#Ireland was just standing by the window wondering if he had time to do one last wash so he could benefit of the gust of winds outside

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 42: SEX TAPE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Extreme Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

The following morning, when you stumbled into the living room, you noticed that your dress had been hung up over one of the armchairs neatly and that there was no sign of Kit. It looked like she had packed up and left without saying goodbye, causing you a mix of relief and concern simultaneously. Relief, because your unease around her presence eased somewhat, and concern, because something about her sudden departure struck you as odd. Nonetheless, you decided to put these worries aside temporarily and focused on preparing for the day ahead.

You made some coffee and took a seat beside the window to read through Cillian's latest script, knowing that he wouldn't mind. Cillian himself was still sleeping peacefully, clearly exhausted from last night's chaos. He deserved a rest. Taking in the view outside, you felt grateful for the serene silence surrounding you. However, amidst the tranquility, there was an eerie sense of loneliness hanging in the air. It dawned on you then that even amidst Cillian's fame and success, his life was far from perfect and neither was yours.

You had recently received some letters from the department of immigration, reminding you that your visa was going to run out within six months and, unless you found a suitable employer who was willing to sponsor you, you knew that you had to return to the US. 

Unbeknownst to Cillian, you had spent countless sleepless nights wracking your brain, trying to come up with ways to prolong your stay in Ireland, yet nothing came close to materialising just yet. Feeling guilty and fearful of burdening Cillian with your problems, you resolved to wait patiently for the opportune moment to confide in him about this issue but it like as though he had bigger issues to deal with right now as, suddenly, his manager knocked on the door.

"Up so early?" you asked after having opened the door for Ben, who was in his sixties and exhausted from last night's BAFTAs. 

"Yes. Where is Cillian?" he asked immediately, and almost rudely, just as Cillian stumbled out of the bedroom, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. 

"Good morning, Ben" Cillian said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Anything interesting?" he wondered, seeing that Ben usually liked to sleep in past nine. 

"Interesting might be putting it lightly," Ben replied worryingly. "There's some bad news coming our way, unfortunately," he explained, and Cillian's brows furrowed. 

"Oh, really? What sort of bad news?" Cillian asked, sitting down opposite Ben. His curiosity piqued instantly.

Ben glanced nervously across the table at Cillian before breaking the unsettling news.

"So, this morning, I was informed that there's this video on the internet now, featuring you engaging in explicit sexual acts," Ben explained, causing Cillian to choke on his cup of coffee. 

Hearing those dreadful words, Cillian froze, unable to believe what he heard. His face drained of color as his world crumbled beneath him.

"What?" Cillian croaked hoarsely, scarcely able to find words. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still – reality suspended, disbelief palpable in every cell of his body. He couldn't fathom why someone would do such a thing, seeking vengeance perhaps? Or simply to exploit his celebrity status? Regardless, the thought of this sordid act being public knowledge sent waves of panic coursing through his veins.

"Am I on the video too?" you asked a little calmer than Cillian, but still confused.

"Unfortunately, not, because if you were, you at least could give a statement together when shit hits the fan,"

Ben answered bitterly, his voice dripping with fatigue. His eyes fell onto you briefly, conveying sorrow and compassion. There wasn't much more to add—this was indeed terrible news.

"Then who is on the video? Do you have a copy of it? I mean, is it even me on the video or is it photoshopped?" Cillian queried, barely containing his anxiety as his head swirled with questions. 

"Oh, it's you and you seem rather drunk too, man. This is much worse than the public urination incident," Ben scoffed sarcastically, attempting to defuse the situation slightly as he handed him his phone. 

Despite Ben's efforts to alleviate the gravity of the situation, it did little to comfort Cillian, who remained gripped by terror. All manner of scenarios ran rampant through his mind; all of them potentially damning to his reputation and career.

Reluctantly, he clicked on the video while you sat by his side, hoping fervently that none of it was true. But as the footage began playing, he realized the unimaginable truth: yes, there he was, captured in all his vulnerability.

He could hardly breathe as he watched himself perform intimate acts, oblivious to the fact that they were being recorded. Each stroke of his hand, each whisper, etched themselves indelibly onto his memory, forever marring the sanctity of the most private moments he had ever known. His face flushed crimson with shame, regret surging through his veins like lava.

Seeing him have sex with another woman brought back memories of painful rejections and broken promises.

Your own heart plummeted as well, imagining how it must feel to discover such a compromising video was released online. It didn’t matter how innocently it happened; everything had become muddled, cloudy in your eyes.

The sound of your breath quickened, mirroring the rapid pulse throbbing against his temple. The heat radiating off his skin intensified, giving credibility to the choking sensation rising inside his chest.

"Turn it off!" you choked, holding back tears. "Kit did this and the fact that you had sex with a woman like this makes me ill," you cried, incredulous at the idea of betrayal running deeper than anything you had previously witnessed. Even though your heart ached for Cillian, your rage mounted as you remembered the snarky remarks, the condescending attitude, and the calculated ambition simmering beneath the surface whenever you interacted with Kit. And now, she had stooped so low, trading in the privacy of others like currency.

"She wouldn't..." he began to say, struggling to maintain composure as you interrupted him.

"Yes, she fucking would and you are too blind to see it. Do you know how she talks to me? The things she tells me, Cillian? You have no idea how vile this woman is," you broke down.

Your jaw clenched tightly, feeling anger and frustration seething beneath your calm exterior. In spite of your turmoil, however, you knew that venting this rage directly toward Cillian would accomplish nothing except further strain already fraught relations. So instead, you turned your attention away from him for a fleeting moment, taking stock of the situation at large.

"What do you think Ben?" Cillian finally managed to utter after watching the video, trying hard to regulate his pounding heart rate. As if in response to his question, Ben let out a heavy sigh, reaching for his glass of water which sat on the nearby coffee table. With a quiet murmur, he drank deeply from the glass, his expression grimacing with disapproval and pity for his client and friend.

"Well, we need to handle this swiftly and decisively, my boy", Ben advised sternly, looking straight into Cillian's eye.

"First, we contact everyone involved – the media, any potential legal representatives and Kit," Ben said and, with reluctance, Cillian nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

A torrent of conflicting emotions cascaded over you in that moment, leaving you raw and exposed, nauseous with anxiety.

"I am sorry, I..." you interrupted them, feeling nauseous again, just like last night, before disappearing into the bathroom momentarily.

Upon returning, you noticed Cillian wiping his eyes vigorously, struggling to process the magnitude of his predicament. Your hearts continued to beat in tandem, the rhythm matching the crescendo of anger and despair mounting within both of you. Cillian reached out towards you instinctively, grasping your hands tightly, needing something tangible to anchor him during these tumultuous times.

"I am sorry this happened," he apologized sincerely, fully aware of his responsibility in this whole mess. 

"It's not your fault. I mean, yes, you slept with her after we had broken up and it's pretty awful for me to watch you have sex with another woman, but I can't really be angry at you for something you did when we weren't together," you tried to rationalise, doing your best to suppress the jealousy burning hotter inside.

Cillian took a deep breath, letting out a shaky exhale as he attempted to compose himself. "You are perfect, you know that?" he spoke softly, stroking your cheek tenderly. The warmth from his touch offered solace amidst the storm.

Inside his head, he struggled with guilt and remorse over his transgressions, yet the genuine concern evident in his gaze was enough to quell the nagging doubt clawing at the corners of your mind.

Understanding your insecurities, he held you closer, drawing strength from your steadfast presence while Ben made several calls in order to get the video taken down.

"I think a statement from you would be helpful here," he said gravely, gesturing towards Cillian who usually hated talking to the press and, together with his publicist, they prepared exactly this. A detailed statement in which, finally, Cillian threw Kit under the bus after receiving critical information from the agency's team that the video had indeed been linked back to Kit's IP address.

"Who knows what else she is responsible for," Ben said recalling several articles which had been released ever since you came into the pictures as well as past cheating allegations which drove a wedge into Cillian's and Danielle's already fragile marriage at the time. 

As your resentment escalated, so did your desire to confront Kit. Yet, the very notion terrified you, fearing retaliation or further humiliation. After discussing with Ben about the plan of action, including approaching law enforcement and issuing statements, you retreated to bedroom where you laid curled around yourself, wrestling with your demons once more.

Perhaps Kit was right when she said that you were not cut out for this life, that you were naïve and idealistic compared to those who frequented these circles. However, despite your doubts, it seemed impossible to escape the pull of this world.

Hearing the front door open and close, followed by familiar steps entering the room, pulled you out of your introspection. Turning towards Cillian, you saw him pale with exhaustion and worry as he approached the bed.

Reaching out for your hand, he gave it a firm squeeze. "We will make it through this," he promised earnestly, offering some measure of comfort in this chaos.

"I am not too worried about, well, the obvious, I suppose. But I am worried about how this will affect us, because I love you so fucking much," Cillian

confessed passionately, wrapping his arms around you protectively. His eyes reflected an intensity of emotion, conveying profound gratitude for your unwavering support during this challenging period.

Unable to form coherent words due to the lump in your throat, you simply leaned into him, allowing the solidarity of his embrace to offer consolation and respite. There was still so much left undiscovered about one another, yet somehow, this shared experience only brought you even closer together.

"I love you too Cillian, beyond anything I could possibly imagine. This thing with Kit won't change that," you assured him, intertwining your fingers with his, seeking solace in his unwavering affection.

"And neither should it," Cillian replied solemnly, kissing your forehead gently. 

"I did watch the entire video. It wasn't very long but I noticed something stubble," you then admitted shamelessly to break the ice, avoiding direct eye contact. Despite being repulsed by the incident itself, curiosity got the better of you, wanting to understand why someone would record themselves having intimate encounters without permission.

"And what is that?" Cillian asked suspiciously, intrigued by your observation.

"You said my name, not hers," you explained carefully, choosing your words delicately, causing Cillian to smile.

"I thought about you, obviously," Cillian added reassuringly, his face flush from embarrassment.

There was an awkward silence before Cillian continued, "You do something to me that I can't quite comprehend, but you already know that, don't you?"

You giggled lightheartedly, grateful for his sense of humor. Gripping onto his arm tighter, you felt the weight of his words sink into your soul. "Yes, I do. I have you wrapped right around my finger, Mr Murphy" you expressed genuinely, appreciating his vulnerability.

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[marsmarauders]

Mars's Marauders - Part 2

Peter Pettigrew

(Photos: Pinterest. FC: Lewis Capaldi <3)

~

Full Name: Peter William Pettigrew

Birthday: April 13th, 1960

Nationality: 🇬🇧

Place: Nottingham

Heritage: 🇮🇪/🇬🇧 (His dad was born and raised in Ireland).

House: Gryffindor

Blood Status: Pureblood

Patronus: Rat

~

Peter's background is really important to me since I've had it in my head since the beginning. He grew up with only his dad, and is incredibly close with him, but due to his mother's absence, he always felt like he was missing something. He longs for that kind of care from his friends, particularly the girls (Alice, Mary, Lily, etc). Not in a romantic way, but in a platonic, nurturing way.

He loves to wear polos and sweaters. He has one of those sheepskin bomber jackets that he wears to every party. He wears derby shoes everywhere. He also wears funky socks. His favorite pair has frogs on it!

~

Songs that remind me of him!: Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? (Taylor Swift), Antidote (Chloe Ament), and Little Lion Man (Mumford and Sons).

Favorite Artists (Time Accurate): Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, The Beach Boys.

Favorite Artists (Modern AU): Alec Benjamin, Cavetown, Phoebe Bridgers, Mitski, Ricky Montgomery, Clairo.

~

My Headcanons <3

- His electives are care of magical creatures and divination.

- Peter is 110% a procrastinator when it comes to schoolwork. He’s the one in the group who waits until the night-of to do his part of the project.

- He loves animals, especially any kind of bug or amphibian.

- Chess master.

- He has a toad. His name is Mortimer. Fight me.

- Peter loves quidditch, however he has a massive fear of heights, so instead he enjoys it from the stands alongside Remus.

- His favorite quidditch team is the Kenmare Kestrels. :)

- I think Peter feels inferior to his other friends a lot of the time. He’s never been as smart and academic as Remus, never been as headstrong and athletic as James, never been as funny and talented as Sirius, and it just makes him feel useless and unneeded. Over time, he begins to resent them for this :(

- Peter took flute lessons growing up. Argue with the wall.

- His karaoke song is "Bennie and the Jets" by Elton John.

- His favorite color is green.

- Peter's bed is next to a window, and it is covered in plants. He's named all of them something that starts with P. Some of the most notable names are Prince, Pedro, and Patrcia.

- One time he asked Lily what he should name a fern and she responded with "Anything but Petunia." (That plant ended up with the name Paddington).

- Before you ask... yes he has a plant named after James. (It's Potter the prayer plant). James cried when he showed him. (He keeps a lily next to it because he is the number 1 Jily shipper).

- He sleeps with socks on.

- His father takes him to Ireland every summer!

- He loves sushi. It's one of his favorite foods.

- Whenever someone calls him 'Pete' it makes him super giddy and happy. He just really likes that nickname!

~

Thank you for reading <3 Have a wonderful day/afternoon/night, wherever you are!

[weepingfromacedartree]

Dancing Around the Truth - Chapter 2

Happy Tuesday! Chapter 2 is now available :)

Chapter 2: Tuesday

“Francesca! You must make haste!” 

The Bridgerton household is rarely ever quiet, but Colin can’t imagine that it has ever been as loud as it is in this particular moment. The chaos is understandable on a morning like this. While Colin only has to prepare for seven days at Aubrey Hall, the rest of his family are preparing for several months in the country. He uses this to excuse the fact that he is the least prepared Bridgerton for their trip (he had not packed so much as a sock). It is a better, more logical excuse than admitting that he had been too distracted by the view out his bedroom window to even entertain the idea of packing. 

A pit had formed in Colin’s stomach the very moment that Penelope left him standing there in Danbury’s garden. It remained rooted deep inside him during the carriage ride home. He could feel it as he laid in bed, struggling to sleep. It carried over to his dreams that night and was the first thought when he awoke in the morning.

He could not get Penelope out of his head. He kept replaying their conversation over and over. He thought of her laugh. Of her scrunched nose. Of her annoyance, swiftly followed by apathy. He tried to pin point the exact moment that he had screwed it all up… or if he had screwed it up at all. Could one step too far really unravel his season-long venture? Were his nerves unsubstantiated? Or was Penelope laying in her own bed across the way, counting all the reasons she loathed Colin Bridgerton? 

When Colin finally departed his bed Saturday morning, he walked over to his desk by the window to do something he had not dared to do in many months. He wrote Penelope a letter. 

An hour later (and many scribbled out words and discarded papers later), he sat at that same desk to catch a glimpse of the house across the way. He watched as the family butler hand-delivered the letter. Penelope’s maid was the one to receive the envelope and carry it out of Colin’s view. 

Several times on Saturday, Colin had retreated to his bedroom with the intention of packing, only to find himself looking out the window at the Featheringtons’ front entrance. It was as if him staring at the door would compel it to open. To bring about Penelope’s returned letter. But the door appeared to remain locked all day and night. 

When Colin looked out the window Sunday morning, Featherington House was nowhere near as still as it had been the day prior. He watched as the Featherington staff carried several trunks down the front steps and into the carriage below. The stack of trunks grew so large that Colin could not believe it was meant to carry just one lady’s belongings. He momentarily wondered if Penelope’s plans had changed, if she was accompanying her mama in Ireland after all. But when the carriage departed, Portia was the only Featherington to be seen. Colin did not even catch a glimpse of Penelope saying goodbye to her. 

No letter came for him on Monday. 

That morning, Colin wondered if he should just walk over and speak to her directly. He wondered why he hadn’t done that in the first place. Perhaps the simple act of writing her that letter had unlocked something from within him — hope in the form of a memory. From the times he wrote to her without hesitation. Without question. During his travels, he could write to her about his dreams, his desires, his adventures, his fears. He could write to her about anything and not worry about how she would respond. Back then, she always responded. 

Pacing circles around his empty luggage Monday night, Colin questioned the cause of Penelope’s most recent silence. It had been weeks since she had refused him a dance or called him “Mr. Bridgerton.” Was his concern for her too overbearing? Was this payback for his own careless behavior towards her? Did her hatred for him reignite? Or was she simply just apathetic? 

No, Colin thought, disrupting his own reckless thoughts. As much as their relationship had changed over the course of the last year, nothing between them was ever truly apathetic. They had gone through too much together for either one to be indifferent towards the other. 

It’s Tuesday morning now. Colin cannot stop staring out his window like a goddamn scarecrow. 

The view has not changed in the past two days, still so eerily quiet that one could suspect that the home is unoccupied completely. But in his heart, Colin knows it’s not. Somewhere in that house, Penelope sits alone. 

Colin paces the room as his thoughts grow louder and more intrusive. Once again, his mind drifts back to their conversation at Danbury’s ball. Things had seemed so natural between them for the first time in a year. When their eyes had met, she looked relieved, maybe even happy to see him. Things were different than they were at the beginning of the season. They had to be. But then why would she leave his letter unanswered? Surely she knew it was begging for a response. 

Between his racing thoughts and his siblings’ shouts, Colin barely notices when his legs stop pacing around the same circle. Instead, they carry him into the hall. Towards the front entrance. 

Colin is barely aware of his surroundings as he continues forward. In his head, he sees the letter he wrote Penelope. He can recall each word composed from his quill. 

I write to you this morning…

“Eloise, there is library at Aubrey Hall. Surely you do not need to pack all of those books!”

… they were not intended as such.

“Mama! Gregory refuses to grant me access to his extra trunk! He is a boy, he does not need all that room for his things!”

I am set to leave for Aubrey Hall…

“I do not wish to alarm you all, but it appears my sketchbook has gone missing. Again!” 

… anything at all…

“Has anyone seen Francesca?!” 

… the only matter on my mind until March. 

“Colin, where are you going? Have you even packed?”

⚘  ⚘  ⚘

Colin’s knuckles bang three times against the Featheringtons’ door. When it finally swings open, a startled looking maid stands on the other side. 

“Greetings, Mr. —”

“Is Pen — uh, Miss Featherington home?”

The maid looks him up and down uncertainly. Under her gaze, Colin realizes that he must appear mad. 

“I do not believe Miss Penelope is expecting any visitors today, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just — I sent her a letter three days ago. I have not heard back. I —” He suddenly remembers that this is the same maid he watched receive said letter through his window. “Did she receive it? Did you hand it off to her, I mean.” He almost shutters as those last words leave his mouth. He does not blame the maid for the startled look persisting on her face. He would not blame her if she were to forgo duty and slam the door in his face in response to his idiotic ramblings. 

The maid does not answer his questions, but to Colin’s surprise, she does not turn him away either. She merely says, “I shall go inform Miss Penelope of your presence, sir.” She closes the door gently behind her. 

Waiting for the maid to return, Colin reluctantly turns his head just enough to catch a glimpse of his own home across the way. The staff are transporting luggage down the front steps and into the viscount and viscountess’ carriage. Colin scoffs, because of course Anthony would be the first one packed and ready to depart. 

Still awaiting the maid’s return, Colin’s mind wanders to the unpacked trunk currently sitting at the foot of his bed. A sense of guilt starts to wash over him, but that feeling is cut short before it can fully blossom. The door swings open again. 

“You may follow me, sir.” 

Colin follows two strides behind the maid as she leads him towards Penelope’s private chambers. As they walk, the maid gives context to her lady’s silence these past few days. 

“Miss Penelope asked me to inform you that she has come down with a minor illness, but that she is perfectly fine.” Each step comes quicker than the last as he climbs the stairs up to the second floor. 

Of all the possible reasons behind Penelope’s silence, it had never occurred to him that she could be ill. He thinks himself an idiot. 

“She also asked me to stress that she is in high spirits and does not require an audience, but that you can speak to her, I quote, ‘If you must.’” It worries Colin that Penelope would think a statement like that would ever keep him away. 

Colin stops at the top of the stairs and clears his throat. “And what do you think of it?” he asks the maid. She seems startled by the question. 

“Of what, sir?” 

“Of her illness. I assume you have had a first hand account of it.” 

The woman does not respond at first, except with the conflicted look displayed on her face. When she does speak, her voice is notably quieter than it was just a moment before. “I am grateful someone has come to check on her.” 

Her words does not soothe Colin’s deteriorating nerves. 

He knows which door leads to Penelope’s chambers before the maid has the chance to lead the way. He can hear her coughs radiating through the wood the very moment her sage green door comes in to view. Once they reach it, the maid politely nods before disappearing down the hall. 

Colin grasps the brass door knob. Thankfully, his brain catches up with his body before he has the chance to twist it open. 

He thinks of the maid’s sudden disappearance and wonders if her absence was another order from Penelope herself. So there would be no witnesses to such an indiscretion. Colin has four sisters. He knows what to expect when he finally opens that door. The two of them being alone in a room together is scandalous as it is, let alone with Penelope being improperly dressed and laying in bed. 

But these are not normal circumstances, so he pushes those thoughts aside.

Once he hears a round of coughing finally quiet down, Colin’s hand lets go of the doorknob and knocks against the wood three times. “Come in,” Penelope’s voice, strained but unmistakably hers, calls out a moment later. 

Just as he had pictured from the other side of the doorway, Penelope is laying across the room in her bed. He can tell from where he’s standing that she has a fever; her freckled face is painted pink with a natural blush. Despite the heat emanating from her body, her sheets are pulled up nearly to her neck, ineffectively obscuring the fact that she’s wearing nothing but a nightgown beneath.

He knew exactly what to expect, but really, nothing could have prepared him for the miserable look on Penelope’s face. Her lips are pursed and quivering, likely praying that the cough in her throat won’t break through in Colin’s presence. The effort causes her blush to grow even pinker. The only feature of her face unaffected by her illness is her eyes. They’re trained on his, determined and unblinking. As if she is trying to prove her physical health with the strength of her stare alone. 

“Pen,” is all he manages to say. Unable to hold it in any longer, Penelope lets outs a coughing fit in response. 

