#please cross your fingers for me that uni people will answer my emails next week
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“Trains have surpassed ships as the worst type of transportation after all.”
On the way to Paris, France – June 1848
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 10:40
With a hiss and a screech, the train rolled out of the station.
Blood pounded in my head; thoughts and plans swarmed through my mind.
The train would not stop until it reached Paris.
Yvette and Jacques were five wagons ahead.
But where were Townsend, Florentin, and Maxime? And how many of their accomplices were here too?
“Countess,” she heard Cedric’s voice next to her. Only when she turned to face him and saw the wide, worried look in his eyes, did Cloudia realise that he must have called her a few times before she had reacted. His hand was still on her arm, their shoulders brushing against each other in this cramped space.
“They are on this train.” Her heart was racing, she was out of breath, and the words tumbled out of her before she could dwell on them. “I saw Jacques and Yvette boarding the train.”
Cedric’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. Cloudia registered a movement behind him: Aurèle, who stood behind Cedric and Kamden and was folded into this small space by the door with the others, lifted his head at the mention of his brother.
A passenger shoved his suitcase into his cabin and raised an eyebrow at the odd lot by the door before he entered the compartment and closed the door behind him. With the corridor now empty, Cedric gently pulled Cloudia into it. As soon as they stepped into it, the bubble broke, and the others spaced out too. Lisa and Newman remained in the back, whereas Milton stepped a little bit forward, close to Kamden. It was still very cramped – two next to each other was an imposition, three was an impossibility. Now, at least, they weren’t packed like sardines in a can.
“Jacques and Yvette are on this train too. I spotted them entering the wagon five coaches ahead of ours,” Cloudia said. This time she was slightly louder. The thundering of her heart had ebbed into a flicker, waiting in anticipation to re-ignite.
“But didn’t they kidnap Jacques nearly a day ago?” asked Cedric in bewilderment. “And you said Yvette and Maxime left Nanteuil-la-Forêt at about one or two in the morning – how did they arrive in Creil only now?”
“The heavy rain must have slowed them down,” Cloudia mused. “And maybe they did not immediately leave the village after I saw them at the hospital. They could have gone somewhere else within Nanteuil-la-Forêt first and might have been affected by the fire too.”
“That would explain why Maxime and Yvette might have been late but Jacques?”
“My brother isn’t an idiot,” said Aurèle. Cloudia saw Cedric open his mouth before quickly closing it again. “He wouldn’t have led them right to the Clockmaker, even if he was afraid.”
“You mean he could have led them astray first?” Cloudia replied, and Aurèle nodded.
“Cloudie, did you see anyone besides Yvette and…” Kamden wanted to know but his question was cut off by a gunshot and the sound of glass shattering. Cedric yanked Cloudia to the side. She crashed against a compartment door right when the bullet flew past her by a hair’s breadth.
And hit flesh.
A scream tore through the carriage. Cloudia did not turn to check who was hurt. Instead, she swiftly stepped away from the door, her own gun ready in hand – but another shot rang through the air before she could move.
Followed by the sound of metal hitting metal.
And a scream and a curse. Before she turned and confirmed it, Cloudia knew that their assailant hadn’t fired that shot.
Milton lowered his pistol. Though he remained alert, his gaze softened, changed, when he sighed, from concentration to worry. She could see he was about to say something but did not wait for him to speak. Cold realisation having hit her, Cloudia rushed along the corridor to the door at the other end of the wagon.
The clang, the sound of metal clattering against metal.
Of course, Milton had only disarmed the attacker. His gun must have hit the connector bars and was likely now bedded somewhere in the shrubbery behind us.
Which meant that the gunman was still alive.
Glass shards cracked under her shoes as she reached the door. She stared through its broken window to the neighbouring coach, saw the other coach’s door flung wide open and the attacker hastening to the end of the wagon. Cloudia raised her gun, fired once, twice, thrice until she saw him topple over, dead or close.
Cloudia turned to the others, the morning wind from the shattered window cool on her skin. Kamden scrambled to his feet – he must have either thrown himself on the ground or been pushed down – to tend to Aurèle who held his right shoulder, his face a mask of agony. Lisa and Newman walked towards her from the end of the coach. Cedric was still by the compartment door. He jumped to the side and against the windowed wall when the door slightly opened, and a head peeked out. Newman told the woman to stay in the cabin, and she readily obliged.
“I’m sorry, Lady Cloudia, I-” began Milton, who was the only one who had not moved.
“No need to apologise, Milton,” Cloudia cut him off. “You reacted perfectly; I did not expect you to shoot at the man,” she continued. As the words left her mouth, it dawned on her that she had just killed someone right in front of him, and the realisation sent an odd feeling through her. Cloudia mustered his face, but all it reflected was sorrow, a silent apology, not fear, and she recalled his words from earlier. Strange how only hours had passed since; the memory seemed further away. And although she knew that Milton didn’t lie, it was still soothing to be certain that he was not afraid of her.
But…
A thought bloomed in her head, something dark and pointy. Cloudia pushed it away. Later, she told herself; there was no time for that right now.
A shriek vibrated through the air, mixing with the hammering of the open door against the carriage wall and the rattling of the train as it breezed over the tracks. Cloudia glanced back to the other coach and spotted some passengers leaving their cabins and hovering over the body, pointing to the open door.
“That man, that reckless idiot,” said Cloudia to the others, “may not have been able to contact Yvette and Townsend somehow, but the passengers certainly will if enough noticed the corpse and heard the shots. And we don’t know how many of their people are aboard too, and where Townsend, Maxime, or the Clockmaker are.” She reloaded her pistol and pocketed it. “I doubt we can just stay put and wait until we reach Paris to get to Jacques; I suppose we need to go now.”
Cloudia looked at Newman. “I am not sure if the corridors are too narrow for you to move fleetly in,” she said. “I would not mind if you stayed behind, Newman.”
“I understand your concern, Lady Cloudia. However, as a butler, I cannot stand by idly while my mistress brings herself in peril,” replied Newman. “And as the Phantomhive butler, nothing shall be impossible. I will follow you, even if I am slow.”
“Very well,” sighed Cloudia.
“I’ll come too,” Aurèle pressed out from between clenched teeth. “I need to get to my brother.”
“Definitely not,” said Kamden firmly. “The bullet got stuck in your arm. I need to get it out first.”
“You heard that, Aurèle? You’ll stay. Jacques also wouldn’t want you to strain yourself when you’re injured.” Aurèle’s expression darkened, though he did not retort anything to her surprise. Cloudia then levelled her gaze at Milton. “You stay back too, do you hear me? When I agreed to let you come with us, it did not entail this.”
Before she could hear any protests, Cloudia pushed the wagon door open. Keeping her eyes firmly on the wagon ahead of her, not on the tracks below or the world blurring around, she took a run-up and jumped.
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 10:50
The question of how she meant to go to Yvette and Jacques when the train was moving turned into a horrified “oh” when Cloudia jumped to the other coach. Immediately, Cedric ran to the open door, glass crunching beneath him. He sighed in relief when he saw that Cloudia had landed well and safely on the other side. Without looking back, she walked down the corridor to the terrified passengers.
Cedric turned to the others. When he noticed the expression on Kamden’s face – the wide-eyed horror – he wondered if it was a mirror of his own countenance too. Then, Kamden took a deep breath and returned his attention to Aurèle who looked rather pale and miserable. Blood seeped out from behind his fingers.
“Could you please hold him still, Mr Newman?” asked Kamden, and Newman obliged with a nod. Kamden carefully pried Aurèle’s fingers away and stuffed a cloth into Aurèle’s mouth before he stuck his finger inside the wound without any warning. Cedric winced when he saw that. Aurèle squirmed and shoved Kamden and, miraculously, even Newman away, spitting out the cloth in the process and cursing at Kamden in French.
“I’m sorry but I need to look how deep the bullet lodged,” said Kamden, undeterred.
“But like that?!”
“Yes, it’s either the finger or the probe.”
Kamden opened his bag and before he could pull out the probe, Cedric cleared his throat. He was far too familiar with that infernal metal rod, and he feared Kamden might procure the forceps alongside it for good measure. “K… Emyr, maybe it would be best if you got into a cabin where there are still empty seats. It’s better if Aurèle could sit down, isn’t it?” Cedric said and opened the closest compartment door. A pale-faced woman and a man holding an umbrella in defence stared at him.
“Do you mind…” Cedric started before he remembered that, of course, the couple could not understand him.
“If you may allow me, Your Grace,” said Newman gently before he began talking to the couple who grew paler with every word. Cedric wondered if they would turn translucent, eventually.
“Your Uselessness,” Lisa chuckled as she squeezed past him.
“You don’t know French either, Miss Greene,” Cedric shot back.
Lisa did not react; without another word, she simply followed Cloudia to the neighbouring carriage. Next to him, Cedric heard a half-swallowed, horrified “Lisa,” and when Cedric turned, he saw Newman shaking his head. Nevertheless, when he noticed Cedric’s eyes on him, Newman said tersely, “It is only right for her to follow Lady Cloudia. She can do it more swiftly in this environment than me.”
Cedric nodded. Newman had finished his explanation, and the umbrella-wielding man and his wife now hurried to gather their belongings. They, apparently, did not want front-row seats for an amateur bullet removal. Cedric watched them briefly before he shifted away from the cabin and noticed that pieces of rope were now dangling from the ceiling in a line by the windows. He stared up at the ceiling and saw that part of it had opened, letting the ropes fall out. Bewildered, Cedric looked around to the others, an enquiry on his lips. He halted upon noticing Milton knock on a compartment door. The door tentatively opened, and he spoke a few words with the woman. Cedric could not understand anything besides the final “Merci” (he recognised the word from the chocolate brand) before the door was drawn shut again.
With whatever he had wanted to do done, Milton walked to the open door. Unlike Aurèle who had slowly made his way away from Kamden and his probe and was now uneasily mustering the space between the carriages, Milton seemed unfazed when he looked outside. Alarmed by the look in his eyes, Cedric called his name and hurried to him.
It was such a small space, only a few metres, a few steps, from one end of the wagon to the other but Cedric was still too late to stop Milton.
Thankfully, Aurèle wasn’t.
Just when Milton was about to take a run-up, Aurèle grabbed his arm and yanked him back and against a cabin with impressive force considering his injury.
“You,” Aurèle hissed at Milton when Cedric reached them, “are meant to stay behind. Didn’t you hear my cousin tell you that?”
“I heard Lady Cloudia,” replied Milton calmly. He held Aurèle’s gaze, meeting his eyes with an expression so oddly hard and intense it felt foreign on Milton’s face. “Only I have no intention to stay put. She had one condition for me accompanying you all and that was that I would stay safe. And I agreed. Lady Cloudia only told me to remain behind because she thinks it would be unsafe, but I assure you I will be perfectly fine. You should also not have done that; you are only worsening your injury.”
“Aurèle, let him go,” said Cedric before Aurèle could retort anything.
“Yes, Aurèle,” Kamden added, joining them by the door. “Let him go. They vacated the cabin; now come. The bullet shouldn’t be inside you for too long.”
Scowling and grumbling, Aurèle took a step back and followed Kamden into the compartment. When the door was closed behind them, Cedric said, “Milton, I hope you’re well-aware that the Countess’ current plan of action is to jump between coaches on a running train until she reaches a bunch of criminals. One slip-up between wagons and you’re dead.” As soon as those words had slipped out, they dragged Cedric to the truth he had been ignoring for the last few minutes, ever since Cloudia had left their wagon.
One slip-up, one fall, one push, and Cloudia was dead.
“Kristopher,” Milton said with such gentleness that Cedric knew that his face had betrayed his thoughts. “There is no time to argue, is there? And I promised her, as I will promise you and whoever else I must, that I will keep myself safe.”
Cedric glanced to the other carriage. Cold fingers traced his spine when he saw that Lisa and Cloudia had already headed to the next one. “Very well,” said Cedric with gritted teeth. “Let’s go, Milton.”
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 10:50
Reckless, brash, idiotic, it swirled through my mind while I was airborne.
A moment ago, there had been rattling but firm ground under my feet. Now, there was nothing at all. I had jumped out of windows and carriages before, had felt the wind catch me, tear at my hair and clothes, force me down or sideways before.
But none of those memories fit with the sensation that overcame me now, in this moment, this second, this blink in which I was flying.
From one coach to another; metal beasts shrieking through the landscape with dozens of kilometres per hour.
Over a space only two, three steps wide and still as large as a canyon’s divide.
And then my feet touched the platform, and the moment was gone.
Cloudia grabbed the metal bars; the train hissed in anger at this violation of locomotive etiquette. Adrenaline pumped through her when she let go of the metal railing to stand properly on the small platform. The platforms on each end of a wagon were connected to a small set of stairs and possessed a simple bannister with an open gap on the side that faced the next coach. As if, despite locomotive etiquette, one was meant to jump between coaches.
Without looking back – she did not need to turn to know that Kamden and the others must have horror written all over their faces – Cloudia entered the carriage. Inside, three passengers were standing by the corpse, blocking the entire narrow walkway, and talking to one another with increasingly disturbed, panicked voices. Four more passengers were hovering on the doorsills to their cabins, their faces ashen and shocked as they stared at the body.
Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, Cloudia approached the three men by the body and asked them to step aside for a moment. Puzzlement bloomed across their faces, mixed with their panic; still, one of the men stepped halfway into a compartment, allowing Cloudia to kneel by the corpse.
“I would recommend returning to your cabins,” she implored the men in French. “Or you might end up like that man here.” Though Cloudia had directly looked at the onlookers while she had spoken and pointed at the corpse and the slowly growing bloodstain, they were rooted to the spot, watching her with wide, terrified eyes. Cloudia clenched her teeth.
This undertaking could only be a hassle with all these civilians around and no proper way to evacuate them. Couldn’t the gunman have stayed put?
Cloudia pushed down her irritation and glanced at the dead man. From his clothes, she could tell that he must have been a Nanteuillat. What can you tell me? she thought and was about to look quickly through his pockets when she heard a clang and a curse behind her. Cloudia lifted her head and saw Lisa holding onto the railing and trying to regain her balance, cursing under her breath.
“Not waiting for Newman?” asked Cloudia and rolled the dead man on his side to gain better access to his pockets.
“And miss out on some fun? Definitely not,” Lisa said. She glared at the onlookers until they stepped back a bit and then carefully squeezed past Cloudia and stepped over the body. “I also didn’t want to stay any longer with him,” she continued. Cloudia knew without Lisa needing to elaborate that she meant Milton. “His Gracelessness and Al got Mr Kamden and Mr Beauchene to sit in one of the cabins.”
“That’s good.” Cloudia pulled two knives and a train ticket from the corpse’s pockets; his cabin was the one right in the middle. Cloudia got to her feet and went inside the man’s cabin. It was empty. He had brought no luggage with him – understandable considering the situation. What truly brought Cloudia’s mind into motion was the fact that this villager had been given a ticket for a compartment for four people, even if he was left all alone. Had Yvette and Townsend travelled with an odd number? Or did the dead man have a partner? But if yes, where could they be?
There was no one hiding here, but they could be hiding in one of the other cabins, having threatened its actual passengers to remain silent. Or…
Cloudia left the compartment and looked down the corridor. The door at the end was closed. The platform was too small for anyone to get a proper run-up to be able to jump the distance between the coaches.
If the dead man’s partner had jumped to the next wagon, why would the dead man bother to close the door after them?
Cloudia retrieved her father’s dagger, holding it firmly in her hand as she slowly approached the exit door.
Why not leave it open?
Abruptly, Cloudia kicked the door open, catching the man behind off-guard and slamming it into his face. Surprised screams echoed through the air behind her. The man’s gun slid out of his fingers, tumbling one, two steps down. Before he could recover, Cloudia sliced his throat and pushed him down the stairs. She saw him hit the ground and watched him roll down the hill for only a moment – a moment in which the cabin door closest to her opened.
A man burst out of it, his gun raised. He fired, but Cloudia dodged, and the bullet collided with the railing. The metal vibrated behind her. She lifted the dagger, saw his finger about to pull the trigger again.
Before they could do anything, the man fell forward.
Cloudia fled to the narrow stairs, holding onto the bannister with one hand, as the man’s head hit the metal of the railing, then the platform’s.
“I should have waited for Newman, right?” said Lisa, bloody needle in hand.
Despite everything, a chuckle burst out of Cloudia. “Of course not.” She returned to the platform and kicked the corpse to the side before she glanced back to the corridor (squinting past the passengers who were now moving around like headless chickens, she could make out Cedric and Milton at the last carriage’s door). Then, she turned to the coach ahead.
And right into the face of a wide-eyed woman looking through the little window, having spectated everything unfold.
A passenger, maybe. Hopefully.
But then she didn’t scream, didn’t remain.
Instead, she tore herself free from her stasis and turned and ran to the end of the wagon, hammering on the cabin doors she passed.
“Damn,” Cloudia said and got ready to jump, “we need to get going.”
