#Cressida please give my happiness back to me

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Sexual themes at the Granville studio. Nothing explicit.

Season one

Chapter Eleven - Ruse to ruse

♡♡♡

Colin had brought you here, so he saw to it that he saw you home, though Benedict was a little reluctant. He kind of wanted to do it himself, but there wasn't time to argue and dawdle.

Anthony and Benedict would see Daphne home, Colin would take you, and Simon would need to go home and prepare himself for his future with Daphne.

Colin was good at riding. He handled the horse with perfection. You were home before your mother was even properly awake. He helped you off the horse, and you thanked him quickly, going around the back of the house knowing the servants would be up already.

Colin rode away before he was seen.

You dodged some maids as you returned to your room and quickly dressed down to make it look like you had been in bed the entire time.

You were lucky to get back when you did. A mere ten or fifteen minutes passed before your maid came into the room to wake you. You stretched and rose from the bed, relying on your acting to fool the poor girl into believing you hadn't been awake since before dawn.

She seems none the wiser as she tells you breakfast will be ready shortly and that your mother was awake.

Once you're up and dressed, you can act naturally. Everything that happens now is just the course of things. Daphne and Simon shall marry, she'll become a duchess, and Violet can set her sights on her next daughter, Eloise.

You enter the dining hall and see your mother already there, starting her breakfast. You join her with a smile.

"Good morning, dear."

"Good morning."

She seems none the wiser as to what you had been doing earlier that morning. For that, you are thankful. You tuck into your breakfast and pretend nothing had happened.

You've barely eaten when the butler comes in and announces you have a guest. You glance up at your mother with confusion. However, she looks thrilled.

"A caller?"

You don't even get to answer before she's up and heading toward the door to see who it was. You stand, too. Your mother returns moments later being followed by Benedict.

You look at him in confusion this time.

"Mr. Bridgerton, how delighted we are for your visit," your mother coos.

"An innocent visit, I assure you," he replies.

Your mother looks at you and tilts her head in his direction.

"What brings you to our door?" You ask, looking at Benedict.

"I thought I'd share the news. Daphne is engaged to the duke. She told mother this morning." He speaks slightly strained. Of course you already knew this information.

"How wonderful!" Your mother cheers.

"Yes. Very. Is she happy?" You ask, playing along.

"I'm sure they both will be." You catch the change of tone in his voice.

Silence settles between you both.

"Don't mind me," your mother says, returning to her seat at the table.

You sigh softly and turn to Benedict. "I'll show you out."

Your mother calls your name and then says, "so soon?"

"I'm sure Mr. Bridgerton was just delivering the good news in person. After all, they are my friends, mother."

You didn't give her time to answer before leading him out of the dining room. Benedict followed you to the door.

"What are you doing here?" You ask.

"I had to make sure you got home alright," he says softly.

"Colin brought me home."

"I know..."

You sigh softly and look up at him. "How is your mother coping?"

"She is pleased Daphne is marrying the duke. However, it would seem that Cressida Cowper may have seen them in the garden that night." He explains.

"Oh dear..."

"I'm sure all will be well, but we must keep our wits about us for now."

"Then why did you come here?"

"I told you. To make sure you got home."

"Do you not trust your brother?" You ask.

"Of course I do," he replies quickly. "I just wanted to see you."

You smile and then chuckle. "You worry too much. You should go home and be there for Daphne. She will need all the support she can get right now."

He sighs softly and nods. Benedict does leave immediately. He just looks at you. You're unable to read the expression on his face as you stare back at him in confusion.

He soon snaps out of his daze and takes his leave. You watch him go.

When you return to the dining room, your mother looks at you. "Why did you show him out so soon?"

"Mother..."

"He could have come with good intentions."

"He just came to tell me of Daphne's news," you say, sitting down once again.

"He may want to court you."

"Mother, I can assure you that my future husband will not be a Bridgerton. That will never happen."

Your mother grumbles. "You never know."

You look down into your tea cup and see your reflection in the hot liquid. "No, mother. I do know."

♡♡♡

Daphne was to be married within the week, so you hear from her when you visit her family the day after the duel.

Violet was all a buzz with the news, truly believing her daughter was marrying for love, but everything you looked to the eldest Bridgerton daughter, you could only see the anxiety on her face.

Poor Violet would never know what really happened.

Eloise excused herself from all things wedding related, so you accompanied where you could. Daphne was grateful to have a hand to hold when her emotions became too much sometimes.

When she was fitted for her wedding dress, you held her hand. When her mother went through gloves and veils, you were stood there beside her, your arm hooked with hers. When they discussed nightdresses, you stood beside her and kept her company.

Daphne was glad you were there. She surely would have lost her patience had you not been.

When you returned to their home later that day only to find out from Anthony, the special license had been denied, Daphne reached for your hand again.

The conversation was cut short when Violet entered the room to greet Lady Danbury.

"Now, this is far too grim a mood for the celebration I was counting on," Lady Danbury said, looking at everyone. "What on earth is the matter?"

"Anthony?" Violet looks at her son.

"We have been denied our request for a special license," he tells them.

"What?"

"The archbishop did not see a need." The duke added.

"It is not the archbishop," Lady Danbury says. "It is the queen. Perhaps she has taken your rejection of her nephew to heart, or perhaps she is simply bored. Either way, it does not bode well for your daughter's social future, nor any of the Bridgertons for that matter."

You feel Daphne squeeze your hand.

"Surely we must be able to do something?" Violet asks.

"Give her what she wants. Attention. Appear before her yourselves and make a personal appeal. But she will not respond to begging, and she can sniff out even the faintest whiff of insincerity, so do not lay it on thick. Tell her you are in love, plain and simple and true."

Daphne and Simon look at each other. Daphne looks like she could cry.

"You can do that, can you not?" Lady Danbury asks them.

Daphne nods her head. Then Simon gives one firm nod also.

"Good. Now, where is the dinner I was promised?"

Violet chuckles and leads the way.

You let go of Daphne's hand and follow her mother. Anthony accompanies you, and the happy couple follow.

♡♡♡

Benedict returns to the studio of Mr. Granville. He has chosen to sit out dinner with his family, not knowing you were there.

Henry answers the door.

"Bridgerton! I am so glad you came."

"I dare not miss it," Benedict answered.

"Please, come in."

The two of them head inside.

"Make yourself at home. I would show you around, but host duty calls." Henry smiles and walks on ahead.

The studio is much more lively tonight. There are people everywhere. Benedict walks down the hall a little bit and peers into one of the open doorways. The room is full of pretty women dressed in as little possible dancing around. He keeps on walking and peers into another room. There are people sketching in this one.

"What are you doing here?"

Benedict turns around to find a woman looking at him.

"Apologies. Have we met?" He asks.

"We need not to have met," she says. "You are a Bridgerton, yes?"

Benedict, of course, would not recognise the seamstress.

"I see my reputation precedes me."

"Not exactly a virtue."

"Anything that gets me your attention is a good thing, I rather think."

"You should go, home to your brother, perhaps."

Benedict scoffs. "But I'm receiving far too warm a welcome here."

They later find themselves on the stairs enjoying each other. His lips on her neck and collarbone as his large, warm hands explore every curve of her body.

She takes his hand and leads him down the stairs and through the crowds. He hurries forward to find them a room, opening a door only to find Henry Granville and another gentleman enjoying each other up against the wall.

Henry's eyes land on Benedict as he stands there, watching them. Slowly, Benedict steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Bridgerton," Genevieve whispers.

She's sat with a young woman nearby. She uses her finger to gesture him over. He walks over immediately, sitting between them and kissing the young lady. He then turns and kisses Genevieve, too.

He enjoys his evening with the pair of them.

It was safe to say, this man had no intention of settling down any time soon.

♡♡♡

The dinner passes by rather quietly. There is a slight tension between Simon and Daphne. Violet and Lady Danbury carry most of the conversation, and you join in when possible.

The only other Bridgerton's at the table were Anthony and Eloise, though the latter made it clear she would rather be anywhere else.

You find yourself a little disappointed at the lack of Benedict. Anthony just told you his brother had gone out. He knew not where. You didn't bother digging if he didn't know.

"What about you? Are there any prospects this season for you?" Lady Danbury asks, gesturing to you with her wine glass.

You look uo and find yourself a little stunned at the question. "Oh, um. I had some callers. Though not many. Very few came back a second time." You look down at your dinner.

"Worry not. You're still young. Your time to shine will come," she winks at you.

Violet looks at Anthony, who furrows his brow at her. When she nods her head at you, he shakes his head with wide eyes. Violet gives him a firmer look.

You look up, and she quickly smiles at you.

Anthony sighs and turns his head toward you. He keeps his voice low. "Whatever my mother says, do not buy into it."

"Hm?" You look at him with confusion.

"Anthony," Violet calls. Both of you look up at her. "Why not keep her company tomorrow?"

"Mother..."

"It would surely make her happy." Violet smiles brightly.

"Lady Bridgerton, there is no need," you try and steer her away from setting her up with one of her sons.

"I'm sure he won't mind."

"You're busy, no?" You ask quickly, turning to the young Viscount. "You mentioned some ledgers or something."

Anthony nods quickly. "Yes. Exactly. Those ledgers."

Violet sinks in her seat a little. Disappointed in her son. She can't help thinking you'd make a wonderful daughter-in-law. You would suit the Bridgerton name quite well, she is certain.

When dinner is over, Simon is very quick to leave. He speaks very little to Daphne as he exits the house.

Anthony sees you out.

"Shame Benedict wasn't present," you say absentmindedly.

"You seem rather close to my brother."

"We are friends. Fret not." You smile at him.

"I have no idea where he wanders off to so late at night. Nor do I care to ask."

"What you men do in your free time is your own business," you say.

"What could you possibly know what men get up to?" He asks, looking at you.

You just give him a sly smile, one Anthony simultaneously hates and loves. You're a cheeky one.

"Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Goodnight."

He waits until you're in the carriage and then heads back inside his house. He walks starlight past his mother, who is gearing up to talk him into courting you, he is sure.

Violet watches him disappear upstairs.

♡♡♡

The next day, Daphne and Simon appear before the queen. You know not what is said in that room, but you are to gather later that Simon Basset made the most romantic speech known to man.

He declared his love Daphne in front of everyone in that room.

The queen gave them her blessing.

It worked.

♡♡♡

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@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @luckily123345 - @charmainemaclendon

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

[onlymexsarah]

Prince Friedrich | Jealousy

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: you are Daphne sister, younger than her just for one year. Both of you had debuted in society the same season. Since Prince Friedrich arrival the two of you had grown found to each other, finding him in the garden where you use to walk quite ofter. During the ball, after the Duke's and Daphne's break from their act, you see him believing at Daphne's flirt so you decide to have fun with a little revenge.

Warnings: my english, fluff.

Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!reader

A/N: it's not how I've imagined it in my head, but i hope you like it anyway :/ p.s. please tell me if you see any grammar mistake✨

*gif's mine*

PREQUEL - SEQUEL

You had agreed with your sister that you would enter in the room a dance after her, so both of you would have all the eyes for yourself. You were hiding behind the door at the start of the stars watching the room full of people. Cressida was speaking with Prince Friedrich, and it made you smile seeing that he was only being polite with her as his code obligated him. 

However you were shocked when you saw Daphne’s flirt towards him. She made her folding fan fall in front of the Prince, and he, following her plan as a puppy, knelt to take it as the gentleman he was. Your chest hurt when you saw them two dancing together and the Queen’s smile made you realized that didn’t matter how much in common you and the Prince shared, Daphne was the diamond of the season, he could not let such an occasion escape.

When it was your turn to enter, you looked toward Benedict and Colin seriously. “I want everyone enchanted by me, so don’t let me fall brothers.”

Both smiled sharing a silent conversation with their eyes. “Everyone or just a man with German accent?” joked Colin at your left crossing his arm with yours and the same did Benedict at your right.

“And with ‘his curly hair that seem to have trapped all the sun rays and made them a golden sea’. Was it accurate sister?” Benedict smiled slyly while Colin put his free hand in front of his mouth holding a laugh.

Your cheeks turned of a deep shade of pink, but luckily it could have been mistaken with the pink colour that your maid put on your cheeks. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Now we must enter before the next dance starts.”

The Bridgerton boys smiled amused while the door of the stairs opened and you three made your entrance. Your sweet smile never left your face during all the walking down the stairs. You could sense all the eyes on you, even the Queen was looking in your direction after that the Prince had stopped talking to Daphne to look at you. 

“Well done sister, there is no person in the room who is not staring at you.” Benedict whispered in your ear making your smiled grew bigger. 

“It seems that even in Prussia there is not such a beauty as yourself.” Colin whispered in the other ear. You let yourself looking around the room hiding that you were searching someone specific, and when you found him you saw that Colin was right. Prince Friedrich was looking at you with his mouth a little open ignoring Daphne who was right beside him trying to talk with him, but when she looked in the same direction of him, she stopped. 

She looked sorry at you, knowing your affection for the Prince, and you gave her a smile as nothing was happening hoping that Friedrich took it as a message that no one could hurt you.

Lord de Bethencourt, one of your best suitors, was the first to approach you and reclaim your first dance of that night. You danced twice together, he was a good-looking gentleman with who was easily make conversation due his kindness and charming. His French accent was the first thing that made you enchanted by him; he lived in Normandy with his family, but he came in London to find wife and you were the lucky one who had his eyes on. You were about to ask your brother to make a deal with him and let you marry, but since the Prince’s arrive everything changed. 

You started talking with him due your genuine curiosity about Prussia and their cultures. Just like Colin you wanted to see the word, indeed you had been with him in few travels already; most of them in the north of England or Nord Ireland, but you had read that Prussia was a beautiful place as well. It was strange saying that you found in the Prince a friend first, with who talks about literature and travels. But with time your walks at the park become something else starting to talk about the future and with some allusions from him to take you around the world. 

“You would love the sunrises in Normandy. They made the sea look like a flowered garden in the hot season.” Lord de Bethencourt said while he made you do a pirouette on yourself.

“I could stay and loose myself looking at them all days without getting tired, my Lord.” you smiled sweetly at him while you both bowed on the end of the music.

“And I will lose myself looking at your beauty, Lady Bridgerton.” he kissed your hand making you giggle shyly. You saw the Duke of Hastings, alias the man your sister was truly in love with, alone at the buffet with an annoyed look on his face. 

Thanking your gentleman you walked toward Simon with an idea in mind. “If you keep that look on your face you will have wrinkles before the next season, my dear friend.”

He looked down at you trying to hide a smirk. “Good evening to you too, Lady Bridgerton.” 

“Good evening, Duke Basset. I must tell you that I know about your little act with my sister, but if I didn’t know that it was your idea to stop it, I would say that you seem the most heartbroken between you two.” your smirk was huge behind the glass of wine looking at him with innocent eyes.

“Shouldn’t you dance with the Prince and try to become the Princess of Prussia?” he asked annoyed rolling his eyes but composing himself immediately after.

“We both are aware that the Prince of Prussia seems to have a weak at the ‘falling folding fan’ of a young lady, especially if the lady is the diamond of the season.” the Duke could hear that you were hurt in your voice even if your face was still with the same smile of before. He looked quickly around, smirking to himself when he saw that the Prince’s eyes were on you again.

Simon raised his hand in front of you waiting to you to take it. When you looked at him with an eyebrow raised, he just smiled kindly. “Nothing is better than a dance to raise your humour. After spending time with your family I’ve learned this very well.”

“Let see if you are a good dancer as you claim to be.” you took his hand happy. The time seemed to slow as you walked toward the centre of the ball room; everyone was now looking at you two and you could already see what Lady Whistledown will write about it. You both bowed and slowly started to dance without looking away from each other.

“Why did you let my sister going between the arms of another man?” you asked curiously while you kept your hands a few inches away from each other without touching as that dance wanted to be at the beginning. 

“You have surely a long tongue to be a woman, Miss Y/n.” he remarked ironically avoiding the question. He knew you were clever, and just as Lady Danbury you had understood everything even before him.

“We both know that you are my friend not for my education, but for my fantastic, good company. I am sure that if Daphne is looking at us, she is officially becoming the most heartbroken one between you two.” you said playfully.

“She must be so since the Prince has stopped to speak or dance with anyone to stay still and look at you.” you almost forgot to grab his hand when it was time to dance touching as usual due the black out of you mind for few seconds. “It curious seeing how a Prince manage his jealousy. Let see how far he can go without doing nothing.”

His smile made you feel invincible. You could made Prince Friedrich jealous and you would. With Simon at your side it was quite easy pretending that that dance meant something more than a distraction with a friend. “The Queen will never allow him to marry me, Lord Basset, and if you don’t take away my sister then I have no possibility.”

Most of the people in the room were still looking at the two of you. You were the second girl with who the Duke danced that season and knowing that the first was your sister it made the gossip bigger. Everyone was asking at themself if there was something between the two of you, and that made you smile more because if they were asking it then it was sure that the Prince was asking to himself the same. 

“Even thought, you seem quite happy, my Lady.” noticed Simon raising his eyebrows suspicious.

“I’m a Bridgerton, my Lord. Nothing can make my smile fall.” you changed partner for few moments giving you time to breath and searching with your eyes Prince Friedrich. He was with the Queen, both looking at you. 

Couples changed again and you found yourself with Simon like the beginning. “Why every time I talk with a Bridgerton, I found myself trapped in some complicate plan to attire the attention of other people? I shall expect that next season Miss Eloise ask me something similar.”

You laughed amused, thing that didn’t go unnoticed by the Prince who was asking himself what the Duke was whispering in your ear to make you laugh and smile. “I admit it was my plan since I saw you tonight, but you were the one asking me to dance, my Lord. I’ve never said nothing to you about it nor I made some type of suggestion.”

“You know how to manipulate a man with just some words. It a powerful gift, Lady Bridgerton, use it carefully.” he made you do a pirouette on yourself and then draw you back to him. “And I am sure that if burning people with the eyes was a gift too, I would be ashes right now.” 

“A gentleman shouldn’t say such things! I am sure you are mistaken.” you know you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hold your smile from growing bigger. 

The Duke just smiled amused and bowed to kiss your hand when the dance ended. Making sure that the eyes were in you, he raised his arm. “Would you join me and walk toward the buffet?” 

“It would be a pleasure, Your Grace.” taking his arm you looked Benedict whose eyes were already on you laughing. He had seen the change of look that the Duke and the Prince changed during the dance letting him understand Simon’s plan.

You and he made sure to seem really close, laughing and smiling at each other that even Daphne herself asked in her own mind if there was something. At some point of the night Lord de Bethencourt approached you and took you for another dance.

In your mind you tried to accept the fact that he was going to be your husband. Prince Friedrich would marry your sister, and after all Lord de Bethencourt was pleasant and good looking; you shouldn’t be so sad, you will learn how to love him with time. 

When the only change of couples of the dance arrived, you prayed that some of your brothers would be there to dance with you, the idea of dancing with a stranger right now didn’t tempt you enough.

Lord de Bethencourt let go your hands giving you one last smile before other hands took you. “Lady Bridgerton.” When you looked up, your breath stopped for few seconds. The hand he had on your back made you shiver, his closeness gave inside you a strange feeling, you wanted more. You knew, deep inside your mind, that you could be closer in some animal way, but you didn’t know where this knowledge came from. The only thing that was clear to you was that every time you were close to Friedrich your body answered strangely, and you had almost forgotten how it was.

“Your Grace.” you gave him a polite smile focusing on the right movement of your feet.

“I wished to be your first dance like the other times, but unfortunately Lord de Bethencourt have been faster.” your eyes were fixed together, neither of you couldn’t look away, didn’t matter what was happening around you.

“No need to worry at all, Prince Friedrich. I am sure that my sister, Daphne, had loved your though, indeed I had the lucky to see your dance. You had enchanted everyone, your Highness.” your sweet voice never changed even when the bitter comment about him and your sister came out.

He was taken back; he didn’t know you had seen the first dance of your sister, the dance that the Queen had obligated him to do. If it was for him, he would dance with you all night and stay in your company all day.

“Still, I wished to dance with you since you arrived. I must say you shall be tired my Lady; you have danced all night especially with Lord de Bethencourt. Is he a good partner? Not many ladies dance with him thought.” his little jealousy made you amused. Take it, Daphne. 

“He is a perfect dancer, Your Grace. We used our dances to talk, mostly. He told me about Normandy, where he lives, and the many place he thinks I will love. Did you ever see the Château Gaillard?” you asked innocently speaking as you would speak with a friend or your brothers.

