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labyrinth-runner · 5 years ago

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All You Need Is Love

Chapter 10 of The Greatest Thing

Christian x OC

Moulin Rouge Fanfic

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As the days drew on, Estelle spent more and more time with Poppy, learning the ways of the courtesan. At first, Poppy was hesitant to teach her any more than just suggestive speaking, but Estelle was her friend and she didn't want her to lose the man she loved to someone because they had more experience with certain things than she did. Watching Estelle's confidence grow as they went on was perhaps what Poppy was most proud of, not that Estelle had ever been timid, but that she finally understood her full worth on her own and knew how to carry herself in a way that showed that. Their goodbye the night before Estelle left for Paris had been tearful, but Estelle had promised to write and tell her all about the Moulin Rouge and how Poppy was so much better than any of the women there. The next morning, however, saying goodbye to Mary had proved to be a bit harder than Estelle had anticipated.

"I can't believe you're leaving to travel for months," Mary had pouted as she sat on Estelle's bed while she finished some last-minute packing.

"You know precisely where I'm going and why I'm going there," Estelle replied.

"Yes, but, what are you going to do once you find him? What if he's with someone else? Oh, Elle, I don't want your heart to get broken and for you not to have your sister there to pick up the pieces," Mary sighed.

"I'll be fine. I may not have the best sister in the world with me, but I'll have Annalise," Estelle chuckled.

"What will you do if you stay in Paris?" Mary asked softly. "With him?"

"Annalise and I already have a plan worked out should I decide to stay," she replied.

"You'll have to let me know. I know father cannot know, but I wish to know should you stay there," Mary pleaded.

"Alright. If I stay... I'll write something cryptic in your letter. Something that you would know, but father would not should he read it," Estelle said thoughtfully.

"What would you say?"

"Something poetic and meaningful," she murmured. "I've got it! If I stay, I'll tell you: 'The lights in the city are so bright that they light up the night, vanquishing the dark.'"

Mary chuckled. "It's certainly poetic."

Estelle had a small wistful smile on her face as she sat on the bed next to her sister, "It certainly would be true."

"I'll miss you," Mary sighed, resting her head on her older sister's shoulder.

"And I'll miss you. If it weren't for you, this house would be unbearable," she admitted, wrapping an arm around Mary's shoulder.

A knock sounded at the door and their butler looked in. "Miss, the carriage has arrived."

"Thank you," Estelle smiled, picking up the last of her luggage to head downstairs. She paused next to the butler for a moment, "Take care of them for me while I'm gone, please."

"Of course, Miss. Like my life depends on it," the butler said with an affectionate nod.

Estelle made her way down the stairs to place her final bags in the foyer for the carriage boy to load. Then, she hesitantly made her way over to the cracked door to the library. She heard the muffled voice of her father talking, and when she peaked in, she saw that it was to the painting of her mother.

"Keep her safe, Maggie," he murmured.

Estelle had a sad smile on her face as she knocked on the door. Her father immediately straightened.

"Come in," he stated.

Estelle walked into the room. "The carriage is here, father. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Yes, well," he said, turning to look at her where she stood a few steps in the room. His eyes scanned his daughter in her dark blue traveling dress with a black jacket and a matching hat and parasol. She looked so much like her mother did at her age that if he didn't know any better, he would think that he had traveled back in time. "You will write, won't you?"

"Of course, Father," Estelle smiled. "I would be a fool not to keep my family apprised of my adventures."

"I'm sure your sister would be disappointed if you didn't. She does live vicariously through you," he mused.

Estelle was taken aback by his demeanor. For a moment, he seemed like his old self again. He didn't look at her with sorrow, but he was looking at her with regret.

"Father, are you well?" she ventured.

"Of course, child. I am just pensive this morning," he replied.

"Father, you needn't worry about me. I'll have Annalise. We'll be perfectly fine," she reassured him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that, Estelle," he said with a small smile. It was true, he wasn't worried about her traveling. Deep down, he was worried that she'd never return home after seeing the world, having found somewhere special and then finding London lacking in comparison. "Now, your carriage has arrived, has it not? You should go. You don't want to miss your ship."

Estelle hesitated for a moment, deciding on what to do. However, sentiment won in her mind and she went and hugged her father. "Goodbye."

After a moment, he rested his hand on her back. "Do not cause any scandal."

Estelle shook her head as she pulled back. Her father gave her one last nod of acknowledgement and she left.

The trip to Paris had been fairly uneventful, with the exception of Annalise suffering from motion sickness on the boat. The rocking of the waves lulled Estelle to sleep in comparison, but only until Annalise found herself feeling sick once more and needed someone to hold her hair. Their first day in Paris had been slow. Annalise had to meet with some of her father's friends as they owned the flat that her father had rented out for them for the week. Estelle played along, truly grateful, but she was chomping at the bit to get out and into Montmartre to the address that William had given her. She wanted to know what kind of place Christian had been living in. She wanted to see the people he interacted with, but most of all, she wanted to see him. She needed to know that he was okay, although somewhere in a place inside her that she kept hidden, she selfishly wanted to know if he missed her as much as she missed him.

After their obligatory lunch date, Estelle gave Annalise a pleading look.

"Fine. I'll handle tea with Father's former mistress myself. I always did like Cecile best. She at least had the decency to give me a gift whenever she saw me," Annalise said, rolling her eyes.

"Anna, you're the best," Estelle grinned.

"I know," Annalise winked. "Now, get out of here."

Estelle did just that, making her way out into the street. She found a carriage, giving them the address and soon enough she found herself outside of a slightly shabby building.

"He's living here?" she murmured to herself. Hastily, she made her way into the building, going up to the apartment indicated on the address. She knocked on the door multiple times, but heard no response.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but, are you looking for someone?" a short man asked as he and another, taller, man came down the stairs.

"My friend," she replied, turning to look at him. "According to the address on this letter, he lives here."

The smaller man's eyes widened as he elbowed the other man in the thigh, but the other man had fallen asleep on his feet.

"Is everything alright?"

"I do apologize, but are you Mademoiselle Devereux from London?" the short man asked.

"I am... I beg your pardon, but have we met?" Estelle asked in confusion.

"Non! My name is Toulouse. I am a friend of your friend. You're just... precisely how he described," Toulouse murmured.

"You know Christian?" she asked excitedly. "Would you know where I might find him?"

"He's at the Moulin Rouge rehearsing," Toulouse replied, "We are going there now. Would you like to accompany us?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," she smiled, but then she looked at the taller man, "Although, I do believe he is asleep."