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 11:00
With a sigh, Cedric held onto the bannister. The wagon rocked softly under his feet, and he needed a moment to compose himself after having jumped between coaches on a running train.
This was one of the most idiotic things I had ever done.
Nausea brushed its fingers against him when Cedric glanced into the chasm between the coaches, saw the tracks running and blurring beneath. He quickly tore his gaze away from the sight and shook his head. Letting go of the railing, he turned to walk into the corridor.
Milton had jumped first.
There had been no talk. He had simply gone first, and Cedric had felt odd when Milton landed on the next wagon’s platform, looking unfazed as he glanced back at him. The image clung to Cedric still as he watched Milton talk to the passengers. Although they were in uproar and hysteria, the soothing tone of Milton’s voice managed to reach Cedric; it was like a band of calmness weaving itself through the panic and trying to bring everything under control.
Cedric hovered by the door for a moment, mesmerised by Milton gently guiding passengers back to their cabins and easing their worries with a few, to him, unintelligible words. Then, Cedric shook himself free and elbowed his way through the screeching crowd and the narrow walkway, bumping against walls and shoulders and nearly tripping over a corpse before he finally got to Milton.
Cedric grabbed Milton’s arm, careful to avoid his wrist this time. “Milton! We need to go!” he said and tried to drag him along, but Milton would not budge.
“What are you doing?” yelled Cedric. “We need to continue to the next coach!”
“What about the passengers?” replied Milton, surprisingly steadfast although Cedric pulled on him again.
“We have no time to look after panicked passengers! They will manage.”
“No, you have no time for that,” Milton retorted. “You can go ahead without me, Kristopher. I will be fine on my own.”
“I cannot just leave you behind, Milton,” said Cedric, getting even more irritated that he had to move a bit sideways to let a man push through. This space was far too cramped for his liking.
“Of course, you can. I’m sorry; that might be your way, but it is not mine.” The serious expression Milton had worn in the burning cabin crawled back onto his face. He tried to pull away from Cedric’s grip; however, just like Milton had not budged, neither did Cedric, and he held on tight to him.
“Stop being so stubborn for once, Milton. You know I cannot leave you alone.”
“I am not a child that needs to be looked after,” replied Milton with an uncharacteristic cold edge to his words that startled Cedric, “and you are not my butler. I know you don’t even want to be with me right now, so just go ahead. Mr Newman will follow soon; I won’t even be alone for too long!”
“But…”
“Kristopher. We have little time for arguments. Can…” Milton faltered for a moment. Anguish briefly washed over his face as he continued, “Kristopher, can’t you trust me for once?”
Cedric flinched slightly. For a moment, a wing beat, they only stared wordlessly at each other. “Very well,” he said ultimately; his voice sounded distant even to his own ears. “Take care, Milton.”
Cedric let go of him and immediately turned to make his way through the crowd. Just as he reached the end of the carriage and was about to jump, he heard Milton’s voice, soft and quiet but still clear over the chaos, “You too.”
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 10:57
Cloudia landed on the platform with a loud clack that reverberated through the metal. Without stopping, she opened the door – and immediately someone ran into her. Instinctively, she grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back. “What are you doing,” she said. “There is nowhere for you to go.”
The man’s eyes widened at her sight, making Cloudia wonder if she had blood on her. Then, he yelled something that sounded like “murderer!” and turned and ran, right into someone else.
“What on earth,” Cloudia heard Lisa behind her.
“We were announced, apparently,” replied Cloudia dryly and ran into the wagon. The corridor was cramped. People were looking out of open compartments, wide-eyed; others were blocking the walkway. The damn woman from earlier had been quick to alert them all.
But she had not been quick enough to escape.
Cloudia thrust people aside. Some tried to grab her, but she kicked them away. The woman flung the door at the carriage end open. Behind Cloudia, Lisa cursed and then she heard a scream and a shout. No time to turn and look. Cloudia shoved someone away, quickened her pace.
The woman set out to jump. Cloudia lunged and grabbed her jacket. They both tumbled down to the ground. The woman yelled out when she hit the metal platform. Cloudia pulled out the dagger and was about to stab the woman in the leg when someone pulled on hers.
Caught off-guard, Cloudia let out a gasp but quickly composed herself and pushed herself off the ground and around, kicking at her assailant. He let her go, and Cloudia jumped to her feet. Unlike the men from the last wagon, she could not tell if he was a Nanteuillat or not. He could be with Townsend or a passenger who could not mind his business, believing that Cloudia was the villain here. All she knew was that the man was a nuisance and that behind her the woman must have regained her composure as well.
No time, no time.
Cloudia rammed the hilt of the dagger into the man’s jaw before she whirled around. The woman had just jumped off the platform. Fleetly, Cloudia switched from dagger to gun, raised it, took aim. The woman landed on the next coach’s platform. Cloudia’s finger curled around the trigger, pushed down.
Then, Cloudia was thrown against the windowed wall. The bullet was sent flying elsewhere. Passengers screamed.
A man pinned her to the wall, a hand clasped around her neck.
Goddammit, Cloudia thought and immediately raised her gun; thankfully, she had held tight to it. Before she could pull the trigger and shoot the man’s leg, he slammed it out of her hand. He tightened his grip around her neck, and she gasped for air that wouldn’t pass to her lungs. Cloudia tried to kick him, but she was beginning to see stars, and the man, so much taller and stronger than her, pressed a knee against her stomach.
Damn, damn, damn, echoed it through her mind as her lungs burned and her vision blurred. And then she remembered something Oscar had told her years ago.
With another wheeze, Cloudia stopped struggling, closed her eyes, and went limp in the man’s arms.
A moment later, he let go of her throat. She did her best not to gasp for air immediately. She let her body sack sideways. Before the man noticed that Cloudia was still breathing, she heard a familiar “Countess!” ring through the air followed by a grunt.
Not pinned against the wall anymore, Cloudia sank to the ground and now she allowed herself to take deeper breaths. She re-opened her eyes and peered right into Cedric’s concerned ones.
“Chartreuse eyes,” Cloudia managed to press out, her voice hoarse. “Am I dead?”
“Don’t joke about that,” said Cedric and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay, Countess?”
She rubbed her neck. “Yes,” Cloudia replied. She glanced at the man sprawled on the floor, unconscious. “I hope you didn’t kill him, Undertaker.”
“I just hit him with a knife handle. Maybe I should have killed him,” Cedric said darkly.
Cloudia immediately snapped her head around to him; a poor choice because she briefly saw stars again, though she did not care at this moment. “Don’t you joke about that. You know you cannot kill anyone.”
He looked at her. “But…”
“No ‘buts’. No killing for you.” Cloudia bent down to pick up her gun and quickly checked it. At the edge of her vision, she noticed the passengers staring at them. “Lisa should still be here somewhere.”
“I haven’t seen her. I…” Cedric quietened. Cloudia raised an eyebrow in question, though he did not continue.
With a shrug, Cloudia stepped through the crowd that, now shocked and terrified by what they had witnessed, parted like jittery ghosts for her. The carriage wasn’t big, so it was not difficult to find Lisa. Breathing heavily, she stood in a compartment. She clutched a bloody needle in her hands; her hair was half-pulled from her braid, and blood bloomed across her side. Still, Lisa looked better than the man lying in front of her on the bench, glassy-eyed and stabbed to death. Behind Lisa, a woman was hugging her two children to her chest and whimpered.
“Lisa!” Cloudia called, and her maid turned to look at her. “I hate this goddamn train,” Lisa said before her face crumpled in pain.
“Miss Greene! You’re hurt; what happened?” Cedric asked when he joined them.
“I hate you too,” hissed Lisa and sank into the seat next to the petrified little family, pressing her hand against her wound. “What do you think happened, you genius? This asshole pulled me into this cabin and yanked at my hair and stabbed my side. And I stabbed him many more times in return,” she finished with a wince.
Cloudia stepped to her. “Let me look at that.”
Lisa shook her head. “I assume that woman managed to get away? You need to follow her immediately.”
“I will after I quickly fix you up.”
Lisa glared at her. “I can bandage myself up just fine, Lady Cloudia. You know that I have practice. I’m only annoyed that I’m now out of action. Please avenge me by going after that woman and Yvette and whoever else is on this damn train.”
“Very well,” said Cloudia with a sigh. “Do you have what you need?”
Lisa rolled her eyes and dug out a roll of bandages from her pocket. “Yes. Now leave with His Gracelessness before I actually bleed to death in this miserable place.”
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 11:05
The next wagon was mayhem too; only I barely registered any of it. As soon as I spotted Cloudia, my vision tunnelled and everything else went black, fell away. The passengers, the noise, even the coach itself.
The light only turned on again when I heard Cloudia’s laboured breaths.
After we found Miss Greene bloody and bleeding but alive and full of rage in a compartment, I slipped away, letting Cloudia argue with her alone. I glimpsed back at the carriage behind us and was stunned to see that it had cleared. Somehow, Milton had managed to coerce the passengers back into their cabins. He even seemed to have dragged the corpse elsewhere. Seeing the emptied, dirtied corridor, I could not help but feel bad that Milton had to move a dead body.
Even though he had not minded it at all to carry his dead employee.
I stumbled over that thought. Milton was standing on the side, and when he stepped away from the windows (what had he been doing?), our eyes met looking through the opened doors.
“Can’t you trust me for once?”
“Undertaker?”
Cloudia’s voice behind him made Cedric flinch. He quickly turned to face her, carefully obscuring her view to the door. She did not have to see that Milton was in the neighbouring wagon – at least not now as she would only get upset. Cloudia frowned at him. “Is everything fine?”
“Yes,” Cedric replied. “I was only looking around and didn’t notice you were done with Miss Greene.”
“I think saying that she is done with me is more fitting,” Cloudia said, sighing. “She insisted that I should go after that woman as she can very well fix herself up.”
“She can? That wound didn’t look good.”
“No worries; Lisa did that all the time before we met,” she told him and turned to jostle through the crowd. “Now, come. We do have to hurry and throttle some pests.”
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 11:15
Cloudia jumped first. Even before her feet touched the platform, she could hear the chaos in the wagon. She gritted her teeth together. That woman had turned out to be an absolute annoyance; she had even closed the door behind her. Cloudia went to the door and glanced through its small window but couldn’t spot her anywhere. With her hand on the handle, Cloudia craned her head to Cedric. He had still not jumped. Frowning, she watched him look back – did he look nervous or was she imagining it? – before he finally took a run-up and hopped from one carriage to the next.
“Is everything all right?” Cloudia asked. Cedric who was looking back to the previous wagon again snapped around to her.
“Yes, of course,” he said unconvincingly. “And you?” he added, his eyes drifting to her neck.
“Yes, perfectly,” Cloudia replied. She wanted to enquire further; only they had no time. Without another word, she pulled open the door and let them be engulfed with hysteria and hysterics.
A man thought it was the best moment to roll out his suitcase, blocking a good portion of the walkway. A couple started an argument with him about that. They pushed and pulled the suitcase, their faces red and their voices agitated. A mother tried to soothe her crying, screaming baby, and yelled at others around to calm down. A young man asked the other passengers what was going on, his voice becoming shriller and squeakier every time he asked. A moustached man tried squeezing through the crowd while holding a large, open bottle of water.
Pandemonium was a tin of confused and distraught passengers; Cloudia did not look forward to making her way through it.
“Please excuse us and let us through; this is an emergency,” Cloudia tried. However, when the majority neither budged nor listened, Cloudia decided to drop the courtesy and thrust people away left and right; Cedric was right behind her. She kicked the damn suitcase back into the cabin, kicked its owner for good measure, shooed away the jittery young man, and accidentally elbowed the moustached man’s face. He grabbed her jacket as he stumbled back, pulling her with him; water slopped out of his bottle. Cloudia tumbled back too but managed to find her footing back quickly.
Cloudia sighed in relief when she and Cedric finally reached the exit and could feel the fresh, cold air on their skin again. At least, there had been no incident in that wagon.
They lost no time getting to the next one. When Cloudia landed on the platform, her heart began to beat a bit faster. They entered the wagon, hurried through the passageway as best as they could. More and more electricity and excitement pulsed through Cloudia with every step she took, with every step that brought her farther and closer to the end of the coach.
One wagon.
Jacques and Yvette were only one wagon ahead of us now.
The tension, the anticipation, tried to pry her attention away, exchange it for tunnel vision and only make her focus ahead – in vain. Despite her excitement, Cloudia did not allow herself to let her attention drift away. She was hyperaware of everything – the passengers, the open and closed doors of the compartments, Cedric right behind her, assuring like a safety net – as she nudged people aside. Again, there were no incidents as Cloudia made her way forward to this wagon’s door.
And then to the next.
With a clack, Cloudia jumped on the platform five carriages ahead of the one where she had boarded the train. The platform of the wagon where Yvette and Jacques were. Cedric arrived right behind her.
I couldn’t wait to cut Yvette’s throat and get Jacques back. I was so close now but…
Cloudia put her hand on the door handle, dragged it open.
But…
A wave of foreboding hit Cloudia. She was just quick enough to turn to Cedric and grab him.
“Coun–” he began, the address torn in two when she yanked him to the stairs. Reacting swiftly, instinctively, he pulled her to him right as a bullet soared through the air.
Blood rushed through her ears. Cloudia’s hand reached for the dagger before she realised it. With cold terror did she notice its absence. It was not attached to her side anymore; she had no idea when she had lost it or where. Part of her wanted to cry but she pulled herself together and procured a knife instead. When another bullet followed the previous one, and a body followed the bullet through the door, Cloudia was there. Her knife was already raised, his gun still held low.
Cloudia slit the man’s throat.
And then the platform vibrated, and time slowed.
Again, Cedric called out to her. Again, the word was split apart.
One of Townsend’s people had been in the previous coach after all.
Another loud, panicked “Coun–” was shouted into the air when Cedric rushed between Cloudia and the new arrival…
… and trailed into nothingness when Cedric was thrown off the train.
***
June 23
About 11:30
“Cedric!”
She didn’t register the shout escaping her throat.
She was aware of nothing but the sight, the memory, the shock of seeing Cedric be shoved and – vanish.
All the rest was a blur. Cloudia was only pulled back into the now when she heard a loud clang.
She was panting, her grip iron-clad on the bloody knife. Something wet was running down the side of her head. She could not care less about that or the body on the small metal staircase. Her body forced her to put one hand on the bannister and go down the stairs to see and check.
The train was rattling through the landscape, endless fields of green and specks of houses and colour passing by.
But there was no grey, no black, no chartreuse.
Breathe in, breathe out. Deeply, steadily.
Collecting her strength, Cloudia went upstairs, ripped her hand from the railing. The rush had ebbed away, leaving her body full of ice. Fascination overcame her that she was not crumbling or breaking apart when she raised her hand to her throat, yanked the necklace free from beneath her clothes, cradled the pendant in her fist.
Undertaker, she sent to him, waited.
One second, two seconds.
A sharp inhale.
Undertaker, she tried again. Thoughts had no volume; still, she pressed as much force and insistence into that one word as she could.
One second, two seconds.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
There was no voice at the end of the line.
But as she concentrated, she could feel, faintly but surely, that there was an end of the line still.
That invisible thread, pulled taunt, vibrating like the heart beating in her chest.
As long as the pendants were intact, as long as the thread and its strangeness were running strong, she could find him.
And don’t be ridiculous, Cloudia thought to herself as she let the pendant vanish behind her clothes. She stepped away from the bannister while wiping the blood from her face.
I might not know what could kill Death and if it could be done at all.
Cloudia kicked the corpse from the stairs, though refrained from watching it go.
But it couldn’t be done like that.
I was certain of it.
The skull pendant was warm against her chest when she strode into the carriage.
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 11:35
The skull pendant was warm against his chest, its heat coaxing him awake.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was, wondered whether he was dreaming. His head hurt, his body felt sore and cold, the world around him spun…
… no, it ran past him, the train and its speed smearing all colours to a blur.
The train.
Cloudia.
Cedric heaved himself to his feet, reached out to the railing to steady himself.
The memories flowed back to me. I had followed Cloudia through the coaches until someone had shot at us and someone else had jumped from the previous wagon to ours. When he had charged at Cloudia, I had jumped between – only to get pushed off the platform.
If I hadn’t teleported at the last moment, I would lie in shambles a few kilometres back in the grass.
The thought made me shudder.
But where exactly was I now instead?
Cedric looked around, the wind tearing at his hair. At some point, his ponytail had come loose, and the band had flown away. He brushed some wayward strands from his face and adjusted his glasses.
He was still on the correct train; his impromptu teleport had not taken him elsewhere entirely, that he knew. Only, on which wagon was he right now? He had not landed at the very back at least (Cedric didn’t know how he could have explained himself that he was back there, in case Aurèle and Kamden decided to look out of their compartment at this very moment). If this was the fifth wagon from the back, it would be ideal. He could easily catch up with Cloudia then. He would not mind if it was the fourth wagon either.
Cloudia. Her name rang through my mind with such heaviness.
