#cobert drabble

[juliasdowntonstuff]

Valentine´s Day drabble

A new drabble has just been posted to ff and ao3 — very last minute on Valentine's Day. It is not entirely on theme for the occasion, but this is as sweet and fluffy as my writing is likely to ever get haha

It had been a long day, Robert couldn't deny it. At dinner, all he kept thinking about was the comfortable bed waiting here in their bedroom with the soft pillows and the warm down duvet — and not to forget his Cora next to him, too. But now that he had finally managed to excuse them from the drawing room, changed into his nightclothes quicker than ever and got into bed, he simply couldn't get to sleep. Cora had joined him on the bed as soon as her jewellery had been meticulously placed in the jewellery box on her dressing table and immediately scooted closer, her hand coming to rest on his chest like it always did. He knew instinctively she had been exhausted, too.

Surely, she was fast asleep by now, so he shouldn't bother her with this. But there in the dark bedroom, still half-sitting up in bed with his hand behind his head, he could not stop thinking of the words his mother had said that afternoon when he paid her a visit.

"Cora?" he quietly asked into the darkness against his better judgment, selfishly hoping that she was not fast asleep already.

Without moving or even opening her eyes, Cora only hummed sleepily in response, she had almost fallen to sleep.

She had sensed before that something was troubling Robert, he was not as talkative as he usually was in the evenings. Once he came in through the door to his dressing room, he had only taken off his robe and slid into bed immediately. She hadn't felt his eyes on her either while she was still taking off her rings, which was very rare for him. Clearly, something was bothering him, she should have known that sleep would not come easy that night — for either of them.

"Do you like me?" he whispered, staring into the darkness ahead.

At this, Cora finally moved. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, turning around in bed to switch on the lamp on her bedside table, and then looked at her husband with a bewildered expression on her face. She had expected a lot, but certainly not this.

"Just that. Do you like me?" he repeated before he turned on his light as well.

Cora was sitting up in bed, propping herself up on her left arm and she looked quizzically at her husband when she said: "I don't understand where this is coming from?"

Robert sighed as he, too, turned on his side to face her more fully. "It's just something Mama told me from her and Isobel's rather scandalous rescue mission of Dickie a few days ago that I can't seem to forget."

He had hoped this explanation was enough for her to finally answer his question, as simple as he deemed it to be. However, her brows only furrowed further, and her head tilted to the side. "You saw Mama today, then? Because I've been meaning to ask. What was this mysterious mission about?"

"Apparently, Isobel realised that she indeed loves Dickie. She had not heard from him in a while and wanted to see how he was doing but was denied entry by his son and daughter-in-law. According to Mama, Amelia and Larry had been keeping Isobel from seeing him so they would not have to relinquish any possible claims to his estate. It all came to a head while we were at Brancaster when Mama took matters into her own hands, took Isobel and all but barged into Cavenham to get him out. Dickie had been entirely unaware of his family's plotting, and has now moved in with Isobel in the village. They are to be married soon," Robert explained as if he was just telling her about the weather forecast for the coming week.

Cora's eyes widened in shock. "That does sound quite scandalous, indeed! Why did Mary not mention any of this at dinner?" she asked.

"I don't think that Mary knew about this. Mama only said it was very recent and that she hadn't been up here since then. I can tell you, she was dying to finally tell this story. As much as she pretends to hate gossip, she sure likes to engage in some occasionally."

Cora chuckled lightly at Robert's statement and the truth behind it — the sound caused her husband to crack up as well.

"But Isobel and Dickie getting married after all? I am so happy for them!" Cora exclaimed excitedly, almost too loudly for Robert's liking. When she saw him wince at the sudden loudness, she added much more softly: "They are a well-suited pair, aren't they?".

When he didn't reply, she turned off her light again and slid back down in bed to lie next to Robert. He was still turned to face her, and her hand came up to play with the collar of his sleep shirt.

"I'd say they are," he said absent-mindedly. "But please answer me, Cora."

"Darling, I love you. We have been married for thirty-five years now, so by all accounts, why wouldn't I like you?" Cora's hand let go of his shirt and slid up his neck to cup his cheek, brushing over the light stubble on his jaw.

Robert closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He loved these quiet moments when it was just the two of them and they could be as openly affectionate as they pleased. Usually, her touch calmed his frayed nerves almost immediately, taking his worries away one gentle caress at a time. But not that night; as much as he relished in it, his mind was still reeling, his thoughts revolved entirely around that one question. "That does not necessarily mean you like me."

"Robert, it is too late for that kind of nitpicking" Cora sighed and he could tell she was starting to get annoyed with him. "Can't we talk about this tomorrow? I have to attend the meeting at the hospital early tomorrow morning."

"Larry, as my son I love you, but I've tried and failed to like you. That is what Dickie said, according to Mama. And I think it not only pertains to their relationship. So many other couples like us can't stand each other or don't have much in common, and yet spend their entire lives together. I need to know, Cora. Because I not only love you with all my heart, but I also like you — very much. In fact, I liked you long before I loved you. But you always say you loved me from the start, so the question remains. Do you like me?"

Cora's hand stilled its motions. One look into his pleading eyes told her that he was truly worried about this, whether she liked him or not. To her, it was such a silly question for him to ask her. But this seemed to be so very important to him.

She smiled tenderly at him, her sleepy eyes staring deeply into his, and she said: "I doubt our marriage could have been as happy as it has been if we did not like each other, darling. I indeed loved you from the start, even before I really knew you. But we spent time together, we got to know each other — I firmly believe that I know you better than anyone else in the world, and you know me best, too. You are a part of me, Robert, you always will be. The things about you that I don't love, I like. And the things I don't like, I love. Easy as that. So yes, I do like you."

Robert breathed deeply, sighing nervously in relief shortly thereafter when her hand began to dance lightly across his cheek again. His right hand mirrored hers, while his left reached for her hand on his cheek and slowly brought it to his lips. He affectionately kissed her knuckles, letting his lips linger on her soft skin, but his eyes never left hers.

"Thank you for that, my dear," he breathed, watching her cheeks colour in the soft glow from the light behind him. "Now I shall let you have your deserved rest before tomorrow whisks you away from me to the hospital yet again."

Quickly, Robert turned off the lamp on his side of the bed as well and laid back down. He did not have to wait long for Cora to come close again. But instead of settling down, she pushed herself up one last time. Surprised by this, he put his hand on her shoulder and looked intently at her.

"You don't have to worry so much, Robert. I know this stems from the nature of the marriage agreement we first came to so many years ago, and you will likely never stop thinking and feeling guilty about it, but you and I have been happy together for so many years. We have been through unthinkable things together. Please, never doubt my love for you. And never doubt my liking you, either," she smiled, adding that last bit — not as an afterthought, but as a reassurance.

He smiled sheepishly at her while his fingers absent-mindedly played with the strap of her nightdress in the dark. "I'm sorry, darling. You are right, of course."

Cora only pressed a lingering kiss on his lips in response before settling down by his side with her hand and face resting on his chest again. Sleep did not evade him much longer, his mind now put at ease with the reassurance of his wife lying there next to him, who indeed liked him, very much so.

"I would not let you come and sleep next to me every night if I didn't like you," Cora whispered playfully into the darkness of the room after a while. And his wife was right, as she usually was. He knew she wouldn't. "I would also definitely not let you sleep with me, either."

Robert's head turned quickly to look at her — only he could not make out anything in the darkness. What he could feel, though, was her smirk against his chest, and he knew that she had been very deliberate in her choice of words. He would have to seek some form of revenge for the things she still managed to do to him whenever she pleased. But that would be a task for the next day. For now, they both just went to sleep in each other's arms.