Toulouse sighed. "That's Santiago. He does that."

Estelle nodded, following them to a magnificent building with a windmill atop it. Her eyes widened in awe.

"It is quite a sight the first time," Toulouse smiled.

"It is," she murmured.

Inside however, was not an amazing sight. As Toulouse and Santiago went forward into the rehearsal space, she stayed a few paces behind, watching them from behind a pillar. Her eyes softened as she spotted Christian laughing, but then she noticed the other woman sitting in his lap. She was beautiful, with red hair and bright red lips. Her outfit had significantly fewer layers than Estelle's. Estelle felt her heart drop. Had she been replaced? She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to leave. She pushed her way back through the double doors and into the courtyard for air. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Perhaps she should never have come. Perhaps she should have just-

"Ellie?" a voice called out.

Estelle looked up, locking eyes with him.

"Christian," she said softly.

They stood in silence gazing at each other for a moment as if neither believed that the other was truly standing before them. The world had slowed, letting them hear their heartbeats in their ears until it sped back up again and they were rushing into each other's arms to hold each other tight.

"I don't understand," Christian said, pulling back, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on holiday with Annalise," she replied. She didn't want to tell him that she had come here for him, not when he was clearly with another woman.

"How long are you here for?" he asked softly.

"A few days," she replied.

"Come, let me introduce you to everyone," Christian grinned, taking her by the hand and leading her back into the building.

"A-are you sure?" Estelle stammered.

"Of course. It'll be nice for them to put a face to the name."

Estelle blushed. A face to the name. He talked about her?

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Ms. Devereux. She's my friend from London," he grinned.

The red-haired woman's eyes alighted at this new information. "So you are the infamous Ellie."

"I wouldn't say infamous..." Estelle trailed off. She couldn't tell if the woman was kind, or if there was a hint of jealousy in her eyes, but the air between the two of them and Christian felt charged. Estelle was worried that she had disrupted something by being here.

Christian introduced everyone to Estelle and she learned the woman's name was Satine. Then, they had to get back to rehearsal.

"Christian, have you finished that scene yet?" Satine asked.

"No. I'm still working on the seduction scene," he sighed.

"Perhaps I can help you after," Satine winked.

"T-that's quite alright," Christian stammered.

Estelle looked away. "I should head back."

"Let me walk you out!" Christian replied.

The walk out of the building was silent, but once they were outside, he sighed.

"She's just a friend," he said.

"It's alright. After all, I'm just a friend, too," Estelle said with a sad smile.

Christian ached to correct her, but this wasn't the time, nor the place. "When can I see you again?"

"Annalise and I have things planned the next two days. Then, we have a fairly open day in case anything of interest came to our attention. The following day we leave," she explained.

"Then... I should like to take you out on that day. There's a lovely café that I think you'd enjoy," he smiled.

"Alright," she replied. She gave him the address of her flat and sighed. "I'm glad to see you doing well."

"And I am glad to see you," he said pointedly, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I'll see you soon."

Estelle nodded and got into her carriage to return to the flat.

When she got back, she found Annalise waiting for her with a piping hot pot of tea.

"Well?"

"He's at the Moulin Rouge, writing a play. I think... I think he might have found someone," she said with some difficulty.

"Nonsense. If she's from the Moulin than he's either paying her, or she's scamming him," Annalise said dismissively.

"You didn't see the way they were," Estelle sighed. "There's definitely more to it than that."

"Are you going to see him again?" Annalise asked.

"On our open day," she replied.

"Good. Well, we have dinner reservations. You may wish to get changed," Annalise sighed.

Estelle nodded and went about it, but her mind was still on Christian.

In fact, her mind didn't leave Christian the next few days. The more she thought about him, the more she wondered if she would actually be able to leave him again. However, then she thought of Satine and figured that he may be just fine if she did.

When the day finally arrived to see him again, she was a bundle of nerves. Questions swirled in her head about whether she had been foolish to think that they would be reunited and pick up where they left off in London or if she had been right and he did miss her. As they walked in silence with her hand on his arm, she felt as though she were suffocating in the confines of her own mind, and oh how dark a place it had become there. She didn't think that even the city of lights could illuminate her darkness.

"Darling, you've been awfully quiet," Christian murmured as they sat at the table in the café.

"I just have a lot on my mind," she replied with a small smile. "But, enough about me. How have you been?"

Christian gave her a look of concern, "Well, I've found some friends who are very supportive of my work. They're not at all like the fuddy duddies of London society that we had to interact with for the season. I've been working on something new. You saw some of the play rehearsal, actually, but I've honestly been stuck."

"Stuck?" Estelle asked, leaning forward. "That's not like you at all. Back in London you seemed to go on about anything that interested you without trouble."

"I know. I'm writing this play about a penniless sitar player who falls in love with someone well above his station, but I'm having some difficulties with it," he sighed.

"You're having a hard time writing about love?" she asked incredulously.

"I know. It's hard, though, especially when my muse has been in London," he said softly.

She blushed. "I'm sure there's some courtesans who would know more about seduction that I will ever know."

"There's a difference between just seducing a woman's body and seducing a heart. You've always been good at both, if I may be so bold," he blushed.

"Then, I shall help. After all, what kind of muse would I be if I didn't?" Estelle replied with a wink. Her fears about Satine drifted away. She felt like they were back in London again.

"I would love that."

"Well, would it be instant attraction?" she asked in amusement.

"Yes, darling, I suppose it would," he smiled. "Although he has followed her career for quite some time, but when he first lays eyes on her... oh, the world stops."

"But, she's a courtesan, and he's a penniless sitar player. I think he would have to seduce her a bit in order to have her even look at him twice," she replied with a small smirk as she took a sip of tea.

"S-seduce her how?" he asked. His tea cup trembled slightly as he put it on the saucer.

"You're the writer, you tell me," she replied, crossing her legs, a trick she had learned from Poppy. Her skirts slipped up a bit and exposed her ankles, causing him to blush harder. She knew he'd been spending a lot of time at the Moulin Rouge, and she could see the appeal, after all, he was a man. However, the fact that her childhood friend was still flustered showed that he really hadn't changed much since she last saw him in London all those months ago.