I knew she was fine; of course, she was. Nonetheless, the image from earlier clung to me, seeing her limp in that man’s arms.
Cedric reached to retrieve the pendant – and halted when he saw something odd from the corner of his eye: Something was attached to the carriage wall behind him.
He turned to figure out what it was and realised with horror that no, it was not something that clung to the train.
It was someone.
His heart dropped when he registered that he knew who it was.
“Milton!” Cedric cried out, just as Milton rammed through the window.
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 11:35
The annoying woman had been in this wagon too. This time, of course, not only she had alerted the passengers and beckoned them out of their cabins; the gunshots and the fight had as well. They had, however, also frozen the civilians with fear. Now, instead of wandering around, wondering, crying, arguing, they stood still in the corridor and doorsills, staring at her anxiously.
In the last few coaches, Cloudia might have welcomed the change, even if it had come at the price of such a horrific scare. Here, the sight only made cold tendrils curl up her spine.
After all, Yvette and Jacques were meant to be in this wagon.
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 11:38
It took Cedric a moment until he could move again. His mind had momentarily blanked upon the sight of Milton vanishing in a shower of glass inside the wagon.
Now, his mind replayed the memory while Cedric hastily jumped to the carriage behind him. No matter how often it ran through his head, he could not understand why on earth this idiot would do something so absurdly reckless – hadn’t they left all doors open when they passed through the train?
And if the door had somehow closed in the meantime, couldn’t he have simply opened it again?
“I will keep myself safe,” my ass, Cedric thought as he landed on the platform, took the one, two steps to the door. Anger mixed with horror and worry. He could not wait to chew out Milton for his behaviour. But when he laid his hand on the door handle and pushed it down, it did not budge.
And when he looked up and through the door’s small, broken window, he froze again.
How could that be?
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 11:38
Cloudia hurried to search the compartments, one by one.
They were not here; they were not there.
And when she reached the last cabin, she tightened the grip on her blade, drew the door open…
… and gazed at people she had never seen before.
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 11:39
The scene in front of him was nothing if not surreal.
In bafflement, in puzzlement, Cedric watched everything unfold; his brain tried its best to comprehend the strange sequence that played before him.
Yvette was backing away, inching closer to the door behind which Cedric stood. He could not see her face; still, he knew that she must be looking terrified. After all, he could see the tension in her body.
And the horrifying look on Milton’s face as he charged at her, knife in hand.
His oddly calm expression. The bloodcurdling blank fury in his eyes.
Blink; Milton turned the knife in his hand. Cedric hadn’t even registered that he had been holding it oddly, had been grasping its blade before.
Blink; the space between them was conquered.
Blink; the knife was raised.
Blink – and Milton was pulled back.
The moment was broken, the tense seconds shattered as Newman grabbed Milton’s arm and yanked him back.
Yvette, unhurt, stumbled back, and lost something in her haste to get away.
It tumbled out of her pocket, that rectangular little object, and rolled right to Milton’s feet.
Cedric inhaled sharply when he saw Milton snatch it and the look in his eyes shift.
Milton might be standing on the other end of the walkway. Still, Cedric could make out his expression as clear as day.
It was a familiar one, after all. One he had got to know only days before.
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 11:39
I cursed under my breath.
I had not excluded the possibility, of course, that Yvette or Townsend or Maxime might move between the wagons too. I had only anticipated that the probability would be rather small as they would have to jump with hostages in tow, one of which was little Jacques.
But with all that commotion, they must have seen no other way.
They could only hope for their own sakes’ that they had not decided to simply discard Jacques on the way.
Cloudia stepped away from the cabin and briefly glanced back before she opened the door and jumped to the carriage ahead.
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 11:40
“I wondered if it were you. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Baron Salisbury,” said Yvette and straightened up. Cedric could hear the smile in her voice. He would have broken open the lock, bolted through the door, and torn it right off her face if Maxime hadn’t come out of a cabin at that moment, a blade pressed against Jacques’ throat. He was followed by a man Cedric didn’t know who levelled a pistol at Milton and Newman.
Damn, damn, damn.
Yvette, Jacques, and Maxime were here, in a completely different coach than we had anticipated. Cloudia was ahead, trying to find them. Newman and Milton were with them – and my hands were bound.
If I made myself noticed, at best, Maxime and Yvette would threaten to cut Jacques’ throat if I did not stay back. At worst, they might kill him immediately, the suddenness of me breaking the door or whatnot possibly spooking them enough to draw the knife across his neck.
I could not even teleport myself behind Yvette, Maxime, and the gunman and knock them out in secret because of Milton and Newman.
I had to find another way, another opportunity, to get inside. For now, all I could do was turn myself invisible, in case Yvette, the gunman, or Maxime spotted me through the window, and listen to their conversation with my teeth clenched.
Goddammit, Milton; couldn’t you have a better poker face?
“Townsend told me about your company,” Yvette continued, delight dripping into her voice. “How Salisbury Trading, already successful, thrived with you as its head, Mylord, and established itself as one of the quickest transportation companies that exists, if not as the quickest one. And how secretive you are. However, Townsend still managed to take a glimpse at some machine blueprints while he ‘worked’ for you. His father used to work on machines in a factory and told him a lot about his job, did you know that? Townsend himself was never adept with technology; nevertheless, he knew from the moment he saw those blueprints that they were unlike anything he had seen before.
“When he told me all that, all I could think was what a waste it is to hide machinery like that. You could become richer than you already are; you could become more known than you already are. Instead, you keep everything away and yourself too. Not a singular picture of you in any newspaper! There was only some hearsay about golden hair.” The delight in Yvette’s voice darkened to something bitter. “You could have everything, but you hide yourself because of ‘humbleness.’ I could laugh! Selfishness is all that is. I even viewed you as tyrannical for withholding those blueprints and the people behind them. At the same time, I could not help but wonder if Salisbury Trading’s prodigious accomplishments are truly coming from its employees or actually from its elusive director.”
Yvette made a step towards Milton. Cedric tensed when she reached into her pocket, but she only procured a pair of handcuffs, not a weapon. He still did not like it at all what Yvette must want with it.
“Mylord,” Yvette said, boasting with confidence. “I have a proposal for you. I will hand over Jacques to your companion. In exchange, you will remove your weaponry, return the Queen’s box to me, put on these handcuffs” – she lifted them – “and come with me, Maxime, and Stevens with no protest. We would also lock Jacques and your companion in one of the cabins. It’s not long until Paris anymore. When we arrive, I’m sure Miss Watchdog or someone else in her entourage will free Jacques and your companion. By that time, we will be long gone and traversing the city until we find a nice, quiet place for you to open the box. Of course, if you refuse, Maxime will slit Jacques’ throat.” On cue, Maxime tightened his grip on the boy, and Jacques whimpered. Cedric clenched his jaw. “And if your friend there tries anything, Stevens will, of course, shoot you both.”
Yvette held the handcuffs out to Milton. “What do you say, Mylord?”
“Do you not have the Clockmaker in your grip? Why would you require another to solve the box?”
To everyone’s surprise, it was not Milton who responded but Newman. Cedric sucked in the air when he heard his friend’s voice and wished he had a better view of him and Milton. Yvette, Maxime, Jacques, and Stevens the gunman were in the way, and Cedric could only vaguely make out that Milton turned to Newman. Cedric pictured him looking aghast and was sure that Milton must be saying something in protest to Newman, though he could not hear it.
“Of course, we have that disagreeable Clockmaker in our grip,” replied Yvette. For once, Cedric was happy that Florentin was like he was; he must have made the journey to Creil rather unenjoyable for Yvette and Townsend.
He should not have let himself be taken though. Even if they had held Jacques hostage.
“I simply like having options,” Yvette continued. “And as you can see, the box is a unique oddity – just like the Baron’s machinery. The Clockmaker seems to work with the old, the Baron with the new. Between the two, they should be able to open the puzzle box. Now, what do you say, Baron Salisbury?”
“Yes, of course,” Milton said with shocking immediacy.
“Baron Milton,” gasped Newman in a mirror of Cedric’s thoughts.
“What other decision is there for me to make, Mr Newman?” Milton said before he addressed Yvette. “I will put on the handcuffs, and then you will hand over Jacques at the same time as Mr Newman will surrender me and the box to you.”
“And then, you will remain with Maxime until Jacques and Mr Newman have let themselves be locked up,” added Yvette.
“Exactly.”
“Lord Milton, don’t!” cried Jacques. Maxime tightened his grip on him anew, and he whimpered again. Cedric could hear the tears in his voice as Jacques still strained to continue, “You can’t let them have the box! It doesn’t matter what happens to me!”
“Don’t say something like that, Jacques,” Milton replied softly. “This is just a box, and what kind of queen would place a keepsake above the life of a child?” Yvette shifted a bit to the side, allowing Cedric to see Milton pass the knife he had still been holding in his left hand to Newman. Only then did Cedric notice its familiar glint.
How did Cloudia’s father’s dagger end up with Milton?
Milton proceeded to remove his odd utility belt and gave it to Newman too. Just when he took the handcuffs, Jacques cried out again. “They won’t let you go, Lord Milton! No matter if you cannot open it or if you can!”
“That is fine,” Milton said with an odd voice. The handcuffs clicked loudly into their locks when he bound himself. “There is nothing they can do to me that is new.”
With that, Milton stepped forward. “The box for the boy, me for their survival.”
“Yes, of course, Mylord.” Yvette beckoned Maxime to her. He dragged Jacques forward, keeping the knife pressed to his neck, until they were standing next to Milton in this narrow space. Newman was behind Milton, Yvette stood behind Maxime, and Stevens remained where he was and pointed his weapon at Milton.
“Lord Milton,” sobbed Jacques.
“Do not be afraid and go to Mr Newman as fast as you can when you’re released,” Milton replied and held the box out to Yvette. Now that Milton was closer, Cedric could see the serene expression on his face better and the engravings on the box. “Miss Guilloux?”
“Flattered that you know my name, Baron Salisbury,” said Yvette and grabbed the black box in his hand, though she only lifted it from his palm the moment Maxime let the knife sink.
Then, everything happened in short succession.
Maxime nudged Jacques to Newman. Newman pulled the boy behind himself. Yvette took Milton’s arm, dragged him to her.
With a glance over her head, Milton turned and rammed his shoulder into Yvette, thrusting her back into Stevens.
A bullet was released. A scream was heard.
Stevens was pressed against the door. Cedric broke the lock and threw the door open.
Stevens stumbled backwards. Although he didn’t fall through the open door, Cedric was still there to catch him and yank him to the side. He fought against the itch to shove him down the stairs and dodged when Stevens fired at him, the bullet flying half-heartedly past his leg.
Cedric hastened to take the pistol away from him but was suddenly overpowered and pushed too. For a moment, his stomach fluttered as he feared to be kicked off the train again. Instead, his back hit the cold metal railing, the bars digging into his clothes. He clenched his teeth, and when Stevens raised the gun to his head, Cedric slapped it away, sent it flying into the landscape.
Cedric had just taken hold of Stevens’ wrist and twisted it until it broke – a body injured was no life taken after all – when he noticed someone rushing past them, escaping to the next wagon.
Yvette.
Cedric’s curses mixed with Stevens’ wails of pain. He punched him in the face, knocking him out, before he turned, ready to follow her. But she had already vanished in the carriage, making her way through it – and getting closer to Cloudia.
Go, Cloudia! Get her!
With a smile, Cedric dropped the unconscious man on the platform and quickly checked if this had not accidentally killed him and cost him his job and existence before he hurried inside. Adrenaline and worry pumped through him. There had been a gunshot, and he had no idea if the bullet had hit anything, anyone, and Maxime had been right behind Milton with a knife too.
The instant Cedric stepped into the wagon, he realised that his worry had been unfounded. Newman stood protectively before a shaky Jacques, and Milton stood above an unconscious Maxime. He was still handcuffed and although he was a bit dishevelled, Milton seemed perfectly fine when he turned to Cedric and said, “Kristopher! Are you all right?”
Cedric pressed his lips into a grim line and grabbed Milton by the shoulders. “What are you doing, you idiot!” he yelled and shook Milton. “I saw you climb around outside a moving train! Break through a window! Pawn yourself off and take a gamble tackling someone with a gun! What happened to keeping yourself safe?!”
He stopped shaking Milton and took a deep breath. Every conversation he had had with Anaïs and Aurèle about faeries, death, and Milton returned to him now. The possibility that Milton might be on the verge of death, his candle about to be blown out, the “complete” stamp pressed to his Dispatch file. A possibility that was both strengthened by all the nonsense Milton had done and weakened because he was still alive.
And in it all, all I could think of was Cloudia’s reaction to everything – his carelessness, his potential death.
When Cedric looked up at Milton, remorse was written all over Milton’s face. “I’m sorry, Kristopher. I didn’t mean to worry or upset you. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I hadn’t known I would be fine.”
“Have you gone mad? How on earth would you have known…” began Cedric but was cut off by Jacques wailing and hugging Milton from behind.
“Lord Milton! I’m so sorry!” he pressed out between sobs. “You got hurt because of me!” Abruptly, Jacques shrieked and jumped back. “Oh no! I got carried away! I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? Maxime stabbed you in the back after all… And the bullet must have hit you too…”
Cedric’s eyes widened. “What?” it slipped out of his mouth. “Why didn’t anyone say anything before I shook him like a rattle?” He swiftly turned Milton around to inspect the wound.
Only to find nothing. Solely his jacket was a bit chafed.
“I said I’m okay,” said Milton. Cedric could have sworn he sounded embarrassed. “I was stabbed, yes, but I am fine.”
Milton turned around, and Cedric stared at him. “The jacket,” Cedric said, dumbfounded. “I wondered why you chose to wear a suit jacket of all things for the journey. I thought you were maybe being a bit silly or forgot to pack enough practical stuff but that’s protective clothing?”
Milton smiled sheepishly. “A prototype. The test run has gone well, I suppose.”
“The test run? You chose to do a test run on a prototype now?”
“Well, it’s not the first test run…”
“And that should pacify me?!”
“… just the first one with the new amendments. It’s good to know it works well for stabs and cuts and if you’re grazed by a bullet. If I had been hit with it, the jacket wouldn’t have done anything; it’s not that far yet…”
Cedric ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You have gone mad, most certainly. A test run! Don’t use an actual criminal hunt as a test run! And why would you even need to trial protective clothing in the first place?!”
“Your Grace,” said Newman and stepped forward. “Please calm down. Excessive shouting is detrimental to your health, and you are spooking young Mr Beauchene.” Cedric opened his mouth to protest only to close it again. Newman nodded at him before he turned to Milton. He gently lifted Milton’s hands, rattling the handcuffs. “This was a particularly reckless endeavour, Mylord,” Newman stated and rummaged in his pocket. “In my life, I have only observed my dear mistress acting in such a manner, equal parts brave and imprudent.” He procured a skeleton key and began to try opening the handcuffs.
“I am sorry, Mr Newman,” Milton said quietly, sounding oddly young. “Are you fine? Have you got hurt?”
“Not at all, Mylord. I apologise; I was unable to thank you before for endangering yourself for my sake.”
“You do not have to thank me for that, Mr Newman.” Milton’s voice was almost a whisper.
Confused, Cedric looked between the two. “What happened?”
“Baron Milton broke through the window because I failed to secure my back, and the door was jammed,” explained Newman. “You even suffered an injury for my sake; I deeply apologise for that.” He took the now-open handcuffs from Milton’s wrists. However, when he tried to turn Milton’s bloody left hand for inspection, Milton hastily pulled it back.
“It is only a shallow cut,” Milton insisted. “The blood crusted already. I am fine. And you really don’t need to apologise to me or thank me, or please, least of all, don’t feel guilty, Mr Newman. It was my own choice and doing. Now, could you give me the handcuffs?”
Wordlessly, Newman handed them over alongside the utility belt; the dagger he kept. Milton took the items, put on his belt, and knelt to Maxime. Cedric had completely forgotten that they were standing around his fainted body. He glanced around a bit then and discovered another body unconscious on the ground on the other end of the walkway; Newman’s large frame had hidden it from view before. Some passengers peeked out of their compartments, and Cedric recognised the agitated couple and the moustached man from before. That explained why a portion of the ground was wet.
Milton quickly let the handcuffs snap around Maxime’s wrists and stood up again. He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it over Jacques’ shoulders. The boy’s eyes, red and poufy from crying, widened; his glasses made them appear even larger. “But, Lord Milton! I can’t take this!”
“Of course, you can,” said Milton gently. “It will help to keep you safe until we have all returned to the château. I will be fine without it too.” He smiled at Jacques. “Mr Newman? Would you be so kind and deliver Jacques to his brother or simply remain here until we have arrived in Paris?”
Newman bowed his head. Milton went to the windowed side of the corridor, stretched, and did something Cedric could not see that culminated in a flap clicking open and a row of short ropes falling out. “And if the right time comes, could you pull on these ropes?” said Milton to Newman. “Please pass this information on to the passengers here, thanks.”
