’s not you I’m angry at. It’s not your actions that made me say all those reckless words. It was my own cowardice.” Ethan admitted, anxious about her reaction. Her eyebrow shot up, an even combination of pensiveness and curiosity now present on her face.

“What cowardice?”

“I wasn’t brave enough to do what the team needed me to do. What you did. I wasn’t brave enough to admit that you were right. I wanted to hurt you, push you away, as far as I could, so I wouldn’t have to look at you every day and be reminded of the biggest act of cowardice I’ve ever committed.”

This was the moment in which he cuts himself open and lets her see him for who he really was. He suspected that she already knew it all, after all, she knew him better than anyone else. At times, it felt as though she could see right through him.

“I wasn’t brave enough to admit that I never wanted to let you go. I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want space, I don’t want time.” He stepped closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back, pulling her just a bit closer to him. “I want to get lost in you, hold you so tight that the rest of the world disappears. It usually does, when I’m with you. I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole, you have every right not to believe a word I say but… I want you close”

She looked up at him without saying anything, prolonging his torture even more. They both knew it. And then, something in her face changed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him downwards, making them both fall into the water. Her laughter rang in his ears, then got quickly cut off as she dove beneath the surface and swam away from him.

He chased after her, getting them both closer to the shore so they both could reach the ground with their feet. Claire wrapped her arms around him tightly, bringing their faces together. Right before their lips met, she managed to whisper.

“Don’t let me go.”

The kiss was like a breath of fresh air, filling him up and reaching every far end of his whole being. The intensity hit them both, making them stumble and fall to the ground, her hands gripping his hair as she laid on top of him. The waves crashed against them, soaking them to the last thread, but neither seemed to notice nor mind. He hummed quietly, letting himself get swept by the force of her influence on him, his grip on her sides tightening slightly.

Flipping them over, he wrapped one arm around her to keep her close, bracing himself above the ground with the other. She broke the kiss and leaned away, watching him with attentive gaze. His hair was dripping, droplets falling onto his skin and lips. Feeling playful, she dove forward and licked the water away, then bit his lower lip and pulled on it, eliciting a growl from him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re trying to seduce me.” he muttered into her ear, grazing the side of her neck with his nose. A shiver ran down her spine as she shook her head.

“Wherever would you get that idea. I was watching the sunrise, it was you who attacked me.” giggling, she detangled herself from his grip. A rush of panic rose in his chest, wondering if he read the situation incorrectly. She stood over him, hands on her hips, looking at the horizon again. “So… are you going to continue or…?”

The look on his face must have been a work of art. All the insecurity evaporated, and he couldn’t stand up fast enough. Once she was close enough for him to embrace her, he gathered her in his arms and threw her over his shoulder, a surprised gasp escaping her lips.

“You think we can make it back to the house without flooding the floor?” he asked, laughter coloring his voice. She drummed her palms against his back, pondering upon his question for a short while.

“Only one way to find out.”

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #choices fanfiction #fic #fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey

155 notes · View notes

nazariolahela · 4 years

Text

Something Domestic: Chapter 17

A/N: Hey y'all! This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

I just wanted to give a quick thanks to everyone who read this series. It was so much fun to write. Big thanks to everyone who gave feedback and bugged me about releasing new chapters on time. (Which I couldn’t seem to do towards the end. Haha sorry about that.) Anywho, I really appreciate everyone who took the time to read my writing. Y’all are amazing. 😘😘

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney @superharrietsuper @custaroonie @lady-calypso @ritachacha @olympianpantsuit @desiree-0816 @the-soot-sprite @kate-mckenzie @narrytheworld @octobereighth @lynne1993 @queen-anastasia-universe @loveellamae @sarzkh31 @iaminlovewithtrr @queenjilian

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Will Riley and Liam get their Happily Ever After?

Epilogue - Six Months Later

Hana and I stand in the living room of our old apartment, packing up the last of the boxes. It still hasn’t hit me yet that this will no longer be our home. We had some good memories here. I pick up a framed photo of us in the Hamptons the summer after we graduated college. It’s only from a few years ago, but I can’t believe how young we look.

Hana balances a box on her hip, peering over my shoulder at the photo. “Oh my gods, look at us.”

I turn around and hold it out to her. “Do you want it?”

She shakes her head. “You keep it. I already took the one from our vacation at the shore. I look better in that one anyway.”

“Yes you do,” I laugh and set the photo into a box and tape the lid shut. I stand up and take one last look around the apartment, making sure we didn’t forget anything. I smile to myself as I recall the last four years. I remember we had to sleep on an air mattress in the living room that first night because the moving truck wasn’t scheduled to show up with our furniture until the next morning. The washing machine on our floor broke a week after we moved in, so we had to wash all our clothes in the tub. There was also the time our upstairs neighbor tried to get us to have a threesome with him.

Hana glances out the window then turns back to me. “Your ride is here. If you want, I can take the keys down to the landlord.”

I unhook mine from my keyring and place it in her palm before wrapping her in a hug. I can’t stop the tears from escaping. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

She laughs through her own tears. “I’m only moving to the West Village. It’s literally a 30-minute drive. I promise we’ll get together once a week.” Her hand moves to my cheek to brush away my tears and the sunlight pouring in through the window catches the diamond of her wedding ring. Hana and Meghan got married last week in an intimate ceremony. The engagement was a short one and caught everyone by surprise, especially Hana’s parents. They were against it at first, but eventually came around and walked her down the aisle. I stood in as Hana’s Maid of Honor, with Meghan’s older brother serving as her Best Man.

“Promise you won’t turn into one of those married bitches who ditches her best friend for her wife?” I sniffle.

“As long as you don’t turn into one of those trophy girlfriends who ditches her best friend for her rich boyfriend.”

We laugh and share another hug before I grab my boxes and make my way downstairs. When I reach the sidewalk, I spot Liam leaning against the side of his car, looking mouthwatering in dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. A sexy smirk spreads across his face. After the drama with Madeleine, Liam and I became official. He wanted to move me into his penthouse almost immediately, but I told him I had to wait for my lease to expire before we took that next step. Although to be honest, I’ve been spending nearly every night at his place.

He approaches me, taking the boxes from my hands and presses a searing kiss to my lips. “Got everything?” he asks as he moves to set the boxes in the trunk.

“Yep, Hana’s dropping the key off right now.”

He slings an arm around me and pulls me to him, kissing my forehead. Hana emerges a few minutes later, holding her own boxes. Liam walks over and takes the boxes from her as she and I share one last hug.

“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask her.

She beams. “Well, we’re meeting with the adoption agency for a home study. But I’ll call you next week. We can get lunch.”

My heart warms. Hana and Meghan applied to adopt a child a few months ago. I was over the moon when she shared the news. We all suspect the sudden engagement and marriage was a way to fast-track the adoption process.

A few moments later, Meghan’s car pulls up behind Liam’s. Hana and I say our goodbyes as Meghan grabs the boxes from Liam and puts them in the back seat of her car. Hana hugs Liam then climbs in the front seat. I make my way over to Meghan.

“Hey! I just want to say thank you for always being there for Hana. Even when I wasn’t. She’s very lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one. But thank you. I know we’ve had our differences, but you mean a lot to her, and I want you and me to be friends.”

“I think we can do that,” I say before pulling her in for a hug. “Take care of my best friend, please.”

“I will.”

Meghan gives us a quick wave, then climbs into her car and pulls away from the curb. I wipe the tears from my face as Liam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me, and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Ready to get out of here?”

“Ready when you are.” He opens my car door and holds it while I climb inside. He then jogs around the front to his side and slips in. He presses the push start button and the car roars to life. Shifting the car in gear, he pulls away from the curb and sets off down the street. I stare out the window and watch our old apartment building disappear. Liam reaches over and takes my hand, entwining our fingers, and presses a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Have you heard from Andrew lately?”

I dig through my purse with my free hand and fish out my cellphone. I open my messages and show him a photo of Andrew, Derek and Adam, and their new nanny Emily all lounging on the beach in Cabo. They all look so happy. Emily took over as Andrew’s live-in nanny a few months ago. I was the one who recommended her. She has a degree in early childhood development and she’s great at what she does. The best part was that she was more than willing to take the job. As much as I enjoyed working with Andrew and his dads, I just couldn’t commit to the live-in part. Thankfully, they were very understanding. They send me weekly updates, thanking me for bringing her into their lives. Although I will miss working with them, I know I made the right choice.

Liam glances at the photo and smiles. “I’ll take you to Cabo if you want. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Just say the word.”

“You can start by taking me home. To our home.”

He nods and moves through traffic on the way to our home. I’m excited to see the kids. I ended up leaving the agency shortly after Liam and I got back together. It was hard at first, but I love that it gives me more time to spend with Charlotte and Philip. Now that Liam and I are a couple, we wanted to make sure the kids understood what was going on. After he gained sole custody, we sat down with them and explained our relationship. They were beyond elated to have me back. Philip immediately asked me if we could go to the park. Charlotte asked me if her daddy and I were getting married.

Liam pulls the car up to the building and parks it in the underground parking area. We grab the last of my stuff and make our way to the elevator. Once we’re inside, he gently takes the boxes from my arms and sets them on the floor. He then wraps his arms around me, gripping my ass, and pulls me to his body. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss. His lips trail down my neck and shoulder, sending chills throughout my body. I fist his t-shirt, feeling him grow hard against me. This elevator better hurry the fuck up so I can officially fuck him in our apartment.

When we reach the top floor, the doors glide open and two high-pitched voices break us apart.

“DADDY! RILEY!” Charlotte and Philip shout in unison as they greet us in the foyer. Belinda waves goodbye as she slips out. Liam decided to keep Belinda on as a part-time nanny. Meaning she only watches the kids when needed. Charlotte’s arms wrap around my leg. I pick her up and hug her.

“Riley! Can we go play with my new dollhouse?”

“Later, sweetie. I need to finish unpacking. Why don’t you go wash up? It’s getting close to dinner time,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek. Philip runs up to me and hands me a picture he drew. I examine the artwork. Stick figure Liam and I are holding hands with stick figure Charlotte and Philip on either side of us. I smile and make my way into the kitchen, attaching it to the fridge. Liam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my stomach, and nuzzles my neck.

“Look at my little van Gogh. Let’s take your stuff up to our room. Then we can order something to eat. And later, I can eat you.”

My cheeks flame. Thankfully the kids aren’t within earshot. Moments later they come bursting into the room. He smirks and disappears up the stairs. I call out to Philip and Charlotte. “Hey, guys! Dinner will be here soon. Let’s go get washed up.”

A little while later, the food arrives and we sit down to eat. I glance around the table and observe. This whole thing feels right. I have a perfect man sitting next to me, two amazing kids that love me and I love like they were my own. I also have wonderful friends who care about me. I have the urge to pinch myself because none of this feels real. Liam looks over at me and gives me a warm smile that sends the butterflies in my stomach aflutter.

Later that evening as we’re putting the kids to bed, Charlotte grabs my hand.

“Riley? Are you going to live with us forever?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Liam smirk. I crouch down and brush her hair out of her face. “I hope so, sweetie. I love living with you and Philip. And your daddy, of course.”

She nods, her eyelids growing heavy. “Good. You should stay here.”

I lean in and kiss her forehead, then make my way to Philip’s room. He is sitting on his bed, holding his favorite bedtime story. “Riley? Will you read me a story?”

I glance at Liam standing in the doorway, then turn back to him. “Isn’t that your daddy’s job?”

“I want you to do it.”

I chuckle and sit down at the foot of his bed, taking the book from him. He curls under the covers and waves his father over. Liam sits cross-legged on the floor next to his bed as I read to Philip from his favorite book. Within a few minutes, he’s out like a light. Liam smiles and takes the book from my hand, placing it in the bookshelf. He grabs my hand and guides me down the hall to our room. I swing open the door and notice the dim glow of candles and rose petals scattered all over the bedroom. So that’s where he disappeared to before dinner. My eyes widen in shock.

“Liam? What is all this?”

I turn around just as he drops down to one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. His blue eyes glow in the candlelight.