Colin starts moving closer, his instincts telling him to be near her. To comfort her. To take care of her. To save —

“Please.” She raises a palm from her sheets to signal him to stay back. “I will not get you —” She coughs. “Sick.” 

Like Penelope, Colin refuses to drop his eyes from hers. Unlike Penelope, he is not trying to prove a point. He physically cannot look away. He fears, rationally or not, that if he turns his attention to anywhere else in the room, she will slip away while he isn’t looking. He also fears that if he allows his gaze to wander anywhere on her body other than her eyes, his vision alone will compromise her. 

Standing in his spot by the door, Colin clears his throat. “Your maid said you were ‘fine.’” He only somewhat regrets the implied accusation of deceit. Penelope rolls her eyes, effectively ending their staring contest. 

“I may be ill, but I feel perfectly fine,” Penelope says more confidently than her current coughing fit should allow. 

“You sound like Eloise when she catches a cold and does not want our mama to fuss over her.”

“I don’t want you to —” She coughs again, then runs a hand across her brow. “Why are you here, Colin?”

Penelope’s words remind him that they have found themselves in a — for a lack of a better word — peculiar situation. An unmarried man and woman alone in a room together, she dressed in nothing but a nightgown, not a chaperone in sight. It is a scandal waiting to happen. 

To the Ton, does it matter that she is sick? Does it matter that she has been abandoned by her family, the very people who are supposed to give a damn when their sister or daughter falls ill? Does it matter that he is only there to make sure that Penelope is well? To ensure that she does not suffer in solitude? To Colin, those things matter infinitely more than the opinions of the Ton. 

“I wrote you a letter. When you did not write back…” 

He had devoted several months to finding a balance while speaking with Penelope. A balance between stating what he desired and holding back what he feared would make her disappear again. Due to her illness, Penelope could not run away from him now if she tried. This makes Colin more cautious with his words than ever before. 

“I wished to see you.” 

“I am sorry about the letter. I —” she cuts herself off. “Anne, you may come in.” 

Colin nearly jumps when he realizes that Penelope’s maid has reappeared in the doorway just behind him. He had not heard her footsteps approaching. 

Colin steps aside to allow Anne entry. She carries with her a platter; a pastel yellow tea set, silver water tin, and ginger shortbread cookies all sit neatly on top. 

“Thank you, Anne. Please leave the tray on the table.”

The maid does as she’s told, placing it on the table closest to Penelope. The table, Colin observes, is too far away from the bed for Penelope to reach in her current position. Once Anne exits the room, Colin takes the opportunity to leave his spot by the wall. 

“Colin —” Penelope starts when he walks forward. 

“Please, Pen. Allow me to be of some use.” A conveniently timed coughing fit prevents her from protesting further. 

Colin clutches the table, drags it towards the bed, and positions it close enough for Penelope to reach comfortably. In the process, he just barely prevents himself from tripping over a book that had fallen onto the floor from Penelope’s side. When he picks up the kettle from the tray, he notices that there are bumblebees painted along the rim. 

Penelope looks conflicted when he hands her the peppermint tea. Her ungloved hand nearly grazes his as she takes the teacup. “Thank you,” she says, then uses her other hand to point the sofa sitting in the middle of the room. “But keep your distance. I will not risk passing my illness on to you.” Although Colin’s instincts tell him to stay by her side, he is persuaded by the guilt evident in her request. He is all too familiar with the feeling. 

Turning on his heel, he says, “Fine, but I must assert that you are greatly overestimating my ability to catch such an illness.” As he approaches the velvet settee across from her, he realizes that he had accidentally kicked Penelope’s book beneath the seat. While picking it up, he says, “I grew up with seven siblings — I traveled across the continent and back. There is not an illness out there that I have not yet encountered and beaten.” This makes Penelope laugh. 

“I am serious, Colin.” 

“As am I, Pen.” 

Guilt continues to pass across Penelope’s still blushing face as she sips her tea. Thankfully, the drink seems to lessen her cough. 

“Have you written to your mama or your sisters? Informing them of your illness?”

“No,” Penelope answers quickly. “But I called on our doctor yesterday to perform an examination here. He said I should not be alarmed, just to rest and remain hydrated.” Silently, Colin wonders how he managed to miss this doctor coming by, considering how much time he had spent staring at Featherington House yesterday. 

“Did he prescribe you anything? To alleviate your symptoms?” 

“No,” Penelope says, taking another sip of her tea. “Just rest and hydration.”

“Hmmm…” he mumbles instead of calling the doctor an idiot. 

A sharp pain momentarily pulls his thoughts away from Penelope. Colin yelps below his breath, thankfully too quiet for Penelope to hear. He looks down to see a drop of blood forming atop a fresh paper cut. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he’s been anxiously running his thumb up and down the pages of Penelope’s book ever since he picked it up a few minutes ago. He wipes the blood on the inside of his pant pocket. 

Colin examines the object in his hand. He chuckles to himself, then raises the book for Penelope to see. 

“Pride and Prejudice, huh? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you have already read this book — how many times? Three times before?” he asks her teasingly. Penelope rolls her eyes again, which Colin takes as a good sign; annoyance requires some level of strength.  

“Two times before.” 

“Ah, my mistake. Does the story change the more that you read it?” 

“No,” Penelope giggles softly, despite her best efforts. “But if you return to a book after some time away from it, you can gain a new perspective. You can observe and appreciate new details. Looking at it with a fresh set of eyes can, yes, change your understanding of the story.” 

Colin stares at her for perhaps a bit too long. He wonders if she understands just how true her words are. 

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I have not read it even once. I must know what type of novel is worthy of so many repeat visitations.” Colin opens the book to where she had left an emerald green scrap of fabric as a placeholder, but then Penelope speaks up again. 

“You can borrow it, if you like. When you leave for Aubrey Hall.” Her eyes point in the direction of a grandfather clock across the room. It is five to noon. “You said you were departing today. At noon, I believe.” 

Shit, Colin thinks. He had not thought of his impending trip since the minute he walked through the door into Featherington House. Although, he now realizes that that was the same moment that he had decided, consciously or not, that he would not find himself in Aubrey Hall anytime soon. 

“Um, no. I am set to depart tomorrow,” he regrettably lies. His gaze is fixed on the book below him as he pretends to look through its pages. 

Penelope eyes him suspiciously. “I am not in the habit of confusing small details such as dates and departures.” 

“Yes, but you are ill. You need not worry about small details such as dates and departures.” She does not look amused by his echo of her words. “The doctor ordered you to rest. I can read aloud, safely from my spot here on the sofa. You can lay there, on your bed, and simply listen.” 

“Most people consider reading a restful activity in and of itself. And with the exception of small children, traditionally it does not require a partner.” Most of her words are broken up by a cough or two. Colin wishes she would take another sip of her tea. “So I don’t see how you reading for me would help my condition.” 

“You can rest your eyes.”

She coughs again. “I believe it is my throat that needs to rest, not my eyes.” 

He laughs despite himself. “If you stop arguing with me and allow me to read, that would certainly give your throat the rest it deserves.” She rolls her eyes, another win by Colin’s measure. 

He opens the book to where Penelope had left off. Chapter 21. “The discussion of Mr. Collins' offer was now nearly at an end, and —” His words are interrupted by an exceptionally loud and exasperated sigh. 

“Stop reading. You cannot start in the middle. I shall go mad when you pause the story every other paragraph to ask me who Wickham is and why we’re surprised by his betrayal.” 

“Hey!” he exclaims, feigning true annoyance. “I will not be surprised if you keep spoiling the ending. But fine, we can start at the beginning.”

“Colin!” she exclaims, with a slight laugh that could easily be mistaken for another cough. “I am practically finished with that book, there is no point in starting over now!”

He takes another look at the book’s leather spine. Then to the matching set sitting on the table beside Penelope. 

“Volume One. You are almost finished with Volume One. Based on my previous experience with novels, there is still much story left to tell.”

“You don’t —”

“And besides, you’ve read Volume One thrice now, I don’t see how a fourth time will do you any harm.”  

As he flips to the front of the book, he steals another glance at Penelope, still shooting him a feverish glare from where she lays in her bed. “Why Pride and Prejudice? I assume a book has to be quite special to you for you to read it so often.” 

Penelope takes a moment to respond. Colin wonders if it is because she is calculating a response in her head, or if she is simply keeping her mouth shut to prevent a cough from escaping. 

“I enjoy her depiction of society,” she eventually says. 

Colin waits a moment, then quirks an eyebrow. “That’s it?” He regrets his words when Penelope coughs again. “Sorry, I — Wait. Did you say ‘her’ depictions of society? I thought the author was anonymous.” He looks down at the book in his hands again. The only credit goes to “The Author of Sense & Sensibility.”

“She is a Lady. That is the singular detail known of her identity. But even if her sex was a secret, her writing would surely betray her.”

“How do you mean?” 

Penelope takes a long sip of her tea before answering. “The way she writes… a man surely could not write an account of a woman’s place in society with such specific, astute detail.” Another sip. “And besides, it is always the women who publish anonymously. A man is far less likely to possess a reason to withhold his identity.”

“You sound like Eloise discussing Whistledown.” 

Penelope’s eyebrows raise. Colin is not sure if that is because of the mention of the infamous column writer, or the mention of her former best friend. 

“Regardless of her sex, I suppose Lady Whistledown has many reasons to keep her identity a secret,” she eventually tells him.

Colin looks away from her, just now noticing how green the room around them is. 

“Is this author’s depiction of society anything like Whistledown’s?”

“No.” Penelope laughs ever so slightly. “I would say this author is more hopeful than Whistledown.” 

“How so?” 

“Well… She certainly does not shy away from the reality of life for a young lady. But she upholds that there is a route for happiness, even if it, at times, may seem elusive.” 

“How so?” he repeats.

After a contemplative pause: “She recognizes what a precarious position it is to be an unmarried lady. The protagonist is an independent, rebellious woman. Her values oppose the rules and expectations of the society she presides in, but she is just as beholden to those rules as any other lady. She can remain unmarried, but only with the knowledge that her life will be upturned the moment her father dies. That everything in her life is dependent on the man who’s roof she happens to live under.”

From his spot on the sofa, Colin gulps. He senses a parallel between Penelope’s life and the book currently gripped in his hands. 

“It is not a fairytale, and yet it is still hopeful. Despite the dangers of potentially remaining unwed forever, Lizzy decides that she will only marry if it is for love. By all accounts, it’s an irresponsible decision, and yet she is not punished for it. She gets to live happily ever after.” 

“Pen, you have convinced me. Despite knowing how the story ends…” She laughs and Colin thinks he sees her wiping a single tear from her eye. “I must read the book at once.” 

He opens to the first page. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Colin stops reading and glances over to Penelope. “I don’t know if —” 

“That line is ironic. You would realize that if you did not interject after every sentence.” 

“Fine,” Colin says, trying to hide the smirk forming on his lips. “I shall keep reading.” 

⚘  ⚘  ⚘

Six hours later — and only a few very important, very witty interjections later — Colin’s voice drifts off as he realizes how quiet the other side of the room has become. Penelope’s coughing fits have been replaced by soft, even breaths. 

He looks down at the book in his lap. Chapter 21. Back to where they started.  

Setting the novel on the pillow beside him, Colin leaves his spot on the settee for the first time in hours. His legs feel stiff as he treads lightly towards her bed. He vaguely remembers her warning, for him to stay safely away from her. For his own good. He pushes the memory away as he kneels on the floor next to her. 

For the first time that day, she looks peaceful. The only indication that she is still ill is in the rosy hue persisting on her cheeks. Despite the voice in the back of his head advising him to leave her be — to not risk waking her — Colin finds himself lifting the back of his hand to Penelope’s forehead. He barely grazes her skin, but it’s warm enough to know that her fever has not diminished. 

All he desires is to stay in that spot all night. As if he can scare her condition away if he just keeps watch. But there’s another, more logical side to him that tells him to go. His presence was scandalous enough when she was awake — something feels wrong about remaining in her company while she lays asleep. Against his best wishes, Colin turns away from Penelope and walks towards the door. 

That’s when he remembers that he was due to leave for Aubrey Hall six hours ago. 

⚘  ⚘  ⚘

As he approaches Bridgerton House, Colin assumes that he will find the halls abandoned. That the rest of the family already departed for their country home, as scheduled. But when he walks through the entryway, he finds that he is not alone.

Benedict stands at the end of the hall, discussing something with a member of their staff. 

“Brother?” Colin calls out once the butler takes his leave. 

He regrets assuming that the entire family had left without him. In hindsight, the idea that no one would stay behind in his sudden disappearance seems preposterous. Although, the fact that Benedict was the one to stay behind and learn of his whereabouts seems just as preposterous. Anthony is far more likely to task himself with such a duty.

As he closes the distance between himself and his brother, Colin anticipates a scolding (as much of a scolding as one could receive from Benedict Bridgerton). At the very least, he expects a question as to where he had been all day. But when they meet, his brother merely offers him a suspicious smile. 

The silence unsettles Colin, so he asks: “What are you still doing here? Wasn’t your carriage supposed to depart this afternoon?”

Benedict laughs, slapping a hand lightly against his right shoulder. “I could say the same to you, brother.” He still does not ask where Colin had been all day.

“Look!” Benedict cries, breaking the increasingly awkward silence between the two of them. He pulls a leather-bound book from beneath his coat. “I retrieved my stolen sketchbook! I thought Eloise the culprit, but then I found it in Gregory’s bed chambers, the little thief.” He examines the pages, as if he was not at all familiar with the drawings etched inside. “The little bastard probably just wanted a glimpse of all the naked women.”

“Jesus, Ben —”

“You know…” Benedict pulls his attention back to his brother, looking him squarely in the eyes now. “I stepped into your quarters for a moment while searching for the damn thing. No stolen sketchbook, but I did find an unpacked trunk at the foot of your bed, mere minutes before you were set to depart for Aubrey Hall.”

Colin gulps. 

“I am no stranger to procrastination, but do we not retain a staff of people to take care of such matters for you?” 

“I dismissed them. After my travels… I prefer to pack for myself.”

“Hmm,” Benedict takes a step back, positioning his hand more firmly on Colin’s shoulder than before. “But you didn’t. Pack, that is.”

“No.” 

Colin loves his brother, he really does. But he also has the sudden desire to smack the smirk off his face. 

Unwilling to keep dancing around the truth, Colin finally asks: “Do you know where I was today?” Benedict’s snickers do not quell Colin’s sudden irritation. 

“Well… Anthony did mention spotting you walking into Featherington House earlier today.” Colin supposes that he should have suspected as much, but his eyes still grow wide at his brother’s words. Benedict snickers again. 

“Don’t look so scared. Anthony found it peculiar, but didn’t raise any particular concerns. Or tell anyone else of your whereabouts. He said something about not having the time to deal with El throwing a fit over you taking Penelope’s side in their little feud — or whatever it is going on between them.” He snickers again. “But something tells me that your little trip to Featherington House did not have to do with Eloise at all. That Anthony may have been a bit naive in thinking —”

Colin stops listening. 

In truth, Colin should be more patient. He should be glad that Benedict was the one to stay behind and entertain this conversation. Not just because of Benedict’s rather loose interpretation of the Ton’s rules, but also because of his understanding on the situation. 

Of all of his siblings, Colin supposes Benedict has the best understanding of his history with and feelings towards Penelope. At the beginning of the season, when Colin was in a perpetual glum mood and refused to explain why, Benedict was the one he eventually confided in… After Benedict had supplied him with a bottle of scotch, of course. 

Colin twists out of Benedict’s grasp, his brother’s hand now falling to his side. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I merely went over there to ensure she was well before we departed.” 

“And that took all day?” 

Colin sighs, the image of Penelope in bed, brow furrowed and skin warm with fever, pops into his head. 

“She is not well. She’s quite ill, actually.”

The smirk drops, revealing an exceedingly rare sighting of serious Benedict Bridgerton. 

“What do you mean she is ill?”

“She says she’s fine, but she has an awful cough and a high fever.”

“And her family…?” Benedict’s troubled face reveals that he does not quite know how to ask this question. Colin does not know how to answer it either. 

He bites his tongue. For a moment, he searches his mind for the right thing to say, not wanting to reveal too much information and betray Penelope’s trust. But in this moment, Colin also feels like a little boy again, completely lost and needing his older brother’s advice — or at least his approval — on what to do next. 

“Her family is gone. Her mother left her to travel to Ireland and her sisters are off with their husbands. Penelope could write to them but… She has not. She seems to think that her wellbeing is of no importance to them.”

“So she’s alone?”

Colin nods. He lets his teeth unclench from his tongue. “Before she fell ill, she told me she was planning to remain in Mayfair by herself until the start of next season.”

Benedict does not speak, seemingly still taking in all of the information Colin just unleashed on him. Eventually, his serious face is finally disrupted by the hint of a smile.

“You will not be joining the rest of the family in Aubrey Hall this coming week, will you?” 

“No. I’m sorry, but I could not possibly leave her here alone in her condition.” 

“Don’t apologize for missing out on some fun in order to take care of a friend.” Colin’s brow furrows at his use of the word “friend.” Maybe he was wrong about Benedict’s understanding of his relationship with Penelope. “I think it is admirable, how much care you show that girl.”

Benedict attempts to place another comforting hand on Colin’s shoulder, but he shrugs it away. 

“It is not ‘admirable.’ I am simply doing what is right.” 

“Sure. But Colin — be discreet. Even I know the disastrous ramifications that can occur when an unmarried man and woman are found alone in a house together. Especially for the woman.” 

“Of course.” He’s surprised Benedict feels the need to say such a thing to him.

“I will cover for you with mama and the rest of the family. Say you caught a cold and do not wish to pass along your sniffles to anyone else. You stay here, take care of Penelope.” 

Colin feels a blush on his cheeks. Unlike Penelope, he cannot blame the sudden warmth on an illness. 

“Thank you, brother.” 

The two walk in step towards the front entrance before Benedict pulls his younger brother into an unexpected hug. 

“You are a good boy, Colin Bridgerton.” 

He groans, not breaking the hug apart just yet. “I am four and twenty. I am hardly a boy.” 

“Of course. You are a good man, Colin Bridgerton.” 

A few minutes later, Colin stands on the street and watches as Benedict’s carriage drives off. His entire family has now departed for Aubrey Hall without him. 

For a brief moment, the guilt of missing yet another Bridgerton holiday creeps up on him. He had missed so many memories in the past two years due to his travels. While it was not his sole motivation behind foregoing his travels this year, Colin did feel a responsibility to make up for that lost time with his family. To make new memories for the ones he had missed. But that sense of guilt is pushed to the back of his mind when he turns his head to the side. 

His eyes focus solely on Featherington House, where Penelope remains. She needs him. That is more than enough reason for him to stay. 

[kirklandsheartsecrets]

hey! i just found your blog and i really like your writing! could i request the brothers having a bad day and starting a fight with their s/o because of their bad mood? maybe they even made s/o cry? but, pretty please with a happy ending/reconcilation? thank you so much and i hope you have a wonderful day!!

thank youuuu 🥰

i Hope you like it!

uk brothers || bad day, bad mood fights || headcanons

Northern Ireland

at the bus stop with you he was visibly irritated, upset with something.

The unusual frown on his face he worn staring at the time boards and the glares he was giving whilst looking at the other people waiting at the bus stop 😒

You poked his arm, trying to reason his attitude, whispering

"why are you glaring at them—"

He simply stopped staring at people, just looking straight in front of him

You tried to hold his hand in the bus and he just put closed his arms over his chest

You thought he was just tired so you said nothing

When you arrived at your stop he walked out like a madman

a woman in the bus told him to smile more

He just looked at her up and down disrespectfully 

He was probably ready to spat back something

You did hit his arm so he would calm down

Back home he just locked himself in the bedroom 

You came two times to check up on him

Second time he groaned and scold you to stop bothering him

You got mad

"Then alright, forget me for tonight" you slammed the door of the bedroom leaving

Immediate regrets

You called Ireland to pick you up so you wouldn’t spend the night around north’s current toxic behavior 

North was hella worried

england

you two went shopping for groceries 

arthur was weirdly silent

His face was suspiciously neutral

One minute inside the mall he started sighing all the time

He did not bother to make silent or

Big sighs while he is leaning tiredly over the cart

You were asking what kind of bread you should get because of his brother’s different tastes and—

"It doesn’t matter"

and he slightly pushed the cart away walking in the other direction 🚶 

At first you were ??? But rapidly you got mad because of his constant attitude

" What’s with this behavior ? If you didn’t want to come you should’ve just stayed at home "

He kept walking away 

You took your cart and kept on your shopping

If he wants to act like a teenager it’s not your problem, he’ll come back to the car after

When he came back to the car

" are you done with your fuss ?"

He was silent the whole ride

Scotland reasoned him out at diner for being disrespectful 

Ireland

You received your sons report card from school

Ire, has been having a bad week overall and kind of neglected his son studies

He just overlooks it and trusts him blindly

You read the report card, the comments getting worse every line.

"Come here [sons name]"

The 15 year old walked in the living room, visibly obvious to what was gonna happen to him

Ire was just having a shot, « because he had a bad day »

Your ironically say

"Are you having a good time at school ?, or should I say the holiday camp activities ?! Because from this report card I don’t really know where you go in the mornings—"

Ireland groaned at you, defending I directly the teen.

" You’re the one who drops him at school everyday— do you even know if he goes ?" You point to the hours of missed class on the report card 

Ireland sighs taking it and rips it 

"Enough— I’m too tired for this, don’t bother him more it’s his problem—" he said walking out 

Your son was just standing there 🧍‍♂️

When Ireland came back and found you asleep tears over your face he felt awful

You were just trying your best for your son and he was not doing much in return

he felt bad for complaining and acting this way so easily whilst you were also just as busy and tired and yet took the time for your son 

Wales

when he tried to park the car underground  and didn’t see the damn metal tube against the wall

Yeah the rear window

Suddenly crumbled entirely into small broken circles

His day was already shit enough

That damn broken rear window was too much 

He literally put his head over the wheel and screamed

"Honey it’s f—"

"NO IT’S NOT FINE NOTHING IS FINE"

You just turned back to your front, silently

The way he just screamed back at you broke you inside

Slowly you shook your head, the tears falling off slowly

Dylan had the time to go out check the damage back and forth and get back in 

You looked away the tears falling off from your face

When he got back in he was panting because of the screaming he was doing outside because of the car

When he finally calmed down he hugged you tightly

Patting your back again and again

Whispers non stop "sorry my love"

Scotland

"You didn’t put enough irn bru into the  dish"

"Alistair— I put as usual one cup."