With that, Milton strode to the door. Cedric, seeing red and realising that he was gradually losing his patience with him, shot out his arm and grabbed Milton’s. “I don’t think you should continue after the stunts you have just pulled and after Yvette found out that you could open the box. It’s best if you stay very far away from Yvette and Townsend, Milton.”
“I told you that I have to go on, Kristopher,” replied Milton adamantly. “There is no reason to repeat that argument; I will not budge. Regarding the box…” He was quiet for a moment. “They aren’t even sure if I can open it. And they only nearly had me because I freely handed myself over. I’ve never been kidnapped before.”
“This might be the worst situation for firsts, Milton.”
“It won’t happen.”
“Unless you’re clairvoyant, I doubt you can know for sure.” Cedric sighed. “You’re giving me a headache, Milton.”
“I’m sorry. We do have no time to argue though. It’s not long until we arrive in Paris now.”
Cedric sighed anew and glanced at Newman. “Please take care of Jacques, Al. It seems I need to take this one here through the train.”
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 11:41
Commotion, commotion, commotion.
The next wagon was a chaotic wreck too. Cloudia was tired of jostling her way through the masses and narrow corridors. Thus, when she finally spotted the woman who had caused all that, Cloudia wished she still had the dagger and didn’t have to cut her throat with an ordinary knife.
At least, when the woman spotted her, she turned in panic and tried to run – only to be held back by passengers.
She just reached the door when Cloudia slammed her against it, holding the cold blade against her neck. “Interesting, isn’t it? How things can turn out to be,” whispered Cloudia into her ear, first in French, then in English for good measure, before she slid the knife across her throat like a violinist drew a bow along the strings of their instrument. Instead of a melody, her action only coaxed gasps and screams out of the passengers who tried to pry her off the woman.
“Murderer, murderer, murderer,” they called her. Cloudia simply yanked herself free from their grips and wiped the knife on her clothes. Again, there was no sight of Yvette and Jacques. She wondered about them as she moved on to the next wagon, the last one before the locomotive.
***
~Cedric~
June 23
About 12:00
“Are you done here, Milton?” Cedric asked. Since they had left Jacques and Newman behind, they had managed to cross a wagon and were about to jump to their third. After that, there was only one carriage left between them and the locomotive which meant they had nearly caught up with Cloudia.
“Yes,” said Milton and stepped away from the windowed wall. Yet again, it was lined with the short ropes; this time, Cedric had managed to glimpse Milton plunging an odd, bi-coloured key into a small hole and turning it though.
Milton glanced at the passengers, and Cedric sighed. They had had to forgo easing the civilians back into their compartments in the last coach which had visibly pained Milton even if he understood.
“Milton, we don’t have much time. If we don’t catch them before the train enters the station, they will run off wherever,” Cedric reminded him.
Milton nodded, looking a bit absentminded. “Yes. Give me a moment, Kristopher,” he said and turned to some of the passengers to say something to them in French. He had done that in the previous wagon too, had done that throughout the entire train. Cedric had initially thought he was simply reassuring them that everything would be fine; now, he knew better.
“And if the right time comes, could you pull on these ropes?” Milton had told Newman. Cedric knew next to nothing about trains; before he met Cloudia, he had barely ridden on them before. There had not been any trains yet before he became a Grim Reaper, only wagonways. Afterwards, there had been little need for Cedric to take a train as he could transport himself wherever he liked on his own. Still, whatever Milton was doing unnerved Cedric, and he searched his memory, in vain, if he had ever seen such ropes in trains before.
Cedric wanted to ask. His body itched with the question; nevertheless, he kept his mouth closed. Something told him that Milton would either avoid answering if needed, or fall into rambling and mumbling, and Cedric really had no time to pry a proper answer from him.
“I’m done,” announced Milton and gave him a little smile.
This little gesture, so innocent and normal, paired with his earlier thoughts sent an unexpected shudder down Cedric’s spine. He had never wanted to admit it before, not to Cecelia, not even to himself. Only, with all the events of the last ten hours, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the indescribable unease that made its home within him whenever he was with Milton and write it off as mere jealousy.
***
~Cloudia~
June 23
About 11:46
Her heart beat faster when she arrived in the last coach before the locomotive.
Townsend and the others had to be here, or in the cab after all.
This wagon, unlike the previous ones, was quiet. No one stood in the passageways, wide-eyed and panicked and wondering what was going on. While Cloudia had only seen one very shoddy daguerreotype of Townsend, she could easily pick Yvette and Jacques out in a crowd. She was also confident that she could identify Florentin. The striking colour of his eyes might be dampened by his glasses, but Cedric had described them with as great care as he could.
It would be so easy to open each compartment until she found Townsend or Yvette so that she could drag them out and beat them up. It would be greatly satisfactory, though would certainly lead to yet another commotion, and Cloudia had no way of telling whether some of Townsend’s companions were here too. They might have decided for Townsend and Florentin to board alone so as not to deviate any attention to them, or for many others to board with him as to keep them safer.
However, if she stood here and waited for them to arrive in Paris, the civilians would file out of the cabins too, making it difficult to locate and reach Townsend and Florentin, Yvette and Jacques.
Cloudia clenched her teeth and turned the knife in her hand.
Beating them up would not do. She was not a barbarian but a lady after all. A clean cut would suffice, or a well-placed stab through ribs or guts.
And because Yvette must be here already, Townsend must be awaiting Cloudia. A commotion was inevitable anyway.
Cloudia was about to open the first cabin door when she saw a movement from the corner of her eye and whirled around to see.
A man had stepped onto the platform of the locomotive. He wore practical but pristine clothes, from what she could tell from afar. An easy smile decorated his face, and the midday sun kissed his gold-blond hair as he waved at her. Cloudia frowned; she had thought he had darker hair.
“Yvette Guilloux told me all about you,” said Nicodemus Townsend so loudly that his words were still clear across the howling wind and through the closed carriage door. “Miss Watchdog.”
Cloudia tightened her grip on her weapon but did not move. Every fibre of her screamed trap, the scream vibrating through her body with each heartbeat.
Thus, when a compartment door ahead opened and a gunman stepped out, she was ready. Charging forward, knife raised before he could even aim. Cloudia had intended to pierce his chest, but he had moved away at the last moment, and she cut his side instead.
He yelled out and fired, unwavering. Cloudia dodged, her heart racing and adrenaline singing through her veins. Blood dripped from Cloudia’s blade to the floor, splattered a bit through the air as she lunged again. The man blocked her knife with the pistol, thrust her back a bit. She stumbled back a step but quickly found her footing again and sent the knife flying. The gunman stepped aside, the blade grazing his cheek and lodging in the cabin door behind. Cloudia used this small window in which he was surprised, distracted, to procure one of the knives she had taken from the first assailant, the one who had shot at them and set the ball rolling.
She charged ahead. And when the man raised his gun, she stabbed him through the hand before he could pull the trigger. Cloudia ripped out the knife, coaxing a cry out of him. His body staggered back just as another rammed into her from behind.
The air was knocked out of Cloudia’s lungs. Before she could recover, strong arms took hold of her and crushed her against the ground. The wagon shook from the impact. Pain blossomed across her chest, even with the corset partially absorbing the shock. The knife clattered out of her hands, and she could hear it being kicked away.
Cloudia strained against the grip. Her attacker held on tight, holding her hands and keeping a leg pressed against her back.
“I would refrain from doing anything rash,” Townsend said, entering the wagon. He must have jumped when Cloudia was attacked from behind. He smiled again; up close, she could see it was a politician’s smile, wide and pretty but it did not quite reach his eyes. “You would not want anything to happen to the poor, innocent passengers on this train, do you?”
The gunman scowled at Cloudia, holding his injured side with his injured hand. He now held his pistol with his left hand, not with his right one, and waved it towards the row of compartment doors before levelling it at her head. Cloudia gritted her teeth together.
“I knew the Queen would send her rumoured Watchdog after me, of course,” Townsend continued. “Never in a million years, I anticipated that it would be a woman, and was stunned to hear Miss Guilloux’s report from Nanteuil-la-Forêt. Who would have thought! The underworld’s watchdog, a woman! Such a beautiful one too. An unheard thing, but then, we are undergoing times of change, times of revolution.” His smile widened; it made Cloudia’s blood boil. “Revolution brought us two together too, and I will bring revolution to the kingdom.” Swiftly, Townsend retrieved a box from his jacket. Cloudia stiffened momentarily at the sight.
The Queen’s box. Glossy black, engraved with eerie furrows that stretched across it. The object for which Cloudia had taken this long, long journey. And now, it was right before her, in the enemy’s hand.
“Oh, an object of legends! I still cannot fathom that I could behold it with my eyes, let alone with my hands.” Townsend turned the black box in his hand and his eyes lit up. “Two myths, two rumours in one train wagon. The Queen’s puzzle box containing something of national importance, and Her Majesty’s Watchdog. What a marvellous day it is, don’t you agree, Miss Watchdog?” He tilted his head. “Calling you exclusively ‘Miss Watchdog’ like unrefined French village girls do is rather rude, is it not? You know my name; am I not entitled to know yours too?”
“It’s hilarious that you care not to be perceived as rude as if one of your men wasn’t pressing me against the ground and another wasn’t pointing a gun at me,” returned Cloudia.
Townsend laughed. “The woman talks, how lovely! And it’s all very well for you to talk too. Have you not come to me with the objective of vicious murder?
“You will not believe it, but I do not blame you for that. You are merely a victim of the system, after all. Though not for long when the Clockmaker opens the box for me.” Townsend sighed. “All that could have been avoided if they had not kept rejecting our petitions. It is not our fault that we were driven to take such drastic measures.
“What did we demand? Secret ballots, that all men above twenty-one should be able to vote, that everyone should be able to become a member of the parliament, frequent changes of parliament, equal electoral districts, and payments for members of parliament! They even rejected the last point. We have done our best to make ourselves be heard peacefully. See? Our demands were not even outlandish; we did not want to see Queen Victoria dethroned and beheaded. We only wanted to be heard.” A grin spread across his face, and he gently ran his hand over the box. “And heard we will be.” He pocketed the box and put his arms behind him. “Do not worry, Miss Watchdog. We do not wish any harm; we only want things to be better.”
“Yes, and for that, you kill innocent workers and villagers,” said Cloudia bitterly.
“They died for a higher cause. If you killed me now and took the box from me, wouldn’t their sacrifices have been in vain? This, my dear, is true villainy.”
Cloudia heard the clack of someone landing on the metal platform and cursed under her breath when it was not immediately followed by a shout or a gunshot or anything. Where was Cedric?
“Oh, my, there we meet again, Miss Watchdog,” Yvette said as she squeezed around Cloudia to stand before her.
“Where is Jacques?” Cloudia demanded to know.
“Ah, did you assume I fled to the front? I took little Jacques with me and went towards the back of the train after Maxime noticed you in the train station. It was a pain to make Jacques jump; thankfully, Maxime was with us too.
“Your friends are just as obnoxious as you are, do you know that? They got Jacques back, and if it had not been for Maxime, they would have caught me.” Yvette bent down to Cloudia and grinned. “All the more satisfying to see you caught.”
Yvette stood up again. “A few minutes until Paris now. They will crawl out from everywhere to chase us then; we need to be vigilant and escape on time.”
“Yes, of course,” replied Townsend. “Let’s head to the locomotive, Miss Guilloux,” he continued and something about the way he said that and Yvette’s smile in response bothered Cloudia. Yvette jumped first, and Townsend waved at Cloudia again before he followed her.
His henchmen, of course, stayed behind.
Cloudia was beginning to feel sore in this position. She knew she would be covered in bruises despite Wilbur’s special corset.
“Do you think Townsend would mind it if we blew holes into her pretty head?” enquired the gunman and bent down to press the barrel against Cloudia’s head. “It’s not as if he has any use for her, right?”
“A waste of such a pretty thing,” replied the man holding her down. “But she is only trouble. It’s better if she’s dead.”
The gunman grinned and moved the pistol down to her side. “Dirty girl stabbed me in the side; maybe, I should return the favour in the same area,” he mused.
Now that the gun was away from her head, Cloudia was about to try freeing herself, driven by the need to knock out his teeth, when she heard a godly, lovely clack.
The gunman yelled out in agony, his pistol flying out of his hand, just as the other man was pulled off her. Cloudia jumped to her feet, glimpsed Milton ahead of her by the end of the wagon, and fleetly rammed her knee into the gunman’s face. He was knocked out instantaneously, and she was maybe a bit too giddy to see that he had indeed lost a tooth or two.
Cloudia then looked around and saw Cedric uppercutting the other man into unconsciousness. She smiled watching him hastily check his pulse and place him on the ground with a sigh. She wanted to speak to him, to him and Milton both, but there was no time for that yet.
Unholstering her gun, Cloudia ran along the walkway to the front.
She was about to jump – and staggered back right before.
Townsend and Yvette had decoupled the locomotive from the rest of the train.
Yvette stood in the cab, happily waving at Cloudia as the gap between them widened.
Taking a deep breath, Cloudia took a run-up, bracing herself to make a longer jump than she had to do before when, suddenly, an arm was slung around her waist, pulling her back into the carriage. She yelled out, protested. The door was kicked shut. A terrible sound rang through the train. Milton shouted, “Kristopher! Pull on the ropes!”
Everything rattled and tilted – the wagon, the ground, Cloudia herself. If she had not been held, she might have fallen. The wheels shrieked like banshees, piercing her ears, echoing terribly through her skull.
And then the train came to a halt.
Right before an explosion sounded in the distance.
***
June 23
About 12:07
What on earth? Cloudia thought breathlessly as her mind and body slowly adjusted to the world calming down.
The hand on her waist was pulled away. In her periphery, Cloudia noticed Milton gazing through the door’s window. Her ears were still ringing from that hellish sound and the shrill wheels. Cedric appeared next to her. He said something that she could not make out. A brief wave of dizziness washed over her. Nonetheless, Cloudia forced herself to stumble to the window too and see for herself.
Their wagon and the rest of the train were standing still. The locomotive was several metres ahead of them and giving off unusual amounts of smoke.
What on earth? Cloudia thought anew and rubbed her ears awake.
“Are you all right, Countess?” she finally heard Cedric say. This time, she knew to nod. Passengers came out of the cabins, their voices hammers that punched against her bruised ears.
Someone emerged from the cloud of smoke outside too, running away.
“Countess?” said Cedric behind her just as she kicked open the wagon door, jumped out, and ran.
***
London, England, United Kingdom – May 1843
~Cloudia~
After the tense conversation in her father’s office, Barrington had insisted that he would remain in the Phantomhive townhouse. Cloudia did not exactly mind having him around even if he could be a handful; only the circumstances and the length of his stay made her stomach churn.
Barrington was rooting himself in her townhouse to keep an eye on Oscar, and he would only dislodge when Oscar was gone again. This did not refer to Oscar eventually passing away (Barrington would have preferred if it did, particularly if Oscar died in the foreseeable future; Cloudia would rather kill them both than live with them for decades) but to Oscar’s moving date. The Queen had provided him with a secret house because Oscar could not stay with Cloudia forever after all.
Cloudia might need to watch over him, but his constant presence in her homes would prevent her from receiving visitors and fulfilling any of her societal duties. In the brief time Cloudia had known Oscar, she was rather sure she could tell him to stay in a room with an adjourning bathroom and not come out, and he would obey with no protest or difficulty. He would likely survive being locked up like that. It felt horrendous though, to retrieve Oscar from a cell and throw him in another. His movements were limited now already, restricting them even more to a single room seemed too much.
But then, as Barrington had drilled into her, Oscar was a serial murderer who did not deserve anything at all.
The day had stretched itself long and thin due to all the hostility Barrington had brought with him. They had taken lunch all together; throughout it, Barrington had been on the verge of cutting Oscar’s throat with a steak knife. For dinner, Cloudia had simply sent Oscar to eat alone in his room.
Now, although Cloudia had done nothing all day as she was still recovering from her last attack, she was exhausted. When they had all retreated to bed for the night, Cloudia had been surprised that Barrington had not insisted on chaining himself to Oscar (with a chain long enough that they did not have to sleep in the same room, of course).
The Queen had said the house would be ready after a probation period of a month for Oscar. If this was what the first day of living with him and Barrington was like, I wished I could hibernate for the next few weeks. Perhaps, I could temporarily move in with Kamden.
Right after Cloudia finished a chapter of her book, Oscar knocked softly on her door before letting himself in. “You looked like you wanted to talk to me all day,” he explained. “I hope it is not too late.”
“No, I don’t think I could have fallen asleep with all these questions on my mind,” Cloudia said and put her book on the bedside cabinet. “You can sit down by the desk or vanity if you like.”
Oscar shook his head. “I prefer to keep standing. What do you want to know after you spoke to Weaselton?”
“Did you ever do anything personal to Barrington? He hates you so much; it makes me wonder whether you spit into his tea once.”