“Riley Brooks, queen of my heart. Ever since the day I met you, you’ve changed my whole world. Every day with you these last six months feels like a dream that I don’t want to wake up from. You’ve embraced my kids and love them as if you gave birth to them. You stayed patient with me through all my ex-wife drama. And even when I put you through hell, you could have told me to fuck off and never talked to me again. But you didn’t. All I want in this world is to dedicate my life to being the best man that I can be… for you. I have yearned to say these four words for a very long time… Will you marry me?”

He opens the box and reveals the most stunning emerald-cut solitaire engagement ring. This bad-boy has to be at least 10 carats. I don’t even want to know what he spent on it.

“Ohmygods, Liam!” I choke out through my tears. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

He grins from ear to ear and slips the ring from its box, then onto my finger. He rises to his feet and cups my face in both hands, his blue eyes staring directly into mine. “I love you, Riley.”

“I love you, too.”

He brushes his lips to mine in a tender kiss that quickly grows intense. He presses my body to his, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me over to the bed and places me on the mattress, trailing his lips down my neck and across my collarbone. His hands go to work slipping off my shirt and bra.

“You won’t be needing these for what I’m about to do to you.”

Oh wow. A chill runs through my body, one he notices. He grins and trails hot kisses down my chest, taking one of my nipples in his mouth and gently tugs it in his teeth. The sensation shoots straight to my core and I let a soft moan slip from my lips. He begins to make his way down my stomach when I stop him.

“Wait!”

He looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”

I sit up and roll us over until I’m on top, straddling him. His eyes widen as I lean in and begin kissing my way down his chest. I don’t break eye contact as I slowly unbuckle and unzip his pants. His chest rises and falls in rapid succession.

“Riley, you don’t have to do this.”

I reach up and place a finger on his lips as I kiss a trail down his stomach until I reach the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Shh...Let me do this for you.”

I pull his underwear down and his cock springs free. I circle my tongue along the tip and pump it twice before wrapping my lips around him. His hands reach down to tangle his fingers in my hair, tugging it slightly. I take this cue to flatten my tongue and run it along the underside of his dick. I look up and see his eyes rolling in the back of his skull. I grin as I continue pumping and sucking, bobbing my head up and down.

His voice comes out as a harsh, husky whisper. “Riley, baby. I’m not going to last much longer.”

I quicken my pace, switching from long slow pumps to short fast ones. He grips my hair tighter and guides my rhythm, fucking my mouth. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I moan, causing him to moan in response.

“Riley… baby. Fuck… I’m gonna... come.”

I suck in my cheeks and pump harder and soon after he spills down my throat. I swallow and lap up his hot cum. He pulls me up his body, breathing hard, and presses a deep kiss to my lips.

“Holy shit. Would it be too much to ask for you to do that every night?”

I laugh. “Only for you, baby.”

He rolls us over and settles on top of me, fitting his long body between my thighs. “You couldn’t be more perfect if you tried. I love you. And I want to spend every day for the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. I know I already asked you this, but will you marry me?”

I smile and run my fingers through his hair pulling him closer to me. “Yes.”

#something domestic #nanny au #trr au #choices fanfic #riley brooks #liam rhys #nazariolahela fanfic

66 notes · View notes

septembercfawkes · 5 years

Text

How to Use a Dash—in Fiction Writing

I've been getting more requests to do posts on proper punctuation, and one that a few people have mentioned is the em dash. I actually think this one is a little trickier to use than the semicolon (which I argue is actually one of the easiest), just because the rules surrounding it are more lax. However, like the semicolon, you can pretty much get away with almost never using it.

But a great em dash can be really effective, and sometimes it's just the punctuation mark you're looking for. It's worth noting that em dashes feel more informal. They make the text more casual, which may or may not be what you are looking for.

With that said, let's get started.

For Interruptions

As an editor, one of the most common (but understandable) problems I see with dashes is that the writer uses an ellipsis (. . .) to indicate an interruption instead of a dash. An ellipsis in dialogue means that the speaker sort of just trailed off:

"I don't know. Maybe it's something . . ." she trailed off.

But an em dash means they are cut off.

"I don't know. Maybe it's something--"

"Like an animal? Maybe a bear?" Callie interrupted.

Interruptions may not always be from another speaker. They can be a sound in the environment:

"If only--"

A police siren suddenly went off. We looked at each other, and then ran pell-mell down the alley.

They can be an action in the environment:

"Now I just need peaches, grapes, apples and--"

A shopping cart crashed into mine.

Sometimes you can even get away with the character's own thoughts interrupting their dialogue if they have a sudden realization.

"I don't know! Maybe it's something like--"

A jaguar, she suddenly realized. Yes, that fit perfectly!

Basically when a character is cut off in dialogue (or in some cases, even thoughts), you should indicate that with an em dash.

If action interrupts a complete sentence of dialogue, you set it off by em dashes:

"You said"--she wrenched open the car door--"that she would be safe!"

"You said that she would be safe" is a complete sentence, but "she wrenched open the car door" is an action, not a dialogue tag, so technically it should be set off like that example.

For a Sudden Change of Thought

Similarly, your character may sort of "interrupt" themselves in that they may have a sudden change of thought. In that case, use an em dash.

"If only--hey, want to go to dinner?" I asked.

This can sometimes happen out of dialogue if you are in deep viewpoint.

I slowly put down my bag. If only--maybe she'd want to go to dinner.

As a Counterpoint to Parentheses

Em dashes can also function like parentheses . . . but different.

Parentheses imply a sort of aside. I personally think of parentheses as the "whisper" equivalent of writing. It's additional information that is read "quieter," like having a friend whisper something to you when you are at a lecture.

Dashes can set information aside too, but rather than "whisper" it, it's being highlighted. It carries a little more intensity and tends to be read at a faster pace than parentheses. (Even though it may be additional, side information.)

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see--root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta--and piled them into his shopping basket.

Notice how this has a slightly slower, less intense feel when in parentheses:

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see (root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta) and piled them into his shopping basket.

Dashes are also a little different in that if you use a dash to set off the beginning or end part of a sentence, you don't need a second one. You only need two when you're setting off something in the middle of a sentence.

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see--root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta. He piled them into his shopping basket.

Root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta--he grabbed every kind of soda he could see. He piled them into his shopping basket.

With parentheses, you always need to close them.

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see (root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta). He piled them into his shopping basket.

And you typically don't start a sentence with parentheses, unless the entire sentence is in parentheses.

For Quick Emphasis

Similar to the last section, you can also use em dashes for quick impact.

You can use a dash to highlight or emphasize a single word.

There was only one place he dreamed of being--Hawaii

This can also work in places where parentheses typically won't (which is why I'm putting this in its own section).

Hawaii--it was the only place he dreamed of being.

Of course, you can do this with more than one word.

Joshua had two loves in life--Lucy and tater tots.

To Help Readability

Dashes can also be used to help make a sentence easier to read. This is usually done when a phrase set off by commas has a lot of its own commas within it.

When the medicine arrived, about two months, three stomach aches, five headaches, and six sleepless nights later, she felt so sick, she didn't know if she could keep the pills down, so she begged to be taken back to the hospital.

-->

When the medicine arrived--about two months, three stomach aches, five headaches, and six sleepless nights later--she felt so sick, she didn't know if she could keep the pills down, so she begged to be taken back to the hospital.

Like a lot of things in writing, you can argue that some of these sections overlap (because can't this dashed part just be put in parentheses? Or be considered an interruption?).

For Missing Text

This is sort of outdated and not something I recommend using except in special circumstances.

Sometimes the em dash is used to show that certain text has been left out. If you read some older books, like some of the classics, you may notice em dashes are used to avoid giving specific dates or names.

For example, in Jane Eyre, you will find text like this:

Mrs. Fairfax, Thornfield, near Millcote, ----shire.

Which is meant to say the place is called something shire.

Or you may find dates like this:

19----

So the story avoids giving a specific year.

Fiction today doesn't usually do that.

The em dash can also be used this way when the text is unknown. The only way I can see this working in fiction today, is if your character found a paper or something that was damaged so they could not make out the words properly. You might would write the note like this:

My dear ------,

Please come to m---- at t---- and bring ------

Sincerely,

----t

When used this way, two em dashes denote part of a missing word and three em dashes denote a whole word is missing.

It's completely possible to go through your whole writing career and never need to use em dashes this way.

Hyphens vs. En Dashes vs. Em Dashes

When people talk about "dashes," they are almost always talking about the em dash, which is what this whole article has been about, but there is also the en dash and the hyphen. En dashes are shorter than em dashes and hyphens are shorter than en dashes.

Hyphen (-), en dash (–), and em dash (—)

An en dash is about as long as the letter "n" and an em dash is about as long as the letter "m" (which is where they get their names).

The differences between the hyphen and the en dash can get a little fuzzy in the industry, so I'm going to pull from the The Chicago Manual of Style (which is what fiction uses) website and let them explain it.

The hyphen connects two things that are intimately related, usually words that function together as a single concept or work together as a joint modifier (e.g., tie-in, toll-free call, two-thirds).

The en dash connects things that are related to each other by distance, as in the May–September issue of a magazine; it’s not a May-September issue, because June, July, and August are also ostensibly included in this range. And in fact en dashes specify any kind of range, which is why they properly appear in indexes when a range of pages is cited (e.g., 147–48). En dashes are also used to connect a prefix to a proper open compound: for example, pre–World War II.

You probably don't need to worry too much about the differences between a hyphen and an en dash, so I don't recommend stressing about it. Just know they are different, and you can look them up if you really need to. And definitely don't go walking around like you are smarter than everyone because you can tell the difference between hyphens, en dashes, and em dashes.

How to Properly Write an Em Dash

You may notice now that you don't actually have an em dash key on your keyboard. You have a hyphen. This often gets used as both a hyphen and an en dash. To denote an em dash, you hit that key twice (--); today, most word processors will automatically turn that into an em dash (—).

In the traditional, standard manuscript format, em dashes are written as --. This is in part because SMF uses a Courier font, where every character is the same width, so technically a hyphen is going to look the same as an em dash, so you need to use two hyphens to indicate an em dash. You can also use two hyphens to indicate an em dash when automatic reformatting is unavailable. You've probably noticed on my blog that I usually use -- for my em dashes. My blogging platform does not reformat them to em dashes, and I have much better things to do than copy and paste them all in. Besides, there is nothing "wrong" with using --, technically speaking. It's just if something is going to be professionally printed, you should use —.

In fiction, there should be no spaces before or after the em dash.

Wrong:

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see — root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta — and piled them into his shopping basket.

Correct:

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see—root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta—and piled them into his shopping basket.

Also Fine:

He grabbed every kind of soda he could see--root beer, cream, orange, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Sprite, even grape Fanta--and piled them into his shopping basket.

(But reformat for professional printing)

And that's about all you need to know about em dashes for fiction writing.

*This is based on U.S. styles, and I’m not sure if em dashes are written differently elsewhere.

#writing tips #writing tip #writing tips and tricks #fanfic #fanfiction #writeblr #writing advice #writing reference #writing help #writing helps #author #editor #nanowrimo #punctuation

187 notes · View notes

dabblinginmarvel · 6 years

Text

When We First Met (Part 5)

Plot: Steve tries his luck over and over again to win the reader’s heart, despite living the same day over and over again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: This is the end, everyone! Thanks for taking the trip with Steve and I! Open for an epilogue, if you’d like!

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 1019

Long Imagine #23

Title: When We First Met

Part 5

“I’m sure if it will be a problem, I can assign another agent,” Nick Fury offered.

Steve nodded slowly. “I think that might be best.”

“Then Agent Y/L/N might be best for this scenario.”

Steve fought to keep a smile off his face. “Okay.”

You greeted him much like Sharon and went through the motions, doing his best to make a great first impression. When the time came, he insisted you tell Sharon that she needs to get in touch with a Grant Ward, ignoring the look of confusion and playing it off as a hallway rumor and his super soldier hearing.

When he woke up next, he was surprised to see himself on a nice couch. He looked around and realized it was Sam’s couch.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Sam turned around, breakfast burrito half in his mouth. “Y/N? You mean Sharon’s friend? I don’t know, probably enjoying their weekend? You haven’t talked about them for a long time, what is up with you?”