“Yes, I did, I find myself saying that I expected more...I am sure that Schloss Sanssouci will take your heart as it took mine. It was my grandfather’s home during the hot season, Friedrich II. In the garden we have all the flowers you can dream about.” he said back trying to stay polite even if in his mind he had already challenge Lord de Bethencourt in duel twice.

“If you marry my sister, I’ll ask her to bring me to see the beauty of that place then.” saying that words hurt you more than you expected. Why your sister had to have everything? 

“My hopes are to take you there with me personally.” you looked him surprised with the mouth a bit open. You weren’t sure how you managed to keep dancing, but it was like your body was doing all by itself.

“I don’t think it will be appropriate, Your Grace.” the dance wanted you to separate for a few moments, and then he drew you back to him again.

“It will, if you will be my wife.” he said it without thinking letting you with a shocked expression on your face. “I am sorry, Miss Y/n. This wasn’t appropriate, I don’t know why I said it, but I can’t deny that it is what my heart wish.”

“We know that Queen Charlotte wants you to marry the diamond of the season...” your eyes fell on the ground while you two kept dancing. “The two of you can come and visit Normandy if it’s Your Grace’s wish.” 

The memory of Lord de Bethencourt made his jealousy coming back. “I found Paris more enjoyable, Miss Y/n. I shall take you there in the future.” he smirked at you making you giggled.

“I am sure you will, Your Grace.”

“Friedrich.” you looked him confused. “Please, call me Friedrich.”

The music ended, all the couple bowed to each other, but the Prince took you close to him without taking away his eyes from yours. “Everyone is staring at us, Friedrich.” you said noticing with the corner of your eyes that you were the only two remained on the dance floor.

“Forgive me, but I don’t want to let you go.” he had seen Lord de Bethencourt waiting for you and he just couldn’t let it happens.

“Then don’t.” you whispered back looking exclusively his eyes. In your mind the room got empty, there were only you two and you wished you could stay in his arms forever.

“Please, walk with me to your mother. There is something I can’t wait any longer to say.” he told you slowly letting you go and raising his arm waiting you to take it.

You offered a smile at the crow that had formed a circle around you. Your mother, Lady Violet, had tears in her eyes due the perfect match you and the Prince formed together. Even the Queen had noticed it, it was impossible looking somebody else if the two of you were dancing together or just talking to each other.

“Miss Bridgerton, I hope the ball is to your liking.” said the Prince once you stopped in front of her, Lady Danbury, and Benedict. “Lady Danbury, Lord Bridgerton. There is no need to bow, Miss Bridgerton. I am the one who need your permission today.”

You looked your brother confused, but with his eyes he pointed at the Prince’s arm that was still intertwined with yours making you blush. 

“My permission for what, Your Grace?” she asked with excitement in her voice. She already knew.

“You have to know that I wrote to my parents in these days, telling them about your daughter and the desire I have to marry her.” your breaths became heavier looking him first then your mother who didn’t seem as shocked as you in that moment. Was it really happening? “I’m waiting their answer, but if I know them as I believe I do then they will welcome my happiness as theirs.” 

“Your parents must be wonderful people as yourself, Your Grace.” she smiled sweetly at him giving a happy look at you who now were searching confirm of your thoughts in Lady Danbury’s face; she had smirked since she had seen you two approaching together.

“You flatter me, Lady Bridgerton. You will have the opportunity to meet them, they will be there for the end of the season.” if the Prince hadn’t put his hand on the one of yours that was on his arm, you would have ran away needing fresh air. “I need your permission, if you want of course, to let me court Lady Y/n as a true gentleman does and then, after I’ll have Lord Anthony Bridgerton’s permission, I will propose her to become my Princess.” your eyes got wet just as your mother’s. Your smile was huge; you felt yourself flying over the clouds while you couldn’t look away from him.

“If it is my daughter’s desire, then you have my permission.” Lady Violet said looking at you for your approval.

“It is my desire, Mama.” your eyes leave his profile just for few seconds to let you look at your mother.

“Of course, Lady Bridgerton, I assure you that I will not force Lady Y/n in any marriage. If she will find herself uncomfortable with me, then I will not insist nor I will feel grudge toward your family. I just wish to let her know that...” he turned his head to look at you with devoted eyes. “She is the owner of my heart, and I wish to have a chance to try and seduce hers.” You wanted to say that your heart was already his, but he spoke again, almost whispering to you. “Even if that means taking all the France and giving it to you.” 

[secretkeeper13]

Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC.  Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig!  Also on Ao3.  

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”  

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair.  He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.  

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.  

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.”  He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”  

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”  

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to  anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And  then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

[talkfastromance4]

3.) 11 Minutes--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: a sexy phone call, the use of ‘Daddy’ multiple times, sexy play with wine, hints of infidelity but NOT in the way you think I promise, uhh I think that’s it?

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

3 Years Ago

It’s been a year since Ashton and Cressida have seen each other at The Golden Lion. Ever since they returned from Europe three years ago they agreed to only see each other once a year on the anniversary of their first meeting and spend a long weekend together.

For a little over a year and a half, the forbidden couple have been publicly linked to other people. Ashton has been tied to Lucinda Clarke, her family are well known partners with Irwin Whisky and the partnership between Ashton and Lucinda would be beneficial to both parties. Lucinda is nice enough but she’s more silver than gold.

Cressida has been snapped with Gavin de Poiters, the heir to centuries old winemakers in Europe. They attend many dinners and club scenes together, making sure they’re the center of the paparazzi eye by order of their PR group. Cressida paints on the perfect smile but her mind and heart are always on Ashton.

Part of their deal is to not be in contact with each other until their weekend. Cressida has been going back and forth on cancelling this year because she feels guilty doing this to Gavin. Her mind was practically set on cancelling when a small package was sent to her office on Valentine’s Day.

It was a pretty bracelet with purple and pink jewels and her favorite shade of red lipstick and a note that read:

I hope to only see you in these two things on our weekend. My golden lady. A.I

Cressida hasn’t removed the bracelet since.

Cressida is listening to her schedule for the next coming weeks while doing her morning stretches when one of them makes her pause mid side lunge.

“Can you repeat that one for next weekend?” Cressida asks her assistant, Chloe.

“Yes, um, you and Gavin are scheduled for that three-day conference at The Golden Lion promoting all inclusivity within the workplace. He will only be able to attend the Friday evening session and is on a flight to Japan right after.”

Cressida’s heart pounds in her chest. She’s going to be with Gavin at her and Ashton’s hidden sanctuary, with Ashton present as well. Their time together isn’t for another two months. Will she be able to handle herself in front of Gavin?

For the rest of the week, Cressida has been anxiously anticipating seeing Ashton. She wonders if Lucinda will be there or on one of her many yachts partying. She’s distracted from her day-to-day tasks; her fingers itching to call Ashton and ask him what they should do.

On Friday night, Cressida is putting on the final touch of her outfit which is the red lipstick Ashton gifted her. She bought a gold sequined dress with a plunging neckline and an open back. The only thing holding it up were the thin straps on her shoulders, and due to the minimal material, she was braless as well. She wanted to show off for Ashton.

“You’re wearing that?” Gavin asks once she steps down the stairs. Chloe helps her into her black coat, handing her her gold clutch.

“Yes, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s a bit revealing, don’t you think?” his eyebrows raise in judgment.

“It’s in style now, Gavin. Let’s go.”

They’re about eleven minutes away from the hotel, Gavin’s tapping away at his phone while Cressida stares out the rain filled window, her mind wandering to a college bar and a handsome man when an unsaved number lights up on Cressida’s phone, it buzzes on her thigh. Thinking it could be someone from the company, she picks up.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

Cressida holds back her gasp at the sound of Ashton’s voice. The last time she heard it he was telling her goodbye in the doorway of their room before she went to the main desk. Her stomach clenches at the soft timber.

“I know you’re with him but I’m waiting for you. Can you put on a show for me tonight, darling? Say ‘yes Daddy’ if you understand.”

Cressida swallows harshly, her voice cracking when she responds with, “Yes Daddy.”

“Good girl. Are you wearing that lipstick I bought you? Say it again if you are.”

“Yes, Daddy, I am.”

“And the bracelet?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she says a little breathlessly. Gavin gives her an odd look and she smiles lightly waving her hand to dismiss it. He sighs and goes back to his phone.

“That’s a very good girl,” Ashton hums and she relishes the sound. “I made sure the staff know not to address you tonight, but your room is next to mine. Gavin’s leaving tonight, right? Tell me ‘yes, Daddy that’s right’ if it is.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Cressida clears her throat, “that’s right.”

“Mm, good. I can’t wait to see you, and hear you call me Daddy while I have you pinned beneath me.”

Cressida’s stunned for a beat at his words. Part of her worries Gavin can hear it’s not really her father she’s speaking to, but she’s safe with Ashton’s voice in her ear.

“That sounds…wonderful, Daddy.”

“Are you going to put on a show for me, angel?”

“You know I will, Daddy,” she promises, and he groans at her ease of the term. She smiles in victory and sees the large marquee of the hotel sign out her window. “I’ll see you soon, Daddy. Let’s grab lunch with Gavin soon.”

“Oh, you’re naughty—”

Cressida laughs and hangs up before he can finish his sentence. She hopes that sets him off a little.

“Your father wants to grab lunch?” Gavin asks while they wait for the valet attendees to grab their umbrellas and open the doors for them.

“And a show,” Cressida grins.

Gavin gets out first and opens the door for her making sure the umbrella covers her completely. She holds his arm like she’s supposed to and smiles at the few cameramen who are lining the walkway to the main doors. Ashton is almost within her reach, her stomach flips in excitement at being near him soon.

She and Gavin greet the people they’re supposed to but she’s also scanning the hall for signs of Ashton. She hopes Lucinda isn’t here. As they near the bar at the back she hears his voice, and it tickles her ears. Subconsciously, she squeezes Gavin’s arm in response to the raw smoothness of it as he speaks with someone about his business trip in Cabo. It reminds her of his whisky, it goes down smooth but leaves a raw ache in your mouth for more.

Cressida shivers at the thought of what else he does smoothly while going down.

“You should have worn something warmer,” Gavin reprimands but Cressida is the complete opposite.

“I’m fine. I just need a drink to warm me up,” she speaks loud enough so Ashton can hear her.

“My whisky will warm you right up, James,” Ashton calls sardonically.

Cressida looks over at him to see him smirking, his dimple making an appearance and it deepens as he eyes her up in her dress. He’s drinking her in. She’s happy to see Lucinda isn’t in attendance. For a flicker of a moment, she forgets that it’s not just the two of them in the safety of these walls and she quickly resets her face.

“In the pits of hell, maybe.”

He cocks his head in admiration, but he knows how fiery she is. He bets Gavin doesn’t know that about her.

“Your brandy holds that throne.”

“Its rightful place is a throne,” she rolls her neck in attitude, lips pouted to showcase the deep red color. “A throne made of gold.”

Ashton breathes in heavily at her sassiness, but it’s only apparent to him. Their onlookers are shifting eyes between the two nervously. Gavin is tapping his fingers impatiently on the bar top, he doesn’t want to be here. He’s voiced it to Cressida repeatedly but for appearances sake, they need to be seen together.

“There’s a whole room, Irwin, occupy some other space,” Gavin snaps.

“I intend to de Poiters, but that’s not until later in the privacy of my own room.” Ashton winks swiftly at Cressida and she feels her cheeks warm. His promise of pinning her swirls back in her mind. “I’ll be having your finest red, actually. Did you know it stains on skin? Even in the smallest of crevices hidden away.”

Cressida can only imagine what he means. She presses her thighs together.

“You disgust me, much like your whisky. It tastes of horses piss,” Gavin snorts.

“Drink that frequently, do you?”

Cressida bites her lip to keep her giggle at bay. Ashton’s current demeanor (and his phone call) are turning her on in the worst way. All she wants is to be stowed away in their room for the whole weekend instead of attending these sessions. She’s thankful Gavin is leaving right after this one.

“Fuck off,” Gavin shakes his head and grabs their drinks. “Let’s go Cress.”

Cressida makes sure to turn slowly so Ashton gets a good look of her in her dress. She feels his eyes burning into her back the whole way to their seats.

The first session seems to go on for an eternity, but her mind is occupied of fantasies with Ashton. Fantasies she hopes will come true tonight once Gavin leaves. Finally, the session is over and everyone in attendance are excused to their rooms or another hall where there’s coffee being served.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Gavin gives Cressida a half-assed kiss on her cheek before walking towards the main doors. He doesn’t look back, then a throat clearing behind her catches her attention.

“I believe we’re on the same floor, James,” his voice is flat, but she can see the fire in his eyes. People bustling by are in hearing distance, it’s still time to act.

“Great,” she rolls her eyes and bumps past him towards the elevators.

They wait patiently for the doors to open but she’s about to burst. She’s shaking her foot until the gold doors slide open and they enter it quickly. Cressida eyes up the camera in the corner while Ashton stares straight ahead at the guests until the doors close. Ashton and Cressida’s eyes meet in the reflection.

“You have no idea the restraint I’m using right now because of that camera,” Ashton tells her reflection.

“I’m sure you could pay to have it erased,” she grins then cocks her head up at him, “or to keep for your own.”

“You’re really asking for it, angel,” he shakes his head turning it back to the closed doors.

“I could beg, too you know,” she responds airily. “Would Daddy like that?”

“Fuck, Cressida,” he tuts, and she giggles.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open slowly. Cressida is the first to step out but then Ashton has her pinned against the opposite wall, his face invading her space. He hikes her leg high on his waist, his fingers teasing the back of her thigh.

“You in this dress is making me weak,” he mumbles.

“Really?” she hooks her heel around his leg pulling him closer to her where she feels his bulge. “Seems like it’s making you hard, Ash.”

“That’s not my name tonight, angel,” his lips ghost over hers and he lifts her other leg to wrap around his waist. He presses himself against her harshly, her back pushes into the wall with force. “What do you call me?”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

He smiles then pulls off the wall holding her securely until he unlocks their room. Once inside, he sets her on the floor and opens the fridge.

“Strip for me and wait in the room with the tub,” he points.

“Can I have a kiss first?” she pouts, and he laughs.

“You aren’t in control tonight, angel,” he pokes her nose, “no matter how hard you try. Go.”

“But—”

“I said go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

They have a mini stare off until she finally obeys and moves into the room. The dress is easy to get out of, she just slips it off and lays on the bed watching Ashton whistle while he opens a wine bottle. He’s taking his sweet time and her fingers start to wander and her eyes close imagining it’s Ashton’s fingers.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Cressida’s eyes flash open and he’s holding Gavin’s red wine in his hand, his gaze on her hand between her legs.

“Wanted to be ready for you,” she teases her finger inside and Ashton’s gaze is on every movement. “You said you wanted a show.”

“You’re so naughty,” he shakes his head setting the bottle down. “Good thing I brought this.”

He pulls out two gold restraints, she can tell it’s silked the way it glides over his fingers. She stares at him in awe as he moves on top of her. He snatches her wrist roughly bringing it above her head to the wooden post in the center. She watches him bind her wrist and loop it around the wood. He forces her other hand above her head and does the same, tying it tightly.

“Pull,” he commands staring down at her. She pulls her wrists down and feels the restraint. It excites her. “Good. Now, you’re going to watch me enjoy your boyfriend’s wine.”

He reaches for the bottle and scoots down her body. Ashton pours the deep red wine down her chest. The chill of it trickles over her breasts and down her stomach into her navel. Ashton ducks down and slurps up as much as he can, but she feels it slip onto the bed on either side of her. When his tongue swirls in her bellybutton, she squirms.

“Mm tastes better on you,” he smiles and tips the bottle over her breast. He closes his mouth on her nipple, sucking the red juice off until there’s teeth marks in her skin.

Cressida’s finding it hard to breathe watching Ashton. Feeling his mouth on her. He’s drinking the wine, but she’s drunk on his antics.

“How do you think Gavin would feel knowing I’m enjoying his wine smothered all over you?” he taunts and pours more on her belly.

It gushes off the sides, but Ashton situates himself between her legs and slurps up as much as he can then quickly shifts to her pussy, his mouth opening to her sweetness. Cressida lets out an appreciative moan as Ashton eats her out energetically. She’s desperate to put her hands in his hair but the restraints remind her she can’t. She’s going to have marks, but she doesn’t care. Ashton moans then slips in a finger.

He edges her like this until the bottle is nearly empty. She’s wet and sticky—from the wine and her own body—and Ashton presses the bottle to her mouth.

“Drink the rest, so next time you drink his wine with him, you’ll think of me.”

He tips it back and she drinks the rest of the wine, it dribbles down her chin, staining her already red lips. Ashton tosses the bottle to the carpet and crushes his mouth to hers. Cressida cries out in joy, grinding her hips against his silently begging for release.

“You put on a good show,” he sighs, “ready for the grand finale?”

“Give it to me, Daddy.”

In flashes Ashton’s clothes are removed. He presses into her easily, hips driving into her like a pendulum. Their bodies staining from the wine. Cressida cries out from intense pleasure. The bindings. The wine. Ashton’s cock driving in and out of her. Her denied orgasms roll into one large one that she can’t even cry out his name. Ashton stains her belly again and they try to catch their breath.

“Now that was a show,” she huffs and nudges the top of his head with her nose. He lifts his head, his lips and chin stained red.

“You played well,” he smirks kissing her.

“Can you untie me? I want to touch you,” she whines yanking on the restraints for effect.

Ashton grunts in response connecting his lips to hers once more and lifts his arm up. In one quick movement, the restraints are loose, and her arms fall heavily onto the bed. She moans at the release but can’t lift her arms quite yet.

“It’ll take a few moments for the blood to rush back,” Ashton informs her. He sits up rubbing his thumbs over the red markings on her wrists. “Are you in pain?” he asks, eyes soft and full of concern.

“No,” she smiles. “A little worn out, yeah, but I’m never in pain when I’m with you, Ash.”

When the blood is flowing in her arms again, she’s starting to feel the tightness in them while she lays on top of Ashton in the bath. The water swirls red from the wine. His middle finger runs up and down her spine and her body feels like jelly. It’s a welcomed heaviness of bliss and satisfaction. When her head has come down from the clouds, she wonders something.

“Are we cheating on them, Ash?” she asks quietly. His finger pauses in the middle of her back and he sighs heavily.

“It’s not cheating when it’s not real.”

She lifts her head and gives him a sad look. “We aren’t real?”

Ashton cups her cheeks in his large hands.

“No, you and I are very real, Cressida. I have no feelings for Lucinda, she knows this is all publicity. She’d rather be a bachelorette forever. She’s silver and you’re gold. I love you and only you.”

That’s the first time he’s ever told her that. She assumed love was off the table for them, but she’s loved him since that first night they met in the bar.

