#(that irish girl thing is very much a genuine thing. like if you just dropped into my dms and just sent a voice note and nothing else

[gregmarriage]

i forgot that ppl know what my voice sounds like, bc i was about to make a whole post about hearing my own voice on mic, then i was like, yeah no, ppl are aware my voice is weird imaoooo

[saintsenara]

what is the American performed earnestness? I'm an American who loved parks and rec so I'm really curious

(I love your blog btw!)

go into any shop or restaurant and you'll see.

because - to be clear - it is something different from the fact that americans are much more verbally emotionally demonstrative than the irish [and the british], which - while it can certainly cause some misunderstandings and lead to some friction - is a harmless quirk.

which i think - anon no. 2 - is the thing with new girl.

the characters and the way they live their lives is - unsurprisingly - completely, one hundred percent american. but it's sincere - and its earnestness, however much it would be a bit jarring if the characters were dropped into my actual life, comes across as real - rather than performative.

parks and rec, in contrast, just always feels to me like the worst excesses of american customer service culture. it's not that it's optimistic or emotionally demonstrative [i like lots of media which is sweetly upbeat] - it's that everything about most of its main characters feels inauthentic, like it's pretending to give a shit about you because it's hustling for tips, rather than because it's genuinely interested.

[partially because they're all horrible people, but the show is very selective about who it's prepared to acknowledge that about. someone like liz lemon or dee reynolds or lindsay bluth - while ostensibly much worse than leslie knope - comes across as more rounded and genuine because the writing is prepared to acknowledge them as having flaws beyond "she cares too much!!!!1!!"]

and look, when i'm in the states, i get on board with that - i tip properly and i smile politely while being constantly bothered by waitstaff, and european customers who don't need to tighten up - but i breathe a big enough sigh of relief once i'm back on surly and disinterested soil that i'm not going to voluntarily engage with it via leslie knope...

[lured-into-wonderland]

He was, indeed, an interesting person. The one that made her genuinely laugh (what was so rare these times). He made her laugh about herself. About him (at least a bit) and about life in general. Nunnally didn’t understand why he made her feel that way, but he did and that was important.

“Beer is bitter.” – she commented trying to remain serious, but she only said that as Duncan had used the word 'bitter' to previously describe tea and coffee – “If anything is bitter, then it is beer. I don’t like it.” – she said it with a pout of a small girl complaining about something she couldn’t get; but she only tried beer once or twice. It wasn’t her drink. – “I like wine. It can be dry or sweet. I don’t mind. And I never had whisky. Just like you.” – a moment of silence – “I can get a bottle for us to try…if you'd like of course…” – she quickly added as if she was expecting him to complain again.

“Why would inviting a friend for a cup of tea would be a sign of being crazy?” – she asked him with the most innocent expression on her pretty face; she had understood what he meant, but still preferred to act as if she hadn’t. But her eyes were smiling and sparkling and it was obvious she was enjoying their conversation.

“Never say never.” – she hummed cheerfully as a response to his claim that he would never become a tea drinker – “You’re talking too much about money.” – she scolded him lightly – “Gentlemen – such as yourself – shouldn’t talk about money with ladies such as myself. It’s impropriate.” – not that she truly minded; it was just a fun thing to say, Nunnally assumed.

“It may be. But it would mean I am a pretty lucky person.” – she was not in her own opinion, but that was nothing she was willing to inform him about – “Oh, see you just gently patted my head. Like an older brother who is worried.”

“I can adopt you into my family.” – she added, half-jokingly and half-seriously – “I still think you’re nice no matter what you say. Many says I am a spoiled princess and I am definitely not the one.” – well, perhaps a little bit, but that was another thing he didn’t have to know. This thought and his comments about the past made her mood drop. But not for too long. She shook her head and waved her hand as if to dismiss the dark clouds; both these that darkened the atmosphere between them and the real ones on the sky – “I guess you are right. But even if the past matters, it’s better to pretend it doesn’t…even if sometimes it haunts us…” – no, she didn’t want to say that very last sentence. But Nunnally quickly jumped into a good mood again: --

“It’s nice to meet you Duncan. And you have a beautiful name. Like the king of Scots. Do you have Scottish origins? My name is Irish but I have no Irish ancestors. At least not any I would be aware of…” – she tiled her head…

“Yes, there is something kingly about you…”

He noticed some of her amusement, but since she didn’t outright laugh he didn’t mention it.

Listening to the woman, Duncan frowned a little, realizing how it sounded - which made him frown, grumpy.

“I got my fair sips of tea and infusions. They all tasted like grass, often bitter.”

His frown seemed to deepen but… It was nearly looking like a pout.

“Black coffee is too bitter too. I add milk, sometimes sugar.”

He could be honest about it, it wasn’t like this strange woman would judge him for that, right ? And he was feeling just a little bad for the way he worded it all.

The part about alcohol made him snort, offering a welcome distraction. “Whisky. I don’t think I ever had some in my life, and I surely couldn’t get it now. It’s one pricey drink. Beer is cheap.” Beer was also bitter, but he was used to it. At least it didn’t taste like grass.

His stare dug into her, expression incredulous. “Invite me. For tea.” Impossible to say which bit was the most shocking. “Girl, you’re crazy.”

He stated with absolute lack of doubt in his voice.

Oh, now she was laughing ? Duncan squinted, arms crossed and glaring a bit. What was so funny ?

“There’s no chance I’ll become a tea drinker. Tea’s actually expensive as fuck, when you look at the price by weight.”

Apparently she was laughing about herself rather than him, so he didn’t take too much offense in it. He huffed as she confirmed his doubt.

“I’m not surprised. I guessed it in basically a few minutes.”

Duncan could worry about attracting attention, but with the weather, there wasn’t much risk yet.

“I vote for cheeky luck. But it won’t save yar ass all the time, you better pour sense into your head.”

For emphasis, he gave her head a little knocking. Nothing hurtful.

He took his hand back to himself and even moved backward, as much as the little space allowed it, face grim.

“A nice person. You’re very dumb then. I’m not one. Never had been, even if I try to not be so bad these days. But saying you don’t think I’ll hurt you, that’s a stretch. You can’t know that, hell, I don’t know that myself.”

Her affirmation made Duncan do a ‘tsk’ sound, glaring with some anger that didn’t seem aimed anywhere, just being here.

“I disagree. Past matters. You think you can just ignore what you’ve done before and do what you want ?” Despite the ‘you’, he was definitely speaking about himself.

“...I’m not even sure the good you do can balance the bad. Sounds too easy.”

He mumbled, upset, before sighing and raising a hand in his hair, messing them a bit.

“Duncan. Whatever good that’d do to you to know that. What, you really want to play friends and drink tea together ? It’s not just stupidity, you have the worst taste. I’m trouble.” These days there was little chance Duncan could bring problems to this girl, except if a band of punk found him provocative and chose to attack her for punishment, but it was better to not encourage her. She seemed nice, but fragile. And dumb. He didn’t want to be responsible for her being hurt.

[aghoulishtale]

more than meets the eye

Nathan Young x Reader // Misfits 

Request: “oc or y/n picks him up after community service, and she’s all bubbly and sweet, so everyone is shocked why she would be with someone like him” for @not-just-fantasy

Word Count: 875  Warnings: none 

[gif]

You pushed open the community centre doors, your car keys swinging on your finger as you stepped in. A woman was leaving at the same time as you were entering, so you stepped to the side holding the door open for her to go through. She looked at you with surprise before thanking you. 

“You’re welcome,” you answered her, returning her smile as she walked away. You let the door swing shut and turned to walk further into the centre, halting to a stop when you were met by a group of four watching you, two men and two women, three of them seated in wheelchairs and one leaning against the wall. They were wearing their orange jumpsuits and none of them spoke. 

“Hi,” you smiled, giving them a small wave. They continued to stare at you in silence. “I’m looking for Nathan?” 

“Why?” one of the girls asked, her brows drawn down, genuinely confused as to why someone would be looking for him. Based on the descriptions Nathan had given you, you deduced that this was Kelly. 

“I’m here to pick him up,” you answered, holding your keys up. 

“Hey, babe.” The familiar Irish voice came from the side of you. Nathan walked in carrying a mop, which he proceeded to drop on the floor as he saw you standing there, stepping over it as he made his way towards you. 

“Hey, sweetie,” you replied, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down. 

“Sweetie?” You heard someone sneer, a female voice not belonging to Kelly, as the others all snickered. Nathan shot a glance at them, his eyes narrowing on whoever it was that had spoken. You tilted his head back to look at you.

“Ignore them,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. He returned it eagerly, parting your lips to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass causing you to giggle as you pulled back a little. You weren’t usually so keen on pda, but knowing who was watching and after hearing Nathan’s stories about them you wanted to prove to them that he did in fact have a girlfriend who liked him very much. When he had told you what they had been saying to him, things such as “the only way someone would date you is if you paid them”, he had played it off as a joke, as just a bit of banter between friends, but you could tell that it had hurt him. As well as that, it was also an attack on you as someone who is definitely not being paid to date him, which is why you had taken the day off work to come and pick him up. 

“I’ll just go get change, wait here,” he told you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. You impulsively smacked his ass as he began to walk away, causing him to look back in shock. You winked at him as you smirked, and he grinned, kicking the chair that one of the men was seated in, Simon you figured, as he walked past, wiping the amused look from his face. As Nathan left the room, all focus was back on you.

“What?” you asked them, fed up of their silent staring. They shrugged, muttering over each other. “Well, it’s something, so tell me.” 

“It’s just-” the man leaning against the wall, Curtis, started. “You’re not exactly what we were expecting.” 

“And what were you expecting?” you pushed, intrigued to see if they would be brave enough to say it to your face. They all spoke over each other, stuttering as they tried to find a polite way of saying what they actually meant. 

“You’re so-” / “Not someone that-” / “Someone a bit less-” / “Not so-”

“Nice.” / “Pretty.” / “Happy.”

“Clean” Alisha murmured, receiving a scowl from Kelly, though she didn’t apologise. You pushed your tongue into your cheek as you nodded, the answers surprising you even though you had been expecting them. 

“Nathan’s a good boyfriend,” you spoke carefully, like a parent about to scold their children. “He’s actually a damn good catch, anyone who actually takes the time to get to know him knows that. Have any of you ever actually spent any time with him outside of community service?” Nobody answered, their eyes flicking to each other. “Exactly.” You felt a small sense of pride as an awkwardness filled the room, the four of them looking a little ashamed. They didn’t need to know that you had exaggerated a bit, making Nathan seem more popular than he actually was. He had been a good boyfriend to you so far, and you hoped that maybe now he would be able to enjoy community service a little more. When he came back, he looked confused as to why everyone was being so quiet and refusing to make eye contact with him, walking up to you to loop his arm over your shoulders. 

“I’ll see you lot tomorrow,” he said to them, leading you towards the door. You heard their muttered goodbyes as you walked out, wrapping your arm behind his back to pull yourself into his side as you made your way back to your car. 

Taglist: @bisexualnathanyoung @misskittysmagicportal @nightingale-rose @forenschik @love-is-dirty-baby @slutforrobbiebro @mon-charmante

[chancecunningham]

[JACOB ELORDI, CIS MALE, HE/HIM] who’s that? oh it’s [CHANCE CUNNINGHAM]. i hear they’re [22] and are known as [the FALL FROM GRACE] around [HAWKINS]. they’re also a [STORE CLERK] at [HUNTING & CAMPING]. they’re known to be [+loyal, +protective] and [-sensitive, -aggressive]. some people say they remind them of [high school football hoodies, late night walks, silent family dinners, hooking up at lovers lake]. [rocky, 27, she/her, pst]

BASICS

Full Name: chance james cunningham Nickname: he mostly goes by chance, but also cj, c, chancey (parents only) Birthday: october 25, 1966 Age: twenty-two Zodiac Sign: scorpio☼, scorpio☽, virgo↑ Hometown: hawkins, indiana Sexuality: heterosexual Relationship Status: single Education: high school diploma, some college Major: formerly business (BS) Occupation: store clerk at hunting & camping

TLDR BIOGRAPHY

chance is the oldest of four. in high school, he was very much a good christian boy. kept up his grades, played football, hung out with kids like adam richards and the like. however, after high school, things took a turn. the death of adam and chrissy caused him to spiral and eventually drop out of college and move back in with his parents. now, chance is a bit of a black sheep. he works at hunting & camping and is saving up to move out from his parents’ place. he drinks a lot. he doesn’t have any real connections or meaningful attachments. in short: he’s having a hard time!!!

FULL BIOGRAPHY

chance james cunningham is the oldest of four, but not by much. he's got a brother who is his irish twin and a younger sister, chrissy, who is three years his junior, followed by a youngest brother. growing up, he and his siblings were definitely close. summers on their boat on myrtle beach...christmases falling asleep together by the fire place...very much serving "all-American white picket fence family."

despite loving his siblings, chance has always been resentful of his parents. his dad was a pushover. a beta. chance didn't consider him  the "man of the house" given his complacency about...well, everything. his mom, on the other hand, he considered an undiagnosed psychopath. her high expectations paired with her high maintenance behavior made for a very chaotic household, and chance never responded well to chaos. it was hard for him to watch his mom impose her unrealistic expectations on chrissy and it was hard for him to watch his dad stand by idly. he often felt helpless at home and detached from everything that was happening around him. his avoidance was his coping mechanism.

it was obvious to everyone that knew their family that his mother, laura, favored chrissy over her boys. or maybe "favored" wasn't the right word, but she had the highest expectations for chrissy because she wanted to live vicariously through her. this meant that a lot of the time, the boys could get away with a lot more at home. ultimately, chance never really tried to take advantage of that. despite him disagreeing with his parents about a lot of things, he was still a good christian boy. it didn't always come naturally to him, but he wanted to be a good example and a good brother and a good son. he tried really hard to be. he studied for his tests, he played football and basketball, he dated nice girls. he fit the mold.

part of what made it possible for chance to present like an all-American golden boy type was the fact that he was best friends with adam richards. adam was actually good at heart. he didn't have a chip on his shoulder like chance and he genuinely loved football and his family. what chance had to try really hard to be seemed to come naturally for adam. you are the company you keep. being best friends with adam was easy since he was such a good guy, and chance believed that if he hung out around adam enough, some of that good would rub off on him.

when chance graduated high school, he had plenty going for him. he had gotten into Indiana University and was going to play football there, just like he'd always planned. however, when adam died sometime during his freshman year, football became a thing of the past. it was too hard for chance to play without being reminded of what he'd lost, so he quit. coping wasn't easy, but he did his best...that is, until chrissy died. his sister's death shook him to his core and chance developed anxiety so severe that he could no longer keep up with school. his grades slipped and he eventually dropped out, dragging his feet back home with his head hung low.

his parents weren't happy when chance essentially threw his life away on a whim, but the one good thing he gained from all his loss was that he no longer gave a shit about pleasing his parents or about being good. he was free from the confines of his upbringing. chance moved back in with his parents and immediately got a job at hunting & camping so that he could save up to eventually move out. in the meantime, he hangs out at the hideaway on most nights trying to drown out his grief, always looking for a conquest to not remember come the next day.

summer was chance's favorite season. he liked being able to barbecue and drink during the day and roast in the sun. however, summer of '88 had a twisted energy that was fully amplified by adam and chrissy coming back from the dead. chance had heard the stories. commune in the woods. but all of it sounded bogus. chance was no longer a religious person. he didn't exactly believe in god or anything supernatural, so he was struggling to rationalize why the hell two of the most important people in his life, who he'd buried himself, were suddenly back and acting like nothing happened.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS

Sister (1/1): @thequeenofhawkins

Brothers (1/3): @calcunningham

Best friend (3/3): @goldenboyrichards, @stevehharringtcns, @jackforeman

Drinking buddies (1/?): @mmuscles

Unrequited crush (1/1): @zccming

Lowkey enemies (1/?): @loverboymontgomery​

High school on/off girlfriend (1/1): @rebcrn

​WANTED CONNECTIONS

Former/current hook-ups (1/?): @jofcreman​

Future hook-ups (1/?): @savethevirginia​

[backtohawkins]

WELCOME BACK TO HAWKINS, CHANCE CUNNINGHAM (jacob elordi fc)

good luck and have a bitchin’ summer!