“I was thinking about fate.”

“Fate is a tricky lady. When you try to figure her out, you just get more confused. All I know is the mistakes I've made and the ladies I've laid have made me who I am today. If I were to go back and

relive it differently, I wouldn't be me. And I like me.” Sam shrugged and leaned back against the counter.

Steve groaned and threw a pillow to his face before hopping up and racing to get dressed so he could run over to where your place should be. He shifted his weight between his feet while he waited for you to open the door.

“Steve. What are you doing here?” you asked, your brow furrowed.

He cleared his throat. “I-I came to see you.”

“Why? We haven’t talked in almost two years.”

“What?” His chest ached.

“Yeah. Two years.”

“Was it my fault?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me – I’m off to a date.”

His heart felt like a dagger was stabbed through and through his torso. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He stepped away from the door and you walked out, locking the door behind you.

“Look, Steve, when we tried to get together, it may not have been the right time. But we may never know, now.” You patted his arm, then walked down the townhouse steps and walked away, not looking back.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, before he remembered it was Sharon and Grant’s engagement party day.

He took a taxi over, the anxiety not leaving, and then knocked on the door. Sharon and Grant answered the door, looking confused.

“Steve, what’s going no? are you alright, you missed the party yesterday.” Sharon asked.

Steve’s anxiety intensified. “I missed it?”

She nodded and allowed him in.

“I’m sorry, Sharon. I don’t know how I forgot it.”

“it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“I went to visit Y/N, but she moved on a long time ago.”

Sharon gave him a sympathetic look, but he waved and left.

“I can’t believe I missed the party.” He stopped, then groaned. “I set them up early.”

You were gone and didn’t love him. Maybe he was destined to not find love. Maybe he should give up.

Maybe he should do everything as he originally had and wait to ask you out.

That was it. that was what he had to do.

The photobooth was gone. It had been replaced by a new one. He felt his stomach crawl up his throat and ordered a Sprite soda.

“Steve.” A lady put her hand on his shoulder and he spun around, spilling a little of his soda on his knee. It was just Sharon with Grant right behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Wallowing in the sorrows of a bad day. What are you doing here?”

“We came to see you play. That’s what you’ve been doing for a few years? And you missed our party last night. We’re worried about you, Steve.”

He shrugged. “Everything’s fine, I’ve lost the girl, I’ve messed up the future, I can’t even find the old photobooth.”

“The photobooth?” Grant asked incredulously.

Sharon chuckled lightly. “Oh, it’s at your house, did you forget? Do you have any idea what we had to do to get that thing?”

“Y-you did? Why?”

“Because we’re best friends?”

“It all makes sense now. I have to do it the right way so I can finish this correctly.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Grant asks.

“Yeah, long day, sorry. I have to go!” He ran out.

Upon arrival home, he jumped into the photobooth and threw a quarter in.

He woke up and ran through everything as it had been the first time. The game, busting out the wall, bumping shoulders with Sharon, running straight into Times Square.

Sharon came forward from the cars alongside Nick and Steve went along with the day as it had originally been.

He walked past you in the hallway and you were entranced with an agent, but he didn’t stop for you.

The next day when he woke up, he was in his bed and a reminder was flashing on his phone:

SHARON AND GRANT’S ENGAGEMENT PARTY, 2 PM

“Yes!”

He raced through the day to get to the party.

“And that was the perfect night.”

He smiled, then went for a small cup of punch, knowing you would be over there at that moment with your camera.

“Candid!” you said from behind him.

Steve smiled as you took the picture. You look at the photo.

“Hey, you don’t look so terrible.” You showed him and he gingerly held it before taking a quick photo of you. “Steven! You delete that right now.”

“Why, when you look so pretty?”

You snatched the camera from him and looked at the photo. “You know, you may actually have a knack for this candid thing?”

“Thanks, Y/N.” He went to turn away, but turned back to you. “Hey, did you want to go get a drink?”

“What, you mean ditch?”

“Yeah. They don’t need us anymore.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You smiled and followed him out.

- - -

When We First Met Masterlist: @fuckthatfeeling, @lovely-geek

Masterlist

Permanent Tag List (please alert me if you change your username, want to be tagged for only one character, or if you want to be untagged): @abbybills22, @breezy1415, @coffeebooksandfandom, @cxptain-americaa, @deceivedeer, @dreamer821, @everything-but-the-not-natural, @elxrini, @fangirling-equestrian, @feelmyroarrrr, @hellomissmabel, @httpmcrvel, @iamwarrenspeace, @kudosia, @m4df4n, @marrvelle-fics, @mindlessnerd89, @ms-cellanies, @mylittlefandomfanfictions, @space-helen, @susiejustsusie, @tea-with-loki, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @wkndfrvr, @wxnchestervevo (tag list is open!!)

Strikethroughs are blogs I can’t tag.

Reminder, if your name is not linked and you are not getting notifications you have been tagged, please refer to this guide here: https://dabblinginmarvel.tumblr.com/post/168371559776/strikethroughs-i-cant-tag

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #when we first met miniseries #long imagine

44 notes · View notes

nazariolahela · 4 years

Text

Something Domestic: Chapter 12

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @beardedoafdonutwagon @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney @superharrietsuper @custaroonie @lady-calypso @ritachacha @olympianpantsuit @desiree-0816 @the-soot-sprite @kate-mckenzie @narrytheworld @octobereighth

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Riley and Liam become “official,” but a shocking revelation threatens to destroy their relationship.

I stand in the kitchen of Liam’s penthouse, going over my plans for today. It’s only been a day since the divorce became final, but it feels like things are starting to look up. Liam and Madeleine worked out a schedule to take the kids every other week. This week is Madeleine’s week. She dropped them off at Liam’s house this morning before heading to work. I showed up for my shift shortly after. The schedule is set up for me to take Charlotte to school, spend my day with Philip, and then she picks them up at 5:30 p.m. Everyone agreed this would be the smoothest transition for the kids.

As I put the final touches on my itinerary, my mind wanders to last night with Liam. I’ve been replaying it over and over again in my mind all morning. His touch. His passion. How good our bodies felt together. I almost orgasm just thinking about it. I hear Liam’s footsteps approaching and turn to find him entering the kitchen. He wraps his arms around my waist and whispers into my hair. “You busy tomorrow night?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Comfy pants. Junk food. Real Housewives.”

He smirks. “Sounds good. But what if I can offer you good food, good company, and really good sex?”

I blush. Is it hot in here? Or is it just him? “I’m listening.”

“Let me take you out on a date. I’ll wine you, dine you…” he grins seductively. “...well, you know the rest.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet my lips. “You had me at good food.”

He groans and grabs my ass, lifting me up, and sets me on the kitchen island. His hands slip under my blouse, his fingers tracing up my sides, and toying with the lace of my bra. I tug on his tie and take his bottom lip in my teeth. “Where are you planning on taking me, Mr. Rhys? So I know what to wear tonight.”

“Well, if all goes as planned, you won’t be wearing anything. But if you must know, I’m taking you to Masa, so dress accordingly.”

My eyes widen. Masa is one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. It’s also considered one of the most expensive restaurants in the world. One meal will set you back around $500-$600 and the waitlist for reservations is at least three weeks out. I wonder to myself how he was able to score a table at a place like that, but then I remember his family pretty much owns the city. He notices my expression and smiles.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re worth it and I want to spoil you. Let me have this.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “But just this once. You don’t need to spend that much money on me. We could hit up the drive-thru at McDonald's and I’d be happy.”

“I know. That’s what I like about you. Now, get your sexy ass upstairs and get my kids up. I’ll pick you up at your place at 8 p.m. tomorrow.” He steals one more kiss before helping me down off the island. I make my way upstairs and get the kids ready for the day. Once they’re both dressed and fed, we head off to school.

After dropping off Charlotte, Philip and I hit up the “T.Rex: The Ultimate Predator” exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. The place is buzzing with groups of school children chaperoned by adults. I keep Philip close to me as we make our way through the crowd. As we walk by a 12-foot-tall skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus rex, he tugs on my hand to get my attention.

“Riley? Do you think he comes to life at night?”

“What?”

“T-Rex. Does he come to life and play fetch?”

I give him a confused look. “He’s extinct, buddy. And has been for about about 65 million years.”

He looks back at me and gruffs in annoyance. “In Night at the Museum, he comes alive and plays fetch with Larry. He also drinks from the fountain.”

Whoops. Guess I didn’t see that movie. Feeling like a total dumbass, I grab Philip’s hand and guide him to the next exhibit.

After our daily ice cream stop, we pick up Charlotte from school. She tells me about an upcoming field trip her class is having and hands me a permission slip looking for chaperones. I wonder if nannies can even chaperone school field trips. When we get back to the penthouse, I set the kids up in the playroom with art supplies and watch them paint. Philip paints images of dinosaurs and Charlotte paints a dog. My mind wanders to my date with their father tomorrow night and the butterflies in my stomach start fluttering up a storm. Holy shit. I need to find something to wear. I fish my phone out of my tote bag and give Hana a call. She picks up on the second ring.

“Ohmygods, Hana. I need your help. Liam is taking me to Masa tomorrow night and I have no idea what to wear. What’s the dress code like for a place like that? Is it black tie? Can I wear my sponsorship dinner dress again?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down. What time is he picking you up?”

“8 p.m.”

She chuckles. “Okay, we can work with that. Meet me at Carmina at 6 p.m. tonight and I’ll help you pick something out that will blow his mind.”

“You’re a lifesaver, girl. What would I do without you?”

“Well, your rent would be much higher, that’s for sure,” she says with a laugh.

We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I return to the kids. When Madeleine arrives home a few hours later, I bid farewell and hail a cab to Carmina. I pull up outside the store and see Hana and Meghan leaning outside the store, locked in a loving embrace. My heart bursts at the sight of my best friend finally finding her happily ever after. Hana notices me approaching and smiles.

“You ready to find a gown that will make this guy fall in love with you?” she asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I want to find something that will make him want to skip dinner altogether.” She rolls her eyes and turns to Meghan and the two share a knowing look. “Okay, Lovebirds,” I laugh. “Let’s go inside and find me a dress.”

The three of us enter the boutique and began browsing the racks. While Hana continues to search for a dress, Meghan approaches with a few draped over her arm and ushers me to an open dressing room. As I begin to disrobe, I hear her speak from the other side of the door.

“Hey, Riley? What are Hana’s parents like?”

I stop dead in my tracks. Oh shit. “Uh...they’re ...they’re interesting.”

She sighs. “You don’t have to sugar coat it for me. She told me they don’t know she’s gay. It’s just that she wants me to meet them tomorrow night and I think she wants to tell them about us. I want to know what I’m walking into.”

Half-dressed, I open the door and move toward her. “Honestly, they’re kind of overbearing. They’ve been trying to set her up with this guy for the better part of a year. She’s told them numerous times that she’s not interested, but they keep pushing this narrative that she needs to be a wife and a mother to be happy. Especially her mom. I think she’s afraid that Hana’s going to die an old maid, so she’s trying to find her a husband before it’s too late. It’s not an excuse, but I wonder if she thinks Hana isn’t capable of finding happiness on her own.”

Meghan nods. “I remember how it was for me when I came out to my family. I guess I’m just wondering how they’re going to react. I’m glad Hana has someone like you to support her.” She leans in and gives me a bone-crushing hug then walks out of the dressing room to find her girlfriend.

After trying on half a dozen dresses, I finally decide on a sexy sequined charcoal gray number with a plunging neckline. Liam is going to lose his shit when he sees me in this. And the best part; it’s on sale, so if it gets “damaged” at the end of the evening, at least I’m not out that much money.

***

It’s just before 8 p.m. Friday night when I hear a knock on my apartment door. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and make my way to the door. He stands on the other side, looking absolutely breathtaking in a dark suit. His blue eyes sparkle as they travel the length of my body. So glad I went with this dress.

“You look beautiful,” he says in a low voice.

“So do you.”

He takes my hand in his and leads me downstairs to the limo. He opens the door for me, but stops me before I enter, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. I feel my cheeks heat. His eyes study me, taking in every detail of my face. Suddenly, he looks away and clears his throat while adjusting himself. “We should go. We don’t want to miss our reservation.”