His eyes traced over Estelle's face as if trying to decipher her. She'd grown since she'd last seen him at the start of the season in London. Back then, he'd been just as much of a dreamer as he was now. However, that was one of the things she loved most about him. He was a dreamer. He didn't see life just as it was, but how it could be. Talking to him made her want to believe that anything was possible… that she could find a match that was made in love as well as good standing. When he left, it was like there was a void in the London scene, and in her heart that she could never fill. Sure she'd had marriage proposals, but they weren't from the man she'd wanted the most. In this moment, watching him study her, she realized that she wasn't content to just let him slip away again, not when talking to him made her feel so free. Part of her, though, was still upset with the way he'd left things. It was apparent in her eyes. The passion within them burned, keeping him in place with the heat of her gaze as she challenged him to acknowledge it and the hurt that he'd caused by leaving.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. "You're mad at me."

Estelle blushed and looked down. "Nonsense. Why would I be mad? I'm not your keeper."

"I should have said goodbye," he sighed. "I owed you that much. I owe you so much more. That night, my father and I had a fight and I just left. I didn't think anyone would care that the hopeless dreamer had left. I'd been there for multiple seasons at that point, and everyone's father was telling them to steer clear of me."

"I cared," she said quietly before taking another sip of tea.

"You were the only one that ever did," he said with a small smile. "Which was why I couldn't say goodbye. If I had, I would never have been able to leave."

"You hurt me," she admitted. "I worried that it was something that I'd done."

"No," he said emphatically, taking her hand in his. "Ellie, you were the one good thing about London."

"One person isn't enough of a reason to stay in a place where you are ultimately unhappy," she said with a sigh.

"Not if you love that person. Love is a many splendored thing," he smiled. "Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love."

Estelle chanced a look around the small Parisian café that he had chosen to meet in. It was more colorful than the one's they had frequented back in London, but somehow seeing him here… this felt correct. In a way, she'd always felt like he was out of place in London when compared to everyone else. The colors back then were muted and his personality shone like the sun in comparison. But here? Here she felt like he belonged. He still stood out, as only someone like him could, but he also was a fixture, a focal point in a painting. The eye was drawn to it, but it wasn't out of place. Love may lift one up where they belong, but she loved him enough to want him to be in a place where he already felt at home.

"Annalise will be looking for me soon," she replied with a sigh, gathering up her parasol and purse.

"Will I see you again?" he asked hopefully.

Estelle paused to take him in. "Would you want to? I thought you wanted to cut ties with all the… oh, what did you call them… 'fuddy duddies' of London society?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Darling, I could never call you that. You were always so much more than our peers," he replied, getting up to walk her back to the flat.

"I'd love to see you again," she smiled as they made their way through town, parasol shielding her from the sun. It felt just like old times, and she was not about to let him walk out of her life again. She chewed her lip in thought, choosing her words carefully. She felt like Christian had missed her, but she couldn't help but worry that she may be wrong. "Perhaps I could convince my companion to continue on without me on our holiday. I've found Paris to be a bit too lovely to leave."

"You'd stay?" he asked in amazement as they came to a stop outside her building. "But, how would you pay for your flat?"

She turned to him with a small smile, "I was hoping that perhaps I could stay with a friend?"

He flushed at the suggestion. If she were anywhere else, with anyone else, they'd remind her immediately that that wasn't proper. Estelle could even see it in his eyes that he was warring with himself on whether or not to say it now, but to do so would be to say he still cared about the rules he'd left behind in London.

"Are you sure you'd want to stay with a friend in Paris when your best friend is traveling on?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course. I'm sure I could help my friend with his writing," she winked.

He was speechless, something that she'd seen rarely. It made her heart ache. Surely her affections weren't one-sided. No, this was the right choice. She knew it in her heart.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said softly, taking her gloved hand in his and placing a quick kiss across her knuckles.

"Good night, Christian," she replied with a slight blush as she entered the building, leaving him on the front step. Estelle picked up her skirts and made it up the stairs to covertly watch him from the window that overlooked the street. She stifled a chuckle as she watched him stand on the steps dumbstruck for a moment before breaking out in a smile. He turned to walk down the street, jumping and clicking his heels together mid-air happily before continuing on his way.

"How'd it go?" asked a voice from the next room over.

She walked in to find Annalise in her corset and changing into her dinner attire.

"It went well, but I have to talk to you about something," Estelle sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Annalise had a small smile on her face as she pinned up her golden hair. "You want to stay."

"How did you-"

"You're my best friend. I know he's the reason you turned down everyone else, and I know he's the reason you would never be happy with anyone else," she replied, looking at Estelle in the mirror. She placed her hands in her lap as she turned to face her friend. "How am I going to cover for you?"

Estelle smiled. Annalise was a schemer. "Well, I figured I could send you the letters for you to send to my family. That way, they'll think I'm with you."

She nodded, "Alright. That's one problem taken care of. Now, how will you pay for the flat? It'll be expensive on top of anything else you might need."

Instinctively, her nose scrunched up as she prepared to break the news to her. "I'll stay with Christian."

"I cannot allow my best friend to stay in some hovel," she sighed.

"It won't be a hovel," Estelle replied, "If Christian is there, then it's home."

She chuckled and shook her head at Estelle. "The two of you are a match made in heaven, that's for sure."

"Does that mean you'll go along with it?"

"If this is what you truly want. Just… include a letter to me along with your reports to your parents so that I may keep track of you," she replied, coming over to take Estelle's hands in hers. "And, if he even dares to break your heart again… I will break him."

With a chuckle, Estelle patted her hand on top of her's. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Annalise. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"That's true," she winked, getting up to finish getting dressed. "Now, get changed. We have a standing reservation for dinner and then we're going to the opera."

With a happy sigh, Estelle pushed up off the bed and went to her room to get dressed. She was determined to make the most of her last night with her friend, but she was also excited to see what tomorrow would bring. Part of her felt like a Bohemian, turning away from everything she knew and living unchaperoned with a man. She wasn't as innocent as she once was, thanks to Poppy, but few people knew that Estelle knew about those kinds of things. Poppy had taught her many things about men, and she wondered how Christian would react to them. Then again, considering his current company, he may not even be shocked.

The rest of the night was spent with Annalise on the town. When they came back to the flat and were going to go their separate ways, Annalise stopped her.

"Stay with me tonight? Like when we were girls," she smiled.

"Just let me get changed," Estelle replied, disappearing into her room.

She emerged a bit later in her nightgown with her hair flowing around her shoulders.

The two of them laid next to each other, staring up at the canopy of the bed.

"Are you nervous?" Annalise asked, looking at Estelle out of the corner of her eyes.

She let out a sigh at her question. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

"About living with Christian?" she asked.