"You didn’ . It doesn’t taste like i’ "

He sighed, forcing in to eat.

He looked at the dish like you were lying

"You don’t have to be rude about it Al."

His tone grew louder, "I am not rude about i’ "

"You are"

He stood up, slammed his hands over the table

Took his unfinished plate and threw the food in the trash 🗑 

You did flinched when he slammed the table, not expecting it

But the little act he was doing with throwing the food after barely eating left you speechless

He was the one complaining about being hungry and too exhausted to cook 

He wanted to eat something really specific which you helped cook 

Because he was "exhausted"

And now he is throwing it away after you spend a good hour standing up and preparing it

You were the one who should be mad

So you just cried at the table because of the shock

you head was screaming I should be the one mad and yet—

He came back to eat few hours later and you haven’t left the table, you were finishing work eating fruits 

He silently walked to the kitchen looking for left overs

He didn’t found what he needed so he ended up having yoghurt silently in front of you at the table

"I’m sorry"

"Next time you’ll cook it by yourself."

Tried to hug you after for so long because he is too awkward

[anicekidlikeme]

Fuck you, Mr. Ireland.

What I am about to do feels like opening the biggest box in a storage room full of neatly packed items. I am going to be embarassed, and teary, but it's okay. Telling stories and retelling stories is such an important impulse, and I must set her free. For whoever is able to find this atleast.

I used to laugh so much that my throat would get sore. And I feel like i was a different woman then and I am a whole other one now. Everyone makes such a big show about being sexually assaulted. They call you brave, they say it is not your fault, and whatever else is in the manual of saying all the right things. Touched, ruined, decreased in value are more like the words I would use, but fuck, sexual assault survivor works too. I still cant find the courage to tell my mother, but it is nice to daydream of a reality where she finds out, holds me tight, says its okay and its not my fault. I want her to say she likes me. But that won't happen.

Therapy helps. It's evident. I have come such a long way from not being able to shower for days, not able to leave the home of my then boyfriend, not wanting to eat. God it sucked. I learned nothing from it. And I want to honor that. I left my friends behind just to run as far away as I could from what I thought was a big danger sign with a bomb on it. It's not so graceful wishing ill on someone, but jeez, I cannot fucking help it. You know he's in Italy right now? Or Spain, or London. Im not sure. He could be fucking anywhere and he'd be standing high and mighty, with so much power over me. I truly believe that if you wouldnt wish the worst on your worst enemy, you need worse enemies. This man is my worst enemy, and sincerely, fuck him. I wonder if he thinks I won. I wonder if he did win. My brain fucking trots every day thinking about that. I get so used to feeling bad sometimes I wish I could just lay down and watch everyday pass. Not reacting.

You wouldnt believe how many hugs I have gotten from my friends since that day, but not one felt comforting. It didn't make me go wow, it feels like im ready to put this past me. To start fresh. I set such a strict deadline for myself for when i should have been fully healed, but oh my god was that a stupid idea and a giant failure. I will probably have moments of grief for the rest of my life, and you know what, I want to fucking honor that too. My boyfriend and I were joking around the other day about what the worst crime ever could be. Of course he went with murder, and its no shocker what I picked. I told him so casually, atleast you get to die and it’s all over when you're murdered. With Sexual Assault, you are a victim forever. Sorry, I meant "survivor". Fucking bullshit word.

I am working on it, and everyday is better. But if anyone would like to hold me all day, wow would that be awesome. I could use a full day of being held. For the longest time, I felt such shame asking my friends for help just for me to be able to function normally. They are truly the most patient, loving and generous people in the world. They protected my heart with such gentleness.

I wish sometimes that I had so much money that I could make everything work out for me just the way I wanted. I choose to go back to New York and live in a large large apartment with plenty of windows. I'd ask Drew if he wanted to come. We'd live close to all my friends, and host dinner parties. Enjoy the city (which you can only do with 2 mountains of cash). In a few years, we'd have a kid, and move to the suburbs. I would love to make babies with Drew. They would be so smart, kind, gentle, loving, and talented. I have never felt that way before for anyone (Sorry past boyfriends). We'd start a cute coffee shop together, and live out the rest of our days with no worry.

Im not even close to having that kind of money, but thats okay. To have people in your life that make you want to imagine your whole future with them is so special. There is no way he won.

Fuck you Mr. Ireland.

[ghostfaey]

La sparizione - chapter five

Summary: Plagued by the ghosts of her past, Riona has hidden away for centuries. That is until the call for help of a certain seer finds her and begs her to save her brother. Not knowing how her life will change, she finds her way to Volterra, directly in front of the leaders of the Volturi.

Trigger Warning: Violence, SA, blood, Death of Children, Murder, just some nasty things

<<<chapter four chapter six>>>

After I explained my gift to them, my three mates all had the look of fear in their eyes. The thought of me leaving them pained them. What they did not understand yet is that the pain they feel whenever they think of me leaving, is the same pain I feel when I think of leaving them. They do not understand that the bond works both ways. Or maybe they simply forgot. 

I must admit, I do not know what to think of this whole situation. I was always told that finding your mate is something wonderful. I was told that once you find them, you must hold them close and not let them go. Ever. Because losing them will mean your end. 

It's a weakness, honestly. Love has always been in some way. You think it makes you strong but it also makes you weak. And as a creature of the night, a creature who is immortal, almost impossible to kill, this weekness is one of our greatest.

Take them from us and we die.

I turn on my side, looking out the window in my room that I returned to after the kings have asked the guards to accompany me on the way here, leaving them to think. A pathetic attempt at making sure I would not escape.

Hours had passed, I do not know how many. The sun is slowly waking the world with it's warmth and I can hear the sounds of people waking up and getting ready for the day. 

I had spend the time reading the books that were left in the room but at some point I didn't quite enjoy the written words anymore and I lost focus. So I instead watched the world from up above. I do hope that this isn't how I spend all eternity. Bored.

A sight leaves my lips and I close my eyes. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough I can hear the kings brooding? Sadly though they must be too far. The only thing I hear is the mortals outside talking, breathing, living. Their heartbeats rushing their blood through their veins and making the burning in my throat worse.

I only had the glas of blood that Aro had given me. Before that the last time I drank must have been back in Ireland, 16 days ago.

Opening my eyes, I get up from my position on the bed and make my way to the door. I've had enough of them traping me in this room, treating me like a toy they had grown bored of. I do understand that they need time to think but leaving me alone all this time, expecting me to simply wait with no way of entertaining myself? Outrageous.

As I step out of my room I get greeted with the shadow of the giant Felix.

He looks at me as if I'd just grown a second head.

"My lady? Can I help you?", he asks me, his left eyebrow slightly raised. I smile at him.

"My apologise, Felix. It's just, I have been sitting in this room for hours now and I'm starting to get very bored.", I explain myself. "Is there a possibility for you to give me a tour around the castle? I would love to get to know this place especially if I'm suppose to stay here."

Felix seems to be not really convinced. Understandable. Afterall the kings have given him the order to stand guard in front of my room, making sure that no one gets inside. The kings surely know by now that a simple guard in front of my doors will not be able to keep me inside if I ever wanted to get out. They simply need to trust me. But what would they do to him if suddenly not only I was gone but he was gone too? I wonder how bad their punishment would be. But truthfully I wouldn't feel comfortable with getting the guard punished simply to feed my curiosity. He seems quiet nice. Not deserving of such a fate.

"My lady, the kings gave me clear orders t-" 

"I know. And I do not want to get you in trouble." My voice cuts him off as he tries to get me to drop the idea. "Which is why I will take full responsibility. They will understand, trust me."

He still looks like he would much rather have me return to my room.

He sights before he mutters: "I'm doomed. Eternally doomed." He then turns away from me starting to walk as he gives me a sign to follow him. "Follow me then. We will start with the kings personal library." I cannot surpress my giggle, being utterly amused by the tall guard.

"Thank you Felix."

I never thought of the castle as small. I always knew it was big. Bigger than one might believe. But as I make my way through the castle, following Felix' big steps and taking in every room that he shows me, I realized I underestimated the building. He has shown me every nook and cranny, making sure that I'm always behind him because I tend to lose myself in the architecture and the art pieces that litter the walls. I can tell that he wants to return me to my room as fast as possible but honestly I would be fine if he just left me in the library that he has shown at the beginning of our tour. Never in my life have I seen such many books in one room. They were all in alphabetical order, stacked in big shelves that went all up to the ceiling. I almost had to be dragged out of the room. "You wanted a tour of the whole castle, my lady. Not just the library. I'm sure you can return once I've shown you around. Maybe one of the kings will acompany you even?", the guard had spoken as he had pushed me out of the room.

The kitchen that is mainly used by the human staff had me in sickly sweet nostalgia as I got a wiff of the smell of fresh potatos, carrots, strawberries and more. It is sleep and food that I still miss, even to this day. 

When we stept in the trainingroom all eyes were on us even before the doors behind us were closed again. The word of the kings having found their mate must have gotten out. Even the Volturi seem not to be safe from word being spread too fast. That at least makes them a bit less intimidating. If I was mortal I would have sure started to blush at the attention that was on me. Fortunately there is no blood left in my veins to make this possible. 

Felix took place in front of me, shielding me from the curious eyes. 

"Cosa stai guardando? Tornare al lavoro!", he barked an immediately everyone turns their gaze back to their opponent and the room is again filled with the sound of fists hitting marble skin. 

I smile at Felix. "Thank you." He turned his head back to me. 

"The kings gave me the order to protect you. I'm sure this also applies protecting you from praying eyes.", he explaind and I couldn't help the warm feeling that spread inside of me. 

I think I like Felix, the gentle giant

Our last stop are the gardens and the fresh air that touches my skin almost makes me feel alive again. The warmth of the sun feels like the gentle touch of a lover and paints a smile on my lips. The plants and flowers are well kept so it must be they are having a gardener keeping care of it. That or one of the Volturi is having a weakspot for gardening. The thought of one of the burly guards looking after some hyacinths makes me giggle silently, though Felix still heard. He looks at me with curiosity but he does not ask.

I take a seat under one of the apple trees, it leaves casting a shadow on my pale skin. I close my eyes, listening to the humming of the bees and the singing of the birds. A gentle breeze plays with my hair and if I focus hard enough then it almost feels like home. A soft sting makes my heart ache as I think of home. How I miss the green fields, the powerful waves that crash against the cliffs, the soltitude. I miss the comfort of my little hut. Standing alone, far away from civilization. I miss the smell of my drying herbs and the creaking of the old wooden planks. Will I ever return? Will I ever see this place that holds so many memories and emotions again? If it's up to the kings then most definitely not. And honestly I do not want to leave them and go through the pain that will be left. But the castle walls are awefully high and the stone that they're made of is icecold to the touch. This land is strange and home is so far away.

The sound of foodsteps wakes me from my deep thoughs. I do not open my eyes even as they come to a stop right in front of me. The smell of a summer storm and fresh paint tickles my nose and suddenly the warmth of the sun feels cold in comparison to the warm feeling that surrounds my heart. 

"You may return to your post, Felix.", the sharp voice of the youngest looking Kings speaks. The presence of the tall guard next to me vanishes and I feel quiet sad about not even having said goodbye, although I'm sure I will see him soon again.

I still ignore Caius standing in front of me, wanting nothing more than for him to leave me alone just like he did the last couple hours. Why does he need to interupt me now that I'm enjoying myself? Couldn't he have come to me when I was still sitting alone in my room, bored out of my mind?

"I was looking for you.", he says and I imagine the frown that is probably adorning his face right now, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

I hum, still not giving him the attention that he wants. 

"The next time you decide to wander around the castle, be as kind to inform us of your plans. It's quiet a waste of time having to look for you." 

I pull open my eyes, an angry glare in them. I knew before that the person in front of me is not more than a kid, hiding behind the face of a grown man, but how can he be this delusional? Acting as if he owned me, like a pet dog that needs to follow every of his commands.

In less than a second I stand right in front him, patheticly only reaching up to his shoulders. But I do not care. He should start to take me serious despite him thinking that I'm nothing more than a toy he can play with until he loses interest only to then toss me away. 

"A waste of time? I never asked you to come and look for me.", I hiss. "You and your brothers have been leaving me alone in this stuffy room for hours, not bothering to check up on me once, not sending anyone to look for me, not asking for me, nothing. Why am I so important all of a sudden? Because you noticed I won't just wait for you until you decide I'm good enough for you to play with me?"

With every word that leaves my lips his eyes get wider and his jaw clenches more. The comfortable heat surroundet my heart just moments ago turns into heat of anger and it feels like I'm burning from the inside out. 

How dare him thinking he can treat me like that. How dare them all. Why do I even bother staying here? Why do I even try to give them a chance when obviously they do not care enough to try and treat me with respect? 

The pain of missing my home grows by every second and now more than ever do I wish to stand in front of the cliffs and look down into the roaring sea, tasting the salt on my tongue, hearing the seagulls, smelling the freedom in the air. I could just return back home...

"I am no toy nor dog. I am not something you can own. You might think you stand above anything and everything but you are not my king. You never will be."

With those words I call out to the mist and let it surround me. Caius opens his mouth to speak but as I vanish right in front of him he stops and looks around, trying to figure out where I'm located.

"You will not just run away like a little kid! You want to be treated with respect then act like an adult!", he calls out. "Riona! You will return this instant!"

I hear his words but I already turned away from him, making my way back inside the castle.

"An áit thíos atá ceapaithe duit, a dhiabhal.", I mutter as I can still hear the foolish king behind me, shouting curses and orders, spending his oh so precious time calling out to someone that is no longer there. 

[fruit-teeth]

Chronicles of Love and War (chapter 29) (part 1)

(This chapter will be split into two parts on Tumblr ONLY due to the word limit. Part two will be posted immediately after this.)

Olivia had no idea that the afternoon she was spending at Saxton Hale's cottage would only last for a few more minutes.

She and Lucy sat at a table in the kitchen, munching on some pizza while messing with a cassette player. Apart from playing board games, there wasn't much else to do. However, Hale had discovered some vintage music in one of his rooms, which he let the girls listen to. 

“It’s pretty,” Lucy remarked after a moment. “What kind of music it?”

Standing beside the table, Hale replied, “It’s…folk music, I think it’s called? It was my mother’s, she loved this kind of music.”

“My mommy likes it, too!” Olivia chimed in. “She likes music from Ireland, that’s where she said my grandpa was from.”

What happened next happened extremely quickly. Lucy started to say something, but her voice seemingly got cut off by what sounded like a rough cough. Lucy's chair scraped across the kitchen floor just as Olivia turned away to pick up another cassette.

“What is it?” Saxton Hale asked Lucy, but she did not respond. Olivia looked up in time to see Lucy staring blankly ahead while walking out the kitchen door.

“Lucy?” Bidwell called out from where he sat in the living room, watching as Lucy walked towards the front door. 

Olivia could only watch, her heart racing. “She’s doing it again,” she managed to say, voice wavering in confusion and fear. Had she said something to upset Lucy? What could have possibly set her off?

Saxton didn’t seem to understand what this meant, so he followed Lucy to the door. “Where are you going? Come back!”

He put his hand on Lucy's shoulder and she spun around, screaming at him, sending him reeling backward. 

In an instant, Lucy sprinted out of the house, leaving Saxton extremely confused. Olivia ran to the door, halting and watching in horror as Lucy disappeared into the distance. She didn’t know what to think, or what to do, but Bidwell ran to the phone and quickly punched in a few numbers. 

“We need to go after her!” Saxton exclaimed, but Olivia grabbed him by the leg to stop him. 

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, she’s gonna hurt you! We need to call her dad!”

“Olivia, I’m calling your mother, don’t worry!” 

Less than a minute later, Helen answered. “What?”

"Hey, Lucy just ran out, and she's acting strange!" Bidwell said, motioning for Olivia to approach.  We didn’t do anything to set her off, it just happened!”

“Bidwell, get Olivia to a safe place right now,” Helen’s voice sounded low and urgent as she spoke. “I’ve gotten word from the base, and I know why this is happening. There’s not much you can do for Lucy now, trust me – just keep Olivia inside, I mean it!”

“What are you talking about?” Bidwell asked, feeling his heart rate go up even quicker. “What’s going on over there?”

“We’re all in danger, I’ll explain more later!” Helen instructed, right before she hung up. 

Olivia finally snapped out of her shock, running to the door. “Lucy! Come back!”

“Olivia, no!” Bidwell ran ahead of hers and slammed the door, locking it before she could try and leave. “You’re staying here until we figure out what’s going on!”

Olivia tried to push past Bidwell to get a better look through the window, but she couldn’t see Lucy anymore. Tears burned her eyes, but she desperately fought them back. 

“Was this my fault?” she wondered aloud, barely aware of her own voice. 

"Don't worry, we'll figure it out," Saxton Hale tried to soothe her, though he didn't sound very confident. 

At the same time, the sky up above was soon swarming with black clouds. Merasmus could only stare at the clouds for a few seconds, wondering if Lucy, his beloved Lucy, had fallen to The Corrupt's power. 

"How do we stop her!?" Soldier shouted from where he'd blocked Zelda's passageway with chairs and other broken debris. 

“Let me think!” Merasmus shouted back, gnarled hands quaking. At last, she spun around to look at Soldier and the others gathering just in front of the safe room doors. 

“This might be a bad idea,” he began. “But perhaps we can stop the destruction by heading to Coldwater Cave! I can perform another stasis cocoon spell and seal it back up that way,”

"Hey, you did that with her already, genius!" Scout grunted, gesturing to the barricade where the enraged howls of the Corrupted Zelda could be heard. “Look how well that turned out!”

“Jeremy, that’s not helping!” Angelica scolded him, although from the look on her face, it seemed as though she wanted to yell at Merasmus too. 

“We don’t have another choice!” Merasmus shouted back at Scout. “We have to try!”

Spy's heart pounded as he returned his gaze to Scout and Angelica, observing Angelica's shoulder wound and his son's anxiety. However, as he remembered the hospital attack, he was reminded of something he'd overheard Lazarus and Dr. Handy say.

“Fairy magic,” Spy blurted out suddenly. 

Hearing this, Merasmus shot him a confused look. “What?”

Spy explained, “Fairy magic! Those men at the hospital said that fairies have light magic, which can affect demons! If we can find the fairies, perhaps they’ll have something that can help us!”

“I won’t allow that, we don’t have time!” Merasmus barked. “Besides, you saw what the fae is capable of! If we get on their wrong side, it could make things even worse!” 

Something shook the building, something deep and akin to thunder, and Merasmus spoke again. “I am going to Coldwater Cave, and I will teleport there with anyone here who wants to go! Act quickly, for I am not wasting another second here!” 

The safe room door unexpectedly flung open, revealing Zhanna, who had definitely been eavesdropping on the other side.

“I will go with you,” she spoke, looking towards Merasmus. 

Zelda’s screaming on the other side of the door got even louder, and Heavy exclaimed, “Sister, no! You must get back in the room, it is not safe!”

"She wants me!" Zhanna pointed to the area where Zelda was attempting to break down the barricade. “She will not get me if I go to the cave!” 

“She has a point,” Sniper agreed. “But someone else has gotta go with you!” 

Soldier dashed over to Zhanna and wrapped his arms around her, clutching her firmly. “Teleport us both with you, Merasmus!” Soldier shouted.

Merasmus was about to snap his fingers and teleport with Soldier and Zhanna when a section of the barricade fell. Bea stood there instead of Zelda, and Zhanna had never seen such an expression of rage on her face. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Bea suddenly sprinted towards where the three stood, axe in hand. Right at that moment, Sonya threw herself into the path of the other woman, knocking the axe to the floor.

“Take her now!” Sonya gasped out to Merasmus as she pinned Bea to the ground. “Keep my daughter safe! Please!” 

Merasmus snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving with Soldier and Zhanna. Sonya exhaled a sigh of relief at the sight, only to be startled back into reality as Bea released her hand and punched her across the face.

Sonya recovered quickly, situating her hands on Bea’s jaw and shoving her back into the ground. “I have killed men your size and larger!” she spat at her, just inches away from Bea’s scarred face. “You will die a second time at my hands!”

“Go ahead!” Bea spat back. “You saw my sister over there! She’s become more powerful than you, and if you kill me, that’ll be a death sentence for you and your family!”

“Oh, wow,” Lar-Nah scoffed from where she stood nearby. “That’s brave of you, just get your big sister to fight your battles for you,”

“Shut the hell up!” Bea hissed up at her. “She’s been there for me my whole life, not that you would know anything about that!” “She’s turned into a bloody demon!” Demoman shouted back. “You’re not going to get her back after this! She did it for you! Are you happy, you old bat!?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t killed off my whole team, this wouldn’t be happening right now!” Bea fired back, yanking her hands up to get them free from Sonya’s grip. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice caught Bea dead in her tracks: “Bea?!”

Bea blinked a few times, thinking she’d misheard something. Sonya looked over her shoulder and saw Fred standing there. She let go of Bea just a little bit at the sight. 

Fred assessed the situation before he managed to say, “What the hell did you get into?”

Bea couldn’t find her voice for a few seconds. Slowly, she got up and walked towards him. When she was in front of him, she cautiously touched his shoulder to confirm that it was really him.

“You’re alive?” she said finally, her voice coming out in a breathy, broken way. 

“Sure am,” Fred confirmed. “Bea, Zelda lied to you and said I died. She put me in a coma inside a hospital so that I couldn’t come and find you, or anyone! She’s been doing all this so she can keep you all to herself, don’t you get it? That’s what she’s always done!”