[bella-caecilia]

#5 red for the colour prompt! Love these colour stories♥️

Thank you for the lovely prompt <3 You might have already forgotten this ask, but after an eternity, I finally wrote the red one-shot! It's set in s2 when they open up Downton Abbey as a convalescent home (s2e2/s2e3 I didn't do a rewatch, so please bear with possible inconsistencies). Other characters' POV on Cobert with eventual Cobert smut at the end <3

M-rated content in the last third :)

Red – Passion (& Energy)

The Dowager Countess sat at the dinner table at the Abbey. The world was moving especially fast lately, and Violet tried her best to move with it. The great bustle at Downton Abbey was certainly something that she had to get used to; it was too far from what she knew. Her daughter-in-law had made it very clear that the decision about the convalescent home didn’t lie with the older matriarch. I hesitate to remind you, but this is my house now, Robert’s and mine. And we will make the decision. She couldn’t think of a moment where her daughter-in-law had shown such force. Never had she put her foot down in that manner with Violet. It had stunned the Dowager.

As she looked at Cora across the table now, she realised that Cora had something she hadn’t. Something that gave her the determination to turn Downton Abbey into a convalescent home and do her part in the big war. Something that made her loudly counter the Dowager. Cora – the way her flawless alabaster skin was hugged by the dark dress, and her light eyes were wide in attention to take up everything her conversation partner said – had the energy of a young woman. Violet didn’t. She had other things to make up for it. The knowledge of decades witnessing the life at Downton Abbey, understanding people and knowing how they would act, knowing what was worth the effort. But the energy she saw in Cora, she didn’t have anymore. When she thought about it, she wasn’t sure if she had been like that when she had been Cora’s age. She didn’t see Cora as a particularly young woman. By God, she had three daughters of age. No, Violet hadn’t felt young and energetic at 46. But somehow, this was exactly what Cora was exuding. It wasn’t a nice thing to say, but Violet thought that the war was doing Cora good. She seemed to be the only one the war wasn’t ageing. She was probably choosing rightly with burdening herself with the convalescent home.

As Violet chewed on her piece of chicken breast without a great appetite, she kept her eyes on her daughter-in-law. The dark robe she wore was truly captivating. Violet found the ladies at Downton could pull off the newer fashions quite well. Not that she would wear it herself, but it complimented the younger ladies' features nicely. And apparently, Cora was still one of the younger ladies. The dark fabric – Violet wasn’t able to tell whether it was black or a really deep red – pulled attention to Cora’s wide neckline, and it was easy to get lost in the easily perceivable rise and fall of her creamy decolletage. Why would a married woman dress so close to the line of vulgarity? The Dowager Countess had to shake herself to notice she wasn’t the only one lost in Cora’s bosom. Her son next to her had slowed down his eating so much that it got suspicious the manner in which his eyes were glued to his wife’s chest.

Violet cleared her throat before she brought the next piece of chicken to her mouth and gladly, it was enough to pull her son from his stupor.

“Aren’t you spending too much on the women’s wardrobes for war times?” she asked Robert, her eyes directed at her plate instead of him.

“What? Do you think so?” he sounded confused.

“Apart from Sybil who keeps wearing the same dress, the girls and Cora are presenting new excesses of fashion daily.”

“It’s only the gowns for dinner, I think. And I am surprised you are mentioning your opposition to that. I thought you praised that upholding the customs and a proper lifestyle even in these times is our responsibility.”

“Yes, but it seems, contrary to the people in this house I know the right measure,” she quipped.

Cora’s head turned around and she looked at the two of them. They appeared to have attracted her attention. There was always this constant smile on her lips even if there was concern behind her forehead. Her earrings dangled bouncily from her ears. The ruby jewellery matched the necklace adorning her exposed neck, and still moved from the quick whip of her head. Like drops of deep red blood, the shining stones hovered a few centimetres from her unblemished skin.

Violet didn’t continue the short dispute with Robert. There was no need to get Cora involved in this marginal back and forth. The Dowager brought her glass of wine to her lips instead.

Cora’s look was merely directed at her husband now. The corners of her mouth twitched, and then it was over as quickly as it began. Cora touched her necklace with her fingertips, running them softly over the stones, before she picked up her knife again and said something unintelligible to Edith sitting to her left.

Violet wasn’t missing that her son still followed his wife’s every move. He seemed to have forgotten his food entirely. His cutlery was carelessly discarded on his plate. And he ignored his mother, whom he should entertain now as custom dictated, completely. Since she didn’t feel like discussing anything of little importance, she let him be and unwillingly found herself joining him in observing Cora.

O’Brien really did a brilliant job with these chocolate curls. The way just the right ones bounced at every nod of her head certainly added to the countess’s charm. Her face glowed with enthusiasm and her eyes were wide and awake, not all as tired as Violet certainly felt. As she thought for a second about her own tiredness, she had to stifle a yawn. She wasn’t one for long evenings anymore. Because her mind became lazy as jadedness overtook her body, Violet once again got caught up in the shiny rubies on Cora’s neck and head. The warm light of the candles got caught in them and bound Violet with the transfixing illusion they created. Cora’s occasional touch against the stones on her neck or how the ones hanging from her ears brushed her shoulders just where they were still bare made an impression on Violet that let her think there was something slightly erotic about it and she shouldn’t actually be watching. With delayed reactions, she finally tore her gaze from her daughter-in-law and a single look at her son confirmed her suspicions. There was something erotic about it. Robert’s mouth hung slightly open. The red reflections of the rubies sprinkled across his face. Violet saw him gulp as Cora let a laugh slip from her lips; a sound that wasn’t that common anymore since war had been declared. These were no times for laughter. But somehow Cora seemed to have found something that demanded such an openly happy reaction.

Eventually, it was enough for Violet. She rather briskly addressed Robert and implicitly forbade his ogling of his wife as she claimed the dinner conversation with him. If he and his wife wanted to be soppy and merry despite the gloomy times, they could do so in their private moments together, not at the dinner table. And if they weren’t strong enough to ensure it, Violet had to take care of it. Even if it wasn’t her house anymore. Some decisions still had to be made by her.

…

O’Brien tried to finish the steps of Her Ladyship’s nightly routine as quickly as possible. She was exhausted and still had to make some alterations on a few nightgowns. She didn’t want to be the last one leaving the servant’s hall this night, so she hurried the tasks in the Mercia bedroom.

Her Ladyship seemed to be in a good mood tonight. She didn’t appear nearly as exhausted as O’Brien felt but after all, she didn’t spend her day hardworking. Lady Grantham glowed just the same as when O’Brien had dressed her for dinner, her blue eyes full of life and somehow, O’Brien thought, with a cheeky glint in them. When O’Brien finally got her to sit at the dressing table, her deft fingers quickly took up the task of pulling the pins from the dark curls. Her intricate handiwork that had served for a short night was unravelled in an instant. Her Ladyship was imbued with a constant low hum. Only briefly, it was disrupted by a serious thought that instantly showed on her face. She then scrutinised herself in the mirror with a furrowed brow and a grave look in the eyes, her mind entirely elsewhere than as present as the intense stare indicated. And as quickly as these thoughts came, they went again.

O’Brien could only guess that the convalescent home was always in the back of her head. No wonder. This monstrous invasion of the house would weigh heavy on anyone’s mind. It was actually strange how light-hearted Her Ladyship still was a great deal of the time. But she was a very gullible person after all. She barely seemed to catch on to the gravity of the things, having only lived the most guarded way of life. Whenever she seemed to sense that something was more severe, though, she had a rather dramatic way of putting on a display of worry in her wide puppy eyes.

O’Brien sighed. Her Ladyship’s eyes met hers in the mirror.

“Is anything the matter, O’Brien?”

“No, it’s nothing, milady,” she quickly replied. “It’s just…” she hesitated, and sure enough Her Ladyship urged her with her look to elaborate. “I am worried the convalescent home will be a great burden on you and the house. It is very honourable and generous of you to provide your home for the greater good of the country. It just gives me a lot to worry about with so many strange men in your house.”