I smirk and climb into the limo. He climbs in behind me, and once we’re driving, I find myself trying not to stare at him. He notices me watching him and gives me a wink as he takes my hand in his and sets it on his thigh.

Twenty agonizing minutes and one steamy make-out session later, we arrive at the restaurant. The maître d' greets Liam like they’re old friends and the hostess shows us to our table. The tables are lit by single candles and soft music fills the air. A bottle of champagne sits in a bucket next to our table. Liam grabs it and pops the cork, pouring two glasses.

“Wow...this is fancy,” I say, sipping my champagne.

“I’m glad you like it.”

I look around, noticing servers taking orders from the other tables. “Where are our menus? What’s good here?”

Liam smiles. “Actually, there are no menus to order from. Only chef-selected meals prepared by Chef Masa Takayama himself.”

I nearly spit out my champagne. Oh, gods. This is one of those restaurants. I suddenly feel extremely uncomfortable. Liam notices me shifting in my seat and reaches across the table, placing his hand on top of mine.

“Hey. It’s okay. I know this seems like a lot, but you’re important to me and I want to show you that.”

“You didn’t have to bring me to a place like this though. I’d be happy at Applebee’s.”

He fake scoffs. “Applebee’s? Only peasants eat that crap.” I roll my eyes and he brings my hand to his lips, placing a kiss on it. “I’m kidding. If you’re really that uncomfortable here, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Just say the word.”

I smile. This man is willing to give up his exclusive reservation for me. How did I get so lucky? “No, it’s okay. We can stay here. I already got dressed up. It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

The reflection of the candlelight dances across his face and he watches me intently as I sip my champagne. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “What do you say we order our food to go and take this back to my place?”

We stumble into the penthouse, kissing and running our hands along each other’s bodies when a voice interrupts us.

“Is this what you do when you’re supposed to be watching my kids?” I turn around to see Madeleine standing in the kitchen, a look of pure rage on her face.

Liam steps away from me and addresses her, his tone laced with anger. “What are you doing here? And where are Philip and Charlotte?”

“They’re with Rashad, and don’t worry about what I’m doing here. What are you doing? The nanny? Really, Liam?”

“At least it wasn’t with one of my co-workers. While I was still married.”

“No, just the woman entrusted to look after our children,” she sneers.

Awkwardly, I make my way toward the door. “I...I think I’m gonna go.”

“I don’t think so, bitch!” Madelene snaps. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you will not jeopardize my children’s safety for a fucking payday.”

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Madeleine snorts. “Don’t play dumb. It’s unbecoming.” She retrieves a magazine from her purse and slams it down with force on the coffee table. “This,” she says. Liam’s eyes go wide. I look down at the magazine and feel the color drain from my face. No, please no.

Ohmygods, this is my worst nightmare. How could this happen? I look at Liam and his face falls. “Riley? What is this?”

“What do you think it is?” Madeleine says. “She sold us out to the fucking tabloids.”

“What? No! I-I swear… I had nothing to do with this.” I turn back to Liam. He continues to stare at the magazine, his face void of any emotion. “Liam? Liam, listen to me. I don’t know how this got out, but I didn’t leak this. I swear on everything we have.”

Madeleine laughs dryly. “You expect me to believe that? You were the only person besides our families who knew about this. Don’t think I don’t know about your little obsession with these trash rags. You left one laying on the kitchen table a few weeks ago. And Mara said she buys them for you every week. What? Did you think you could just sell details of our private lives to the tabloids, and then fuck my ex-husband and everything would be cool? How much did they pay you? I hope it was worth it.”

My voice shakes. “Ma-Madeleine. I swear. I didn’t leak this.” A lone tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. “Liam, please. You have to believe me. I would never do this to you. To Philip and Charlotte. I care about them. I would never put them in danger.” He continues to stare at the magazine, not speaking or making eye contact with me.

“I want you out. Turn in your keycard. You are officially relieved of your duties.”

“Madeleine, please...”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re fired. You’re lucky we don’t take your ass to court and sue you for publishing private facts about our family. And you are to have no contact with my children or I will have you arrested for stalking.”

Mara appears to escort me out and I sob loudly, losing all control. I retrieve my keycard from my purse and hand it to her. She frowns and places her hand on my arm, guiding me to the elevator. The ride down to the lobby is quiet except for my cries. I wonder why Liam didn’t come to my rescue. Does he actually believe that I leaked the story to the press? It’s hard to tell when he just stood there and said nothing as Madeleine ripped me a new one.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Brooks,” Mara says as she escorts me out of the lobby and into the street. She stands guard until an Uber arrives to take me home.

I get into the car and break down. The tears stream down my face as I lean my head against the glass, watching the penthouse disappear into the distance. Before tonight, I had a great job and a man that I could possibly see myself falling in love with.

Now, I have neither.

#something domestic #trr au #nanny au #trr fanfic #riley brooks #liam rhys #playchoices fanfic #nazariolahela fanfic

61 notes · View notes

pixelgrotto · 5 years

Photo

The deductive point ‘n click escapades of a forgotten southern belle Adventure games of the point ‘n click variety are a genre that tend to feature female protagonists more often than others. Why this is the case, I’m not entirely sure - it might have something to do with the stereotype that women are more patient, more willing to read and perhaps better at solving puzzles than men. Or, perhaps legendary adventure game designer Roberta Williams’ influence still holds strong, at least on a subconscious level in the minds of designers, over the genre that she helped nourish in the 80s and 90s, and the heroines of today’s games are merely following in the footsteps of fine women that preceded them, like Rosella of Daventry in King’s Quest IV. Whatever the reason, despite there being quite a few point ‘n clickers popping up these days with engaging female protagonists (Kathy Rain is one that I played early this year and enjoyed), there’s a 1920s southern belle who probably deserved a long-lasting series but only got two games which are somewhat overlooked these days. Her name is Laura Bow, and she served as the protagonist of two Sierra titles that were released in 1989 and 1992 - The Colonel’s Bequest and The Dagger of Amon Ra.

Laura seems to have been specifically patterned after famous silent film actress Clara Bow, but at her heart she’s more like a slightly older version of Nancy Drew, and her two games embody Nancy’s fine tradition of mystery solving. The Colonel’s Bequest takes place on a private island in the bayous of New Orleans as Laura accompanies a friend and fellow Tulane University student for a weekend getaway at the manor of her uncle, Colonel Dijon. The old man is bequeathing his fortune to relatives and has invited a motley assortment of characters right out of an Agatha Christie paperback - the drunk aunt, the conceited Hollywood starlet, the perverted doctor who seems to have a thing for betting on the ponies - and a la Clue, bodies start piling up as the relatives presumably begin offing themselves in order to get Dijon’s fortune first.

I mentioned Roberta Williams previously, and The Colonel’s Bequest was actually designed by her as one of those rare side projects that didn’t feature the words “King’s” and “Quest” in the title. (Hm, I suppose it’s called The Colonel’s Bequest, so scratch that.) It’s always hard to tell how much Roberta was involved in non-King’s Quest projects - The Dagger of Amon Ra, for instance, was directed by Bruce Balfour despite featuring her name on the box - but I’d wager that she intended The Colonel’s Bequest to be a spiritual remake of her very first adventure game (and indeed, the first graphical adventure game ever), Mystery House. Mystery House featured a similar murder plot, and The Colonel’s Bequest takes this concept and evolves it, offering a unique structure where there aren’t really any puzzles to solve but instead “scenes” to witness. The entire game is structured like a play - there’s even a cast curtain call in the beginning - and Laura is encouraged to spend as much time as possible talking with the potential murder suspects and finding unique ways to eavesdrop on them.

The game’s manual makes a huge deal about this emphasis on observing the story and slowly figuring out the links between characters in an effort to deduce the killer, and we can look at Johnny L. Wilson’s 1990 review of the game in Computer Gaming World as an example of how this approach was seen as admirable, fresh and also a bit risky at the time. Don’t let the fact that there aren’t many puzzles fool you into thinking that The Colonel’s Bequest is easy, though - it’s just as tough as Sierra’s other adventures with just as many nonsensical ways to die, and the unique structure where certain events and conversations are “timed” (indicated on screen by a clock) means that sometimes you’ll be wandering around aimlessly searching for the next thing to do, or possibly miss out on vital bits of info because you weren’t at the right place at the right time. It’s a little like The Last Express, only less refined.

Luckily, the game’s great atmosphere makes up for any shortcomings that its boldly unorthodox but occasionally clunky design creates. This is one of the best 16 color titles that Sierra produced with their SC10 engine, and the soundtrack is packed with jazzy songs influenced by the Roaring Twenties with just enough sense to know when to be quiet as well. As you navigate Laura across the silent grounds of the mansion in the dead of night, wondering where the killer might be, it’s very possible to get shaken by the sound of lightning bursting in the background, and I can certainly imagine young players in 1989 jumping out of their skin when they encountered such moments.

Laura’s next outing, The Dagger of Amon Ra, trades the dark island setting for the Egyptology craze of the 20s, and loses a little bit in the process but makes up for it with 256 colors, rotoscoped animations (which are darn smooth but cause character sprites to be a bit muddy, unfortunately) and an even catchier selection of jazz tunes, including an amusing vocal track called “The Archaeologist Song.” Oh, and the CD version is a “talkie” game, with performances that range from kinda terrible (Sierra was still having their employees voice these games at the time instead of hiring actors) to excellent (Laura’s got a cute southern accent and the narrator’s voice is heavenly).

The plot revolves around the titular Dagger of Amon Ra, an Egyptian artifact that’s been stolen from a New York City museum. Laura, now a fresh grad from Tulane and in the middle of her first journalism assignment at an NYC paper, has to navigate the mean streets of Manhattan, infiltrate a speakeasy and chat with a mildly racist caricature of a Chinese laundromat owner before getting into the museum, where she once again encounters a wide cast of characters, from the stuck up British twat who removed the dagger from Egypt to the nutty countess, who is possibly engaged in some mild robbery efforts around the museum when nobody’s looking. People start dying pretty soon (and their death scenes are grand - check out this poor SOB who got decapitated and stuck with a Perodactyl beak) and while the beginning section of the game outside of the museum is more like a traditional point ‘n click affair, once you’re locked inside the building after the first murder, everything becomes reminiscent of The Colonel’s Bequest. You’ve got to meander about, hope you bumble upon the right conversations and try your best to piece together clues before the murderer suddenly starts chasing you during the game’s second-to-last chapter.

The Dagger of Amon Ra kind of stumbles in its execution of this form of gameplay more than its predecessor, because all the chapters of museum exploration feel terribly disjointed even more than walking around Colonel Dijon’s mansion did. Also, the character motivations are unclear, which is a problem in a mystery game - especially one where the entire final chapter actually involves Laura being quizzed by the coroner in an annoying game of 20 Questions as to the identity and motives of the killer! If you slip up once during this finale, you’ll get the bad ending, which involves the killer finding Laura’s apartment and GUNNING HER IN HER SLEEP, jinkies. And even if you succeed and get the good ending, which sees Laura writing her first award-winning expose on the theft and hooking up with putzy love interest Steve Dorian, it’s still quite impossible to discern the killer’s motives and why he went about his nefarious deeds, because The Dagger of Amon Ra just...doesn’t explain things. I’m not the only one who had trouble figuring it out - The Adventure Gamer blog wrote up a fantastic series of posts about this game and came to the same confused reaction as I did.

Both Laura Bow adventures come from an older time where it was common to take notes as you went through a game, so perhaps my puzzlement at The Dagger of Amon Ra’s ending is due to my lack of pencil and paper by my side as I played. I did use walkthroughs for both games, though, and if you do end up checking them out (they’re available on GOG), I’d recommend doing the same. You probably still won’t be able to figure out why whatshisname stole that dagger, but despite their flaws, the Laura Bow games really are worth experiencing. Laura’s a likeable lead (just look at this adorable expression on her face as she stumbles upon the museum’s French skank engaged in hanky panky with the janitor) and she does a fine job of showing off the spirit of the 20s, an underrepresented period in the pantheon of electronic gaming.