“No, not at all,” Oscar replied and went to stand by the window. The drapes had been pulled across it, blocking out the world beyond. “Weaselton has always disliked me for the same reasons as everyone else does. It’s unsurprising that this dislike intensified into hate. I did murder plenty of people after all, though I never spit into anyone’s tea, no matter how annoying they were. Trudy’s best friend tended to be rather bothersome, and my old partner knew very little about personal space. I have become quite accustomed to this type of person because of them. I suppose I did not mind Simon’s company because he was the opposite.”
“I see.” Cloudia dug her fingers into her blanket. “Barrington does not trust you.”
“This is very obvious to everyone, yes.”
“His distrust is not baseless though.”
“Of course. Now you are asking yourself if you can trust me?”
“Yes,” said Cloudia firmly.
Oscar leaned against the windowsill and crossed his arms. “This is something you have to decide for yourself,” he said. “I cannot make you trust me. Any plea of mine will fall on deaf ears if even a part of you simply does not want to place any confidence in me. I have no desire to make any plea though; I do not care if you believe in me or not.
“However, I remind you that this current situation is of your own doing. You do not need to trust me for us to work together, but you must figure out if the distrust you harbour for me impedes our cooperation and makes you lose confidence in your own choice. I can only say that I have neither any desire nor incentive to betray you.”
“And do you have no desire to kill anyone too?” Cloudia enquired Her heart raced at the question.
“I have no desire to kill anyone unless I must.”
“Really? Was it like that with your victims too?”
Oscar looked blankly at her. “Yes,” he said, making her shiver. “I hope you are well aware that I cannot impart any details of my crime to you.”
“Yes, of course.” Cloudia hesitated before she asked, “Do you think you must kill the person that opened your basement door?”
Oscar did not flinch, did not stiffen; he only became very, very still, and it was more than enough of a sign that Cloudia had caught him off-guard. She could not believe she had managed to do that. The implication of it, however, prevented her from rejoicing internally. She only tightened her grip on the blanket, her blood running cold.
“No,” Oscar said ultimately. “I have never had the desire or even the thought to kill or harm that person.”
Cloudia blinked at him. “Truly? Barrington was certain that you plotted to take revenge since you were imprisoned and would now wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.”
“Weaselton has nothing but a lively imagination. As I said, killing that person has never crossed my thoughts and it never will.” Oscar looked at her. “You do not need to worry about the wellbeing of a person you do not know and likely never will. If you do not take my word for this, I’m afraid I can only offer Rowan’s as well.” Like the last time, he had mentioned the police commissioner, a shadow crossed Oscar’s face. “There are not many who know about that person’s identity and know that I would not do what Weaselton is theorising.”
“Only Rowan? Not Mayne too?” Cloudia wanted to know.
“Yes. They may be joint police commissioners, but Rowan has always handled everything connected to me. Although Mayne surely knows some things about my crimes and imprisonment, the details are only privy to Rowan within the Metropolitan Police.”
“I’ve been wondering,” said Cloudia, “why you don’t seem to like Rowan. Not because I believe he is someone so pleasant it would be shocking if someone did not like him but because I know you have known him since your military days. He recruited you to Scotland Yard too. I assumed you, at least, tolerated each other until your imprisonment and was surprised to notice that you cannot even say his name without looking like you’re about to vomit.”
“Well observed,” Oscar said dryly. “You are right. I’ve known Rowan since I was fifteen years old because we were both part of the 52nd Oxfordshire Regiment of Foot. At first, he was the regiment’s second-in-command, and he became my commanding officer when we were sent to Ireland years later. As such, Rowan became one of the few people I ever told about Trudy as I had to ask him for permission to get married. I wish we had delayed our wedding a little because he retired from the military not long afterwards. Things might have turned out very differently if Rowan had never known about Trudy, and Trudy had never known about him.”
“What… what do you mean?”
Oscar’s eyes darkened. “We have spoken about trust. Harm lies in both baseless distrust and misplaced faith. I told you what Trudy was like. She was the most wonderful, intelligent person with a heart full of trust, though she never gave away her trust freely. However, because Rowan was the person who had, in her words, ‘looked after me’ since I was a teen and I had no family left, she reached out to him to give him a chance. He attended our wedding; he knew about my children.”
Even though Oscar grew quiet, Cloudia could see that he could barely restrain his feelings. She might not have known him for too long but, to her, Oscar was someone who was mostly calm and collected; someone who did their utmost to conceal their emotions, or who had difficulties expressing them plainly and openly. Most of the time, he seemed oddly subdued, and it was very difficult, albeit not completely impossible, to read him. His mask had cracked before though. Unbound feelings had broken through his surface when Oscar had spoken about his family in that inn after Cloudia had retrieved him from the asylum and in the parlour a few days earlier.
The gentleness and plain love that had found their ways in the tone of his voice and the lines of his face had startled her then; now, the pure loath that seeped through with every word Oscar spoke as he went on did too.
“I do not care for my own life, Lady Phantomhive. I am not thankful that you saved it; you will, however, have my deepest gratitude for preventing my execution and making Rowan seethe. He must have counted down the days until I was finally dead, and he could wash himself free of me. Only he could not have foreseen what you had planned. Now I am still alive, and Rowan cannot do anything about that unless he can prove that I violated the terms of our contract, Mylady.
“I’ve known Rowan for most of my life and, still, I have not realised until recently how despicable a man he is, and it brings me great joy to know that my existence continues to haunt him and that I can now work for you, his despised Queen’s Watchdog, and against him.”
#watchdog of the queen#main chapters#kuroshitsuji#cloudia phantomhive#undertaker#fanfiction#ANOTHER CHAPTER AFTER 84 YEARS!!!#I anxiety wrote and edited it#please cross your fingers for me that uni people will answer my emails next week#I'm dying orz#anyway#this chapter does not have over 30k words#I couldn't have done that anyway and the last and only 30k chapter still haunts me#it ended up being almost 15.5k because I last-minute decided to add the 1843 section#that one's for you A-chan! XD#I also noticed that next chapter is the 30th MAIN chapter and omg#500k in 30 (main) chapters would be it!#'just' 20k to the goal orz (kill me)
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Good morning dearest Sue!
I know that you're currently extremely busy and that there's too much pressure on your shoulders, but I still hope that you know how much I miss you and that I think of you? I keep my fingers crossed for your exam and wish you the very, very, very best, because you really deserve it, especially for as hard as you work!
Unfortunately I've no idea how I could relieve your worries and stress, but please be aware that I'm there for you! You're not alone and I would really do my absolute best if you knew how I could help you. You're such a kind, loving and attentive person, there's no way you deserve even slightest bit to feel so bad and it pains me to know that you have to go through this!
I promise you that you're stunningly beautiful; that you've a heart of pure gold; that you're unconditionally loved; that you're undoubtedly bright and smart; that you're incredible talented; that you're extraordinary! And you're so much more that your fears and insecurities might make you believe!
Of course I don't know how well prepared you're realistically, but I do know how persistent and hard working you're. I believe in you no matter how well you do on your exams because I know that whatever you do, you always do your best and never give up!
I would like to ask you to take a short break, think about how far you've come, what you've achieved and how much impossible you've made possible. You've survived so much, have never given up and you should be really proud of that! At least I'm ♡
My thoughts are with you and I'm sending you a big, thight hug!
Oh Luna 😭😭🥺🥺
I hope it's okay if I answer your two asks like this and I apologize for my way to short reply. I have read your messages so many times since you sent them!! They have been my encouragement and motivation😭❤️ Omg, what would I do without you, my love? Seriously! I am so ENDLESSLY grateful to have you in my life and to call you my dear friend💜💜🥺🥺
Ugh, I'm so dead, my brain feels like total mush. I'm so tired because I barely slept last night - I woke up almost every hour - and I'm still pretty nervous and tense. But I did it - I'm finally done with the exam. Kind of... I have absolutely no idea how it went, whether I passed or not. But I did my best🙃 Now it's wait and see.
Omg, I panicked so hard, but not so much because of the actual questions, but because of a technical problem. The exam was online and I had to fill out a PDF with my answers. Only for some weird reasons I couldn't save my entries😱 I emailed my tutor and asked him for advice, but he didn't know a solution either. I ended up taking screenshots of every single page of the file and then submitting them to the tutor☠️☠️ Fortunately, it then worked. Gosh, I panicked so hard about it that my face was all red and my whole body was shaking😅😅
I am so relieved right now. But still pretty worried about everything... I think I'll take the rest of the day off (even though the next exam is in two weeks🙃). I admit, I really need some rest and a break, maybe a little nap or a short walk. Anything is fine with me at the moment, as long as it doesn't have to do with the uni😅
But how are you doing, Luna? How is everything with you? I hope you are taking good care of yourself and spending a nice time with all of your F/Os. They all love you soo much. And so do I. I miss you so much, Luna. And I apologize for hardly talking/writing with you lately😔 Is there anything I can do for you, my dear? I love and value you so so much!💖❤️ I'm sending you LOTS of tight and comforting hug right back at you!!🤗
Once again, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, Luna. And also to @ajokeformur-ray Erika and all the other loving people who have been there for me these past few days🥺🥺😭😭 All your kind and encouraging words have been such a tremendous help!! I owe so much to you guys. I don't think I could have done this without you🥺 Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you all so incredibly much💜💜💜
#Lunaaa😭😭❤️❤️#I love you sooo much!!💜#Thank you for EVERYTHING!!!#luna is on mars#answered ask#about me
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Twins One Shot - Penthouse Pairings
TITLE OF STORY: Penthouse Pairings
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One Shot
AUTHOR: cheers-mrhiddleston
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Twin AU - Thomas, Amanda, and OFC
GENRE: Erotica
FIC SUMMARY: Thomas and Amanda decide to have a staycation weekend while William is away, and while staying at their hotel, they find someone who shares a few of their interests.
RATING: M
WARNINGS: EXPLICIT Sexual content, FFM Pairings
AUTHOR NOTE: HI HAVE SOME SMUT. This is different from some of our usual stuff but it’s really hot and also meant to give a bit of development for Amanda. Please let us know if you like it and just ignore any cosmetic errors, I types most of this on my phone
Amanda held Thomas’s hand under the water in their bath, leaning back against him. Her head was resting against his shoulder, and she sighed in contentment. Thomas free hand played with her hair by her temple, unable to completely run his fingers through the bun she wore.
“My turn,” Thomas said, continuing the question game they were playing. “What’s something we haven’t done that you’d like to?”
“Sexually?”
“Yes.”
She bit her lip. “There are things we haven’t done?”
He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations in his chest run through her. “A few. For example, I’d rather like to fuck your ass until you can’t even remember your name.” His voice and his touch were so soft compared to the dirty words he said.
Amanda swallowed. “Noted.” She thought for a moment, wondering what else there could be. Thomas had introduced her to so much, she wasn’t sure there was anything else she could ask for.
Suddenly, she was hit with a memory of a lost night at school, and her grip on Thomas’s hand tightened.
“Well,” she started, nervously looking down to the bubbles on the water, diminishing the longer they sat in the bath. “Um… do you remember how, um, I once told you that I used to be with… with a few girls, in uni?”
She felt him inhale a breath, but nothing else changed. “I do remember, darling.” The low timbre in his voice touched something inside her. “You were exploring, hm?”
“I was. And, um, I really liked it. Being with men and other women.”
Thomas’s hand left her temple, slowly trailing down her neck, her collarbone, and finding her breast under the warm water. “You want to play with more women, baby?”
She thought about the question, what he was asking. “I… I think so. But it’s not —I love you, Thomas, and —“
“Darling,” he stopped her before she could ramble. “I know. Don’t worry about that. Remember our talk about monogamy, okay?” His finger lazily circled her nipple, feeling it get harder under his touch. “I think it’s a great idea if you wanted to explore your sexuality a bit more, baby. Anything that would make you happier.”
His words made her heart swell with love; he was so understanding and caring, it made her unable to think. She turned, arching her head up to look into his face. “You think so?”
“Absolutely, baby.”
She couldn’t help the smile that grew on her lips, struck by a sudden idea. “Maybe, maybe we could pick up another girl. Together. Like, like how you and William used to.”
God, he was so proud when she said things like that, growing more confident in her sexuality every day. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Amanda. Someone for both of us to play with. Whenever you want to do that, or you find someone who may be interested, just say the word, alright?” He gave her a tender kiss on her forehead, and she blushed at his touch. He sighed, seeing her eyes full of so much love. “Not to get off topic, love, but I have a surprise for you.”
Her brows raised on her forehead. “You do?”
“I do.” He cupped her cheek, holding her closer. “When William leaves for New York next week, I got us a place at a hotel downtown. Just for the weekend. But something fun for the two of us, so I can spoil you.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “A place, meaning…”
“A two story penthouse. Nothing too flashy, though. One of them came with a butler, but I didn’t think we needed that.” He smirked.
She laughed in surprise, shaking her head. “You’re too much.”
Thomas wrapped his arms around her small frame. “You love it.”
“I do.” She gave him a peck to his lips. “Thank you, Thomas. I’m so excited.”
He knew she would be. He held her closer, kissing her again, thoughts of everything the two of them shared filling his head.
Thomas and Amanda sat at the hotel bar, Thomas’s hand resting on the small of her back as he ordered her a cosmo and a whiskey for himself.
She couldn't help but smile. She loved when he took her fancy places, whether it be hotels, restaurants, or expensive shops. When he spoiled her, showered her with new things, it was his way of showing her how much she meant to him. Even on a staycation such as this, Thomas pulled out all the stops. He really was a romantic at heart.
The hotel was so nice, she couldn’t help but look around to study in depth, since she hadn’t taken the opportunity when they checked in. Their penthouse was gorgeous, too, with a terrace overlooking the lights of London, and a big, white bed that she was sure they’d get to know very well later on in the evening. And probably a few other surfaces too.
Just as the bartender set down their drinks, Thomas’s phone rang in his jacket pocket.
He sighed when he stared at the screen, and considered for a long moment before turning to Amanda. “It’s Preston, darling. He should know not to call unless --”
“Go,” she said without question, touching his arm to reassure him. “He won’t stop calling until you answer. I’ll be here.” She bit her lip with a knowing look. “Waiting for you.”
He huffed out a sigh of relief, gave her a kiss to the forehead, and strutted off to the lobby to answer the phone.
Amanda merely shook her head and grabbed her cosmo. The perils of dating a drug lord, she supposed.
Just as she was about to pull out her own phone - check her emails, scroll pinterest to kill time - when the seat next to her was filled.
“Drinking alone?” said a soft voice, and Amanda turned her head to find its source.
A tall, sleek woman was sitting next to her, with long, perfectly waved black hair the color of ink running down her shoulders. A navy dress highlighted the accents of her body, and her copper skin seemed to glow even in the dimly lit bar. Dark, nearly black eyes were watching Amanda, and her manicured hand came up to fiddle with her silver necklace.
She was gorgeous.
Amanda swallowed, and offered the woman a nervous smile. She suddenly felt underdressed in her presence, even though she wore a simple black dress that hit her just above the knees. Her favorite date night dress, since Thomas hardly ever had to do much to get her out of it.
“At the moment, yes,” she answered truthfully, angling her body towards the woman and crossing her legs. “My boyfriend’s taking a call.”
“Ah.” Her dark eyebrows quirked up, and she smiled. “His loss.”
Amanda felt herself blush, but didn’t respond.
She turned towards the bartender, and asked for a martini, and within a split second it was in her hand. “Now you’re not alone, at least until he’s back.”
“That’s kind of you,” Amanda said, and quickly gave the woman a once over, trying to understand her intentions.
She stuck her hand out, offering it to Amanda. “I’m Janeen, by the way.”
Amanda gave hers in return. “Amanda.” When their hands separated, she wondered if she imagined the way Janeen’s touch had lingered a moment longer than necessary. “What brings you to London?”
“A wedding, actually.” Janeen gestured across her body, showing off her dress. “I just left the reception. Awfully boring people, if you ask me. I might have been the first to leave.” She sipped the martini. “Perks of booking a room in the same hotel, I can always give the ‘I’m just popping up to my room’ excuse.”
Amanda chuckled and sipped her own drink. “I suppose that’s not a bad idea.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ve got it through the weekend, too, in case I want to wander. I haven’t been here in months.” She answered Amanda’s next question before she asked. “I work in Copenhagen, but London’s my first home.” Another sip. “And you? Visiting?”
She shook her head, setting her drink down. “Just a sort of… weekend to ourselves. We don’t live too far but, you know. Something different.”
“Sometimes different can be fun, can’t it?” Janeen asked, and Amanda recognized the look that gleamed in her eyes. She saw it often in Thomas’s, and that very thought warranted a large sip of the cosmo.
She’d be lying to herself is she wasn’t considering the conversation she and Thomas had had the previous week. About exploring, trying new things. Amanda had suggested the idea of picking up another woman without any thought to the probability of that actually happening. Yet here was a prime opportunity: a beautiful, young woman flirting with Amanda, and who didn’t seem at all phased by the prospect of a boyfriend in the mix. And Amanda would be lying to herself even more if she said she didn’t want her - want to touch her, want to pull her silky hair, want to kiss her. Want to hear her moan as Thomas fucked her.