Another tress tumbled down onto Lady Grantham’s shoulder. She smiled at her maid.

“I understand why you’re worried and I appreciate how involved you are with the family’s wellbeing since you would not have to do that at all. It speaks well for you as an employee. But the convalescent home is going just perfectly fine. And there is no option to not do your part in the war. We have to supply what we can. So, we share our home with the ones in need.”

Strange how it was just so easy for the countess.

O’Brien bowed her head and ran her fingers over Her Ladyship’s scalp as the last pin was loosened.

“Yes, milady,” she mumbled into the dark hair and aimed at her goal of hurrying the process again. She made a few quick brushes through particularly tangled strands. Her Ladyship was twisting the ruby jewellery that she had just taken off her neck around her fingers, creating a ruby coil, that O’Brien already saw the necklace snap and the red stones dotting the floor before her inner eye. With a quick motion, she gathered the hair at the nape of Her Ladyship’s neck and stretched out her free arm to reach for the prepared red ribbon. Her eyes fell onto another red item that lay precariously just on the edge of the dressing table. Her Ladyship must have put it there herself because O’Brien couldn’t remember touching it.

It was a red little book, and O’Brien immediately tried to forget the booklet's title. She didn’t want to know these kinds of things. The title itself didn’t immediately allude to the ‘things’ discussed inside. But ‘Of Venturesome Philosophy’ didn’t appear for the first time in her Ladyship’s bedroom. One time, quite a few years ago, O’Brien had picked the red booklet up with the intention to put it away. Inadvertently, she had picked up the cover so that a random page had fallen open. A page that held an illustration O’Brien wouldn’t forget so quickly. She really didn’t need to know in which positions a man and woman could find themselves if the devil of savage creativity overtook them.

Now, the book was there again after it had gladly vanished for some years. O’Brien felt her fingers stiffen in the first waves of shock. She fumbled clumsily with the ribbon and had to brush the hair again as she didn’t manage to put on the ribbon properly.

Was this house really going down so completely now? Abasement of morality at every corner. Did the brutes of veterans maybe have a bad influence on Her Ladyship? Did she think it was alright to allow such uncivilised customs to take over because she saw the primitiveness of the ‘guests’ in her house?

However, O’Brien couldn’t do anything about it. It was a shame. Not that she cared greatly about Her Ladyship’s reputation or morals. She couldn’t care less about the decay of the family. But it irritated her greatly that her influence on Lady Grantham seemed to go null lately while others had much more control over her. She worked hard to hold sway over Her Ladyship, doing so much to gain her trust and be her confidante. What was she doing wrong?

“Did you manage to do the alterations I wanted?” Her Ladyship looked at the nightgown laying on a chair nearby.

“I’m afraid, not yet, milady. I wanted to do it tonight.”

“Oh, I see. That’s alright. Then I have to make do with…” she drew out the sentence in an inquiring tone, and O’Brien quickly leapt to the chair and held up the nightgown for Lady Grantham. It was rather light and had very short sleeves but O’Brien noticed Her Ladyship’s glance to the hem of the dress and assumed it was a bit too long for her liking.

“Alright. That is actually a nice one, isn’t it?” She rose from her seat at the dressing table.

O’Brien disliked these questions. “Yes, milady.” Putting the nightdress away again, she helped Her Ladyship undress, loosening the corset, taking off the skirts, unlacing the bodice, and finally pulling off the chemise. Lady Grantham’s creamy skin was bare before her and the dainty shoulders and back filled a great part of the maid’s vision. She noticed a bruise-like mark on her neck that hadn’t been there in the morning but she decided to better ignore it for now. Wishing to depart as soon as possible, she helped Her Ladyship into the nightgown.

“Is there anything else, milady?”

“I think that’s all. Goodnight, O’Brien.”

“Goodnight, milady.”

With the mahogany evening gown over her arm, O’Brien left the Mercia bedroom and took a deep breath once she closed the door behind her.

…

Everything tingled and prickled in him as her soft, soft skin glided over his. His hands roamed every part of her body he could reach to get as much of the velvety touch as possible. Her look from dinner was still a vision before his inner eye. The glint in her eyes as her look briefly brushed him. The touch of her fingertips to her neck where she traced the red shiny jewellery so tantalisingly. The hearty laugh that pulled the attention of the whole dinner party to her cherry lips. What had taken hold of her that today she was so seducing in everything she did?

Now, Robert sat with his back against the headboard. His clothes had been off him in no time as Cora quickly ensnarled him and drew her long fingers in stimulating patterns over his covered skin. Her position now in his lap, the nightgown thrown somewhere behind her, was the only reasonable position for her, Robert thought. His face was buried in her hair, and Cora, keeping her lips on the shell of his ear as best as she could while placing soft kisses there, made sounds that sent all his blood in an instant to his lap. She moved purposefully on top of him. He grunted into the tangles of her hair; her flowery scent clouding his senses. His lips searched her neck and connected with the tender skin he found there.

“So, what did you read tonight?” he groaned without lifting his head.

He had recognised the book immediately, even though she tried to push it into the drawer of her bedside table as soon as he turned the doorknob. The red cover was engrained on his brain. Immediate anticipatory excitement set in as Cora still stammered with red tips of her ears that it was only coincidentally that the book had fallen into her hands and that she had looked into it without any intentions. Her awkward reaction was the biggest giveaway that she had something planned indeed.

Robert wisely decided to not press the topic and merely reduce the distance between them. She would follow her plans soon and undoubtedly enough.

“You gave me no time to read anything,” she breathed, and her words were loud and hot with her lips directly at his ear.

Cora pulled back and took his face into her hands. Her thumbs rested on his cheeks; her little fingers hooked under his jaw. Her eyes assessed his face shortly, the big pupils growing even larger before her lips descended onto his. And even though she had just pulled him from the delicious perfumy warmth of her neck, Robert couldn’t fault her and was grateful for the taste of her plump lips. There was no way he could stop kissing her once he’d started. It was too addictive.

Her warm body pressed down on him. Robert couldn’t help the occasional involuntary jerk against her warm centre. His arms circled her as completely as possible and pulled her flush against him.

Her bottom lip between his teeth, he breathed, “I know that you have plans with me.”

Cora’s palms settled on his shoulders. Her chest struggled against his with every desperate breath she took. Robert released her lips and Cora rested her forehead against his, gasping open-mouthed. Her look was directed down between them and she didn’t answer. Robert tried to find her eyes so up close but there were just down-cast lids and flattering lashes.

“What do you want to do?” he prompted her, unsure if maybe she needed more reassurance.

“Uhm… I don’t know if it works,” she finally gave in; her voice a soft tone.

“Golly, what have you read there?”

She pulled back. The warm contact of her forehead breaking immediately left a cold sensation of loss on his skin. Cora still looked down. Her hands left his shoulders too and took up playing with each other’s thumbs. Robert kept his eyes firmly on her for the pleasing nude vision in front of him. His palms rested on her hips.

“I wanted to try something different, something new, because… I… I don’t really know why. But when I took a look into the… well, you know, I realised we already did quite many things. I don’t know if we really have to try the more… experimental ones.” At the end of her explanation, she looked up into his eyes and looked for his reaction.

“But would you like to? Because if so, then I’d say we try it. Your ideas have always been quite fun,” he smiled.

“Alright.” She shuffled on his lap; a smirk playing around her lips. Robert twitched at the sensations on his groin he was unprepared for. Cora sat back on his thighs and gave Robert some relief. Her direct look at him was more confident now.

As she spoke her fingers ran through the hairs on his chest, “For the one I saw, we wouldn’t necessarily need a bed,” Robert’s eyes grew wide, “at least I think,” Cora considered. “I’m still trying to understand it. And I’m not sure if it would work. It could be too straining on you,” she explained.

“Too straining?” Didn’t she think him capable? “Do you think I can’t do it?”