Laura never got a third game, and as far as mystery franchises go, Sierra soon passed the torch to the Gabriel Knight series, which apparently takes place in the same universe, since Gabriel visits Tulane in Sins of the Fathers and hears word of a lecture being given by “Laura Bow Dorian” - a hint that Laura married Steve Dorian and lived happily ever after! I’m glad that Ms. Bow got a nice ending even if we couldn’t see it in game form, and I’m sure that if she were a real person, she would be pleased to see spiritual successors of sorts like the aforementioned Kathy Rain following in her footsteps today.

This is perhaps a good place to mention The Crimson Diamond, an upcoming indie game in the works by Canadian illustrator Julia Minamata. I recently played through the demo and am eagerly awaiting the full release - it’s almost like a direct sequel of The Colonel’s Bequest with an alternate universe version of Laura. Rest assured, Ms. Bow - even if your adventures aren’t as remembered these days as they should be, the example you set of the enterprising female gumshoe is alive, well and in good hands!

All box art and screenshots from Mobygames.

#pixel grotto #video games #favorites #laura bow #colonels bequest #dagger of amon ra #sierra online #roberta williams

6 notes · View notes

demivampirew · 4 years

Text

Dry-leaves

(photos taken from Pinterest. Credits to the owners//collage made by me)

Henry x 1st person reader one shot.

A/N: First of all, I want to thank the people who showed me a lot of love in the post that I explained who I felt these last few days about writing (and in general). I decided to push through the negative thoughts and write. I used the mood I was in to write this one shot. Even thought this character is fictional, there are plenty of things for my personal experience I used for her background. I tried to make it a feel good story, but the issues reader thinks about are pretty real.

Triggers: depression; family drama; stress (college, job, family)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

The sound of the dry-leaves crunching as I step over them made me tingle and relax. I've been so stressed lately that I often forget to appreciate the beauty of the simple things like this.

If I have to be honest, I never truly value the little pleasures nature gift us: the Orage-ish leaves falling from the trees covering the floor and grass on Autumn; the cosiness of watching a movie while covering yourself with a blanket in the cold winter. The display of beautiful and vibrant colours of the blooming flowers in the spring, which release an often delicious and refreshing scent and, the longer days in the summer filled with sunshine.

When I was younger, my parents set this expectation that the only way to succeed in life was to get a degree in college and find a well-paid job; so, as I grew up I became more and more obsessed with the idea of achieving this goal, that I completely ignored important things in life: my happiness being the main one. Unconsciously, I convinced myself that all I wanted in life was to get a degree, I thought that was my ultimate destiny. It was only the moment when I felt as if I was drowning when I realized that the only reason I was working hard on graduating from college was to make my parents happy, or to be more specific, not to disappoint them.

In life, there always that point when you're doing something you don't want to do, even if you pressured yourself to believe that it is, and you finally realized that that's not for you. My moment came last year when I was in a job that made me extremely unhappy and to top that, I was -for the third time in my life- in college trying hard to keep up with it and don't give up like the times before. I worked almost every day and with all I had to study for classes, I didn't have the time to do the simple things in life that I adore: watching my favourite shows and movies, listen to music I like, read books or see my friends. I achieve a level of unhappiness, that I would go to sleep every night wishing never to wake up again. I was done with my job, college and life.

Thankfully, there was a part of me that still believed in the possibility of a happy future and that's what gave me the energy to rescue myself from that dark hole. I started therapy, sought for a new job and decided to quit college - at least for now, maybe someday, when things are different and I have more time or maybe when I'm older I'll give it another try if I want to. But, the most important thing is that for the first time I would do what I wish; I'll work hard on building the life I want for me and not what others, my parents, for example, want for me. I might not be in my early twenties anymore, I might be at the age in which society expects you to have your life figured out and just starting to work on the future I want, but it's ok. It's ok just to walk through the park, enjoying watching the wind carry the falling tree-leaves and the little bear play with them, rolling over them and barking at the kids playing as if he was asking permission to join them.

"Here's your hot chocolate, babe," Henry said, handing me a Starbucks coffee cup full of a steamy milky infusion. He chuckled as he saw Kal play with two boys and a girl -the boys around ten and the girl must have been around five or six years old.

I met him a year ago at this same park. He saw me sitting on a bench, crying while I looked at my phone. The reason behind my tears was that I received a message from my mum telling me how disappointed she was for my decision of quitting college - it wasn't like me that was not the exact answer I expected from her, but still hurt to see her words. Henry asked me what was wrong and then sat next to me and had a long chat about life and how he dealt with the negative opinions others had of him. That day I thanked him and walked away, thinking that I'll never see him again. As it turns out, he walked his furry best mate in that park every single chance he got. Me on the other hand, I would go every now and then to that place because I found it hauntingly beautiful and peaceful. It's in a fancy neighbourhood and a bit far for the place I live, but it filled me with good energy so I didn't mind having to travel for an hour or so to get there to be able to enjoy its beauty.

The second time we saw each other was almost a month after that afternoon. I immediately recognized that unique creature that was the Akita and sought for his human with my eyes. And there he was, sitting alone on the same bench we met, watching his dog with an enormous smile on his face. I went into the Starbucks nearby and bought a coffee for him and a latte for me. Thankfully he was still there went I came back from the coffee-shop. Giving the fact that we spent an entire afternoon talking, I was sure he would remember me, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that he remembered my name as well. We chat for hours again, only this time the topics were more cheerful. That time he was the one who left first, but not without asking for my number first. For the following weeks, there wasn't a day we would not text each other, talking about absolutely everything: from games, books and movies, to family, friends, and ambitions in life. After a few weeks, he finally asked me out - I was dying for him to do that, but I wasn't exactly expecting him to do so, after all, he was a breath-taking gorgeous and very famous man and me, just a simple girl in her late twenties trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and "breath-taking" isn't exactly an adjective that could be used to describe myself, simple and pretty enough could be more accurate - I might not be ugly, but for sure I'm not a femme fatale.

Living with my parents as I got closer to be thirty wasn't exactly an issue for my age, but rather because I decided to quit college. If I ever wanted to get better, I needed to live in another place, which is extremely difficult when you don't have a big salary. I earned enough money for expenses and other things but I could not afford to rent a flat. Henry offered to help me but I refused at first, until I couldn't stand to be in the house I lived anymore. It was then when I decided to accept his alternative proposal: to move in with him. This option was better than the other 1) because it wouldn't cost him any extra money and 2) we would be able to spend more time together.

"Thanks, baby, " I replied after grabbing the hot chocolate and took a couple of sips. My right arm grabbed his left one and we walked around the park, always keeping an eye on Kal as the bear played with those kids.

I'm happy to know that it's ok to not have things figured out. It's ok to take your time to enjoy the simple things in life. And when someone gives you a hand and tries to help you when you need it the most, you're not less independent, weak for accepting it.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x 1st person reader #henry cavill fluff #demivampirew

76 notes · View notes

lovemychoices · 5 years

Text

Before There Was You- CH.6

TRR X ROE

Song Inspiration: 5sos - Ghost of You

Three years ago while travelling in Europe, Eve Sommers was involved in a car accident. She woke up from her coma two weeks later with no memory of what happened to her in the past seven months. Three years later and still no recollection about what happened to her before the accident. But all of that is about to change. Will she finally know the truth? Will there be consequences?

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 1700++

Chapter Summary: We time jump three months after the masquerade ball. The court are officially in Lynthikos and the snowy atmosphere takes Leo back to a certain memory.

A/N : This is my first fiction series so it will definitely not be 100% perfect. In other words be kind :). Feedback and comments are welcomed, also hit that reblog button if you like what you read.

Catch up with the series HERE

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that you are 18 and above.

Tags : @thecordoniandiaries @leelee10898 @ao719 @annekebbphotography

@desiree-0816 @rainbowsinthestorm @emceesynonymroll @the-soot-sprite @carabeth @cora-nova @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @jlpplays1 @pixieferry @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jessiembruno @romanticatheart-posts

[[More]]

“Wow, Hana! You never told me you were an amazing figure skater.” Eve cheers as she watched Hana do a Biellmann spin on the frozen lake. The group arrived Lynthikos a few hours ago and Olivia had scheduled for them to go ice skating on the lake near the estate.

Hana chuckles. “Oh , it was nothing, I learned that move when I was seven, though my skating instructor always said my spins where a bit sloppy.”

“Aww Hana, I think you were amazing despite what your instructors said, right Olivia? She affirmed and gave Olivia a nudge. “Meh, She wasn’t bad.” Olivia smirks.

“Ladies..” Liam beamed when greeted them as he and Maxwell approached the three. “My prince.” Eve smiles and kisses Liam on the cheek.

“Ugh barf..” Olivia cringed followed by sarcastic eye rolls. “I’m going to skate over there where the view is less nauseating.” She points then skates away towards Penelope and Kiara, who were skating or at least trying to.

“Hey Hana, watch me do the ice skating version of the moonwalk.” Maxwell says excitedly trying his best to impersonate the moves in his skate. Hana looks between Eve and Liam then at Maxwell. “I’d better go check on Maxwell before he hurts himself.”

“Subtle..” She grins.

Liam chuckles. “As long as we have some time to ourselves, I’m not complaining. Shall we?” He asks offering his hand. Eve smiles and takes his hand, the two begin skating side by side with their hands intertwined.

“Did I mention how lovely you look today.” Liam grins.

“No you haven’t and thank you.” She winks playfully. “So do you and the court come here often?”

“Not often, but when we do Olivia is always a generous hostess. I did use to come here a lot when I was a child. Leo and I used to have a snowball fight with Drake even Olivia would join us.”

“Leo right, I forgot about him.” She rolls her eyes, her expression suddenly dim.

Liam brows creased, he noticed a change in her tone and the way her body shifted when she said his brothers name. He stops in his skate and pulls her closely while he tilts her chin up. “Eve is something wrong?” He asks sincerely.

Her lips formed a thin line followed by an exasperated sigh. “Look it’s no big deal, it’s just that I think Leo doesn’t like me very much.”

“Why would you say something like that? You’ve been nothing but wonderful throughout your stay in Cordonia. Even Olivia is starting to warm up to you.” He chuckles. “‘Maybe it’s just some misunderstanding.

“I’m serious Liam, everytime I enter the room when the gang is hanging out he sees me and suddenly there’s always an excuse for him to leave. He doesn’t even stop say HI or make eye contact. It’s been two months you’d think the guy would warm up to me by now.. Heck! Like you said even Olivia is already treating me like a friend in her own way.” She looks Liam in the eye. “Normally I wouldn’t care what people think but he is your brother, he’s your family. it’s important to me that we get along.”

Liam heaves a sigh. “I’ll try to have a talk with him okay? In the meantime I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, you’re a very hard person to not like Eve Sommers.” He grins while placing his hand on the small of her back and pulling her into a kiss.

***

As the sun began to set and the day began to turn dark, snow began to fall on the estate. Everyone in court gathered in the great hall for some eclairs and hot chocolate by the fire.

Leo sat in the library by the window watching as the snow fell from the night sky while taking a sip of his scotch. His mind drifted to three years ago in Finland.

Three years ago - Kakslauttanen, Finland

Leo and Eve lay on their bed cuddled up with each other. They had both been seeing each other for a few months and decided to head to Finland for their next adventure. Eve wanted to see the aurora borealis which was on her bucket list of things to do during her trip in Europe so Leo rented an igloo shaped room made out of glass.

It was the perfect romantic getaway, they could watch the constellations in the night sky while waiting for the aurora to appear all in the comfort of their warm bed under the glass dome surrounding them.

“Okay, how about that one?” Eve pointed to a wishbone shape group of stars. “That’s Perseus and that—.” Leo pointed to the star next to it. “Is Andromeda's line.”

Eve cocked an eyebrow. “I’m assuming this has some romantic Greek tragedy story written behind it?”

Leo chuckles. “No tragedy at least for them. Andromeda’s parents were going to sacrifice her to the monster Cetus when Perseus came and save her, they fell in love, got married and lived happily ever after.”