After a beat of thinking, Estelle answered. "It's not quite that. I trust Christian. I'm more nervous about living with just him to rely on. What if… what if our relationship doesn't grow? Then I'm stuck here."

"You wouldn't be stuck," she reassured, turning to face her friend. "You'd never be stuck. I'd rescue you if you ever needed it."

"I appreciate that," Estelle said with a small smile. "Now, we should sleep. You have a long day of traveling tomorrow."

Annalise yawned in agreement and turned the other way to sleep. However, Estelle stayed up a little bit longer, looking up at the canopy, worrying whether or not this was the right choice. However, in her heart she knew it was. After all, the life here with Christian may not be what she was used to in London, but all she needed was love, and she felt as though Christian could give that to her. With that thought, her worries were gone and sleep claimed her.

The morning was a blur of packing and saying goodbye to Annalise. It wasn't long before Christian showed up after she left.

"Good morning, darling," he beamed as he picked up her luggage and placed it on the carriage she'd rented. He offered Estelle his hand to help her into the buggy, crawling in after she'd settled herself into the seat.

"I must warn you," he started nervously.

"Christian, you're an artist. I'm not expecting the Taj Mahal. A house is only a house. What makes it a home are the people inside," she replied pointedly.

He blushed. "Right. Of course, darling."

The carriage pulled up outside his building and he picked up her things. Not wanting to watch him struggle, she helped him by carrying some of her lighter suitcases. She had told him that she wasn't expecting much, but that still didn't prepare her for the apartment with a massive hole in the ceiling. Vaguely, she remembered his friends telling her they fell into Christian's life on the walk to the Moulin the other day. When she saw those same faces popping through the hole in the ceiling now, she realized they had meant it quite literally.

"Christian! You didn't say you'd be bringing home a woman," Toulouse smiled.

"Hello, Toulouse," Christian said, blushing awkwardly. "You remember my friend, right?"

"Oh, yes. She is hard to forget."

Estelle cleared her throat as she set about unpacking her things into the room.

"Toulouse, if you don't mind, would you talk to the land lord about fixing the hole in your floor? Now that there's a lady here, I'd like to give her some privacy."

"Of course!" Toulouse replied before disappearing back up into his own apartment.

"Sorry about that," Christian said sheepishly.

"No need to apologize. Your friends are sweet," Estelle smiled. Then, she turned to spot the portrait on the wall. "Christian... is that...?"

Christian blushed. "Yes, well, I was missing you terribly and Toulouse painted that for me to cheer me up."

"It's beautiful," she murmured, reaching up to straighten it on the fireplace.

"You are," Christian replied before sitting at his desk to write on his typewriter.

Eventually, she pulled up a chair and sat next to him.

"What scene are you working on?" she asked curiously.

"The one we were discussing the other day in the café."

"Oh, the seduction scene! Well, how does he end up seducing her?"

"I…well… I'm still working that out. That's why we've been going to the Moulin Rouge so much outside of rehearsals, but it hasn't helped inspire me in any way."

Part of her had to be happy at that. She was sure that Satine would have been a great help with this, but since she wasn't, Estelle figured she could implement some of the things she'd learned from Poppy.

"Well… you've always had a way with words. Why not have him make suggestive comments?" she suggested, a small smile toying at her lips.

"Like what?" he asked, turning to her.

She bit her lip, debating on whether or not to push her luck. Gently leaning forward so that her lips were inches from his ear, she whispered, "Well, he could speak softly into her ear."

He stiffened before shivering slightly at her actions. With satisfaction, she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, "A-and, what things would he say?"

"Things like… sometimes at night I dream about what it would be like to have you underneath me as my hands slide up your chest," she murmured in his ear.

"I-is that so?" he stammered, blushing furiously.

Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his thigh. "He touches her thigh, slowly sliding it up as he tells her how much he wishes there weren't any fabric in the way."

His eyes nervously flicked to her's. This was a side to her that he'd never seen before, and quite frankly it scared him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but rather that he wasn't used to it. She was so bold and confident. Her eyes looked like they would devour him on the spot, which made a flicker of a thought flash in the back of his head. Clearly someone would have had to teach her this in order for her to replicate it. Had someone else had her before he could? Yet, he couldn't talk since he hadn't been chaste either. There had been one drunken night that- He banished the thought away as he looked down, seeing himself start to tent in his pants and reluctantly he stayed her hand.

She took his chin in between her thumb and forefinger, turning his head towards her so she could search his eyes. "What is it?"

"He's supposed to be trying to seduce her," he said quietly, "Because he knows that she's used to being the one working for affections."

"He came from far away to see her for himself," she replied softly. "When his eyes fell on hers, it was love at first sight. He vowed he'd never let her go. He wants her."

His eyes bore into hers. "She wants him, but she doesn't think she has the right to love him after everything she has done."

"Everyone has the right to love," Estelle murmured, sliding closer to him. "He wants to undo her clothes and let them fall to the floor. He knows its a sight others have seen before, but it will be his first time, and that's all that matters to him. Especially since he didn't need to pay for it."

"She showed him willingly," he replied, cupping her face. "Because he saw her soul first."

"He wants to kiss every inch of exposed flesh and worship her," she added, "Nothing is too good for her in his eyes. He wants to use his hands and lips to memorize her skin, to show her how much he cares."

They had gotten so close in their word exchange. Her eyes were wide as they gazed up into his.

"What are some of the things he says?" Christian asked innocently.

"I know you're used to things being rough, but I want this to be loving. I want to kiss every inch of you, leaving little marks where only we'll know where they are, so that when you see them, you'll know you belong to me. I want to show you the stars that hide behind your eyes," she said intently.

Christian's eyes widened, feeling his pants unbearably tight. Estelle was just talking about the play, wasn't she?

"A-anything else?" he asked breathily.

"I want to make love to you until my name falls from your lips over and over again like a nun praying the rosary. Like it's reverent to you and sacred, because you are sacred to me and I'll worship you like the celestial presence on Earth that you are," she continued.

His heart was hammering in his chest. Her words were beautiful, but somehow he knew she wasn't talking about the play. She hadn't been since she sat down. Although, she was wrong about one thing. He was the penniless sitar player, and she was the woman who was out of his depths now, and he had done this to them. He wanted her so badly, his breath hitching in his throat as she opened her mouth to speak again. He knew he couldn't take another round of whatever she was going to say and instead he kissed her. It was a desperate kiss to shut her up, but she kept trying to talk, so he kept swallowing her words with his mouth until Estelle gave up. She slid herself across to sit in his lap, unable to straddle him like she wished due to the restrictions of her skirt. Christian let out a groan as she sat on his lap, reflexively wrapping his arms around her.