“I love you, too,” she smiles, surprised at the tears filling her eyes from the overwhelming emotion.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin​ @myloverboyash​ @loveroflrh​ @cxddlyash​ @princesslrh​ @spicylftv​ @notinthesameguey​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @calumance​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @thatscooibaby​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​ @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​ @mystic-232

[lqtraintracks]

May we have a snippet of 'Truth-Telling,' please? ❤️

Hey! Yes! This might actually help me get going on it again, as I picked this scene at semi-random and really enjoyed rereading it myself. Thanks so much for the Ask! *** He’s on his way through the gates when a familiar deep voice stops him in his tracks. “Harry Potter,” says Firenze, and Harry turns, a bright laugh of pleasure leaving him at the sight of his friend. He almost forgets himself, taking a step toward him, but then he comes to a halt, clearing his throat, and as is customary, bows. Firenze bows in return, after which Harry approaches with ease, extending his hand and having it held momentarily (not quite shaken) in greeting. “How are you?” Harry asks. “Harry Potter, we have conversed within the last six months. There is no need for such interrogation.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Humour me. I’m just a wizard. How’s Bane?” His fawn-coloured flanks glow nearly auburn at the question, and Harry perceives this—he thinks correctly—as a blush. “Bane is…” Firenze seems to struggle for an adjective. “He is a worthy husband.” Harry stifles his amusement at the description. He remembers their marriage five years ago, having been their only human witness at the event, and the bizarre set of rituals they’d patiently undergone to be wed. It’s still a wonder to him, how slowly and purposefully centaurs engage with their world when he himself is so often reckless. He may never know why they even wanted him at the Joining, as they called it. They promised to tell him in due time, but due time for a centaur could very well mean decades, if not longer. “And how are Cressida and Finn?” Firenze’s sigh is a burst of hot air, like that from a horse. “Why must I describe them to you when you have met them both?” Harry can’t help his smile then. “I don’t know, I guess humans are just curious creatures. You’re my friend, Firenze. It means I want to know about your life, your husband, your lovers…” “Hmm.” Firenze looks suspicious, his hooves scraping the ground with impatience. But he grants Harry a begrudging reply. “Cressida is away with the other females in the Deep Indigo. Her days are spent in archery competition and her nights in either prophecy or vigourous love-making—” “Okay!” says Harry brightly, as it’s more than he bargained for, and he feels himself blushing now. “You inquired,” Firenze says with a perplexed frown. “Yes, and I’m glad she’s… well. Do you not… become jealous? Of the, uh, ‘vigourous love-making’?” Harry can’t help but ask. “Jealousy is transient.” Not followed by any explanation, Firenze clearly considers this answer sufficient. “Fair enough,” says Harry. “And Finn?” At this, Firenze gives an uncharacteristic little half-grin. “Finn warms my bed properly when Bane is away. And often when Bane is not away.” If Firenze were human, this would probably be akin to sharing an ale and a nudge with his elbow in Harry’s side. “I’m glad you’re happy,” Harry says. “Happiness is a cloud passing over the arc of the sky. Nothing is permanent.” “Yes, well, that,” says Harry. “I am pleased you will be joining me in the Autumn on the Hogwarts staff,” says Firenze. “Word travels fast.” “It was foreseen.” Harry opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it again. He’s not often sought Firenze’s professional advice. Didn’t when he decided to leave the Aurors. Maybe because he didn’t want to know if it was the wrong decision; he just wanted to make it regardless. But now… “You wish counsel,” Firenze says. “Not really, I just…” Harry looks back at the castle and sighs. He’s had enough of prophecy for two lifetimes, but... “I guess I only want to know one thing.” Firenze bows his head once, waiting. Harry swallows. “Will there be… danger?” Firenze breathes in deeply and shuts his eyes. It’s long moments before he opens them again, and it takes a strong hold on Harry’s will not interrupt the process or elaborate on his own question. It’s not that he’s afraid. He doesn’t really become afraid anymore. It’s more that he’s… tired. And he doesn’t want more of the same thing his life and his own choices have thrown at him time and again. There’s an odd look in Firenze’s eyes. “What?” Harry asks. “Will there be? Danger?” Firenze’s long, pale lashes blink. “My friend,” he says. “Not the kind you’re used to.”

[blonde-toddy]

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 4

Oh they're at court.

Also she's not a commoner. She's the daughter of a Viscount.

Another Daphne brag moment, but homegirl really got the juice. She's bagging mfs over hand holding and dancing.

Violet dgaf. She's hungry now, damn it!

Oh he's buying jewelry already.

Ooooooh the way she imagines the Duke behind her. Honey yes. That scene was hot.

Too bad she came back to reality.

Hyacinth is my spirit animal.

Lady Whistledown ain't ready to write Simon off yet. She's waiting on the Dukes Hail Mary.

Shit. So am I.

I have never seen someone look so depressed in such an exquisite piece of jewelry. It's like the necklace chokes her. Testament to the acting and script for that though. It truly represents a trap.

Awww Simon is wearing that heavy bag out. I would say poor Simon, but he made this damn bed.

I love Alice and Will. They are the kind of wholesome love I need to keep my heart steady watching this damn show. She's his rider and I love it.

Alice roasting Simon over Daphne. Get. Yo. Girl. Mane.

I always cringe when a man tells a woman to smile.

Poor Marina. Portia is determined to find her the oldest mf. She's playing smart though.

Those damn dingbat sisters.

Maybe Penelope does care.

Well at least the least mean sister got a caller. They're awkward/cute.

Eloise girl, I love feathers in hair. Your one dimensional preaching is wearing me out again.

A boxing match date? I'd be down.

The prince legit seems like a nice guy. And Daphne is trying....but she's CLEARLY hung up on Simon.

Oh look Simon's losing focus on his friend because he's too focused on Daphne and the prince.

Ok mf! Take that shit off and roll them sleeves up. It turns me on too sis!

Oh look at the sweet family talk with the prince. Girl he'd give you any and everything you wanted.

But you and the Duke are just ATE TF UP about each other!

Mondrich for the win!!!!

Oh Benny. You've got a new friend. But what kind of friend? Give me more of this.

Well Anthony is smug and pleased as punch. Simons courtship of Daphne has ended. She has her perfect suitor. And Simon is leaving England to go rake and fuckboy about.

Though Simons hard slammed shot when the prince approached says he's anything but happy.

Violet always worries about the wrong shit.

Hyacinth always wants to know the good shit.

Be Hyacinth.

Oh fuck the prince is ready to propose. That shit escalated quickly.

SIMON!!!!!! Now would be a good time for that Hail Mary.

Good job Anthony. Way to realize that the women in your life have agency over THEMSELVES.

Violet always beating around the damn bush.....but she is still 100% #teamduke

Aw Daphne you're gonna break down snitching on yourself.

If it wasn't real with Simon you wouldn't be so ate up about it, and you would be rocking tf out of that necklace from the prince instead of crying.

There's a reason for the black in her outfit. For Daphne, who is normally all pastel blues, that black is her mourning. It's her 'attempting' to put to death her feelings for the Duke. And also I think mourning the loss if the bond they shared. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But this seems like a very deliberate show with it's details.

Danbury ripping Simon open before she sends him off. Big energy.

She knows everything you thick headed mf. Why won't you just listen?! You letting your rank ass daddy live rent free in your soul.

He's so jaded it hurts.

Ayyyye this Trowbridge party looks like the real deal.

Oh gawd. Marina and the old man.

Mr. Finch and the cheese frock. Jesus who wrote this. I love it

Cressida you have been Daphnes biggest hater all season and now you're mad that she's with the prince. He was never gonna marry yo basket headed ass anyway.

Oooooh shit Simon sees the 'intimate painting' and has 2nd thoughts.

Go. Get. Yo. Girl.......Bitch.

Ooooh Benny's at the new homies spot and it's lit!

Naked models, easels, mingling between the classes. Yes indeed.

2nd sons having fun. Hell yes.

Damn Even Sienna at the ball...as a performer of course.

And Anthony looking tongue tied.

Violet....you need to chill. There take another sip.

Portia trying to shade Lady Trowbridges style is comical. Both of y'all bitches gaudy as hell.

Oh shit Phillipa lost her man.

Wtf is wrong with Lord Featherington?

And wtf are you doing Eloise?

Ayyye she just let her have it. You think servants have the time to be Lady Whistledown? I'm dead.

"Get out."

Ok Penelope with your saucy ass.

Well fuck! You just pushed him right to Marina. You played yourself boo.

Oooh the prince is about to shoot the big shot and Daphne keeps running away.

She done spotted Simon. Its over.

Fuck off Cressida.

Rip that mf necklace off girl.

Simon followed her ass outside.

"Miss Bridgerton." Motherfucker, call her Daphne.

"I came to say goodbye." Man. Go to hell.

Daphne serving those barbs. You not ready to keep playing with her.

Damn, Simon. If you're not gonna give her what she wants, get out the way.

Tell his ass sis.....even if you don't believe it yourself.

Really Simon? You stand there quiet as a mf church mouse whiles she's pleading with you to say something.....then you take off after her once she walks away from your shit

I swear.....men.....yall mfs really do shit like this. Speak up! Or...LET. ME. GO.

She's really cracking on his ass and I'm here for it....but wtf us up with his "I forbid you." Who tf are you to me? I'm glad she ain't playing with his ass.

Ooooh he called her Daphne and grabbed her.

Oh honey this is what fulfillment feels like, isn't it?

He's definitely fulFILLing her all the way up!

Oh shit Anthony caught them.

At least he finally landed some decent blows on Simon.

This RAKE ass mf still won't marry her.

Oh Simon.....for once.....Anthony is in the right and you the wrong. You are really about to die over your fucking daddy issues. Boy bye. Again.

Poor Daphne.

Wait, how did Cressida know she was in the garden?

That can't be good.

At least Benny is having a good time.

Dearest Portia, when you go looking for shit, it usually falls in your lap.

Marina keeps carrying on about Colin and Penelope is crushed.....or scheming....or both.

Aww Penelope let her hurt feelings cause a fight with her bestie. Her jealousy is seething.

Daphne still out here having to educate Anthony....though I get the need for the duel. And he still thinks he's running something.

Ooooh this is why they brought up 2nd sons.....Anthony is prepping Benny to take over. Well Benny, at least you had one good night out.

Colin caring for drunk Violet is parenting goals one day.

Oh great, now yall wanna bring Colin into the shit.

Simon raiding Wills spot for booze was so uneccesarily loud.

So Berbrooke alludes to her dishonor and Simon caves his fucking head in. Simon legit dishonors her and he's just like ,"Kay, guess I'll go get shot now." Someone get this man some therapy.

Oh great Anthony is back at Siennas door with more of his bullshit. Girl. Close that door.

No, not after you've let him in and climbed his torso. I guess y'all fuckin again.

He lost all the money and now he's fucked up.

Her face while he cried, is literally the face of every woman sick of a mediocre man's shit.

Oooh now they're all riding off into battle like the fucking idiots they are.

Colin is so pure.

I knew that Cressida shit would come back.

Well at least Anthony was willing to care for Sienna in his death....but damn mf, treat me right while WE'RE here.

Oh the dramatics of drawing a gun.

Nobody is here for Simon's weak ass apologies and I'm okay with that.

Hurry hurry Daphne.

Daphne down....but she's alright.

Call them idiots just like they are.

Simon still being a hoe about this shit. You really about let her be ostracized because you're a fuck boy.

Ultimate fuck boy line...I can't be with you because I love you too much. Fucking hell.

They do obviously love each other though.

Hold up.......you CAN NEVER, or WILL NEVER give her children. Don't play this like you have a reproductive issue.

So your reason for not marrying her is that you "can never" give her children and you know that's what her heart desires.

You playing with fire, Simon.

I wonder how much shit I let slide with his character just because he's portrayed so well by the phenomenal Regé-Jean Page.

No, I do love Simon's damaged ass. He just makes me so mad.

So the duel resumes......or not.

Daphne said, "Fuck them kids, give me my husband." Or something like that.

Well. This us an uncomfortable arrangement even though both of these idiots are in love.

Simon's evasion will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass.

But I'll be here with my popcorn and tissue, rooting for these cool kids to make it!

[neocity-sarai]

PANEM

✷reader x minho (peeta), reader x chan (gale)

✷hunger games au! based on the scene in mockingjay part 2 (the film), novel by Suzanne Collins

✷alerts: kissing, violence, injuries, murder/ mentions of torture, weapons, flashbacks, this was supposed to be a timestamp but I got carried away..

Panem is your home. Your world even. But when you go to bed at night, you always resist the reasons why you exist in it. You feel as if you don’t deserve to sleep, deserve to be comfortable. Your memories of sneaking past the gate with Chan, bows and arrows in your hands almost seems like a distant memory. When you entered the 74th hunger games, you and minho had gotten picked on the first go. You were thankful that you could rely on Chan, your childhood friend to protect the rest of your family from peacekeepers. Coming back from the games made you distaste the idea of being happy. You killed innocent children and teenagers so you could survive. It haunts you at night. 

Sometimes, your memories and your nightmares blur together. You have to remember the little details to keep them in the back of your mind or they’ll become things that will consume your soul. Images of dead bodies, crimson stained on your hands, the sound of people’s screams- they’ve become too familiar. It’s not a good thing that you just accept it now. 

Even if you refuse it, people will kill people for what they want. Humans can be selfish and can be cruel as long as they obtain their desires. When did everything turn wrong? The games? The war? The capital? Maybe this was inevitable- bound to happen by human nature through greed for power. The one person that is responsible is President Snow. After you, Minho, and the others got airlifted out of the 75th hunger games, they took Minho from you. They took Minho and the other tributes and made them into monsters. They knew that you loved Minho and he loved you. Snow made him into the capital’s mutt sent to kill you. Through fear conditioning and tracker-jacker venom, they turned him into a flesh weapon by manipulating his memories to hate you and the resistance. He was human but he wasn’t himself, not when he reacted so violently to your simple presence. He wasn’t your Minho anymore. 

Now, you were here. You, Chan, Minho, and the rest of your troop rested in a random lobby before setting off to advance towards the front lines. You all were ordered by Alma Coin to make propaganda for the rebellion for the purpose of rallying the districts. Instead, you had other plans in mind. You were bloodthirsty for what the capital had done to you and the people you loved, erasing their true selves. You were going to kill Snow and no one was going to stop you from doing so. The only person you told your plan was to Chan because he caught you stashing extra gear in your sack. He always had a knack for catching on quickly, plans cooking in your mind. 

<nightwatch>

Commander Boggs walks over, motioning to you and Chan, “y/n and Chan, you’re first on nightwatch.”

“Yes sir.”

Chan sits on the dirt outside of the building where you and your unit are resting, patting the spot next to him while he rests his gun on his chest, “You’re not sly, you know? I caught you stashing more arrows earlier today.”

You lean your back on the wall of the building, “Yeah, well, you always caught me when we were kids.”

Chan runs a hand through his obsidian hair, a smirk gracing his pink lips, “So, what’s the plan?”

You roll your eyes at him, taking off your bow due to how uncomfortable it was on your back. “The plan is that you’re staying here. I’m heading towards Snow’s mansion. I’m not losing you too.”

Chan shakes his head lightly, “I can’t do that. I swore to your mom I’d protect you- it’s a suicide mission. Even so, you don’t have the holo that tells you where Snow’s traps are. You wouldn’t get far.”

You stare at him irritated, “I can figure something out Chan. Maybe I can go on top of the buildings.”

“How? There are pods there too.”

Your hand curls into a fist as you hit the ground, “I can’t keep waiting. As long as Snow is alive, he’ll keep destroying everything good and no one will be safe in the end!”

Suddenly, Chan pulls you immediately close to him, his gloved hands on your arms. He grips you tight but not too tight to where it hurts you. He’s always been gentle that way. Your face is just centimetres away from his. You memorize the features you’ve known all your life, his hair slightly ruffled from running his fingers through it. The scars and knicks in his face from fighting and the way his sharp features are illuminated under the moon makes your heart beat even quicker. He flicks his dark, pointed eyes to your lips, eyeing them hungrily in anticipation.

“Chan?”

Without any warning, Chan crashes his lips onto yours, molding them together in desperate fervor. His eyes are screwed shut, savoring every bit of taste of salt and sweetness he tastes on you. His lips are a bit drier but still warm and soft, your hand pressed smoothly to the curve of his cheek. His nose bumps against yours like he’s been waiting his whole life to kiss you, his hands on the side of your face. It ends as soon as it starts when Chan pulls away from you. He looks sad, somber even, “Do you love me?”

You squeeze the bicep of his muscular arm, “You know how I feel about you. I told you back in 12.”

Chan snaps his head up at you, “But you love Minho more. You can never let go of him no matter how much the capitol has turned him against you. Right?”

You sit there silently. Your brows are furrowed, your lips parted. You’re never sure of what to say when Chan tells you how much he loves you. You love him, but you’ve grown to love Minho too. No words escape past your swollen lips, ghosted by Chan's kiss.

“That’s what I thought. I never stand a chance against him.”

“Chan- wait-”

Chan ignores you, picking up his gun when he stands, “It’s okay y/n. I’m okay.”

Walking away, you can’t bring yourself to follow after him. No matter how many times you deny it, he’s right. You can’t kill Minho. You can’t forget him. Even if he’s the one who wants to take your life at the hands of Snow, you can’t do it.

When morning comes, you and your unit set out to move forward. You walk through the abandoned closely, Commander Boggs wary of any pods and traps set by the Capitol. You all manage to make it a courtyard that’s surrounded by capitol apartment buildings- once filled my poshy, elite citizens. 

“Wait. There’s a pod here. Split right and left.”

You all follow Boggs’s instructions, half of your group hiding behind one pillar and the other half on the other side. 

You yell, “Take cover!”

You shoot one single arrow through it, it triggers machine guns to grow out of the walls and obliterate the entire pathway if anyone were to be standing there. Your fellow soldiers flinch from the gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the ground and off the buildings. When you turn to look in front of you,  you see Minho muttering inconsistent words to himself- his eyes hysterical from the fear conditioning. He bangs his temple against the butt of his gun from the lack of control he has on his thoughts. It makes you feel guilty, the fact that Minho was taken by the capitol while you were rescued. You wish it were the other way around. But it isn’t.

“All clear!”

You all rise, eyes still on the pod in case of any more sudden movements. You never know with Snow, you can’t ever be too careful. Walking through the archway, Boggs is the first to go up in the air, an explosion shooting up from past the archway.

Cressida, one of your fellow soldiers makes her way to Boggs, “Hold on!”

You follow her too, your grip on your bow tightening, “Boggs? Hey!”

He stares up at you wide-eyed, out of breath as he tries to bite through the pain of his legs being blown off by the pod. He shoves the holo into your hands, “Transfer security clearance to y/n.”

“Wait-what are you-?”

“Take it. Head towards capital headquarters- do what you need to do.”

You hesitantly take the holo from him, Cressida kneeling next to you, her shoulders slumped, “Boggs is gone.”

Before you can lift your commander’s dead body, you hear the sound of gears grinding as two entrances behind you and in front of you enclose your troop within the plaza. You shove the holo into your bag, placing an arrow on the string of your bow. 

Chan screams, “Everyone, get out! There’s more traps!”

From one end of the courtyard, black tar flows out in tsunami-like waves- the black liquid clashing as high as some of the buildings that surround the square. You make a break for it, your heart beating fast from the running. Cressida and Pollux, two of your fellow soldiers fire into the doorway of the building in front of them as they usher everyone up the stairs. Before you can catch up, you feel a figure toss you to the ground- grunting as they try to shove you into the obsidian tar. When you register who it is, you almost want to deny that it’s Minho who is trying to kill you. In a flash, Chan tackles him off of you, holding him back with the strength of his arms. You scream, “Hurry the fuck up! Please!”

Miraculously, Chan still keeps his stronghold on Minho, dragging him towards the rest of the group as the tar gets dangerously close to your feet. Cressida’s shoving the three of you on, “Hurry! Go!”

 When the four of you dash up the stairs, the black liquid starts to flood the entire bottom floor as it starts to rise higher and higher and you’re almost certain that it will drown you all. Leaping towards the next flight of stairs, you realize that half of it is broken off- no one is able to pass through. Your whole unit backs up against the wall in hopes that the tar stops rising. Somehow, in time, it does. Still, you don’t feel relieved. 

Commander Briggs, a stern woman and in second in command to Boggs narrows her eyes at you, “Y/n, give me the holo.”

You pull it out of your sack, “Boggs transferred security clearance to me.”

Briggs pulls her gun on you, cocking the device, “I’m not asking twice.”

Chan steps in front of you, “Peacekeepers will be here any minute. If they didn’t know our location, they do now. Y/n is  not the enemy.”

Cressida adds, “I saw it, Boggs gave her the authority.”

You press your fingers to Chan’s crossbow to get him to lower it, “I’m on special orders from Coin. My mission is to assassinate President Snow.”

Briggs laughs maniacally, “I don’t believe that for a second. Why would Boggs give you clearance?”

Jisung announces, “Because he believed in her.”

All Briggs can do is nod. You can tell the gears are churning in her brain, she pauses before she speaks. She lowers her gun, sheathing it back in her holster, “Fine. Lead the way, y/n.”

Swiftly, you all cross the courtyard, passing Boggs’s tar covered body that’s been severed in half by the explosion before entering one of the apartment buildings in the square. Making it up the stairs, you find an abandoned penthouse suite that was occupied by some elitist family in the capitol. Briggs’s voice is cold and direct, “Everyone shut the curtains now. We will be taking refuge here and setting off tomorrow morning. Be prepared to encounter Snow and his defense forces.”

Minho abruptly speaks, “You should just kill me now. I tried to murder y/n. It’s only a matter of time before I snap again.”

You swear you don’t move. You can’t move your feet and you can't feel your fingertips. It’s true, Minho tried to toss you into the tar- waiting for that chance to eliminate you. Chan angrily walks forward to Minho, his crossbow still in hand, “Maybe I should because you don’t deserve to live after what you did.”

You run in between them, holding Chan back, “Don’t Chan. He’s just hijacked. Let’s not do this right now.”

Briggs answers immediately, “We’ll just restrain you for now.”