Leo turned propping one hand on the side of his head. “But if you’re interested in tragic romantic stories.” He grinned and looked back up at the sky through the glass window. “There that one.” He pointed towards the group of stars that looked like they were forming a stream. “That's called the milky way. Though the myth surrounding that constellation differs depending on the country. In Japan the myth tells the story of a celestial princess Orihimie, who falls in love with a mortal named Hikoboshi. When her father found out he was enraged and forbid their love. To punish them he placed them in the sky separated by the celestial river or as we call it the milky way only to reunite once a year.”

Eve got up into a sitting position with her legs sidesaddle, sadness filled her eyes. “Oh my god that’s just tragic and sad, I couldn’t imagine what I would do if that happened to us. To be separated from the one I love, to be separated from you. I—.” She froze when she reailised the words that came out of her mouth. Did I just confessed that i love him? Did he hear me? What if I said it too soon? Holy crap you really blew it this time Eve! Prepare yourself and watch him run for the hills.

Leo gently cupped her cheeks with his hand, closing the gap between them as he pulled her in for a deep kiss, only to pull apart a few seconds later. His ocean blue eyes looking into her soft teal ones. “I love you too.” He says.

A whirlwind of pale green light appeared and swirled above, the streaks tossed about wildly. Then scarlet red clouds of fire pulsated in wave of arcs, rolled against the midnight sky and darting towards the heavens. They both looked up and marvelled at the beautiful lights as it danced in the northern sky illuminating the night.

***

Leo is suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by the squeaking sound of the library door opening.

“And here I thought this was the last place I would find you in.” Liam teases as he walks into the library with both hands in his pockets.

Leo snorts. “And yet here I am.” He opens a bottle of liquid amber and pours it into an empty glass before offering it to Liam.

“Thank you brother.” Liam says taking the glass from Leo. “ I didn’t see you earlier on. You know usuy Drake is the one who is busy brooding, what’s gotten into you lately?”

“I wasn’t really in the mood.” Leo murmurs, swirling the glass in his hand watching as the liquid amber turns into a small whirlpool.

“Is it because of Eve?” Liam asks studying the expression on his brothers face.

Leos is taken aback. Could it be he found out about our past? Play it cool Leo it could be about something else. Leo clears his throat before answering. “Why would you say something like that?”

Liam steps closer rubbing the back of his neck, pursing his lips before answering. “To be honest, Eve was the one who brought the subject up. She thinks you don’t like her and you know what I don’t blame her now that I see it. Ever since she came to Cordonia you haven’t really been welcoming, you leave everytime she enters the room. You barely say more than three words to her whenever she tries to start a conversation with you.” He pauses then heaves a sigh. “Brother you need to tell me if something is wrong so we can all try to work it out. I’m trying my best to convince the council that the woman I love is not just the perfect Queen for me but for Cordonia. Before the start of the social season you promised to help out as much as you can.”

Leo didn’t know what to answer he was stuck between his brother and the woman he once loved, the woman he still loved. Avoiding her wasn’t an option anymore, it might cause more suspicion and suspicion might lead to Liam digging for more answers. He just couldn’t risk letting Liam finding out about their history together. Leo ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to make Eve feel unwelcomed, I promise I’ll have a talk with her to straighten things out.”

“Thank you Leo, that’s all I ask.”

“And I’m sorry I haven’t been living up to my promises, I’ve just been having a hard time lately.” He murmurs taking a sip of his scotch.

“Is it about your divorce with Katie? I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy worrying about my problems I completely forgot that you have yours. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Leo gave a rueful smile and pats Liam on the shoulder. “Thank you Liam, but these are demons I need to face on my own.”

Liam places an assuring hand on Leo’s shoulder. “ If you ever need anything. You know I’ll always have your back just like you have mine. So what do you say we stop with the brooding for a few minutes and join the others at the great hall?”

Leo chuckles. “You don’t have to ask me twice brother.” They both finished their drinks and went on their way to join the others.

#the royal romance #playchoices #drake walker #king liam #liam x mc #trr liam #leo rys #leo x mc #liam rys #prince leo #trr leo #trr drake #trr hana #trr maxwell #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #trr au #trr x roe #rules of engagement

50 notes · View notes

punk-in-docs · 7 years

Text

You Were Always Mine, Chapter 23

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, set 1909. Edwardian Fic. Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ Prompt found on this blog. Link to the imagine(s) that inspired it, here, and here…. Chapter number: Chapter 23 Author: punk-in-docs (Here is my Masterlist for more chapters… Don’t laugh at me cause it’ s so, ridiculously tiny) but do take a look if you feel so inclined… Triggers/warnings: Fluff in this one, just fluff, love, and a little, evil surprise at the end. Enjoy my darlings. last chapter(?) The end?... oh, definitely not, I do see this continuing...

The squat, pointed, and honeycomb hued brick building that was St. Anthony’s, was perched far back off the residential street, it eased his fears that it was in a respectable area of town atleast, it was fenced off with an iron spiked fence, Thomas imagined it creaked and groaned, whining on its rusted hinges, when the metal gate was pushed open. The faded grass lawn, was strewn with golden brown leaves, evidence of the children who lived within the kind walls lay prominent on the huge expanse of lawn. A forgotten whip and top, and a couple of unloved hobby horses had been carelessly left behind, strewn on the damp grass, from the previous capering about the day before. The front of the stocky house was guarded by high, tall trees, he saw a bulky shape nestled in one is a makeshift tree house, and there is a wooden plank swing, drifting in the mornings breeze, rocking back and forth, swaying to an invisible tune.

His attentions from the gardens are diverted up to the house once more. It was a large place. From the outer exterior, his first thought is how warm and cosy it looks. He didn’t know what to expect, in all honesty. But when Vianne spoke of nun’s, and an Anglican order. He imagined a strict, cold place. With high windows, sparse halls and chilly rooms with nothing but a bed as the décor. Guarded by strict, shouting nuns, shrouded in black, punishing the orphans and bastards who ended up in their care. And took pains to remind them daily they were all sinners headed for hell as they supped down gruel like Dickensian work house fodder. That’s what he expected of an orphanage. He certainly didn’t expect this place to feel, nor look, so invitingly kind.

The brick of the gothic house, is a warm, buttery gold. There are tall, wide windows, letting in plenty of sunshine, and which are decorated with cypress wood. Their latticed frames, painted a faded bottle green, and dripping with elegant pointed gothic design. The low, sloping petticoat tiled roof, is a slate grey, and well-kept. Where the overhang of the roof shadows the windows, there is an intricate border to the stone which presides over one side of the house. The front door is lined with white stone, forming a carved arch around the merry, pillar-box red wood of the solid door. Though humble, the house is of a large size, with triple rows of rickety chimneys, and a towering turret lodged on the side of the house, near the front door. He didn’t expect to like this place, but he can’t deny its homeliness. Not with a blue shrouded, aproned, elderly nun, pegging out washing onto a line, far across the gardens. The scent of Proctor & Gambles, Ivory soap, a sparkling clean and fresh, linen smell, emanates through the air, toward them like a greeting visitor, tugging them through the gate. There are yellow pansy’s growing happily in the red window boxes that sat on every sill. The gardens are brimming with jovial daisy’s, and lush privet hedges. From inside the house, comes the raucous nature of children playing, happily. The gravel path that swirled through the garden, leading up the steps to the front door, is as inviting as the amiable place itself. But to Thomas, that path was one of the hardest he’d ever embark upon. He knew that much.

Vianne, stood by his side, slightly behind him, looking pale and nervous in her powder blue satin dress, velvet coat of a midnight hue, and her hat of cobalt. She was nervously chewing her lip. He could hear her hands fidget, the navy leather of them squeaking as she did so. She watched him place one hand on the iron fence before him, taking in all that the sight of St. Antony’s had to offer. He hadn’t spoken since she’d ordered the coach to stop. They’d stepped out, and he had been wordless ever since. His attention captured by the place. She watched that handsome profile, pale, dark straight hair, scar, and all, look at the house presented to him. She couldn’t tell if he was displeased, or overjoyed. His face is too stoic to tell anything by. When he does speak, after a long few moments, it is a barely audible hush.

“It’s nothing like I imagined it would be…” He spoke sincerely. With the utmost flattery in his tone. He looked for a few seconds more, watching the nun in the gardens reach for more wooden pegs, humming to herself, oblivious to the two visitors loitering in trepidation by the front gate. She doesn’t know how to answer him. So she steps forwards, and comes right up, flush to the iron fence, right by him.

“That’s Sister Beatrice. She’s been with the Order of the Blessed Lady Mary’s for sixty-six years now. She was one of the first postulant women in England to take Holy orders from the church. It took her thirty years to get that position in the clergy. She has a terribly fond sweet-tooth, and she simply adores Julia and Arthur. Always saves them a currant scone, or some bread and condensed milk, before the older ones get their mitts on them, so she says. She’s eighty-nine this year, but she doesn’t let her age dampen nor hinder her spirit one bit…” She explained, smiling. Looking over at her beau when she finished. Delighted to see her words caused a smile to crook on his face. He swallowed, then he looked to meet her gaze.

“Shall we?” He asks quietly. In a soundless effort of agreement, she reaches for the latch on the gate, and unhinges it. He watches her small, navy glove hand wrap around the handle, and smiles more, hearing the crick and screech of the iron gate as it was swung open. Vianne let it swing right out, her hand went back down to her side, and he found it. Holding her left hand tight. As her right was incapacitated by the wicker basket she had loaded with what she called essentials. For both the nuns, and the children. Some of Mrs. B, her wonderful cook’s, famous drop scones. Still warmed, for the Sisters, dotted with fat, sweet, plump raisins, and a jar of crushed raspberry jam, that too was infamous, to go along with. And such a variety of half-penny sweets for the children, the basket must’ve weighed a tonne with all the barley sugars, and confectionary she’d brought along. She bought them all a huge brown paper bagful of thick, splintered shards of sticky, golden toffee. Humbugs, liquorice twists, pear drops, bullseyes, and tiger nuts. He had offered to carry it for her, but she’d smiled that she didn’t mind. He also saw that she’d wrapped a small, secret parcel separately. Its contents, he couldn’t discern. Except for the bulk telling him some of it was soft clothing, and the tell-tale rigidity of books.

They walked through the gate, their soles both crunching the gravel underfoot. They come quickly through the front garden. Thomas wavers slightlly as they came to the under-hang of the front door, stepping under the outer stone threshold.

Vianne, familiar with the house, reached for the doorbell, and tugged on the pulley rope, letting the metallic clang signify to those within that they had callers at the front door. In no time at all, the heavy slab of the door is shuddered easily open from the other side, and a nun, swathed in sapphire blue, with a kind face appears in the gap. She had sun-coloured, fairly wrinkled skin. Barely etched with the toll of her age. Her eyes were grey, soft, worn, and kind. She had a sympathetic smile that had aged the lines about her mouth from its most frequent use. Her tunic swathed her entire body, so little could be said for her figure, but she looked surpassingly sprite, and energetic for her late age. Her hands are the same, sun-warmed, freckled hue as her face, with knobbled knuckles, and bony fingers. Slotted onto which, are several holy rings, taking up residence by her lower knuckles. Around her neck, on a simple, fine chain, atop her wimple which covered her neck, head and shoulders sits a simple, wooden cross necklace. Of course, nuns of the order gave up all possessions, and took strict oaths of obedience, and charity. So her rings, and her polished, black leather boots, must’ve been her only possessions, Thomas thinks. The Nun recognises Vianne instantly, and her face, accordingly, split into an overjoyed smile, and those grey eyes turned to happy, liquid pewter in her elation.

“Vianne. It’s so lovely to see you, my dear. My, what a delight. For we weren’t expecting you til Wednesday next on your usual visit.” The Nun smiles widely, she had opened wide the door, and embraced her into a solid, firm hug. Vianne held her back. The scent of Yardley’s lavender, soap, and musty cloth from the Chapel fills her senses. The warming aroma of Sister Marianne. When they pull apart, the woman looks fondly at Vianne. Obviously more than pleased to see her. She seems to falter when she sees Thomas, lurking behind his ex-wife.