Panting for air, Estelle pulled back and rested her forehead against his.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she gasped as her breaths mingled with his.

"I should never have left you," he replied.

"No, this was the right decision for you," she said pointedly.

"But, I lost this. I could have had this so much sooner," he sighed."We both could have been happy in London. I could have belonged to you and been happy."

"At the cost of the freedom to be who you truly are, Christian. That is true happiness. I could never have allowed you to give up on that. I could never ask that of you. You're a dreamer, and I love that about you. I love that you challenge me to dream of a better life, of a better world. I love that you're trying to create that world with your art," she replied frantically.

His eyes snapped up to her's, blue like the sky. "You do?"

"I do, because I believe in it. I believe in all this," she replied, gesturing to the room around her. "Freedom, beauty, truth…" she trailed off to look at him, smoothing her thumb across his cheek as she softly added, "Love."

"The greatest of these is love," he replied with a small smile.

"I love you," she replied softly.

"I love you, too, Ellie," he grinned before kissing her softly. "More than anything."

Estelle sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I have to ask, though. What is Satine to you?"

Christian looked down in shame. "In truth, she's just a friend."

Estelle chewed her lip, dreading the answer to her next question, "Have you slept with her?"

"Once. We were working on lines and we were both very drunk," he replied. "It... it didn't go well."

"How did it not go well?" she chuckled.

"Well, I kept calling her 'Ellie'," he admitted.

Estelle sat up straight, "Oh?"

"And what about you? How did you learn all of... that?" he asked.

Estelle looked down, "I may have befriended a lady of the night on Grub Street?"

Christian chuckled. "Why?"

"I thought that was the kind of woman you wanted. Especially since you ended up here," she replied like it was obvious.

"Ellie, you're the kind of woman I want. I was just too dumb in London and didn't know how to admit it when I had everything to offer, and now I have nothing to offer but the truth," he said emphatically.

"That's not true," Estelle said softly. "You have love to offer. All I need is love."

#Christian x OC #christian moulin rouge #The Greatest Thing

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xillveart · 6 years ago

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Salty Surprise

@bnha-christmas2019 | Day 21: Baking | Bakugou x Koge (OC) Featuring Natsuki | Everyone | N/A

“Uh, Natsuki, what do you think you’re doing?”

Currently struggling to get some bowls, spoons and whisks up on the kitchen island countertop, Natsuki peered up at Bakugou through her bangs, huffing in frustration. “I’m trying to get this stuff up here! Isn’t that obvious, Daddy?”

“Don’t be smart with me, Natsu.” Bakugou made his way over to his young daughter, helping her get the pile of kitchen utensils in place. “Why are you messing with all this stuff?” As he glanced around the rest of the mess she had so expertly created, he could see that everything was either instruments or ingredients to do some type of baking project. He knew that she had shown a real interest in baking recently, but at eight years old, the tiny girl shouldn’t be messing with any of this stuff unsupervised.

“I just wanted to bake some Christmas cookies!” Dressed in her tiny apron that her mother had bought her, Natsuki hopped off her stool and trotted over to the refrigerator, searching for whatever it is she needed. “You and Mama have been so busy lately that we haven’t gotten to yet, and it’s only five days until Christmas!”

Small frown crossing his lips, Bakugou felt a twinge of guilt at the disappointment she must have been feeling. Ever since she was four years old, they had made it a tradition to make cookies together as a family. But this year, it had yet to happen, since both Koge and Bakugou had been horribly busy. In fact, he hadn’t had a single day off until today, but that didn’t matter much since Koge was off on a business trip and his two sons were with their grandparents. The thought of baking cookies hadn’t even crossed his mind, but the ever vigilant little Natsuki had remembered.

Walking over, Bakugou placed his hand on the top of her head to stop her from bouncing up to try and reach the eggs, getting them down for her instead. “I’m sorry, Natsuki.” Handing the box to her, he squatted down to be closer to her height, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I know that we haven’t had time to do cookies just yet. But I have today off. How about you and I bake them, and we surprise Mom and your brothers when they all get home?”

Wide smile crossing her face, Natsuki nodded, her wild blonde hair bouncing about in its high ponytail. “Okay! But I want to do the mixing and stuff! I did so good during Halloween, and I reeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaally want to learn how to do it all by myself!”

“You got it.” Pulling her in closer, Bakugou gave her a playful kiss on the cheek, making her giggle with a snort. Standing, Bakugou took a quick glance back at the kitchen island, seeing that they were still missing the milk as well. So, he grabbed it and followed her back to the prepping area. “What type of cookies did you want to make?”

“Our special Christmas Cookies! Mama has the recipe always on the fridge, so I have it here.” Natsuki poked a petite finger onto the piece of paper, which was splotched and tattered with use over many years. “I got out all the ingredients from the pantry and the mixing thingies. Daddy, you have to help me with things I can’t reach, okay?”

Amused smile on his lips, Bakugou leaned on the countertop, propped up by his arms. “Yes Ma’am. I’ll be the reacher.”

“And the decorator assistant. I’m the mixer and decorator… uh. President.” Reaching over, she pulled all the ingredients towards her, before setting up two bowls. Bakugou kept his chuckling to himself, not wanting to embarrass her while she was doing such a great job of being so independent. As always, he was proud of her for being so confident, and he didn’t want to take this chance away from her.

“Okay Ms. Cookie President. What’s the first order of business?”

“Dry ingre- ingra, uhm--”

“Ingredients.”

“Ingredients! Sugar and flour and salt!”

“And…?”

Natsuki paused for a moment before she snatched onto the small box, pulling it to her as well. “Baking soda!”

While Natsuki worked to measure and fill the first bowl with the dry ingredients, Bakugou went to turn on the oven to preheat it, as well as clean up a bit after the mess she had already made. Though, when she poured the flour, he couldn’t resist the small smirk from crossing his lips as he felt a bit… devious.

“Ah wait, Natsuki!” He came up beside her, peering down into the bowl like there was a problem. Confused, Natsuki glanced up from his face to the bowl and back again, brow furrowed with worry.

“What, Daddy? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something…” Carefully, he reached into the bowl, picking up a decent sized pinch of flower. Bringing it up to his face, he observed it for a moment, waiting until Natsuki was in the perfect position. Then, with a puff, he blew the powder into her face, making her squeal and sputter.