[JACOB ELORDI, CIS MALE, HE/HIM] who’s that? oh it’s [CHANCE CUNNINGHAM]. i hear they’re [23] and are known as [the FALL FROM GRACE] around [HAWKINS]. they’re also a [STORE CLERK] at [HUNTING & CAMPING]. they’re known to be [+loyal, +protective] and [-sensitive, -aggressive]. some people say they remind them of [high school football hoodies, late night walks, silent family dinners, hooking up at lovers lake]. [rocky, 27, she/her, pst]

chance james cunningham is the oldest of four, but not by much. he’s got a brother who is his irish twin and a younger sister, chrissy, who is three years his junior, followed by a youngest brother. growing up, he and his siblings were definitely close. summers on their boat on myrtle beach…christmases falling asleep together by the fire place…very much serving “all-American white picket fence family." 

despite loving his siblings, chance has always been resentful of his parents. his dad was a pushover. a beta. chance didn’t consider him  the "man of the house” given his complacency about…well, everything. his mom, on the other hand, he considered an undiagnosed psychopath. her high expectations paired with her high maintenance behavior made for a very chaotic household, and chance never responded well to chaos. it was hard for him to watch his mom impose her unrealistic expectations on chrissy and it was hard for him to watch his dad stand by idly. he often felt helpless at home and detached from everything that was happening around him. his avoidance was his coping mechanism. 

it was obvious to everyone that knew their family that his mother, laura, favored chrissy over her boys. or maybe “favored” wasn’t the right word, but she had the highest expectations for chrissy because she wanted to live vicariously through her. this meant that a lot of the time, the boys could get away with a lot more at home. ultimately, chance never really tried to take advantage of that. despite him disagreeing with his parents about a lot of things, he was still a good christian boy. it didn’t always come naturally to him, but he wanted to be a good example and a good brother and a good son. he tried really hard to be. he studied for his tests, he played football and basketball, he dated nice girls. he fit the mold.

part of what made it possible for chance to present like an all-American golden boy type was the fact that he was best friends with adam richards. adam was actually good at heart. he didn’t have a chip on his shoulder like chance and he genuinely loved football and his family. what chance had to try really hard to be seemed to come naturally for adam. you are the company you keep. being best friends with adam was easy since he was such a good guy, and chance believed that if he hung out around adam enough, some of that good would rub off on him. 

when chance graduated high school, he had plenty going for him. he had gotten into Indiana University and was going to play football there, just like he’d always planned. however, when adam died sometime during his freshman year, football became a thing of the past. it was too hard for chance to play without being reminded of what he’d lost, so he quit. coping wasn’t easy, but he did his best…that is, until chrissy died. his sister’s death shook him to his core and chance developed anxiety so severe that he could no longer keep up with school. his grades slipped and he eventually dropped out, dragging his feet back home with his head hung low.

his parents weren’t happy when chance essentially threw his life away on a whim, but the one good thing he gained from all his loss was that he no longer gave a shit about pleasing his parents or about being good. he was free from the confines of his upbringing. chance moved back in with his parents and immediately got a job at hunting & camping so that he could save up to eventually move out. in the meantime, he hangs out at the hideaway on most nights trying to drown out his grief, always looking for a conquest to not remember come the next day. 

summer was chance’s favorite season. he liked being able to barbecue and drink during the day and roast in the sun. however, summer of ‘88 had a twisted energy that was fully amplified by adam and chrissy coming back from the dead. chance had heard the stories. commune in the woods. but all of it sounded bogus. chance was no longer a religious person. he didn’t exactly believe in god or anything supernatural, so he was struggling to rationalize why the hell two of the most important people in his life, who he’d buried himself, were suddenly back and acting like nothing happened. 

[sodalitefully]

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU.  Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense! 

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.  

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job.  “Earn some extra cash,” they said.  “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said.  "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.  

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.  

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day.  Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really.  But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.  

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me.  I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer.  "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point.  Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better.  Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume.  As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on). 

“That’s it. I quit.”  He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy.  "What."  

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?" 

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.  

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once.  But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed. 

He was regretting it now.  Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music.  The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials. 

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax.  Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones... 

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly.  In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.  

"I'm fine.  Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh."  The man nodded in understanding.  "It's not, unfortunately.  I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked.  A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.  

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor.  Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old.  But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff!  We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.  

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin.  "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage.  Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something?  That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea.  "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies!  And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.  

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes.  Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee.   Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job.  In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office.  With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.  

Well, there was no time like the present to get started.  Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray.  He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake. 

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter.  In barely legible green marker, the message read: 

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old.  Please give me a skateboard for Christmas.  My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm.  Five years old was a little young for a skateboard.  Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged.  Why not?  All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud.  It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves.  Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone. 

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer.  Could his siblings be right?  He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time.  He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree.  They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.  

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away.  But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand.  He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies... 

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree.  The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?  

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table.  But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye.  There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed.  The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him. 

"Duff!  What are you doing still awake?" he demanded.  Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused.  "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!" 

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff.  "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.  

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents!  I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged.  Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid.  I promise they'll still get their presents, alright?  Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off. 

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break.  Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie. 

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[ariparri]

The Camping Trip

Written by cursedautumn on Instagram. We did another story for art trade and she wrote out another scenario I had in my drafts for a couple of months now. As mentioned in the Flowers Fic, English is not Autumn's first language so she apologizes if there are any mistakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Veruca stepped out onto the summer sunlit porch of a small house in a Scottish forest, closed her eyes, and stretched. It was summer, the wet, green, cool Scottish summer of 1993. Under a sky as blue as Wedgwood porcelain, the emerald plain was spread out with a delicate lavender pattern, and in the distance, there could be seen the Balmoral castle, where their group went on a tour a few days before. In the air hovered a sleepy morning haze, still pale sunlight slid through the trees, the fields and the wooden house, and Veruca, despite the fact that she was dressed in her pajamas, and early in the morning in Scotland wasn't always warm, so it was a little chilly, with pleasure has substituted her face under the breeze and, looking out over the yard, still turned to the door and slipped into the cramped hallway and from there into the kitchen.

The first thing Veruca saw when she entered was a bare swarthy back, and then tousled chocolate hair and funny pajama pants with rabbits on them. The smell of melted cheese and coffee wafted through the small, uninviting kitchen, and there were three pairs of plates on the table covered with a white tablecloth, presumably for him, her, Carson and Tulip, and Autumn with Talbott. Diego was humming to himself and deftly manipulating cups and pans, and he didn't notice Veruca coming up behind him.

"Good morning," she purred. Diego turned around, his handsome face with dark, hot chocolate eyes lit up with a gentle smile. "Good morning," they hugged and kissed. "The others are still asleep. Would you like cheese toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee? We've got a long way to go home today, and we could use a good meal." "You're right, "Veruca agreed. Today they were going to return home from a two-week camping. "Should I wake the others up?"

"Uh-huh," Diego said. "I don't think they're awake yet..." Veruca left the kitchen and climbed the creaking wooden steps that made up the somewhat rickety staircase. The house they had rented while roaming the Scottish castles was quite old and a little out of keeping with the conditions and weather around them, but there was a strange sense of unity with nature, calm and peaceful — that's what this old building could not take away. Autumn had found the house, and at first Veruca had been surprised by her friend's choice: why would the granddaughter of a French count, the heiress of several pureblood families, and a half-aristocrat prefer a lonely old cabin to a posh cottage or hotel?

Autumn was always full of surprises, though. That's probably why she and Veruca understood each other so well and were so close friends... As she went up to the second floor and down the narrow corridor, Veruca couldn't help but remember how, just before the hike, she had come to Coby and told him that she was going to Scotland with her friends and her boyfriend. Coby, who was already wary of Diego, became concerned, and when Veruca made fun of him and told him that she was "already grown up and ready for things that couples in love usually do," he began to look like a madman in his nervousness and worrying. She had expected to just play on her brother's nerves a little, but now, leaving him there, restless and alone, she felt a gnawing sense of guilt. Well, it was a kind of revenge for the real paranoia of the eighties, a major period of her life that had been taken away because of him and R.

"Hey, you!" called Veruca, coming to the next room; Talbott and Autumn were sleeping in the left room, and Carson and Tulip were sleeping in the right. The door on the left immediately opened, and a girl with disheveled dark, almost black hair, beautiful pale skin, and thin hands appeared on the threshold. Autumn hill narrowed her sleepy, transparent eyes and murmured, “Good morning to you, too. What time is it?"

"Almost eight," Veruca told her friend. "Is Talbott up yet?"

"Yeah," Autumn nodded. She looked happy and rested, and it seemed that the reason lay not only in a good two-week hike, charging mental strength. "He's washing up."

Veruca knocked on the door to the right-hand room. A few seconds later, it also opened, and Carson appeared in the doorway, fully dressed in a shirt and shorts. "Oh, you're awake! Come down for breakfast right now!"

At Breakfast, everyone, barely able to fit at the table, chatted casually, pushed each other with their knees at the table and exchanged memories; Tulip rememberd some fun school story and almost made everyone choke. Veruca looked at her friends and thought about how well they had spent their time here — swimming in the forest lake, frying sausages by the fire, walking around Scottish castles and attending fairs and dances.

Here, in nature, Veruca was able to relax a little, forget that her parents had neglected her, that Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, that until recently she had been all alone — in general, about all the bad things that had happened to her over the past two years. Here, in the company of friends, where she was her own and familiar, it seemed to become easier to breathe, and the muscles of her face stopped straining, forever making her serious and sad. With Diego, Carson, Talbott, Autumn, and Tulip, she could be as much herself as she liked and not be shy about it.

"Thank you for breakfast," Veruca said to Diego after everyone had eaten their fill of cheese toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee, washed the dishes, and gone to their rooms to change, and kissed him. Diego immediately responded to the kiss and did not let go of her for a long time. "That's it, that's it," Veruca laughed as he tried to get his hands under her T-shirt. "So, get ready, Romeo! We have to apparate several times to drop everyone off before Coby."

"Oh," Diego drawled in mock displeasure, hugging her. "Alright. But I promise you, you won't get rid of me when we get home, my beautiful green-eyed Juliet." Veruca laughed and threw a pillow at him. Half an hour later, everyone came down to the porch: Carson and Tulip, both wearing identical white shirts with lettering on them: "I'm hers" and "I'm his" in blue shorts and caps, Autumn and Talbott in loose sweaters and light trousers, and Veruca and Diego — she in a dress with a leather belt, he in shorts and a T-shirt with a strange pattern. There wasn't a lot of luggage, so no one was worried about possible problems with apparating. Veruca took one last look at the lush and vibrant Scottish landscape, sighed, and asked, "Home?"

"Home!" Tulip answered loudly, and six people joined hands and disapparated with a pop sound, leaving only an empty house with keys under the rug, the smell of morning in the cramped kitchen, and the sense of human presence in the damp woods near Balmoral castle. Carson and Tulip were the first to drop off. They were saying good-bye to the others for a long time, then held hands and headed for their home. Looking at her happy friends, Veruca thought that the wedding was just around the corner. Then it was Autumn and Talbott's turn to say their goodbyes even longer, because they were planning to leave to Italy indefinitely due to the escalating situation in the country and it was not known how soon they would see each other.

After watching them go, Veruca and Diego finally apparated for the third time, finally to Coby's house. Her brother lived on a lonely Irish island, in a cozy modern cabin, simple and bright. When Veruca entered it, everything inside her immediately became warmer and calmer. She didn't come here very often, but now she and Diego had a little idea for a prank that they were going to put into practice. Veruca didn't expect to frighten her brother too much, but as she walked up the path to the cabin, holding Diego's hand, she chuckled nervously, knowing that Coby would not be indifferent to this "news.”

Diego remained on the narrow stone path that wound up to the house and was surrounded by low green bushes; Veruca went to the low wooden porch with a flowered rug and pulled the chain that hung from the canopy. Somewhere inside the house, a chime sounded like a trill, then there were slow footsteps, and a fewseconds later a dark-haired man appeared in the doorway with a cup in his hands. He was dressed in a shirt and jeans, and his face was pale and sleepy, as if he had just gotten up, though Veruca thought he probably had. Coby McQuaid stared at his sister for a few seconds, then smiled, "Oh, Veruca!"

"Coby!" Veruca dropped her duffel bag and took a step toward her brother. "As you can see, I'm back!"

"I definetely do!" Coby said exaggerated-loudly, as if she'd interrupted his peaceful awakening. "Come in, don't stand on the doorstep." They went into the wood-paneled living room through the hall. Here everything was the same as before: wooden furniture and walls, chequered sofas and the same chequered curtains, a cozy atmosphere and the smell of wood. She sat down on the cushioned sofa opposite Coby, who poured a cup of tea from a small teapot on a low table and handed it to her, "Here you go."

"Thank you," Veruca said, and looked at Coby. He was looking at her. There was a hint of concern in his eyes. "You know, I have so much to tell you!" Over the next thirty minutes, she hurriedly, almost excitedly, told everything she could remember: how Tulip had fallen into the lake, her feet tangled in the grass (she had a special ability to fall out of the blue, or, like that time, getting tangled in places where it was impossible), how Diego had hidden in the tent because a butterfly was flying outside, and yelled when it sat on him, and Veruca fell down the stairs, and Talbott almost burned his hair by the fire, so she told her brother about the whole trip.

Coby listened with genuine interest, but Veruca could see that he was waiting for her to mention something about "adult stuff." Finally, Veruca decided to do it. When she finished telling them how Tulip and Carson had tried to fry sausages and ended up burning them, she giggled, "You know what else happened?”

"What?" Coby asked too quickly. Veruca laid her hand on the back of the sofa, smiled, and said: "Diego made me a woman."

The room remained silent for several seconds. Then Coby dropped the empty cup and it hit the carpet with a thud. Then her brother screamed and threw himself on the floor and rolled around on it, and Veruca heard a muffled cry and mutter; she got up, put the cup down on the table, and craned her neck to see Coby sprawled on the floor, howling inarticulately, beating the carpet with his weak fists. He seemed to be cursing Diego and the whole world for what had fallen on his poor head; Veruca knew it wasn't real grief, just shock, so she didn't rush to reassure him. Coby slammed his fist down on the floorboards. She was both amused by the sight of her brother and somewhat disturbed by the shock that had overtaken him.

Coby muttered, "How so?.. how?.. You're still a little girl!" Veruca decided not to mention that she was nineteen. Coby continued to howl and roll listlessly on the floor. Apparently, he wasn't going to stop, because his torment didn't get any quieter or even a little calmer. The girl slipped past her brother, who was lying on his face, went out into the hall and found herself on the street, hearing a surprised, muffled cry behind her. Veruca ran quickly down the steps, feeling a rush of laughter, and ran down the paved path toward Diego. Coby's screams subsided a little, and then he suddenly yelled sharply, “VERUCA CARLYN MCQUAID, COME BACK HERE NOW!".

"High five!" Veruca laughed, running up to Diego, who was waiting for her where she had left him some time ago. He dutifully gave her a five and looked cautiously towards the hut from which came Coby's cry. "What a reaction!"

"Let's go quickly," Diego laughed, "before your brother decides to cut off our heads."

"Yeah, the main thing is to write him a letter later and explain that this is just a joke," Veruca chuckled and looked around. They joined hands and disapparated with a bang just as a distraught Coby McQuaid threw open the doors of his cabin and ran out; he ran down the winding path, but found neither his sister nor her boyfriend, and cursing, turned and trudged back, feeling as if someone had hit him very hard on the head. And his "little" sister, returning to her home, immediately went to her cabinet, hastily took out parchmentand ink, sat down at the table and began to write a letter, simultaneously remembering the white face of her brother and how he rolled on the floor, learning about her growing up, and laughing heartily.

"Dear Coby,

I hope you're not too nervous...".

[cilldaracailin]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr lovelys!

I am back with the next part of this story and I have left some gift baskets around the story with paper bags, oxygen masks, chocolate, blankets and some more chocolate. Please make use of them as needed as you read this part.

This one is for @hitmeonmytspot​ @fuseburner​ @primaba11erina​ and @turkish276​

Please don’t all come for me at once and perhaps some warning before hand would be wonderful!

Suze xxx

P.S There are a good few Irish words in this part and there is an English translation straight after. I normally phonetically sound out the Irish words but because there are quite a few, I am not going to, unless someone really wants me to.

P.P.S That might just be me on St Patricks Day years ago in my Irish Dancing costume in the picture....

6

“Cleachtadh a dhéanann maistracht – Practise makes perfect”

As she made her way back to her table, she said hello to anyone she knew and as she wandered closer to her seat, she could hear loud laughter and didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved.

“Thanks Robyn.” Taron took his bottle of beer from her and she set the other drinks on the table in front of him.

“So, you are still alive then.” She said pulling a chair over beside him.

“And you too. Claire quiz you?”

Robyn grinned at him. “Just some girl talk.”