A hand touched her arm, and Amanda’s heart skipped when she looked up to find Thomas had returned. He always did have perfect timing.
“All’s well, darling,” he said and kissed her temple. “Taken care of.” As he went to grab his glass of whiskey, he noticed Janeen in a way he hadn’t as he had walked back to Amanda.
She certainly was beautiful, with glowing skin and thick black hair. She held her martini glass with practiced poise, and her legs were crossed like Amanda’s. Thomas noticed the way the two women were turned towards each other, the skin of their calves only touching a fraction. He’d just interrupted flirting, he suddenly realized.
A smirk grew on his face. “Who is this, Manda?”
Amanda cleared her throat, meeting Janeen’s dark eyes. “Thomas, this is Janeen. She’s staying for the weekend, like us.” She tried to smile cheerfully. “Janeen, this is my boyfriend, Thomas.”
Janeen once again held her hand out, and Thomas gently took it, raising it to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand. The action was meant to send a message to both women, and he would find out if it worked soon enough. “A pleasure, Janeen.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Thomas,” she retorted back, and she made no effort to hide the obvious once over she gave him, taking in his immaculate suit and handsome face.
Message received on that end.
Sensing Amanda’s hesitation, he stroked her arm with his thumb. “I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt —“
“Oh you certainly didn’t,” Janeen insisted, setting her drink on the bar. “Amanda was waiting for you, anyway. And she was just telling me you’re having a little getaway this weekend.”
Thomas chuckled. It had been a long while since he had flirted with someone other than Amanda, but he still had his tricks. “Not too much of a getaway, really. Just something different. Something fun.”
“I just said that! Didn’t I, Amanda?” Janeen said, her smile lighting up her face, apples of her cheeks proudly highlighted.
Amanda giggled nervously. “You did, Janeen.”
“How funny,” Thomas said, and he gave Janeen the same sort of once over she had given him, and he knew she watched him do so. “Seems we’re on the same page.”
She didn’t say anything to that, but shook her head slightly, making the waves of her hair bounce.
Amanda’s heart ticked a beat faster. She knew Thomas was waiting for her to somehow tell him this was okay, that she wanted this woman in their bed. They hadn’t had time to work this part out, some sort of code phrase or gesture to indicate a choice had been made. Hell, up until ten minutes ago, Amanda certainly never expected a choice to be made in the first place.
“I, uh, I know you must be tired after the reception,” Amanda started, putting on her best smile for when she wanted someone to listen to her. “But, maybe if you’d like to come up, for a night cap. It might help to rest and maybe take your shoes off for a bit.” Dear god, she hoped she phrased that correctly. Thomas gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Janeen’s face told her that she indeed phrased it right. Her black eyes flicked between her face and Thomas’s, and she stood, graceful on her high heels. “I think you’re right, Amanda.” She smirked up at Thomas too. “I’d love a night cap.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Thomas purred, coaxing amanda off the bar stool. She too stood, and found herself nearly the same height as Janeen. The proximity of the sleek, catlike woman made her both aroused and cautious. But she didn’t deny she wanted her.
Thomas led the two of them across the lobby, his arm wrapped around Amanda’s waist as Janeen followed on his right. Down a smaller hallway where they had come from earlier, Thomas tapped a card to a scanner, and lift doors opened.
Janeen didn’t outwardly appear confused, and when the doors closed them in, she asked, “A penthouse?”
Amanda smiled, feeling both shy and excited. “One of the ones here, yes.”
She looked impressed. “Sounds like a very enjoyable weekend.”
Thomas hummed, and his free hand came up to caress Amanda’s jaw, lightly easing her worries. “My Manda deserves only the best.” His thumb casually ran over her lips, and acting on impulse, she gave it a quick peck.
Thomas was aware of Janeen watching them, and knew at this point, all of their minds were made up. The private lift would soon drop them into the sitting room of their suite, and once in a place for themselves, perhaps they could speak more plainly.
Janeen smirked just before the doors opened. “And I’m sure she gets it.”
Oh, he liked her.
Janeen exited first, taking in the large, grand room around her. Amanda had done the same thing when she had first seen it, it was just so much to take in.
In the sitting room, Thomas cleared his throat. “About that night cap, Janeen. I’m not sure I’ve a martini handy, but I’ve had them bring up some bottles of wine.”
“Do you drink red?” Amanda asked, wanting to play her own part of hostess.
The woman grinned. “Only red.”
“Then I’ll see to that. In the meantime, please, sit.” As she did so, Thomas pulled Amanda to him, and kissed her forehead. He raised his brows, silently asking her if she was still comfortable with the evening.
Knowing immediately the response he was looking for, Amanda nodded. “Two glasses, Thomas.” She even went so far as to throw him a wink before he slipped off into the next room.
She turned, and found Janeen sitting comfortably on the loveseat, watching her movements. Her navy dress had ridden up on her thighs, and the v-neck seemed a little lower than it had at the bar.
“He’s very handsome, Thomas,” she said, patting the cushion next to her. “How long have you been together?”
Amanda sat down, crossing her ankles to not show too much in her dress. A silly thought, she realized, but oh well. “It’s complicated, but in total, about a year.” She couldn’t hide the hint of pride in her voice. “He’s fantastic.”
“So he seems.” Janeen cocked her head, studying Amanda. “As do you, Amanda.”
Before she could respond, Thomas came back in, carrying two wine glasses in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. Handing the glasses to the women, he sat on the nearby chair facing them, and met Janeen’s dark eyes as she took a sip.
“How is it?”
“Exceptional.” She even licked her lips, and Thomas inhaled sharply.
He tapped his fingers along the glass, and cast a quick glance at Amanda before saying, “Well, I’m sure you’ve surmised why you’re here.”
She grinned again. “Of course. You two want to fuck me.” She flipped her head to catch Amanda’s gaze, silky hair flowing with the movement. “And, of course, I want to fuck you two as well.”
The corner of Thomas’s lip turned up. “I’m very pleased to hear that, Janeen.” He saw Amanda biting her lip. “And you, Manda? Is that what you want?”
Amanda found herself nodding, unable to break Janeen’s gaze. “It is. I want you.”
Janeen put her glass down and touched Amanda’s thigh, and Amanda jolted closer to her at the touch. “I’m up for most everything,” she admitted before turning back to Thomas. “But forgive me, it’s been a while since I’ve been with a man.”
He chuckled and sipped his whiskey. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Janeen.”
“Good.” Her And Amanda’s eyes met again, and Amanda felt her body being pulled to hers. Janeen leaned forward more, and quietly asked, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Amanda breathed, and before she could decide to make the first move, Janeen’s lips were on hers.
She tasted like the wine, and she lips were so full, so soft. So different from either of the twins. Kissing women was always different for Amanda: a bit more familiar, more understanding, at least at first. Her mouth was warm, and Amanda offered her tongue, and Janeen met it with her own.
Amanda’s hand came up to cup Janeen’s cheek, and the other grabbing her waist. She balanced on her knees as they explored each other’s mouths, and Amanda felt her sex grow wet as each second passed.
Thomas watched the two women, their hands grasps for each other, their mouths open around the others tongue. He heard Amanda moan, and the sight began to make his cock pay attention. They were both so beautiful, they almost blended together, and he couldn’t help but notice how happy Amanda looked kissing her.
It made him proud, more than anything. That she trusted him enough to let him join while she explored her sexuality.
But at the moment, as Amanda and Janeen fell back onto the couch, and Amanda lay on top of her, he was truthfully desperately turned on.
Amanda cupped Janeen’s breast as her hands ran up Amanda’s thighs, finding her ass underher thin dress. She squeezed, long fingernails digging into the skin, and it made Amanda moan again and lean back into the touch.
Thomas wondered if it might be too soon for him to unzip his trousers and thoroughly enjoy the show before him, or if he ought to wait his turn when the women’s attention fell on him. But when the straps of Amanda’s dress fell, and her breast was exposed, he figured he might as well make the most out of the scene.
Amanda moved her lips to Janeen’s neck and tugged at the neck of her dress, finding her breast. She massaged it, pinched the nipple, as Janeen moaned and bucked her hips up. Janeen pulled at the hem of Amanda’s dress, making it bunch around her waist and exposing her bare ass, and then pushed up her own dress as well. She brought her hands back to Amanda’s thighs, and carefully slipped her fingers between them, finding her wet folds.
The touch made Amanda moan, her eyes fluttering open as she pressed a lazy kiss to Janeen’s neck. Her fingers slid over Amanda’s pussy, gently exploring, and Amanda brought her hips down a bit to encourage her further.
Her hazy eyes found Thomas, leaning back in his chair like a king. His hand was lazily stroking his long, hard cock, and his eyes were fixed on the movements of Janeen’s hand. But he felt Amanda’s gaze on him, and his eyes met hers, the lust in both of their gazes heavy. He gave himself one long stroke, and let out an approving moan that made Amanda even wetter.
They played for a minute more, Janeen’s fingers finding a rhythm that made Amanda’s knees weak. They kissed again as her touch found her clit, and Amanda gasped into her mouth.
Thomas’s thumb ran around the head of his cock, aching for something more than his hand. A thought came to his head, and he let out a breath before voicing it.
“Manda,” he said, voice laden with lust. The two women broke apart, Janeen’s fingers not stopping, but they met Thomas’s gaze with a curious look. He continued, “wouldn’t you like to taste her?”
Amanda and Janeen smiled at the idea, and when their eyes met, Amanda giggled. “Can I?”
“Abso-bloody-lutely,” Janeen responded, and after a quick kiss, Amanda was slipping back down the love seat to her spread legs.
Amanda’s heart was loud in her head, and her pussy throbbed from the lack of stimulation from Janeen. But god was she excited, turned on, and happy. She eyed Janeen’s pussy, and she was certainly glad both of them had independently decided to forego bra and panties, even if it had only saved a few seconds. Janeen was already so wet, and Amanda licked her lips. It had been years since she had tasted another woman, but after having William’s tongue work magic on her for a year, she knew a few tricks she could try out tonight.
Angling her head perfectly with Janeen, she blew a stream of cool air on her glistening clit, and Janeen moaned, reaching to grab her own breast. Smiling to herself, Amanda brought her lips to Janeen, giving her a chaste kiss right above her clit, before giving her a quick lick. She moaned again, and Amanda slid her tongue slowly all the way along her pussy, up and down, using the tip of it to circle her clit every few strokes.
It made Janeen’s back arch off the bed, and she pinched her nipple. As Amanda worked her, Janeen’s gaze met Thomas’s, and he was torn between watching his girl eat her out, or watch her reactions on her expressive face. When Janeen bit her lip and moaned, he decided to watch her, and the pace of his strokes grew quicker on his cock.
But when Amanda sucked her clit, and Janeen cried out, Thomas decided it was time for a bit more.
He stood, not stopping the way he worked his cock, and Janeen’s black eyes followed him, daring him to step closer. He did, coming to stand in front of her, and finding that the angle of her head against the arm rest was just perfect enough for him to bring his cock to her lips.
“Open your mouth, baby,” he coaxed, offering her himself. She gave him a mischievous look, and opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out. “Good girl.”
As soon as he was in her mouth, Janeen took over, wrapping her lips around him and bobbing her head, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. She moaned, and the vibrations of the sound around him made Thomas hiss. She was a natural, nearly as good as Amanda was. He noticed her rocking her hips on Amanda’s tongue, trying to work herself to climax as Amanda slipped a few fingers inside her and lapped at her clit.
Janeen’s mouth was sinful, Thomas thought, as she pulled him deeper towards the back of her throat. His hand went to her hair, which felt as silky as it looked, and pulled her head closer.
After a minute, Janeen’s moans grew quicker, louder, and Thomas realized she must be close to orgasm. Amanda noticed too, because she sucked harder on Janeen’s clit, and worked her fingers inside her.
A moment later, her legs shook, and her eyes squeezed shut as she gasped, her climax overtaking her. Amanda slowed her tongue, giving her casual licks as she came down from the high, and when her walls relaxed around her fingers inside her, she pulled them out and found them slick with her juices.
Thomas slid his cock from her mouth, and Janeen looked up at him with a look that was both satisfied, but disappointed that he was no longer fucking her mouth. Her certainly had more plans in store for this one as their night went on.
Amanda pulled herself back to Janeen, who eagerly held her hands out to receive her. Playing softly with her nipples, Amanda let herself get carried away in the kiss that followed.
Thomas watched for only a moment before he remembered the task at hand. “Darlings, should we take this to the bed?”
Breaking the kiss, Amanda nodded, their eyes never leaving each other. Janeen reached up for one more kiss, and Thomas wondered if he’d be able to move them from the loveseat.
He held out his hand and Amanda begrudgingly took it, climbing off the loveseat and balancing on her heels she still wore. Her dress fell off her hips and on to the ground, and Thomas wrapped his hand around her bare waist and offered his other hand to Janeen, who took it with a longing look at both of them.
“Bedroom’s upstairs,” he said, nodding towards the staircase down the hall. Amanda’s hands were running over his chest, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
Janeen looked impressed. “An upstairs, to a penthouse.” She shook her head. “Alright then.” Whipping her head around, she started off towards the stairs, heels clacking on the wood floors. Thomas and Amanda followed a step behind, and when they reached the bedroom, Janeen let out a chuckle. “This will definitely work.”
“I should hope so,” Thomas smirked, eyeing Amanda looking up at him with such love. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Janeen slipping out of her dress, but his attention was solely on his girl. He bent down to kiss her, and tugged on the ends of her curled hair. God, he loved her, loved what they did together, how much they trusted each other. He still didn’t find it easy to say such things out loud, but he knew Amanda knew, because nights like these were evidence of it.
He couldn’t bring himself to stop kissing her, though he was aware of the other woman waiting for them. He let out a thoughtful moan into her mouth, and broke the kiss with a great effort. “We’re not being good hosts, baby, ignoring our guest.”
Amanda sighed, knowing he was right, and finished undoing his shirt for him. “I want you, sir.”
“I know, sweet girl. You’ll have me, I promise.” He shrugged his shirt off, and turned his view to the bed, where a very naked Janeen was lounging on the pillows, watching them. He couldn’t help raking his eyes over her, her nipples hard and her tan cheeks blushed. “Go lie down with Janeen, Alright?”
Amanda happily complied, slipping her heels off and climbing on the white bed. Thomas stepped out of his trousers and shoes, making all three people in the room finally naked. He stood at the front of the bed, planning out exactly what he wanted to do with the girls, and a million different ideas came to mind, each of them better than the last.
He joined them on the bed, and reached for Amanda, spreading her legs wide and bending down to kiss her again. Janeen watched, and brought her fingers to play with herself as the couple kissed and Thomas played with her tits.
In a practiced move, Thomas easily entered amanda, her pussy wet and always ready for him. She felt so fucking good around him, and as he began thrusting into her, he brought her legs up to his shoulders, and she gripped the sheets at the deeper angle.
Janeen stopped her playing and crawled to lie next to amanda, watching her face as Thomas fucked her. Her hands ran over her torso, and she cupped her tits, pinching her brown nipples between her fingers. Amanda turned his head towards her, moaning each time Thomas thrusted inside her and bringing her hands up above her head to rest on the pillows. Janeen’s black eyes found hers, and with a smirk, she slipped her head down to Amanda’s tits, taking one into her mouth.
Thomas quickened his pace and Janeen sucked her tit, filling Amanda with pleasure so intense she couldn’t stop her gasps and little begs for more. When Janeen bit down on her sensitive skin, her hand shot to Janeen’s hair, and pulled, but she didn’t let up. Janeen moaned, moving to the other breast just as Thomas’s cock hit Amanda’s g-spot, and her eyes were wide with how full she felt.
Just a few thrusts to her g-spot and Amanda could feel herself getting closer to the edge, and she begged Thomas for more in a desperate whine.
He thrived off her begging, and did as she asked, hitting her just where she liked and knowing it would only be moments before she came around him. He watched Janeen play with her tits, and he loved how satisfied and lustful Amanda looked under them.
Just as he guessed, with a mangled cry of “Yes, yes, fuck, Thomas!” Amanda came quickly, her pussy clenching around his cock as tightly as it could, and her legs on his shoulders shaking. Janeen didn’t stop her work on her breasts, still sucking and biting her nipples throughout the orgasm. Thomas slowed as Amanda came back down from the high, and she caught her breath only as he finally pulled out. He wanted nothing more than to come inside her, but he knew he needed to wait to satisfy their guest before he took a moment to recuperate.
The image of the women before him, wrapped around each other in bliss, filled him with a sudden urge, and he grabbed at Janeen’s silky locks and pulled her off amanda, rolling her into her back on the bed.
She looked up at him and bit her lip, preemptively spreading her legs. “Is it my turn, Thomas?” Her voice was filled with want, as if she’d do anything to have Thomas inside her, to come again. Maybe she would, Thomas thought, but perhaps they could test that later.