“Oh, do forgive my manners. Most unchristian, won’t you both please come inside?” She asks, stepping out of the way, and letting the guests pass her, into the warm, atmosphere of the home. “May I fetch you something? Tea perhaps? Or some cake? Our cook made her infamous tiffin this morning, and it is, exceedingly delicious, as always…” She offers. They both decline. They can’t stomach food, either of them. Not just yet.

Each way he looks, all Thomas can see is reminders of how cosy, and homely this place is. Children’s artwork adorns the walls, along with clumsily embroidered bible passages hung up, enshrined, in frames along the flowery walls. Thick, ornate, worn wool rugs are underfoot, trodden to the beaten cypress floorboards, battered and bare below. Ahead, he can see a library, stocked with fat, leather bound books squeezed onto shelves that stretched nimbly from floor to ceiling, and a goldfish merrily glimmers in its bowl, warmed by the rays of sunshine on the windowsill. Up above, he sees the staircase, lined with a red rug up the centre. To their left is the kitchen, with a flagstone floor, a stove pumping out heat to keep the house warm, and a few nuns crowded round the dining table, pouring tea and eating huge slabs of cake, covered in jam. A couple of children are in the kitchen too. One girl, who she recognised as Enid, stood on a stool was having her dress hemmed by Sister Margaret, who did so knelt on a perfectly adequate, serviceable prayer cushion. And Johnathan and Timothy, were sat at the table enjoying jam and bread with the sisters too.

“It is wonderful to see you, as ever, my dear. Do tell me, who is your guest who joins you today?” Sister asked, assessing the tall, dark man, who was, in fact, so tall, the top of his head nearly brushed the moulding on the ceiling.

“Sister Marianne, this is my-.” Vianne begins, and when she pauses, fumbling for her words, she smiles and Thomas is intrigued as to why. She wants to stumble, embarrassed over the word. But then her bravery swells, and she realises that the sound of his newfound title was a lovely thought to bear in mind. she’d spent so long, not, saying it. That declaring it now was absolutely the right thing.

“This is Julia and Arthurs father, Sister. My Husband. Sir Thomas Sharpe.” Vianne explains. Sister Marianne, who, to her credit didn’t look the sturdiest, battle-axe of a woman, took that confession in her powerful stride. Vianne realised then, that she’d waited two years to let those words cross her lips. And it felt wonderful.

“My goodness. You certainly make a fine pair. And I see your son certainly takes after you, Sir.” Sister Marianne flatters, swaying forwards to shake Thomas’s hand. He returned the hearty shake.

“Our… circumstances, kept me unable to visit until now…. Believe me, I would not part with seeing them unless I had too.” Thomas tried to defend. Sister smiled wider. Her calming eyes taking in his revelation with an understanding blink, and a nod.

“We are not here to judge your circumstances, Sir Sharpe. We harbour many children here, whose parents cannot afford them, or care for them well enough. We even have children who have been cast out by their parents for no reason whatsoever, among these walls. It is a haven we have for them, in this house. When their own is in strife, we give help any way we see fit.” She explains.

“And your wife, has been an absolute blessing conveyed upon us, since she first housed Arthur and Julia here as babes in arms.” Marianne told him.

“To me, Sister, my wife is a blessing wherever she chooses to convey herself.” Thomas flatters. When his eyes met Vianne’s, she flushes, and her spine squirms, alight with thrashing nerves.

Vianne chose that moment, after her cheeks stopped reddening, to have an attack of modesty. “Only some bandages, and ointment, Sister. Hardly a cottage hospital. Barely anything, in all honesty...” She quips.

“We could happily have had you as a permanent fixture my dear. With all you donate, and do for the children here, and for us nuns too.” She praised. Vianne absentmindedly, humbly, tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “We’d be sorrier for the loss of you. Nurse James.” Sister japes.

“And need I mention how much the children, aswell as your own, adore you?” Sister mentioned. Thomas could instantly see why. And he was about to be served a large example of just how deep such devotion went.

And on the landing above, small, barrelling footsteps thump, thundering to the banister, small, shaggy heads of hair, hang over and peer at the newcomers, and when they catch a glimpse of the both of them, children’s bellows start to echo through the cumbersome house. And, quickly, more and more footsteps thud on the ceiling. “It’s Vianne!” came a boys shout, and ultimately, served as the call the rouse the troops, as it were.

“Deary me, That is Perry Jenkins. The wildest one of our bunch… and one your most devoted fans as I understand it. You’d best brace yourselves…” The nun warned. Thomas was about to enquire, when her warning became perfectly clear.

More footsteps clattered and bombed about above, and then the stairs are teeming with small children. Tearing down the stairs like hell furies. Grinning from ear to ear. The next thing he knows she is swarmed by them like a herd of insects. Swallowed whole by the crowds of children that gathered, laughing and giggling away, calling her name as she turned to each of them in unison. She reached for the basket and started handing out the goodies within. Which they gratefully took. The boys clamoured for her attentions, hanging on her every word as she bid them all hello, and the girls hugged her legs through her skirts, asking her about her hat, and her pretty dress. Smiling prettily at the woman in admiration. Thomas smiled at the sight of the kids swarming her. She was maternal through and through, and it was dazzling to see.

“Perry Jenkins. You must’ve grown two miles since I saw you last, you little devil. You’ll be a match for me soon…Lucinda, dear, you’re missing, another, tooth? Three last week? My goodness! Hello Sylvie, poppet, you appear to be missing a shoe… Oh, how could I forget you two. Myrtle and Michael. Oscar, those Bullseyes are for sharing. Pass them round, you’ve been taught to divvy treats, have you not, or, am I mistaken? Polly, yes, you may of course have my hat. But, only, when your older, and your head gets big enough to fit it…” She rambled, greeting them each in turn.

“Beloved, she is indeed.” Sister Marianne spoke to Thomas, smiling to him as they both beamed at the happy sight. Thomas’s smile crooked wider.

“She told us you were an inventor, Sir Sharpe. That your breakthrough came with inventing a very clever machine for an American mining company…” Sister spoke, enquiring, engaging him in conversation as the children still congregated around his wife.

“That’s correct.” He smiled humbly. “Though I don’t know about the very clever part. I spend more time tampering and fixing the shrewish machines, than they do functioning well. I’ve currently taken work designing a new coolant system for machines that could end up having scientific and medical use. My factory Is just up the road, in Gillespie Street.” He told her. She nodded, and smiled, near laughing.

“I knew you had to be Arthurs father from the second I laid eyes on you, stood on that doorstep, Sir Sharpe. The bright blue eyes, the inky hair.” She told, those warming, dove-grey eyes sparkling with happiness, and plenty of canny spirit. She was sharp as a tack, this woman. His face must have made a picture, for it prompted her to elucidate further.

“Your son is just like you. Being, only two of course, his faculties are limited until he gets a little bigger, and older. But the thing he enjoys most, Is building blocks. He has begun fitting puzzles together already. Now I know the true proverb behind the saying, like father, like son.” She smiles. That warm little confession touched his heart. Sister could see the man was very obviously touched by what she had confessed. He looked both part amazed, scared and unbelieving. Standing there, like a tall, pale, dark haired human lamppost. Marianne’s face fell when she noticed the fear in his eyes. His aura of trepidation powerful.

He’s like me… Thomas thought. My son is like me. Please, dear god, spare that innocent soul the agony of being as tainted, twisted, and as broken as his wretched father, if there are similarities to be had. Please, don’t let him be like me. For that is the worst thing he could ever grow up to do.

“Forgive me, Sir, I’ve said nothing to offend you, I hope?” She asks.

“Not at all, Sister, it’s just…” He swallowed, his throat suddenly thick with emotion that choked him. He was wringing his leather gloves nervously in his hands. He looked tormented by his own thoughts.

“I’m scared.. I, won’t be good enough. To be a decent father to them, sister. I mean, of course, I don’t look… I’m, scarred. Mutilated. I’m worried they’ll scream, or cry at the sight of…” He told, unable to say it. But she knew, undoubtedly, he was referring to the long strike, of the tear stained, crimson scar down his face. He didn’t say it. But she knew that was what he meant.

The nun seemed to take this revelation completely in her stride. She nodded, and folded her hands in front of her, she met his eyes, and spoke once more.

“Children are more resilient than you may think, Sir Sharpe. I know, to someone who isn’t used to them, they can seem small, fragile. And they do need protecting, and looking after, of course. But it would surprise you how plucky they can be.” She tells him. He looked across to her, his fears eased, he watched Vianne smiling at the children, as she idly fixed a little girls wonky plait for her.

“I could never stomach telling Vianne that above all, that’s what scared me the most. She’d have thought me a fool.” He tells.

“She’d have said the same as I, Sir. I assure you heartily of that.” Sister spoke wisely. They continued to watch the children gaggle around. And then, a mousy haired girl, who could have been no older than five, or six, stumbled as she tried to clamour after Vianne. Thomas shoved his gloves deep into his coats pocket, and smiled warmly at the girl. She looked down at her feet, and he saw that her red shoe, had come unbuckled. Instantly, he sidled closer, not too close so as to scare her, he knew his towering height would dwarf her and intimidate her, and he crouched to his knees. She was wearing a grey pinafore, and a thick, woollen, blue cardigan, and had a red ribbon tied, tucked into the back of her hair, drawing it up off her face. She had big, brown, darling doe eyes. And though she seemed weary of him at first, she gave him a shy, toothless little smile. Thomas looked at her, inaudibly moving for her foot, to aid her. She stood, swaying from side to side, nervous, with her hands behind her back. Thomas reached over to her shoe, and his dexterous fingers fumbled for the buckle, looping the leather through, and guiding it back to the worn hole it was used to sitting in. Unbeknownst to him, Vianne’s heart warmed right through, seeing him crouch, helping Katie with her shoe. She felt a tug of love for him, surge in her gut.

“Not too tight is it?” He asked her gently. She shook her head, shyly. He smiled fondly at her. She was a dear little thing. “I like your hair ribbons, they’re very pretty.” He smiled, tucking one loose bit of her dark hair back behind her tiny ear. She grinned, beaming at him. She was a darling little thing. She was all big eyes, and sweet smiles.

“What do you say to Mr. Sharpe, Katie?” Sister spoke up, encouraging, gently. The little girl said nothing, but ducked her head forwards, and smacked a small kiss onto Thomas’s cheek. Before she turned bright red, and scurried off to the kitchens like a little scared mouse, in search of something to eat. Thomas smiled, getting to his feet, his knees aching as he rose.

“She’s a sweet girl, our Katie. One of our newest here. She comes from a broken home. Her family couldn’t keep her. She barely speaks yet. Her father used to, give her the strap, when she spoke out of turn at home. She’s coming along, slowly, but we all estimate it will take her a great deal more time to trust us enough to know she won’t be harmed when she does, eventually, speak.” Sister explained. Thomas was amazed the poor girl didn’t baulk at his size, and his scarred face. Marianne’s eyes shone cannily.

“See? More resilient than you think. Even the ones who’ve been through hell and beyond…” Sister spoke knowingly. Thomas had no choice but to put blind faith in her promise.

“And as for your, concerns, over being a decent father, sir. My advice is always this; Love them. That is what your child needs above all else.” She tells him.

Thomas nods. “I’ve never met them, and already I love them with all my heart, Sister.” He informs her. Because he did. The picture Vianne had of them, was in his pocket, close to his heart.

“In which case, then, you are already a brilliant father.” She tells him kindly. The last of the children dispersed, the boys raucously running to the kitchens, or the gardens, and Vianne is left talking to a few girls, and after they too toddle away, she straightens, and re-hooks her basket to settle to the crook of her arm. Sufficiently emptied of all sweets now. Which made it all the lighter. She smiles across at them both.