“Bloody girl talk.” He muttered before taking a drink from his bottle.

“We have been having a very interesting conversation with Taron.” Shane said wriggling his eyebrows at Robyn.

“It doesn’t surprise me at all.” She answered him. “And have you mauled him yet?” She threw his way, grinning as Shane blushed from ear to ear.

“Robyn!” His voice was a near high pitch squeal.

“And may I remind you that you are married.”

“You are coming out all defensive already Robyn and the evening hasn’t even begun. I was asking him about his time filming Rocketman.”

“I just know what you are like.” She answered him back and felt Taron shift a little in his chair so he could be a bit closer to her.

“He wanted to know about how we filmed the under-water scene.” Taron explained. “And if the hot pants chaffed.”

Another round of laughter circled the table. “It is a valid question and as a gay man, I think it is ok to ask.” Explained Shane.

“And did you get you answer?” Robyn asked as Claire took a seat beside her, carrying a tray with some drinks for everyone else at the table.

“Was waiting for it when you arrived back on your high horse.”

Robyn stuck her tongue out at her male friend and turned her attention to her drink. “Well don’t let me stop the conversation.”

Taron looked from Shane to Robyn and back to Shane before taking a glance at Claire who nodded her head at him and after he had swung his arm around the back of Robyn’s chair, answered the question.

“Not at all. They were actually quite comfortable.”

“They didn’t go up your bum?”

Robyn was mid swallow of her drink as Shane asked the question and some of it dribbled out of her mouth and she sat forward quickly trying to catch the drops in her hand so it wouldn’t get on her skirt. She was thankful for the tissue Claire quickly got her and wiped her chin and her hands before turning to Shane and glaring at him.

“You think you are the only one who can play this game?” She asked him with an edge to her voice.

“What game?” Asked Shane. “It is a genuine question and seeing as how Taron wore some, he has experience in this area.”

Robyn turned to look at Taron and he had one of those little cute half smiles on his face. “You do not have to answer that.”

“Not the way you thought this was going to go, huh chicken”? He asked her his eyes dancing with delight as he took in her angry stare at her friend.

“Chicken?” Claire’s voice took Robyn’s attention away from Shane and to her. “He just called you chicken. Why has he just called you chicken?”

“Ugh, I bloody hate you all.” Robyn threw her body back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, a sulk on her face and pout on her lips.

Taron couldn’t help but laugh at her. He couldn’t have adored Robyn more in that moment and if her friends hadn’t of been around, he absolutely would have tried to poke the pout from her lips but as she was already embarrassed, he shuffled a little closer to her and swung his arm around her chair again, placing a light kiss on her head instead, ignoring the stares he could feel from her friends. Both himself and Robyn had expected the same taunts and heckling he had gotten from his friends but so far it had been the complete opposite and his normally composed Robyn was infuriated with her friends and he was kind of really enjoying the little tantrum she was pulling, something he rarely saw from her.

Still grinning he turned back to Shane. “I honestly can say that no, they didn’t and I am assuming that is either down to the massive size of my arse or the wonderful abilities of the costume designer.”

“Well that is all I wanted to know.” Replied Shane.

Taron nodded. “However, I will stick to my trusty boxers though but give them a go Shane. You might like them.” He watched as the married couple looked to each and winked and Taron turned his attention back to Robyn. “Smile.”

“No.” She answered him.

“Please smile.” He asked again. “Or I will do something drastic to make you smile.”

“No.”

“You are at a table in front of your friends and I will not hesitate at all to tickle you here and now.” He whispered into her hair, pretending he was kissing her head again.

“So…” Robyn sat up on her chair. “How has everyone’s day been.” She saw the beautiful grin on his face from the corner of her eye and allowed a calming deep breath to fill her lungs, the scent of Taron’s aftershave filling her senses as she inhaled, he was still that close to her and it helped to lift her mood immediately.

The table’s conversation was filled with laughter and stories and once Taron and Robyn had again talked through what happened at the 7/11, Robyn’s friends finding it a bit more difficult to hear the story from the man she had saved, the cheeky banter slowed down and the conversation became more about getting to know everyone at the table.

“Does it get draining though?”

“Not so much draining but frustrating.” Claire had asked Taron about his re-shoots and filming the same scene over and over. “You could get it perfect and then the director wants the same scene from a different angle and you could fluff a line or not put the same emotion needed or just not feel as happy as you could be with the performance. I am a perfectionist on set and it works against me sometimes. I can get annoyed very easily with myself if I keep doing it wrong and even more so when I know my mistakes wastes time.”

“Sounds like Robyn.” Said Emma. “Total perfectionist at work, maybe a little bit too much of OCD too.”

“Which came in very handy when we had the inspection last week.” Robyn answered back.

“Well I can’t argue with that. First time I have had an inspection where my staff were complimented.”

“Me too.” Agreed Robyn. “But then I am pretty awesome.” Robyn laughed.

“Fucking awesome.” Corrected Taron, laughing with Robyn at his words.

“Ok share the joke.” Complained Claire.

“Just something one of Taron’s friends said on New Year’s.”

Claire was about to question it again when the microphone screeched a little and their attention was taken by the man standing at the top of the gym. “Beannachtaí Lá Fhéile Padraig!” He said excitedly into the microphone.

“Happy St Patricks Day.” Robyn translated for Taron, grinning as he rolled her eyes at him.

“Kinda figured chicken.” Chuckling as she lightly elbowed him in his ribs.

“So, let me quickly explain how this is going to work. Those of you who have been to one of these before know most dances comprise of four pairs, eight people in total so some of you may need to buddy up with others but it doesn’t mean a group of four can’t figure it out too. I don’t know if you have noticed that your tables have numbers on the them and they correspond to your place on the floor. To help keep everyone in place, we have also put some footprints on the floor too so you can make sure to stand on your footprints, just so we don’t have groups dancing on top of each other. You can come and go as your please but we just ask that you wait until one dance is finished before you come and go, just to keep some sort of order on the floor. I am obliged to show you the fire exits. The way you all came in, three along the wall behind me and three on the opposite side. We will begin very soon and all that is left for me to say is bain sult as duit féin agus ná bíodh imní ort faoi na céimeanna a fháil mícheart. Tá sé ach beagán spraoi agus beidh an craic againn.”

A cheer went up and although Taron clapped along he turned to Robyn with a look that just screamed help.

“Robyn?”

“He said ‘Enjoy yourself and don't be worrying about getting the steps wrong. It's just a bit of fun and we'll have the craic’.”

“Thank you. So, everyone understood that accept me.” He looked around the table at the blank faces.

“What did he say?” Asked Shane.

Robyn quickly repeated the English translation for everyone else at the table. “Not everyone speaks Irish or understands it. Maybe a few words here or there.”

“Hadn’t a clue.” Agreed Shane. “You English taking our native language.” He smirked toward Taron.

“And Taron is Welsh Shane, not English.” She patted Taron’s knee, reassuring him after Shane’s words. “And some of us paid attention in Irish class in school.”

“Wasn’t for me.”

“No but the teacher was! I am surprised you didn’t actually grasp the concept of the language.”

“It wasn’t the language I wanted to grasp!” Shane winked, earning a dig from his husband but he appeased him with a quick kiss to his lips.

Taron laughed and then smiled before looking away from the little intimate moment between the two and he turned his attention back to Robyn.

She noticed the change in direction of his body and turned to him. “So, you ready for a dance?”

“Well to fully embrace my Irishness, yes and I apologise now if I stand on your foot.”

“Well you didn’t in Aber so I think I can trust you.”

“Please remember you said that at the end of the evening.”            

Within the next ten minutes a slight buzz of excitement filled the air as the Irish music stopped and the group of people in charge of the céilí were getting set up around the gym, making sure they each knew which section of the floor was theirs so they could teach the dances to the groups, helping each group as they got into the literal swing of things.

“Ok and we are ready to go! So, if you want to make you way up to your number, we can get you all started.”

Robyn looked around the tables as no one moved. She looked to Taron and tilted her head towards the floor and he immediately stood up and taking her hand skipped with her to the dance floor in the middle of the tables, Robyn giggling at his actions as he found their table number on the floor and stood directly on it.

“And thank you so much Miss Quinn!” Robyn made a fake curtesy to the MC. “And your partner.”

“Dean!” Robyn grinned. “This is Dean!”

Taron looked to Robyn and could only smile at her grin on her face and then back to MC smiling. “Yep that’s me Dean.” He turned back to Robyn. “Seriously. Is there one person in this town who does not know who you are!” He laughed as she pulled a face at him but was distracted from returning his own, when Shane and Darragh stood beside them.

“We’re here too! Ready to Riverdance our hearts out and give Michael Flatley a run for his money.”

The four broke out in laughter and once the other tables saw Robyn, Taron, Shane and Darragh get up first to the floor, they slowly filtered their way up and took their places on the dance floor, the rest of Robyn’s friends joining them.

“So, we’re sticking with Dean huh?” Taron asked he stood beside her with Shane and Darragh opposite them in a square shape, the other four from their table behind them in the same square formation.

“Seems to working for you today.” She replied to him.

They were been given a very quick walk through demonstration of the first dance of the evening, The Walls of Limerick.

“Do you know this dance?” Taron asked her.

“This is the only one I would know. We did this in school as kids.” She told him as the music started.

“Ok well I am counting on you then to get these one two threes right.”

Robyn laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. “I think I might enjoy this more than you rocketman.”

The helpers counted everyone in and the dance started. Robyn knew Taron would have no trouble with getting the basic one two three of the Irish dancing step or keeping in time as with his musical ability, keeping rhythm and time came so natural to him but it was more making sure they went in the right direction and she almost convulsed with giggles as he crashed into her as she went to the left while he went to her right and he had to catch her, lifting her in the right direction before he set her down again.

“Stop laughing Robyn!” He muttered as they danced forwards and backwards again but she just made a face with him as she swapped places diagonally with Darragh opposite her before Shane switched with Taron and holding each other’s hands they spun around in circles.

They stood on the outer square while Emma, Tommy, Claire and Nick had their turn with the dance and Robyn was still giggling away.

“Best night ever!” She laughed. “Oh, I wish I could have videos of these dances!”

“I will get the hang of it!” Taron insisted as he concentrated on watching the dance play out in front of him again. “Not all of us have Irish dancing in our blood or did it as a kid.”

It was a pure look of concentration Robyn had never seen on Taron’s face before and he held her hand firmly when he needed too and made sure his direction was perfect the second time and as he spun Robyn around and back to their place giving the other four their chance to have their turn he did an extra little step, delighted with himself he got it perfect.

“Told you!” He grinned.

“You are a quick learner but I already knew that.”

Once each set of four had danced the set twice more the music ended and a huge roar and applause went up in the gym, Taron clapping enthusiastically with everyone else.

“Oh, Robyn this is just the best Irish thing ever. I am so glad I could come over. I desperately needed something like this to just shake all my stress and anxiety off. Thank you so much.” He gave her a sideways hug and she grinned at Claire who made kissy faces at her, Robyn returning her own to her friend as she stood close with Nick.

The next dance in the set was called The Siege of Ennis and instead of two groups of four, involved all eight, two lines of four standing opposite each other. Every group was given another brief walk through of the dance and it carried the same basic steps as the other, criss crosses, spins and even a bridge of arms. They started off great, but soon the four pairs became a tangle of arms, wrong directions and mountain of giggles and laughter, having to go back to the footsteps on the ground waiting so they could start again. On the second try and with some guidance from one of the helpers, they got through one round of the dance and needed no help for their third and fourth round.

Robyn could see that Taron was thoroughly enjoying himself and his whole demeanour had flipped from that morning, a ridiculously honest smile on his face. She was so delighted that the day had turned positive for him, hating it when he was down over his work though she was still slightly concerned about his upcoming job knowing how he was going to have to dig really deep for the emotion needed for the character he was playing, the reality of the story of an abused son making Taron want to put everything he had into it. Shaking her head, Robyn brought herself back to the present and looked to him as he happily chatted with Emma and her husband and Nick, while herself, Claire and the other married couple stood talking to each other a few footsteps down as they waited for the next dance to begin.

“You can bring him to visit us any time Robyn.” Smiled Shane. “He is a darling and dotes on you something shocking.”

“He does not.”

“Listen here Robyn Quinn, that boy is head over heels in love with you and you may not have noticed the little touches he gives you, like a hand on your shoulder or around your waist but I have and my God I am so jealous of it all.”

“I think you are going to be divorced by the end of today.” Darragh grinned to his husband. “But Shane is right.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at her friends. “We are…”

“Just friends.” They all said together, Robyn frowning at them.

“Does he have to have such a perfect side profile.” Sighed Shane.

“So, I am going to take my husband outside for some air. We will be back.” Darragh placed his hands on Shanes shoulders and guided him out of the hall, Claire and Robyn laughing.

“They are going to do what you and Taron need to be doing.”

“And you and Nick.” Robyn countered. “Which by the way, the spins are not hip to hip spins but hand to hand spins.” She grinned.

“They never specified that in the instructions.” Laughed Claire and she glanced at Nick who was a in fully animated conversation with Taron. “I just want to kiss him.” Claire sighed.

“Then go and kiss him.” Suggested Robyn. “I really don’t think he will mind. He was asking where you were earlier during the choir’s gig.”

“I was watching from afar.”

Robyn watched the hopeless look on her friend’s face. “Claire please just go and talk to him, ask him out! Kiss the man! I absolutely guarantee you that it will be a very positive result and a yes to going for a drink. He is such a wonderful person.”

“So is Taron.”

“We are talking about you and Nick, not me and Taron.”

“You go and kiss Taron and I will kiss Nick.”

Robyn looked to Claire as she gave her the ultimatum and could see the seriousness in her face. “Really?” She asked tilting her head.

“You go and kiss Taron right now before the next dance starts and I will go and kiss Nick.”

“A kiss. Sure, no problem.”

“And not just a kiss on the cheek Robyn. A proper kiss on his lips.”

“Well the same goes for you too.” She watched as Claire’s face faltered a little. “You are going to give out such demands you need to follow through with them on your part.”

“I will.”

Robyn held out her hand and Claire gripped it tight, both girls adding their second hand. It was a well-used promise handshake they had created when making a deal with each other when they kids and had become their tradition as they grew up and once the handshake was made, the deal had to be followed through with or else face a forfeit of the others choosing. Handshake given and promise assured, Robyn grinned to her friend and saluted her. She turned away and prayed no one could see her heart beating wildly in her chest. She only agreed to go through with this stupid plan because she knew Nick was desperate to ask Claire out but both her friends were so hesitant to make a move so if a little kiss from Taron, something she had with him before, would sort them out, she was very willing to do it and not just because she wanted to kiss him. Again. She just wanted to help her best friend. That was what she told herself anyway.

Taron was standing still talking to Nick, Emma and Tommy, a beautiful but tired smile on his face and he was talking with his hands, still about music, specifically the music of Elton John and Robyn knew he was in his element at the moment. His cheeks were a little red from the slight heat in the gym and the two dances they had just danced and he had opened all the buttons of his check shirt, the material now hanging loosely against his body and she was suddenly regretting her quick and sudden deal with Claire, realising she hadn’t actually thought this through properly. Claire would not be happy with a simple peck on his lips, the deal requiring much more and her hands started to shake as she strolled toward the little group. She wished she hadn’t been so rash with her plan to get Nick and Claire together. Her heart was hammering and she could feel her stomach swirling in knots, her hands shaking a lot more and all she could think of was how handsome and gorgeous he looked just causally standing there talking to her friends. He had been such a gent and so wonderful with her friends, getting to know them, willingly sharing stories of his life with them and he was just happy. Pure happiness radiated from every inch of him and it was how she liked seeing him best however now as she walked towards him, she never even considered her end of the deal with Claire and how a kiss with Taron was going to affect her or him and it was suddenly a very bad idea.

“Hey Robyn.” He said giving her one of his trademark grins that spread over his face. “I was filling Nick in on our sing song with Elton.”

A very bad idea but with her head held high she walked right up to him. “You trust me, right?” She simply said.

“Of course. Always.”

“Ok well then trust when I say this is for the greater good in the long run.”

She took one long breath, her lungs filled with a mixture of humid air in the gym and that wonderful aftershave he always wore and it made her a little dizzy but she couldn’t back out and stepped right up to him, taking in his now slightly amused face, his stunning eyes, a light brown colour even in the green glow of the gym, opening wide and searching hers as he looked down to her, his forehead creasing as he raised his eyebrows in an almost question as to what she was up too. She heard and felt the hitch of breath he took as she pressed her body up against his and with her hands going to the back of his neck, lifted her head so she could reach his lips with hers and with perhaps a little more weight at first then she meant to, pressed her lips against his, then keeping them soft and light, Taron immediately tilting his head so their noses didn’t bump, his hands going to her waist pulling her right against him.