“Ack, Daddy!”

Snickering, there wasn’t much Bakugou could do but catch her as she leaped off the stool onto him, her arms latching around his neck as she growled viciously. Somehow, she crawled her way up until she was sitting on his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his neck as she dug her fingers into his hair. Bakugou could only laugh, not at all perturbed by her tiny body and act of revenge. “Oh no, the little gremlin got me!”

“You’re gonna get it now, Dadd- EEK!” Before Natsuki could stick her fingers in his ears like she planned, Bakugou leaned forward, forcing her to clutch onto his head for dear life as she was turned upside down. Of course, Bakugou kept a good grip on her so she wouldn’t fall, unable to resist the wide smirk on his lips as she flailed.

“Oh, am I? It looks more like you’re the one getting beat here, Natsu-- gah, hey! Fingers out of the ears!”

Laughing victoriously, Natsuki kept her fingers in place as Bakugou stood back up, but she was forced to release him as he shook his head and pulled her back around to his front. “That’s what you get for blowing powder in my face!”

Pressing his lips against her cheek, he blew a huge raspberry against her skin, making the young girl squeak and laugh. Once he pulled away, Bakugou peeled her off him and plopped her back down onto her stool, ruffling her hair roughly. “Alright squid, let’s get back to it.”

“You’d better not do that again! Or I’ll crack an egg on your head! Then you’d be an egghead.”

The baking went on in the same fashion, with some progress made in between playful antics. Before they knew it, they had four batches of cookies cooked, and once they were cooled, they were put into a bowl to be decorated.

“Daddy, should we try one before we decorate them?” Natsuki picked up two cookies from the bowl, a star and a tree. Taking the tree from her as she handed it to him, Bakugou looked the perfectly baked cookie over a bit.

“Sure. That way if they’re gross, we’ll know we have to start over before decorating them.”

“They won’t be gross!” Natsuki chomped down onto the cookie at the same time that Bakugou did, but after only a few seconds of chewing, she squealed and shook her head in disgust. “Oh ewie! Ew, ew!” Hopping off her stool, she ran over to the trashcan and spit the cookie out.

A bit perturbed, Bakugou ate his cookie without any issues, finding that they were actually pretty delicious. “What’s wrong, Natsu?”

“It tastes so bad! Like I drank sea water!” Glaring at the star shaped cooking in her hand, she made her way back over to the stool, climbing up and glaring into the bowl of cookies. “They are gross!”

“Are you sure…?” Brow furrowing, Bakugou held out his hand, allowing her to plop the star into his waiting palm. Immediately after taking a bite, he couldn’t resist physically cringing, using every ounce of self-control to not spit it out all over the counter. “Damn that’s salty! That’s so weird, mine tastes fine.”

“Really?” Natsuki took the tree shaped cookie from him, taking a timid nibble. Once she was sure it was okay, she took a full-on bite, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What happened?!”

“I think you might have mixed up the amount of salt and sugar in one of the batches, babygirl.”

“Oh no… How will we tell the difference?! We can’t take a bite out of each one!” Pout on her lips, Natsuki leaned her elbows on the counter, resting her cheeks on her hands in defeat. “I ruined them…”

“No you didn’t, squid.” Fingering through the cookies a bit, Bakugou suddenly got an idea. It was a horribly mean idea, one that would surely make people mad at them, but he knew that it would be hilarious. And, with Natsuki’s mischievous nature, she would be all for it. “Hey Natsu, I have an idea.”

Looking up at him curiously, Natsuki pushed herself up to stand on her toes. “What is it?”

“How about we still decorate all these cookies like normal,” Bakugou spoke in a whisper, as if he were worried someone might hear them, even if they were alone in the house. “Then it will be a game of chance. Who will get the nasty cookies? We can even give some to your Uncle Seiji and Doey.”

A smirk just as malicious as his own spread across Natsuki’s lips, rubbing her hands together like she was an evil villain. “Hehehe, yes! Yes! Daddy, that’s perfect! It will be so funny!”

“We should pretend that we don’t even know about it, too. Deal.” He reached a hand out towards her, which the little girl shook with eager enthusiasm.

“Deal!”

Hours later, Koge returned home from her business trip, greeted by her husband and daughter with hugs and kisses. Once settled, she followed Natsuki into the kitchen, though it was more like she was being dragged along by the hand.

“Mama, look! I made cookies!”

“Oh, you did!” Koge smiled as she observed the bowl of decorated Christmas cookies, glancing up at Bakugou as he walked into the kitchen behind them. “What a surprise! I thought something smelled good in here.” Scooping up her daughter, Koge sat her down on the kitchen island countertop, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re so good.”

Giggling, Natsuki wiggled in her spot, looking over towards Bakugou expectantly. “Daddy helped, too! Look, look! Try that tree!” Unbeknownst to Koge, Natsuki knew for a fact that the green tree cookie was a salty one, since her and Bakugou had learned to recognize the difference in the outside texture of the cookie during decorating.

Picking up the indicated tree, Koge didn’t hesitate to take a bite, but there was no reaction like what had been expected. “Mm!” Koge smiled, paying little attention to the shocked and confused look on Natsuki’s face. “These are very good!”

“Seriously, Utsuro?” Bakugou couldn’t resist asking, feeling his stomach churn as she took another bite. “It’s… good?”

“Yeah! It’s delicious. You might have just used a tiny pinch of too much salt in them, but I think they’re great. Good job, baby.” Koge placed another kiss on Natsuki’s cheek before grabbing three more cookies, heading up to Bakugou. Holding up a cookie to his mouth, Bakugou reacted on impulse, taking a bite of the same tree cookie Koge had already been eating. The urge to gag at the salty taste was strong, but he resisted, eating it as normal as he could.

“Mm... yeah. Yum. Good.”

Smiling, Koge kissed him softly, completely oblivious. “Thank you, my love. It was very nice of you to do this. I’ll go get some boxes so we can pack some up for gifts!” As she left, Bakugou turned his shocked gaze to Natsuki.

“Daddy… She can’t taste it!”

“Damn… quick, dig out the bad ones! We can’t give them away now!”

“Our genius trick is ruined!”

Standing out in the hallway, Koge couldn’t resist the small smirk on her lips, nibbling at the salty cookie triumphantly. Of course she could tell the cookies were bad, even with her high sodium tolerance caused by her quirk. But there was no way she was going to give the naughty pair the satisfaction of tricking her.

Koge one, brats zero.