“No, I didn’t say that, but look,” she stretched to open the drawer of her bedside table while only barely lifting herself onto her knees. She rummaged in the drawer. “You’d have to hold me like this.” She flipped the pages of the red book, the many illustrations blurring in front of Robert’s eyes. As Cora found the page, she quickly put on her hands on the pictures he shouldn’t see. Cora was the keeper of the book. She gave Robert only the most necessary insights. One time, when the book had been quite new, Cora made the mistake of showing Robert the book openly. His first shock changed to confusion about the great variety. And his confusion didn’t make for a pleasing experience. It wasn’t smart to try it all once.

The illustration she now showed him portrayed a man in an upright position holding a woman on his hips, his hands on her backside, the woman wound erotically around him. Her leg was up high around his back.

“We can do this,” he quickly decided. It reminded him of the naughty things they had done on his desk on rare and desperate occasions. It was just, as Cora had said, that he had to carry her, instead of the desk doing this job. And the slightly different angle piqued Robert’s interest.

Cora’s eyes shone at his quick response. “Really?”

The book was tucked away a bit helplessly as Robert’s hands already distracted Cora and hazed her clear thoughts. Robert could immediately see the change in her eyes.

They soon found themselves in an aroused tangle, and the exact position didn’t matter primarily for their intimacy anymore. Still, Robert was determined to get them where Cora had wished them to be. He wouldn’t leave her wishes unsatisfied. But it was very hard to leave the bed when it all was already so nice and comfortable with his soft Cora in his arms. He indulged a while longer, her lips drinking the sweet nectar of pleasure from his and he gladly provided and reciprocated.

And then, he finally rose, pushed himself off her and the bed, and stood aroused at the edge of the bed. His dampened undergarments soon connected with the floor, and then he picked the flushed Cora who also struggled from her last garment and lifted her up. Her legs nestled to his body and locked around his hips. Cora hugged him tightly as her lips found his again in a fiery kiss. She was so close that it couldn’t compare to the position on his desk. Robert’s arms secured her to him, and he had to steel his resistance when Cora’s hot and wet centre dragged along his arousal. The mewl in her throat slopped into his mouth as her tongue pushed inside.

After a quick agreement, both of them desperately excited by now, Robert flexed his arm to lift her ever higher. Her wet lust dragged along his abdomen and he groaned. Her moans filled the small space between them. Then, he finally lowered her onto himself. Her nimble fingers shot down between them, gripped him gently and guided him inside.

The way they rode through pleasure then, filled Robert with the greatest sense of fulfilment. Yes, it was a challenging task that demanded all his muscle work to let her bounce so deliciously on him. But being needed so fully and completely – having to give his all – made his heart leap as highly as it had just been about to forget was possible.

“Robert,” she cried. And his urge intensified.

Only his name and variations of approving sounds were uttered by her. Robert focused his energy on his bodily performance. Merely silent groans accompanied his work.

Cora’s limbs were everywhere at once, and Robert tried not to lose his orientation completely. When the twist of her hips towards his doubled the pleasurable experience, they both fell into a simultaneous deep groan. The moment she pushed deliriously down on him, more pronounced words left her lips.

More an enlightened revelation on the brink of total bliss than a desperate demand, she called in euphoric laughter, “I need you, Robert.” She giving voice to his thoughts – that he was capable to give her exactly what she needed – made something in Robert snap, and he furiously rode through the hazy clouds of lust. Cora’s calls grew more distant and closer at the same time. And he spasmed into her as her whole body clamped around him.

She needed him.

It was the thought that accompanied him for the rest of the hazy night, after he fell weakly – with her in his arms – onto the bed again, as sleep was coming and going while she dreamed in deep unrousable slumber in his arms and by his side, the certainty that with her, he had a purpose to serve – an important one he fulfilled successfully – gave him complete peace of mind for this night.

...

if you want to send another prompt, here is the prompt list: Colour symbol prompts

[levinson-mannion]

Quiet Me for Cobert <3

Leave a “Quiet Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character trying to calm another down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

-

Robert sat open mouthed at the scene that just occurred. As usual, his mother had been unkind towards Cora and as usual Robert had said nothing- hell his sister said more then he did.

The room was silent, you could hear every breath everyone made till finally the silence was broke by Rosamund’s slap to her brothers head.

“Go after her You fool-“

Robert regained his senses and stood, chair scraping across the floor as he pointed at his mother “Don’t think this over how DARE you talk to my wife like that night after night it’s enough now.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked out.

“CORA??” He ran across the house and into the garden’s where he found a weeping Cora.

“Oh Cora-“

Cora spun around in panic wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry Robert, I shouldn’t of lashed out I am just so tired of being a laughing stick to your family I’m trying so hard-“ she continued to ramble but Robert enveloped her in a hug and she melted in his arms words turning into quiet sobs.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. I love You, i love You so much I shouldn’t of just stood by I love you and I won’t let it happen again.”

Cora drew back and stared at him “you…you love me?”

Robert nodded and kissed her lips gently, “yes, yes I do.”

A smile graced her lips. “Somehow those three words just possibly made me feel better then I thought possible.”

[ohtobealady]

💛 For Cobert (obvs!!!) 😁

Hi darling! Better late than never? Have an offering of an unedited mobile drabble. It’s very angsty, and I’m not sorry about that, but I do still hope you find something about it you like.

💛 reunion kiss / relief ——————————

Robert put his hand on the glass knob of the dividing door and waited a moment before he turned it. It was true he’d held her as they wept this afternoon. It was true he’d put his hand over hers in the motor as they journeyed home again. It was also true that when they returned home from Mama’s, she’d touched his arm—her gloved fingers holding the muscle—before she made her way upstairs to lie down. He’d nearly asked her then, if he should come up with her, but he was still unsure. The reconciliation was too fragile, too delicate, as if one wrong word would permanently sever whatever still tied them to one another. Holding her when Clarkson left—he hadn’t made the conscious decision to do that. He’d only seen her breaking—his Cora—and he’d gone to her. It wasn’t until he felt her soften against him that he’d realized she was in his arms, and he cried.

This was different. Joining her in her room again was different. Even though she’d looked at him across the table at dinner tonight with a gentleness that felt like the past, this was different. Going into her room again—asking to sleep beside her…if she turned him away, he wasn’t certain he could endure it.

She won’t, he told himself. His mind pleaded for him to acknowledge whatever it was that still tied them to one another. Not their past-–not anymore. It was too painful to think of the way they had been before…but perhaps their girls. Their living girls.

His heart ached.

Their grandchild.

And his heart ached more, for Cora.

Robert looked at the knob in his hand, and he turned it just as he’d done a thousand nights before. But this time, like a young, foolish boy hurrying through a churchyard, he held his breath as he went through.

Her room was dim, the blue darker than in his memory, but in the lamplight his eyes found hers immediately.

And he took in a shallow breath.

For the first time in weeks and weeks, when he looked at her, he felt her there with him again. And Robert’s aching heart broke.

“I’ll understand if you still need time apart, here. That is—” He fumbled his speech a little, not being able to bring himself to move any of his fears into words, and so instead he swallowed and started again. “I thought I might—“ and yet he could not say that either. Hope hurt nearly as much as grief did. No. He let his presence take the place of the words he couldn’t quite bring himself to say.

And he waited silently before, sitting in her bed, he saw as Cora drew in a long breath, her thin shoulders rising in her thinner nightdress.

“Oh, Robert.” Then, her towering breath came quavering out. “Stay.”

He found himself swallowing down the thick emotion choking him. This was a feeling greater than relief. Greater and more painfully dear than relief could ever be.

He worked off his housecoat as he heard Cora shifting the sheets of her bedding, and when he moved to her, he saw she’d pulled the bedclothes back, and then met her gaze.

Nearly immediately her lovely face stiffened and her mouth turned slowly into a frown, and Robert nearly fell into her bed to meet her.