He knew what was coming before it happened, the determination in which Robyn walked towards him and the way she looked at him told him what she was going to do, her words of ‘you trust me’ making it so obvious what was going to happen but it did not mean he was prepared in any shape of form for the force at which she kissed him. Robyn stalled against him, her lips just resting against his, not moving at all and it took every part of him not to run away with the kiss. Feeling her silky lips against his caused a rush of electricity through his whole body and he parted his lips a little so her bottom lip slipped in-between his and he did his best to hold in the moan he was so desperate to let go from his body as he gently started to create the tiniest motion of friction so their lips finally moved against each other’s. His head was spinning and he knew if he dared to open his eyes, the room would be twirling around him so instead his closed his eyes tighter and pressed his mouth a little harder against Robyn’s knowing well that her lipstick had already transferred to his lips and not caring that his fingers dug into waist for a mili-second before he brought his hands up to her face. His hands cradled her neck, his thumbs at the edge of her face in front of her ears, giving him an almost better grip on her so he could hold her face in place as he moved his lips more against hers and taking the lead, he dared to move the slightest half inch away from her, her bottom lip falling from his, before he went back in immediately for a second kiss, not even taking a breath into his lungs for fear that if he waited too long he wouldn’t get a second kiss and it was also desperation that spurred him on not knowing if and when he would ever get a kiss like this with her again.

As Taron’s nose brushed against hers once more as he moved his head to tilt his face in the opposite direction, Robyn copied his hand position and moved her hands, pulling his face closer to hers as she felt him pull away, Robyn now taking control of the kiss back, gliding her lips over his before she stood right on her toes so she could capture his top lip between hers, increasing the tight hold on his face and the pressure at which she was kissing him, drawing his lips into hers. The scratch of his facial hair felt so satisfying on her skin and as he parted his lips once more, she let his wonderful damp and velvety lips take over their kiss, Robyn pressing her body further into his, the heat from him only increasing the building temperature between them. Robyn could feel his hands holding her face a little harder than he normally would and his nose swept hers once more as he changed his head’s position again. The way he moved his lips so nimbly against hers, made kissing him effortless and Robyn was very quickly finding it so difficult to keep her restraint and she had to make herself stop kissing him knowing the forth head tilt from Taron was a sign it was long enough but she needed to get one last kiss in and as she pulled away from him went back in to have one more light feather peck, a silent sigh leaving her body as her forehead rested on his, her hands still on his face. Taron leaned in to steal one last and final kiss from her, his lips in a full grin as his slightly wet and parted lips met hers and she could feel the smile on his lips and she knew she had the exact same one on hers.

“Jesus fucking Christ in heaven! What was that!”

Taron and Robyn, whose bodies were still locked together, turned their heads to see Shane and Darragh staring at them, Shane’s eyes open wide, his hands on his cheeks too. Robyn didn’t give him an answer but turned around to stand in front of Taron and looked to Claire with a smirk.

“You’re turn.” She simply said to her friend, her hands reaching for Taron’s which were now around her waist and she was so glad he had a tight hold of her because her legs were like jelly, her head was spinning and her lips were on fire and the heat from Taron’s body felt glorious agasint hers.

Claire was mortified, not believing Robyn would even dare to kiss Taron in such a way, thinking she was going to chicken out but she didn’t. In fact, Robyn had gone above and beyond and shared a kiss with Taron that was extremely intimate, quite thorough and as she witnessed it, could firmly say it was definitely heated. Claire had been by Robyn’s side as she fell madly in love with Keith but had never seen her best friend share a kiss like the one she had just shared with Taron with Keith and it wasn’t even a kiss of a couple in love, well love that had been admitted to each other. It was just two friends kissing but it was so much more when watched from the outside. They their hands rested perfectly on each other’s cheeks and they just knew how to position their heads so they didn’t bump noses and it had the perfect amount of everything a kiss needed and as Claire stood with her mouth open as she witnessed their kiss, their first proper kiss, she was stunned. It was near perfect. She hadn’t missed that at one point Taron took the lead with the kiss, seeing how much he wanted to kiss Robyn so much more than he was letting on and it made her a little sad to know that Robyn wanted it as much as he did and the two were just holding back so much.

However, now that Robyn had fulfilled her end of the deal it was her turn and she was stood frozen on the spot. Robyn was always a little braver than she was, especially over the last three years and although she had doubted that Robyn would follow through with the kiss, her best friend had gone and kissed Taron hard and without a doubt Claire knew she now had no choice but to kiss Nick, the man she had been crushing on for at least four years.

“Claire.” Asked Robyn looking to her friend, who hadn’t moved for a few seconds, motioning with her eyebrows for her to go over to Nick.

“Nick you want to help a girl out here?” Robyn was surprised to hear Taron speak and even more shocked when Nick walked past them, over to Claire and placing his two hands on her cheeks, kissed her, a lot more deeply then Robyn and Taron kissed and a few wolf whistles went up around them.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on and why everyone is kissing everyone else and why I am not getting kissed by anybody!”

Robyn felt Taron’s chest move with his laughter and closed her eyes as he threw his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against him. “You are in trouble Miss Quinn.” He whispered to her, his breathe hot against her cheek. “And have a lot of explaining to do.”

She gave his hands a squeeze and felt the deep breath he took, taking one of her own and turned to face him, not missing the flush on his face or how his eyes were now a swirling mix of brown and green.

“What it with all the kissing!” Shane asked again, clear frustration in his voice.

“Want to go outside?” Robyn asked him. “Before the next dance starts?”

“Please.”

Without a word to those around her, Robyn lifted Taron’s arms from around her shoulder and over her head, keeping a grip on his hand and started to lead him off the dance floor. As they walked, she could hear Shane complaining again and as she walked past Claire, she gave her a little push with her left hand, breaking the kiss between herself and Nick, winking at her. “Not that hard was it?” She said as she walked past them, still keeping a tight grip on Taron’s hand.

She guided him out the front door of the club house and to the left walking down the footpath a little and to a little corner she knew of where they could talk.

“So, Robyn what is with all the kissing?” Taron asked her as he leant against the brick wall behind him, his arms crossing over his chest. “Not that I am complaining, just to put that out there.” He added, hoping that his face had cooled down a little, though his cheeks still felt incredibly hot and even the chill in the late-night air wasn’t helping to cool his overheated body down. He could still feel Robyn pressed up right against his body and he had hugged Robyn so many times before, tight gripping hugs where she was properly squished against him but when their touching bodies were from the result of a kiss, it was a completely different feeling all together. “Sometimes a man needs a bit of warning before he is assaulted with kisses.” He gave her a little half smirk, keeping his arms folded against his chest, resisting the urge to touch his lips, instead rubbing them together and licking what he knew was her lipstick from them, that cosmetic taste in his mouth a little reminder that once again Robyn had kissed him and not just a little kiss, a proper full on, lip sucking kiss and it was glorious and he saw a few fireworks set off behind his closed eyes.

“You never warned me outside the lift.”

He grinned at her response. “Robyn, I kissed your neck. You fully planted one on my lips and in front of your friends and it was more than just a little kiss. Honestly, I thought you were going to slip me some tongue at one point.”

“Ugh eww Taron no!” Robyn turned away from him and squeezed her eyes shut biting her bottom lip before she turned back and prayed her face was calm and composed. “Just no. You are my friend.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “So chicken, care to explain what that was all about? I am guessing something to do with Claire, maybe a bet of some sorts? She looked mortified. What did you two agree too.”

“I am really sorry Taron, about the kiss.” Robyn stepped a little closer to him and leaned opposite him against the wall.

“I didn’t ask you if you were sorry. You don’t have to apologise to me over it. You did ask me first in a way.”

“I asked you if you trust me.”

“And I do.” He assured you. “And you know I do, with my life.” He waited for Robyn to start with an explanation but she was staying silent. “Come on Robyn. Spill or I am ringing Diean right now to tell him about our kiss. He has been bugging me about the New Year’s Eve kiss constantly so I know he will love this one!” Taron pulled his phone from his jeans pocket but Robyn quickly snatched it from his hands.  

“I did do it for Claire.” She started to explain quickly, still holding Taron’s phone, her eyes glancing down very quickly as his screen lit up as she accidently swiped his phone, a new picture of the two of them on his screen, one from New Year’s Eve they had taken on the beach before they went to her home. “I hadn’t actually planned just to land a kiss on you like that, I promise. She is so desperately in love with Nick and has been since he joined the choir four years ago and you know we had this match making plan and I know Nick has been fawning over Claire since I introduced the two of them after a gig we did. So, we were having our girl talk…”

“I am going to ban girl talk.” Interrupted Taron. “Bane of my life. Even Rosie and Mari have their girl talk now. No boys allowed!” He complained.

Ignoring him, Robyn continued. “Well during our girl talk, Claire told me that I wouldn’t kiss you and I replied to her with the oh so mature answer of well you won’t kiss Nick and I was like sure I would kiss you if she kissed Nick and she was like well if you kiss Taron I will kiss Nick and then she made the deal tougher by saying that it couldn’t be a kiss on his cheek, as in your cheek, it had to be on the lips and I was like well if I do this, knowing and hoping you wouldn’t mind, I mean we have kissed before, Claire would have to follow through and kiss Nick and like I said, I already know that Nick has a thing for Claire and Claire is like a love sick puppy when she sees Nick even if she won’t admit to it and then we agreed and shook on it using our special handshake which we cannot go back on so I had to go first and kiss you and then we kissed and I was like go on Claire and she stalled and looked at me as if she had seen a ghost and I mean I had just kissed you so she had to follow through with our deal and she just stood there with a blank face, and then you spoke to Nick and he just went and kissed her instead and hey how did you get Nick to do that so quick with just some words and he went straight in for a kiss but Claire totally broke our deal she needs to do the forfeit but I mean…”

Taron watched as Robyn started to talk fast and her words jumbled together as she moved away from the wall, still with his phone and placed back and forth in front of him her hands moving as she spoke and as she rambled on, Taron was grinning from ear to ear. Sure the kiss played complete havoc with his emotions and he was still light headed and buzzing from the feeling of kissing her but he did not regret it at all or how he kissed her back and as he stood away from the wall he automatically found himself biting his lip, still feeling Robyn’s against him and he chuckled as Robyn began to speak even faster. She always spoke fast, her words almost blurring together even more so when she was excited or as he found out the hard way, angry and she was doing it right now, almost without taking a breath. He stepped in front of her, stopping her mid-stride and without a second thought, he reached forward and put his hand over her mouth to stop her which she did but he pulled his hand away quickly as she licked him.

“Don’t lick people.” He grinned. “And like I said, you don’t have to apologise to me. You asked me if I trusted you and I said yes and I do and when you were at the bar with Claire, Nick and I were getting to know each other. He let it slip that he was very happy you asked him to come along as he has the biggest crush on Claire. I did a little match making of my own and told him he should tell her but he wasn’t really feeling brave enough too. After you kissed me and egged Claire on, I put two and two together and thankfully Nick took the hint and the first step and went to kiss her.”

“You little sneaky rocketman. Hatching plans of your own.”

“Except Nick and I did not have a handshake to seal the deal.”

“I am going to make Claire pay for not stepping up.”

Taron grinned. “I think she will give you whatever you want after that kiss she had with Nick.”

“Finally.” Smiled Robyn. “Those two has been making googly eyes at each other for years.” Robyn looked down to her hands as she accidently swiped his phone again and she saw their picture. “I am sorry for just kissing you like that Taron.”

“It’s ok. I think I can forgive you when you ramble on nervously like that and if we got Claire and Nick together, than mission accomplished.”

“Taron…”

“Honestly, it is ok.” He stepped closer to her and held his arms out for a hug, which she walked into. “Don’t over think it ok. I know what you are like. It was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss.” Repeated Robyn into his shoulder but it was so much more than just a kiss and as she started to re-live that wonderfully delicate and smooth kiss, his phone rang in her hands, ending the short hug between then. “It’s your mam.” She said to him, looking at the name on the screen.

He smiled and took the phone from her and answered it with a light cheery tone. “Hey mam!”

“Hello love! I just wanted to check in with you before your night became too Irish and you would forget to call your mother back.” Hearing Tina’s words, Robyn laughed. When Tina heard the laughter, she knew Taron was with his reason for his visit to Ireland. “Hello Robyn.”

“Hey Tina!” Robyn said loudly so she could hear him.

“Hi Robyn!”

She laughed as she heard Rosie and Mari too. “Hello girls.” Robyn looked to Taron. “I will leave you to it.”

“You don’t have too and you know the girls want to talk to you. Always want to talk to you.”

Robyn grinned. “And you know I adore them but your mother wants to talk to you.”

“And you want to talk to Claire.” He returned.

“Oh my God I do.”

“So, more girl talk.” He rolled his eyes. “Go, I will follow you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Sort out that forfeit too.”

“I will.”

Robyn turned on her heels and walked away from Taron, hearing him pick up the call as she headed back for the door, inhaling the cool fresh air was she walked. Her head was still very fuzzy and not only from the specular kiss but also from Taron’s reaction. He was so calm and acceptive of what she had done to him, literally done to him and he was his usual wonderful self and she was so confused by it all. She was expecting at least a tiny bit of backlash from what she had done but there was none. He was completely understanding and had even said he couldn’t complain about what she had done and as she pulled open the door of the GAA club she took a glance back to him. He was laughing and smiling and not for the first time her stomach dropped to her toes. Whatever doubts she had before about being in love with Taron had been well and truly squashed. She, Robyn Quinn, without a doubt was head over heels in love with the man that was Taron Egerton.

[a9saga]

when my maternal grandfather died six months ago i made a long rambling about how everything in my life since ninth grade just went full circle and i meant it. i ended up being okay, and i knew i would, but that was all very intensely crashing over me at once.

my grandmother died this morning. other side, my dad’s mother. it was okay, she was safe, she was being taken care of and she was with her children and her husband. i’d only heard she went into hospice yesterday, she couldn’t have been in there for more than a day.

if you know me well enough that i’ve ever talked to you about my family, you might remember i really love my sweet and beautiful little irish grandmother. i do. or even if you follow my blog, she’s made several mentions in my own posts over the years. she’s my biggest role model. i could go on for days. simply put, every trait of mine that i most like about myself is something i’ve had in common with her. and she loved me for the same things i loved in her, i think.

that last sentence is the only reflection i’ve realized upon finally losing her. i only realized that one when my dad pointed it out last night. i was mumbling on my whole spiel about how much i love my grandmother i knew i would be losing within the next day, you know the one i largely skipped in this post because i would have gone on for too long. my dad said that i also brought her so much joy, that she also thought that i was sweet, and beautiful, and it lit her up to see me, etc etc etc.

i’d not thought of that as much. the last many times i saw her, her memory was so far gone she didn’t know who i was or who my mother was. she would generally recognize my dad and she would ask him if he was married and if he had kids. that’d happen every few minutes whenever we’d see her, that she would be going over the list of basic questions. she wanted to enjoy everyone’s presence, and to some extent she did, but it was so hard for her to genuinely partake.

connie was in there somewhere but she was a shell of herself. over the past year, especially in the past four months, it was apparent she was getting exponentially closer to the end.

i always knew she’d be the hardest to lose. i’ve been afraid of it forever. and i think she will be. i have two grandparents left but i just. i just know this one. and it feels only reinforced by my feeling that her death doesn’t change anything.

i have realized nothing new from this. there’s no circle encompassing this moment in my life. at this time i think more constantly what i have always thought of her. i am just devastated to be without her. in place of piecing together what she meant to me, since i was already well aware of that all my life, i am thinking more of how she was years ago. i am not realizing. i am remembering. what i remember is what i’ve thought much less about for a while, because i’ve only been so worried about her now for at least 4 years. at least. and that’s only been my major concerns.

but if there was someone who deserved this soon, it was her. in some respects, for a while i’d felt like i lost her already, such as the fact that she didn’t constantly remember and understand anyone but her husband. she was so weak recently. she just needed to rest.

if you were wondering, she would have turned 91 if she made it to the end of this month. i will be okay, again. i keep tearing up every few minutes thinking about her. it doesn’t last long but it recurs a lot. i don’t feel the disbelief i did with my grandfather’s death. i simply feel awful.

with my grandfather, even in recent months there have been tears, bad dreams, and recently at work an old man came in who looked and moved and talked very much like my grandfather had since his first battle with his brain tumor. those make me sad but much of the time now i just remember that he’s actually gone, not out of sight, out of mind. i’ve made my peace, it’s just more like i largely don’t buy it. he’s not dead, i just haven’t seen him in a while. that’s how it feels and i just remind myself that it’s not true.

well i don’t know that i will think of connie like that in six months. because frank, her husband of 68 years, is going to be alone and no one can bear the thought of how scary that is. he doesn’t know life like this. so if you’re the praying type, please utter his name for me. he’s a very strong man, but he’s very old.

i wanted to say one last thing. remember when i said seventeen was once again comforting me when my grandfather died? well i’ve been listening to cnblue today. i don’t know why. i will not sit here and tell you my cnblue story (although one day i mean to bc oh boy) but i was a fan of them years before i got into kpop, when i was 13. it was the summer before eighth grade. i actually know like, none of their work that they put out after i was 13. i was mostly into their japanese stuff, their korean singles back then were so much more poppy and colorful and i liked them but not as much. i still kind of feel that way. you know what song of theirs i was kinda iffy about liking as much as i did? love girl. oh my god. for the record they dropped that song and album on my 12th birthday, which inherently cursed them (nothing good ever happened while i was 12). i was too not-like-other-girls to deal with the one video of theirs that went too far in making it clear that the boys in this band were cute (ugh). but now i’m listening to that song a lot in particular because it makes me feel very light and pink and warm and homey and to put it simply it fills me with a comfort that i think i need after losing my feminine hero. that doesn’t make any sense but i feel it. i’ve not actually played anything since i started typing this so i’m gonna go back to that now.

ps: any friends or mutuals, if we talk lots or little or we haven’t in a while, are welcome to send me literally whatever. if it’s related to this, unrelated, or whatever, if you are thinking of reaching out to say something i am going to appreciate anything. you can send kind words or a meme or cute animals or a song rec. i will say that i’m going to be quiet for the time being so i may not reply back very quickly. i’m not ignoring you i’m just taking space. i may be like this for a little bit. but if you actually read all of this, thank you. thank you so much.