Chan looks like he wants to argue but instead he backs off, shaking his head. He shuts his mouth and retreats back to the corner where the red-cushioned couches are. Within the next hour or so, you lay on the carpet by the television, rolled onto your side. As always, you can’t sleep. You try to shut your eyes in hopes that you can but of course, to no avail. You hear two familiar sounding voices from behind you, you recognize them to belong to Minho and Chan. They sit in the corner as they drink out of their canisters of water. You pretend as if you’re asleep.

Minho says in a softer tone,“You know she loves you right?”

“She might love me but not in the way she loves you. I’ve kissed her and she never kisses me like she had with you in the games.”

“Chan, that was just an act-”

“No, it isn’t. Anyone watching her can see, she still cares about you. All I know is y/n will choose whoever she can’t live without.”

Minho goes silent. You suspect that all he can do is nod at Chan’s comment. 

When night time falls, you sit up from being exhausted from tossing and turning. To your surprise, Minho sits by you, back against the wall. You’re startled that he’s still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask him shakily. You try your best to hide it but you know that your trembling fingers are obvious. 

Minho blinks once and slowly, crimson film glossing over the cut on his cheek, “I never really do anymore.”

You make your way to the wall, still keeping a good distance away from Minho. You two say nothing for a while. Minho scratches the back of his neck, his voice making you snap your head up from picking at the threads of the carpet. 

“You know, my memories are getting better. They’re not crystal but they’re there.”

Looking to him, you sigh, “I wish it was me instead of you.”

Minho shakes his head, biting his lower lip, “Nothing you could’ve done. Besides, the capitol tortured me. They changed the images of my memories by altering them, making me confused about what’s real and what isn’t. They’ve made me want to kill you for them.”

You’re silent, unsure of the right words. Minho’s eyes glint under the dim lighting of the suite, not too bright but not too faded either. It’s reminded you of his kindness and warmth when you kept each other alive during the games. You miss him. The real him. 

Then, Minho starts to hit his head on the back against the wall, “I can’t do this. Please, y/n. I can’t live like this. Just end it here so you’ll never have to see me again. I’m not safe.”

Everything wrong with Minho seems to fade to the background. In your head, you’d always envision that moment when you found him in a cave during the first hunger games and how he got supplies for you because you were injured. You scoot over to sit next to him, his blabbering halting the moment you enter his close proximity. You whisper to him, careful not to wake anyone else, “Minho, stay with me. I need you, okay?”

Minho pauses before nodding reluctantly, “Always.”

Your turn your head back to face the living room full of sleeping bodies on the ground. Your eyes land on Chan’s figure, he still has his hand on his bow even when he’s asleep. What you least expect is you feel Minho’s fingers on your chin as he turns you to face him closely. Minho leans in, his voice laced with fear, “You love me, real or not real?”

“Real.”

A silver spark in Minho’s eyes returns, the same ones who volunteered for your sister during the selection. Within the next few seconds, Minho presses his lips firmly onto yours. At first, you’re scared to kiss him back. You’re scared he’ll snap again and put everything and everyone at risk. Still, you remember Chan’s words: you can never let him go. It’s too difficult. For a brief moment, it feels like you’re not in the middle of a war. It feels like it’s just you and Minho, sitting in a field of overgrown forest weeds on a summer day. It’s not a deep kiss, not pressing nor urgent like you had with Chan but it doesn’t lack the significance either. It’s slow burning and gentle, hesitant but necessary. Minho moves back a bit, eyelashes fluttering, opening his eyes to you. The sweet, intimate moment is very short-lived when you hear bombs exploding outside and Chan is the first one to leap up from his place. Disoriented, his eyes lie on you and Minho before he turns away disappointingly, peering out the window. 

He huffs, “Everyone get up, the games are about to begin.”

[penelopefeatherington]

BRIDGERTON EPISODE FIVE SPOILERS : THE DUKE AND I. Let’s talk about s*x, baby.

I would like for Peneloise to make up already thank you. 

I’m glad they made it so that Cressida actually did see them in the garden? & not a lie Daphne told to manipulate Simon into their marriage. It’s just one ( 1 ) of the things i hated most about the reasons they got married. 

At this point SIENA deserves way better than Anthony, especially bc they both def have feelings beyond ‘ hey, we’re banging for money ‘. I know that Anthony is in such a tight spot & i love seeing that conflict within him ( i feel the conflict within you, let go of your hate ) but pulling her back and forth bc of those feelings sucks for both of them. 

Luke does such a good job with puppy Colin, I’m so happy we get to see more of him. The scene where Marina tries to ‘ seduce ‘ him & he is like wait, no we shouldn’t FOR YOU. Is such a Colin scene, and I love that he drinks his respect women juice daily. 

I’ve said this before in my post about why Daphne isn’t my favorite Bridgerton but a lot of that has to do with Violet & the s*x talk she gives her. I know it’s easy to judge from the outside but not only did Violet have 8 kids, it’s easy to infer from her lil baby story that they had s*x way more than 8 times. It’s always been frustrating to me that she couldn’t just tell her daughter about what to expect from s*x & a marriage & it’s STILL FRUSTRATING.

So, I really love like quiet declarations of love & the appeal to the Queen quickly went up the list. Simon, just telling the truth about how he felt and how naturally he and Daphne fit was so soft & so revealing of his heart. The wedding scene was so good especially with just the music because neither of them have much to say even in the book they’re both just making the motions bc they both feel bad. I pictured like .... the spiderman meme when they were in the in accusing themselves of trapping each other. also the s*x scene i just - did you touch yourself? SIR, please spare us ! we’re all horny.

WAS LADY WHISTLEDOWN REVEALED? no. SOME THOUGHTS I HAD DURING THE EP : dumb bitches in the park ( simon & daphne ) / cressida can fuck off / why does the housekeeper prepare daphne’s maid better than violet does / baby benny’s first orgy aww / HE’S TRYING TO FUCK YOU BENNY BEST SCENE OF THE EPISODE : my head says the s*x but my heart says the appeal to the queen. OVERALL : 9/10

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 14. Something Old, Something New

'i can't exactly describe how i feel but it's not quite right and it leaves me cold’ F. Scott Fitzgerald

He touched my waist.

It’s hard to imagine things would have turned out differently if he hadn’t, but in reviewing the events of that night, that was the first moment I knew I couldn’t ignore it anymore. ‘It’ being the astonishingly big shadow in the corner of my eye line that I had been pretending wasn’t there for the past five months, a shadow uniquely shaped like a tall, ginger, British man. For five months, I had successfully ignored a lot, Harry included, but the moment he touched my waist all my efforts were drained.

“Marie.” He said, as soon as I turned back to apologize when our arms collided reaching over the same general direction in the table with the seating chart.

“Harry. Hi.” I replied, feeling awe-struck.

We froze in place like that, standing before a table with folded, named cards, him behind me, trying to figure out where to go next. All I could think was that he was still calling me ‘Marie’, my name, but with an English accent. Like ‘Mary’, but slightly French. Like us, but also not.

“Excuse me?” Someone called to my left. 

We startled, and I quickly picked the card with my name, and the one with his I now saw right next to it, so we could both move out of the way. Then, imperceptibly if not for the way my heart jumped in my chest, his hand cupped the curve of my waist as he pulled me away from the crowd forming around the table. 

I still looked down as I followed him, feeling my skin warm and my conscience heavy, until the doors to the reception where I had told Stella I would wait for her. Harry right behind me. He put his hands in his pockets.

We stared at each other, then quickly looked away. The awkwardness could kill me, and yet, all I wanted was to look at him. So, telling myself this is a normal conversation, I took in a deep breath.

“It’s good to see-”

“So, how have you-?”

We spoke at the same time, immediately stopping when we the other did, and looking down in embarrassment. I couldn’t help but giggle, feeling my cheeks warm, but wanting to cry at how easy it had been to talk before. How had we ever talked before? Had it really been easy once?

“It’s good to see you, too.” He said, and I looked up, relieved to see his cheeks were reddened too.

I sighed. “I’m good. How are you?”

He smiled, and shrugged, non-committal. “The same.”

I nodded, appreciative of his honesty. 

“You?”

I looked down at my hands, and confessed, thinking back to the past few months. “I’m not that great, actually.”

He was quiet, so I forced myself to look back at him. He was looking back, intensely. His lips half-smiled, and he nodded once, understanding. I knew he did, but at once I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Just two seconds, and it was already the most honest conversation I had had in five months.

Suddenly, inexplicably, I wanted to cry, so instead I looked at my hands again. One of my cards said ‘Harry Windsor’, so I handed it to him.

“Oh, thanks.” He said, opening it up. “Table fourteen. You?”

Gulping, I looked at my card. “Fourteen.” It said. Of course.

“Nice.” He smiled. “We can catch up.”

I hoped he couldn’t tell how uncomfortable the idea of catching up made me. How… guilty and trapped it made me feel. I suddenly felt as guilty as when I had stopped texting him when Louis was first taken to the hospital, like I had done something wrong not talking to him in months even though he hadn’t reached out, either. Even though the last time we spoke he had witnessed me in a mental breakdown bigger than any other I had ever had. Even though I had then tried to kiss him and gotten angry when he pulled back, even though we were at a funeral. For my brother.

Just as I was feeling my cheeks redden even more, and trying to think of a way to have a normal conversation, I felt someone else’s hands in my waist – the effect humongously different.

“Hey, did you get your place card? We’re not on the same table as the guys, can you believe it?” Christopher looked at the mimosa in my hand, “Where did you get a drink?”

“Over there.” I answered, taking in a deep breath, and preparing for a very awkward introduction.

“You didn’t get me one?” he complained, to which I didn’t know what to say.

“Here.” I gave him my glass, which he held, and took a sip.

“Chris, this is –” I started, just as a friend of ours approached, and Christopher turned around to shake his hand.

I exchanged a look with Harry. Embarrassed, I tried to give him an apologetic smile, but he didn’t return it. This, too, felt like the most honest interaction I had in months.

“Mags was just saying that!” Christopher said, passing an arm around my shoulders now and turning me towards Kent, a friend of ours from France, who had gone to School with him.

“Margueritte, there you are!” Kent said, approaching to kiss my cheeks. “We were just saying that we need to schedule a big reunion for the gang, what do you think?”

“Yes, we do!” I smiled. “I feel like I haven’t seen anyone in years.”

He laughed, and leaned in to say his next words in a conspiratorial tone. “We gotta do it before you two are crowned, or you won’t have time for us peasants anymore!”

We laughed; Christopher sheepishly, a grin he tried to cover scratching his chin, tightening his grip around my waist. Kent fully, joyfully. Me, awkwardly, staring at the floor.

I decided I should introduce Harry now, who was still standing next to us. It was, I decided, as good a subject change as any.

“Did you see Bronn inside?” Kent asked us, but looking pointedly at Christopher. “His father is trying to get him to run for office.”

Christopher rolled his eyes. “Of course he is, why else would he have gone to Oxford? He always hated school.” They laughed. “Let’s go say hi.”

He turned to me, kissed my cheek quickly, and gave me his place card. “Meet you at our table, Maggie. Get me a drink if you see a waiter?”

They left. I bit my lip, fidgeting with my handbag and cards, before looking up at him, and getting the wind knocked out of me as I once again realized he was already looking at me.

Christopher was nice, he was the picture of politeness and manners; he likely just didn’t see Harry. It was a crowded room. I tried to think of an excuse to give him, but they all felt… superficial.

“So.” I started. “What–?” “He didn’t have mimosas.” Stella said, joining us, two wine glasses in hand. “So I got two wines out of spite – what are you–?” I got one of the glasses and started drinking. “Stella, this is Harry.” He offered her a polite smile. “Hello.” “Oh, of course! From the… tour, right?” She looked at me. “Yes, feels like a long time ago.” “How’s Cressida?” She asked; Harry’s smile faltered. “I’ve met her a couple of times, our parents know each other, I think. They’ve mentioned you.” She explained. “Oh. She’s– she’s good. She’s good.” There was a silent pause during which I tried to squash the desire to ask. Instead, I said, “We should go sit.” Stella looked at the cards in my hand. “Sure. What table are we in?”

As we moved into the reception room, Harry fell out of step with us when someone stopped him to say hello. I waited until we were seated to, as casually as I could, ask Stella:

“Who’s Cressida?” “What? Oh, daughter of some friends of my mother. I don’t know a lot about her, actually. Aristocratic, well raised, good schools, you know the deal.” “Why were you asking Harry about her?” “She’s his girlfriend.” She said, inexplicably knocking the wind out of me, “You should have heard the way they talked about it when her mom called to tell mine. They’re so pleased with themselves.” “Ha.” I gulped, feeling slightly nauseated. “You know how it is.” Stella continued, oblivious. “For aristocratic families the goal is to marry their children to other old money, aristocratic families, the higher the title the better. An actual royal is the holy grail.” I drank more wine, wincing. I looked at her, feeling embarrassed to even ask, but incapable of not doing so. “Do people think like that about me?” She smiled. “Of course, angel. Look at you. Pretty face, fancy degree, Queen-to-be… The entire country, dare I say, the world is holding their breaths for who’ll be the chosen one to claim you.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. I forced myself to mimic. “They can’t wait to call him Prince Christopher.” I laughed, a little harder at this.

Stella and I had flown to northern England that morning to watch our friend Clara marry her English boyfriend in a traditional, small ceremony in a quaint country chapel covered in greenery, wearing the small tiara that had been in her family for generations, contrasting with the modern, elegant, flowy dress she had helped design. Clara, Savoyen-born, had never told me she - or her boyfriend - knew British royalty, but it wasn’t a shock. It’s a small world, when you’re royal. It made total sense, if I thought about it. I should have known better. I should have made an excuse. People already didn’t expect me to go, after all; It was the first social event I attended after Louis’ death other than Christmas and New Year’s.

“Margueritte!” Aayla approached us, smiling. “I’m so happy to see you!”

I got to my feet, and caught up with her, and then with another friend who approached after her. Smiling, but not too much. My new secretary, Auguste, had made the directions for this wedding very clear. Other than going to quit my job and meeting friends very privately for dinner a couple of times, this was my first time in an actual social event. Other than this, I had spent all of my time helping my mother work through her deep grief by finding and organizing old photos of Louis, deciding what to do with his furniture and items, and the basic upkeep of the palaces, frequently helping her staff deal with work issues related to her charity initiatives seeing as she was still too unfocused to do so.

So Auguste was worried that my ‘come back’ would be an attendance in a high society event. I had to actually insist to him and my father’s advisors that I wanted to come -- even though half of me wanted nothing more than to stay home. 

So projecting the right image was important. It was why I was wearing a muted green dress, as well. Long sleeves, flats, and hair up. Conservative. Traditional. No heels. Louis would have hated it.

Time and time again I repeated my lines: I am doing okay. Not good, not great. Can’t have people thinking I’m doing too good. Thank you for your condolences. Of course I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do for us. Right now we’re just taking it one day at a time. Thank you for your condolences. I’m glad you think my eulogy was beautiful. Thank you for your condolences. Yes, it was very touching how the entire world came together to mourn him. Thank you for your condolences. No, I’m not terrified at the prospect of being queen. No, I’m not excited I’m Crown Princess now. No, I don’t think I was meant to rule. Sure, God knows what He’s doing. Thank you for your condo–

As I repeated the lines I had been told to, I took this time to remind myself of the following things: There's no reason why I shouldn’t be here. It’s Clara’s wedding day and she’s my friend. It’s been five months and there’s nothing that staying home could do to bring my brother back. The press will say it’s weird that I’m enjoying myself no matter how long I wait to go back to my life. And it’s not like I’m so busy at home.

Eventually, I found myself sitting again.

To my right, Christopher looked handsome in his three piece suit. He kept his arm around my shoulders, looking around to raise a hand as a greeting to friends passing by. To my left, Stella was leaning forward to talk to our friend Gabrielle, who was sitting across from her. To Stella’s left, sat Harry.

Too close, but too far all at once.

"Speaking of true love, how's Ricky?" Gabrielle asked.

Sighing, Stella got to her feet, and walked around the table to crouch next to her, likely to start the long story of her latest break up with on-again, off-again boyfriend Richard.

"Please, take my seat." Harry said.

I watched it, almost in slow motion, Harry move to Stella's seat so she could take his to talk to Gabrielle. She thanked him profusely, and we exchanged a small smile when our arms brushed against each other as he sat. Chris chose this time to lean over me and offer his hand to him in an introduction, accompanied by what I knew as his cover-page smile.

"Hi, Christopher Ratté," he said, shaking Harry's hand in front of my face as I leaned back, eyes focused on the table, "I don’t think we’ve been introduced, and this is my girlfriend, Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy." I looked at him, wide-eyed, mouth agape, blushing. "I'm not-- I'm-- just-- Margueritte, it's--it's fine!" "Right, of course," Chris laughed, casually. To me, he fake-whispered, "I'm still not used to the new title." "Ha." I smiled, awkwardly. Harry smiled politely, looking at me. "I actually already know Marie." I nodded. "Yep." "Oh? From the funeral?" Chris asked, too casually. "Or is there a royalty-only group chat I don't know about?" he laughed. Harry and I exchanged an awkward smile. "I-- I met Harry on my last royal tour of England, with my father last year?" He looked confused, “When were you in England?” My polite smile was the one that faltered now. "We– we were broken up." "Ah. Right.“ To Harry, he said, ”So, are you a friend of the bride or the groom?“ ”Groom. He and I went to school together. You?“ ”Clara and I were on boarding school together.“ I told him. ”And I know Clara through Mags.“ Chris said. ”Although we also have a lot of mutual friends. She dated my friend Tanner when we were teenagers, but you know how those things always end up…“

Chris went on, but though Harry was still turned to our direction, his eyes were decidedly on me. Breathlessly, I wondered if he was thinking back to the State Dinner when I had told him about my one year in school in Savoy, and about how the girls didn’t like me, and I eventually convinced my parents to let me study abroad. I wished I could have explained Clara was one of the good ones, someone I already knew because our families were friends when we started school. I wished I could have explained that she had been a year ahead of me, so knowing her didn’t save me at the time. But then again, there was a lot I wish I could say to him.

The waiters appeared as if out of thin air, laying in front of us small plates with three small entrées each. “Prosciutto-Wrapped Persimmons With Goat Cheese”, they told us.

“What are persimmons?” Harry leaned in to ask, making me giggle.

“Fruit.” I told him. “It’s sweet. It’s good.”

Chris snapped his fingers to call the attention of a waiter before he left. “Hey, champ. Could you bring me some Cabernet and-- is your wine done? Some Sauvignon Blanc, too. Thanks!”

“I’m-- I’m good--” I interjected, but the waiter was gone. I bit my lower lip, anxiously.

“I keep telling you, it’s not wrong to ask for things.” Chris said, laying a quick kiss on my cheek. 

A lady, sitting to Christopher’s other side, looked at us. “So how do you folks know Clara and John?” 

“Friends in common, and my girlfriend went to school with Clara.” He replied, pointing at me. “Christopher Ratté, and--”

“Margueritte.” I interjected, forcefully, my skin crawling at the thought of him introducing me with my title again.

The woman, Jasmin, introduced herself as a family friend of John’s, before launching into a story about how her estate in Surrey neighboured John’s family’s estate and how their parents started sharing costs for the upkeep of something or other and that’s how the two families developed such a strong friendship. I tried to focus on it as much as I could, but really Christopher was more interested in the ins and outs of it more than me, so eventually I stopped pretending and turned to Harry.

“So what have you been up to?” I asked.

He smiled, finished chewing his entrée, and looked at me. “I tracked in the South Pole in December.”

I didn’t attempt to hide my surprise. “Well, you’ve been burying the lead. Tell me more.”

“It’s not as impressive as it sounds. It was just a part of the full trek, in support for Walking with the Wounded… it’s an organization that works with disabled veterans.”

“That’s still incredible. It must have been… horribly challenging.”

“It was amazing. And grueling. And awful. All at once.” We exchanged a smile; one long enough to make me slightly dizzy as I lost myself into his blue eyes. “And you? How-- how have you been?”

“Working with my mother, mostly.” I answered, fast enough not to fall to temptation to be too honest. “Helping her figure out ways to memorialize my brother for future generations, and do the upkeep of her own work.”