She rolled to him, and he put his arms around her and held her shuddering form tightly to his chest. He felt her warm breath through the silk of his pajamas and he felt the way her face pushed into the space beneath his chin, her nose beneath the curve of his jaw, and he pulled her closer.

He cried even if what he felt was less like sorrow than it did all the weeks before. It was still grief, but softer now; his chest that Cora pressed against felt so tight and yet he found himself able to breathe with her there. Had he not been able to breathe before?

She shifted in his arms, shifted her face up to his, her temple against his jaw, and he heard as she breathed, too, taking in shaking pulls of air. And her wet lashes brushed against his cheek.

“I was so cruel.” Her voice hardly made any words at all through the tremble of her breath, but he heard her, and he shook his head against hers.

“—No, I—“

“—how can you ever forgive me?”

“Darling.”

“I was so angry that I still loved you.” Here, Cora pulled slightly away and he saw that she looked at him, her sobs controlled, her tears not. He closed his eyes, but he still heard her. “How can you forgive me? For not wanting to love you?”

Robert choked, shook, and then pulled her against him once more. He pushed his face against hers, his cheek feeling hers, and again though his chest ached, his body softened. And it was a comfort to sob against her.

“You don’t need my forgiveness,” he managed against her ear, and her head moved toward the sound, his lips. He felt them contort into a frown. “But I have needed you.”

And Cora sobbed anew, her face pushing against his, and their lips finding each other—jaw, cheeks, and tears—before he held her ever tighter and cried.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Drabble - Donk

Cora was waiting for Robert to come to bed, she had already gotten under the covers, leaning against the headboard, she watched how Robert entered her bedroom.

"You would not mind heading the war memorial appeal, would you?" She asked.

"I feel a bit embarrassed. I was not wounded. I was not even allowed to fight." He pulled the covers back and sat down. "They should ask a man like General McKee or Johnnie Raymond. Someone how did their bit." He kicked of his slippers.

"You are their traditional leader, and they like you to pray with them in mourning and in gratitude." Cora said softly.

"I should be praying in the back row, not the front. That's all." Robert said with a sad voice.

Cora felt sorry for him, he had been so disappointed when it turned out that they did not want him to go to the front, and his uniform was now only for show. She waited for him to lay down before she got on her side. She put her hand on his upper arm, softly brushing his skin. His own hand brushed through his hair. Something he did when he was unsure about things. Suddenly he turned his head and looked at Cora. "And can we prevent George from picking up the name Donk."

This made Cora smile, she chuckled. "I am afraid that we cannot change that name anymore. You are Donk."

"Ugh." He growled. "It is not dignified. I wish they would just call me grandpapa."

Cora scooted a bit closer, sliding her hand over his chest. "Do you really want that?"

Robert lowered his hand and covered hers, but did not reply.

"I think it is very adorable, that Sybbie calls you Donk. It is her special name for you, and you will learn to like it."

This brought a smile on Roberts face. "I guess you are right."

"Of course, I am. We have been married for almost 34 years now, I think I know you by now." She pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"34 years, what a time."

"Do you regret marrying me?" She asked, the last couple of weeks, Robert had been distant. When she showed interest in what was going on around the estate, he cut her off.

Robert lifted her hand towards his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. "I am a very lucky man, that I can call you, my wife." He turned on his side, facing her. He brushed with his nose over hers. "Sleep well." A quick kiss was pressed on her lips. His hand was still holding hers and she cherished this feeling.

She was lucky herself to. She had a husband that loved her, loved his daughters and he adored his grandchildren. He was their Donk, and he would always be their Donk.

[randomabiling]

NaNoWriMo Entry #2

Pearl

July, 1891

“Robert, I don’t know what was so important-”.

His lips were upon hers and the rest of her words were swallowed into the depths of his soul as he covered her mouth so completely she gasped for air. Hands, greedy to feel every inch of her, pressed into the tender places that made her squirm with pleasure. Eyes closed, pops of light burst behind her lids as he pinched and caressed and pulled. Her mind spiraled into a dizzying freefall, all thoughts of seating charts and flower arrangements interrupted. There was no longer thinking, just a frenzy of feelings and impulses as her own hands instinctively responded, manipulating him in the ways he liked, making him groan and pant as he backed her into the wall.

She felt the absence of his hand and heard the small click of the lock, the knob secured against intrusion. It was like the release of a dam, both of them becoming more frantic in their movements, tearing at skirts and clasps and buttons. The loss of clothing made her hot skin prickle with gooseflesh and her shiver only fueled Robert’s need as he pushed her onto their bed and topped her. Finally finding the friction she craved as his body filled every blank space on hers, Cora rocked against him, taking him deep and holding him tightly. Their undulating rhythms quickened, and their release crested at the same time, both of them crashing against each other with each pleasurable and delicious wave.

When they’d both stilled, Robert collapsed beside her, his head resting on her sweaty shoulder, is finger tracing patterns above her breast. The tip touched the string of pearls still roped around her neck. She could feel one of the beads cradled in the hollow between her collar bones and that was the one he played with, pushing it back and forth lazily. The jewelry had been a gift from him after Mary’s birth and had quickly become one of her favorite pieces. 

“I should have thought on this more, when I bought it.” Robert leaned upward on his elbow, his face hovering over hers and his eyes directed onto the pearls.

“Hmm?” Cora felt drowsy suddenly, the carnal exertion adding to the almost constant fatigue she felt as the mother of an infant. 

“It covers my favorite spot!” Robert’s pout made her chuckle, and slowly his head dipped lower and he suckled the spot the pearl had occupied. The attention, the lingering kisses that grew more passionate, set her flesh tingling once again. 

“The suprasternal notch.” Cora’s voice cracked as his hand slid up the length of her body, as it cradled the slope of her breast. 

“Whatever it is, it’s glorious.It’s mine.” Robert’s mouth covered hers and her hips lifted in response, the pearls forgotten as they sailed towards release for a second time. 

[modernamericangirl]

Cobert + note, please and thank you darling! <3

Cora found the note slipped inconspicuously among the mass of papers strewn across her desk. Between scribblings about the weekly menu and half-finished responses to invitations for teas and dinners and the like was his characteristic scrawl: thin, stuttering, with firm slashes through each t.

I want you, the note said. Every moment of every day, I want you.

She flushed even now, hours later, thinking of his words.

Robert was not terribly expressive. He would easily offer her a flower picked on his walk, a half-smile over tea, or the gentle press of his lips to her cheek as they woke. But words of adoration came more slowly, more carefully. And so, she pressed the note once more into her pocket, savoring each blotch of ink, each fold of paper. For the wonderful truth was that she, every moment of every day, wanted him too.

[decino]

@adoracora-elizabeth asked for "Cobert + last kiss".

Cora was the first one to pull away from their long but sweet kiss, then smiling at her husband as she looks up and down at him in his war uniform.

“Be back safe to us.” she said “You and Matthew, most especially.”

“I’ll come running to your arms when I’m back.” Robert smiles.

The train then whistled loudly, and Robert smiles at her one last time.

“I love you.”

“And I love you more.”

But little did she know, that was their very last moments together…

…because it was only Matthew who ever came back.

[coffeishowifunction]

What made Cobert your favourite couple on Downton?

It was Tumblr that got me specifically into Cobert. At the start I couldn't stand Robert but I think @ohtobealady 's drabbles brought me around on him lol. And I've been hooked ever since.

Feel free to send on some more asks xx

[juliasdowntonstuff]

Oooo "I don't need a lot to be happy" sounds very intriguing!

Haven't worked on this one in a while, but I am kinda glad you asked for it. I might actually finish it soon-ish now that it is back on the table.

I´ll give you a snippet from the beginning :)

Dearest Papa,

We sincerely hope you are somewhere safe and not getting yourself in danger. 