[writingpuddle]

The foxes and Andrew reacting to Neil with a British accent?

Hey anon im p sure you sent me this like a million years agobut I found it again when going thru my asks yesterday so here goes myattempt at a bulletpoint fic:

Neil grew up in the states, sohis default accent is American, but he is ridiculouslygood at imitating. Like give him a ten second audio clip and he canextrapolate basically an entire dialect from it

The Foxes discover this aroundHalloween when watching a spooky movie and Neil goes into a perfect deadpanmockery of the Dracula character’s terrible Transylvanian accent

It becomes a thing

The Foxes will give him an accentand just set him loose

Neil is kind of surprised bytheir enthusiasm but also secretly very pleased to have found a way to amusehis Foxes

He likes making them happy so henever denies them

Except Kevin, but that is mostlybecause the team gets more amusement from watching Kevin get frustrated and trynot to show how annoyed he is over Neil being such a petty little asshole

Also they discover that if Neilputs on an Irish accent when Kevin isn’t paying attention he will absolutelyJUMP

Give him an order in an Irishaccent and he just instantly starts to follow through before he wakes up,blinking in disorientation as he realizes what he was doing

It’s funny at first, then theyrealize it’s because he associates the accent with his mother, and then itskind of sad, and then Kevin starts telling more stories about his mum and someof the few good memories he has of her, and then it gets funny again because Foxesare Foxes and they do love a good roast

Kevin complains outwardly but itsactually kind of cathartic to talk about his mother

He tells Andrew this inconfidence and Andrew just glares at him like no shit dude, you need fuckingtherapy

Anyways

That summer is going to be thesummer of the girls graduation

So they’re all determined to dosomething big to celebrate

And they get it in their heads todo a Eurotrip

Neil isn’t really payingattention at first because he’s more concerned about whether Andrew will bewilling to do a transatlantic flight

(Andrew is obviously going tocome. Flights suck, but there is no way he can cope with his whole family beingthat far away. He does not feel the need to explain this. It should beobvious.)

That’s when the Foxes pause, alldevious.

They’ve been plotting

“So, Neil,” Allison says. “At what point are you going to introduce usto your British uncle?”

Neil does not see where this isgoing

In fact he is largely baffled bythe suggestion.

“You realize my uncle is agangster, right? Like, literally a crime boss. Possibly the most dangerousperson in Britain.”

“Mm-hmmmmm.”

Neil is ???

“But he saved you Neil,” Nicky says emphatically. “We need to thank him.”

“Uh, kind of by accident, butyeah, technically.”

“You should call him. Just toask. You know, at least give the guy some warning that you’ll be in the area.”

Neil is still kinda confused butokay, fine.

Now here’s the thing

The Foxes have heard any numberof accents from Neil by this point

Including a magnificent Godfatherimitation

And probably half a dozendifferent British ones

But those were always for the laughs

He always picked a terribleaccent or would mock the living hell out of a posh one

Neil isn’t used to being thefunny one so he’s trying his best okay

And it’s fun and all but Neil can’tbe seductive to save his life

Even if you made him speak theFrench, the language of love itself,he’d just sound like he’s talking about the next game because he has zeroflirtability

Face it his and Andrew’sflirting sounds kind of like death threats to outsiders

They deserve each other

SO the Foxes convince Neil tocall up his uncle and they huddle around the phone

Only to be utterly disappointed

Neil talks with Stuart for all ofa minute and a half, just normal voice

He hangs up and tells them thatStuart will meet them in London in May and that they’re going to get him inshit with the FBI for this

The Foxes retreat, mutteringmutinously

Andrew is well aware of what’sgoing on, but it’s halfway amusing so he doesn’t say anything

As the months pass the Foxesbecome increasingly desperate in their attempts to make Neil say something sexy

They make him quote movies, TVshows, read out flirty text messages

One memorable time they even gethim to read out a page from Fifty Shades of Grey in a stuck-up British accent

They almost die laughing

It’s like a fucking superpower

Neil can say absolutely anythingand make it come across totally non-sexual

The Foxes have pretty much givenup by the time the summer trip comes around

Neil spends the plane ridepretending not to fuss over Andrew so by the time he arrives he’s totallyexhausted

And here is what he didn’texpect:

He is totally used to listeningto the local accents and then blending in naturally

It’s very disorienting beingamong the Foxes and their various Americanism, but hearing British accents allaround him

And his instincts are snarled upin knots

Plus he’s fucking tired

So he keeps slipping

First it happens when they passthrough customs, just a little lilt to his voice to put the officer at ease

But then it keeps happening

Stuart sends a couple cars topick them up and take them to this massive place he owns right in centralLondon

Being a crimeboss comes withcertain perks okay

Neil slips up again when he’stalking to the driver, his accent washing back and forth

Everyone else isn’t really payingattention because as excited as they are about Neil’s accent they’re in London and they’re all exhausted and fora lot of them it’s the first time they’ve been outside of the States, ever

Andrew notices

But he doesn’t say anything

They get to the apartment andfind a note there from Stuart saying he’ll pick them up tomorrow for a tour

Everyone splits off into theirrooms to sleep

Neil falls into bed exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come

And Andrew knows this but is tooexhausted himself from the stress of flying to deal with it right away

So he just wraps an arm aroundNeil’s stomach and holds him there as he drifts off

And it’s not enough for Neil toreally relax but it’s enough to make him feel grounded

The next morning Stuart shows upand everyone blinks at him bleary eyed and suspicious

But he’s charming and most ofthem find it kinda disarming

Which is how the Foxes end up takingwhat is probably the most expensive tour they’ve ever had (Allison excepted),lead entirely by a crime boss

Neil is lagging behind a bit buteveryone is so caught up in it that they don’t really notice

Except Andrew

That boy is always attuned to Neil

So he drops back with him andthey have a brief intense staring contest which ends in Neil looking away

They’re standing in Trafalgarsquare watching some street performers so no one is listening

Neil is obviously chewing onsomething and Andrew waits him out

He would wait forever

Finally, Neil just says, “I’vebeen here before.”

Which isn’t much but Andrew’smemory has never failed him before

I couldn’t live there again. I couldn’t retrace my steps to any ofthose places

Andrew knows what its like to feelsick at things that other people would love

So he nods and stands next toNeil the whole day

Not quite touching but closeenough that they can feel each others gravity

At the end of the day Stuart andNeil have a very cordial goodbye and then Stuart leaves them back at theapartment

Everyone is gushing about how charismatiche is and Neil doesn’t bother to correct them

His uncle has always been a bitof a snake-charmer but at least he knows he’ll never hurt his Foxes

They’ve still got a few days inLondon and Stuart’s secured them tickets to an underground dungeon tour thingthat usually has months worth of waiting list

Neil’s a little leery of goinginto a dark underground space, but with his Foxes there he’s sure he’ll beFine™

The team breaks out drinks aftersupper but Neil doesn’t have the energy

(Honestly according to thistimeline they’ve been in London for twenty-four hours they should be jet-laggedto hell and back, but w/e)

So he retires to their room andAndrew follows him like he always will

He sits next to Neil on the bedand waits

God there’s so much fuckingpointed silence between these two dear lord guys learn to communicate

Eventually Neil sighs. “I thoughtit would be okay. With all of them here.”

Andrew mulls that over

He doesn’t know how to admit thatit bothers him too. Seeing Neil reverting back to old habits, trying to blendin like its second nature

But he knows Neil is here to stayso he just slips a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and tugs him in untiltheir foreheads touch, breathing in the same air

Gradually the tension eases outof Neil

“We can go home,” Andrew says

“No,” Neil says. “I want to stay.I want to learn how to…do all of this, as Neil.”

Andrew squeezes the back of hisneck one more time. “Okay.”

It’s a silent promise, one he’sbeen keeping for over a year now: that any time Neil drifts too far, Andrewwill keep him anchored.

Neil knows it and he can’t helpbut smile a little, watching Andrew’s hazel eyes disappear into the shadowbetween their faces.

“Yes or no?” he asks

Andrew draws back a little

“You’ve been dissociating allday.”

“I’m here now.”

Andrew scowls and let’s go ofhim, standing up to go dig out his pajamas from his luggage

Neil flops down on the bed andadmires the view while Andrew changes

(That’s a nice thing. Andrewbeing comfortable enough to change in front of him. Sure, he’s always partiallychanged out in the locker room, but in private it’s different. It’s more. And Andrew is willing to give thatto Neil.)

(It’s very nice.)

“Staring,” Andrew grunts

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

Neil sits up again and tugs onthe front of Andrew’s shirt until he gives in and steps up close, betweenNeil’s legs

His hands go to Neil’s sideswithout conscious decision

“Nicky wants the genuine Europeexperience,” Neil murmurs, toying with Andrew’s hem. He still hasn’t been givenpermission to touch, so he doesn’t. “We’re going to be staying in hostels.Might be the last time we have a room to ourselves.”

Andrew bites down on a thousandimpulses, reflexes to shut Neil down, cuthim out

Instead he just kisses Neil, goodand slow, a reassurance that they’re there,they’re real, and that this isn’t going away

“Andrew—”

“Yes,” he says, and pushes Neilback onto the bed.

You know what happens next

They love each other deeply andprofoundly and all that but they also like each other’s butts ya know

So afterwards they get cleaned upand curl back up in bed to sleep

Andrew climbs over Neil andnearly knees him in the balls and Neil’s laughing a little and Andrew scowls inannoyance as Neil scoots closer

And with the most obnoxious chav accent that’s ever been heard says, “Any chance a bloke could get a bit of a snog before bed?”

It is quite possibly the worstthing Neil has ever said and Andrew does not hesitate in slapping a pillow overhis face to try and smother him

Neil is laughing his ass off andit devolves into some pretty stupid wrestling before Andrew gets Neil pinneddown, straddling his hips

“Bloody wanker,” Neil says, unable to contain his grin

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew says,and kisses him so that he does.

[dpimagines]

History; Nathan Summers

warnings/info: smut (masturbation, then oral, both receiving), accidental (and then purposeful) invasion of privacy, purity kink, age gap, and that’s about all I’ve got. Can be read as virginity loss or just inexperienced!reader. let me know if there’s anything else I need to add. Semi-inspired by this fic.

Nathan’s friendship with you started out… Innocent.

It first began when he was still struggling with night terrors about what happened to his wife and daughter, sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of Irish coffee. You entered the kitchen, glanced at him, and proceeded to make a bag of popcorn, taking a can of soda from the fridge.

“Isn’t it a little late for sugar?” he instinctively asked, cringing afterwards. He didn’t even know your name, or how old you were. You could be an adult, for fuck’s sake.

“Isn’t it a little early for stealing Wolverine’s alcohol?” You’d retorted with a somehow knowing smile, sitting at the opposite side of the island, opening your laptop.

“What’re you working on?” he asked, curious for something to distract him from the torturous regretful thoughts that filled his mind.

“College apps. Trying to get into someplace close, so I can keep living here,” you explained with a small smile. He didn’t bother you after that, knowing how important what you were working on was.

The next night, you showed up without your computer, and got two bowls down for your popcorn.

Nathan enjoys your company still, even if you’re a little more busy with college now.

“I like your top,” you tell a girl as you enter the mansion’s courtyard to meet him for lunch. He wonders why you bother to waste so much of your allotted lunch time getting to him and back, instead of having a longer break with other friends, but he doesn’t dare speak his question out loud for fear of making you realize your time is better spent elsewhere.

“Thanks, I got it at Old Navy,” the girl replies. “I think it might still be on sale.”

Olde Navy… Nathan notes mentally. Your birthday’s coming up, and he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you come bounding up after a long day of school in that.

“Nate! Hey!” you greet him like you’re surprised, every time, because you’re just that happy to see him. “How much do I owe you?” you ask him of the pizza, but he just rolls his eyes.

You put your backpack down on the bench, sitting down with him, the pizza box between the two of you.

“How’s your day been?” You ask him, taking a slice of pizza.

“Alright. Pretty uneventful, though. I miss summer break, you being around gave me something to do.”

You choke on your pizza, coughing violently, and he looks at you quizzically.

“God, I really should’ve listened when they told us in Kindergarten to chew, how many times was it? I don’t even remember,” you laugh it off, still a little red.

Nathan takes a bite of his own pizza, shaking his head at your antics.

“Anyways, Wade’s been pestering me to tell him how this planet fucks itself over so he can build a doomsday bunker.”

“To be fair, it’s-”

“The corporations. I know. Always the corporations with you and your generation,” Nate teases, despite being from a much-later generation. “You’re right, but if I tell him that, he’ll gun down all the CEOs and it’ll majorly affect the timeline. Oh.” There’s a little smear of tomato sauce, and he swipes it off of your cheek with his thumb and without thinking.

Nathan realizes that he either offers it to you, like a weirdo, or licks it off his thumb, like a weirdo. He goes for the latter, and notices your face is a bit flushed.

“Do you think you could be allergic to something in the sauce?” Nate wonders. “You’ve been kinda red since we started eating, and your throat being a little tight would explain how you got choked up.”

“Oh, uh, maybe,” you reply with a meek smile. “But if it’s not life-threatening, I’ll continue to devour this pizza forever. Or, at least, for the next fifty years.”

“Ha. Ha,” Nate replies. Once you finish your slice, you get your school stuff together.

“Hey, you wouldn’t mind taking some books to my room for me, would you? I mean, I can carry them, but since you’re here and you’re the best…?”

“No need to butter me up, Y/N, you know I-“ ...would do anything for you. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much!” You put the books where you were sitting before. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Nathan responds, and you give him a half-hug before heading off. He watches you leave, lost in thought as he munches on a second slice of pizza.

“Cable is a pervert, Cable is a pervert!” Wade sing-songs, and Nate bops him over the head with a book. “Ow! You know I’m right, Y/N is way younger than you.”

“It’s not like that! I just-” Well, now that Nathan really thinks about it, he is a pervert. He likes you for your kind, wholesome nature and has a genuine crush on you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve never made your way into the darker parts of his mind. He smirks a little bit thinking about it, before shame takes over. You’re so pure and sweet, even if you’re an adult, it’s… Well, it’s perverted!

“Oh my god. Do you think her love will turn you into a real boy, One-Eyed Very-Horny Flying Purple People-Eater?!” Wade’s wacky exclamations draw the attention of bystanders, and Nathan whacks him again with the book. “Damn! You’re lethal with just about anything, huh? I should warn Y/N about your sword next time I see her.”

“Shut up,” Nathan grumbles, done with entertaining the talkative merc who brought him here in the first place.

“Well, don’t be too embarrassed. She clearly likes you, too.”