Bea was at a loss for words yet again, so she followed her instincts and put her arms around Fred, drawing him in for a tight hug. He returned her hug, and it felt as though they were back in the good old days when everything made sense. 

When Bea lifted her head, she was sobbing silently, tears rolling down her aged face. “Why didn’t I see it?” she said finally. “I got a second chance at my life, something almost no one ever gets…and she’s making me waste it on…this!” She stepped back and looked at the destruction, and all she could do was shake her head. “This has been going on forever, how was I so…!?”

Fred, blinking back tears in his own eyes, put his hand on her shoulder. “Look, don’t blame yourself,”

“I think she deserves a little bit of blame, Pa,” Engineer whispered to Fred, his tone slightly annoyed. 

Fred gave him an irritated look. “That ain’t the time for this, boy,” he turned back to Bea. “There’s not much we can do not except try and beat this thing!” 

Suddenly, there was a crash. With a twisted smile on her face, Zelda's body coiled around a newly collapsed portion of the barricade.

“I’m coming, Bea!” she crooned, her voice sharp as knives. “All will soon be well!”

Bea ran over and grabbed a few more chairs, shoving them in Zelda’s path to hold her back. “No! This is over, it ends now!” 

Zelda recoiled as if genuinely hurt by the action. “Bea!?” 

Bea paused for just a moment, studying her sister’s face. Not her, just a body. An angry and vile spirit had seized her body, overwhelming whatever remained of the girl who had raised her. In a way, she felt guilty: it was all her fault. All of this might have been avoided if she had been more watchful and had prevented Zhanna from killing her in the first place. And yet…it was not her fault. Logically, she knew that Zelda had always been overbearing, so all of this was bound to happen. She missed the happy days of her childhood when she and Zelda lived with Lorenzo at the Italian restaurant before everything went wrong. The person she truly missed was the one her sister had been before. 

Zelda’s hands suddenly shot forward, grabbing Bea by the shoulders and trying to drag her away. “You’re coming with me!” Rage and pain oozed from Zelda’s breathy words as she attempted to lead Bea away. “The others will be here soon, and you can join them like I have! The pain of the thorn gives ways to powers you could only dream of!” 

Bea screamed, trying to pry her away. “No! No, I’m not becoming like you! Get away!” 

Bea looked up to see Pyro standing beside a maintenance closet they had opened and making frantic movements towards the inside. In an instant, Bea understood what was being said, so she spun Zelda around and threw her straight into the closet. 

Pyro swiftly locked it, and Bea grabbed a chair to put up beneath the handle to keep the door shut. She knew it wouldn’t hold her sister for long, but it was a start. 

A pause followed. Finally, it was Engineer who said, “So…are you with us, now?”

“I don’t…” Bea trailed off, wincing at the sound of her sister’s nails scratching against the door in an attempt to escape. 

“She has tried to kill my sister many times! No!” Heavy barked from where he stood. 

“No one’s perfect,” Fred pointed out, only to step back when Sonya turned around and glared at him. “Um…sorry.” 

Just then, footsteps ran down the corridor, followed by Miss Pauling's distinct voice. “Is everyone all right!?” 

“Miss P!” Scout ran to meet her, moving aside some things so she could step through. “We’re mostly okay, we got the old bitch locked up in there!” 

There was a loud thump from the closet, followed by shrieking. “She probably won’t stay in there for much longer,” Sniper pointed out, grimacing. 

Miss Pauling looked around in a flurry of confusion. “Where’s Merasmus?”

“Not here, left with Soldier and Zhanna,” Heavy explained. “They went to stop demons from leaving cave!” 

“He left you here alone with her!?” Miss Paulng exclaimed, before gesturing for the group to follow her. “Quick, we should evacuate everyone right now! I see a very bad situation developing if we continue to stick around here!” 

[winterwrites23]

How does the weather effect the UK bro's?

Average weather doesn't affect the brothers (as well as the rest of the Nations). Most of them are old as dinosaurs so they grew accustomed to their climate and are in tune with its changes. In fact, they can predict the weather with pretty good accuracy. Though that doesn't stop them from complaining like cranky old men whenever it's raining again or looking in disbelief when the sun is out for more than 20min lol

It's slightly different for younger nations. The weather affects them a bit more because they are still learning to balance the Land and the People. And since the Land is tied to nature, then whenever the weather gets above average, it will affect the Nation either mentally or physically (shifting in moods, tiredness, restlessness, etc.)

However, when there's a sudden change in the climate (hurricane, heat wave, snowstorm, floods, etc.), both old and young nations will be affected. They get tense and on edge because they feel the damage across their Land and are even prone to get sick. And with climate change steamrolling the world in the last few decades, let's just say Nations aren't having a great time.

[footballxposts]

Sleeping With The Enemy - Jack Grealish Series❤️‍🔥 (Chapter Two) Curiosity

Warnings: just some more sexual tension for now hehe but y’all better be ready for the next few chapters cause god damn 🥵

Recommended listening: Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande (Slowed).

Quick A/N: if you can’t understand Scottish slang a will translate for you in the comments

Taglist: @storyofavengers @hotyeehawman

——————————————————————————

The rest of my first day working in Aston went much better than I had initially expected. We only had a few minor injuries so I spent most of my time just going through all the players files, mainly looking over their medical history and current rehabilitation plans. That being said, I found it so hard to concentrate as the only thing I could think about throughout the entirety of it was Jack’s words. They were etched on my mind like the winner of a tournaments name being engraved on a trophy. I was extremely thankful Alan had came back into the room when he did, because I really had no idea how to respond to Jack’s comment and to be quite honest, I wasn’t really sure I wanted to.

Now arriving back at Bodymoor Heath training grounds for what was going to be my second day, I tried my best to find a parking space. Spotting one, I positioned my car and took the keys out of the ignition. Just as I was grabbing my things so as that I could make my way into work, I noticed a familiar face walking across the car park and quickly ducked my head so that he wouldn’t see me. But he did. And instead of walking towards the building’s entrance, Jack Grealish was now headed towards my car.

He lightly tapped the window as I pretended to look for something. Giving me space to open the door he quickly stepped away. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest. What did he want? I’ll tell you what I wanted. I wanted to avoid him as much as possible so I wasn’t put in another awkward situation with him, but he really wasn’t making it at all easy. Stepping out and closing the door behind me, he began walking beside me.

“So how’s my girl Ella this fine morning?” he asked, his eyes watching me every step I took.

“Your girl?” I questioned back in a slightly nervy manner, trying to speed up.

“Come on, you know what I mean.” he teased, a smirk now spreading across his face.

“Uh no actually I don’t, because we’re not friends Jack.” I sighed, attempting to pull the door of the premises open but he had got there before me and was now holding it out wide for me.

“Oh really?” he raised his eyebrows in response. “What are we then?”. I hated to admit it, but his accent was honestly so damn attractive too, though I wanted to believe I only thought so because I had watched too much peaky blinders and he reminded me of Tommy Shelby. Standing in front of me and stopping me in my tracks to prevent me from moving any further, I gave him one of those ‘seriously?’ glares.

“Nothing.” I stated. “We’re just work colleagues. That’s it. Just two professionals getting on with their morning, or at least I’m trying to but someone is in the way.” His reaction was comical. Lightly scoffing with a small chuckle, he took a step closer to me, almost closing the distance between us. I was shaking like a leaf internally. He honestly made me so nervous, as if my anxiety didn’t already do a good enough job of that. I gulped as he parted his lips and got the final word in.

“Maybe.” he began. “But I’m hoping to change that sometime soon.” Giving me a smug wink, he moved out of the way and began walking down the corridor the opposite way. I stood there for a few seconds, which felt more like minutes, trying to process what he had just said. He was a very attractive man, and there was no denying it. But was he actually being serious? Only my second day here, and he’s already hitting on me like I’m a piece of fresh meat. Was this what he done with every new girl that started working here? And how many other females in the vicinity was he currently doing this with? Did he just think every girl would fall at his knees and give him what he wanted? And what made him assume I would? Or that I even wanted to? Feeling slightly nauseous at all thoughts and questions now racing through my mind, I shook my head and made my way to my section of the workplace.

A few hours had gone by of assessing more injuries and whatnot, and before I knew it, it was now lunchtime. Making my way to the canteen, a friendly face appeared beside me, this time being one I was more than happy to see. It was midfielder John McGinn, who I had had in the clinic earlier on that morning. He and I maintained a good conversation about various different things, mainly about Ireland and Scotland’s relationship. Now holding the door open for me, he perked up.

“Hello.” he smiled softly.

“Oh John, hi, everything alright?” I beamed back at him.

“Aye yeah no a wis just wondering if you wanted tae come have lunch with me since your friend isn’t in today and you probably don’t want to sit with Alan and stuff?” he asked with a strong Scottish accent and a hopeful look on his face. He was referring to Samantha, the girl I had met yesterday who worked as a nutritionalist. She had told me how happy she was to have a female the same age as her working at the grounds to and offered for me to come sit with her at lunch, to which I accepted but she had took a sick day today meaning I would probably have to sit and have lunch by myself.

“Oh okay, yeah.” I replied, “Thank you, that would be nice.”

The little grin that spread across his face as he opened the canteen door for me was the cutest. “Great, no problem.” he responded as I began to enter the large dining hall. We made our way over to the food court to get something to eat. Joking and laughing, I was caught in my tracks by a very serious looking Jack, who was now staring at us from where he was seated at one of the tables. Ignoring him, I diverted my attention back to the lunch lady who was placing my vegetarian lasagne back on my tray.

“Oh, sorry thank you.” I said, expressing my gratitude and moving on to get a drink at the end of the counter.

“Vegetarian huh?,” John raised his eyebrows at me.

“Umm yeah aha, I kinda have been for the past seven years or so.” I chuckled.

“Kinda? Whit ya mean by kinda?” He questioned.

“Well.” I began. “I eat chicken, but I don’t eat any other meat or poultry.” Giving me the biggest look of judgement he could muster up, he began to crack up. “No way! Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I know I know. It’s a bit of a weird one to be honest but it is what it is.” I muttered shyly.

“Naw naw, each to their own am no saying anything. But isn’t there a name for that itself?” he queried.

“Yeah pollotarian, but everytime I say that everyone tells me it’s not at real thing and I’m a nutcase and stuff. Besides, a pollotarian is supposed to eat all poultry and I don’t.” I answered, as we sat down at a free table.

“Aye well a canny say a dinnae agree with them.” he teased as the two of us broke out laughing. John was so sweet and wasn’t unattractive either, but even when it came to him I wanted to remain strictly professional. Jack’s eyes were still fixated on us with what I could only assume was jealousy and envy growing in them. Having enough, I watched as he forcefully stood up out of his chair and walked away out of sight.

“What’s his deal?” I asked John who now had a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. “Who? Grealish?” he replied as soon as he had swallowed it. Nodding anxiously, he rolled his eyes and giggled again. “Ah, Jacky-boy, whit can a say? Serious baller, great hair, great legs. But a flirt and a wee heartbreaker anaw.”

“Oh really, how so?..” I lamented.

“Ah, it’s no really for me to say sorry darlin, but am sure one of his previous conquests could fill you in if your paths cross. He’s no a bad guy, just done some silly things if you get me? How come you’re asking anyways?” he interrogated, nudging me with his elbow.

“Oh I was just wondering..” I trailed off.

“Naw, no way. Has he already tried tae make a move on you?”, an amused look now appearing on his face.

“Not exactly, but I think he’s planning to try to.”

“Aye right a see. Well, word to they wise, as much as a love Jack, if you’re looking for something serious, he’s no the way to go about getting it. A wid focus on your work if a were you.”

To indicate that I understood, I nodded slowly. But why did part of me also feel slightly disheartened and disappointed? I kept trying to remind myself that Jack Grealish was the ultimate no go; not only because I had only started working here and I wanted to keep everything strictly professional, but also because I don’t think I could every forgive myself, let alone my country or the world if they knew. He was supposed to be the enemy. Well, not so much the enemy, but the traitor and rival. However, there was just something about him that made me want to do so many things that I know shouldn’t.

After finishing lunch, I said goodbye to John and set about returning to the clinic. As I exited the canteen door, I felt an arm grab me and pull me into an empty office. Struggling to make out who it was initially, the smell of cologne mixed with sweat that was becoming overly-familiar helped me to quickly register.

[imkylotrash]

Hidden Truths

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader (Platonic)

Summary: Can you write something where the reader learns she was kidnapped at birth and Hardin helps her through the trauma? Anonymous

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, trauma, mentions of miscarriage. Let me know if there are more. 

A/N For this one Hardin stayed in England with his mom. Also one of the hardest concepts I’ve ever tried writing. 

It starts out as a joke. You just want to know more about your ancestors and there’s this trend going around that you send in your DNA and it tells you all about where you come from. The 5% Ireland doesn’t surprise you. Frankly, you expected that part. It’s the 80% Canadian that surprises you. Your family hasn’t left England for centuries. You did a family tree as a school project in 3rd grade and you know your roots are English and somewhat Irish. Why would the test tell you that you’re from Canada? 

“Mom? Do we have any family in Canada?” Her hesitation last only a moment but you notice it all the same. 

“No, honey. We’ve never even been to Canada.” Your mom has a tell. She always lift her right eyebrow slightly whenever she’s lying to you. It’s something you picked up along the way when you watched her lie to her clients. Over the next few days you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something about Canada you need to discover. 

“Maybe you’re adopted?” Hardin speculates. You’re lying on his bed while he’s placed himself in his desk chair. 

“Don’t say that. My parents are my parents.” 

“It’s possible. You said your mom had a weird reaction.” You hate that he’s making sense. You don’t want to believe that you’re adopted. This family is all you have and to find out it may be based on a lie would destroy you. 

“But if they won’t tell me anything, I’ll never know.”

“So quick to give up?” Hardin asks with a smirk turning his laptop on. You can hear his mom rummaging downstairs and you wonder if she knows something. If maybe your mom told her something over a cup of coffee while 10-year-old you and Hardin played out in the yard. 

“We could always look it up. Maybe you can access your file. If you have one.” He starts searching google for adoption agencies in Canada and even though you’re not remotely ready to consider you might be adopted, you still peek over his shoulder to see what he finds. 

“If there is a file, it’s probably closed. I mean, all the shows always say those kind of cases are closed.” 

“You mean TV-shows?” he chuckles not even looking up, “what the hell?” In an instance, you’re right next to him. 

“What? What is it?” It’s an old article of a baby that was kidnapped. You look at the date only to realise that it’s your birthday. The baby was kidnapped the same day you were born. But that’s not the weirdest part. It’s the photo of what the baby would approximately look like now. It’s the spitting image of you. The article mentions a birthmark on the hip. The exact same place as your birthmark. 

“This is seriously freaky,” Hardin comments. You tell him to close the article and pretend you didn’t find it. It’s too much information and you need to talk to your parents. But when it comes down to it, you’re too scared. It takes you weeks before you feel ready to do something. You’re terrified of the truth, of realising that your parents not only weren’t your biological parents, but that they kidnapped you as a baby. Who even does that? 

“I think I need to find out,” you tell Hardin one day. He buys plain tickets to Canada within an hour. You lie to your parents as you’re packing your bag hoping that the universe forgives you. It’s not that you want to lie to them, but they’re not being truthful and you don’t trust them to tell you. In less than 24 hours you’re standing at the Canadian airport trying to catch a taxi. You don’t even know what you’re going to tell these people but all too soon you’re standing at the address mentioned in the article. 

“I’m right here next to you. Just say the word and we’ll get out of here.” You’re so thankful for his support even if you don’t have the words to tell him right now. You knock on the door and your possible birth mom opens up. Her reaction is instant. Tears fill her eyes. 

“Oh God,” she whispers almost reaching out to touch you. 

“I found an article online of a baby that was kidnapped.” You hold up the picture with shaking hands. This may be nothing but you need to know. You need to know if you were robbed of this childhood. She invites you in for tea and you accept. Hardin is right behind you the entire time making you feel safe despite everything that’s happening. You’re pretty sure if he hadn’t come with you, your sanity would jump out the window. You try to keep the conversation with Diana light because you’re not ready to dive into the serious stuff just yet. At some point, her husband Joseph comes home from work. They’re nice people. At the end of the day, you have to return to England but you get their information to stay in touch. You want to stay longer but you’re also itching to return and confront the people who took you. Anger fills you when you think of the childhood taken. You agree to leave them a strand of hair for a DNA test so you all can get the answers you so desperately crave. It isn’t until Heathrow airport that you break down. It comes sudden and overwhelms you. Hardin holds you tight as you break apart. He keeps shushing you as he leads the two of you to the taxi outside. 

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup through the sobs but he just shakes his head. There’s zero judgement in his eyes and it isn’t until you’re parked in front of your house that you realise he still hasn’t let go of you. How did your life turn into an episode of Criminal Minds? 

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asks. Maybe you should be scared to go confront them but the need for answers overshadow all the other feelings. You have to know and for some reason, you feel sure they won’t harm you. 

“I think I have to do this alone.” So you hug him one last time before entering the house on your own. 

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” So apparently the lie didn’t last that long. 

“I went to visit Diana and Joseph. My birth parents.” You could hear a pin drop. They both stand still in utter shock. 

“Anyone want to tell me why I was kidnapped?” You’re angry and hurt and terrified but you need to have this conversation in an attempt to find some peace. What you don’t expect is your mother to sit down with tears streaming down her face while your father places a hand on her shoulder. 

“I had three miscarriages. It was horrible. After the third one, I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t go through the pain of losing a baby again. Instead we started looking at adoption agencies but it was expensive. There was no way we could afford it.” Shame dominates her features as she tells the story. You try to hold on to your anger but you’re looking at a broken woman. She’s unable to continue so your dad takes over. 

“We finally found an agency that offered their services to a price we could afford. It was very discreet and we received no information. We didn’t know until after we got you. We never would’ve accepted it if we knew. You have to believe that. But when we heard about the missing baby, we’d had you for almost two months. And we couldn’t give you up. So we closed eyes and ears to everything on the news. In the end, we managed to convince ourselves that it wasn’t you.” It’s too much. You want them to be the villains who stole you away from your real life but you just feel sorry for them. Everything they went through. There’s no arguing that what they did was wrong and awful but they just look so sad and small standing before you. 

“I need some air.” You don’t even look back but instead head straight out where you find Hardin. 

“I know you said you wanted to do this alone but I figured you’d might need company.” There’s no hesitation as you walk into his arms. You have no idea what the future will bring. You want to know your birth parents. And you have no idea what to do with the people who raised you. It’s all just too much for you to comprehend right now. But you do know that Hardin will be right there through everything. In the chaos, he’s your constant and you’re forever thankful. 

[karimac]

…Turn of the Wheel: If only in my dreams

Dedicated to my mother, a member of the US Women’s Army Corps during and after World War II, who played “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” on a tiny Victrola in her German barracks as she thought of her family back in Wisconsin.

Warnings: pretty much none on this one. Maybe a tiny bit of angst and a ton of fluff

A/N: I have no idea which Avengers might be musically inclined, so I sort of made up a bit of that thanks to the fact, as far as I know, Chris Evans plays piano, Paul Rudd plays drums and Jeremy Renner plays guitar. I do not play any instruments, so if I muff something, my apologies in advance.

Hickory, the cat mentioned in this story, was my cat who passed away several years ago. I miss his sunny little self.

This has not been beta read, so all mistakes are my own.

Word count: 5.8K

Banner artwork credit: Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Team Cap had been on the run for the better part of forever it seemed as the calendar suddenly got to the final month of the year. The thought of not being somewhere at least a tad less grungy than the hotels you all had been hiding out in made your stomach churn. You knew Sam would have loved to be back in Louisiana with his sister Sarah, and Steve wanted nothing more than to check in on Bucky in Wakanda and bring him a tiny bit of normalcy and Christmas cheer.

“What’s eating you?” Natasha asked as you looked out of the window of the hotel where you were currently holed up. “Too much cheesy commercialism out there for you?” she added as she pulled back the curtain and gazed at the street below where kids were running up to a corner Santa who was standing in front of a small local department store.

“No, Nat, just the opposite,” you said as you got up from your window seat and started to pace the worn floorboards of the room you were sharing at the moment. “And I need to fix it by Christmas Eve if I can. I may not be able to get Bruce or Thor here, and Tony and Rhodey are never going to agree to this, but I’ll see who I can muster…”

“Whoa. Slow down a second,” the Widow said as you started to pace a little more frantically. “Fix what? Do you mean the Accords?”

“No, I mean Christmas. This is just wrong,” you muttered as you reached for your jacket and backpack before opening a portal. “I’ll be back. I have to make sure my old safe house is still, well, safe.”

“Wait!” Natasha said as your portal snapped shut behind you. You were not about to be talked out of this one.

“What do you mean you have a safe house? Are you suddenly Nick Fury’s best girl?” Sam asked as you looked at him, Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Vision. Your arms were crossed, and you were pissed beyond words at the comment. You never told them about how you and Nick met in the first place, and now was not the time to do it. So you grunted and started to open a portal.

“If I might ask, will we be getting any of your family in trouble if you do this, Miss MacOrish?” Vision asked as you stopped and let the portal slowly close.

“Vision, my blood family died out a very long time ago, and I am going to make sure we go nowhere near anyone who means anything to me at the moment. Sorry, but the compound in Ireland is off limits for now. Maybe one day I’ll get to take you all back home. I’d like that.”

“Then where is this safe house exactly?” Steve asked as you opened the portal fully this time and motioned for the others to step through it. “Where it needs to be,” you said with a wink as there was a shout of “Steve!” from the middle of the room. “Bucky?” Rogers asked as he looked at you, and all you could do was smile as he ran to his childhood friend.

The look on both men’s faces was worth all the time you had spent in your safe house tucked in a little corner between space and time. Bucky looked more rested, but he still had only one arm, so you wondered how things were actually going in his deprogramming and rehabilitation. You’d never pry, but you prayed he was making progress and would soon be leading whatever life he wanted and not what governments or madmen demanded of him.