Mama just told us we could write a few lines and put them into her envelope to be sent to you along with her letter, but we do not have much time. 

All of us miss you so terribly much and we cannot wait for the next time you get home on leave. It seems like we have already forgotten what you look like — Edith and I have had quite the argument about the colour of your hair. She says it is dark blond, while I think your hair is light brown. You do need to settle this for us, so please come home soon!

Mama has not been feeling too well since the last time you were home to see us. Ever since you left again, she has been in her room for most of her days and has not taken much interest in anything apart from tea with us and Granny occasionally. She looks so awfully, awfully sad all the time and we have not managed to cheer her up for long. Edith and I even played the piano and sang for her while Sybil danced! 

Granny said that she is worried about Mama's lack of interest, and I have never seen her look so concerned.

Please, come home very soon, Papa!

That is all we wish for.

Promise us to please stay safe and think of us every once in a while.

Mary, Edith, and Sybil

[bella-caecilia]

Thanks for the prompt @whydidnttheyaskcora <3 I hope you enjoy what I made of it, dear <3

Here is the blue colour chapter with the symbols of trust, loyalty, and security. Post-canon. Cora receives her treatment, and Robert doesn't leave her side.

if you want to send another prompt, here is the prompt list: Colour symbol prompts

[levinson-mannion]

Cobert and 'Hug' for the writing challenge, please! Love ya <3

Cora stood in the library next to the desk. She held a letter close to her chest. Carson, the footman, delivered it to her and when he left the room she opened the letter from her mother.

Dear my darling daughter Cora,

I don’t know how to tell you this, I would of told you sooner if we’d known but it all happened so quick no letter would reach you soon enough,

Your papa passed earlier today

Cora read no further, she didn’t have it in her, she didn’t cry she didn’t move, she was barely breathing.

Crack. The door opened.

“Cora! Just the person I was looking for! I was wondering“ Robert stopped dead in his tracks, “Cora?”

Cora finally broke down as a sob left her throat before she could gain any composure on herself. She held the letter out as she covered her streaming eyes.

Robert quickly ran over and scanned the letter and he got no further then she did before he dropped it onto the desk and embraced her in a hug.

Cora broke down, loudly crying into the crook of his neck as he held her, whispering what little comfort he could offer her with his strong arms wrapped around her shaking frame.

[ohtobealady]

🧡 for Cobert please! :)

Hi sweets. I started this mobile-written Drabble a million years ago. Under the cut for mature content.

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

Her head hurt. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin away from her book to try to relieve herself of it, if only for a moment while she waited, but could not.

No. Today had been too much for the small, two glasses of wine she’d had at dinner to dissolve her irritation away. Instead, the tannins and alcohol worked together to swell her thoughts until they were pounding inside her with her pulse.

She took in a long deep breath and exhaled, trying to push out her headache with it. Again, to no avail. No, no. She’d wanted it to be a simple affair, their 34th anniversary, something intimate and quiet, just for the two of them … but it, like the headache, had bloomed out of control.

Cora brushed the corner of the pages in her grasp, not really reading the book anymore. Instead she listed, again, each little irritation that had eaten away at her expectations for this evening: Lady Anstruther—a woman Cora felt devoured the energy in every space she was in, leaving none for anyone else; Baxter—her confession doing nothing more than confusing Cora to no end, Barrow only complicating the confusion; and Robert—most of all Robert. The toast he’d given had been sweet, but Cora was no fool. Of course it had been his attempt at inspiring thoughts of marriage in the young Tony Gillingham.

Decidedly not reading any longer, she closed her book, and leaning, slid it onto her side table. She looked at her clock; it was half-midnight now, and Cora was tired. She nestled further into her bed, but left the lamp on—she wanted to wait for him, to … well it was their anniversary. If nothing else she’d like to wish him a good night, but where was he?

Again, her thoughts trickled downward pooling around darker places in her tired mind. She’d last seen him stomping away from her. What had she said? How was she to know Miss Bunting would rile him so? She didn’t approve of Miss Bunting’s words, but—

“I’m sorry I’ve taken so long.”

Cora startled. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, either, and she forced herself to sit up again in her bed to see him. “Oh, that’s alright.”

“I had another drink. I’ll just call Bates and be right in.”

Another, Cora’s thoughts echoed him, and she found herself tallying the number she’d seen him imbibe. “It may be very late for Bates.”

“He hasn’t gone, and I won’t be long,” he answered her as he went through, and when he closed the dividing door, Cora relaxed again against her pillow and sighed.

He didn’t appear particularly amourous, and for the briefest moment Cora wondered if she wouldn’t be better off just falling asleep to wait for one of his better moods. But then would it only upset him further? She didn’t want that. She had wanted today to be nice. She’d wanted today to be so much nicer, for him to be so much happier, than it was turning out to be.

In the dim light, she straightened her nightdress and pulled a little at her braid to smooth down the unruliness of some of her curls. Then she waited. As she waited, her thoughts grew shapes and colors, painting images of what Robert would see when he came in: a tired woman in a plain nightgown waiting submissively. She didn’t want that. She wanted him to know she … but he knew she still desired him, didn’t he? Cora pushed her thought away on her exhale.

Very well. She lifted herself. Something happy to end on.

She tiredly swung her legs from her warm blankets, February chill biting at her feet as she slipped them back inside her house shoes. She shuffled quickly to where she’d draped her dressing gown—the end of her chaise—and shivering once, put it on herself. She’d hurry.

She bent to see her reflection in the dressing table mirror, squinted, turned on her lamp, and looked again.

Oh, dear. She carefully tugged at the skin sagging there at her tired eyes, and pulled in a steadying breath. Oh no, no. She wasn’t the bright-eyed, nineteen-year-old woman who Robert had first lain with thirty-four years before. Cora touched the thinner skin at her neck and cheeks and shook uglier thoughts away. Neither is he the twenty-four-year old man, she reminded herself kindly.

She took her perfume, tapped the excess from the glass stick, and pressed it to behind her left ear and then right.

She stood, stepped back, and opened her dressing gown to see herself. She’d not thought to ask for a prettier nightgown, but of course that didn’t matter. Dipping again to the mirror, she bit color back into her lips, pinched very quickly at her cold cheeks, and padded back to bed. It was silly, of course; she was silly. But all the same.

She’d only just pulled her coverlet over her once more when, at last, Robert reentered.

Cora smiled at him, lifting her chin, and while he offered a small, quick smile in return, Cora noted his distraction. She noticed, too, how he switched off her dressing table lamp she’d forgotten she’d left on, and then tossed a glance up at her.

She smiled at him again. “Come to bed,” she attempted to say as alluringly as possible, in spite of the tired creaking of her voice.

Robert, though, only nodded. He disrobed, came to the bed, fell in heavily, and then nearly immediately rolled to her. “You aren’t too tired?”

She blinked. “Are you?”

But he didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead he dipped his head to her cheek and pressed quick kisses there before he propped himself up again and looked down at her.

“Your scent. Is it new?”

Cora parted her lips to speak and drew in a breath, her face warming. “No—“

“—oh.” But Robert’s face didn’t change. He still looked down at her, brows slightly furrowed. “It’s quite strong.”

“Is it?” The warmth Cora felt burned into embarrassment.

“Yes. I didn’t notice before.”

“Well I …” she paused when Robert lifted himself further up and away from her. “I dabbed a little more on just a moment ago. I can wash it if it bothers you.”

“But why would you put more on before bed?” His low laughter made the burning embarrassment feel like a fever—an anger— and Cora pushed out a forced chuckle.

“I don’t know,” she said quickly enough to hide whatever emotion was caught in her throat. “I thought it may be nice. I can wash it.”

Robert shook his head. “No, no.” He adjusted himself slightly, lower, pushing her to her back. Cora watched him as he closed his eyes and kissed her mouth. “Now then.”