“Clearly?” Nathan skeptically questions, knowing he’s probably taking some form of bait.

“Yup! See you around, lover-boy!” Wade replies, skipping off without an explanation. Nathan finishes his second pizza slice, wiping his hands on his pants before putting your books in his messenger bag, carrying the leftover pizza inside and putting it in the fridge before heading up to your room to drop off the books.

When Nate puts the books down on your desk, he spots your computer and realizes that this is the perfect time to look up that shirt you liked earlier. He turns on the computer, opening Chrome.

Olde, he types, but as soon as he presses the e and before he presses the spacebar, he notices an Autofill option:

Older Man Younger Woman Porn Videos | Pornhub.com

Nathan feels the blood rush to his face, not to mention elsewhere. This is your personal computer, no one else has regular enough access to be comfortable looking up porn.

Despite knowing how wrong it is, Nathan delves into your full internet history, looking at the specific videos you’ve watched that you haven’t cleared from your history and, for lack of a better word, studying them.

Once Nate’s finished watching the videos, he first realizes he’s hard as a fucking rock. He caresses his sizable length through his jeans before unzipping his pants and pulling it from his boxers.He spits on his hand before stroking his cock, slow and loose, before eventually tightening his grip and speeding up, imagining what it’d be like to lose himself in your soaking wet-

Nathan covers his mouth to muffle the long, loud groan that erupts from his lips as he continues to rub himself through the orgasm, cum spurting out. He steals a couple tissues from the box on your nightstand to clean himself up, hoping the small spot on his shirt isn’t noticeable.

The next thing he realizes is that you’ve probably jerked off while sitting in the chair he’s in right now, curling your fingers inside yourself, maybe propping a foot against your desk for a better angle, panting like you do in training.

And the last realization that Nate has is that he won’t be able to stop thinking about this until he addresses it with you.

Fortunately for him, it’s only a couple hours until you’re back. He goes to his own room, looking over his weapons and brainstorming modifications to distract him from the short but painful wait.

Luckily for him, you stop by his room when you get back, knocking on the door frame. He turns to look at you, but then he sees that it’s just Wade and rolls his eyes, turning around to work on the gun he’d selected.

“Aw, come on, we’re friends, too!” Wade protests. “Besides, your little girlfriend’s busy trying to figure out who was on her computer while she was at school, apparently they left behind their earbuds. You wouldn’t know anything about that, though, would you?”

“Fuck,” Nathan mutters, temporarily abandoning his work to go talk to you.

When you see him in the doorway, your expression immediately brightens. You’re sitting in the chair he sat when he jerked off earlier, of course, because it’s your chair.

“Oh, right! Nate!” You realize. “Whew, that makes me feel a lot better, I thought for sure someone was snooping in my room. Here’s your earbuds.”

“Right,” Nathan responds, feeling immensely guilty because he was, in fact, snooping, even if it was just on your computer. He enters the room as opposed to standing outside, shutting the door behind him.

“Nate?” you wonder.

“Oh, um…” Nathan feels like an idiot, unsure of how to explain what happened. “I was thinking about how your birthday is soon, and since I was already in here, I decided to just look up that shirt you liked earlier on the Olde Navy website, but when I typed Olde…”

You furrow your brows, confused, before it hits you.

“Uh- Um- I- Hm- Well- I-I’m sorry,” you go for the apology. For what? For him being your theoretical type? For having a crush on him? For him having a crush on you? For him seeing that you watch porn? For finding out that he saw the porn you like? Any of those? None of them? You’re unsure, so is he.

“Nothing to be sorry for, darlin’,” he reassures you. “I’m the one who should be sorry. But I’m not.”

“You’re not?” You ask, looking to him with an adorable sort of bewilderment in your eyes.

“No,” Nathan repeats, fixing you with a stare you’ve never seen him give anyone, one that makes your insides burn.

“Why?” you wonder, hoping you understand, hoping that he’ll do to you what you want him to, despite, well, everything. He locks the door, and you suck in a shallow breath, standing from your chair and pushing it in. You eye him nervously, not sure how this is going to go. He steps closer to you, cradling your face once he can reach it and forcing you to look at him.

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“Y-yeah, for a while now,” you admit, blushing a little.

Nathan gives a crooked smile before capturing your lips with his own, lowering you onto your bed as the two of you continue to kiss. The two of you part, and he sucks on your neck rather roughly, teeth scraping and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You writhe underneath him, forcing your lips shut to keep from whimpering at the sensations.

He stops, though, propping himself up on his arms and looking at you, concerned.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, stroking your face.

“Mhm,” you hum, not sure why he stopped. “Why?”

“You’re fidgeting a lot, not saying anything. Just worried about you.” Nathan’s kind eyes always seem to peer into you, and you find yourself blushing.

“Oh, sorry, I was, uh, trying to be quiet,” you softly explain, feeling guilty for concerning him.

“That’s cute, kid. Don’t be shy, though, I wanna hear those pretty little sounds, or those pretty loud ones, whatever comes out. I wanna know how to make it happen and hear it again, and again, and again.” His hand slowly drags up your body before resting on your neck as he speaks, and your breath stills.

You feel even more embarrassed when you recognize that Nate fulfills basically all of your fantasies and you don’t even know what any of his are.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you find yourself asking, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing just fine being yourself, baby, trust me,” he honestly replies, going back to kissing your neck, this time massaging one of your breasts with his metal hand. Your hips buck up a little, legs parting as you let out a few soft moans. “Good girl,” he purrs.

“Th-thank you,” you reply, heart pounding in your ears.

Nathan smiles, straddling you as opposed to just being on top, to help you take off your over-sized flannel, as well as to take off his own shirt. You’d both seen each other shirtless due to training, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a sight either of you enjoyed.

“So this is what you wear when you’re not in that cute little sports bra,” Nathan notes, moistening his lips before placing a kiss on your breast, continuing to knead the other with his metal hand.

“Ah, yeah- Yeah,” you pant, legs spreading wider and knees pulling back, so that his bulge moves against your heat with every forward motion. “Oh f- Oh, Nathan.”

“Say it again,” he tells you, sinking his teeth into your breast. “Fuck, say my name, baby.”

“Nathan! Oh god, I-“ you gasp, rocking against his length through the layers of clothes that you’re both still wearing, sadly. “I need- I want-“

“What do you want, little girl? Anything, anything you want,” Nate responds, enjoying the friction just as much as you are. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you shudder.

“C-can I please, um… Suckyourdickplease?” You request, and he pulls away from your neck, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, and he grins before rolling off of you, allowing you to be on top of him before he pulls you in for a kiss.

Once the kiss is done, you look to him nervously for guidance as you unbutton and unzip his pants.

“Here, back up, I’ll pull it out for you,” he offers. You obey, sitting on your knees between his legs.

He’s big, not ridiculously long but nothing to laugh at, either, and girthy. You’re a little worried about how he’s going to fit in your mouth at all.

“It’s okay if you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You shake your head before laying on your stomach so that you’re more level with him, propping your arms around his hips and on the bed as you continue to observe his cock with slightly-widened eyes. You finally just go for it and put your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around and around. 

“Fuck, that’s good. Just a little more, baby.”

You attempt to force more of him into your mouth, but gag, so you pull back, realizing you can fit more if you ease into it, and you slowly train yourself until you can get almost all of it in, bobbing your head up and down and using your tongue to provide extra stimulation.

“That’s a lot, sweethea- Hea-” he loses his breath, stroking your face with his metal hand and tangling the digits on his flesh one in your hair, but not applying any pressure, more than content to let you have this your way.

“Sh-shit, babygirl,” Nathan stammers. “Slow down, or I’ll- Fuck…” He lets out a low moan, and you continue to suck him off as he orgasms, doing your best to ignore the taste and instead letting his seed serve as extra lubrication.

“Sorry I didn’t swallow,” you apologize after you remove your lips from his manhood with the most obscene pop sound.

“You’re lucky that this is our first time together, or I’d have you over my knee for making me cum like that,” he tells you, but there’s no anger in his tone, of course. He’s just enjoying taunting you.

You pout at his words and he chuckles, tugging you upwards and kissing you again.

“Jesus, fuck, kid, how did you stand that? I’m so sorry, it’s just been a while, I didn’t think about how it’d taste.”

“Uh, well, I didn’t really have anything to compare it to, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it to taste like candy...” you admit. He snickers, grabbing your hips and putting you upright.

“I thought- I thought it took a little bit, for… You know.”

“Oh, it’ll probably take a while at this point. That doesn’t mean I can’t return the favor. Sit on my face, doll.”

“I- I might not be good at that, I’ve never…”

“Well, in that case...” Nate flips you over so that you’re back under him, and you inhale sharply.

You know he’s strong, but it shocks you every time he uses that strength on you. He yanks down your leggings, or attempts to, but he just rips a huge strip off with his metal hand, exposing you. Your face heats up, looking at him looking at your underwear.

“Well,” Nathan chuckles, an almost predatory grin on his face that makes your heart race. You never thought you would get to see this side of him before, but you’re so, so glad you have the privilege. “Aren’t you prepared?”

“I just like matching, that’s all. Makes me feel like I’ve got my life together,” you bashfully explain, and he pulls your leggings off more gently this time. He pauses after, though, looking at you underneath him, seeming even more vulnerable than how he usually sees you, and that’s saying something. 

“I hope you know that I really do like you, Y/N,” he tells you, stroking the soft inner part of each of your thighs. You’re not sure which hand feels better. “I wanted you like this way long before I saw your internet history.”

“Really?” You’re stunned but not terribly shocked, considering you had feelings for him as well, and the kinds of feelings you had don’t come from nowhere. Sexually tense moments during training, late night talks about your pasts, lots of shared meals he’d always refuse to let you pay for… It was only briefly a simple friendship.

“Really,” he responds. “Damn, why’d you have to milk me for all I’m worth? I- Jesus Christ, I wanna fuck you so fucking bad.” You can see it in his eyes that it’s the truth, his teeth gritted together in frustration.

“If it’s that bad, invest in some Viagra, you perverted old man,” you tease, having gained a small bit of confidence that your relationship was still the same after his confession that his feelings for you were consistent.

“Maybe I will, you dirty little brat,” he retorts. “Can I…?” He hooks a finger into your underwear, and you gasp softly at the feeling of his cold, metal finger against your hip. You nod, and he drags your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. “Wow.”

“Is- Is it-?”

“Good wow,” Nathan clarifies, rubbing your vulva before sliding a finger inside of you and curling, steadily increasing the pace.

“N-Nathan, oh- Oh my god, don’t stop,“ you pant, and he slides another finger in easily, gathering moisture before stroking your clit in the most perfect pattern. “Mm, please, gonna- Gonna-“

He moves his hand away, and you loudly whine, questioning why. Your legs tremble, especially when he laughs at you.

“That’s why. You just make it so fun, with those begging eyes of yours. I told you I was going to return the favor, you should’ve known,” he teases you.

“Please make me cum?” You request, feeling so small in the best way, and he smiles at you. You think he’s never smiled this much before, and you hope he doesn’t stop being happy with you once this is over.

“Anything for you,” Nathan reminds you, pulling your legs up over his shoulders and going down on you, making you squirm. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he groans, lapping up everything you have to offer.

You try to clutch the sheets, but he keeps switching between absolutely devastating your clit to fucking you with his tongue and all you want is for him to focus on that bundle of nerve endings, to allow you release.

Before you know it, your fingers are tangled in that always perfectly-styled gray hair of his, and you’re leading him straight to Heaven, moaning and rocking your hips against him before you jump over the edge, sobbing in relief while your eyes roll back. You let him go, and he continues to lick at your most sensitive place before eventually stopping.

“You-“ he starts, taking a trembling breath.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something. Are you okay?” You ask.

“...Are perfect,” he finishes his statement, taking in your nearly naked body with still-hungry eyes. “Please say we can make this official.”

You nod, and he kisses you deeply before rolling off of you, laying on his side in just his pants.

“What took us so long?” He wonders.

“All the reasons I had of seem pretty stupid now,” you admit, sliding under the covers instead of laying on top of them.

“All the reasons?” Nathan asks.

“Well, I figured you would think I was too immature or otherwise deny me on principle, and then I also didn’t want you to feel pressured to move on, and I just kind of wrote off all the signs of chemistry as accidents, coincidences, or really good friendship,” you explain. “I’m sure you had reasons, too.”

“Mostly the age thing, but I’ll admit it eventually became a turn-on… Mostly it’s just that you’re so wholesome and pure, I didn’t feel like I deserved you.”

“Pure? I just gave you a blowy!” you protest, and he chuckles, pulling you closer.

“You didn’t swear once during that whole encounter, and when I was giving you head you actually apologized for helping me. It’s not a diss, babygirl. I like your whimpers and your begging and how you blush, like right now.”

You bury your face in his chest with a quiet whine.

“Okay, point proven,” you concede, and he strokes your back carefully, as if you’ll break if he’s too rough.

“I know you can handle yourself, in the logical part of my brain,” he tells you quietly. “But- But you’re so delicate to the rest of me, I can barely even think sometimes. I’m glad you’re mine now, that you think I deserve you even if I’m not sure.”

You respond wordlessly, smiling and lifting the covers so that he can cozy up with you under them.

[freddiesaysalright]

Dancing With Ben Week 3

A Ben Hardy x Reader Fic Disney Night - Jazz

Summary: Reader is one of the pro dancers on Dancing With the Stars. It’s her second season on the show, and this time, her partner is none other than Ben Hardy. Will they win the Mirror Ball? Maybe they’ll win something even more meaningful!

Word Count: 3K

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @twigleektribute23, @ionlyhavepicturesofflowers, @asquiresofftime, @caborhapch, @iwasnothingbutacityboy, @a-kind-of-magik, @anxious-diabetic, @royalblueviper, @toms-irish-girl If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Week 1  Week 2

Week 3 here we go!!!

Disney night was a favorite of yours. It reminded you of childhood and the night was always joyful. Also, you got to take a break from rehearsal one day and go to DisneyLand. You were really looking forward to spending the day at the park with Ben, even if the cameras were following you around for most of the day. 

“Are you ready to have a fun Disney day?” you asked eagerly as you entered the park.

“I am,” he chuckled, looking at you.

You felt like a little kid again. You donned Minnie Mouse ears and everything for the day. You hardly noticed the way Ben gazed at you, like you were positively the sweetest thing he had ever seen. You took his hand and led him over to Cinderella’s castle, where you would shoot some things for the video package.

You stood with him in front of the castle, and faced him. “So, what was your favorite Disney movie as a kid?”

“I always loved The Jungle Book and 101 Dalmations,” he said. “I was into the animals.”

“No princesses, huh?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“You do know you look like a Disney prince, right?”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “I guess so.”

“It’s not a guess, Hardy, I’m right,” you insisted with a smirk. 

“Which prince am I going to be this week, then?” he asked.

“Actually, we’re doing something different,” you told him. “You and I are doing a jazz routine to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from Mary Poppins.” 

“I can’t believe you said that without messing up,” he said, impressed. “Do it again.”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” you said.

“One more time.”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“Oh, you’re good.”

You giggled. “Thank you.”

“So, what do I need to know about jazz?” he asked.

“It is very fun and very Disney,” you said. “One step you’ll have to know is the Charleston.”

“Show me, coach,” he said.

You slowly walked him through the basic Charleston step. The camera guys got a shot of you doing it together for the package. Ben already had it down, blowing you away with how easy most of this came to him. Then, you headed out to enjoy the park.

“Do you like roller coasters?” you asked.

“I love them,” he said. “You?”

“I love them!” you agreed. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun today.”

You took his hand again and led him to the first ride. The line wasn’t terribly long since it was the middle of the week, but it was still Disney, so tourists were crowding the park. Ben held your hand throughout the ride. Even through the first drop, when your hands were in the air, they were intertwined. You looked quickly at each other before it went down, your stomach turned, and you screamed together. When you clamored off the ride at the end, your legs wobbled, but Ben held you up.

You continued through the park this way - hand in hand. You were heading to get some food, when a tiny hand tapped your knee. You looked down and saw a weepy little girl, looking desperately up at you. She was wearing a Cinderella dress, but her tiara was askew in her hair.

“Excuse me,” she sobbed. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah, honey, what’s wrong?” you asked, kneeling down to her level. 

“I’m lost,” she said with a sniffle. “I can’t find my mommy.”

“Where did you last see her?” Ben asked. 

“By the castle,” she answered.

You were in Toontown, so it wasn’t terribly far. It was still a long way for a girl her age to go alone. 

“Alright, we can walk you back over there and see if we can find her,” you said.

“O-okay,” she stammered with a nod.