I took a sip of my new wine glass, which the waiter had only just brought. It was weird; something important had happened on the three days Harry and I had spent together. Something big enough that made me feel that saying even a well intentioned half-truth was lying. Something big enough that made a lie feel like betrayal. Why? That was the only way I had answered that question -- to anyone. Even Stella, Constance, Sophie, Larissa. Even Lourdes, Natalie, Catarina. Even Christopher. It was just… the truth, only in a light way. Why did it feel so uncomfortable not to tell him every feeling I’d had in the past five months?

The waiters came back, this time delivering a salad with fresh greens and bell peppers enveloped by cucumbers, a selection of roasted vegetables and a side of garlic crostini. I started to eat to avoid talking any more about my own life, because, in truth, I felt I had done nothing in the past five months.

What was worse, the press seemed to know it. Just when the world media decided to show an interest in the Savoy Royal family -- there seemed to be more stories than ever about us in outlets that had never seemed to know who we were --, all signs pointed to some sort of leak problem in the Palace. The stories Louis’ last months of life were particularly brutal, they mentioned his classes, they interviewed ‘anonymous’ sources that claimed to have studied with him, know him, dated him. They started interviewing friends of Louis’ only ex-girlfriend, whom they claimed had ‘always known they were going to get back together eventually’, and was ‘preparing mentally to be Queen one day’. When the palace staff reached out, she swore she hadn’t spoken to anyone. She started being followed by paparazzi and it became such a dangerous situation, my father was trying to get approval from the King’s Council to dispatch a security officer to stay with her until this attention blew over. 

On my end, there were stories claiming I had ‘abandoned important projects at work’, and left a number of my co-workers ‘having to work overtime to finalize work I had left unfinished’. It wasn’t… untrue. Of course I had left things undone, I was forced to quit very suddenly. But I had left very detailed and specific notes and made all of my work available for whomever was given my projects. Additionally, this was concerning because my former-firm had a very strict NDA code. Lawyers weren’t allowed to mention any part of our work, even petty office gossip, due to our bosses’ very strict attorney-client privilege contracts. Which meant that either someone from the firm was risking having to pay a lot of money and being disbarred or someone who knew me, someone I was close enough to to have told all of this detail to, had decided to break my confidence for some easy money or just to have an in with some media person. Either option was terrifyingly disheartening. 

By Harry’s side, Stella threw her arms up and sighed as she slumped in her chair. "I know!" She told Gabrielle, dramatically.

Harry and I exchanged a smile, and he gave me a funny look. "She seems nice.”

"She is."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Oh." I sighed. “It would be easier to count every star in the sky than to figure out the first time we met.” 

He grinned. “That long?”

In a different time, he would have preceded that question with ‘truth or dare?’. But just as it happened at a different time, it was still as easy to talk to him as it had ever been, and it made my heart ache all the more. His eyes, as he continued to stare me down, were still full of a yearning that made my skin warm and my breath rare. 

I took another sip of wine. “So, Cressida.” I said, before I could stop myself. Harry’s eyes widened. “Stella said she’s nice.”

He nodded. “She is.”

“How have you met?”

“Cressida?” I nodded. “Mutual friends.”

“...what does she-- do? For a living?”

“She’s just finishing school. Theater.” 

I smiled. Of course, he’s dating someone with one of the few careers you can’t have in order to be a royal. Of course he would go for someone who just as much as him wants a completely different life from the one we were raised in. Someone who, unlike me, has a choice on the matter.

I closed my hands tightly in fists in my lap, reminding myself I had a boyfriend. Whom I love. The waiters showed up to remove our plates. I leaned in to Christopher and hooked my arm with his, laying my head in his shoulder. He intertwined our fingers together, and I made a point to lean in to kiss his cheek, breathing in deeply, eyes closed, reminding myself of a few things.

One: Christopher always smelled of fresh roses after he showered, and his hair always looked perfectly in place even when he got so busy with work he couldn't get a haircut in months. Two: At a party when I was sixteen, Christopher punched a guy who made fun of me for wearing a Guns N' Roses t-shirt while being unable to name more than one of their songs. Three: Christopher was a really nice kisser. Four: Christopher was thoughtful, having refused to start a serious relationship with me until after we had both graduated secondary school because he was afraid it was too soon.

He was a good boyfriend, and I spent the better part of the last decade in love with him. 

After the main course, Clara’s father took to the microphone and the speeches started. As we listened, I used the time to remind myself of another few things:

Five: He once drove to Harvard to surprise me and the girls on my Political Research lecture saw us together and the following week they all came to compliment me on my hot boyfriend. Six: Christopher wasn't even upset I adopted a dog without asking him when we were living together in New York after graduation. Seven: After dinners or nights out, Christopher always offered to give our friends who didn't have a car a ride home so they didn't have to pay for ubers. 

I was shaken off my daze when the room started applauding; Clara got to her feet from the main table in the front and hugged her father. Her brother then took to the microphone and started his speech.

"Her dad reminds me of yours." Christopher said in my ear, "That's totally the type of speech he'll do when we get married."

Leaning back to look at him, I found no hesitation, no teasing smile about to break in. He looked calm as he watched Clara's brother introduce himself.

I looked back at Stella, reminded now of a conversation we'd had once when Constance and I were desperately trying to convince her Rick simply wasn't as committed to her as she seemed to think he was. 'You're planning your wedding in your head, but we know for a fact Rick thinks getting married is a death sentence! He jokes about it all the time! Why would you want to marry him?!', Constance told her, aggravated. Stella looked at me, instead, and asked: 'Well, they're men. They just don't think about it. Does Christopher ever talk about marriage?'

The answer was no. We had dated for eight years, ignoring the couple of months we were broken up after he graduated University, and the last break up the past year. In all that time, I had always wanted to marry him. As a teenager, it was easy to dismiss this. I was a kid. What did I know? But in University, or after? Even then, whenever I made a reference to our future, he would shrug, overly casual, and say, 'Who knows what will happen? We have time'. But he now seemed to have… grown. Changed. 

"I'm sure most of you know the maid of honor is a role traditionally filled by the closest female friend of the bride... But my sister has never been one to do what's expected of her." Clara's brother was saying, smiling sweetly at her. “So, I’m Clark, I’m Clara’s younger brother, and I’m her maid of honor. Clara and I have known each other since June 18th, 1992--” the room laughed, making him smile. “The best day of her life… but today is a close second.” 

From the main table, Clara rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Clara was the one who took me to my first University party…” there was a loud appreciative murmur around the room, and a few more laughs. “There, I got a glimpse of what life would be like outside of mom and dad’s house… I’ll be honest, it was pretty great.”

As people laughed again, I was hit by an unforgiving old memory. Me, 20-years-old, Harvard. Louis, 17, coming to spend a long weekend to tour the school, decide if he wants to apply. My friend Kat dragging us to Kappa Sigma’s year end party. Louis, the social butterfly, making friends with everyone, becoming instantly known as ‘British dude’, because Americans could never place the Savoyen accent. Chanting it loudly to cheer for him during beer pong. Jumping on the pool. Teaching him what a beer pong was. Holding his head above a toilet as he puked. Trying to get him to look normal so our security didn’t tell our parents anything too problematic. Laughing about it the next day as we vowed never to tell anyone. 

My heart ached.

“The first time I saw John was when Clara sent me a screenshot of his Tinder profile…”

From the front, the bride’s brother was still doing his speech, getting laughs from the room.

“He looked good.” He shrugged, jokingly. “My sister texted me, ‘I’m gonna marry this guy’. I wrote back, ‘sure Clara, whatever’. But sure enough, three months later there was John on our family vacation to Cancun.” Beside him, Clara and John exchanged a sweet look. “On the first night we were on the bar together and he slid a ten pound bill across the bar, at an all-inclusive resort, and said, ‘two Jack and coke and keep’em coming’. I don’t remember much after that, but I do remember thinking he and Clara were perfect together.”

There was murmur of appreciation, just as another memory came back to haunt me. One I’d been trying to suppress since Christmas. It was a mix, really, of little moments. Ever since I found the playlist Louis had intended on gifting me for Christmas, I had turned off his phone and refused to turn it on again. I hid his notebook in a box for safe keeping and refused to look at it. I could hear his voice on every word in it, and it his voice seemed to be trying to tell me things that hurt too much to hear – and I had enough of that from everywhere else. The press was saying that I wasn’t a hard worker, that I couldn’t handle my new role, quoting insiders from the government who believed it too, and I had no reason to believe my father felt any differently seeing as he refused to treat me like an adult.

It was easier to shut everyone off. It was easier to just carry his phone with me, feel him close when I needed it, but refuse to look too hard inward. But when Clara’s brother spoke, it was hard not to. It was impossible not to think of him, particularly after Chris’ comment about what my father might say at our wedding, it was impossible not to wonder… what would Louis have said?

“I need to use the bathroom.” I told Christopher. He looked at me, smiled and removed his arm from mine.

I locked eyes with Harry as I delicately pushed my chair back, and looked down quickly. I walked out of the reception room staring at the floor, almost holding my breath until I was in the hallway.

The reception was taking place at an old Manor home, a few hundred years old. There were no ‘ladies’ bathroom, rather just normal home bathrooms. There were a couple of waiters near the one nearest to the reception room, so I turned the other way and walked until I found another. Instead of going in, however, I just walked to the velvet lined chairs on the other side of the hall and sat down, heavily. My head hit the wall with a thud as I relaxed my body and tried to breath in deeply, slowly, trying to keep the tears at bay. But the memories kept coming. 

The one I couldn’t shut off was happened one day after Christopher had broken up with me the year before. I had just gotten home from work late, and started my usual routine: let my bags on the floor near the door, kicked off my shoes, put my hair up in a tight bun, remove my blazer and jewelry, and throw myself on the sofa for a few minutes before becoming a person again. This time, the phone ringed, and it was Louis. Mom had just told him about the break up, and he wanted to talk, to check in. ‘I’m okay’, I told him. ‘That’s not your okay voice’, he returned. We talked for a while. He let me vent about my frustrations over Chris, about not seeing this coming, about us having been fine all this time, about us having dealt with bigger distances than our current ‘long distance’. Louis let me rant, and then he sighed, asked if I wanted his opinion, and didn’t wait for my answer before he started speaking:

‘Honestly, Maggie, I don’t think he broke up with you because of the distance. I don’t think he really cares about the press harassment and all the negative sides of dating a royal, either, because he’s had enough time to break up with you over this and he never has. I think it’s much simpler. I think Christopher just doesn’t know how great and out of his league you truly are. I don’t think he values you for the things that make you amazing. I think the things that make you amazing are why he is breaking up with you. I think he might not realize it, but he doesn’t know how to handle dating someone who is so clearly so much better than him at everything. And honestly? He’s had enough time to deal with that. If he can’t crack it, that’s his problem. You deserve better.’

I wondered, again, what Louis would have said in his speech at my wedding. What tales would he have relayed about meeting Christopher for the first time? Finding out we were dating for the first time? Hearing we had broken up for the first time? And second time? Would he have said we were perfect for each other? ‘Chris didn’t deserve you. You know that, right?’, his voice rang in my ears.

I hadn’t been there long when I heard:

“Hey.”

I sat up, quickly, my breath caught in my throat. Harry walked over slowly, and sat down by my side.

“You okay?”

I considered how to answer. He wouldn’t have told anyone if I told the truth. He would have understood if I lied. He was just like that, somehow I just knew that. Instead what I went with was,

“Every time I think I’m back to normal… every time I think I’m okay again… it’s like something will always happen and a memory will hit me like a brick… and I’m right back to the funeral.”

He gulped, sighed, and finally laid his head back like me. “I know what you mean.”

“I want to cry about the most ridiculous things.” I confessed. “I want to scream about the silliest things… I feel so… irrationally angry all the time.”

From teary eyes, I thought I saw his head move as he nodded. “Yeah. I know that, too. A bit too much.”

It felt… so unbelievably freeing to hear that. To know I wasn’t going insane with pain.

“I thought I was being stupid, thinking I shouldn’t have come. It’s been so long. And I can’t stay home forever, right? But the moment her brother started speaking I couldn’t help but remember that Louis won’t be at my wedding.”

Harry looked at me; brows worried, lips pale as he pressed them together. He seemed to reconsider for only a second too long before reaching over and grabbing hold of my hand, which had been holding my clutch, and holding it in his, our arms resting delicately in my lap.

His hand was so much bigger than mine, particularly after losing some weight over the last few months. It was rough, muscly, warm. It made me feel warm, too. It didn’t just make me want to cry more; it made me feel I should, it felt like being given a gift. Like a blessing.

“It’s easy wanting to be okay again.” He said. “But the road to okay after something like this happens… it’s long. Too long. It’s okay to take time to not be okay. There’s no… schedule. It’s not a race. The only way out of the bad is through it. You can’t get to okay if you don’t just… walk the road first. Does that make sense?”

We looked at each other; it was in this moment I realized how close he was to me. Had his eyes always been this warm? My heart had the answer ready. 

“The only way out is through.” I repeated, making his lips flex up in a soft, gentle smile.

When I smiled in response, my own small, barely-there smile, even through tears, it felt like sunshine was hitting the dark corners of my soul for the first time in years.

--- ---- ---

Wedding outfit

[A/N: I knoooooooow, but don’t worry! The wedding aint over yet! Any bets on whats happening next week??? Thank you so much for reading! Please give me a shout to know youre here? Let me know your thoughts, I’m always open to suggestions and requests on what you’d like to see more of =) Next week: Marie finds out something Chris has been secretly planning...]

[hedgefairy]

Eeeey, we haven't had another episode of Bridgerton recaps in a while! But here we are, it's

Bridgerton, Episode 5

(if you missed the rest, the tag is #Bridgerbore)

Okay, so I dig the whole muddy hem business (short reminder, we were at this duel thing last time, and Daphne was very much a dramatic Regency heroine, throwing herself into the fire and everything), but I'm really not sure about her undies.

Lady B has a hangover, which is hilarious, and Daphne comes in like "I'm engaged", to Dukey, of course, they all annoy me so much. Cue Lady B fanning herself, and then Daphne goes on about how they want to marry NOW, because THE KISS and it would be such a scandal if that ever came out? I don't think society would mind if you stayed engaged for a while longer, I don't think anyone cares, you self-obsessed brat. Mummy thinks they had steaming hot intercourse and that's why they want to marry ASAP, and apparently that's the best hangover cure that there ist. (I'm not a fan, hangover Lady B was more sufferable than the usual version.)

The queen wears bright red gems with pink silk and it does not look fly at all.

The blue dress Daphne's wearing is pretty for once.

Her rival (CRESSIDAAAAA) and her mother smirk at each other in a carriage because they are scheming, and evil, and we can see that because they are dressed flamboyantly and have complex hairstyles. Also, Cress saw D&D kiss and now they can destroy her or something.

Oh poor Freddie Baby, he's just the cutest but he's about to take his leave because Daphne was the only girl he liked, like, ever, because she's such a diamond of the purest water, adieu, sweet prince.

Everybody keeps promenading without coats or spencers and I'm all "noooo", because it just looks so wrong. Someone give Daphne a stole or a cardigan, it's doesn't even seem particularly warm outside. Her hat also sucks (is that a fascinator? I demand bonnets!), but at least it's not the stupid Wendy bow, so I guess that's progress?

Lord B gets slammed in the face with the door by the dressmaker because Opera Girl up and left. See, Lord B, that's because you're a little bitch and she's done with your shit.

Ducktail Colin visits Cousin, and Penny desperately tries to cockblock him. It's somewhat painful to see, but also strangely realistic (I guess that's why it's painful).

Uuuh, we get a kitchen scene in preparation for the wedding! I love it. Also, the servants are annoyed by all of this, just like me. I hereby petition to replace at least 75% of the D&D (hell, make it all Bridgertons) appearances by Regency food porn.

At the dressmaker's workshop Cressida (who I still think is prettier than Daphne) bitches about and Daphne bitches back, why is no-one wearing bonnets?

The next Whistledown issue is out as Freddie takes his final bow just to leave me heartbroken because he genuinely didn't suck. The Queen bitches, what else is new.

The Archbishop says the early wedding is a no-no, and I still suspect that it's a general case of making things more dramatic than they have to be. Oh, turns out it's the Queen who's the spanner in the works because she didn't get enough attention lately.

Back to the Bohemian party! Yay! It's a fucking bacchanal and I love it. French dressmaker lady is there, too, cut to her and Middle Bridgerbro having a heated make-out session. Aaand the host is at least bi – they find out by barging in on him and his lover during what I guess is the quest for an unoccupied bedroom. Threesome time!! (Her stays are more than questionable, though)

Dukey is completely drunk in the gutter because they kicked him out of the pub. I approve. Not sure of what of the above, probably all.

Cousin plots to seduce Ducktail Colin so she can get him into marrying her. Lady F is in, but Penny eavesdrops (heartbrokenly).

Whoooo, it's George III! Him and Charlotte discuss the Regent but sadly George IV still does not feature. Another child (Amelia) is discussed – never mind that the historical George III and Charlotte had no less than fifteen children – but apparently she's dead (the historical Amelia died age 27 and it distressed George greatly, but here it is delivered as if she was just an infant.). Oh, look, George is bonkers and thinks the Queen killed her. Nice one, Netflix, treating his illness like this and then completely glossing over it again.

Daphne, please stop tossing and turning and sighing, get yourself off, it works wonders. But no, instead she goes to her lady's maid and gets a pep talk about how she can still be happy without offspring.

Cut to Dukey waking up in Boxing Bro's place.

People I'd rather have a series about. A non-exhaustive list by me.

Penny and Eloise

Eloise

Benedict & The Bohemians (could also be a good band name)

Prince Freddie

Boxing Bro and his family

Opera Girl & The French Dressmaker

Cressida the Rival Bitch

The Servants

Dukey's exploits at college

Daphne's dress at her audience is so horribly ill-fitting.

How can Dukey be a rake if he doesn't even like flirting? It it pheromones? Do the ladies simply fall over when he walks by? The heck? Someone explain! His appeal to the Queen, however, is really lovely, no shade.

The wedding is LAUGHABLY small. Nobody would ever get through with this. You can't tell me they couldn't fill a small chapel like that, at least with some staff. It is supposed to be "intimate", because you guys are Regency nobility and this will not stand. Good God, Daphne, he's putting a ring on your finger, not his body parts inside of you.

However, the reception is huge. This does not make sense, except from a very American modern standpoint. I'm here for the food porn, though.

At the party Cressida bitches about and Penny (again, desperately) tries to hook up Cousin with anyone but Ducktail Colin. Eloise is still trying to figure out who Gossip Girl really is.

Cousin Wears-Curtains-Again tries to seduce Ducktail Colin in the study, alas, he's too honourable, but wants to marry her nevertheless, but he wants to wait. She can't wait, though, because of the pregnancy thing, oh no!

The Queen is at the reception, too. You can't tell me that the woman who tried to intervene with the getting wed thing as a whole because she didn't get enough attention is okay with being at the reception and not the church? 'scuse me? What is a characterisation, even.

Turns out Lady Danbury (remember, Dukey's awesome fairy godmother) isn't Whistledown, but the Queen is intrigued by Eloise's investigations. Also, Middle Bridgerbro had a threesome with not only the Dressmaker but also his (hopefully bi, because representation, probably gay because cliché) host's wife. Awkward to meet her again on your sister's wedding day.

Daphne gets THE TALK from Lady B, whose boobs are glorious in this scene, but honestly, couldn't you have done that on any other day?

I cannot bear to watch this while I'm eating.

Is Daphne going to wear her hair up now that she's married, at least?

Sappy goodbyes ensue as Dukey and Daphney go off to their honeymoon. Her cloak looks like a bedsheet.

How is this episode not over yet?

Oh no, they'll spend their wedding night at and inn rather than at a palace. Awkward silence ensues on the ride there, but the landscape and the inn are pretty.

Man, that centre part and those bangs look so. Bad.

They have separate bedrooms, which is a bit weird but so is this whole inn business. *shrugs * Daphne paces in hers, Dukey in his, and this writer is reminded of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Drama. Ugh. Communication is key.

Here we go with the make-up sex, though, and here we also go with the soft porn my best friend already warned me ab... no fucking shift! Are these stays laced with satin ribbon?

Oh look, it's Dukey topless again. Daphne's face just annoys me to no end. I'm so sorry because she really can't do anything about it, she was born with it, but it annoys me.

Uh, Dukey butt! I have the sudden urge to burst into "First Penis" from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. They really made a song for every occasion.

Dukey, couldn't you have started with your hands? What is a foreplay? "Hey, girl, remember when I told you to get yourself off? This is basically the same!" *inserts genitals * It's fairly tastefully shot soft porn, though.