And at his words, Cora felt his hand lift the silky hem of her nightdress, then felt as he clumsily pushed forward and touched her body. When his fingers met her skin, she saw his brow bob up.

“No underthings? It’s rather cold.”

Cora shook her head, moving her hips slightly, and forced another smile.

Robert only hummed, pressing harder against her. She swallowed, moved again, and then shook her head. “A bit …”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. Only … perhaps a bit gentler?”

He hummed again. “Apologies.” And then they were silent, the fire flickering and crackling as her husband touched at her most private places, places only he had ever touched her this way, places he’d touched her for thirty-four years, and yet … oh, were they both just too tired? Had the evening been that exhausting? The day?

She wanted to. Cora wanted to finish this day, their anniversary, the way she’d longed for it to be all along. The two of them. Happy.

She looked back up at her husband, his face nearly touching her own, his eyes looking down at her still-clothed body, then closing as he made his circles against her gender, his breath steady and even. There were lines gathering between his pinched brow.

At the first small hint of pleasure, there also came a rush of disappointment, but she refused to think why. She pushed her hand down between them, pushing past his pajama waistband to find him, and when she discovered him soft, she sighed and smiled at him. She touched him the way she knew to do, the way that he liked, the way she learned he’d liked over their decades together. But when minutes grew thicker and heavier and there was no change, she kissed his cheek.

“We don’t have to,” she whispered. “It’s been a long day.”

“Cora—“ He dipped his chin, looking down beneath the covers at where his arm bunched up her dress, where her arm still held him, and when he spoke next his voice was quieter. “Don’t make me feel ashamed.”

“Ashamed? Darling—“

“I want to.”

She pushed the stiff air from her chest, nodded, and thought of him thirty-four years before. She thought of their shared embarrassment then, the unsure brushes of fingertips and shared triumph they’d felt at accomplishing their task. She thought of how he’d whispered to her how he’d not wanted to hurt her—how it almost echoed what he’d said just moments ago, decades later—and how though so much time separated then and now, it was almost somehow the same.

Cora felt suddenly softer, and she pressed her nose to his, stroking him with her hand beneath his waistband. She pressed her lips to his, and nodded again. “So do I,” she whispered back, and met him in another kiss. Soft and tender and real.

“Mm,” his lips moved into a small smile of thanks against hers. He kissed her again, and Cora let herself begin to relax beneath him as he began to stiffen in her grasp.

She couldn’t help the breath of a laugh that whispered between them, and Robert shook his head. He smiled again.

It had begun performative, of course, to mark the day. It was nearly like the duty of so many times before, like the party that had grown into something Cora hadn’t liked at all. But now this was for them, and her husband was touching her, his fingers slowly finding entry, and she wanted it. She brought both her hands to his face, then, his neck, the curls at the back of his head, and she parted her lips against his.

“Oh, darling—“ he said into her mouth. “I—“

—a shout. On the gallery. But what …

Robert jerked his head away from her, and Cora looked at him as he turned his ear to the sound. What had —

“Fire!” the voice shouted again, closer, and Robert, his eyes wide, pushed himself up and away from her, her nightdress catching on his hand only a moment as he nearly leapt from her bed.

“Oh, God.”

Cora hardly had time to sit up by the time Robert had managed his housecoat. She hardly had time to register what word the voice had shouted. Fire? A fire?

Oh, my God. “Robert!” she gasped as he swung upon her doors, “the children! The nursery!”

“I’ll get them! Come!”

He ran from her room, his house coat fluttering behind him.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Drabble - Will he survive - Part two

Cora opened the door slowly; she was not sure if Robert would be awake. She needed to ask Carson to do something about the squeaking of the door. The curtains were open, and the sun brightened up her room. She had loved this room from the start and over the course of the years she had made it her own.

"Well, look who we have here." Robert said when he saw Cora coming in.

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"The same as about two hours ago." He said a bit grumpy.

"I thought so, that's why I brought cards with me. We could play a game."

Robert raised his eyebrows. "And you have time for that?"

Cora pulled the chair that was placed close to Robert’s bedside closer and sat down. "I make time for that. Now let us see what can we play? Bezique?"

Robert agreed, but not before he had asked her to pour him a new cup of tea. Carson had put some alcohol in his cup, and when he had smelled it, he put the cup down. He had asked Carson, and he admitted giving him the alcohol. He did not want to drink it; he promised Cora to stay off the liqueur for the coming months. He would be even more bored, than before his ulcer had burst, but he knew he had no other option left.

Cora glanced at him, three days ago he had come home after two days in the hospital. That first night had been one of the scariest of her life. At the same time, it had been a moment to cherish.

When Dr Clarkson had checked on Robert once he had woken up, she called the girls in. Dr. Clarkson had allowed them to go in together. The way Robert had reassured their girls that he would be alright had melted her heart. Mary and Edith had gone back to the house, but she stayed at the hospital. At first, Robert insisted on her getting into the room they prepared for her. But Cora argued that it did not make sense to be sleeping in a different room, that way she could as well sleep at Downton. She asked one of the nurses to put an extra bed in his room and with some reluctance they agreed.

She stayed both days with him. Baxter had tried to make her as representative as possible. She brought easy dresses for her, in which she would be comfortable. She was amazed at how Baxter made her look. As if she always dressed her in a hospital setting. She loved how she brought her night dresses that were a bit more covered then she usually used at home.

"A penny for you thoughts." Robert said.

Cora looked up at him and smiled. "The night you got admitted to the hospital went through my mind."

Robert reached for her hand. His mobility was still not much, but at least he could move again. The first two days had been horrible, pain-wise. "Let us not think about the scary things. I loved it when you, against all protocol got in my bed." He took her hand firmly in his.

Cora chuckled. "Which of the two moments do you mean?"

Now Robert chuckled too, he held his belly while he tried not to laugh. "I think you know. The one in the middle of the night, when you finally gave up trying to get to sleep in the bed they gave you. That you forced the nurses to put in my room"

"I did not force them.” Cora said innocently, she knew that she had insisted on that bed in the room. “It was so uncomfortable and knowing you were close but not being able to touch you was torture."

"The shocked sound the nurse made when she came in, in the morning was priceless." Robert was fully laughing.

Cora looked at him worried, laughing did hurt him, and that was visible. "We should better start playing that game, it will give you less discomfort." She hoped this would calm him down.

"Remembering that special moment with you also helps with feeling better." He smiled at her.

"Good."

They played and talked for quite a while until the door to her room was opened again, it was Edith.

"Mama, the nurse says that Papa's bandages need to be changed, but she was not sure she could enter."

This comment made Robert laugh again. "Oh my, we have made a reputation." He snickered.

Cora glanced at him, but her cheeks coloured slightly. Which made Robert know she knew what he meant.

"She can enter." Cora answered. "You want me to leave?" This was directed at Robert. Until now, Robert had refused having her in the room during the changing.

"I do not want you to be uncomfortable or scared or anything. It is not a pretty sight."

"She can tell me how it must be done. That way I can take over in the evening, which will give us a bit more privacy." She saw that this comment changed his view on it somewhat. She hated that Robert did not let her in the room, as if she needed protection after being splattered with his blood. Although she would not tell him how it made her feel that he did not want her in the room, she tried to gently come up with reasons to be in the room. "And you being covered in blood was also not a pretty sight, this cannot be worse."

"When you really insist, you can stay."

The nurse explained step by step what needed to be done, and they agreed that this afternoon Cora would do the changing, and the nurse would watch if she did everything that was needed. Robert had been right; the wound was still a real wound. She could see that it was healing, but very slowly. At the same time, she had no idea how long it would normally take for a wound like this to heal.

+++

"Are you sure you are up for it?" Robert asked, unsure when Cora unbuttoned his nightshirt.

"Are you up for it?" Cora teased. "It feels as if you have a harder time, excepting me changing your bandages than I have with doing it. Now please tell me when it hurts." She tried warming up her fingers. Her always freezing hands would not be nice on his warm skin. Still, when she touched him, he winched. "Are they still too cold? I am sorry, next time I will warm them in water before touching you."