“I still do not understand how this works, brother,” Shuri could be heard saying as she walked with T’Challa, Okoye and Ayo toward where Steve and Bucky stood chatting. “We are still in Wakanda, but we aren’t.”

“What did you do?” Natasha asked as you leaned against a wall near the portal and snapped your fingers. The room, which had been rather dark and plain looking until this point, suddenly burst into light as a tree laden with gifts stood in the far left corner. A table covered with more than enough food for this small army was on the right side of the room, and it would have made your family proud to witness this gathering.

There were plush chairs, sofas and small tables with candles dotting the room, and a fireplace was crackling with a warm glow, but everyone just stood there looking at you, waiting for an explanation of how and why this was actually happening.

“I told Natasha I wanted to fix Christmas, so I did, just not as much as I wanted to…” you said as your usual jeans, scuffed boots and sweater were replaced by a more holiday appropriate short dress of green velvet. “Sam, I couldn’t risk bringing any family members here. I’m sorry.”

“I’d rather keep Sarah safe,” Sam said as you gave him a hug.

“But, we can work on a way to get you two in the same place when you feel it is safe,” you sighed as you tried not to cry at the thought of the siblings being separated. “I did manage to get these two here with little trouble, at least for a few hours.”

“She’s crazy, but I’m glad she did this!” Clint Barton yelled as he ran over and gave Nat a hug, and Scott Lang just stood to the side, shaking his head as he looked to see that his ankle monitor was still functioning.

“I told you how this works, guys. You are not breaking any rules on my watch,” were the only words you got out before Steve walked over and put his hand on your shoulder. “How did you do this?” he asked as he shot you one of his patented “I’m an old man, so indulge me” looks. The fact he was really a kid in comparison to you made you chuckle.

“It’s simple magical metaphysics,” you said with a smirk as you pointed toward a table with drinks on it. “The Science Brothers do not have the market on cool things, Steve. I just made sure my pocket dimension vault extended to Wakanda, Clint’s farm and Scott’s house. I do have one corner in New York as well so I can get things from my bakery as needed. And yes, a tiny bit is in Ireland. If you look out that window over there, that is my family home in Kildare. I needed it to be anchored to a place that means the world to me and to my better portion. I just can’t walk you into my home without making things problematic. Now, perhaps you’d like to make a toast, Steve? Or maybe it can wait until everyone is here.”

“What is that aroma? It smells wonderful,” Okoye asked as you suddenly ran back toward the food table and straight past it into what looked like a black hole. “Cristiano! Thank you!” you shouted as you turned back around and walked back out with a large platter of seafood paella. “Cris dropped off the paella his family makes for the holiday, and he brought more dessert!”

The refrains of The Waitresses’ “Christmas Wrapping” played in the background, the first of many songs you had on your holiday playlist for the ages that pumped through the speakers of the room, and you smiled as you saw everyone actually enjoying themselves for what was likely the first time in ages. You had Hanukkah songs, songs that were more pagan in flavor for Yule and tons of Christmas classics at the ready. You just wanted everyone to have a moment’s peace.

The food covered any and all things that you felt would be celebratory dishes for the four corners of the globe that were the homes to your friends. Turkey, ham, seafood dishes and other more vegetarian fare were set up in buffet style, and there was a separate table for desserts near the tree. As far as you knew, all the bases were covered.

“My grandfather told me about the red haired goddess who landed in the middle of a Wakandan field before I was born,” T’Challa said as he came over to where you were fussing with the large bowl of mulled claret, your favorite holiday beverage. You smiled at the king and bowed slightly as he mentioned his grandfather Azzuri. “I never thought I would see you in my time on the throne, and yet, here you are.”

“People like me are very hard to kill, your majesty, so I have seen many a dynasty in my day,” you said as you offered T’Challa his choice of beverage from the table. Not everyone enjoyed alcohol, and mulled claret did not bring joy to all those offered the spiced ruby wine. “Henry the Eighth and his daughter Elizabeth are two others I had the pleasure of meeting in my time.”

“Whaaa? You knew Henry the Eighth?” Scott asked as he came up behind you and T’Challa. “And you kept your head?”“Henry liked my sister Dana, but never enough to bed her, thank heaven!” you replied as you sipped your claret. “They used to play a card game called primo. And Elizabeth had issues with an Irish pirate queen named Grainne Mhaol. Grace O’Malley to those who do not speak Irish. I had a vested interest in making sure the peace was kept.”

“Back to Henry,” Scott said as he dug into the roast turkey and stuffing that he picked from the buffet. “Was he always so…well…”

“Heavy set? A megalomaniac? What?” you asked as you sighed. “I remember the Henry who loved to hunt, dance and sing. The one who wrote his own songs. The one who loved life. Once he had Anne Boleyn beheaded, that all went out the window. She was not a witch, even if she was called one by those who hated that she did not have a son. Her death made it hard for those of us who were, so we fled. I often wonder if staying would have changed things at all. I guess that’s the down side of a long life. Too much time to ponder what might have been.”

In that instant you glanced toward Steve and Bucky. That pair personified “what might have been” in your life more than Henry or anyone in his court had back in the day. But today was not the time to sit and deconstruct that long, winding saga. New Year’s Eve would be here soon, and that would be time enough to dig up your past and have a good cry on your own with a small tub of whatever ice cream struck your fancy.

“Why don’t you go over and talk to him later?” Wanda asked as Vision hung back for a moment. She had snuck up behind you when Scott was asking about Henry. “I’m sure he would enjoy the company.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, Wanda,” you answered as you turned to her and then Scott and T’Challa, biting your lip as you held your glass of claret. “Our history is much more complicated than I’ve been able to explain to anyone, and unless he says I can, I don’t feel it is my place to, as they say it now, spill the tea. That can wait for another time.”

And you were not about to go see what he and Steve were actually chatting about at the moment. But you did see Sam walk over to them and then all three sort of stared at you before turning back toward the tree in the corner.

“See? Not the time yet,” you said with a laugh to Wanda, T’Challa and Scott before you noticed a ripple in the portal that still stood in a far corner of the room.

“Who in the hell makes it so complicated to come to a Christmas party? I mean, I know I’m supposed to be dead to the world, but this is ridiculous.”

“Nicholas! Maria!” you shouted as Fury and Hill made their way into the gathering, both looking a bit bewildered by the route you had used to get them there. “And Steve, before you say a word, this was easier than what these two wanted to do to get you intel. Trust me.”

“Cranky old woman,” Fury muttered as you stood there and glared at him.

“Who helped you get your job with SHIELD, Nick? Or haven’t you told everyone that story a million times by now?”

“What?” Natasha spouted as she and Clint got up from one of the sofas you had placed around the party area. “Wait. It was always whispered in those wonderful group events that Carter and Stark had help setting up SHIELD. You?”

“Bucky was always considered the first SHIELD agent,” Maria Hill said as she got a glass of wine, “but Kari was one of the Big Three at the start…”

“And that’s why Hank Pym knows you! But not you!” Scott shouted as he set down his plate and danced around like he had just won the lottery. “I mean he always calls you by a different name. That pirate lady you mentioned. O’Malley!”

“I was married to a Scotland Yard detective named Thomas O’Malley. That was in the late 1800s. Many people know me by Red O’Malley. Hank Pym is one of them. Hank and Howard always kept butting heads. They drove me crazy. I actually knew Tony as a toddler.”

You could see Bucky looking away at the mention of the Stark family, and you could have kicked yourself for that stupid line of party chatter.

“But I am sure you don’t want to hear all that. Nor do you want to hear about any missions I ran for Peggy. Not tonight anyway,” you said as you tried to change the subject. You crossed over to Bucky and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot,” as you put your hand on his shoulder for a minute before letting it go. “Age doesn’t make one brilliant at times. I’m living proof of that. Now, do you recognize this piano?”

An ancient upright was near the window that looked out into Ireland, and it was indeed quite familiar to the captain and the sergeant. “This is the one from The Whip and Fiddle. Do any of you play?”

“I don’t think anyone plays this,” Nat said as she held up a violin, and your face turned bright red. “Of course. You do.”

“Yes, but I hadn’t hauled that out of storage, so I have a funny feeling I know how it got here,” you said as you picked up the bow and violin and watched as Steve took to the piano bench and Clint picked up a guitar you had leaning next to one of the couches. Scott found something that made you tear up for a minute. “And that drum as well. That belonged to one of my brothers. Donal. He’d be happy to know someone is going to use it again.”

The tunes that filled the air were old and cozy as they rose and fell with every note. “Jingle Bells” gave way to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” and then to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” How you wished that could have been true for everyone in the room, but even your best efforts fell woefully short in your eyes as you got to the song’s refrain of “if only in my dreams.” That stung a bit more than you had imagined it would.

{{Maybe this was a really stupid idea after all}} you thought as you set down your violin and got up as the others set their instruments aside as well.

“You know, I find it fascinating that humans will do so much and then still find fault in what they have done,” Vision said as you stopped for a moment to dry your eyes. “I guess it is that drive for perfection that can never be fully realized.”

“Vision, I’m measuring today against all the holidays that passed in that grand hall in my home in Kildare. We would have all 13 of us siblings, our parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents all jammed in those walls, and we’d celebrate Yule for days. Whatever I did today is just that. One day. I can’t fix the Accords. I can’t convince Tony or Rhodey that there is a way forward. I’m worried for that poor young man that Tony brought to that fight in Berlin. And everyone here deserves to be home and not hunted by some misguided people in power. I could close my eyes and let The Morrigan loose, and she could just upend this all and shape the world to her vision, but I won’t do that. I can’t do that. And while this might be lovely, it is only gossamer. Fleeting at best. And I owe everyone so much more…”

“You did this back when that piano was new,” Bucky said, walking over as he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Maybe, for one day, give it a rest. I’m fine. We’re all fine. The rest will take care of itself.”

“If Thor were here, he’d be holding mistletoe over them right now,” you heard Nat saying to Clint as Nick and Maria joined them. “And she’d just walk away, like she is doing now. Stubborn.”You turned and looked at the quartet and shook your head. Bucky Barnes did not need to get more tangled up in your life than he already was. No one was going to hear about Katowice, Poland tonight if you could help it. That nightmare would have to be addressed eventually, but not during a party.

“Grandma, why are you being so you tonight?” Nick asked as he finished the last of his scotch. “Lighten up.”

You growled at the former SHIELD director as you turned on your heel, grabbed another glass of mulled claret and then pivoted to face the lot of them. “This night is for all of you. Just think of me as the caterer and party planner.”

“Holy…where did that come from?” Scott yelped as he went to sit on one of the sofas and felt a big box on the cushion. “What the hell?” you muttered as you stomped over to the sofa, not one bit pleased with this nonsense. “My siblings are not above a stunt or two tonight, I see.”

“I thought you said your family was all dead?” Vison asked as you opened the box and found a bunch of old ornaments and trimmings that had been in the last of the family holiday gear that you skipped for this night.

“But dead in my world and dead in yours are very different things,” you said as you pointed to a large mirror hanging over the fireplace. “Because of the deal my grandmother made at my birth, my family has a special place in the afterlife. I can talk to them, and they can make their presence felt here. Meet my family, or at least my brothers and sisters.”

A throng of people seemed to be jostling for position inside the mirror as a petite, wavy haired blonde in a burgundy velvet gown with golden trim on the sleeves made it to the front of the pack. “Blessed Yule, Kiki,” she said as she held a gray Persian cat in her arms. That was her familiar Periwinkle.“Blessed Yule, Roz and all!” you shouted back as you heard a whoop from the back of the group in the mirror. “Donal, enough of the party pranks.”

“Kiki? Roz?” Scott asked as you laughed, handing out more ornaments to everyone in the room. “That sounds like the characters in ‘Grease’!”

“Kiki is my nickname, and Roz is short for Roslea. You won’t remember all of them, folks, so don’t stress about it. Now, to humor the lot of them, would you mind putting those ornaments on the tree? That was one family tradition from the 1800s that they apparently felt I could not live without. This and the singing before.”

As you and the team hung the ornaments, you went over the names of the lot of your siblings. Brothers Branan, Cormac, Rory, Caedmon, Ewan, Keir, Malachi and Donal all moved in and out of view before sisters Roslea, Dana, Hayley and Adaryn all moved to the front.

“Branan is your twin, right?” Wanda asked as she slipped a small orange glass bird onto a branch. “And who is the youngest?”“That would be Hayley, the sculptor,” you said with a soft sigh. “That is a very long story. Maybe not tonight, but I will tell you, Wanda, and anyone else who cares to hear it.”

“We should let you get back to your night, Little Sister. Blessed Yule to you all,” Cormac said as the mirror started to shimmer and stopped showing what was happening in the place your family called Annwyn.

“But, you’re the oldest, right?” Scott asked as you laughed again. “He means my height. I’m the shortest of the brood,” you said as you noticed the ornament Bucky had picked out. It was a snowflake made of Beleek china that you had been gifted a very long time ago by someone very dear to your heart. It was nice to see it go on a tree once more.

The group seemed to swarm the dessert table en masse, and Scott seemed pleased that he had gotten a huge piece of pumpkin pie before seeing a cake that Clint was giving the once over. “What is this? It smells like Jameson’s,” Clint said as he cut a piece. “Should I set it on fire?”

“It isn’t a plum pudding. It’s Irish fruit cake,” you said as Clint suddenly set down the plate. “You can’t compare it to the American version. This one won’t cause you to visit the dentist soon. It’s a soft cake.”

Clint took a very small piece and tasted it, giving a thumbs up before cutting a bigger slice. “I forget your other life is baking.”

“Sometimes I forget, too,” you said as you turned to hand a plate with a fruit tartlet to Ayo. It was then that you saw a small orange streak run over to the tree. “Gifts! Before more dessert, we should at least hand them out. Especially so this munchkin doesn’t rip all the paper first! You can open them now or wait. Whatever works. But Clint and Scott, I have ones for your families, too.”

“Is that your familiar?” Vision asked as you walked over and picked up the orange tabby cat. “Not exactly, Vision. While Hickory here could be my familiar, he’s simply my cat. And he loves to snoop.”

“Are these gifts, well, safe for kids?” Clint asked as he shook one box for Nathaniel. “As far as I know, DUPLO is safe for little kids,” you said as you set Hickory down on a chair, walked over to the tree and took out the boxes. “A sweater for Lila. A jacket for Cooper. Books for all three of them as well. And something I think Laura will like for the house. No weapons. No explosives. Your family is not my family. I know that. And Scott, I got Cassie this weird little stuffed animal. A unicorn platypus or something. It’s cute and cuddly, and there is a book that goes with it. And before you ask, all bought with cash. Nothing can get traced.”

You saw Nat give Nick a look that would have slayed most men, and whatever he was about to say stayed in his throat.

“And you can take food back with you. There is more than enough here. I’m just going to seal this all up later anyway. I don’t dare leave it all connected. I wish I could.”

“I still don’t get one thing,” Maria said as she shook the box in her hands. “You did all this so we could all be together. And you tried to get Stark and Rhodes here, too? And that kid?”

“Yes, but, well, Tony is still ticked because I wasn’t there to heal Rhodey,” you said as you tried to look at anything but a person. “I can’t say he’s wrong. He blames me for everything right now. I just don’t think he’d have liked how I might have fixed things before that fight. And as for Spider-Man, well, I did manage to make his holiday a bit merrier. I’ll leave it at that.”

You had made sure a few gifts were going to be dropped off at the Parker apartment in Queens. It really was the least you could do. You’d tried with Tony and Rhodey, but pushing harder would have caused an international incident.

“As for what you all are getting, not to sound too creepy, but you are all getting parts of my past,” you said as Shuri shot you the weirdest of looks as she opened her gift. “My brother Caedmon was a bit of an evolutionary science buff as well as physician for our clan. Those were some of his notes from his studies with Darwin.”

“And this?” Clint asked as he unpacked an ancient bow, quiver and arrows. “Robin Hood was your bff?”

“No, but my brother Keir was an archer as well as a financial wizard. Those were his when he was part of the guard at the Hill of Tara, just like our father before him. And that pistol, Nat, comes from the first time I lived in New York City, back when the Five Points section was the center of Irish life in America. It’s a pearl handled, four barrel pepperbox. You can still get ammo for it.”

Nat cracked a smile as she held the diminutive pistol in her hand. “Nice and discreet. I’m impressed. Thank you.”

“Why are you playing Oprah with all your stuff?” Nick asked before you handed him his box. “You not telling us something? I thought you couldn’t die?”

“Oh, I came close a few times,” you said as you winked at Bucky. “I can die. You know that. But, no, I am not dying. This is simply my way of saying how much you all mean to me. I’m sure I’m being too sentimental for all of you, but tough.”

“This thing better not be bomb parts,” Nick grumbled as he opened his gift to find a SHIELD Holy Grail of sorts. “If Coulson were still with us, he’d have fought you for that. Some of the original, handwritten notes and drawings for the first SSR bases and weapons. Howard and Peggy made notations on most of those. You may have the digital copies, but I thought you’d appreciate the coffee-stained originals. Now for you two,” you said as you looked at Steve and Bucky.

“Oh no, you got them some weird old car or something? Motorcycle with a side car? Sleeping gowns with those goofy hats?” Sam laughed as you shook your head and handed both super soldiers overly large rectangular boxes.

“Those were not all in my possession, but I tracked the rest down thanks to the families of the Howling Commandos. The principal at Midtown School of Science and Technology in the city is the grandson of Jim Morita. He was very helpful. He got in touch with people, and they were able to get me copies of the old photos I am sure you guys never got the pleasure of seeing very long. A tiny bit of your history that I had the honor of witnessing.”

There were maps, notes, posters of Steve’s USO tour, photos and a few other odd mementos you were able to purchase for this gift. You were sure it was a dud because both men said nothing.

“Wait,” Bucky said as he pulled out a small envelope. “What’s this?”

“Something you can look at later. Notes I jotted down from my time with you guys before the train. I thought it might help in your work in Wakanda,” you said as you took a deep breath and tried not to burst into tears. “I can’t do much else to help, but I wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” Steve said first as Bucky joined in with a nod. “I hadn’t seen this photo of Peggy and me in ages. I’m surprised you found it.”

“I’m a pack rat,” you said as you motioned for everyone else to open their gifts. “And I have connections you would not believe. I mean, besides all of you. I know you are likely wondering why I didn’t just go be with my family on the other side of the mirror for Yule. I only get to see them up close at Samhain. I talk to them a lot, but I can’t just walk up and get a hug or punch one of them in the arm. I may be old as dirt, but being connected still matters.”

“Oh! Magic set! Wait…Houdini?” Scott asked as he opened his box.

“No, Dai Vernon, the Canadian master of slight of hand. You could not beat The Professor for his card tricks. I didn’t think you’d want to lock yourself up in chains and submerge yourself in a tank.”

“‘The History of the Preternatural World of New Orleans’. This thing weighs a ton,” Sam said as he hefted a book into his hands. “Wait. You know about all that stuff because…”

“I spent a little time there for a few summers before I married my second husband, and I got friendly with the Laveau family. This was one of their books, and they gifted it to me. Who better than a son of Louisiana to hold this tome? I have been to Algiers and frequented the vampire bars. My brother Ewan was a vampire.”

“Holy shit…” Sam said as his eyes grew wide. “No werewolves?”

“A cousin named Conri,” you said as you bowed your head. “Long story there.”

“And where is your gift?” Vision asked as he helped Wanda hook a necklace you had gifted to her. It had belonged to your Aunt Fachtna.

“I’ll get to that in a minute. Wanda, that necklace should help you focus your powers a bit in the field. My mother’s older sister used it for that purpose, and I thought the ruby stone would work well with your power signature. Vision, I am not sure if I did those properly, but if I didn’t we can work on making those files on the mystic world work with your systems. Putting it in a pocket watch likely seems weird, but my brother Rory always used the watch to take things with him and avoid detection.”

“You didn’t answer Vision’s question,” Bucky said as he still held the envelope. “Your gift this year?”

“That’s easy. This night is my gift. I had a night with the staff at the bakery when this was all set up, and one with the folks who take care of my home and business in Kildare, so I got to spend time with everyone I care about. I can’t ask for more. Now, the clock is ticking, and I think Clint and Scott need to head home. Last call?”

T’Challa looked at Okoye and Ayo as they opened boxes with Celtic spears that you had from your days when you were in King Azzuri’s court, while the king held a set of daggers you had made back in the day that incorporated vibranium with mystic glass elements.

“The weight on this seems impossible,” Ayo noted as she twirled her spear. “Heavy on a thrust, but light when held.”

“More mystic metaphysics,” you said as you pointed toward the tip. “It’s because of the jewel in the blade. It harnesses energy in ways that don’t make sense to modern science.”

“One more song?” Maria asked as she flipped through the notes you had taken during your missions for Peggy. It was the companion piece to Nick’s gift, as it were.

The sound system cranked up another version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as everyone got ready to leave. This time it didn’t seem to sting quite so much as you got to the end of the song. You just hoped that next year would be kinder to everyone that had gathered there, and you prayed that maybe you could actually talk to Bucky once his deprogramming was complete.

“I’ll be back with you guys as soon as I break off the connections,” you told Nat as you turned to see Bucky walk out behind T’Challa, Okoye, Ayo and Shuri. He turned and nodded to you one more time, and Nat tried to shove you back toward him, but you just stopped and waved.

“We have a lot to suss out, Nat. He needs to take care of himself first,” you said as you turned to your friend and smiled. “We have time.”

“Famous last words,” she replied as she walked out behind Wanda, Vision, Steve and Sam. Nick and Maria had left shortly after Clint and Scott, so you were alone once more.

You waved your hand to start breaking the spell that connected your vault to all the points you needed tonight, but you stopped in front of a mirror and used it to gaze at a few other important points you had been watching. One was the Parker apartment in Queens, and they seemed to be enjoying their holiday mystery gifts. The other was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York.

“Rhodey! Who sent that box?” you heard Tony ask as Pepper handed him a large juice drink.