“Are we permitted to go upstairs, Sister?” Vianne asks nicely. Thomas’s gut clenched. Swooping with excitement. In a few short seconds, he’d see them…

“Of course..” Sister gestured. “Though I know you’re familiar with the route. Allow me to take you up..” She smiles, gliding noiselessly across to the stairs, heading up first, Thomas gestures for ladies first and follows behind Vianne. They go up the creaking, wooden staircase, treading the thick carpet, avoiding stepping dolls, or crunching wooden trains underfoot. Sister scoffed, and turned to apologise, seeing the jumble of forgotten toys hazardously laid across several steps. “Do forgive the toys. I believe some of the younger ones like playing on the stairs from time to time…” She explains. They both smile, and Thomas swoops down and uprights the fallen train, clicking the steam funnel back in place, as it had come loose. They continue past one landing, up another light, seeing the warm, wooden room that was the dormitory’s. Again, just like the rest of the house, it is just as warmly decorated. Pictures, drawings and embroidery are pinned to the walls above the beds, the small, cosy cots are laden with brightly coloured blankets and plump pillows. Toys are strewn everywhere within sight. And there were mason jars of collected wildflowers from the gardens, sat sparkling on the windowsill, in the suns light. Obviously they had been collected by the children themselves, there were wild daisies, scented stocks, holly hocks, and bluebells nestled, drooping yet vibrant in the confines of the glass jar.

They continue up, to what he guesses, are the nurseries where the younger children’s cots were. Up the landing, they tread the thick vermillion carpets, coming to the door. Sister pauses before it, twisting open the door handle, she looks back across at them both. Both parents, here together for their children. And she couldn’t intrude on that…

“I’ll leave you now. Sister Winnifred gave them their breakfast this morning. They should be awake now. It’s… so lovely to have the both of you here to see them, together.” She smiles warmly at them. “And, may I just say, if you decide that you want them with you, we’d of course, be overjoyed for you to take charge of their care. But may I hope that you visit with them from time to time, to let us know how all of you are getting along. You’ve been such a dear friend to us Vianne. All of us should hate to lose contact with you.” She urges. Vianne takes Sisters hands in her own.

“You may depend upon it, Sister.” Vianne promises. “Without you, and the blessed order, I don’t know where I’d be, I truly don’t.” She thanked the woman. Because, she suddenly realised, she never had. Oh, she’d helped comb the children for nits, helped donate winter clothes, blankets, soap, sweets, medical supplies, cakes from her cook, and other menial necessities and comforts. But she’d never properly taken the time to thank Sister Marianne for all she had done for Julia, Arthur, and for her. She was another providential saviour, alike Erik, and Thomas, to all of whom, she thanked her lucky stars to have in her life.

“I trust you know where you are, now…” She smiled wisely, looking between them as Thomas lovingly squeezed his wife’s hand. “Because I can see where you are now, even if you can’t..” She smiled fondly, giving her blessing. Her hands folded in front of her, patiently, her smile jovial at seeing their discernible ardour for each other. Plain as day. Plain as the nose on her face.

Sister opened the door before them, showing them a small, sun filled nursery, with only two cots inside, and a nun was sat in a rocking chair, reading a picture book to the two little ones, sat on the rug, idly playing with separate toys. The Nun looked up when Head Nun peered into the room, and wordlessly smiled at her Sister. Sister Winnifred, rose from her chair, a plain, sable beauty, judging by her dark eyebrows, she had a wide, soft smile, a gentle face, and clear blue eyes that were very pale in their colouring.

She placed the book on the side, muttering kindly to the children that they had two visitors. Before she glided from the room, nodding hello to the parents, before both Nun’s smiled, and made their way back down the stairs. Leaving Thomas and Vianne to the room before them. He held her hand so tight, transfixed by the sight before him, matter of fact, his grip cut off the circulation to her fingers. She squeezed back whilst she still had the feeling in her hand left to utilize. She guided him forwards, stepping into the room, scooping up Arthur as he came bombing across the room, calling her name, and grinning madly. ”Mama! Mama!” He cried, as he toddled quickly across. His arms outstretched. His cherubian face wearing a pure, joyous smile. At seeing his mother. He wore a little pair of green, tweed breeches, a white shirt, and a small black waistcoat. Thomas stood, unmoving by the doorframe, watching his wife hug his son close to her chest. Her eyes closed as she savoured him in her arms, stroking his hair, and taking him in deep. The scent of him, of ivory soap, and clean, young skin wafting in her direction as she cuddled him close.

“I missed you so much, Arthur, my darling...” She smiled. Pulling back, and pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek, seeing he smiled, sucking his thumb, as his little hand, like a pink starfish, with the tiny rounded pebbles of his small fingernails, on each, reached out to touch her face, grabbing her cheek. Smiling at her all the while. She held him up against her hip, letting him see his father, just behind her, stood by the door. Julia, not to be left out, stood and rushed over to her mother too, chanting the same mantra that her brother had. “I missed both of you. You too Julia, poppet.” Vianne smiles. Julia fisted her hands in Vianne’s blue skirts, and tugged, smiling up, hugging her leg. Vianne moved to shift Arthur onto her other hip. But she was beaten to the punch. Thomas stepped forwards, and Arthur looked straight at him. To Thomas, his little, piercing, blue eyed, look, was like an arrow of longing hitting him straight in the heart. This was his boy. His son.

“Hello, at last, you…” He spoke softly, gently reaching over, and letting Arthur curl his little hand around his finger.

“You know who this is, don’t you, my loves?” Vianne asked her toddler as she crouched to tend to both of them. Arthur thought for a moment. Before one little word came sailing out of his little mouth. “Dada.” He spoke, unsurely. Thomas smiled, choked, tears were in his eyes. He had seen the wedding picture of him and Vianne, pinned up above the cot. Obviously, even though he hadn’t been here in person, he had been talked about. He hadn’t been ignored, or forgotten, she’d seen to that much.

“That’s right..” He croaked. “I’m your father.” He cried fondly, sniffing back his emotions. As he stroked his sons head. His hand carting over the black curls that were the same as his own. The eyes that were just as sharp, even in their infancy.

Thomas had come to a crouch too, and slowly, like a shy baby deer, his daughter now toddled across to him. She reached out her hands, and he took them, her hands pawed at him. Going up to his face, she patted his cheeks, and laughed when he gently gripped her hand to his mouth, and kissed her fingers.

But what both made them, absolutely melt, was when she touched his scar, stroking down his face, smiling. feeling down it with her tiny, searching fingers. She wasn’t scared of his scars. She wasn’t afraid of him, because he looked damaged, and mutilated by his past, in more ways than one. Julia didn’t care about any of that. And Neither did Vianne, or Arthur, because this was their family. Their Father. The man who’d come to find them again, when they thought they’d all been lost.

“How could I possibly be your father, you beautiful girl?” Thomas asks Julia as she cuddled into him when he knelt to scoop her up, bringing her up into his arms. She was wearing a little blue dress, with white petticoat trimmed socks on her legs. Her thick, short, red, hair was combed neatly, parted on her small little head, not yet long enough to warrant bows or ribbons being needed. She had a cherubs face like her brother. Only she had an impish nose, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, like his wife did. Julia was gorgeously pretty, whereby Arthur was just as beautifully handsome. His beautiful girl, and his handsome boy. He savours Julia as she snuggles into his coat. Her fingers plucking and playing curiously with the buttons on his overcoat.

This... Thomas thinks, This is my Baby Daughter. My girl. and she’ll forever be so, even when she’s all grown in years to come. She’ll still be my baby-girl.

He headed with Julia on his hip, like a little blue clad, red haired limpet, across to the small chaise that was crowded with toys and pillows, across the room, under the sunny, large window that beamed light onto the carpet below. Twirling mites of dust in the lazy, yellow light. The room, because the window was open a tad, smelt like sparkling clean soap, and the scent of fresh flowers, drifting up on the warm air from the gardens down below. He sits leisurely with Julia on the settee, feeling the sun warm the back of his neck. Vianne releases Arthur, and watches him toddle over to play with some wooden blocks near his father’s feet.

Vianne stands, and watches as Thomas sets Julia down, and she zips straight to her dolls house, to fiddle and play with the family inside. She steps over the debris of toys, and joins her husband on the seat by the window as they watch them play. Thomas thanks Julia as she brings him over a blonde, red dressed doll, and places it in his lap. Then she totters off to do something else. He smiles after her, seeing that she had every spec of her mother’s sweetness. He reached for Vianne, linking his arm about her waist, cupping her hip, pulling her close. Hugging her tight. When he looked across the room, he saw the drawings they’d done, inconceivable scribbles, really, stabbed in pencil across the page. But by his count, he saw four figures in that picture. Two children, one with a black scribble for hair, the other, red. And both taller, figures, had the same colouring. One red. One black.

“You told them about me?” Thomas asked her in a hush. He didn’t turn to look at her. They were both too busy watching their children. Vianne reached for the parcel she’d wrapped for them. And gave it to Arthur, telling him to open it. When he tore away the string, and brown paper, it revealed a pile of new picture books, and some nice, new clothes. A knitted cardigan from Jeanie, for them each. One in butter-daisy yellow for Julia, and one in cool-icy blue, for Arthur. Vianne smiled down at them with their new presents, before she answered him.

“How could I not have?” She asked back. “They deserved to know they weren’t discarded. Like so many of the children in here. They had every right to know they had a father, somewhere. They didn’t have to know why we were apart. They deserved to know they had a mother and a father who loved them.” She explained.

“Now I’ve seen them. I never want to be parted from them again.” He says proudly. She closed her eyes and smiled. Letting a tear slip down her cheek. “How could you bear doing it time and time again when you came to visit?” He asked her, in nothing but utter amazement at her. As always…

“I scarcely coped.” She tells. Scooping Julia up for a cuddle, setting her on her lap. Pressing a kiss to her hair. Stroking her cheek with a knuckle. She cuddled her mother. Happy to see her again.

“I want us to be a proper family, Vianne. You, me, them. All of us, together. Making up for all those rotten months we spent apart.” He tells her, swallowing, his voice croaky, throat thick, nearly clogged, with sentiment

“I want to wake up next to you, each morning. And I want to wake knowing that my children are safe, and snug, in their beds, and their own room, just down the landing from us. Not hidden away, on the other side of London. I want to watch them grow. I missed their first words, steps, and smiles. And I will be damned if I miss anything else.” He explains powerfully.

”I will be there at the dinner table every night as part of this family. I’ll be there to bathe them, to read them bedtime stories, to play with them until they run rings around me. I shall teach them all the things I was never taught as a boy. Teach them humility, love and sensitivity. Teach them to be their own, and know that at their every turn, I am proud of whatever they do. And whatever they love, so long as they’re contented. They shall never want for anything, again.” He rasps sincerely. Full well meaning each and every word, every promise.

“And I swear on my soul, that they’ll never hear a cross word come from me in my life. They will know they are adored, and cherished. Not ignored, and despised. Locked away from the world in a drafty, cold attic.” He pledged.

Vianne let her head fall onto his shoulder. Biting her lip, trying to stem her tears of both happiness, and pain for him recounting his childhood.

“You are not your father, Thomas. And we will not be like him, or your mother, when we raise our children. They will know how much love we bear for them. They’ll feel it every day, in every measure we can give. And they shall continue to know it, until long after you and I draw our last breaths.” She speaks softly. Squeezing his hand, telling him she meant each word too. He held her back, just as keenly.

“Will you be my wife again, Vianne? Be the mother of my children, be a family, with me?” He asks, letting the sentence hang in the air. She smiled, and lifted her head up to gaze at him. He tilted to look at her, wiping away her tear with a flick of his soothing, gentle hand.

“Thought you’d never ask, Thomas Sharpe.” She smiles brightly.

“Shall we go home now, all of us?” He asks. Nodding to the twins as they examined their new picture books, before them. He reached over, as Julia was still on her mother’s lap, and stroked her cheek. Including them in his count too. He didn’t care how long it took to pack the twins belongings. He wasn’t leaving this place without them.

“All five of us.” Vianne smiled.

Thomas frowned mildly. “You’ve miscounted, dear.” He spoke. Not getting her hint at all. In fact, her meaning evaded him, until, she grabbed his hand, and brought it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles, the bruises on them having faded long ago. And she placed his hand over her lower tummy, on her bodice.

“Well. There’s four of us now, but soon, there will be five..” She smiled, beaming. Realisation dawned on his features. He’d never kissed her so hard, or as fast, in all his life. He never wanted to stop. And from now on, he loves knowing he never would.

The End? of course not, I haven't run out of ideas for these two just yet...

@frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @totallynotasmutblog

10 notes · View notes