Thomas’s hand found his cock and stroked, wet with Amanda’s juices. He cast a glance at Amanda, making sure this was what they both wanted, and with the smallest nod from her, he knew he had the go-head he needed.
He looked back down at Janeen, saw plainly how hungry she was for his cock. He wanted to see how she reacted to being full of him, at his mercy. His voice was gravely as he said “I think it is. You want my cock, Janeen?”
“God I do,” she breathed with a soft whine. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Oh you know just what to say, darling.” He moved to between her legs, and his hands pulled her hips closer to him, his cock resting just above her clit. The touch made her gasp, and she braced herself for him to enter her.
Unlike Amanda, he was slow as he entered Janeen’s pussy, which was just as wet but even tighter than Amanda had been. Her eyes squeezed shut, but she never looked in pain, and he inched his way in at a pace that he knew wouldn’t hurt. Blindly, she reached for Amanda’s hand, and when Thomas was halfway inside her, he was struck with a sudden idea.
“Manda,” he said, not stopping his movements. “Sit on her face.”
“What?”
“Come sit on her face,” he repeated, a grin growing as Amanda’s eyes widened. Janeen opened her eyes and copied his smirk, turning to Amanda as Thomas became fully seated inside her. He asked her quickly, “you alright?”
“Perfect,” she breathed, though she wasn’t looking at him. “Come on Amanda. You can ride my tongue, baby.”
Amanda had never loved being on top, with riding the twins in their office chairs being the exception, but the thought of Janeen’s tongue under her was enough to make her already sensitive clit throb with want. Without a word and still holding Janeen’s hand, she set herself upright and put her thighs on either side of her head, facing Thomas.
Janeen gave her a tentative lick, and Amanda had to keep from shaking. Across Janeen’s body, she met Thomas’s blue eyes as he pulled out of Janeen and thrusted back, testing what she wanted to take.
In response, she explored Amanda’s pussy more, her hands coming to grab her thighs and pull her down closer. Her lips wrapped around her clit as Thomas found his pace.
Thomas kept Amanda’s gaze as he fucked Janeen, the sounds of their skin hitting filling the room along with Amanda’s moans. His thumb found her clit and pressed, rubbing it in circles to add to her pleasure. Janeen’s body shook each time he thrusted into her, but she never let up her tongue on Amanda’s pussy.
Amanda felt Janeen’s tongue press against her entrance, and she pulled her down so the tip entered her just a bit Amanda found herself lightly bouncing her hips, letting Janeen fuck her with her tongue.
Thomas watched the whole thing, gauged Amanda’s reactions, heard her moans, watched her each up and grab her own breast as the pleasure began to overtake her. He fucked Janeen harder, lifting her hips to give him a deeper angle, and his cock slid so perfectly into her that all three of them moaned with shared pleasure.
He felt Janeen reach her orgasm quickly, stroking her clit with an intensity that one of her knees almost buckled next to him. As she let out a jagged cry, he felt his cock suddenly grow wetter, and realized Janeen has gushed all over him. And oh Christ, it felt good.
He didn’t stop his thrusts. “Janeen,” he said, his cock slipping so easily into her with her cum. “I’m gonna come inside you.”
She took enough of a break from Amanda to moan a response of “Do it,” and so not to disappoint her, her fucked her with a fury until for only a moment before he came, growling as he filled her pussy. It made her so fucking wet, and it filled him with an ache as he pulled out, needing to catch his breath after such a powerful climax.
Just then, Amanda cried out, her back arching and almost falling back onto the pillows behind her as another orgasm consumed her, Janeen’s tongue on her becoming nearly too much. She leaned back on her hands, needing the stimulation to stop for only a moment and control her breathing.
The three of them took each other in, all still overcome with the intensity of the pleasure they shared and the want they had for each other. Amanda fell onto her back, needing to lie down on the bed, and Thomas sat back on his knees.
After a minute, Janeen sat up, wanting to lean against the pillows. She couldn’t help it; she giggled, looking between the two of them.
“Well,” she said, with the same confident voice she had had when she first entered the penthouse. “Anyone want to join me for a shower?”
Thomas sat on the terrace and smoked his cigarette as the sun lit up the London morning. His stomach growled, and he thought about ordering room service.
It had been two in the morning before they had finally all gone to bed, eventually deciding no more fun could be had while they were all so tired. He’d slept between the two women, and when he’d woken up about an hour ago, he’d had to carefully slip out of the bed without disturbing them.
God the cigarette felt good.
The terrace door opened, and he turned around in his seat to see Amanda come outside, wearing only a sheer robe she had bought a while back for trips like this. Without a word, she joined him on his lap, and he flicked the nearly finished cigarette away so he could hold her.
“Good morning, my sweet girl,” he said, noticing a few marks on her neck where he and Janeen had bitten her. “How are you feeling?”
Amanda bit her lip but couldn’t stop her smile from growing. “Really, really good, baby.”
“Good. That makes me incredibly happy, darling.” He brushed a hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Did you like it? Being with another woman again?”
She nodded. “I did. I really did, Thomas. I think in school, i told myself I shouldn’t like it. But with you…” she looked at him in utter devotion. “Thank you, for letting me explore. And doing it with me.”
“Of course, Amanda.” He found her wide brown eyes. “I’m really proud that you trusted me enough to tell me you wanted this, that you wanted me included.” He was completely sincere; he wanted her happy more than anything. “And just know, should you ever want to explore, without me there, you know I’d be more than happy if you did. And I’d even help you set it up if you needed me to.”
He could swear Amanda’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “You’re too good to me, Thomas. I love you so much it hurts.”
Thomas cupped her chin, running his thumb along her bottom lip. “I’d do anything for you, you know. Don’t forget that.”
“Never.” She sniffed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And, speaking of that…” she cleared her throat. “Janeen mentioned she was.. staying the weekend. Maybe, maybe we could suggest that she stay here. In our room. Before we all leave.”
He should’ve guessed she’d ask for such a thing. “Oh sweet girl. How long have you been wanting to ask?”
She blushed scarlet. “Since we first kissed last night.”
“Minx,” he teased. “Of course we can do that, baby. So long as she wants to.”
Amanda couldn’t contain her smile, and she kissed him, digging her fingers into his hair. He smiled against her lips, and ran his hands up her back. He thought about untying the flimsy robe and quickly taking her on the outdoor table, but they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.
They broke apart and found Janeen standing by the terrace door, navy dress back on and shoes in her hand. She smiled nervously.
“I, uh, I can take off now. But I didn’t want to leave without thanking you.” Her free hand fiddled with the silver necklace she still wore. “And telling you two what a bloody fantastic night I had.” Her smile turned sad. “But I won’t overstay my welcome.”
Amanda shot out of Thomas’s lap, stepping up to her. “No, Janeen.” She reached out, wanting to grab her hand, and hesitantly Janeen gave it. “We were actually, um, wondering if you wanted to stay. For the weekend. Here.”
Her black eyes grew wide, and she coughed out a nervous laugh. “No, really. You don’t have to say, I’m okay with going, I promise.”
“We want you to stay, Janeen,” Amanda said, looking to Thomas for reassurance.
He sighed. “We do, darling. But only if you’d like to, we won’t force you. I can call the desk and have them bring your things up, order us all some breakfast. Or you can go.” He raised his brows. “Just the same, either way, we both had a fantastic night as well.”
She still looked unsure, and Amanda grasped her hand with both of hers. “Please, Janeen. Stay.”
Janeen was quiet for a moment, searching both of their faces for insincerity. Finding none, she scoffed, shrugging her shoulders with a smile. “O-okay. Okay, I’ll stay.”
Amanda nearly bounced up and down at the news, but instead kissed her quickly, and turned to Thomas was a grin of pure success.
She was so beautiful. Both of them were, and he smiled at the turn of events. Whatever made her happy, made him ten times happier. And this was perhaps the happiest he had been in years. He didn’t want it to end, of that he was sure.
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three / apple martini
UNI AU co-written with @ineffably-styles
a story of late nights, unorthodox household plants, and a trip to Vegas that changes everything
Harry groaned. “Please don’t start a war with him,” he begged. “The last time someone started a war with Louis we all ended up spending the night at the police station. I still haven’t heard the end of that from my dad. He banned me from seeing Louis for two weeks afterwards. I was twenty. My dad grounded me when I was twenty because of Louis,” he frowned. “Maybe he had the right idea banning me from seeing him.”
chapter two / story page
Savannah was clever. That was a simple fact and almost everyone knew it. She knew how work a situation so that it benefited her and she knew how to manipulate people into doing whatever she wanted - which was partially why she’d gone into Psychology. She’d figured she might as well make a career out of it since she was so good at it.
Or she had been - until she’d met Reyna and Alexa. Of the seven billion people in the world, Savannah had managed to befriend possibly the only two who seemed to see right through her. Which was why she couldn’t seem to get them to stop bloody asking if she was alright - which she was - but that apparently hadn’t been the answer they were looking for so they began to pester her about Harry Styles instead. Which, again would have been fine and perfectly avoidable if not for Louis.
“Look, I’ll answer whatever questions you guys have later,” she eventually gave in. “But I have class in less than an hour and I’d really appreciate not being late on my first day back at uni.”
“I think that’s something we’d all like,” Reyna sniffed, staring disinterestedly down at her nails. “And it could have all been very well avoided if you’d just answered a few very simple questions when I - we - asked them,” she corrected herself.
“Fine,” she caved. “I’ll answer whatever questions you have as long as Lex starts driving and you promise that the conversation ends as soon as we get to uni. Permanently. That means no more questions about Harry and no more jokes and prodding and loosely hidden innuendoes,” she looked pointedly over at Reyna.
“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Always knew you were a prude anyway,” Reyna shrugged, earning herself a swift punch in return when she leaned between the seats. “Ow,” she glared.
“I’m not a prude!” Savannah argued, throwing a look over at Reyna who was sat in the cramped backseat with all of their bags and textbooks. “I just don’t like my personal life to be out there in the open like you do.”
“What personal life?” she snorted.
“Reyna!” Alexa exclaimed, shooting her a shocked look. “You can’t just say things like that after what she’s been through.”
Reyna rolled her eyes and glanced at Savannah who was staring back at her with a slightly closed off expression. “I just meant you end up sharing everything with us eventually, is all,” she said softly, glaring once again when Sav’s expression turned cheeky. “You just played me!” she pointed, narrowing her eyes.
“Not fun, is it?” Sav grinned, turning back around to stare out of the front of the car.
“Whatever,” Reyna grumbled, crossing her arms. “Did you have fun?” she asked.
“What?” Savannah shot her a confused look.
“With Harry,” she clarified. “Did you have fun? That’s my question.”
“Oh,” Sav frowned a little. “I mean, I don’t remember much,” she admitted, “but yeah. Yeah, it was fun.”
“Ok then,” Reyna leaned back. “That’s pretty much all I want to know since you’re not willing to really share the gory details.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “You gonna see him again?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Probably,” Savannah scoffed. “Not like that,” she quickly rushed when she noticed Reyna’s eyebrows start to rise. “I just mean he’s friends with Louis so it’s pretty much impossible for me not to see him again, innit? No matter how much I hope not to,” she muttered under her breath.
“Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad. He seems nice,” Alexa tried to comfort her.
“Yeah, I’m sure he is. But it’s not him I’m worried about.”
“Louis?” Reyna guessed sympathetically.
Savannah didn’t answer. She loved Louis like a brother – she couldn’t exactly escape him because he and Reyna were apparently attached at the hip – but he had a tendency to not think about what he said before blurting it out and having him around wasn’t exactly comforting when it came to delicate situations like the one she currently had with Harry.
“Look, I’ll chat to him,” Reyna reassured her friend with a pat on the shoulder. “Tell him I’ll shave his eyebrows off if he says something stupid.”
Alexa snorted, “I don’t think that’ll work, he’ll probably think that it’s hilarious.”
“Sadly you might be right,” Reyna sighed from the backseat. “Louis has always been uncontrollable.”
“Speak of the devil…” Savannah trailed off, pointing to a figure walking towards their stationary car.
“Hey girls,” he leaned his head in through the rear window, a smug smile playing on his lips. “What do we have here?”
“Louis this light is going to change in approximately 2.5 seconds, I’d suggest you move if you don’t want your head chopped off,” Alexa warned, her head twisting back to glare at him.
“Guess I’ll have to join you, then,” he said, pulling the door open and shoving Reyna into the pile of bags against the door. “How’ve you all been?”
“I was fine until you almost killed me with the bags,” Reyna grumbled, frowning. Louis smirked and flicked her nose with his finger.
“Now, suffocation via textbooks is not the way you want to go, I can assure you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Thanks so much for the tip,” she quipped in reply, rolling her eyes. “Like I had much of a choice with your aggressive actions.”
“So, Sav,” Louis started, ignoring Reyna and leaning in between the seats as Alexa looked for a place to park. “Have you talked to our dear Mr. Styles since we helped you escape the fiery dungeons of the Red Keep?”
Savannah blinked, “Come again?”
Louis sighed, “Sometimes your lack of culture astounds me. Game of Thrones reference,” he clarified.
She rolled her eyes, sighing before pointing out an open space to Alexa, “If I wanted incest and rape, I’d read a history book. Also, I haven’t.”
“Looks like that’s going to change,” he grinned, pointing out a tall brunette guy leaning against the brick wall of the lecture hall Savannah had her first class in.
“You set this up!” she said accusatorily, hooking her bag over her shoulder and climbing out of the car. Everyone else followed suit, moving towards the building as Alexa scrambled to lock her car.
Louis grinned, not even moving to deny it. “I may have been going through Reyna’s phone one day and saw that you emailed each other your class schedules,” he stated haughtily. “A bit of shuffling and hacking into Harry’s student account means that you two now have most of your classes in the same buildings.”
“Louis, what the hell?” Reyna smacked him on the arm.
“You’re an absolute freak, Tomlinson,” Savannah scoffed. “That’s such a violation of privacy. Change his back now!”
“Well, I can’t now,” he said, rubbing his arm carefully. “It’s too late and most of the other classes are already full. Fool didn’t even know what had happened. Besides, it’s only the lectures – in what world would the Psych classes be in the Law building?”
“That doesn’t make this any better. You’re intentionally making my life hell, and you’re going to pay for it,” she warned, glaring at him before grabbing Alexa and pulling her along with her. Not wanting to be rude, Savannah smiled and waved at Harry before pushing her way through the doors.
“You’re dead,” Reyna warned Louis before turning to follow her friends into the building. She paused after a couple of steps, turned back and punched him on the arm again.
“Ow,” he complained, glaring at her as Harry walked over with a confused look.
“Everything alright?” he asked carefully.
“Just peachy,” Reyna replied a little too brightly.
“Riiiight,” Harry dragged out the word, his already slow drawl exaggerating his disbelief. “Is there anything I can do to help…this?” he waved his hands to gesture at the two of them.
“Yeah,” Reyna nodded, hitching her bag higher up on her shoulder as she prepared to leave for her own lessons. “Start planning his funeral,” she pointed to Louis without glancing at him before stomping off.
“Looks like you’re in for it, mate,” Harry commented amusedly.
“Shove off,” Louis glared, his eyes following Reyna as she disappeared after her friends.
-
“Hey.”
“Bloody hell,” Savannah jumped, twisting around to face the voice. “Make some noise next time will you? Almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry,” Harry grinned, pulling out the seat beside her and slouching into it. “And sorry about Louis too, by the way,” he gestured to the building he’d just walked out of, which was incidentally the same one Savannah had vacated only moments before.
“Yeah,” she shrugged, simultaneously rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty used to his meddling by now so I should’ve expected it when he caught on that we, uh, knew one another.”
“If it helps, your friend with the scary eyes gave it to him pretty good earlier. If I wasn’t so miffed at him myself, I’d probably be a little worried. But,” he leaned forward to rest his arms on the table before turning his body towards Savannah, “I’m actually looking forward to seeing him squirm a little.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” she scoffed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Louis scared of anyone.”
“Dunno, he seemed pretty worried after Reyna had walked away. Kept mumbling about how he’s always sticking his foot in his mouth.”
Savannah quirked an eyebrow. “So the ‘friend with the scary eyes’ is Reyna now?”
“He never shuts up about her, I probably knew her name before I even knew yours,” he shrugs. “What?” he asked nervously, noticing the way her eyes seemed to take up a slightly devious glint.
“Nothing,” she grinned. “That’s just an interesting development.”
“Interesting?” Harry scoffed. “Try annoying. Every time we go somewhere it’s ‘oh, Rey told me about this place’ or ‘Rey would like this’ or ‘Reyna this and Reyna that’. I know more about her than I’d necessarily like,” he grumbled.
Savannah laughed at him. “Yeah, this is definitely something I can use against him.”
Harry groaned. “Please don’t start a war with him,” he begged. “The last time someone started a war with Louis we all ended up spending the night at the police station. I still haven’t heard the end of that from my dad. He banned me from seeing Louis for two weeks afterwards. I was twenty. My dad grounded me when I was twenty because of Louis,” he frowned. “Maybe he had the right idea banning me from seeing him.”