“Who do you think?” Rhodey replied as he set down the festively wrapped package in front of Stark.

“No. You are kidding me. I told her no,” Tony muttered as he drank from his glass. “She is stubborn. Never listens.”

“Relax, it isn’t ticking,” Rhodey replied as he opened the box. “That’s weird. A glass ball?”

“Don’t you mean a crystal ball? I’ve seen Kari use this,” Pepper commented as she sat down. “Wait. There’s a note taped to the box lid.”

Pepper took the note and read it aloud. “One day you may need me. Even if you don’t want to, speak into the ball, and I’ll be there. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You saw Tony roll his eyes as he put the ball on his bookshelf. It wasn’t a “come home” invitation, but it wasn’t a “drop dead” brick through your window either. That in and of itself was a gift.

As you shut off the lights in your pocket dimension vault, you smiled a little bit. Maybe one day you would all sit at the same table again? It all depended on Tony coming around to the facts that Bucky had no control over his actions that fateful day and that Steve really had the best of intentions when he kept his mouth shut about it all.

“If only in my dreams…” you sang as you headed out to where Steve and the others were now. “If only in my dreams.”

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother, @historygeekfics

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

--------

2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”. 

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles. 

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.” 

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him. 

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.” 

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily. 

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully. 

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.” 

“He’s a cartoon.” 

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?” 

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.” 

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate. 

-

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword. 

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael. 

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence. 

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath. 

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me. 

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever. 

“Please, call me Lachlan.” 

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically. 

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.” 

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.” 

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.” 

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

 “I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.” 

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.” 

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill. 

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red. 

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked. 

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.” 

-

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky. 

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society. 

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar. 

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly. 

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand. 

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.” 

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break. 

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him. 

“Think about this.  You don’t want to kill me!” 

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up. 

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.” 

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here. 

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine. 

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.” 

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again. 

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.” 

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“Lachlan?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?” 

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.” 

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.” 

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them. 

I just wish it wasn’t this hard. 

-

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him. 

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this  message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers. 

-------------------

Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good. 

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[lukealvezhimboextraordinaire]

Kathony + squishing the other's cheek

Please lmao they'd be so mad if one of them did it 🤣🤣

okay so this has gotten out of hand but here you go:

kathony + squishing the other's cheek.

heavily based on leap year.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had brought them together in what had to be the worst road trip since modern cars were invented. Kate Sharma was not a woman that easily allowed anyone to get behind the wheel of her absurdly old yet still fabulous baby aka the old red beetle her father had passed down to her the day she left for university. Benji, as the whole family had called the car ever since Kate was a four years old with an avid imagination and a thing for giving names to any inanimate object she came across, had been with her for the past ten years and most days was the only thing keeping her sane. She did not want to dwell too much on the reasons why sitting in her old car gave her such a sense of security. Or why often she kept imagining her father smiling at her from the passenger’s seat, soft encouraging words leaving his lips as he patiently waited for her to gather the courage to park in line. Her father had been her biggest fan and Benji was all she had left of him. She had not driven or gotten into another car ever since her father passed away.

Maybe that was the reason why she was so annoyed by her current predicament.

Sighing, she cast a side-eye glance to her left. There, sitting in the driver’s seat of a rented car was the only man that had ever managed to simultaneously make anger boil in her stomach and set her skin on fire. Not that she would ever admit the second part - not even to herself. And not only was he looking like he had always belonged there, in a car with her, he also had the smuggest smile plastered on his stupidly handsome face. Kate huffed annoyed and turned her eyes to the window, purposefully ignoring the butterflies going wild in her stomach.

Life was incredibly unfair at times.

You might be wondering why exactly Kate Sharma was stuck in a car with her nemesis, aka Anthony Bridgerton. The answer is both extremely complicated and very simple. A series of very unfortunate events had led Anthony to be late for his sister’s wedding in a lovely and yet very secluded little town in lovely Ireland. Kate, who was a very modern woman, had gotten tired of waiting for her Irish boyfriend to propose to her and upon learning of a very fascinating tradition of the country of clovers had decided she might as well take matters into her own hands. But fate had wanted her lovely boyfriend to be out on a work trip in Dublin the only day in the next four years she could ask him to marry her and blame tradition for it. Naturally, she wasn’t going to let a couple thousand kilometers between them stop her from achieving her goals. The only problem? All the flights were booked for the next week.

And that’s when and where things had started going downhill.

It had not been the end of the world for Kate. She liked to drive and a road trip across one of the most beautiful countries in the world was hardly torture. But then her adored car had decided to not start and no matter how many times she tried, it did not start. That was a setback but not a big one to alter Kate’s plans. She grabbed her bag and rushed to the rental car point, only to be told there was only one car available. The problem? There was another person interested in it. And said person was willing to triple the fee to get the car.

In slow motion, Kate turned around to discover the person currently getting in the way of her and her marriage proposal was a prim, polish, stern-looking man. What started as an amicable and polite conversation soon morphed into a heated argument. The poor man behind the counter looked positively mortified but none of them seemed to notice. And then an amused voice had broken through the screams match with a suggestion so casual and logical that it left the both of them baffled.

Sharing the car. It was ridiculous.

But they had no other option.

Which brings us back to Kate and Anthony (it turned out the posh looking man had a matching posh name) stuck together in a way too small car for any of their likings.

“We have been on the road for four hours and you still haven’t told me what’s the oh so important thing waiting for you in Dublin?” A deep voice broke the comfortable silence.

Kate turned in her seat, casting him a quick look. He was not going to understand. He would even laugh at her, she was sure of it. So she chose to remain silent.

But Anthony had grown tired of the silence and decided to start a civil conversation with her even if that meant reciting a monologue until she had no option but to shut him up.

“I am on my way to the wedding. Of my sister, the wedding of my sister. My second younger sister. I have four sisters, you see. And three brothers. I am the oldest and I am to walk her down the aisle.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the dark-haired woman huff through her nose with clear annoyance. He wouldn’t have been able to stop the pompous smile from making its way to his face even if he had tried. Which he did not. There was something about getting under Kate’s skin that gave him a rush of adrenaline. He wasn’t sure what it was. But he liked it. “Frannie is getting married to Michael. He is the cousin of her former fiance, John.” That seemed to catch her attention but she stubbornly refused to give in. “John stood her up at the altar. It was all terribly dramatic.”

“And she is marrying his cousin?” Despite herself, Kate was not capable of stopping herself from asking. A terrible mistake because the moment her mouth opened Anthony’s eyes twinkled with pride.

The car didn’t get a moment of peace ever since.

“This was a terrible idea,” Kate muttered under her breath, a big fake smile plastered on her face.

“You were the one who wanted to stop for the night.” He pointed out.

“That was before knowing this.”

This was the only place available in the town, only booking rooms for couples. Married couples. It had to be a cruel joke. But they were both soaked to the core, tired and hungry and the pros of a warm shower and a comfortable bed outweighed the cons of having to pretend to be married to this horrible man she could not quite stop thinking about.

“Aren’t you an adorable couple! How long have you been married?” The thick accent of the woman lacing every word.

“Two weeks!”

“A month.”

They shared a look. Kate laughed, hitting him hard in the arm but making it look like it was just a caress.

“We have had this conversation before, honey.” The sarcasm on the pet name went unnoticed by their hosts. “He counts it since he proposed. I count it since we said our vows.”

The old couple was positively delighted by this. The woman took a step further towards them and then did something none of them had expected. She grabbed Anthony’s cheek’s and squeezed them in the most grandmotherly gesture ever. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing ever?”

Anthony’s ears turned a deep shade of red. “Err, yeah. I was looking forward to marrying this woman. I could barely contain myself, really.”

Kate had to bite down the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter.

“I can’t believe she did that!” Anthony protested as soon as the door to their shared room closed behind him. His ears were still red from before but now his cheeks were matching and not precisely because he was blushing. 

Kate only laughed. She could barely remember the last time she had had so much fun. He fixed her with a murderous glance. 

“But you are oh so sweet!” she teased, brown eyes twinkling with good natured malice. “So cute! So in love!” 

“Stop!” 

“Barely able to stop yourself from marrying your wife right then and there! Such a prince charming!” Her hands were now resting over her chest and a dreamy look plastered on her face. 

“Sharma, I swear to god!” He had cut any distance between them and was now standing with his face mere inches from hers. He was so close she could smell the coffee in his breath. 

Kate’s whole body tensed. 

And then she did something unexpected. Her hands found their way to his face, crading it sweetly for a moment and then she simply squished his cheeks. His eyes went wide with shock and the laugh she had been holding inside broke through her ribs, filling the room. 

“I am going to kill you!” He growled. 

“Oh but you wouldn’t do that to your lovely wife, would you Mister Bridgerton?” 

He watched her disappear behind the curtain separating the ensuite from the room and shook his head, smiling despite himself. 

“Hey, Kate?” 

“Yeah?” The sound of water hitting the tiles resonated in the room. 

“If I was your boyfriend you would have a ring in your finger by now.” 

“What?” She peaked her head out of the curtain and looked at him through squished eyes. “Did you say something?” His heart missed a beat. 

“Yeah, I said that any man would have to be crazy to agree to marry you!”

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 20

A/N:  Remember to like, reblog, yell in the tags, and support your friendly neighbourhood fic writers.  We appreciate it more than you think!  And thanks for all the positive feedback on my double post last week!  This chapter focuses more on Aberdeen and Siena’s sisterhood.  Hope you enjoy!  

February 15th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was in a taxi.

With the Canadian Tire Centre being in Kanata, Aberdeen needed a taxi to get into downtown Ottawa, and judging by what Siena told her about the bus, she wasn’t going to trust it to take her there.  They were meeting at Chez Lucien, a gastro bar in the ByWard Market that Siena apparently frequented a lot with her law school friends.  Aberdeen had come to visit Siena in Ottawa a few times since she began law school, and every time Siena took her to a different place.  It was nice, because she got to see more of what Ottawa had to offer, and what Siena’s life was like here as opposed to in Toronto, but a part of Aberdeen wished they had a ‘spot’.  

Siena had been waiting, as she was able to walk to Chez Lucien from where she lived near campus.  Aberdeen was kicking the snow off her boots and unwrapping all her layers at the door as she watched Siena scroll through her phone in a booth in the middle of the room.  The restaurant was pretty busy with the lunch time crowd, and the food already smelled delicious.  “How do you deal with all this snow?” she asked as she approached the table.

Siena shrugged.  “You get used to it, I guess.  Did you get here okay?”

Aberdeen nodded as she slipped into the booth.  “It’s quite the trek, though.  Make sure you leave early tonight.”

“I don’t think it would matter if I missed the first five minutes,” Siena said.

Aberdeen noticed a certain tone in Siena’s voice that made her realize this wasn’t going to be a nice, relaxing lunch with her older sister.  For how close they were and for how much Aberdeen loved Siena with every fibre of her being, Siena…could be a bitch sometimes.  It was usually drama with friends that did it, or bad grades – Siena hated getting bad grades.  She couldn’t compartmentalize her anger like Aberdeen could.  Siena couldn’t leave her anger at school and be happy while out with someone else.  She brought that anger with her and, while she hid it better in front of friends, she didn’t hide it in front of Aberdeen, meaning Aberdeen usually got the brunt end of it.  “Probably not, but MLSE comped the ticket, so it would be nice if you showed up on time.”

“The burgers are really good here,” Siena said, dropping it.  

Aberdeen opened the menu and looking at the list of burgers.  “So what is it?  A bad mark?  Professor piss you off?” she asked without looking up from the menu.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.  Now what do you want?”

The conversation flowed uncomfortably.  There were a few awkward pauses, which was unusual for the sisters, and though the food was good, Aberdeen could tell Siena wasn’t really all there.  There was something else occupying her mind that wasn’t allowing her to be fully present with Aberdeen.  Aberdeen wasn’t necessarily pissed off, because she certainly went through her moods too, but Siena wasn’t even trying to make an effort.  Aberdeen decided not to say anything.  It was for the best.

“So you look different,” Siena said, picking at the last of her fries and ketchup.

“I do?” Aberdeen asked.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Siena shrugged.  “Your hair’s a bit different.”

“Well, I attempted a blowout, but you know how that goes with me.”

“Does William like it when your hair is straight as opposed to your frizzy curls?” Siena asked, popping a fry into her mouth.

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  “Who cares what William likes?” Aberdeen asked.  “I sure as hell don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Siena, come on.  When have I ever changed myself for a guy?” Aberdeen asked.  She didn’t have a history of it at all, so she didn’t know why Siena would imply such a thing.  “I know that William and I are in this weird little…I don’t know, dance, but that doesn’t mean I’m changing myself so he’ll like me more or whatever.”  Aberdeen knew she didn’t have to.  She knew that William liked her – loved her – just as she was.  He’d never asked her to change anything about herself, and actually got mad when Saylor made that off-handed comment about her nose.  

“Are you sneaking around with him?” Siena asked suddenly.

Aberdeen was taken aback by the question.  She furrowed her brows and dropped her jaw, offended.  “What?!  NO!” she exclaimed.  She scared herself for how easily and emphatically she had just lied to her sister.  

“Are you lying to me?” Siena asked.

“Why would you even think that?” Aberdeen pressed.  “What the hell, Siena?  Do you honestly think I would jeopardize my job like that?  The job I work so hard in?  The job that might lead me to do what I actually want to do?  You honestly think I’d burn this bridge?”

“I don’t know.  You’ve done stupid shit in the past, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen felt tears well in her eyes.  She always knew Siena could be a bitch when she wanted to, but right now, she was being just downright mean.  It was hard not to take it personally.  “Wow.  Thanks Siena.”

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“I love the faith you have in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you,” Siena said.  “I just saw the way you looked at him on Christmas when he showed up.  And more importantly, I saw the way he looked at you.  And I know – or I at least have a feeling – that you wouldn’t be able to resist him if he actually came on to you.”

“That’s a bit rich coming from the girl who told us to sneak up to our room alone after watching an episode Brooklyn 9-9.”

“Don’t deflect this and put this on me, Aberdeen,” Siena narrowed her eyes.  “You’re the vulnerable one in this situation when it comes to him.  I mean you’ve already slept together.  You slept together after knowing each other for what?  A few hours?  I mean, if you’d had the decency to wait, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

Aberdeen’s eyes stung from trying to hold back her tears.  She couldn’t even look at her sister.  Instead, she focused on her hands in her lap, twiddling nervously with the ring William got her.  “Are you done?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.  “I mean it, are you done?”

“Aberdeen—”

“Is this why you asked me to lunch?  So you could make me feel like complete shit?” Aberdeen asked indignantly.

“You’re choosing to feel that way.  I’m not making you.”

Aberdeen pushed her chair back dramatically.  She refused to participate in this conversation anymore.  Actually, it wasn’t even a conversation – it was a sabotage.  She snatched her purse off the back of her chair and grabbed her coat and scarf before walking away from the table, not even caring that she was walking out on her sister and sticking her with both bills.  By the time she had reached the door, throwing her jacket over her shoulders and wrapping her scarf around her neck, there were already tears falling.  

She walked up the street, not even knowing where she was going and where she was going to end up, and she didn’t bother taking her phone out to check.  Instead, she cried.  She cried about the things her sister said to her.  She cried about how she lied to her sister.  But more than anything, she cried about how awful she felt, how it felt like her heart was in the pit of her stomach, how her mind was racing about what she was doing with William and how wrong it was but how happy she was when she was with him.  She was so conflicted.  She was being pulled in opposite directions; quartered in the town square for everyone to see for the sins she was committing.  

Aberdeen knew she fucked up.  She knew.  She knew the moment William stepped into that elevator and shook her hand.  She didn’t need anybody to tell her that, or to remind her of the mistakes she’d made.  But she didn’t have regrets.  Maybe she should, but she didn’t.  She loved William.  She wasn’t supposed to, but she did.  She knew they would be able to keep this a secret; she had faith that it wouldn’t affect her future career prospects.  She had to have faith, because if she didn’t, it was all for naught.  If she didn’t have faith, then she really was stupid.

People stared at her as she walked down the street crying, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets.  She barely wiped her tears away, wearing them with pride instead.  They’d freeze to her face eventually, she thought, and then she’d look like an ice queen.  Maybe that would be good for her.  

Aberdeen continued to weave through the streets – turning right, left right, left, left, right – until she happened upon Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica, the famous Catholic Church in Ottawa.  She’d been there before, with her family, when they visited Siena for the first time and Orla dragged everybody there for a Sunday mass.  The cathedral was visually stunning, with its neo-Gothic architecture, classic arches, blue ceiling, and stained-glass windows.  Weirdly, Aberdeen loved ecclesiastical architecture.  It was probably Orla’s influence.  Aberdeen always pictured herself getting married in an old church like this, should she ever get married.  Whenever she was in a Catholic church, she was reminded of her childhood.  Of Orla dragging her and Siena (and when he was born, Camden) to Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church on Bloor Street West every Sunday.  Of her mom kneeling and praying for her family back in Northern Ireland.  Of attending catechism classes with her classmates so she could receive the Eucharist and have her confirmation.  Of her dad sitting with them and being in church too for all those major milestones even though he had his own faith.  In its own weird way, it reminded her of home, of routine.  The routine of dipping a finger in holy water and bowing, of finding a pew and kneeling for a quick personal prayer.  For standing and singing and kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.

So it was no wonder, then, that when she entered the cathedral, despite the tourists that lingered throughout the aisles and alcoves taking pictures and lighting candles, it was so easy for her to find the holy water and bow.  It was easy for her to find a pew.  It was easy for her to sit, and to look forward at the altar.  

It was easy for her to cry.

***

Aberdeen cried out everything she had in her in Notre Dame.  It was massively therapeutic.  And when she was done, she took a taxi back to the arena.  

She’d cried so much that her eyes were still red, that her skin was blotchy even where she was wearing makeup and was very blotchy in the places where the tears had washed her makeup away.  She knew she’d probably get asked about it, but she didn’t really care.  She wondered if the men she worked with would even notice.

As she walked through the back corridors and into a room, the first person that she saw was Peter.  Her body stiffened.  She had barely seen him since the All-Star Game – only saw him in passing or from across the arena, really – and she was too scared to ask whether he had switched departments, gotten demoted, or the like.  She hadn’t spoken to him since, and her heart beat rapidly in her chest the second his eyes landed on her.  He probably still wanted to kill her.

That’s why she was thoroughly shocked when he gave her a large smile.  

“How’ve you been?” he asked as he walked towards her.  

“How have I been?  Where have you been?” she asked back, trying not to freak out.  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so angry.  Now he was acting as if nothing was wrong.  She thought he’d hate to see her and spit over his shoulder the second he saw her.

“We’re going to need to celebrate,” he said, his voice giddy.  “I feel like getting champagne,” he continued, looking around for something to drink.  He saw a bunch of Gatorade bottles and handed one to her before taking one for himself. 

“Uh…okay,” she played along.  The Gatorade would have to do.  “What are we toasting?”

“We are toasting, my dear, to the dream job.  The one that a million people wanted,” he smiled.

Aberdeen was confused.  “Which I got months ago…”

He rolled his eyes playfully.  “I’m not talking about you.”

That piqued her interest.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Mhm…go on…”

“Brendan and Kyle invested a lot of time and effort into me.  I came on board basically when Kyle did.  At the beginning I was doing everything – social media, communications, PR, the works,” he began.  “But then there was that opening in hockey operations…and they needed someone they could trust…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen knew about the open job in hockey ops.  They’d received numerous applications.  The opening was a huge deal and people were clamouring at the opportunity because jobs there didn’t come up often.  “Uh huh…”

“And that someone would be me.”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “You got the hockey ops job?!” she screamed.

“YES!” he screamed out loud.  His giddy laughter and excited little jumps and jitters told Aberdeen he was more than just happy – he was ecstatic.  It was probably a position he wanted more than anything.  “Aberdeen, they even put me up for it!  I mean can you imagine!”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out.  That was some interesting bit of news.  It meant that Brendan and Kyle knew they were going to promote Peter.  But that didn’t matter right now.  All that mattered was how ecstatic Peter was and his new position with the Leafs.  “But…but you’re leaving.  I can’t imagine taking on Brendan and Kyle without you.”

“I know, I know, but I’m so excited though.  This is the first time in almost three years I’m going to be able to call the shots in my job!  Oh my God!” he shrieked.  “I’m going to be able to come to Ottawa, Montreal, New York, Philly, Chicago…and actually be involved in the hockey process.”

He was happy.  So incredibly happy.  And Aberdeen could only be happy for him.  She unscrewed and raised her Gatorade bottle.  “Well, congratulations Peter.  You deserve it.”

“You bet your ass I do,” he giggled, unscrewing his own Gatorade bottle and crashing it against hers.  Aberdeen laughed as they both took their gulps of the drink.  “I’m sorry I got mad at you before the All-Star Game,” he said once he was finished drinking.  “I was really out of line.”

“It’s alright,” she said.  “I knew it meant the world to you.”

“Yeah, but I was really mean,” he said.  “I said you didn’t deserve it, but we both know that you did.  You’ve been working hard since you got here and I was just…you know, being a dick about it.”

“I’ve had worse things said to me,” she shrugged.  An understatement considering where she had just come from.  “But thank you for your apology.”

He held his Gatorade bottle up again.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he toasted.

Aberdeen smiled, raising her own bottle.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

***

“So, how was lunch with Siena?” Brendan asked as he went over some last-minute notes before he and Aberdeen would make their way to the press box and meet Kyle for the game.  Knowing that Siena was coming to the game tonight to support her sister was nice.  Aberdeen made it adamantly clear her sister wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of hockey, but was coming to the game to support her more than anything.  That was fine with Brendan.  

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She’d hoped Brendan wouldn’t ask about it because she still wasn’t over it.  “I ended up going to church.”

He looked at her skeptically.  “Church?”

“I got into a fight with my sister,” she explained curtly.

“About what?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  Like she was going to tell him.  “Not important.”