I don't think she came. How about oral now?

God, we made it into the second half of this series.

Give me strength.

This concludes Episode 5.

To Be Continued

(maybe with female orgasms?)

[typicalmidnightsoul]

𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 - Chapter 1

𝙱𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘���𝚛𝚘𝚠

Nesta is due to go to the illyrian mountains in a month and at a party dedicated for Varian and Amren she finds an unlikely proposition and an unlikely friendship

Feyre

I could tell Cresseida didn’t want to be here, but it was a party held for her brother and Amren, it was a part held for her brothers happiness, as a celebration for the fact that Amren and Varian had finally officialised their relationship. I frowned at the sight of her knocking back shot after shot but somehow not getting fully drunk. I turned my head to my own sister who, just like Cresseida did not want to be here. She was due to go to the Illyrian mountains next month but couldn’t she just be happy… just this once.

Sensing my distress, Rhys came up behind me.

“Come dance with me.”

As I let herself be led away by him I looked back once.

Cresseida was now making her way to an empty seat in the corner of Rita’s. To Nesta.

Cresseida

“Hello.”

Nesta Archeron didn’t so much as look her way. Cresseida smirked. It always seemed like the Archeron sisters’ were so perfect. Good to know at least one of them didn’t fake it.

“You are nothing like your sisters you know.”

She turned her head venom and fury threating to spill out.

“Who are you again?”

She feigned surprise, “Me? Oh no one special, just the princess of Adriata.”

Nesta scoffed, “Am I meant to be impressed?”

“I’d be glad if you didn’t.”

She raised a brow at this.

“I am basically just a face of superiority, I sit beside Tarquin 3 times a week and the rest of the week I'm off.”

Nesta turned back to the crowd of people dancing.

“Look I don’t want to be here as much as you do” She paused, “Want to get some fresh air?”

Nesta smirked, “Sorry I don’t take females to bed.”

Cresseida tipped her head back and laughed, “Oh gosh you took that the wrong way.”

“I am a bit confused. The hair, the gown, the posture it all seems to be the standards of a Lady but… your drinking, the males those don’t match human standards, you threw that away, why not this?”

She gestured to Nesta.

Nesta froze, “Don’t come judging me when you know nothing about me.”

Cresseida smiled, “You’re not human anymore.”

“Again you don’t know anything about me.”

She stormed out of Rita’s only to hear a voice say behind her.

“But I want to know you.”

Nesta

Never in her life did anyone want to know Nesta besides getting in between her legs. Her sisters’ needed her but not anymore. She could stay with them for a 100 years but she still wouldn’t call this place home.

She turned around slowly.

“Excuse me?”

Cresseida looked puzzled, “What?”

“Why? I have never met you before; we don’t know each other…why?”

Cresseida took a deep breath, “At the meeting, the girl you were then and the girl you are now… there are a thousand broken pieces separating them. Reminds me of how I was after Amarantha killed my parents. It was so hard. Keeping it together for my people, I bottled everything up to the point that when I blew up…no one else felt it but me.”

Yes that was exactly how it felt after her mother died. How it felt after the war ended.

“What do you want?”

“To take you away from here.”

Nesta flinched. “I can’t go from here… I-I”

“Why? Feyre’s new family only tolerates you for Elain, for Feyre.”

Nesta stepped away, “Yes but, I have no one, nothing, no wealth, no-”

Cresseida held up a hand for her to stop.

“Take a deep breath.” She did, “And think… weren’t you rich as hell in the human lands.”

Nesta stopped and tilted her head in consideration.

“Yes but…All my wealth is…I don’t know if my father left any wealth for me.”

Cresseida simply replied, “I’ve always wanted to go to the mortal lands.”

Nesta started walking, walking away from Feyre’s happy family, away from all the temporary happiness…away from the pain.

Cresseida walked beside her.

“My soldiers guard what was once the wall in spring court I could easily get us on the other side, if you know where to go.”

Nesta considered. Did she really want to do this? She didn’t even know this female…yet she was considering this. She stopped walking. She didn’t want to spend eternity leashed to a high lord and lady. Even if they were her sister and brother-in-law.

She turned to Cresseida. “I know where my family lawyer lives, he will have my fathers will.”

Cresseida smirked, “So what does that mean?”

Nesta returned the smirk with a malicious one of her own, “It means I'm ready to see what you have to offer me.”

1 Week later.

“I hate this cloak.” Nesta whispered.

“Damn and I thought I was the princess,” Cressida whispered back, “We could just rip these off and show your whole village how stunning we are.”

“Of course, because that is totally not going to kill us.”

“Then shut up and lead the way.”

Nesta kicked her and said, “We’re here.”

They went inside, and through the back.

The short stubby man looked up from his desk, peering up from the rim of his glasses.

“Can I help you ladies?”

They took off the hoods of their cloaks.

“Hello, Mr Sullivan-“

He screamed getting a dagger out of his drawer.

Cresseida in turn used the water in a nearby cup to produce a water dragon that bit his hand making him drop the dagger.

Nesta glared at her, she smiled innocently.

Cresseida used the same water to take hold of the knife and hold it to his throat.

Nesta rolled her eyes, “This is all so unnecessary.”

She faced him, “My father’s will.”

He pointed at a drawer in the far corner.

She walked over and pulled out a file.

I, Randolph Archeron hereby declare in the presence of Bishop Sullivan as my witness that all my wealth and property will be handed over to my eldest daughter, Nesta Archeron.  I give my signature to seal and confirm this statement. I request Bishop Sullivan to give my daughter the letter I have written.

Signed, Randolph Archeron.

Nesta put a hand to her mouth. Her father had left her everything, his wealth his properties, even a…

“Where is the letter?” She growled.

He trembled and pointed to another file.

She ran and ripped the letter open.

My dear Nesta,

I hope this letter finds you well, if you are reading this then I am no longer with you.  My daughter, your mother would be so proud of you, you have protected Elain and you have given Feyre the freedom to be herself. I know it seems like Feyre is everyone’s saviour and I can tell that you did not feel the same as everyone. You have not done anyone wrong.

You have nothing to apologize for. You have no one to bow to. You have never bowed to a man, to me. You did not bow to that King. You are the heiress to the Archeron mantle. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. The amount wealth I am giving to you will allow you to live even eternity in peace. I know you are wondering why Elain and Feyre are not a part of this wealth. The reason is Nesta, I trust you and them but you deserve to live a life where you get to choose what you do.

I want to give you a choice. I could not do anything for you in the cottage, and I shall forever curse and reap for that.  I shall weep even in death for my incompetence. I hope this will make up even a miniscule of my mistakes. Go, Nesta. Live on your terms for once. Your mother hated that you were born in a time where women are not respected, if you use this wealth to live for yourself I will feel as though I have fulfilled my wife’s last wish. Be the queen your mother raised you to be.

You can be someone tomorrow. Sometimes there is a peace in being nobody.

You never had a carefree childhood. You can have that now.

Your mother loves you to the ends of the universe. She always did. As do I. I have loved you since the moment I held you in my arms. You loved many things. Love them again. Your mother taught you many things. Do them again. Meet the family you thought you lost. You don’t have to live for anybody else now.

On my time away I have met many skilled fae. They have made you things for me, I wish for you to have them as a final goodbye. They are in the manor you grew up in.

Your mother and I love you and your sisters. We look down at you from the sky.

We are proud of you Nesta. We are proud of Elain. We are proud of Feyre.

All my love,

Your father.

She broke down crying. Cresseida held her through it all.

At the river house.

“Nesta where have you been?! We were so worried-”

Nesta held up a hand stopping Feyre half way.

“I went to the mortal lands with Cresseida to recover father’s will,” Elain gasped, “He has given me all his wealth has left me a letter.”

Feyre didn’t care about the wealth but… a letter only for Nesta? That broke her heart.

“I’d like to read you the last few lines,” Feyre and Elain stilled, their family gathered behind them,

“Your mother and I love you and your sisters. We look down at you from the sky. We are proud of you Nesta. We are proud of Elain. We are proud of Feyre. All my love, Your father.”

Elain broke down, “Nesta please let us read the letter, please…”

Nesta bit her lip. She looked at them both, their already teary eyed features.  She handed them the letter.

They both read it in a flurry.

Elain started crying in full force but Feyre looked at her.

“What does this mean? Are you…”

Nesta nodded.

“Nesta is it because of me? Please I will be better…just don’t go…”

Cassian came up behind Feyre.

“You’re leaving?” He whispered.

Nesta looked away. Not being able to meet his eyes.

She took the letter from Elain. As she turned to leave, Elain said,

“This is what father would have wanted,” She wiped her tears away, “Go Nesta, just promise you’ll write.”

Nesta nodded. She wouldn’t be able to hug them goodbye, she would just break.

“Wait Nesta where are you going to go?!” Feyre’s tone was pleading.

“I know where I want to go.”

The word itself felt freeing. Want.

“Until we meet again.”

She walked out to Cresseida in the front yard. They were all watching her. She knew they were.

Cresseida held open her arms. Nesta walked into them.

“Not anywhere in Prythian?” She asked.

“Not anywhere in Prythian.” She whispered

@wannawriteyouabook

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

Hi Readers, sorry for the longer interval that usual.  It took me awhile to work out where to go from here.  The hazard of not working to a plan.  Thanks as always to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take.”  You can read it on AO3 and Fanfiction.  Chapter 28 The following morning, I set out for work as usual.  All is quiet in the Village.  Peeta would still be sleeping off the effects of sleep syrup but there’s no sign of Johanna or Haymitch.  I modify my usual route to the school and walk down the main street, curious to see if Lace is working today.  She doesn’t open this early, but she can usually be seen behind her shop window bustling about, either sewing or sorting through fabrics.  Today there’s no sign of her.  Even more oddly, the tailor’s shop is closed.  Arthur starts early and finishes late, eager for as much business as possible to fund that factory he intends to own one day.   The bakery is open though.  Cass and Saffy are serving behind the counter.  Saffy replaced Sateen after she quit her job to marry Roy.  Her full name is Sapphire and she’s aptly named with dark blue eyes and pale blond hair.  She’s someone I might have been jealous of if Peeta hadn’t already been with Lace.   Very pretty, she flirts with everyone, male and female alike.  Peeta told me she had been training as a career before the war put an end to the Games.  Her favored weapon was the bow although she admits that she was only middling good at best. But if Glimmer – also from 1 – had made it through on good looks and charm, then why not her?  It’s the early morning rush and there’s quite a few people ahead of me.  While I wait, I take the opportunity to examine the contents of the display counters.  Bee stings must still be popular as they take up an entire shelf.  Below them are apple pastries and jelly slices.  Chocolate eclairs and fruit tarts, cupcakes and . . . yes, iced cookies, each decorated with a floral motif.  It’s clearly Peeta’s work.  In one corner of the bakery is a large glass case displaying a dazzling array of celebration cakes. “Amazing, aren’t they?”  says Cass behind me.  I look around and see that the other customers have left and there’s only me, Cass and Saffy, who is occupied packing loaves of bread onto shelves.   “We’re really lucky to have found him.  He could get work anywhere, if he wanted.”  He points to the central cake, a large multi-tiered wedding cake decorated with an intricate vine design in gold.  The pattern and the shape of the leaves stirs a memory, and I wonder if it had for Peeta too.  “We even got an order for one just like it to be shipped to the Capitol.” “The Capitol? Wow! That’s a long way to come for a wedding cake.   How did they know to look here?” Cass chuckles.   “She actually came in for the beestings.  She recognized us from our bakery in the Capitol.  But when she saw that cake, she just had to have it. It was the strangest thing.  The tattoo on her head was an exact match with the vine decoration on the cake.” “Oh, that is strange.   Did she say why she was in 12?  We don’t usually get tourists here.” “She didn’t say.  But the beestings was a treat for her crew, I know that much. Construction, maybe?  There’s a lot of that going on.” “Yeah, probably.” Despite my efforts to keep my voice even, I can’t help a sense of urgency creeping in.    “Did she ask to speak to Peeta?  You know, to talk about the cake?” “No.  She didn’t ask who iced it.”  Cass’s brow pinches in worry.  “Is there something wrong?” “Of course not,” I quickly assure him.  “Just curious, that’s all.  I thought she might have wondered how the cake and her tattoo happen to match.  But it’s probably a standard design.  Peeta likely saw it somewhere from his days in the Capitol.” His face relaxes into a smile.  “Well, there was plenty to choose from, fashions changed so fast.  None as popular as your Mockingjay symbol though.” “Yeah, it did seem to be everywhere.  Although I bet there’s a lot of people who regret they got a tattoo of it,” I say with a laugh.  I search for a change of subject. I really don’t want to revisit those days.  “Do you have any cheese buns ready?”   “A batch is due out of the oven now.   Just wait a minute and I’ll get them,” he says, and disappears into the rear of the bakery. The aroma of freshly baked cheese buns would normally have me salivating, but all I can think of is the woman who ordered that cake.  Cressida! What’s she doing in 12?  The last I heard, she and Pollux had been sent to the Districts to cover the wreckage of the war.  This was not long after the Capitol had fallen, Coin was in charge, Snow awaiting trial, and I was in hospital being treated for burns.  Maybe she’s here to do a story on District 12’s recovery. That would make sense.  I just hope Peeta and I aren’t the subject.   Paylor would certainly put a stop to it if we were, wouldn’t she?  She didn’t want me attracting any attention when I was in 8, after all.   I think as far as the government is concerned; we outlived our usefulness long ago.  Nowadays we’re more of an embarrassment. The lunatic who went berserk and kicked a fellow combatant into a pod to his death, and the lunatic who executed the wrong president.   I think, if the government have its way, we’ll never be heard of again.  No ill will, just please quietly fade into the sunset. Max sheds no further light on the Cressida mystery.  When asked if I’d missed anything while I was away, he only commented on Arthur’s uncharacteristic behavior at the pub on the Saturday night.  Max describes him as an odd mixture of concern and excitement. “Like he was happy about something, but felt bad that he was happy about it.   He didn’t stick around for long.  Said he had personal issues to attend to.”   Lace, probably.   That could explain why his shop wasn’t open as usual.  Arthur wouldn’t, would he?  Spend the night with her?  To give comfort, or maybe something more? Maybe he’s heeding his own advice: be adaptable, be open to possibilities.   “Lace and Peeta broke up,” I say, and wait for Max’s stunned reaction.  To my surprise I don’t get one.  Not beyond a raise of eyebrows and a sardonic laugh, that is.   “Did they now?  Well, you could see that coming.” “How?” I ask, disbelieving.   It’s so typical of Max to claim credit for knowing something after the fact.   Peeta and Lace were never anything less than a devoted couple.  No one could have seen it coming. I get a disbelieving look in return.  “You must have been too preoccupied with making plans for your weekend in the woods with Nature Man.   Because while their hands might have been all over each other their eyes weren’t.  His were on you and hers were on Arthur.  I was surprised Lace held out for as long as she did.  If looks could kill, Johanna would have been dead a dozen times over.” Max finishes collating the work sheets on the table and sets to work stapling them together.  “So, what’s between them? Obviously, they’re more than just acquaintances if he knew her secret before Psycho Boy did.” “They knew each other in 8.  They’re related through marriage,” is all I say. I doubt if Arthur would appreciate me giving away more than that.  Certainly not that he’s had a crush on Lace since childhood. “And stop calling people names.  It’s immature.  And unnecessary.” “But I like calling people names.  It’s fun.  You’re just jealous I haven’t one for you yet.  How about The Scowler? Yes, that fits,” he says, grinning at me. I try to wipe the scowl off my face but give up.  Max gives me so much to scowl at. “And now the big question is, who will she choose?  Nature Man or Psycho Boy?  It should be no contest but there’s no accounting for some women’s tastes.” “There is no choice,” I snap.  “And mind your own business.”  I plonk my still half-full cup of tea in the sink and stomp out of the staff room before remembering that I’ve just committed the grave offense of not washing my cup and placing it back on the self.  Maybe I can get back in time later to do it before Mrs. Matson sees it.  But I’m not going back in there right now.  Not while he’s in there, no matter the consequences.  That man annoys me so much.   And the most annoying thing about him is that he can see right through me. Because if I’m honest with myself, the thought had occurred to me too. Which is really, really dumb.  The situation bears no relationship whatsoever to the choice I had between Gale and Peeta.  Because then there really was a choice.  Two boys who were in love with me compared to one man who isn’t, and another I can’t say.   But somehow, I sense that there’s still a choice to be made.  I don’t know how, or why.  Just that at one point, I’ll have to make one.   If Max can be trusted with anything, it’s to spread information in the fastest time possible.  By lunchtime everyone knows.  I get a few looks, especially from the newest members of staff.  I suppose I’d better get used to it.  People will speculate and assume the way is clear now for Peeta and me.  In their minds, anything other than a star-crossed lovers union is unthinkable, an aberration that shouldn’t be tolerated.   It’s unfortunate for them that they’re going to be disappointed a second time. I walk home the way I came, down the main street.   Lace’s shop is still closed, but Arthur is open for business.  I watch him through the window as I walk past.  Arthur has really only one expression, but it manifests in varying degrees according to his mood and the situation.  Today it’s serious light, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.  It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.   Johanna calls by soon after I arrive home. Marcus isn’t here so I lead her into the sitting room where we can talk openly in comfort. “How is he?” I ask as soon as we’re seated. “Better.  There haven’t been any more flashbacks, at least.  I think the long sleep broke the cycle.  Not that I’ve seen much of him.  He kept to his room most of the day, except when he came down to talk to Aurelius on the phone.” “And?”  Neither of us pretend that Johanna hadn’t listened in.  We’re both shameless.  Johanna for eavesdropping and me for asking her to repeat it.  But justified, we tell ourselves, because we care about his welfare. Johanna’s forehead crinkles in concentration. “Well, I only heard Peeta’s side of it, of course.  And it was muffled at times.    But he talked about the flashbacks.  That’s how I know they’ve stopped.  And then about the break-up.  I got the impression he must have already talked to Aurelius about the possibility, because he didn’t explain why they broke up, just that they had, and he felt badly about it.  And then, all of a sudden, he started to cry.  He kept saying over and over that his life was ruined and he’ll never find a love like that again and that it was his own fault.” It’s a knife to the heart.  I know Peeta doesn’t love me anymore but he has some awareness that he once did, and that it was, by his own account, overwhelming in its intensity.  But Lace has supplanted me in that too.  She’s the love that can never be surpassed.   But something doesn’t quite make sense. Why break-up with her if he feels that way? She was the one who had to be forgiven.  Peeta did nothing wrong.  But then I remember what Peeta told Johanna when she asked him why they had broken-up.  He said they’d both lied.  Could Lace have initiated the break-up?  That whatever Peeta had lied about was a deal breaker for her?  And then I think about Arthur and his closed shop this morning and the little smile on his face when I saw him later in the day.  That’s more than relief for a disaster averted.  He’s had encouragement.  From Lace.   Poor Peeta.  Poor, poor Peeta.  Everything about her he adored – her laughter, her bright personality, her ambition.  He even liked that slobbering dog of hers.  And after everything he’s suffered. The Games, losing his leg, his torture at Snow’s hands.  And the loss of his entire family in the bombing too.  He had no one except Haymitch and me – a drunk and a depressed recluse, as battle scarred and broken as he.  And then he meets Lace.   The ray of light in the darkness.   And the amount of money he spent on that wedding!  To please her, to show her and the world how much he loves her.  And now, oh, how could she? “It was heartbreaking.  I just wanted to leap out and tell him that little bitch isn’t worth it.  But I couldn’t, you know.”  No, not without revealing yourself.  “But he calmed down eventually.  He talked about going the Capitol for treatment but I think Aurelius persuaded him to stay here.  And that’s about it.  Except to talk again tomorrow.   Oh, and Peeta promised to think about returning to work as soon as possible and to get out and see people.  And to continue to work on his memories.” That’s similar to the advice Dr Aurelius gave me when I told I was in love with Peeta.  To work on myself, to find my direction. “No, that’s not quite right,” Johanna adds.  “I left out an important detail.  He promised to work on his memories with her.  I guess Aurelius appreciated my input.  And he did make a lot more progress once I took over.  Sorry, Katniss, but he did.” I nod wearily.  It hurts, but it’s true.  All I managed to do was confirm what he had already convinced himself of. A disaster from start to finish.   “Are you going to see him?” asks Johanna. “I think it will help him to know that he still has friends.” I want to say no.  But I know that if the positions were reversed Peeta would put aside his own hurt feelings and support me any way he can.   “Yes, in a day or two maybe. I want to give him time to adjust first.”   It’s a lame response but Johanna seems to accept it.  If I were Peeta I could leave a bag of cookies or cheese buns at his front door as a convenient way of conveying support without having to actually engage. But I can’t think of anything I can give him that he’d want so I’ll have to face him.  I can’t delay it forever. I tell Johanna about the cake with the vine design and the woman who ordered one just like it.   And of my suspicions of who this woman might be. “Yeah, that’d be Cressida.  She’s been covering an ongoing story about Marcus and the national parks.  She comes around this time, just as Marcus is almost finished wrapping things up. Although, in 7, she was almost there from the start.  You know, because of all the trouble we had with the logging companies.  I don’t know if you saw it, but she did a special feature on me.  It was called “Johanna Mason – Environmental Activist.  Her Life After the Games.”  It was sensationalist rubbish really.  They kept on showing footage of me chained naked to a tree.  Even asked if I’d do the interview like that.   I did, but I want to be clear, it was their idea, not mine. And they tried to fabricate a love affair between me and Marcus too.  Marcus hated it.  Especially when memes appeared on social media transposing me naked against the tree with him next to me with his hands in various places.” “But why?” I’m aghast.  This is dreadful news.  If they did that to Johanna, what would they do to Marcus and me?  Or to Peeta and Lace?  Or to Peeta and me?  This is juicy fodder for the tabloid media.  “I thought they wanted us to lay low.  To just blend in and be ordinary people again.” Johanna looks at me askance.  “Well, maybe you and Peeta.  But not for the rest of us.  Beetee writes for a science magazine and does frequent guest appearances on “Cool Science” and Enobaria has her own reality show.  “Keeping Up with the Barbarian,” or something like that.   Annie likes to keep a low profile though.”   “Does Marcus know she’s here?” I barely whisper the words. Johanna shrugs.  “I don’t know.  Maybe not if she’s just arrived.  But he would have known she’d be here eventually.  Marcus doesn’t like it, but he relies on the publicity.   And when he goes to 13 next – “ “13?” “Well, yes.  He’s doing all the Districts.  You know that.  And 13’s practically virgin territory.  That’s one advantage in living underground I suppose, nothing on top gets damaged. He’ll want to move quickly to preserve the area most in need of conservation before developers make any more inroads.  I don’t envy him though.  That’s one place I never want to see again.”   Me neither.  There’re no good memories for me in 13.  And they hate me there. I killed their president. Johanna leaves shortly after, but not before extracting from me an assurance that I’ll visit Peeta soon.   I have about an hour before Marcus arrives home.  Enough time to use his computer to do some research.   I find the memes Johanna talked about.  One has Marcus with one hand at Johanna’s crotch and the other inside his trousers, pumping away.  I search Beetee’s name and find links to articles he’s written and his TV appearances.  There’s very little about his personal life other than he still lives in his home district of 3 and has investments in an electrical company.   Enobaria attracts the most publicity.  As well as her reality show, she’s a regular on the celebrity circuit, her trademark pointed teeth bared for maximum effect.   On Annie, there’s been no media reports since the War ended.  And there’s none for Haymitch, Peeta and me either.   I can understand why Peeta and I have been left alone.  At least, I thought I did. Haymitch and Annie would be fair game though.  Annie, slightly mad Annie, Victor and the widow of the handsome and seductive Finnick Odair, himself a Victor, the most notorious womaniser in Panem turned war hero.  Surely the birth of their son would have garnered some attention.  And Haymitch is a news story too.  A popular Victor and a prominent player in the Rebellion, you’d think they’d be some public curiosity about where he ended up.   But nothing.  Either there’s been no interest or it’s being squelched.  It dawns on me that maybe the lack of media attention isn’t just because we’re a national embarrassment.  It’s because we’re being protected.  Enobaria, Beetee and Johanna have chosen to be in the public eye, and they must take the bad with the good.  But not Annie, Haymitch, Peeta and I.   We’ve lived quiet lives, eschewing the lime-light.  I let out a long breath, not realizing that I’ve been holding it.  We’re safe then. Cressida will do her news story about Marcus and the new national park and then leave. Peeta and I have nothing to worry about.   A door opens and shuts and there’s footsteps in the hall.   I close the computer and replace everything as it was.   Marcus is home.