“You’re joking,” she bit her lip to keep from laughing, but the moment Harry nodded with a miserable expression on his face, Savannah couldn’t help the laugh that burst through her lips. “That’s bloody brilliant. Wait till the girls hear about this.”
“Oh, please, no. Don’t,” he asked weakly, knowing it was probably no use.
“Think it’s only fair considering how much you probably know about us from Louis and his ridiculously loud mouth.”
Harry grinned cheekily. “He did tell me about that time you were all invited to his place and-”
Savannah cut him off. “Don’t even finish that sentence, please,” she grimaced at the memory. “Even though no one will admit it, I’m pretty sure that’s the reason Louis’ family comes to visit him now instead of him heading down.”
“Can you blame them?” Harry chirped, far too amused for his own good.
“Probably not. Come on,” she changed the subject, shoving all her things into her bag. “We’ve got another class in about fifteen minutes.”
“How do you know that?” he shot her a confused look.
“Louis apparently doesn’t understand the term ‘quit meddling’ and forwarded me your timetable,” she sighed, standing up and hooking her bag over her shoulder. “I need to get a backpack,” she frowned as the weight on her shoulder caused her body to tilt to the right.
“So you memorised it?” Harry raised his eyebrows as he fell into step beside her.
“Can’t help it,” she shrugged. “I have a knack for remembering things that I’d much rather forget,” she side eyed him pointedly.
“Hey!” he protested indignantly. “If anything, it should be Louis you’re trying to forget. He’s the twat in this whole ordeal. We’re just the victims.”
Savannah merely shrugged. “If you say so. Do you have a ride after class?”
“Why, are you offering?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“I was going to, until that comment,” she glared, making him laugh.
“Thanks, but I’m driving,” he smiled.
“See when you do that, you seem almost normal,” Savannah shook her head.
“Do what?”
“Smile,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I’m always smiling,” he sounded affronted.
“No,” Sav shook her head. “You’re always smirking. It’s different and doesn’t count.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ve got an entire term of this to look forward to, don’t I?” he sighed.
“Pretty much, yeah,” she grinned, stopping in front of her lecture room. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”
“See you, Sav,” he waved walking backwards for a few seconds until she disappeared into the room.
-
By the time 4:30pm came around, Savannah was ready to go home and collapse into her bed. Her first day had been filled with gruelling lectures, and a compulsory introductory tutorial class that she had been to every single semester for the past two and a half years. Her head was filled with so much content that it felt like it was bursting at the seams - and she just knew that the next few months were going to be crazy.
The only problem was that Alexa was in a lecture and wouldn’t be out until 6pm, and considering she held the only key to the apartment, Savannah had no other option than to sit by herself in the university’s dining hall for the next hour or so.
She found an empty seat in the darkest corner of the hall and plopped herself down, pulling out her laptop and opting to get a head start on all of her notes while she was still ahead - a strange concept for her. She had just finished up when she looked up just in time to see a hunched figure sit themselves down next to her.
“Zayn,” she said, trying to hide her shock. He smelt like a mix of cigarettes and spray paint, which meant that classes had finished for him a while ago.
“Hey,” he greeted her, looking exhausted and slightly sheepish when he noticed her staring at the amount of colour he still had on his hands. “What’s up, Sav?”
“Doing some therapeutic art?” she observed. She had met Zayn a few months ago, when Reyna had first started placement at the hospital and he’d needed a lift home with the girls.
Zayn looked sheepish for a second before nodding. “Yeah, and I got it all over my lab coat too. Spent the past hour trying to bleach all of the colours out.”
“Good thing it’s white then,” she laughed, sliding half her muffin over to him. He thanked her silently before pulling off a chunk and popping it into his mouth.
“Not too sure my demonstrators will enjoy the smell though,” he noted, chuckling lightly.
“Oh please, you guys work around bacteria all day. Reyna’s apartment basically smells like those weird agar plate things that you guys use. Bleach is the least of your worries,” Savannah laughed, finishing off her sentence and closing the file.
“How are your classes so far?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Pretty intense,” she replied, “But nothing against Medicine, I’d say,” she smiled. “Reyna brought three textbooks into one of her classes today. I don’t know how you guys do it.”
Zayn smiled, “That sounds like something that she’d do… how is she, by the way? And Alexa too?”
“They’re good!” Savannah replied truthfully. “I can slowly feel Alexa’s stress levels rising, though, so ask me that question again in a few weeks’ time,” she laughed.
“Ditto,” he agreed. “Speaking of stress levels, I’m throwing a party at mine this weekend. Just something casual to celebrate the start of the new term. I was going to text Rey about it later, but since I’ve got you here might as well tell you about it Bring Alexa and Reyna and all that. It’d be cool to have you guys there,” he plopped the rest of the muffin into his mouth. “Rey and I can compare timetables, see if we have any labs together. It’d be good to partner up with a familiar face,” he said more to himself.
“That sounds great,” she said excitedly. “The girls would love to come – don’t think we have any plans.”
“Excellent,” he said, moving to stand up. “I gotta go. Text me if you need anything.”
“Lex should be finishing soon,” Savannah frowned, checking the time. “Did you want to wait to say hi?”
Zayn rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I would, but I have a meeting at six. Tell her I said hey though!”
And with that, he was gone. Savannah’s plans of getting Zayn and Alexa together were difficult, but realistic, and she was going to make damned sure that it would happen before they graduated. She had already recruited the help of Reyna - though she was pretty useless in all aspects of romance - but she was a key factor in getting to Zayn.
-
“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” Alexa groaned, resting against the steering wheel as Savannah sat in the passenger seat with her laptop open, the glow being the only source of light within the car.
Savannah shrugged, “This is all your fault. You know how persuasive Reyna can be. It’s best to just walk away whenever you see her sporting puppy dog eyes.”
“This is true,” Lex sighed, closing her eyes briefly before leaning back to watch the doors to the emergency ward closely. “I can’t believe we’ll be doing this three times a week for the next ten or so weeks. At the rate we’re going, I’m going to buy her a car before the term’s up.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t complain about that,” Sav laughed, tapping away on her keyboard as she summarised the last of the day’s lecture. “How was class today, by the way? Learn anything new?”
Alexa shot her friend a look before rolling her eyes, “Sav I study art. Everyday in class learning from those professors is another day for me to feel inadequate about my work. But no, not really. We just partnered up for one of our projects and that was basically it.”
“Sounds… boring as hell,” Savannah made a face. “Who’s your partner?”
“Some dude named Jeremy. Bit of a tosser, really,” Alexa replied, drumming on the steering wheel impatiently.
“Who’s a tosser?” a voice piped up through the window on the left side of the car. Both Savannah and Alexa jolted in shock at the sight of Reyna’s dishevelled form in her pale blue scrubs.
“Is it just me or is everyone trying to give me a heart attack today?” Sav muttered, thinking back to earlier in the day with Harry.
“Ooh, you think? Perfect timing to have a heart attack, by the way. You’re literally three metres away from the emergency department,” Rey replied, sliding into the backseat and promptly closing her eyes and leaning into the leather. “Now tell me who’s a tosser.”
“Alexa’s new project partner, apparently,” Sav replied, saving her file and closing her laptop.
“Is he cute?”
“Why is that always your first response to everything?” Alexa said exasperatedly, starting the car and pulling out of the carpark. “Also, I hate to say this but I may have to go back on my word about this whole picking you up after work business.”
“Hey! We had a deal - you wouldn’t leave your struggling friend to catch a bus by herself a night, right?” Reyna replied.
“Told you she’s a good persuader,” Savannah piped up unnecessarily.
There was a beat of silence as Alexa seriously considered her options. “Ok, fair point. But why can’t you make Louis get you instead?”
“Oh please, with the way Louis drives, I’d rather catch the bus. I’ll have a lesser chance of dying that way.”
“This is true,” Savannah commented once again.
“Anyway, stop avoiding the question - who is Jeremy and is he cute?” Reyna asked, changing the subject back to the original topic.
“Like we said, Jeremy is my new project partner,” Alexa started, turning right down her street. “And because I’m not you, I haven’t completely noticed his level of cuteness.”
“Yeah, and that’s because you’re completely hung up on somebody else,” Reyna teased. “He says hi, by the way.”
“What?” Alexa glanced at her through the mirror sharply.
“Yeah, we’re on rotation together. He’s taking the bus home,” she shrugged.
“What?” Alexa repeated, while Savannah reached back and tried to whack her on the knee.
“Ow, I’m kidding!” Reyna whelped, curling away from her friend’s reach. “Your man’s coming to pick him up in ten,” she nodded to Sav.
“My man?”
“Yeah, the one we met a couple of weeks back. Harry,” she grinned devilishly.
“You’re a twat,” Savannah rolled her eyes, turning to face the front of the car once again.
“A tired twat,” Reyna groaned. “I have no idea how I’m going to make it to Zayn’s place this weekend.”
“You have to come,” Savannah glared. “I already told him we would all be there.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Reyna waved her off. “I promised him I’d show up too, so I can’t exactly get out of it now. Maybe I should just sleep for all of tomorrow. That should keep me awake for the whole weekend.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely healthy,” Alexa stated, pulling into her usual parking spot and turning off the engine.
“Nothing’s entirely healthy when you’re studying what I study, Lex,” Reyna reminded them as they headed towards the elevators that would take them up to Alexa’s apartment.
“The irony,” Savannah noted, laughing lightly. “You guys are out here saving lives while barely surviving, yourself.”
“Whatever makes me six figures a year, Sav,” Reyna joked, snickering slightly while Alexa shot her a bemused look.
“Remind me not to die anywhere near her – wouldn’t want to contribute to her salary in any way,” she commented, unlocking her front door and letting the girls in. Savannah dumped her bag by the lounge and fell backwards onto the couch.
Reyna rolled her eyes, following suit and collapsing next to Savannah. “Do you guys have any leftover food?”
“Yes, please eat it all before it goes bad,” Alexa begged, opening the fridge and pulling out the various containers. “I can’t believe this food’s lasted us a week. This is borderline ridiculous.”
“It’s called planning in advance, Lexie,” Reyna teased. “Now are you going to hand me a plate or not?”
-
“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” Savannah rolled her eyes, spooning some pasta into her mouth while she waited for her uni emails to load. “The sauce goes in the fridge.”
“That’s disgusting, why would you want cold sauce on your hot food?” Harry asked seriously, a tomato sauce-drowned fry hanging inches from his mouth, a look of utter astonishment on his face as he looked at Savannah.
“Sometimes food needs a bit of variance,” she shrugged, noting the time changes for one of her upcoming lectures before shutting the screen. “Why would you want room temperature sauce on your hot food? That’s even worse.”
Harry popped the chip into his mouth and chewed carefully while he thought about his next point. “You’re wrong,” he stated simply, unable to think up an argument that Savannah wouldn’t be able to counter. “Sauce goes in the pantry, end of story.”
“I will fight you on this until the end of time,” she said, popping her laptop back into her bag and turning back to her pasta.
“You’re the one who brought it up!” he said defensively. Their spat was now attracting the attention of the people also seated in the same café, who cast them curious looks intermittently.
“Whatever,” Savannah waved the issue away, casually changing topics. “How’s your week at uni been? Done anything interesting?”
“Please, I’m already drowning in work. It’s already going to be a horrible term,” he replied sullenly.
Savannah could relate – one week of classes and she was already feeling the pressure from their teachers. She and Harry had spent most of their breaks between lectures together – largely thanks to Louis – and the time they were together, they were either complaining about their current workload or working on summarising their introductory lectures – which were two hours or more each.
“At least we have Zayn’s party to look forward to,” Savannah shrugged, forking a piece of pasta and popping it into her mouth. “It’s good to finally not think about the impending doom of a semester.”
“Nice imagery, Sav,” Harry snorted, finishing off the last of his fries and pushing the dish aside. “Although, hate to break it to you, but I don’t think I’ll be coming.”
“What? Why not?” she asked, perplexed. It had come up every time they had time to chat that week and this was the first time she’d heard of this.
“Ah, my dad emailed me this morning telling me that I have dinner at their house on Saturday night. So it’s a no from me,” he said apologetically.
“You can’t get out of it at all?” she asked sadly – her plans to prank Harry had been foiled by this unexpected complication.
“Nope,” he replied, lips popping on the ‘p’. “What father wants, I must deliver.”
Savannah had been brought up by a mother who’d pretty much let her run free – and so seeing this non-negotiation father-son relationship was something new to her. Reyna and Alexa’s parents were also strict, but she knew that they could be talked out of family dinners. Harry’s not so much, it seemed, which was perplexing to Savannah. She thanked the universe that her mum allowed her to do as much as she did.
“Well that’s a shame,” she poked at the few pieces of pasta left in front of her.
“Why, you gonna miss me?” Harry teased jokingly.
“The night’s gonna be a total dud now without you there,” Sav monotoned back at him, making Harry laugh.
“No need to be like that, I’m sure you’ll find other opportunities to play tricks on me,” he tapped his nose knowingly.
“Who told you that?” Savannah narrowed her eyes at him, pushing the pasta aside after deciding she didn’t have anymore room left for it.
Harry just shrugged.
“I haven’t even told anyone about that,” she pushed. “So how’d you find out?”
“You forget that we’re pretty much together for several hours a day, five days a week,” he grinned. “And you tend to leave your notebook open when you leave for the bathroom. I might have caught a glimpse of a page dedicated to me.”
“Bummer,” she muttered.
“Bummer?” Harry quirked a brow. “That’s a new one.”
“Yeah, I don’t really know where it came from. Probably one of the girls,” she shrugged.
“You guys are pretty close, yeah?” he quizzed her.
“I’ve only known them for a couple of years but they’re pretty much my best friends; them, and Louis too - on the odd occasion he’s not being annoying. Rey and Louis have known each other for ages though so they’re probably the closest. What about you guys?”
“I met Lou cause we had a class together, and that was pretty much it,” he shrugged. “We got partnered up for a project in one of the business electives my dad insisted I take and then once the project was over, he just kept popping up everywhere I went.”
“He’s a bit on the clingy side, isn’t he?” Sav mused, unable to hide the fondness in her voice.
“You’re telling me,” Harry snorted. “You know, once I woke up to find him passed out in my kitchen. I still have no idea how he got in. And all he said when I woke him up was that I need to get better locks, before helping himself to my food.”
Savannah burst out laughing at the completely outraged look on Harry’s face. “It’s not funny,” he mumbled, even as his own lips twitched.
“It’s a little bit funny,” she grinned at him toothily. “Louis learnt how to pick locks when he was sixteen so he could sneak into his parent’s liquor cabinet when they went away on business trips. According to him and Rey, he used to throw some of the best parties.”
“Until he got caught,” Harry supplied for her. “He likes telling that story, especially when he’s drunk.”
“Yeah,” she grinned. “Usually when we go out, we all take bets on how long it’ll take for him to whip it out.”
“That’s what she-”
“Don’t,” Sav warned him. “You know, I’m starting to see why you and Louis are friends. You’re both childish, you just try to hide.”
“I do not.”
“Whatever you say,” she sing-songed. “Are you absolutely sure you can’t skip your dinner or whatever?” she asked after a second.
“Believe me, no one wants me to skip the dinner more than I do,” he admitted miserably. “But I don’t have any choice,” he sighed. “Dad’s meeting with some super important people from different law firms and I have to be there to smile and pretty much suck up to them all. It’s apparently really important that I start networking from now if I want to have a guaranteed job after I graduate,” he rolled his eyes.
“But, doesn’t your dad run his own firm?” she frowned.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “But he doesn’t want me to get complacent and if I get offered a job he wants me to actually consider it seriously - before obviously turning it down,” he shook his head. “And since I’m most likely going to inherit his firm once he retires, he wants me to make my own connections.”
“That sounds shitty,” Sav commented.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he moaned. “An entire night dressed in a stuffy suit with men who think they’re the centre of the universe - I’d much rather listen to a drunk Louis tell the same story over and over again.”
“Don’t worry,” Savannah grinned deviously. “We’ll make sure to send you some snaps from the party so you can see exactly what you’re missing out on.”
“Oh gee, now I really can’t wait,” Harry monotoned.
“Cheer up, Harry, I’m sure there’ll be other parties,” she pat him on the back.
“You’re really not helping, you know that right?” he turned to face her.
“I know,” she said, the smile on her lips growing the more Harry glared at her.
“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Harry said, gesturing to the emptying lecture theatre behind them. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see ya,” Savannah mock saluted him, where Harry responded with an eye roll and a wave.
AN: hey guys! we’re back with another update (it’s been consistent so far, go us). please let us know what you think of the chapter and the story so far. we value your feedback so much! we’ll be back in two weeks with another one :)
#wus#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#1d fanfic#one direction fanfiction#1dff#harry styles fanfiction#these tags are such a chore#sorry guys#imagine harry styles#fic: wus#wus2
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