"You would think I am used to your cold hands, since you try to warm them up with my body every night." He chuckled.

Cora bent down and kissed his lips. "I will never get used to this colder climate."

"Please never do, I love having you close to me at night."

"Now, here we go." Cora pulled gently at the bandage. She quickly cleaned his skin and put the ointment around the wound. Very softly, she brushed over his skin. She felt him tremble. "Does that hurt?"

"No, it is not that."

Cora stopped her movement and looked at him, she was not sure what he meant.

"It is the first time you are touching the wound and it is a weird sensation."

Cora did not move her fingers, but she was making sure her skin kept touching his. "I am surprised by how good it looks compared to this afternoon.

"I think it is pretty ugly, and it has ruined my body for you."

Cora put a clean bandage over the cleaned area and sat down on the matrass. She buttoned his nightshirt close, took his hand and rested it in her lap. "Nothing can ever ruin you for me."

Robert squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "You are only saying that to comfort me."

Making sure she was not putting weight on him, she leaned over him, placing her hand just above his shoulder against the headboard. Her other hand came to a rest against his cheek. "You covered me in your blood, do you think that a scar on your belly will put me off?"

Robert shrugged.

"You have seen my belly over and over and you are still fancying me." Cora brushed with her nose over his.

"What are you talking about?" Robert put his hand on her knee.

"I have stretchmarks and wrinkles, and you still look at me as if I am the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Because you are. Those marks are made by our three wonderful girls and….." he could not finish his sentence.

Cora saw how he hesitated when he said three and knew he referred to their baby boy who never got the chance. She felt a lump in her throat herself. "Sybil left the most marks." She said quietly.

"Oh, Cora." Robert's voice was a sob.

Cora shook her head, in an attempt to get rid of the tears. "But she left us with a beautiful granddaughter, darling Sybbie."

"She did. All our grandchildren are a blessing to have. Seeing you with our own little ones and now with the grandbabies is more than I could have ever wished for."

"Let us make sure you are healthy again; I want to spend so much more time together with you and our growing family." She pressed her lips against his and kissed him tenderly.

A knock on the door made her sit up straight. Baxter opened the door and stepped inside. "Do you need my help preparing for the night?"

Cora brushed over Robert’s cheek and got up. "I am sorry, I forgot about the time. Thank you for coming." Together with Baxter, she disappeared into Robert's dressing room. Since he came home, she changed there, it had been easier this way. He could go to sleep when he wanted to, and it would not be embarrassing for Baxter when she helped Cora undress. The staff knew about their relationship, but it was still quite common for couples in their class to sleep in different bedrooms.

[randomabiling]

NaNoWriMo Entry #1

Bewitch

October 31, 1890

Though the rooms and halls of Duneagle were as familiar to him as Downton, on this night the shadows unbalanced his senses, and he felt less certain of his footing. Lit only by the tumultuous fires in hearths and the candlesticks flickering in a hundred jack-o-lanterns scattered about in the rooms, the walls seemed to dance, alive with each turn of air. With a glass of punch cooling his hand, Robert entered the drawing room. He squinted into the hazy darkness, the guests near the fireplace illuminated and orange hued, while those in the farther corners were faceless silhouettes, only a glinting of jewels or the outline of satin truly visible. Sighing, he stepped further in, to where a group of bachelors were pairing apples, looking into mirrors to see the ghostly forms of their future wives appear. Robert shook his head, and passed through the press of people, costumed and draped in elaborate pantomime, living out their fantastical interpretations of Susan’s theme. 

The ruffle of his own sleeve, authentic and smart looking hours before as it flounced from the edge of his cuff, was stained with punch and wilting at his wrist. The brocade jacket, with its golden embroidery and many buttons had grown heavy and wearisome as the night wore on. Robert had consumed enough punch to be tired, and his desire to find Cora compounded his growing irritation. He’d always disliked a masquerade, wondering why people couldn’t just be themselves. But Cora had been so excited at the invitation, looking forward to her first British Halloween. 

He’d been unable to say no. 

In the library, Shrimpie was holding the attention of a large group, telling some ghoulish story that seemed to rely heavily on Bronte’s penned musings. If the listeners suspected the hero bore an eerie resemblance to Rochester, they hadn’t let on. Robert inspected each person’s face, their form, their costume, but none were Cora. It unsettled him that it took him a moment to pass from one party goer to another. It seemed he should know instinctually whether he was looking at his wife or not, even through the veil of darkness blanketing the entire castle.

Robert passed from the library into the music room, a lone pianist playing a doleful tune on the instrument. There were several card tables set up, with a crowd of five or six at each. Instead of playing canasta or spades, however, each table held a woman in robes inspecting an elaborate deck of cards. It took only a moment of scrutiny for Robert to see it was a tarot deck and he frowned. Were people really so silly?

As soon as the thought entered his head, he saw her at the far table. If he had been able to think clearer, he would have been pleased with himself, noticing he had known her instinctually as soon as his eyes took her in their vision. He was too taken by her presence to think such thoughts. She looked as fresh as when he’d gone to her bedroom door hours ago, ready to accompany her downstairs for the festivities. Robert stood and stared at her for a few minutes, waiting, and then finally her gaze darted up and around the room, stopping when her eyes met his. Even far away he could see the crinkle of her skin around her mouth and the uplifting of her lips. She spoke lowly to the others at the table before standing. 

The long blue cape that she wore swirled behind her, the fluidity of the velvet like a living thing. And the sight of her again in her dress, the way the white lace of her bodice quivered as she moved, the angles of her delicate curves, made him choke against the restraint of the jabot around his neck. Sometimes when he saw her, he was again taken aback by her beauty, as though seeing it for the first time. 

Cora’s smile widened as she came closer to him, and she stopped only when their noses were close enough to touch. Robert was mesmerized by the glint in her blue eyes, the shine that rivaled the diamond stars on her tiara. Between them, her hand grazed his chest before it settled back against the bone of her corset, covering the shelter of their secret. When he found his voice, it was high and unnatural.

“What were you doing over there?”

Cora’s eyebrows rose, a playful smirk making her features even more lovely. “Listening to my fortune.”

“Oh?” Robert took hold of her gloved hand and led her to the doorway. “Good I hope?”

“Hmm,” Cora’s throat vibrated with the sound. “I don’t believe in that stuff anyway, it’s just for fun.”

It was Robert’s turn to chuckle. “Is the American more sensible than the British when it comes to the supernatural?”

Cora stopped and Robert turned to her. She lifted herself up on her toes, her mouth just below his ear. “I make my own fortune. Shall I show you?”

Robert bit his lip hard. He squeezed her hand harder. “I think it most imperative that you do.”

[modernamericangirl]

If you're still taking requests, would you do "💀 Near-death experience", because, you know, I still need to process the events from the movie…. I love your drabbles!

Extremely belated fulfillment! An anonymous user also requested the same thing, so this is a double response.

It had been fourteen weeks—ninety-nine days—since his last letter. And the frayed pages had contained very little of substance: four lines comprising several comments on the intolerable African heat and a promise to write again very, very soon. But now very, very soon had turned to silence which was, as of late, now alarm. No one, not his parents, sister, or friends, had heard a whisper.

Each day was steeped in fear. The girls bickered, Violet and Patrick remained unchanged in their adherence to daily routine, and Cora, well, Cora floated through each moment with increasing alarm that her husband had met some horrible, unspeakable fate.

Though she refused to address the fear directly, it remained ever present—prickling at her throat each morning as she took her tea, buzzing about her ear while walking through the garden, and hammering against her chest each night as she stared up at the blank canopy above.

He will write, she began to promise herself in the stillness of the night. He will write. He must write because any alternative would mean certain demise for them all.