[ra3lynn3]

Hey everyone! I’m here with a little one-shot. Mucho thanks to @promptdumpster for the inspo. Shout out to the reddit user for the ideas behind Gale’s soliloquy, too. Forgiveness on any grammatical errors made, I went unbeta’d on this one. I hope you enjoy :)

Xxx 

“What’s up with your friend Katniss?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you two friends, or are you...friends?”

Peeta laughed at this. 

“We’re just friends. It took long enough to get to that point with her, I don’t even bother trying anything else.”

“So, what’s her deal? Is she seeing anyone?” 

“I don’t think so.”

“Has she said anything about me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re really not helping here, ya know?”

Peeta sighed, “Ok, listen. She’s coming to the Halloween party this Saturday. If you really want to get to know her and figure out how she feels about you, just get her drunk.”

“I...don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Gale hesitated. 

“I’ve been friends with her for over ten years. Trust me. Buy a few bottles of vodka. When she starts getting giggly about stupid stuff, ask your questions. She will tell you everything.”

Gale took a deep breath and nodded as he grabbed two bottles of vodka from a nearby shelf. 

Xxx

The music thumped as dozens of costumed party-goers danced around the crowded room. Katniss forced her way through the throng to make her way to the kitchen.  She scoffed as she shoved a couple preoccupied with sticking their tongues down one another’s throats out of the way of the drinks. 

“Nice costume!” She heard a voice shout over the noise. 

She glanced up to see Peeta’s new roommate, Gale, smirking at her. 

“Right. Thanks.” She replied turning to walk away. 

“Hang on! Can I get you something to drink?” 

She stopped to consider him. She shrugged and nodded without a word. 

“I’m Gale, by the way.”

“I know who you are. I’m Katniss.”

“Is that why you went with the cat ears?”

She rolled her eyes. “Peeta gave me shit about not being dressed up. It was his idea. Something about irony.” 

“Not much for Halloween, huh?” 

“Maybe when I was ten.”

He handed her a drink. He tapped his cup to hers before taking a drink of his own. Katniss brought the cup to her lips and took a hearty swig. 

“You dance?” Gale asked as the two turned and surveyed the room. 

“Not at all,” Katniss replied. 

“Ok,” Gale muttered under his breath. 

“I’m going to go find Peeta. Thanks for the drink!” She offered before walking away leaving Gale alone. 

“Can I go now, please?” Katniss whined as she interrupted Peeta’s conversation with a scantily clad redhead. 

“Nice to see you too! When did you get here?” Peeta asked, ignoring her attempts to annoy him. 

“Went with the James Bond look I see?” Katniss replied ignoring him back and giving him a thorough once over in his well-tailored tuxedo, and perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Women love it.” He cooed seductively in her ear. 

Katniss pulled back to look him in the eyes. He smirked at her. She licked her lips seemingly lost in a trance. She shook her head and put a space between them. 

“Your roommate is weird. I liked Finnick better.”

“Be nice. He wants to get to know you.” 

“No thanks!” She said as she turned to walk away. 

Peeta grabbed her arm and turned her back around to face him. 

“Don’t make me lecture you! You and I both know it’s been a really long time since you’ve even given a guy the time of day.” 

Katniss rolled her eyes and turned to escape. Peeta gripped her arm again turning her back to face him. 

“Please? He’s a decent guy. Have fun. Loosen up.” Peeta suggested with a shrug. 

“What does it matter to you?”

“You’re my friend and I’m tired of you hanging around ruining my chances of getting laid!” 

“The redhead?” Katniss asked incredulously. 

“Maybe,” Peeta remarked dismissively looking around the crowded room. 

“You can do better.”

“Go!” Peeta said turning her around and giving her a shove back toward the room. 

She stumbled a bit but made her way back through the crowd to find Gale where she’d left him. 

“Hey! Peeta told me to be nice. Can we start over?” She said holding out her hand. “I’m Katniss.”

“Gale.” He replied taking her hand in his, offering her an award-winning smile. “Did you want to go outside away from all this noise?”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Katniss agreed. 

Gale grabbed a bottle of vodka as the two made their way to the front porch. 

“And then I said, ‘you can’t put a pickle in there!’” Katniss laughed at the punchline of her anecdote. 

Gale laughed along good-naturedly. 

“Oh no!” Katniss remarked dramatically. “We’re out of vodka! I’ll be right back!” 

She wobbled to her feet, using Gale’s shoulder to steady herself. 

“You got it?” He asked snickering. 

“Totally fine.” She replied with an air of superiority, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

Her first step was a bit of a stumble, but she managed to find her way inside. As she made her way toward the kitchen, she noticed Peeta had found the redhead again. The two had their hands all over each other. The girl looked like she was devouring Peeta’s neck. Katniss suddenly felt queasy at the sight. Scowling and turning away, she headed for the kitchen grabbing a bottle of white liquor. She tore the cap off and took a hearty swig. She cringed as the liquid burned on the way down. With the bottle in hand, she made her way back out to the porch to sit beside Gale. 

“You’re back!” Gale announced excitedly. 

“I’m back!” Katniss replied sitting down with a huff. 

“You ok?” Gale asked noticing her change in demeanor. 

“Totally!” Katniss said a little more excitedly than she had intended. “Let’s play a drinking game!” She suggested. 

“Ok. Let’s play truth or drink. We ask each other questions and if you don’t want to answer you have to take a drink.” Gale replied. 

“Alright. Who’s the most inappropriate person you’ve fantasized about?” 

“Easy. Cressida Monroe.”

Katniss pulled a face. “The actress with the half shaved head? You’re into that, huh?”

“What about you?” 

“Umm..” Katniss hesitated for a moment. She glanced behind her at the house before saying, “My ninth grade chemistry teacher, Mr. Mitchell.” 

“Next question: what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done while you were drunk?” 

“Fell flat on my face and twisted my ankle. That was a fun ER visit! Thankfully Peeta was there to keep me company. I don’t handle doctors very well. You?”

“Fell asleep butt naked in the front yard of my frat house.”

Katniss barked a laugh, “Of course you were a frat boy!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you looked at yourself lately? You totally fit the mold. Tall, dark, handsome. You know the type.”

“And am I your type?” 

Katniss shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. 

“Oh! That means you don’t want to say. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Katniss took another swig. 

“What’s the biggest secret you’re keeping from everyone?” Katniss offered after cringing and shuddering from her drinks. 

“I’ve never been in love.”

“Love.” Katniss scoffed. 

“What?” Gale asked incredulously. 

“How is that a big secret?”

“I have a reputation to maintain!”

Katniss rolled her eyes, “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were a Casanova.”

“So...what’s yours?” 

Katniss shrugged staying quiet until Gale gave her a nudge, “Well I guess if we’re making confessions... I’m in love with someone and they have no clue.” 

“Why don’t you tell him...or her?” Gale asked taking the bottle from Katniss’ hand and taking a swig for good measure. 

Katniss shot him a look, “I can’t tell him because it would ruin everything.”

She grabbed the bottle back. 

“Or you could and it would set your life in motion in a way you never thought possible,” Gale said thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, the worse way possible!” Katniss retorted. 

“No. Nope. No way. As a dude, I’m telling you, you should go for it. It might not happen right away, but when a guy first meets a girl he might just categorize her as like ‘roommate’s friend’. But then, like, he gets to know her better. And if they mesh, something crazy happens in his mind.”

“Like what?” 

“Well, usually he starts to notice things about her appearance - good stuff. Usually something small like her eye color, or the freckles on her nose. It's nothing he can put his finger on, or describe, really. All he knows is that just looking at that part of her makes him feel good. He starts wanting to do that more.”

“You sound like a bit of an expert. You sure you’ve never been in love?” She glanced at him in disbelief. 

“Nah. I thought I was a couple of times though.” He sat quietly staring off. 

“So...?” Katniss prompted. 

“Oh!” Gale startled, seeming to remember he was in the middle of an elaborate explanation, “So then it turns into the guy noticing an expression she makes. Like it could be her genuine belly-laugh or the way she furrows her brow in concern or scowls when she’s thinking. And then it happens.”

“What happens?” 

“He gets a little flutter in his chest.”

“So what? I get a flutter if I run too fast.” 

“So, they stay friends for a while, get to know each other better. Then, one day, she hugs him goodbye....and he suddenly can't stop thinking about it. He plays it over and over in his head. Like the feel of her breasts through two shirts, her arms around his back, her smell...he finds these little mental movies of her playing in his head when he's driving somewhere, squeezing out his other usual daydreams.”

“Shortly after that, the guy realizes that whenever he looks at this woman, he feels good. He likes her lines, her curves, her sounds and smells... It's like she's gradually turned from a black-and-white photo into a 3D color movie with surround-sound. He starts wondering what he can do to keep her around, to make her happy. He realizes that he likes looking at her more than any other human being in the world. To him, she is perfect and beautiful.”

Katniss sat dumbfounded allowing Gale’s truth to sink in. Which, thanks to her befuddled mind, took a bit longer than usual. 

“So what do I do with that information, Mister Smarty-Pants?”

Gale sighed, “You go for it! Duh.”

Katniss giggled stupidly and took a final swig of the white liquor the two shared between them. She stood on wobbly legs once more and took a purposeful step up the porch toward the house before she turned back to Gale. 

“What if he doesn’t feel that flutter? She asked seriously. 

“He will,” Gale assured her with a small smile. 

That was all she needed to boost her confidence beyond the lack of inhibition she felt in her drunken state.  Walking back into the house, her head and chest rattled with the bass pumping from the sound system. She stood and swayed as she looked for Peeta. She caught sight of him in the kitchen digging through a bag of chips. 

“Hey.” She offered as she approached him. 

“Hey.” He replied, continuing to look steadfastly through the chip bag. 

“What are you doing?” Katniss asked after a moment of watching him. 

“Looking for the perfect chip.” He replied and shook the bag to one side, his entire face nearly inside of it. 

“Why?”

Peeta sighed and put the chip bag down, “Because I’m very drunk and very hungry, and I know the perfect chip is out there. In fact, it’s somewhere in this bag.” 

“Does it taste better?” She asked feeling genuinely invested in this quest of his. 

“Of course!” He said looking very heavy-lidded. He pulled the bag to himself again and dug through it, “Everything about it is better.” 

“What happened to Poison Ivy?” 

“She found Batman,” Peeta said nodding in the direction of the redhead who was now making out with a short, pudgy version of the caped crusader. After a moment, Peeta suddenly stopped and pulled a chip from the bag. He examined it carefully on all sides and smiled. 

“Is that it?” Katniss asked in disbelief. 

“This is it,” Peeta confirmed before opening his mouth wide to stuff the entire chip in. 

“You’re so weird,” Katniss remarked shaking her head with a smirk. 

“You love it.” He replied smugly.  

“Yes, I do.” She said looking Peeta squarely in his eyes. 

He swallowed hard, staring back at her. 

“It’s really loud in here. Do you want to go out back?” Peeta suggested after the two looked at each other for a while unspeaking. 

Katniss nodded and trailed behind Peeta as they exited to the back patio. The quiet was deafening. Katniss felt like she had cotton shoved in her ears. Peeta sighed contentedly as the two sat down on a metal gliding bench. He threw his arm behind her, resting it on the back of the seat. 

“I’m glad I came to your dumb party,” Katniss admitted begrudgingly. “And Gale is pretty cool after all.” 

“Is he?” Peeta glanced at her questioningly from the corner of his eye. 

Katniss shrugged nonchalantly, “I guess.”

“He was asking about you earlier.”

Katniss shot him a confused look. 

“Why?”

Peeta scoffed, “You know why.”

Katniss sat thoughtfully for a moment. 

“He asked about us actually.” Peeta continued. 

“Us?”

“Yeah. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t stepping on any toes, I guess.” 

Katniss nodded. “Is he?” She finally asked. 

Peeta gave a bashful shrug. Katniss gave him a gentle nudge. They glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes and smirked. 

“Peeta?” Katniss said after a moment, her voice shaky. 

“Yeah?” His tone seemed hopeful, he gave her a look to match. 

“I think I’m-“ Katniss stopped abruptly and searched his eyes. 

“What is it? You can tell me anything, you know.” 

“I’m gonna be sick!” She admitted before bolting from the bench. 

She made it behind the seat just in time to throw up in a nearby rose bush. She felt like she should be embarrassed, but didn’t have much time to mull it over before another wave hit her. She felt Peeta’s hands gently gather her hair from her neck and away from her face. After a while, the sickness subsided. 

“Sorry.” Katniss apologized as she wiped her mouth with a shaky hand. 

“I’ve seen worse at work,” Peeta replied nonchalantly. 

Katniss teetered on her feet in front of him, her eyes feeling heavy. 

“Let’s get you inside.” He suggested as he pulled her arm up and over his shoulders. 

He casually scooped her up into his arms in the next moment when he could see that her legs were useless for the trek. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Katniss teased, her words heavy and slow from the effects of the alcohol. 

Peeta laid her gently down on his bed, “Yep, you figured me out.” He replied with a roll of his eyes. 

He walked off then, much to Katniss’ confusion. She sat up and squinted when he flicked on his bathroom light. She heard the water running and eased back down on the pillow, closing her eyes as he switched the light off again. In the next moment, she felt a cool, wet cloth being pressed to her forehead. She sighed in relief and relaxed deeper into the pillow. Peeta brushed her hair from her face, twisting the end of her braid around one of his fingers. Katniss opened her eyes, taking in the sight of him sitting next to her at the edge of the bed. Her heart seemed to swell as she pressed her palm to his cheek. 

“I want to grow old with you.” She whispered. 

Peeta blinked and shook his head, “You’re drunk!” He laughed. 

Pulling one leg up and then the other, he slipped his shoes off then undid his bow tie and a couple of shirt buttons. Katniss slid over to make room on the bed. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest as he laid down beside her. 

“You don’t want to grow old with me?” She whimpered pathetically, feeling on the verge of tears. 

Peeta’s chest shook as he chuckled at her once again. She felt his hand making lazy circles on her back as they lay quietly for a moment. 

She popped up suddenly looking wildly at him, the washcloth sliding down her face, “Am I a black and white picture to you, or a 3-D movie with surround sound?” 

“Umm..”

“Do I give you flutters? Do you like my smell?” 

“Katniss, what-?”

“Am I your chip?” She cried, feeling panicked. 

Peeta cupped her face in his hands, “Chill. Out.” He said slowly and calmly. “What are you talking about?” 

As his blue eyes met her grey ones, Katniss felt like she could melt into his touch. Her mind and heart were whirling wildly with emotion. She gave her head a little shake, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She muttered something about Gale then decided she needed to brush her teeth. Pulling out of Peeta’s grasp and clumsily climbing over him, she made her way to the bathroom. When she returned to bed she found Peeta fast asleep. She smiled at his sleeping figure and carefully laid back down beside him. 

“I love you, Peeta Mellark.” She whispered as she touched her forehead to his temple and quickly fell asleep. 

She woke in the morning to an empty bed and a raging headache. Groaning, she pushed herself up to sit and looked around to gain her bearings. Her recollection of the previous night was fuzzy at best. After a moment she stumbled to her feet and made her way to the kitchen where she found Peeta flitting around in his boxers and a T-shirt, cooking. 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” He said jovially, catching her eye as she shuffled in and took a seat at the kitchen table. 

“Hey yourself.” She grumped as she laid her head down on her arms. 

“Quite a party last night, huh?” 

Katniss shot him a look and grunted a response. Peeta slid a plate full of food in front of her, taking a seat beside her at the table with his own. Katniss felt her stomach churn and cringed at the sight and smell of the food. She carefully pushed it away from her as if it might explode. She had gone back to resting her head as Gale sauntered in and sat down at the table where Katniss had left her plate. He dug into the food hungrily. 

“Mornin!” He greeted them in between bites. “How was your night?” He asked looking between Katniss and Peeta. 

“Fine, why?” Peeta asked. 

Gale looked at Katniss pointedly waving his fork at her, “I just wondered about you two since our little conversation...”

“I gotta get home. Just remembered I have a ton of papers to grade!” Katniss said jumping from her seat. 

The movement made her head spin, which made her nausea worse. Gale’s words had suddenly brought back enough memories from the night before that she didn’t want to stay around and wait for Peeta to get curious. She wasn’t quite ready for her drunk conversation to reveal too much of her sober heart. 