“What’s your name, lovie?” Ben questioned gently.

“Laci,” she said.

“I’m Ben, and this is Y/N,” he told her. “It’s nice to meet you, Laci.”

The corners of her mouth  twitched upward as he smiled at her. 

“Can you hold our hands?” you suggested. 

“Hold on, I’ve got a better idea,” Ben said. “How’d you like to sit way up high on my shoulders, Laci? That way you can see your mum from wherever she is.”

Laci nodded enthusiastically. Together, you hoisted her up until she was settled on his shoulders, legs dangling on either side of his head. He held her ankles. At last, she laughed.

“Lean forward, lovie,” he said. “Don’t want you to slip off.”

“Okay!” she agreed brightly.

“That was a quick turnaround,” you said to Ben under your breath. 

“Kids love to be tall,” he replied simply. 

“Mr. Ben, why do you talk funny?” Laci asked from her seat atop him.

You grabbed his arm and snickered. “Mr. Ben!”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m from another country. England.”

“Oh!” she said. “Like Harry Potter!”

“Yes, like Harry Potter,” he said, smiling. 

“Do you know him?” she wondered.

“Not well,” he answered. “We’ve met, but, as you know, he’s a rather busy person.”

They carried on back and forth and you looked on with admiration. A pang of irritation went through you as you overheard the camera guy and producer exchange a few words.

“Are you getting this?” the producer asked.

“Yeah, they’re gonna love it,” said the camera man.

You made your way back to the castle and Ben instructed Laci to be on the lookout for her mother. You kept your eyes peeled as well for a woman who might be distressed. Laci wiggled on Ben and gave an excited cry. He gripped her legs tighter to keep her upright.

“There she is!” she said. “By the statue!”

You squinted and saw a pretty blonde woman up ahead. She looked frantic and was calling out. You jogged ahead, so you could lead her back to her daughter. 

“Hi!” you called. “Are you Laci’s mom?”

“Yes!” she sighed. “Is she with you?”

“Yeah,” you assured her. “And she’s fine, don’t worry.”

At that moment, Ben caught up. He lifted Laci off his shoulders and lowered her to the ground. She hurtled toward her mother and wrapped herself on her legs.

“Thank you!” her mother cried. “I stopped in a shop to grab one thing, and the next thing I knew she was gone.”

“She came right up and asked us for help,” you said.

“Seriously, thank you so much,” she said. 

A beat passed as she looked at you. “Aren’t you two on Dancing With the Stars?”

You smiled. “Yeah! I’m Y/N, and this is Ben Hardy.”

“I thought I recognized you,” she said. “The whole family are big fans.”

“We hope that means you’re voting for us,” Ben joked.

She laughed. “Of course! Especially now, after what you’ve done. Is there...anything else I can do for you guys to thank you?”

You and Ben exchanged a surprised look.

“No, nothing,” he assured her. “Really, she was no trouble.”

“Then can I just ask for a picture?” she said a little sheepishly.

“Of course!” you agreed.

She picked up Laci and put her on her hip. Ben took her phone and you all leaned in for a selfie. He snapped the photo and returned her phone to her and she thanked you again and again. When you parted ways at last, Laci in her mother’s arms, she waved to you over her shoulder, until she was out of sight.

“What a sweetheart,” you cooed. You turned to Ben. “And you! You really were like a Disney prince!”

He looked at the ground. “No, I wasn’t. I was just being a good person.”

“You literally swept her off her feet,” you said.

“I do the same thing to you every week,” he teased, winking at you.

It made you stop in your tracks. You caught your breath and then kept on walking. Shortly after, the cameras were gone and you and Ben were free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon however you liked. You packed as much as you could into the day, since Ben had actually never been before. You had an absolute blast on all the rides, sometimes holding tightly to him as you went. A few other people recognized you and asked for pictures as well, which you happily agreed to.

Finally, you stopped to eat something. You picked a restaurant in the New Orleans Square and sat down to eat. As you waited for your food, you chatted some more.

“So, are you excited for this week’s dance?” you asked.

“I’m always excited to dance with you,” he replied, and you hoped he missed the color that flooded your cheeks. “But I am excited for this dance. I’m actually a bit relieved to not be a prince character.”

“Why?” you wondered.

“Well, I feel like it’s how everyone sees me,” he explained. “The hot guy or whatever. I want to be known for my performance, not the way I look. It’s why - when I have a choice - I always choose to remain clothed.”

You cocked your head to the side with a questioning look. He laughed at how cute you were.

“For example, when I did Woman in White, there was a scene where I could have had my shirt off,” he said. “I chose to keep it on because I wanted people focused on the scene. Not my body.”

“Are you insecure about it or something?” you asked, incredulous at the idea.

“No, not at all,” he answered. “I’m proud of my body and all that but I don’t like being objectified. Ogled.”

“It makes you feel like the reason you get parts is because you’re eye candy,” you summarized.

“Yes, exactly,” he said. “I want to be recognized for my talent.”

“Ben, you are a very handsome man,” you said, holding out your hand, which he took. “But you are so much more than that. You’re really talented. Not just at acting, but dance now too. Even more than both those things, you’re genuinely one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. It’s probably what I like most about you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Really.”

You enjoyed dinner together and you realized your newfound respect for Ben. He took his art really seriously. He had fun, but he was intent on doing things the right way. You admired him greatly for it.

The next day, you began rehearsals. Ben was enthusiastic as usual as you broke down the basics for him. One fun thing about this routine was that you were doing a lift where he had to flip you over a cane. It was whimsical and interesting. Ben was incredibly careful with you. Luckily, he was strong and only dropped you once. You laughed on the floor when he fussed and wondered if you were okay. 

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “Believe me, this happens all the time. Do you need a break?”

“Yeah, maybe a short one,” he said.

You sat down and grabbed some water, allowing him to shake it off. At that moment, Sasha entered, carrying a gossip magazine. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Look what I found!” Sasha teased. “You two were really cozying up at Disney, eh?”

He handed you the magazine and you opened it to the page he had dog-eared. You groaned when you saw it. It was you and Ben at the restaurant holding hands. The text speculated you were in a relationship, and also implied how it would break James’s heart that you had “moved on.”

“Looks like you two are the couple of the season,” Sasha said.

“I’m happy to take some of the pressure off Sharna, but this is ridiculous,” you said. It usually was Sharna who was rumored to be dating her male partners on the show. 

“Yeah, Y/N was just being nice to me right then,” said Ben. “We were really just having a moment of genuine friendship.”

“You know how it goes,” Sasha said. “The press has to come up with some scandal if they can. Unless of course it’s true.”

You smacked him on the arm. “Don’t you have some rehearsal you need to be at, Mr. Bottom Two?” 

Sasha feigned offense. “Oh, she’s feisty. Good luck, Ben!” 

He left with a laugh and without the magazine. You kicked it into the corner. 

“Let’s get back to work, shall we?” you said. 

Ben smiled and agreed. 

He picked up the routine well. You worked extra hard to get the parts where you tossed his cane and your umbrella down to perfect timing. By the time dress rehearsal rolled around, you were feeling great. You were getting fitted for your dress. It was the white one, similar to what Julie Andrews wore in the movie, but with a little more sex appeal. Your neckline was a deep vee, and the red bit really cinched in your waist. The skirt only went just past your knees and you couldn’t resist doing a twirl and getting the layers floating around your legs.

You heard Ben gasp in the doorway. You beamed at him. 

“Wow,” he sighed. “You look…”

“Practically perfect in every way?” you finished.

He nodded. You naturally made you way to his arms and settled there. 

“You look pretty good yourself, handsome,” you said, straightening his bow tie. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Are you ready to kill it?” you asked. 

“It’s only dress rehearsal,” he laughed.

“No excuses, Hardy,” you said, poking his chest. “Give me everything you got, remember?”

“Yes, coach.”

You made it through dress rehearsal without a hitch. You were sure you and Ben would be getting even higher scores this time around. It was going so smoothly. 

The time came for the performance. You and Ben were going right in the middle of everyone else, which was fine with you. You were certain he’d stand out. Tom started to introduce you.

“Next up, take a look at Ben and Y/N’s experience at Disney, where they faced an unexpected visitor,” he said.

The video package showed you and Ben talking and then they included finding Laci. You rolled your eyes. Ben actually watched the video this time, and he smiled at Laci’s face.

“She really was cute, wasn’t she?” he said.

You nodded. “Well, she and her mom are voting so let’s do them proud.”

You got set up as the video faded to black, the music started, and you began your routine. 

You and Ben leapt around that dance floor like Mary Poppins and Bert were right off the screen. He got every step. He nailed the small lift, and you felt like you really brought some fire to that jazz. When you finished, you embraced, before heading over to the judges, very much out of breath. 

“Once again, I’m shocked,” Carrie Ann began. “Seriously, jazz can be so hard, and Y/N pulled no punches with that choreography.” She added a few notes about footwork.

“I won’t lie to you, Ben,” Len began, but then he broke into a smile. “I really, really liked that dance. You went in there, gave it some welly, and you performed a real jazz number. Well done.”

You and Ben laughed and squeezed each other. 

“I loved that dance,” Bruno agreed. “You were bouncing around, and you really captured the essence of Mary Poppins and Dick Van Dyke in that movie. And honestly, you behaved like a real Disney hero for that little girl in the park. Well done, Ben!”

They all clapped for you as you headed to the skybox to talk to Erin and receive your scores. The other pros and contestants high fived you guys as you came through, finally stopping in front of the camera.

“Great job, you guys!” Erin said. “Honestly, Ben, you and that little girl had my heart just melting. What exactly happened there?”

“Y/N and I were walking and the girl - Laci - literally just walked up and asked us to help her find her mum,” he explained. “She was so sweet, so we helped her out, and luckily, her mum wasn’t too far away.”

“Still so, so cute,” she said. “Let’s see what the judges thought.”

You waited while the scores came in. All three of them scored you a nine. You screamed with joy and leapt into Ben’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. The three nines placed you at the top of the leaderboard. You felt like you were in the clouds. Between the dance, the scores, and the thrill of being in the lead, nothing could bring you down. Ben was exactly the same. You couldn’t stop hugging each other. 

“You did it!” you cried. “I’m so proud of you!”

“We did it!” he returned. “Together!”

You got warm all over from the sentiment. 

Finally, it was elimination time. You and Ben joined the other couples on the stage as you waited once again for Erin and Tom to go through couple by couple to tell them who was in danger. You gripped Ben’s hand so tight, you were sure his fingers were bruised. 

“Ben and Y/N,” Erin said. “I’m sorry, you guys are in danger tonight.”

Your mouth fell open and you looked at Ben. He swallowed and pulled you under his arm. He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes. You held tightly to him, fearing you may not get to hold him again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not over yet,” he said, sounding more confident than he looked. 

You waited. There were three couples total in danger. You and Ben, Sasha and his partner, and Lindsay and her partner. 

“The couple that is leaving us tonight is…” Tom began.

You gripped handfuls of Ben’s jacket, sending a silent prayer that you wouldn’t have to let him go yet. You weren’t ready. 

“Sasha and…”

You sighed with relief, but did not let go of Ben. He didn’t release you either. You held each other for a long moment. The others were already moving to say goodbye to Sasha and his partner. You and Ben looked at each other and then joined them, noticeably behind. 

“That concludes Disney night,” Tom said to the camera. “Thanks for joining us and come back next week to see what our stars come up with for country night!”

[jawnjendes]

shawn meets... | isabella

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: time for a new oc! and by NEW i mean, new to yall,,, ive had this oc since i was 15

***let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

previous chapter 

isabella’s origin story not available | isabella’s playlist | masterlist

Out of all the places he’s been to, London seemed to bring the most interesting people to Shawn’s already interesting life. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was an international singing sensation, or because of his own strange luck. Was his college life this weird with people?

College… it felt like somebody else’s life. It had been a few years since he walked through the massive campus, but there were still days that Shawn found himself missing that life. He especially missed it these days because he still had Brian in that life. Not to mention it was all mundane and normal. A number of people knew Shawn, but it was not the colossal amount that knew him now. Back then, he could go to a karaoke bar and get as trashed as he wanted, and the only consequence would be a killer hangover. Back then, he would be going to a karaoke bar with his best friend.

These last few months were a grieving period. Shawn hadn't planned on taking time off, but the funeral was the last straw. Hearing the broken wails of Brian's mother as the casket was lowered into the ground was all too much. He couldn't handle the guilt that sat on his shoulders, or the grief that weight down on his chest. He couldn't look his friend's family in the eyes and say it was his fault why their son was dead. So time off was taken, and a tour was canceled, and much therapy was had.

Now, four months later, Shawn was getting back into the swing of things. He was back in London with the intention of songwriting and possibly some recording. His mind was still cloudy and his chest was still heavy, but he was deemed functional enough by Andrew and his therapist.

However, Shawn couldn't wander the streets alone. That was the case ever since his first fan mobbing in Los Angeles a few years ago. More recently, ever since the girl who bruised Shawn’s wrist happened, Jake had to be at his side at all times. Even at a crowded karaoke bar where his face blended with everyone else under the dim lights, and where everyone focused on the person singing onstage.

Shawn looked down at his right wrist. The bruises were long gone, and he could still play guitar just as he did before. The thought of never playing again gave him an uncomfortable chill. He couldn't be thinking about that, not when worse things had happened. Brian was the one who pointed out how odd and nonhuman that girl was. Shawn wouldn't have been able to figure out the truth about her and her employer. He really needed the karaoke bar tonight.

At least Jake was considerate enough to sit a couple of stools away from Shawn, giving him the illusion that he was here by himself. He nursed his beer and scanned the room, not really listening to the karaoke host introduce the next singer. Shawn was not really sure what he was looking for here. He chatted with the handsome, blond bartender, but he got busy with the night rush. All Shawn knew was that he didn’t want to be stuck alone in a hotel room, and he really didn’t want to be around more people who would share their condolences and fond memories of someone they hardly knew. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar song play on the speakers did Shawn finally focus on the stage.

If it was his own song, Shawn would have had to leave the bar. But it was Niall’s On My Own, making Shawn briefly consider texting the Irish singer to see what he’s up to tonight. However, he quickly zeroed in on the girl singing, and he started to wonder if he really did have a type.

She had short, choppy black hair, like she had cut it herself. These round purple sunglasses hung on the bridge of her nose, and it was the only thing that stood out from her all black ensemble: a low cut tank top, ripped jeans, and Converse high tops. She moved animatedly around the stage, that short hair bouncing and getting disheveled. She didn’t seem to care about how she looked.

Shawn turned back to Jake and gave him that look. “Are you seeing this?” Jake merely gave him a thumbs up.

The other thing about this girl was her voice. Every person that sang before here was… not good. This girl had a strong, rich voice. She could give Niall a run for his money with all the runs she threw into his song. She was talented. Shawn hadn’t heard a voice like that since he heard Bella Santiago sing in person for the first time. (Still a shame that girl won’t accept any record deal she was offered.)

Everyone in the bar seemed to like this girl too. The crowd roared with applause and cheers when she hit the bridge of the song. Shawn bopped his head along to the beat, feeling a genuine smile on his face for the first time in weeks. He clapped as hard as he could when the song ended, but then his heart dropped as he saw this girl walk off the stage and head for the bar. He turned to face the bartender, but looked down at his half empty bottle. His heart nearly stopped when the girl took the empty stool next to him.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a British accent that came out of her. At least, not a noticeable one. She sounded more American than anything else.

“Thanks, Seth,” she said to the bartender as he seemed to make a Blue Moon magically appear out of nowhere. “What’d you think?”

“Showing everyone how it’s done, like always.” He winked.

She giggled. “We getting outta here soon?”

“After last call, won't be long now."

Shawn felt a blow in his stomach. She was here with the bartender. Well, time to call it a night.

Then, there was something like magic. Shawn had turned towards Jake to signal him to get out of here, but there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned back around to find the girl looking at him.

“I sat here for a reason, you know,” she said, eyebrows raised.

Magic!

Shawn grinned. “That reason being?”

“Handsome chap, alone in a bar? Too good to be true, so I had to investigate. You here alone, mysterious stranger? I mean, apart from your bodyguard, of course.” She took a gulp from her beer.

Shawn was thrown off by that entire string of words. He couldn’t even try to play dumb. “How did you-”

“He’s had that protective look in his eyes since I sat down,” she explained. “And I know protection like nobody’s business.”

“Oh, you’re a bodyguard, eh?” Shawn asked, his eyes shamelessly trailing down her petite body. Yes, it was an excuse to look at the decent amount cleavage she had going on.