“Well…what made you go to church?” he pressed.  He seemed genuinely concerned about the fact that she’d gone to a house of worship after fighting with her sister.  Had it been that bad?  

Aberdeen knew he was curious because he was worried, not curious because he wanted to pry.  Because of that, she knew she had to choose her words carefully as to not reveal too much but also not reveal too little so that he’d ask more questions.  She couldn’t find them.  She didn’t know what to say to him without it leading to her giving it all away and getting fired on the spot.  “I just needed some semblance of…normalcy back in my life after the fight,” she said, knowing Brendan wouldn’t understand.  

“Aberdeen, I have absolutely no clue what that means,” he deadpanned jokingly, causing her to giggle slightly.  “But if church helped…well, good,” he said, focusing back on his notes.

Aberdeen nodded.  She wanted the topic of conversation to be dropped, and she knew the best way to do that.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She knew it was going to come out as a statement more than a question.  “You and Kyle…you guys knew you were promoting Peter to the hockey ops position.”

“Yes…”  He was still looking down at his notes, and he wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“So why’d you make me tell him about the All-Star Game?”

Brendan stopped focusing on his notes, instead looking at Aberdeen.  He knew that she wasn’t accusing him of anything, and not complaining that she had to do what she did; she just wanted answers.  Apparently she’d seen Peter.  Apparently they’d talked.  “So Peter told you we put him up for the hockey ops job, then,” he started.

“He did.”

Brendan nodded his head.  “We needed to toughen you up, Aberdeen.”

It was Aberdeen’s turn to look at Brendan skeptically.  “Toughen me up?”

“Listen—don’t get me wrong, because you’ve been doing a great job,” Brendan began.  “But you…you need to do things that make you uncomfortable, Aberdeen.  You know…uh…” he was trying to find the right words.  “You know how a glowstick needs to be cracked in order to shine?”

“That’s literally the weirdest analogy I’ve ever heard anyone make,” she said.

“You needed to crack a bit,” he said firmly.  “You needed to break someone’s heart.  This is a tough business and this is a tough world and it’ll happen to you too.  And I want you to be prepared to have to do those sorts of things.  Because you’ll be successful once you leave here and you’ll have to do them.  You’ll thank me later.”

Judging by his tone, Aberdeen knew Brendan wasn’t going to entertain any other options.  She couldn’t say anything to make him think otherwise.  “Okay…well, then I think you’ll be happy to know that I broke his heart when I told him he wasn’t going to the All-Star Game.  And you and Kyle put it back together by promoting him.”

“I know that,” he said.  He looked down at his notes one more time before pushing his chair back.  “Now let’s go.”

***

Are they playing well?  I wouldn’t know.

Aberdeen stared at the text message from Siena as she sat in the back of the press box, Brendan and Kyle watching the game intently and in full view of the cameras.  She was surprised Siena still came after the afternoon they’d had.  There was less than five minutes left in the first period, and Auston had already scored.  She didn’t know if she should respond.  She wondered if that made her a bad sister.

When the buzzer rang for the end of the period, Brendan swiveled in his chair and looked back at her.  “Is Siena here?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded her head.  “Go find her.”

“But you asked me to—”

“Go find her and go talk to her,” he interrupted, giving her a look.  “Go.”

Aberdeen got up from her seat, her credentials jingling down the hallway as she texted Siena back.  

Where are you sitting?

They put me six rows behind the Leafs bench.  Section 106.  Can you come meet me right outside the tunnel?

By the time Aberdeen got there (she speed walked so they had more time together, so what?), Siena was already waiting.  When Siena saw her, she stuffed her phone into her pocket.  “Were you up in the box?” she asked.

“I always am.”

Siena nodded, staying quiet for a moment.  “Listen…I…I’m sorry about today,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit.  “I was…my comments were really uncalled for, and I shouldn’t have like, you know, accused you of sleeping with William behind your boss’s back.”

Aberdeen nodded her head once, curtly, to make Siena abundantly clear that she hadn’t forgiven her just yet.  Could she forgive her, really, when she was keeping the biggest secret from her?  “Do you want to tell me what the little outburst was really about?” she asked.

Siena pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest.  She looked down at the floor.  “It’s nothing.”

“Siena.”

She sighed heavily.  “It’s a guy,” she mumbled out.

“What?”

“A guy,” she said dramatically.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “A guy?!” she barely had the words.  “What guy?  What…what guy?!”

Siena looked like she was about to throw a mini temper tantrum for having to reveal the information.  “There was this guy, Aaron…he was just in one of my classes, and we had this…this thing going on for the past few months.  Anyways, uh, I found out he was also hooking up with Sylvie the entire time and they’re all Instagram official already.”

“Sylvie?!” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “Like…Gatineau Sylvie?  Blonde Sylvie?  Sylvie who we partied with Sylvie?”

“Yes, that Sylvie,” Siena rolled her eyes.  “Knockout Sylvie.  Drop dead gorgeous Sylvie.  Only in law school so her parents don’t cut her off financially Sylvie.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows in anger.  Sylvie had been so nice when Aberdeen had come to visit last year, and had bought her drinks at the club…and now to hear she’d done this to Siena?  And had been doing it for months?  Aberdeen was livid.  “Well fuck that bitch,” she barked.  “And fuck Aaron, too.”

“Now I know how you felt when Zane did that to you,” Siena bit her lip.  “But you guys were together for like, a year.  Aaron and I were just hooking up.”

“Still,” Aberdeen was still upset.  “Fuck that guy.  Fuck them both.  Fuck them all.  He doesn’t deserve you if he’s gonna be sneaking around on you, hooking up with Sylvie and whoever else.  You dodged a bullet.  You’re too pretty and too smart to be bogged down by such a fuckboy.”

Siena was quiet.  Aberdeen tried to figure out whether she was going to cry or roll her eyes, but she couldn’t.  With Siena looking at the floor, it was almost impossible.  When she finally looked back up, her expression was much more neutral.  Gentler.  “I wish I had your sense of loyalty, Aberdeen,” Siena said softly.  “Really.  I do.  It’s one of your best qualities.  You…you have my back no matter what.”

“Of course I do,” Aberdeen said.  “You’re my sister.”

Siena nodded her head.  “I know it might not seem like it, especially after the lunch we had, but I always have your back, too,” she said.  “I hope you know that.  I’d do anything for you.”

Aberdeen was silent as she considered her sister’s words.  They fought like any sisters did, but deep know, she knew.  Aberdeen knew her sister would do anything for her, and she would do the same.  “I know.”

“Can you forgive me for lunch?”

Aberdeen nodded reluctantly.  There was nothing to forgive when her sister was right about her assumptions.  “I forgive you,” she said.  She watched as a bunch of fans made their way through the tunnel and into the arena back to their seats.  “Listen, I have to get back.  But I’ll meet you after the game, okay?  Go to those doors over there,” she pointed behind her to the same doors she came through to meet her.

“Okay.  I’ll see you,” Siena nodded, watching as Aberdeen disappeared through the door.

***

William scored in the second period, making Aberdeen convinced he was just trying to show off since he knew Siena was watching.  Hell, he could probably see her from the bench.  With the Leafs winning 4-2, Aberdeen was happy.  But there was barely any time to celebrate.  Everybody had to get ready to leave as soon as possible so they could get on the plane and fly to Buffalo.

It was why Aberdeen was dragging Siena through the back corridors eagerly.  “Where are you bringing me?” Siena asked.

“You need some eye candy to take your mind off Aaron,” Aberdeen said.  

“So you’re bringing me to meet an old man?”

Aberdeen snorted.  Brendan was three years younger than their dad.  “Not quite.”

As they turned a corner, they came head to head with some of the guys, walking in and out of the locker room, their shirts half buttoned, their ties undone, some of them still in their hockey pants, topless.  Siena stopped dead in her tracks.  “Aberdeen—”

“—Feast your eyes—"

“—Aberdeen, I shouldn’t be here.  I shouldn’t…oh…oh my,” Siena gasped like an old Southern woman as her eyes landed on a topless Pierre Engvall across the room.  “Oh my God you could have told me!” she pinched Aberdeen.  “I could have dressed nicer!”

“Hello.”  Siena jumped dramatically, turning around to see William behind her.  She calmed down when she recognized him.  “How are things?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.  

“Fine, thanks,” Siena’s voice was equally as low.

He stood up straight more and extended his hand.  “I’m William, it’s nice to meet you.  Siena, you said?”

Siena was taken aback for a second before she realized what William was doing.  She wasn’t supposed to know who he was.  She wasn’t supposed to be familiar with him.  “Hi.  Y—Yes,” she stuttered out, shaking his hand.  “I’m Siena, Aberdeen’s older sister.”

“Hey!  Who’s the stranger?” Auston called out from inside the locker room, looking at them standing in the doorway.  

“This is my sister, Matthews,” Aberdeen answered, saying it loud enough so the whole locker room would hear.

Most of the guys approached to shake her hand.  Jason came up first, then Rasmus, then John and Freddie.  Aberdeen didn’t think Siena would get starstruck by hockey players, but she apparently was, stuttering out hellos and pleasant conversations with the men.  Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle.  “Jesus, Aberdeen,” Siena whispered eventually when nobody approached them and they were alone.  “Are they around like this all the time?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “You don’t know the half of it.”

It was at that point that Auston approached them, giving Siena a quick but flirty up-down that Siena didn’t catch but Aberdeen did.  “This is your sister?” he asked, extending his hand and getting Siena’s attention.  

“Yes, she’s my sister.”

“You guys don’t look like sisters,” he commented.

“I got much more of our dad’s Persian features,” Siena said, shaking his hand.  Aberdeen had rolled her eyes – as if she hadn’t heard that comment before about them not looking like sisters.  “I’m Siena.”

“Siena.  I’m Auston,” he smiled.

Aberdeen rolled her eyes playfully.  “Go flirt with Willy, Auston.  You didn’t get with Kasha and you’re definitely not getting with my sister.”

Auston furrowed his brows at her playfully.  “Get a life, Aberdeen,” he said before sticking his tongue out.  “I hope you liked the game,” he said to Siena before walking away.

Siena was about to whisper something to Aberdeen, but then noticed the man from before making his way towards them.  Her breath hitched in her throat and her entire body seized up.  Aberdeen almost burst out laughing then and there.  “Hello.  I’m Pierre,” Pierre Engvall extended his hand for Siena to shake.  “You’re Aberdeen’s sister?”

Aberdeen had to nudge her sister to get her to respond.  She jerked her hand out to shake Pierre’s.  “Hi!  Yes yes, I’m Aberdeen’s sister, Siena.  It’s nice you meet you Pierre.”

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked.

“Yes.  Yes.  You guys played so well.  I mean I don’t watch hockey much but—”

“Have you been to a game in Toronto?” he asked.

“No—I mean, not yet.”

“Well you should come.  I’m sure Aberdeen could get you a ticket,” he smiled.

Before the flirt fest could go on any longer, Rasmus screamed something in Swedish at him, and Pierre laughed.  “It was nice to you meet you Siena,” he said before walking away, punching Rasmus on the arm.

Siena looked at Aberdeen.  Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head.  “Good God almighty, that man just made me sweat like a whore in church.”

Aberdeen snorted.  “Don’t tell that to mom.”

[sadaboutniall]

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

sorry I suck at updating. happy valentine’s day, here’s a new chapter!! 💕💕 have a lovely valentine’s 

Chapter Eight. May.

When all of this is over, I; Love me like there ain’t another day, lead with the heart, ain’t that the only way? Keep thinking ‘bout how much I changed today.

It’s surprisingly easy, then, for Niall and Lu to figure things out. It’s easy to fall into the routine of two people who can’t get enough of each other—for Niall to swing by the cafe every day after work, and for Lu to clear her weekends to watch Niall coach. They have dinner together more often than not, Ruairí sleeping at Niall’s feet while he sits at Luna’s kitchen table. They kiss on the couch and fuck on a wool blanket in front of the fireplace, Niall’s lips at Luna’s neck, Luna’s fingers clawing down his bare back. Afterwards, she likes to lie with him and trace the scratches with her own fingers, caressing the patterns that mark him as her own. 

Niall tells her that if they don’t keep it on the downlow news of their relationship will travel the island fast, and Luna will never escape questions about it—it makes her think back, so far back, to that night on the roof, when he mentioned how much Inis Mór loves its gossip. She remembers watching him that night, freezing cold on the roof of her unfamiliar flat, wondering what it would be like to truly know Niall. All she’d wanted to do then was reach out and touch his hand, feel his skin against hers—now, she does it nearly every night, without thinking twice. 

It’s one of those nights, in early May, when things change forever. 

She’s lying all over him in her bed, the way they both like to after sex, his hand tangled up in the curly mess of her hair, her fingers tracing patterns against his bare chest, the smattering of chest hair starting to bloom out across his freckled skin. Luna has the windows open and the smell of spring is delicious through the windows, even this late in the night. As a gentle breeze billows her curtains, Niall slides one hand up Luna’s bare back, from where he’d been resting it at the curve of her ass, coming to a gentle stop between her shoulder blades. She glances up at him, feeling his chest rise as he takes a deep breath, ready to speak. 

“Do you remember my mate Conor? From the Paddy’s Day party?” 

As if Luna could forget the way Conor’s brother had cornered her in the kitchen. She nods, and Niall exhales quickly. 

“Well he works at this pub down  in Dublin, helps manage it actually, and he rang me this morning while I was at work to ask if I wanted to come down and do a bit of a gig at the weekend.” His eyes are trained on the ceiling, his chest still as he holds his breath, waiting for Luna’s reaction. 

“Niall,” Luna sits up in bed, and, finally, Niall looks at her. She can’t quite figure out why he looks so nervous. “This is fucking amazing.” 

Niall breathes out a giggle, hands coming up to cover his eyes for a second. When he moves them and looks at Luna again, they’re sparkling wet. “I know it’s nothing big, just a mate doing a favor but I—my first gig in Dublin, Lunes.” 

“It is something big,” Luna doesn’t even try to temper the excitement in her voice—Niall never makes her feel embarrassed about how she reacts to things, not the way Ida, the way her old job, used to. “It’s something massive, actually, Niall. I’m so proud of you.” 

Underneath Luna, Niall flushes beautifully, his pale skin warming up with pride, love, a little embarrassment. Luna feels an impossible swell in her chest, a balloon of pride that she can’t keep from flying away, that makes it impossible to act like the chill, unbothered, cool girl she’d tried so hard to be in New York. Instead, she cups Niall’s cheek with her hand, feeling the way his skin burns up under her fingertips, and leans in for a kiss. 

-- 

And so, Luna takes her very first trip to Dublin. 

Niall can’t wrap his head around it, the fact that Luna’s been living on Inis Mór all this time and has never been off the island—not even to Galway, the closest mainland city—and Luna can’t quite figure out how to explain to him that nothing off the island is of interest to her when the island has him. Instead, she tells him it’s all for the best, anyway, that he’ll be the best tour guide or her first foray into the rest of Ireland. He smiles, and  wraps his arms around her middle on the ferry over to Galway, his body sheltering her from the violent wind and the bitter cold. Spring is tantalizing in the air, Luna can smell it in her every breath, but winter clings on nonetheless, biting and threatening. 

On the train ride from Galway to Dublin, Luna and Niall sit across from each other, Niall’s guitar at pride of place in the seat next to him. Niall takes the seat travelling backwards,  so Luna can get a proper view to  watch out the window as the Irish countryside blows past her, a blur of impossible green and infinite horizon. He falls asleep somewhere near Mullingar, in the middle of the country, and Luna finds herself watching him more than the passing landscape—the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the tangle of freckles on his neck, the gentle parting of his lips, the constant, comforting rise and fall of his chest as he dreams. 

They arrive in Dublin late that night, the city illuminated by golden street lights and car headlights in a way the island never is, and as they board the Luas on their way to Conor’s flat Luna finds that she’s not taking in the sights around her, but staring instead at the sky above, squinting, strangely desperate to catch a glimpse of any of the stars that make the Inis Mór nights so bright. 

All she can see are lights from planes, taking their passengers far away.

— 

In the morning, Luna wakes up to the sound of Niall’s laughter. She’s on the air mattress in Conor’s living room, where she and Niall had fallen asleep the night before, and she can tell from the sound of his laugh that Niall’s only in the kitchen, a room away, chatting with Conor. But for some reason, it feels like a million miles. 

She stretches out in bed, the air mattress creaking and deflating underneath her, and lets the sounds of the city wake her up, too, so that if she closes her eyes she can pretend this is New York—can feel like she’s back in Williamsburg, Ida next to her, the city bustling below them. As much as she denies it, as much as she loves her life on Inis Mór, Luna can’t shake the fact that there’s a part of her, small it may be, that misses living in a city. But then she hears Niall again, his giggle from the kitchen, and the feeling slips away without a second thought. 

Niall is where she wants to be. 

She pads into the kitchen, the sleeves of Niall’s sweatshirt pulled down over her fingers, and stills in the doorway for a second, the morning’s first smile working its way across her face as she watches Niall and Conor laugh over some video on Conor’s phone, their heads close together so they can both look at the screen. It hits Luna like a pang in the stomach, the fact that Niall is so far away from his friends all the time—the fact that, by staying where he is, he’s losing out on all of this. 

She thinks about herself, too, her early days in New York, before things got so bad. The late nights out with her friends and Ida, crashing at whoever’s apartment was closest to the bar they’d ended the night at, waking up in the afternoon in a pile on the couch, heads throbbing with hangovers and someone, the least hungover usually, standing with her phone out, writing down everyone’s order for the bagel place. Looking at it now, a million miles away, a whole ocean between it all, Luna knows that those moments were the most precious: those exhausted mornings, giggling over Snapchat stories from the night before, splitting bagels so everyone could get at least one bite of every flavor. There was no better feeling than that—nothing more intimate than the morning after the night before. 

Standing in the doorway of Conor’s flat, Luna realizes that Niall hasn’t had the chance to have any of those mornings. 

He hasn’t let himself. 

“Hey, petal. You’re up!”

Luna shakes herself out of her thoughts, eyes focusing on Niall, who’s looking at her with a smile on his face that makes her heart flip the same way it did back in January, when he walked into the cafe for the first time, wind blown and nervous. “We made a fry up, I put yours in the oven to keep it warm.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, her voice coming out a little croaky from lack of use. “That’s nice of you.”

“Wasn’t gonna leave you starving,” Niall smiles, standing up and making his way over to the coffee pot. “Sit down, lover, I’ll get your coffee ready too.” 

— 

Despite Luna’s dreams of spending the afternoon wandering around the city hand in hand with Niall, she finds that they hardly have any time to sightsee before they find themselves packed into the pub, Niall sitting next to her on a barstool, jiggling his leg up and down anxiously. It feels to Luna like there are more people in this pub alone than on the entire island of Inis Mór. She puts her hand on Niall’s knee, and feels him calm down, just a notch. 

She’s only on her second Guinness (and Niall’s barely managed to get halfway through his first), but it’s been a long time since Luna’s been drunk in a bar, and she can feel the effects of it—the alcohol coursing through her in a way it only does when you’re surrounded by other drunk people, the heady smell of the bar adding to her intoxication. She’s overwhelmed, like she knew she would be, but it’s not as bad as she anticipated—not scary and claustrophobic, but fun, something new and different and familiar, all at the same time. She drops her head onto Niall’s shoulder and closes her eyes, safe and sure here, with him by her side. 

— 

Niall gives, without a doubt, the best performance Luna has ever borne witness to. 

He starts playing to a loud, rowdy, packed pub, his voice barely carrying over the sounds of friends chatting to one another, their laughter flitting across the room—but by the time he’s three songs in he’s got the whole place captivated, all eyes on him, smiles on faces and pints raised in the air. By song five people are shouting out requests and Niall’s taking them, slinging a few jokes in between songs, and Luna could swear her heart has never felt so swollen, her stomach never so full with butterflies.  

It’s midway through his set, when Niall makes the ground fall out underneath Luna’s feet. 

“I wasn’t planning on doing this tonight,” he says into the microphone, “because I wasn’t sure anyone would be interested, but you lot seem like a kind enough audience. I wrote this tune myself, if you don’t mind me playing it? It’s called This Town.” 

— 

This Town is about Cormac. Luna can tell from the first lyric. It plays in her head on repeat for the rest of the night—through the rest of Niall’s set, through the heart-stopping smile on his face when he sits back down next to her afterward, through the unfathomable hour of strangers coming up to them and offering to buy Niall a pint for his performance, clapping him on the back and letting him know how much they enjoyed listening. It plays on repeat while Luna tells Niall how proud she is of him, leaning in for a kiss and tasting the Guinness on his lips, the lyrics on his tongue. It plays on repeat through the end of the night, too, Niall helping Conor put away some of the glasses after they lock up, Luna feeling like she’s watching herself through someone else’s eyes, spilling beer everywhere when she tries to help. 

Niall cleans up her mess without a single complaint, but Luna can’t stop feeling sick to her stomach. 

This Town still plays in her mind late that night, when Niall goes down on her in Conor’s living room, the air mattress rocking below them, and it plays in her mind the next morning, when they finally do walk hand in hand through Dublin, Niall stopping for selfies every time they pass a tourist spot. It plays on her mind when they board a train to Galway in the early afternoon, and, still, on the ferry back to Inis Mór late, late that night. Niall drives her home and they make out in the car for ages, his hands up under her sweater, windows open to let the spring air in. It smells like Niall and newness—the coming warmth, the longer days, the hope and life and breath that spring brings to everything. 

It smells, to Luna, like everything thawing away. 

— 

Luna’s grateful for work on Monday, the constant orders and customers a distraction from the feelings that she knows are out of line. Niall adores her, she tells herself as she brings Mr. O’Keefe his usual coffee, a song is just a song, and nothing more. 

But it’s hard to shake, Niall’s voice, “over and over, the only truth, everything comes back to you.” For so long, Luna realizes, Niall’s voice has been something special for her—something she hears in her cafe, in her bedroom, in her bathroom when the shower is on. Niall’s voice is the soundtrack to her washing dishes, to her curled up on the sofa reading while he plays guitar across the room. It’s the soundtrack to long car rides in the middle of the night, the moon and stars illuminating the cliffs ahead just for them. It’s the soundtrack to them, to Niall and Luna, and it hurts her more than she thought it would—more than it should—to realize that she has to share that with the rest of the world. 