“What did you guys talk about?” Peeta asked as he watched Katniss flee from the kitchen and down the hall to his room. 

“You.” 

“Me?”

“She’s in love with you,” Gale said with a shrug as he went for another bite. 

“No, she’s not.” Peeta scoffed. 

“Trust me, dude. She is.” 

“Dude, no. She’s not.” 

Both men turned and watched as Katniss made a hasty retreat with her head down; jacket and bag clutched to her chest. 

“Bye.” She muttered quickly as she slammed the front door behind her. 

“She is,” Gale said finally, looking Peeta dead in the eyes. 

Xxx

“Well hello, Peeta. You’re a bit early for lunch, aren’t you?” An auburn-haired woman greeted Peeta with a knowing look.  

“Not here for lunch today, Annie,” Peeta replied with a tight smile.  

He ran his hand through his hair as he signed in on a nearby clipboard. He hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time. He clipped a visitor badge to his scrubs and exited the office. He glanced at the colorful artwork hanging on the walls as he made his way down the hall. The sounds of children’s voices filled the air as he stopped just outside a familiar classroom door. Peering in, he noticed Katniss bent near a student’s desk explaining something on a page to the boy sitting beside her. Peeta’s stomach did a quick flip flop as he went to tap lightly on the door’s window. He caught the attention of a raven-haired little girl. She jumped to her feet and made for the door to open it for him. The movement caught Katniss’ attention. She stood and looked his way, an unreadable expression crossing her features as their eyes met. 

“Hi, Mr. Mellark! Are you here to read to us again?” The little girl asked in greeting as she opened the door. 

Peeta smiled at her, “Not today, Jeannie.” He replied with a small smile. 

“What are you doing here?” Katniss asked as she came up beside them. 

“Mr. Mellark!” A few of the other students shouted in greeting. 

A couple of the children even left their seats to hug his legs once they realized a familiar guest was among them. He smiled and squeezed them back. 

“Let’s get back to work, boys and girls. Mr. Mellark was just leaving.” Katniss announced as she gripped Peeta roughly by the arm and walked him forcefully toward the door. 

“What gives?” He asked as they made their way out to the hall, giving his arm a rub. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Katniss asked as she crossed her arms. 

“Yes, but you won’t return my calls or texts. I was starting to get worried.” Peeta replied. 

Katniss seemed distracted as she poked her head back into the classroom to check on her students. 

“I’ve been busy.” She said with a shrug as she turned to give him her full attention. “In fact, now isn’t a great time either.” She said as she poked her head back inside the class. 

“We need to talk.” He pleaded. 

“Ok. Can it wait until I don’t have a class full of seven-year-olds waiting on me, please?” She let out a huff of annoyance. 

Peeta nodded in defeat, running a hand through his hair. He turned and took a few steps back down the hallway before thinking better of it. 

“I just need you to know something before I go.” He said as he stopped to turn around. 

Katniss stepped back out into the hall, a small group of children popped their heads out around the door to watch. 

“What is it, Peeta?”

He took a deep breath before admitting, “Katniss, you’re my chip.” 

“I’m your chip?” Katniss scrunched her face in confusion. 

“Yeah. Always have been.” Peeta said with a shy smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

Katniss wracked her brain trying to make sense of what he meant as he turned and walked away. As she ushered the small group of children back into the classroom and got them settled into their task, the realization hit her. 

“I’m his chip!” She muttered. “I’m his chip!” She shouted as she sprinted for her classroom door. 

“Johanna, I need you to watch my class for a second. I’ve gotta take care of something.” She said urgently to the teacher across the hall as she made a mad dash for the front of the building, hoping to catch Peeta before he got to his car. 

She growled in frustration as she felt heavy drops of rain hit her. She scanned the parking lot quickly, noticing a pair of taillights as Peeta’s car pulled from its spot. 

“Peeta!” She cried as she ran toward his car. “Peeta!” She called again coming alongside his window, hitting it with her hand. 

“Katniss, what are you doing? It’s pouring!” Peeta admonished as he rolled down his window. 

“I don’t care! I’m your chip!” She exclaimed. 

She stepped aside as Peeta got out of his car. 

“Katniss, I’m sorry it took me so long, I just didn’t think-“

Before Peeta could finish his thought, Katniss grabbed his face in her hands and pulled him to her. Their mouths crashed against each other. Peeta wrapped his arms around Katniss’ waist as he tilted his head to deepen their long overdue kiss. She slid her hands down his face, lacing her fingers at the nape of his neck. 

Peeta pulled back a moment later and whispered to Katniss’ mouth, “There’s rain pouring down my butt crack.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Thanks for the visual.”

Peeta smiled as he pushed a matted wet strand of hair from Katniss’ forehead. 

“I love you.” He said, swallowing hard. “God, I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” He admitted with an awkward chuckle. 

Katniss chuckled, “I love you too.”

[talkfastromance4]

4. Minefields--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST, there is physical abuse in this, it is minimal/accidental and happens after drinking/drug usage please, please read with caution, drug use mentioned briefly but no particular drug named, aftermath of drugs, aftermath of hit, more angst

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

1 Year Ago

Cressida is flipping through her magazine on the couch in her hotel suite in Italy. She’s here on a promotional trip for the newest Brandy she helped design. It has a hint of vanilla and is in a beautiful gold bottle. Ashton gave her the idea.

Ashton is also in the hotel across the street. She wonders if he’s thinking of her too. The last time they were together they got into a big fight about Gavin and Lucinda. Ashton’s heard rumors he’s a part of a large drug cartel involving opioids, hallucinogens, the whole nine yards. Cressida disagreed because that’s all just rumors to stir the pot.

She fired back that Lucinda is only after Ashton’s money and plans on taking it all in a large divorce battle where she’d play victim. Ashton told her she was insane and they both left the hotel in huffs of fury.

She flips past a page that has her and Gavin blown up on both pages while they were out walking for lunch. The small article claims there’s “trouble in paradise and alcohol might be at risk.” Gavin has been partying a lot more recently and doesn’t come home until five a.m. most days. Cressida checks the watch on her wrist that matches the bracelet Ashton gifted her.

It’s nearly 2 in the morning now, her jet lag is still a nuisance. She glances to the open window and sees movement in Ashton’s room behind the white curtain. The only way she knows it’s his room is because that’s where they stayed while they were here that wonderful summer.

Her lips are pursed as she contemplates and thinks, eyes glancing to the pink rotary phone and the short yet oh so far distance to where Ashton is. Giving in, she reaches for the phone and dials the hotel’s number asking for the room Mr. Irwin is staying it. When asked who they should say is calling she told them, “say it’s Miss Gold.”

The phone hums in her ear and she saunters over the window waiting to hear his voice and to hopefully see him in the window.

“It’s you,” his voice is soft and quiet. He almost sounds relieved.

“It’s me,” she smiles and begins to pace. “I know this might be a mistake calling you this late but…”

“But what angel?”

The use of her nickname is a sign that he misses her too. She moves in front of the window and sees his silhouette facing her.

“These dreams I have of you aren’t real enough.”

He’s silent for a beat.

“Is he there with you?”

“No, he’s at some club. He doesn’t get back until early in the morning anyway, I could come over and—”

Cressida stops short because she hears a woman’s voice behind Ashton asking if he ordered the turn down service yet. Her heart sinks as she watches in horror when Lucinda wraps her arms around Ashton, their silhouettes become one large shadow. There’s a lump in Cressida’s throat and her vision becomes blurred with tears.

“Is that them? Let me tell them there were used towels—hello? I’d like to complain—”

Cressida slams the pink phone in its cradle, the ringer tings loudly as her tears fall in rage and hurt. She shuts her curtain and falls into bed falling asleep by draining the sadness from her heart.

There’s a New Year’s Eve Party happening at The Golden Lion and Cressida is there with Gavin. When she spotted Ashton by himself at the bar with a friend of his, Luke she thinks is his name, she wants to put on a show for him since Lucinda is absent.

Cressida’s felt embarrassed ever since that phone call to him in Italy. Clearly there’s something going on between Ashton and Lucinda, right? More than just publicity? Cressida downed two lemon shots in a row, loving the sweet and sour taste of the lemon and sugar.

Anytime she and Gavin were in eyesight of Ashton, she’d drape herself over Gavin and laughed extra loud. Sober, she’d hate herself for acting this petty, but being intoxicated made it all appear crystal clear. She could feel Ashton’s gaze on her the whole night until she ducked away to the bathroom.

When she exited she caught sight of Gavin with his hand up some woman’s dress and she’s giggling at something he’s saying in her ear. Cressida sees red, because not only is Ashton happy in his ‘relationship’ leaving her in the dust, but Gavin is also doing it for all the world to see.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cressida shrieks making her way towards Gavin.

The girl he was hitting on gasps then quickly ducks away back into the main hall where the party is. Gavin sighs rolling his neck from side to side before facing Cressida.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re hurt about this,” he scoffs. “Why don’t you go run to Irwin?”

“What are you talking about? You can’t be seen making out with someone who isn’t me, not when our relationship is in the spotlight 24/7.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t need me to be in the spotlight. You don’t need anyone because you’re Cressida Leigh James, the princess of Brandy because your great grandaddy double-crossed his partner. Guess that does run in the family.”

Cressida felt like she got slapped. While her and Gavin’s relationship is merely for public eye, they always seemed to have gotten along pretty well. She thought they were somewhat friends, but she has been double-crossing him this whole time. She’s been double-crossing her entire family from three years ago.

“You really think I want to marry you?” Gavin stalks closer to her and she backs away, he’s never acted this way with her before. “You’re a selfish rich girl expecting that everyone loves you. I never did and I never will, so when it is announced that we are to be married, I’ll be as faithful as you’ve been to me. See you at midnight.”

He shoves past her and Cressida is left alone with her shame and guilt. It falls out of her from her tears that won’t seem to stop. She hobbles from the room to go back into the bathroom, she’ll stay there for the rest of the night. No one wants her. Ashton has Lucinda, Gavin has everyone else. While she’s swiping at her cheeks trying to dry her tears, she collides into someone and by the smell of his cologne she knows exactly who.

“Cressida? What happened?” Ashton asks steadying her by her shoulders.

“It’s not like you care,” she cries trying to continue her way past him.

“What are you talking about? Did Gavin hurt you? I’ll kill him, I swear I’ll—”

“I’ve hurt myself. I’m hurting other people, too. Leave me alone, Ash, you should be with Lucinda.”

“Angel—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I should have known you’d be right here waiting in the wings for her to fall back into bed with you, Irwin,” Gavin’s voice strikes her like a whip. “I came to apologize but I was right. You are a slut for him.”

“Watch your mouth, de Poiters,” Ashton warns shifting Cressida behind him. He takes a step closer to Gavin, his fingers twitching. He’s wanted to punch Gavin ever since he saw he’s been linked with Cressida.

Gavin laughs and comes toe to toe with Ashton, Cressida sniffles watching what will happen. She’s thankful no one else is around, but at the same time she almost wishes there were people witnessing. Then this whole hidden façade could end.

“You hit me then everyone will know about you. Even her Daddy.”

Ashton clenches his jaw and Cressida gasps. Why would he say it like that?

“I know a lot more than you two think,” he jeers. “But I guess I owe you thanks, because I don’t ever have to fuck her.”

Ashton’s fist connects with Gavin’s nose in record speed. Cressida shouts in surprise and watches in horror as they tousle, fists colliding with flesh and snatching onto shirts trying to get more than one hit in.

“Stop! Stop! Please!” Cressida cries trying to break them up.

A defensive backhand meant for Ashton strikes Cressida’s cheek and she falls to the floor with a pained scream. Her vision turns black and spotty, and her ear is ringing from the commotion above her.

“You bastard!”

“I didn’t mean to! Cress, are you all right? I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean to hit you. I took some pills to ease off tension and—”

“Shut the fuck up and get away from her,” Ashton seethes shoving Gavin against the wall. His face is centimeters away from Gavin’s. “If I hear you talk disrespectfully to her again or if you lay a hand on her, I will kill you with my own bare hands. If you have any drugs that are near her, you get rid of them, you hear me?”

“Y-yes. Please, I’m sorry. I need to make sure she’s—”

“She’s not your concern now because you’re on a trip. Sober up and get out of my sight,” Ashton threatens pushing him towards the door. “She’s going to be with me until you stop acting like a fucking teenager and if I hear you’re anywhere near this building, I’ll have you arrested to rot in prison for life.”

Gavin gives one last pleading look to Cressida who is rubbing at her cheek before leaving. Ashton rushes to her side, his fingers graze at the shine on her cheek. It’s already bruising, and she flinches at his touch, her eye clamped shut.

“It’s me. He’s gone and I’m right here,” he soothes keeping his hand hovering above her face. “Can I help you up?”

She nods sniffling, her hands reaching out for him. She’s off balance from drinking and her head is still spinning from the backhand. Ashton helps her walk but it’s hard for her, so he just lifts her into his arms. She cries out in pain when her cheek rubs against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he hushes, “I’ll take you up to our room and clean you up.”

“Okay,’’ she whimpers, lips trembling. She closes her eyes to blink and when she opens them again she’s staring at their room. Her ears are ringing and it’s hard to see through her puffy eyes, both from crying and the slap.

“I’m setting you on the bed and I’ll call Louisa to send up your clothes and a first aid kit,” Ashton tells her. When he sets her on the bed he removes his hands from her like a hot iron. “No one will know what happened, okay?”

Cressida sways in her spot on the bed, her head feels really heavy and all she wants to do is sleep. It seems like forever until Ashton is back in front of her with a pile of clothes she keeps here that the staff washes and a first aid.

“Do you want to change first or have me clean your cheek?” Ashton’s voice is so soft it reminds her of a feather.

“Change. My feet hurt,” she whispers.

He helps her change out of her dress and into the sleep shorts and t-shirt. She lets out a cry when the fabric touches her cheek, he quickly apologizes then opens the kit. His fingers are very cool and gentle as he splays them on her cheek inspecting it.

“You’re bruising already,” he breathes then dabs at it with an alcohol wipe.

“Ow!” she cries.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos sympathizing with her pain. “I need to clean it and Louisa brought up an ice pack so we can bring down the swelling.”

Tears roll down her cheeks as he cleans her up, he comments on what he’s doing, how well she’s handling it, and when he’s almost finished. He places a small band-aid on the small cut that’s on the apple of her cheek.

“You’re all done,” he kisses her hand then rests the ice pack on her cheek. She winces again when he places her hand over it to keep it on the most swollen part of her bruise. “What can I have the front desk send up for you?”

“Water,” she croaks, “and bread.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He’s gone again and she feels oh so tired, so she lays down on her side letting the ice pack stay on its own. It’s hard to see because her eye is swollen shut, the pack feels good on her bruise. She wants Ashton.

“I’m here, I’m right here,” his voice soothes, and she’s being lifted to the center of the bed. Cressida crawls onto his chest, his arms wrap around her protectively. Hesitantly, and very carefully, he kisses the top of her head.

He helps her drink the water that’s sent up and feeds her the bread in small pieces, it hurts her to chew. And all the while he holds her, his heart aching for her yet also bursting in happiness by being with her. He lays the blanket over them and holds the ice pack on her cheek while she sleeps. It’s a restless night, whenever she turns she lets out a small cry and Ashton is quick to pacify her.

The next morning, she can only see him out of her left eye because her right is shut completely. Ashton smiles at her warmly but then memories of the night before come creeping back. Gavin’s words, his and Ashton’s fight that resulted with her on the floor. Ashton’s lip is cut but other than that he still looks perfect.

“I bet I look horrible,” she croaks trying to sit up then groans. Her body feels like cement and her head is pounding. She lays her head back down gingerly on Ashton’s chest.

“You’re always beautiful,” his fingers rub over her hair, “you’re just a little bruised up right now.”

They lay in silence as the sun starts to rise, the light lifting higher and higher on the wall facing the window. The steady beat of his heart is a familiar tune to her ears. She’s been graced to be in his presence five months earlier than they planned and from what she remembers from last night, she’ll be here with him until Gavin’s sober.

That could take months.

“He’s never hit me before,” she tells him quietly. His fingers pause on her back. “And I know it was an accident. He’s also never talked to me how he did.”

“He was on something, Cressida. That’s why he was acting the way he was. I know it’s fake between you two, but I thought he had respect for you. I want to make sure you’re taken care of when I’m not with you. I meant what I said, you know.”

She shifts her head so she can look at him properly. He’s a little blurry from her distorted vision, there’s some scruff on his chin. The cut on his lip is dry and she’s confused.

“You were hit more than me and I’m the one who looks worse. And I know you did, thank you for helping me.”

“It’s always the beautiful things that suffer the most damage,” he kisses her head giving her a sad look. “I’ve missed you.”

“Lucinda wouldn’t like to hear that.”

“She’s not here.”

“She was with you in Italy.”

“Is that what has you so upset? I had to accompany her for fashion week, my whisky was the premiered drink. You honestly think I wouldn’t have called you over to my hotel room if she weren’t there?”

“Really?” she smiles but it’s more of a grimace. Even her lips hurt.

“Try and relax your face, angel.”

“It’s hard. I’m so happy to be with you. Is that twisted?”

“A little,” he grins, “but that’s part of your charm. You’re a twisted woman.”

She frowns remembering what Gavin had said, she really is a twisted woman.

“Hey, what he said to you wasn’t true. All four of us are guilty of pretending with each other and lying to everyone else.”

“So, you don’t have feelings for Lucinda?”

“I respect her business, she’s great at branding and marketing. She’s a friend, and she asks about you.”

“She knows about me?”

“It’s no surprise they both caught on eventually,” he smiles, “we’ve been doing this for a long time, angel, and always in the first week of May.”

She touches her cheek carefully; her head hurts from all the thoughts coursing through it and from the throbbing pain in her cheek. She’ll call Gavin later to make sure he’s all right and to let him know she’s okay. Maybe the four of them could come up with a plan where they could all be happy.

“Ashton?”

“Hm? Are you hungry? I told Louisa to have breakfast delivered by ten. I figured you’d sleep later.”

“No, I’m not—” she stares at him.

Memories of their past push away the dark parts that have occurred. This situation isn’t fair to any of them. Even this, her staying with him now might be a mistake, it’s all broken in so many ways. Ashton always puts her back together again, much like last night. They’re in a constant minefield waiting for a bomb to go off. Last night was explosive but it wasn’t the nuclear bomb ticking away like the time they share.

She’d walk through a hundred minefields to be close to him.

“Kiss me, please?” her request is so soft he barely hears her.

“What I risk to be close to you,” he sighs with a teasing grin before pressing his lips ever so carefully on hers in a tender kiss, and she smiles in contentment. She doesn’t know how long they have, but any amount of time is worth it. Ashton is worth it.

“I still belong with you.”

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[theblogtini]

i don't think you're a racist. i think you've hit the nail on the head. and i think meghan also has a very individualistic mindset that comes from being an only child and someone who worked so hard to get to where she was before her marriage. in all honesty i expect a divorce down the line because i think harry is going to seriously regret all that he's giving up.

Oh why thank you Anon! 🥰

I agree with you - Harry will end up regretting this down the line. Right now Meghan is the one with regrets because she gave up everything with him but they aren’t solving the problem by just switching which one of them gives up their life for the other.

Of course, we don’t know what goes on behind closed doors but to me this doesn’t look like a great compromise. It looks like they both have taken turns making desperate attempts to save a relationship.

Case-in-point: Chelsy & Cressida. They both realized they didn’t want to royal life & left. And at neither of those points did Harry say “hey I just lost a girl I love maybe this Royal life isn’t for me” - he stayed the course. If he REALLY didn’t want this life he would have given it up for either of those two girls. Or when he was in the military and loving being a solider. But he didn’t. He wanted to be a working royal. He let the girls go. He retired from the military. Then he thought he found a girl that would stick with him thru it... but when she also realized she didn’t want this life he panicked.

So now he’s giving up something he’s proven - in my mind - that he wants & loves to please someone who isn’t happy. But what happens if the situation flips and he misses the UK and his family and his work? Then what? They flip back? Not an option.

I think what they SHOULD do is have Meghan step back. There’s precedent for a royal wife being a normal citizen. Let her live her life - even if it’s a high-profile privileged one. Let her just be plain Meghan Markle. Let her go back to acting. And let Harry carry on with what he’s doing. They can be happily married and both in the spotlight in their own way on their own terms. (Although I’m sure they realize now that that isn’t an option - Meghan’s royal status (even if had relinquished it) has made the grey area is too murky now.)