#bnha-christmas2019 #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x oc #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #oc #original character #koge #bakugou x koge #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #cutesuki-oc #natsuki

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imladris-soldier · 6 years ago

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Lashes (pt 13)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

The gang rode hard and fast back to Clemens Point. While they wanted to leave an impression, they couldn't afford another altercation with the Grays. Everyone was too fired up. There likely wasn't a clear head among them.

Star could feel the eyes of Bill and Charles on her as they rode, but the moment she had entered the orchard, she'd hardened herself. This was a part of her they had not seen, but she was not so unfamiliar with it. While it was inevitable that questions would be asked, she would force them to come to her, and even then... could she tell them?

As the gang blew back into camp, the women came running. Abigail wailed about Jack while Ms. Grimshaw demanded to know everything. Her eyes caught on Star as the younger woman hitched her horse, and she practically shrieked, “What the hell happened to her?!”

Star pushed by without a word while Charles murmured, “It's not her blood.”

The Lakota woman pressed through camp to the lake shore. When she reached the water, she knelt in it, cupping some of it into her hands to look at her reflection. Blood spattered her face and hair. It had clotted and looked like a paste. As memories flashed behind her eyes, she submerged her entire head into the lake, shaking it about. As her hair became cleaner, it whipped around her as though it possessed life. When she couldn't hold her breath a moment more, she broke the surface with a gasp.

Now her hair was stuck to her face and head, dripping water down her body – causing the blood on her clothes to run and stain. She sat in the water, breathing heavily and feeling the tendrils of purity attempt to wash clean what she had done.

Before she knew it, her heaving breaths had become sobs. Tears fell down her face, splashing into the lake around her. Nothing living dared come near her... save for one.

Charles sat in the water with her, pulling her into his arms. She leaned against him and let out the pain and the fear that had all been brought rushing back to the surface. Her skin tingled with the memory of it.

“Tell me,” Charles murmured, petting back her hair.

She sniffed, trying to regain control of her voice. This was a story she had told no one. It felt that if she spoke it into existence then it became true, but perhaps that was what was needed. Perhaps it needed to finally be true and not a nightmare that dogged her steps.

“When I was young, children would go missing from our village. It was always assumed that the white men were taking them, though no one knew why. Perhaps to be sold as slaves to people like the Braithwaites or the Grays. They were never seen again.”

Her fingers tangled in Charles' shirt, holding to him for fear of being swept away by the past. “I... I caught them in the act once. I followed them.” Her grip grew tighter. “They did not sell this boy. They... they tortured him. With knives and hot iron. All night I listened to him scream and could not bring myself to move. I was so afraid that they would do the same to me that I hid in the bushes until long after they had killed him and left.”

Charles' grip on her grew tighter – more protective. “They left him to rot on the plains. And so did I. I could not bring myself to carry him back, knowing that I had allowed his death. When I got back to the village, everyone flocked around me, asking if I had been taken or if I had seen the other boy. I... I lied. I told them that I had gotten lost. They thought nothing of it. But the look on his parents' faces has never left my mind. Nor have his screams.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven or eight.”

Charles sighed, holding her head against his chest. “Tȟaŋkší,” he softly whispered in her native tongue. “It was not your fault. You were a child.”

“I can't let it happen again, Charles. Jack is just... he's just a boy.”

“It won't. We know where he is, and we are going to save him. Star, hear me. It will not happen again.”

Though his words rang true and bolstered her confidence, Star broke into tears once more, clinging to him desperately. He simply picked her up and carried her back to his bedroll which he distanced from the camp, placing it near the farthest fire. He sat her down, and told her to dry off – that he would be back.

She sat next to the fire, arms around her knees, as she waited. The heat of the flames went to work sapping the wetness from her hair and clothes, though she had mostly gone numb to all of it. The truth was free from the prison she'd locked it in, but it had fried each of her nerves on its way out.

Charles approached from behind, but his footsteps paused and low voices that she was not meant to hear carried to her. “How is she?” Bill asked, his tone full of worry.

“She's hurting. It is probably best... if she stays with me tonight.”

“...alright. If-if that's what you think is best. Did... did she tell you why...?”

“Yes. And in time, she will tell you too, but for now... give her space.”

“Sure.” There was a pause, then, “I... I really love her.”

“I know. She will need that love soon, but right now she needs rest. And so do you.”

“Ok. Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Bill.”

With that, one pair of footsteps walked away, and the other closed the rest of the distance to Star. Charles sat beside her, offering her a bottle of whiskey which she took and drank a long swig from. Anything to help sleep come faster.

“It's going to be alright, Star,” Charles told her, rubbing her back. “You were brave to tell me what happened.”

“I've never told anyone,” she replied at a whisper.

“I know. Are you dry now?” She shrugged. “Try to sleep. I'll stay with you.”

Without any more prodding, Star scooted into the bedroll, laying on her side. Charles laid on his back beside her, his shoulder gently pressed between her shoulders. The contact was soothing. As the alcohol went to work, Star drifted off to sleep.

….

When the sun rose, Charles got up, but he pulled the blanket up around Star. She stirred slightly, recognizing the gesture, before falling back asleep. There was no knowing if Charles had slept at all, but his presence had kept the monsters at bay, so she could be nothing but thankful.

The gang left her alone, and she slept until late in the morning. When she woke for good, she sat up and worked out the kinks in her body. Her clothes were a horrific mess, still a mix of blood and lake water and dirt, so she went to go find new ones.

After she changed, she dragged a comb through her hair, tying it back in a braid. It really needed a proper washing with soap, but that could wait. Who was she trying to impress anyway?

Once she deemed herself presentable, she left her tent to find food. The stew wasn't quite ready, so she took a can of peaches from Pearson's wagon, swiped a fork, then looked around for Bill. He was sitting against the tree again, so she went over and slipped down next to him.

He looked over at her when she arrived, but they sat silently while she opened her breakfast and ate a few pieces. It was fairly obvious that he was nervous about beginning the conversation, likely due to what Charles had told him the night before, so it made all the difference when he finally spoke up. “You ok?”

She sighed, sitting the peaches on the ground between her criss-crossed legs. “No. But I'm going to be.”

He nodded before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. She leaned against him contently, already feeling some peace come back to her bones. In time she would be ready to tell Bill the story she had told Charles, but for now it was good to know he was present regardless.

The spent most of the day together, quietly talking under the tree. Star was a little clingier than usual, but Bill didn't seem to mind. More than once, someone came over to check on her, and she mostly gave a generic I'm fine, however, when Dutch approached, he didn't seem prepared to accept that as an answer.