When Niall bustles into the cafe that evening, Luna can’t hide her excitement. It feels like a million years, a million miles, since last night, when he pulled her in for one more kiss before driving home to his mom’s house. His cheeks are redder than usual when he comes up to the counter, despite the warm spring day outside. 

“Hiya,” Luna leans over the counter for a kiss, her anxieties melting a little when Niall’s lips meet hers. “You alright?”

“Lu,” Niall’s breathless, handing his phone to Luna across the counter. “Look at this.” 

She glances down at his phone, open to the YouTube app, and her hands start to shake before Niall speaks. She knows exactly what’s happening—it used to be her job, to help make things like this happen. 

“Someone recorded my gig down in Dublin,” he’s telling her, his voice so distant that it sounds muffled, distorted, in Luna’s ears. “It has a million views on YouTube, Lu. It’s—I’m going viral. People are asking if it’s on Spotify, I even had to take my Instagram page off private. Conor says I should come back down for another gig, people have been asking after me. I—Lu. I think we made it.”

####

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[floralguccistyles]

oh my goodness guys, this is the last chapter of wildflower before the epilogue. I will gush over all the feels in the epilogue, so please enjoy this chapter until then.

wildflower :: chapter five

...and kisses you

My eyes were crusted with sleep, even though I had probably gotten only an hour.

My apartment still held enough stuff for me to sustain a healthy-ish habitation for about three days. Eventually, I would have to go back to Lily’s apartment and get some work clothes and my makeup products. For now, however, I just cuddled deeper into my blanket and stared at the window. 

I knew my phone would have a thousand and one text messages and missed calls from Lily. I knew the responsible thing to do would be to let her know I was okay and safe and that everything was going to be fine, but the truth was...I didn’t know if everything was going to be fine. Seeing Kent had shaken something in me, but what was even worse were the feelings of betrayal and stupidity.

I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years.

That meant every school dance, every family movie night, every trip to Matilda’s doughnut shop, he had been hiding his feelings. And I felt betrayed. Not because I had suspected he would end up with Lily. But because I felt...dumb. I felt oblivious for not knowing, especially when my sisters seemed to. I felt betrayed because it was like everyone was in on it except for me.

And I felt betrayed because maybe if I had known earlier…

I groaned, rolling over to stare at my ceiling. I didn’t want to focus on the what ifs. The damage was done. I had a crush on Niall, he may or may not still be in love with me, and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

Eventually I pulled together enough willpower to pick up my phone. As expected, I had thirteen text messages and six missed calls from Lily. She seemed to have told Violet as well, because even my younger sister had texted me with a hesitant, you okay? But the one thing that made me sit up in my bed was the voicemail notification from Niall.

“Hey Rose. Lily’s freaking out. She doesn’t know where you went. We’re trying to give you space, obviously, but could you just confirm where you are? Violet thinks you’re at your flat, which is fine. Just let someone know, yeah? I’m...we’re worried. I get it if you never wanna speak to me again. I just...I’m sorry, Rose.”

I replayed it back. And then a third time.

And then I grabbed my purse and dug around in it until I found what I was looking for, crumpled at the bottom and sprinkled with what might have been biscuit crumbs. My hands shook when I held it, but I took a deep breath.

“Premier Health Services Center, how can I help you?”

~

I had only been to a therapy office once.

It was shortly after we had moved from America to Ireland. I was a little too young to know what was going on, but my parents had wanted us to see a therapist just once to make sure we were adjusting well. From what I remembered, he was a very nice man who smiled a lot. I’m sure four-year-old Rose talked his ear off and he reported back to my parents with full confidence that I was adjusting just fine.

Somehow, I didn’t think this appointment would go the same.

The office itself was nice. It was decorated with muted shades of navy blue and white furniture. I imagined this relaxed some people, but all I could think of was that this place needed some color. My knee bounced up and down and I stared at the clock. My appointment was scheduled to start in two minutes, and I suddenly wished I had scheduled an early morning appointment so I would be too tired to try and escape.

Doctor Hildegunn’s door opened and an older man stepped out of the office, holding a tissue in his right hand. I assumed he wasn’t Doctor Hildegunn, considering I had seen a picture of the therapist and she was a tiny Swedish woman. I found her walking behind him, giving him a gentle smile.

“Have a good day, Devon,” she said to the man, her voice soothing and soft. I wondered if that’s why people liked her so much. “Rose Fairbrough?” Her eyes cut across the space to me, and she smiled again.

I nodded, ceasing my knee-bouncing and standing up. I took hesitant steps into her office, which thankfully had more color than the lobby of Premier Health Services Center. Her chair was green velvet, like one of those couches straight out of the 1970’s, and I found myself relaxing a bit. Books littered her wall behind her, ranging from psychology books to what looked like William Shakespeare.

The couch she gestured for me to take a seat on was the same green velvet of her chair. I gingerly moved the throw pillow so I could sit, returning my leg to it’s knee-bouncing. “Um, my sister recommended you. She’s a student at Dublin University.”

She nodded. “Violet. She’s one of my clients. She told me she was going to ask for my card for you.”

“Right. And,” I gestured to her office, “here I am.”

“And what do you want to discuss today?”

I raised a brow. When I had made the appointment, I had specified that it was because of a sexual harassment that I thought I needed to work through. At my quizzical look, she grinned.

“This appointment is about you, Rose. We can jump right into the sexual harassment, or you can talk to me about your family. This is about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about my family,” I said, shaking my head. “I just...I want to get over this whole thing. I ran into...my harasser, I guess...two days ago. I just froze.”

“Do you feel comfortable sharing the details of the harassment?”

“It’s not severe or anything. I think that’s why I was so hesitant to make an appointment in the first place. I know people have been through worse, and I didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal.”

“If it’s affecting you and your daily life, it’s a big deal, Rose,” she said softly.

And it was affecting my daily life. It had been affecting my life for the last year. So I told Doctor Hildegunn about Kent’s proposal, about not feeling safe at my job and the shitty response from Human Resources, and I told her about seeing him outside of the antique store. I told her that I was afraid to sleep alone, so I hadn’t slept in my apartment for a year.

But then I started talking about other things.

I spoke about how I was sad to give up my apartment, and about how I felt about Lily and Violet going behind my back to try and get me to a therapy appointment, and about how I pushed away the people I loved and who loved me.

I didn’t dare mention what had happened with Niall. I didn’t think my heart could take it at the moment.

Doctor Hildegunn listened as I spoke so much my mouth went dry. She retrieved a water bottle from a fridge she had hidden behind the little desk in her office and I took three big gulps as I waited for her to say something.

When she did, it wasn’t what I had been expecting her to say. “Do you genuinely think therapy is going to work for you?”

“W-what?” I stuttered out.

“You said you were hesitant about therapy because you still wanted to feel normal. Do you feel abnormal sitting here in a therapy setting?” 

“Yes,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I know therapy will help, but I just feel wrong sitting here. Maybe it’s the guilt. I mean, the girl at Niall’s school—”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about being affected by what happened to you, Rose. You know that, right? Your feelings are valid.”

I didn’t say anything, just picked at a thread on my sweater.

“At Dublin University, there’s a sexual assault survivor’s group. They meet every Monday at 5:30 PM. I think, if you’re open to that, going to it could be very beneficial. Sexual assault or harassment is a big deal, even if you don’t want to believe it is. There are people in there who feel the same as you. That someone has it worse, so they shouldn’t complain. But this group will allow you to complain, Rose. They won’t judge you. They’ll understand. I’d like to see you once every two weeks, but if you aren’t comfortable with that, we can work something out.” She set aside the little notebook she had been writing in. “Going to therapy and attending these group meetings...they don’t differentiate between what you call ‘Normal Rose’ and the Rose you are now, here getting help. They’re just going to help you transition into a new normal.”

A new normal. The idea of a new normal scared her. She was so used to bottling up how she felt for the sake of others. She was used to staying in the receptionist job because it was secure and safe. 

And she was used to how things were with Niall.

“Here’s the information for the group,” Doctor Hildegunn said, handing me a bright yellow sheet of paper. “Try it out, see if you like it. And if you’d like, we can schedule an appointment here in two weeks time.”

I left the office with a therapy appointment in two weeks and the bright yellow sheet of paper tucked underneath my arm. I put it in my car’s glove box for safekeeping, knowing that the time and place of the meeting was seared into my brain. 

My phone beeped with a text. I was expecting it to be Lily, since I had blearily texted her yesterday morning before I had made an appointment with Doctor Hildegunn that I was safe, but to my surprise, it was my younger sister’s name that popped up.

How’d it go? Doctor H is really cool.

On a whim, I pressed the green phone button next to her contact.

“Rose? You good?”

“I have a favor.”

“Yeah, I’m good too. Got a ninety-seven percent on that biology test I was stressing about. Thanks for asking.”

“Do you want to go apartment hunting with me today?”

It was silent on her end. “Flat shopping? You...you aren’t gonna live with Lily anymore?”

No, I decided. No, I wasn’t. “No. I need to get my own place. And maybe giving up the apartment I have now is a good thing. I need someplace fresh. So, will you go with me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Lily?”

She tried hard to mask it, but I heard the hopeful lilt to her voice. I never called her out of the blue to hang out with her, and I definitely didn’t include her in big life decisions. It was always Lily I ran to. And while Lily was still my rock and would be until the end of my days, when I heard Violet sound so hopeful, I knew I had made the right choice.

“Nope. I’ll pick you up in twenty. We’ll get some coffee.”

“Okay,” she said, and I heard the barely contained excitement. Then, a pause. “But I bought the coffee last time so you’re buying today.”

“Deal.”

~

The second I stepped into Lily’s apartment, I was enveloped in her arms. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, pulling me in close. She backed up and put her hands on my shoulders, then did a double take when she saw Violet behind me. “Vi?”

Violet waved. “Hey, Lil. We’re starving. Do you have those take-out menus in that kitchen drawer still?”

Lily gestured in the direction of the kitchen with a confused look on her face, like she was still trying to piece together why Violet was at her apartment and why we had come there together. Violet went off in the direction of the kitchen, rummaging around in the drawer as Lily pulled me over to her couch.

“Are you feeling alright? Why is Vi here? Not that I’m complaining, but it was kinda the last thing I expected.”

“She was helping me go looking for apartments.”

Lily’s brows furrowed. “You went apartment shopping? But....but Rose, you know you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

I did know that. And I loved Lily for it. “I know. But I’ve got to get out and start living my own life again. I think getting a completely new place might help. Also, I went and saw Violet’s therapist today.”

“Oh yeah, how was Doctor H?” Violet asked, coming back into the living room with the menu for a Vietnamese restaurant in her hands. “We all good with pho for dinner?”

I told them about the appointment. “She also suggested I go to this support group. She thinks I might like it better than therapy. I’m going to try going once every two weeks to meet with her, but I...I don’t know if therapy is right for me. I know you guys want me to go, but I’m just gonna try this group. Can you live with that?”

To my surprise, it was Violet who clapped my shoulder in an encouraging gesture. “Yes, Rose, we can live with that. We just want to make sure you’re talking to someone. You don’t really talk to us about this kinda stuff, and I know it’s shitty for you to keep it all in.”

“Woah,” I said, unable to stop myself from lightening the mood, “someone’s getting philosophical.”

She grabbed one of the throw pillows and hit me across the face with it.

“Now the next order of business,” Violet added, looking towards me, “what are you gonna do about Niall?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was I going to do about Niall? “Lily you’re...you’re sure you don’t love him?”

“I never did love him, Rose. And I can assure you he never loved me. Nothing past how best friends love each other. If I did like him in that way, I can assure you it would have been squashed by the amount of times he talks about you when I’m with him.”

“He talks about me with you?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “How have you not noticed? The man doesn’t shut up about you.”

“I never noticed. Maybe I just didn’t want to notice, because the idea of liking Niall like that was off limits to me. I thought he was going to end up with Lily.”

“Well, do you think you could like him?” Lily asked.

I did think I could. I think there was always a small part of me that had, buried somewhere under the surface. It was why I always felt lighter around him, like the weight of the world transferred from my shoulders when he walked into a room. “I don’t know if I love him as much as he loves me. Not yet. And I don’t want to hurt him.”

“He’ll understand that, Rose. He sprung it on you. You just need to talk to him.”

But did he even want to talk to me? I hadn’t outright denied him, because he had left before I could process his confession, but I had hurt him. I had so carelessly uttered the words that unknowingly hit their target; he wasn’t my boyfriend. 

Lily’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, and we all stared at it. It was her ringtone for Niall, so there was no question about who it was that was calling her. She reached for it, answering it and bringing the phone up to her ear. It was so silent between the three of us that I was sure I could hear the trees shaking in the wind outside.

“Hey, Ni,” Lily said, looking towards me. “Yeah, she’s here. She spent the night at her apartment the past two nights.” She paused, listening to his response. “I’ll ask her.” Pulling the phone away from her ear, she put her hand over the speaker so she could whisper to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

I held my hand out for the phone. Violet leaned in to try and hear what Niall would say, but Lily slapped her arm and gestured for me to go into the other room. As I padded across the hardwood, I listened to Niall breathing on the other line. “Hey.”

“Thank Christ you’re alright. No matter how mad you are at me, please don’t ever leave without a word like that again, okay? You had Lily and I worried sick.”

I smiled a little at his worrying. “Alright, Mom, I’ll check in next time.”

He laughed, and the sound sent a trill of longing through me. The chuckles tapered off, though, leaving us in silence again. “And are you? Mad at me, I mean?”

“Niall, why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I pushed. I should have respected your boundaries. I was just so...fucking disgusted about what that asshole had done to you. I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have.” I heard movement on the other end, and I could imagine him running his hand through his hair. “And then I sprung what I did on you—”

“Can I come over?” I interrupted.

“You...you wanna come over?”

“Yeah. I just think we should probably have this conversation in person.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay. You can come over.” It was impossible to miss the nerves in his voice.I could envision him standing in his living room, destroying the perfect hairstyle he’d constructed himself because he kept nervously tugging at it. “I’ll see you in a few, then.”

“See you in a few.”

I hung up the call and handed Lily’s phone back to her. Looking between her and Violet, they were both looking at me with questions in their eyes. They wanted to know what the hell was going on with Niall and I. But if I were being honest, I wasn’t really sure what was going to happen either. 

“Well...are you going to change? Because you look rough,” Violet said after a few quiet moments. Lily reached out to slap her arm again, but I oddly found myself grinning.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.” I started walking to my room only to hear Violet shout something about me needing to look sexy, which resulted in a cut off grunt when Lily hit her with a pillow. 

Dressed in a white cropped top and red flared jeans (that made my butt look amazing, if I said so myself), I walked back out into the living room and let my sisters approve of the outfit. Lily was quick to toss my keys at me, promising that she’d drive Violet wherever she needed to go so I didn’t have to rush home. 

As the two of them sat on the couch and argued over whether or not I should wear a sweater, I was filled with affection for the both of them. I knew things wouldn’t change overnight, but seeing us hang out like this made my heart warm. “Hey,” I said softly, interrupting their bickering. “I just wanted to say thanks. For worrying about me. I...I know I might not show it much, but I love you guys.”

“Gross. Who are you and what have you done with Rose?” But Violet was smiling as she said it, rolling her eyes when Lily stood up and immediately hugged me. “Well now I just feel like a bitch if I don’t join in the group hug.”

Hugging Violet was a new experience. Of course, as her sister of twenty years, I’d hugged her before. But this felt different in a way I couldn’t explain. When we all pulled away, I flicked her in the forehead and laughed at her protest. 

“Now go and get your man! Your butt looks great in those jeans, by the way!”

I wasn’t really sure which sister had yelled it out to me, as I was already halfway out the door by the time it reached my ears. I hopped down the steps in front of Lily’s apartment, slid into my car, and drove the road to Niall’s place. As I loomed closer, my heart started pounding wildly in my chest. 

I knew there were consequences. What if I told him I wasn’t quite at love yet with him, and he rejected me because he’d spent too many years waiting? What if he realized, like I had, that I pushed people away and he decided it wasn’t worth it? 

My car slowed when I passed by his apartment, but my heartbeat didn’t. He was already waiting outside, standing on his porch in jeans and a light purple shirt that looked amazing on him, just as every piece of clothing he owned did. He was watching me with those incredible blue eyes, filled with wariness. 

“Hi,” I said breathlessly when I got out of my car and walked to meet him.

“Hi.” He frowned at my arms. “Christ, you cold? C’mon, I don’t want you to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but he wasn’t listening. He was fidgeting to try and get me inside, to prolong the inevitable. He led me to his couch and made sure I was comfortable before setting a little coffee cup in front of me. I swallowed, my breath catching in my throat when I saw the words written on the side.

I’m sorry, Rose.

“I am sorry. I know I probably ruined everything. I hurt you by demanding you go and see the therapist, and I handled the whole thing in such a rotten way. I’m just—”

I didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and throwing my arms around him. I pulled him close, impossibly close, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to sink into my skin and melt into my bones. “It’s not your fault, Niall. I don’t want you thinking that.”

His arms were slow to wrap around me, but when they did, his entire body relaxed in a sigh. And despite my worries, I knew that we were going to be okay. If we ended up something more, I would be ecstatic, but if we didn’t, I knew we would survive. We’d push through, just like we had with everything else. Because Niall Horan was not something I was willing to lose.

Still holding him in my arms, I pulled my face away from where it had tucked under his chin and briefly pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can get over these feelings, Rose, I swear, but you’ve got to give me time.”

“What if I don’t want you to get over them?”

He drew me away from him, eyes wide as he stared at me to see if there was any hint of joking on my face. I didn’t know if he was satisfied with what he found, but I continued on.

“I like you, Niall. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve liked you as long as you have me, but I need you to know that it’s not one-sided. When you said you...you loved me...I was caught off guard, but I was never angry with you. I was angry with myself because I didn’t want to hurt you. And I did, even though it was the one thing I wanted to avoid more than anything. You always feel things so much, and I think that’s always scared me. I’m terrified because you love me, and I just don’t know if I’m there yet. These feelings for you are new and I’ve barely had time to adjust to them myself, and I don’t want to hurt you by not loving you as much as you love me. But I can, Niall. I can love you that much, I promise. You just have to let me try. You can’t give up on me. If you don’t want to, if this is too much work, I understand.”

He was silent for a moment. His eyes were on mine, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The color had always been beautiful to me, but now there was something else there. An emotion I realized was pure happiness. And then, feather light, his hand raised and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“But...you do have feelings for me?” I mutely nodded and was completely unprepared for the smile that grew on his face. “I’ve been waiting ten years to hear that you love me, Rose. I can wait a little longer.”

My nose wrinkled. “Don’t call me Rose. It feels weird. It’s Rosebud or nothing else.”

His laugh was loud and clear, the kind that I realized I had only heard around me. It was his Rose-laugh. “I can live with that.” Some of the mirth left his eyes, but he was still smiling at me. “Can I...can I kiss you?”

I grinned. “You don’t have to ask, Niall.”

“Yes, I do.”

I brought my hand up to his face and smoothed my hand over his cheek. “I know you do. And I really, really like you for it. Now shut up and kiss me, Horan.”

“If I’m not allowed to call you Rose, you are absolutely not allowed to call me Horan.” Before I could protest, his hands were on my cheeks and his lips were on mine.

I don’t think I ever thought about what kind of kisser Niall would be. Even in my little short fantasy at the antique store, I hadn’t really imagined what it would be like kissing Niall. I had just imagined that it would happen. However, as his lips slanted over mine, I was happy I hadn’t imagined it.

Nothing I could have thought up would ever hold up.

His hands were on either side of my face, his thumb running back and forth across my cheek. They moved to my neck, tipping my chin up and giving him better access to my mouth. His lips were smooth and soft, moving against mine lightly. But I didn’t want lightly. I wanted him to kiss me like he meant it. 

I moved my own hands to his hair, pulling him closer and leaning up on my knees on the couch. He let out a breathless laugh against my lips, his arms moving to wrap around my waist. My mouth pressed incessantly against his, never drawing too far away from him before he pulled me back. He ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, and the feel of it made me sigh out, so incredibly happy that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Did I mention,” he asked between nips and bites and licks, “that your arse looks great in those pants?”

“That’s what Violet said.” I continued kissing him, unwilling to stop. “And that was kind of the point.”

“It’s not really fair.”

I shrugged, pulling away long enough to press a kiss to his throat. He groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “That was also kind of the point.”

“I mean, you’re killing me.”

“And you’re not getting it.” Another quick bite to his lower lip. A moment where his hands slid lower on my hips. “The point.”

He grinned sweetly, pulling away from my mouth. “You kill me no matter what you do, Rosebud.”

“How about when I accept the job offer? Do I kill you then?”

“You’re accepting it?” He laughed, wrapping his arms fully around my waist before standing from the couch. A rather unsexy squeal left my lips and I clamored against him, trying to hang on to his shoulders as my feet suddenly left the ground. “I’m happy for you, Rosebud. And yes, even then, you kill me.”

“I will legitimately kill you if you don’t put me down.”

“No can do, sorry. I just got you in my arms, I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Even though his words were incredibly cheesy, I couldn’t help but smile. “Dork.” 

The look on his face, the lightness in his eyes. I caused all of those things. I was the reason for them. The knowledge of this sent a thrill up my spine, and had me smiling softly at him, unable to resist reaching out and touching his chin, pulling him towards me for another mind numbing kiss. “Thank you for loving me, Niall.”

“It’s the easiest thing in the world, Rosebud. You know what won’t be easy though? Giving Violet her five hundred bucks.”

My eyes went wide. “You knew about the bet?!”

“Your family is very bad at keeping secrets. I reckon it worked out though, yeah?”

I stared at him, focusing on the happiness I felt. “Yeah, it worked out.”

He silenced my thoughts with another kiss.