“How are you, Miss Star?” he asked, crouching down in front of her.

“I'm... alright.”

His brow arched. “Now, we both know that ain't true.”

“What do you want me to say?”

For a moment, he let that sit, then shrugged and nodded. “Fair point.”

“Whatever comes next... you can count on me, Dutch. I wish... I wish there'd been someone like you when I was young. Someone to ride in and destroy anyone who would harm me or my friends.”

A soft smile graced Dutch's features. “Well, miss, I'm here now.” He pat her knee, then stood and left.

Bill watched him go, then turned to Star. “Seems to me like you did pretty good destroyin' your enemies as was.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, “but it would have been nice not to.”

Afternoon faded into early evening, and Star finally went to go check on Rhiannon after the stress of the night before. The mare was happily chomping on some hay, nickering quietly when Star approached.

“Hello, lovely,” Star whispered, running her nails along the horse's coat. “You need a bath as much as I do.”

She spent about twenty minutes with a brush, working Rhiannon's coat to a shine. Just as she decided she was happy with it, a voice caught her attention and the attention of everyone in camp. “Hey, Dutch! We got a problem!”

Lenny was walking into camp with his gun trained on two Pinkerton agents. Star's insides froze, and she hurried around the horses towards the middle of camp where everyone was gathering. Bill met her, pressing protectively close.

“Not a problem,” the Pinkerton in charge replied. “Visitors! A solution.” He cast his gaze around, smirking. “Good day, fine people. Mr. Van Der Linde. Mr. Matthews, I presume.” His eyes landed on John. “And who are you?”

John squared up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Rip Van Winkle.”

“Uh huh. Well, allow me to introduce myself. Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency. This is Agent Ross,” he said, gesturing to the man at his side. When Arthur stepped up, he went on, “Ah, Mr. Morgan, nice to see you again.”

Dutch, his voice brittle with annoyance cut in, “And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?”

“I don't know if you're aware, but this... this is a civilized land now. We didn't kill all them...” His eyes landed on Star. “... savages... only to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented.”

Bill stepped partially in front of Star, shielding her from the man's hostile gaze, and for a moment, she feared he might punch him. Milton's smirk grew wider.

“This thing,” he announced, returning his attentions to all, “it's done.”

Dutch rose from his place at the table. “This place ain't no such thing as civilized. It's man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites.”

“And as a consequence, that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please, and hang the rest of us? Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?”

“I'm nothin' but a seeker, Mr. Milton.”

“You ain't much of anything more than a killer, Mr. Van Der Linde. But. I came to make a deal. It's time. You come with me, and I give the rest of ya three days to run off, disappear, and go and live like human beings someplace else.”

There was a moment of silence before Dutch, amusement in his voice, asked, “You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Well. Ain't that fine.”

A couple chuckles bounced around the gang, obviously raising Milton's hackles slightly. “I don't wanna kill all these folks, Dutch. Just. You.”

Dutch nodded, holding up his hands. “In that case, it would be my honor to join you. Excuse me, friends. I have an appointment to keep with...”

He was silenced by the sounds of every available weapon cocking. Star's hand slipped to her pistol, drawing it and pulling back the hammer, though she left it resting against her hip. Beside her, Bill's rifle raised slightly.

A tense moment of silence followed before Ms. Grimshaw declared, “I think your new friends should leave now, Dutch.”

“You're making a big mistake,” Milton spat. “All of you.”

Dutch laughed. “Yeah. Dreadful. We have got something – something to live and die for. How awful for us, Mr. Milton.” He stepped close to the Pinkerton, his voice deepening into threat. “Stop following us. We'll be gone soon.”

Milton eyed him with spite. “I'm afraid I can't do that. And when I return I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die! Run away from this place, you fools! Run!”

Lenny stepped forward to show them out, grabbing Milton's arm. “Come on.”

“Get your damn hands off me, boy.” With that, he sneered at them all, spun on his heel, and marched out.

Once they were out of earshot, Arthur sighed, “What now?”

“We get outta here,” Dutch answered. “Quick. Any ideas?”

“I know a big ol' house hidden in the swamps outside Saint Denis. I'm sure they'll find us eventually, but it should buy us a few days.”

“A few days is all we need.”

“It's a spot out by Shady Belle. Lenny and I got into that... dispute with the previous occupants. Place is well hidden.”

Dutch nodded, then put a hand on John's shoulder. “You and Arthur ride out and make sure no one else has moved in. Lenny, go follow those fools outta here, make sure they leave. We'll get Jack back, and we'll get gone. The rest of you get packin'!”

The group splintered to do as they were told, but Star stayed put, replacing her gun in its holster. Bill stayed with her, eyes on the woods where the Pinkertons had disappeared. “Who you callin' savages?” he muttered angrily.

Though Star had been caught up in introspection, that one sentence caused her to chuckle softly. “Come on, Bill. Let's get the horses ready.”

They went about their work quickly and mostly quietly. Star spent a lot of that time in her own head. Would the Pinkertons have actually let them go if they'd turned in Dutch? She was not quick to trust the government, but it was an interesting question. In any case, it wasn't even an option. Milton called Dutch a messiah, and in some ways he was. Every person in the gang had a dream of freedom, and Dutch had been the one to put words and actions to that dream. A man with that much influence was certainly no ordinary man.

Besides, she had come to care a lot about their leader. Though she did not spend much of her free time with him, she had observed from afar, and his love for his gang was obvious. He had taken her in when she was alone, and he had offered her respect that many other white men would not have. As long as Dutch was loyal to his family, Star would return that loyalty, and she couldn't see that changing any time soon. Even if the Pinkertons came for them.

“Sure are quiet over there,” Bill called from where he was loading tack onto one of the wagons.

“Just thinking,” she answered, hurling a bale of hay.

“Oh, well, guess I better stay outta that. Never been too good at thinkin'.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Shut up, you fool.”

“Oh, now you're gonna tease me? After all that work you did, tryin' to get the others to knock it off, here you come, just...”

She jogged over the ground, gently grabbing his beard to pull him into a kiss. “I said, shut up.”

“Ow,” he replied, swatting her hand away, though even his beard couldn't hide the grin he was fighting.

“I was just thinking that... well... whatever happens, as long as Dutch is with us... I'm with him.”

Bill smiled a bit. “Good.”

#my writing #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #bill williamson #bill williamson x oc #charles smith #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #lashes

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