“Eh?” she repeated with a chuckle. “What, are you Canadian or something?” She laughed like it was such a ridiculous thought.

He blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

The girl laughed even more, her eyes squinting. “Are you joking? Canada’s not real!”

Maybe she had a few too many drinks. Shawn watched her with a polite grin as she hiccuped.

“You’re alright, mysterious stranger.” She held out her hand. “Isabella Montgomery.”

“Nice to meet you,” Shawn said as he shook her hand. For someone who just danced around onstage, her hand was quite chilly.

She quirked a dark eyebrow. “Gonna stick with the mysterious stranger thing, are you? Suit yourself.”

Either she recognized him and pretended like she didn’t or… she just didn’t recognize him. Whatever the case, Shawn was perfectly content with being a stranger tonight.

“You gonna sing tonight?” Isabella asked him.

“Oh no, I’m not drunk enough for that,” he said. “Besides, I don’t think I could follow up the show you just put on.”

She smiled. “You’re probably right. But I’ve got the smallest feeling you might be an alright singer.”

Okay, she definitely recognized him.

“I don’t really want the attention on me tonight,” he admitted.

Isabella nodded understandingly. “I see. Well, would you wanna get outta here?”

The two of them looked at each other for a split second. Shawn was quite forward himself, but he wasn’t that quick. Not to mention, he just overheard her make plans with Seth the bartender.

“To another pub,” Isabella hastily corrected. “There’s a place my friend over here and I are gonna head to. You wanna come along?”

“Oh!” Shawn felt a little more delighted now that she clarified the bartender situation. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Where's this place at?”

Isabella licked her lips and grinned. She looked for her bartender friend, who just announced last call on the microphone. When he returned to his post, Isabella waved him over.

“Yes, my dear?” Seth asked.

“My new mysterious mate wants to come with us,” she told him.

“Oh, does he? Think he can handle it?”

“I can handle it,” Shawn piped up. “What kinda place is it, anyway?”

Isabella and Seth shared a look, silently communicating. Then, they both turned back to the mysterious stranger.

“It’s, er, a nerdy… type of place,” Isabella explained slowly. “People cosplay… Dungeons and Dragons type of things. They take it very seriously, won’t even break character if you talk to them. It’s a weird environment, but it’s fun nonetheless.”

Shawn nodded as he took in the information. Wouldn’t be the first nerd-themed place he’s been too. But it has been a while. “I’m down. Sounds fun.”

“There’s karaoke there too,” Seth added. “And, we can promise that you will continue being a mysterious stranger while we’re there.”

A karaoke bar where no one will recognize him? Sounds like a dream.

“Let’s do it,” he told his new friends.

This nerd bar was hidden. The shelf behind the bar was actually a secret door. Seth pushed it open with surprising ease while Isabella hopped over the bar. Shawn looked at Jake, who didn’t seem suspicious or hesitant. Yet.

Seth let the others pass through first before shutting the shelf door behind him. Then, Isabella led them down a hallway lit by dim blue lights. She pushed open another door, revealing a bar that was much darker than the previous one. It felt more like a nightclub.

Shawn could barely make out people wearing long colorful robes, dancing under the strobe lights. Definitely nerd space. An unrecognizable song was blaring over the speakers. As Shawn tried to figure out what exactly the lyrics were saying, Isabella nudged him.

“I’ll sign us up for karaoke!” she yelled over the music.

“Wait-” he tried to say, nerves building up in his stomach.

“You’re singing with me no matter what!”

And she disappeared towards the stage.

Before Shawn could stop her, Seth came in for the distraction. He pulled Shawn over to the bar and ordered something for the three of them. Soon enough, there were shot glasses lined up along the surface of the bar, and Isabella had found the boys.

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

Each of them grabbed their tiny glass. Shawn looked around for his guard, now nervous about being left alone, but he found Jake in the far corner of the club. Watching. Waiting. Unbothered.

That was enough for Shawn to down one, two, three shots of whatever the fuck with these people. He felt fire in his veins, euphoria surrounding him. Everything he was previously worried about didn’t matter anymore.

“We’re gonna sing Panic!” Isabella told him at some point.

“Can’t wait!”

Next thing he knew, Shawn was onstage in front of a massive group of nerds, High Hopes blaring on the speakers. Isabella was next to him, microphone in hand as she belted out the beginning of the song with her killer voice.

Shawn took over the first verse, and the two of them harmonized wonderfully. At least, with the alcohol in his system, it felt that way. The two of them danced around on stage like fools, not caring about looking cool or composed or even trying to sing well. Isabella sounded naturally good, though. She messed up her hair and nearly tripped on her feet a few times, but man could that girl carry a tune.

“Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn’t know how, but I always had a feeling I was going to be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes”

It was liberating. It was spiritually healing. It was different than performing in an arena of thousands of people. He could just be silly and not have to put on his tour persona.

They only sang one song, but it was enough for Shawn to feel something other than the crushing grief that was frequently on his shoulders. He felt good, almost happy. He danced with these strangers and drank some more. He saw pretty lights dancing around the ceiling, he could almost see the stars and the moon through it too. It was magical, to say the least.

"Guys, I'm getting hungry!" Isabella exclaimed after a while.

"Well, I'm getting tired!" Seth told her. "What about you, mysterious stranger?"

"Fooooooood!"

The three of them (Jake in tow, of course) left the way they came in. Seth pushed open the shelf door and let the others through. Shawn's ears were ringing once he was back in the quiet, but there was still adrenaline coursing through his system. He wasn't ready for the night to be over.

But Seth was. He stretched his long arms over his head and yawned once all of them were out in the humid night. “I’m out for the night, lads. It was cool hanging out with you, stranger.”

“You too, brother,” Shawn said, clasping his shoulder.

Seth then turned to Isabella. “I’ll see you at home?”

“See you at home,” she confirmed.

Then, Seth stalked off down the street, practically disappearing into a dark alley. There was a cracking sound that broke the quiet night, but Shawn wasn’t exactly preoccupied with that.

"Where we gonna eat?" he asked Isabella.

However, Jake stepped in. "We should really get going. It's late enough as it is."

"But I'm hungry!" Shawn whined.

"Yeah, the boy is hungry!" Isabella assertively repeated, placing her hands on her hips. "Can't let him starve now, can we? There's a burger joint down the road, 's not that far."

The two of them stared down the bodyguard. He usually took Shawn away from the fun despite the singer's protests. It was always because they had something to do or somewhere to be the next day, but there were still a couple of days left before the demands came back… before the prominent absence of a certain Brian made itself known yet again. Shawn wanted to savor this time, drunk or not.

Jake seemed to realize this as well, because he suddenly approved. “Alright. You eat, and then it’s back to the hotel.”

Isabella bounced on her feet. “Sweet! Let’s go!”

She linked her arm with Shawn’s and led him literally ten steps up the road. The burger joint was empty apart from the cashier working the graveyard shift. Jake went to sit at the booth in the corner, continuing to do his job.

“God, I’m dying for a veggie burger,” Isabella said, looking up at the menu.

“Are the garlic fries any good?” Shawn asked.

“Wouldn’t know, I have a garlic allergy.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere else? What if your food touches garlic?”

She waved it off. “I don’t have severe reactions or anything. And I’ve been here loads of time. Trust me, it’s safe.”

Well, if she knows her own body… The two of them ordered, and Shawn made sure to keep the allergen out of his meal as well. Then, they sat down two booths ahead of Jake, still keeping the illusion that Shawn was out and about on his own.

Under the much brighter lights of this establishment, Shawn could make out Isabella’s face a little more. She had the babiest baby face a person could have. If they hadn’t met in a bar, Shawn would have thought she was a teenager. The pink blush on Isabella’s cheeks only added to that. Maybe she had used a fake ID at the bar… she could actually be a teenager.

Isabella caught him staring, and immediately knew what was on his mind. “I’m twenty-four, just so you know.”

“Oh, I wasn’t-” he tried to say.

“Lots of people give me that look. You know how many clients of mine think I’m an intern?”

Shawn blinked slowly, his hazy mind still processing what she just said. “Um, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a lawyer for muuu- ah, uh - immigration lawyer.” She grinned nonchalantly.

“That’s awesome,” Shawn said.

“Yeah, a few years back I volunteered my services when people in the States were being wrongfully detained at various airports,” she explained. “I got hired by a law firm in New York, so I lived there for a bit.”

Shawn was impressed, but he thought about exactly how long ago those events took place. He was still a little weary about Isabella and her age, so he counted backwards on his fingers. However, the math got difficult and fuzzy in his still inebriated mind, so he took her word for it.

“I promise you I’m older than I look,” Isabella said with a laugh. Then, she turned serious. “Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded rapidly, numbers still flying around in his head.

“I know you’re not just a mysterious stranger,” she admitted. “I know who you are.”

His eyes widened a little bit. Was this another disturbed fan interaction? Oh god, maybe he should have listened to Jake and gone back to the hotel.

“You performed at Sapphire Lilith’s birthday party,” Isabella clarified, seeing the look on his face. “I was there.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. I performed at her house.” And he spent a blissful week with Sapphire, only to result in her ghosting him and the death of his best friend. He cleared his throat as that memory came to mind. “How do you know Sapphire?”

“Her parents died few years ago and she needed me to look over their wills,” Isabella said casually. “Oh, and she got robbed a few times and needed to me look into the legal part of it.”

Shawn tilted his head. “But aren’t you an immigration lawyer?”

“Yeah. We also went to the same sleepaway school years ago.” She shrugged. “Uniforms for girls were pink, but you would never catch me in that shit. I spray painted my dresses black and wore sneakers. I got in so much trouble.”

“Wow. Got ourselves a rebel here.” He chuckled, his hand sliding across the table.

Isabella was faster than him. A single blink later, and she was standing. “I think our order is ready.”

Something fell out of her pocket, making a small clattering noise. Shawn immediately reached down to pick up the item, only to be confused at what it was.

“You dropped your… wand?”

He didn’t even get a good look at the dark wood before Isabella snatched it out of his hand and shoved it back into her pocket. Her eyes were suspiciously wide again.

“I, uh, I love Henry Popper. Be right back!”

As Isabella went to the cashier, Shawn looked back at Jake two booths behind. He seemed more confused than suspicious. Or, spaced out. His eyes were staring back at the guy he was supposed to be guarding, but it didn’t look like he had processed anything that just happened.

Then, Isabella came back to the table, non-too-gently setting their tray down on the table. The noise was loud enough to make Shawn jump and face her again.

“Sorry for freaking out,” she said, somber.

“It’s okay. Hey, I love Harry Potter too,” he replied. “I’m obsessed. Did you get your wand at Universal?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Me too!”

Isabella pointedly grinned and tilted her head. “Really? You give off big Hufflepuff energy.”

“Why does everyone say that?” Shawn chuckled before taking a bite of his burger.

“Because it’s true?”

“And how would you know that?”

“Who has the wand between the two of us? And don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Shawn playfully narrowed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed. “Didn’t realize I was talking to the queen of all things Harry Potter!”

Isabella chuckled. “You could say he’s like a friend to me. As a matter of fact, I saw him yesterday when he came round for tea.”

That got a laugh out of him. Any worry he had about this girl was now gone. He would much rather be here than be alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. How often does he get a genuine conversation like this anyway? How often does he get the time to talk to anyone and form one-on-one connections?

He was doing exactly what he wanted to do: make music and perform it. Six years ago, Shawn had no idea what it would cost to be able to do this. When was the last time he had spoken to any of his friends? His family? He looked down at his meal, suddenly not very hungry.

“Hey!” Isabella said, lightly tapping his arm. “Don’t get sad on me now! Am I really that depressing to be around?”

“Of course not,” Shawn said without missing a beat. “And I’m not sad.”

“Please, you reek of stress, loss, and…” She sniffed the air. “Guilt?”

Shawn scrunched his brows, pretending like he was not just attacked. “Where do you get all that from?”

She coughed. “Just a guess. I imagine, being a mysterious stranger, it’s hard to come by actual friends.”

That was something he could talk about without getting too deep into his drunken feelings. “I… yeah. People define you by what you are on the outside and see nothing else. Don’t even take the time to see what’s inside, in your heart.”

Isabella was playing with her fries. “I know what that’s like. All I’ve ever been is a blood sucking parasite with a wand. Doing what you know you’re destined to do comes with a lot of sacrifices.”

“Absolutely,” Shawn agreed. His own cave of regrets came to mind, but he wasn’t drunk enough to share any of them.

next chapter

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taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @someoneunimportantxx @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsunflower @chillingbythesea @theprivatesmutacc 

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 1 - Orphans from the East

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they've made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally posted by loga-boga

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence.

Word Count: 4,699

Next Chapter

Playlist: “Red Dead Redemption 2 Trailer Theme” — L’Orchestra Cinematique, “Blessed Are The Peacemakers” — Woody Jackson, “Old Dog” — The Scratch

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A/N: Also available on AO3. So I've been obsessing over the Red Dead series since December and decided to finally bite the bullet and write a fic about my favourite cowboys and gals. That being said, this bad boy is the result of smashing heads together with a friend of mine, who is also a writer and contributing just as much to the narrative and characters. So this is essentially a mutual creation of ours and we hope y'all enjoy some western shenanigans with some Irish patriotism sprinkled on top. This is my first attempt at anything Red Dead related, so hopefully it isn't a steaming pile of trash! Any thoughts at all, comments are always welcome.

“What the hell is this?”

Arthur Morgan had found himself in many sticky situations in his short life, but standing with his revolver pointed at a pair of kids was definitely a new one.

Well, they were pointing their own guns right back at him, so it wasn’t exactly a situation that required basic manners.

“Looks like they got to our take first,” Dutch replied in disbelief from his spot between the two parties. Their agitated mounts continuously shuffled on their hooves, neighing restlessly as each rider did their best to focus on the newest threat before them. “Hold on a minute there, son—”

“Who are you lot?” the young boy demanded, with his revolver currently pointed directly at Dutch. Behind him, a girl had just finished shoving the much sought after contents of the stagecoach lockbox into a large bag. In her other hand was a gun pointed directly between Arthur’s eyes.

“You best drop that gun, you little shit!” a very wound up John Marston ordered. “Before I put a bullet in your head!”

The girl swiftly pointed her gun towards John, the threat apparently cutting deep. Despite her slight frame and obvious youth, her voice sounded confident from beneath her bandana. “Try it, greasy! I’ll take great pleasure in riddlin’ your fuck-ugly face!”

Of course, John was never one for staying calm. “You ain’t in charge here, little missy!”

“Marston!” Arthur cut in, seeing things spiralling quickly if they didn’t do something.  His furrowed brow was already covered in sweat beneath his hat. “Shut your damn mouth and take it easy!”

“No one needs to die here,” Hosea added, his voice surprisingly calm despite their current predicament. “We all need to relax.”

Dutch agreed and tried to take control of the situation as he always did. “My good friend here is right. How about lowerin’ your guns, fellers, and we can talk this out.”

The boy’s eyes flared on his mostly hidden face. “How about you get your monkeys to lower theirs first!”

While the insult barely fazed Arthur, John was a little more sensitive. “Shut your damn mouth!”

Well Jesus, this couldn’t possibly end well…

* * *

8th June, 1890, outside Waukesha, Wisconsin

Today is the day. Dutch wants me and Marston to scout out the road before the stagecoach comes through later this evening. It’ll be the kid’s first real try at a robbery like this, so Dutch thinks getting familiar with the area might help settle his nerves a little… I was against it at first, but he said we need the extra man if we’re going to deal with the Pinkerton escort afterwards.

As long as he keeps a cool head he should be fine, but he’s still not one for taking orders very well, even if he’s been with us for five years. Still young, dumb as shit, and eager to prove himself. I’m hoping he learns to listen though — Lord knows I’d hate to see anything happen to him.

* * *

“Grub’s up, folks! Grub’s up!”

Arthur closed over his journal at Pearson’s call. Glancing up to see the cook placing a steaming pot of stew over the fire, he returned the book to its spot on his bedside table. Morning had swiftly arrived at the camp, and most of the inhabitants were up and about already, attending to the many chores that needed doing. It was a clear and sunny day, with only a few fluffy white clouds littering the blue sky. The heat was somewhat intense despite the early hour and brought a light sheen of sweat to his forehead. This camp had been their home for some weeks now, and Arthur really didn’t mind. He quite liked it out here — he always preferred the open plains to dense cities. The cosy field where they now resided was situated on the bank of a river outside a small city called Waukesha. The surrounding lowlands were flat, open, and easy to traverse, but the gang was safely hidden from the nearest trail by a thick group of green trees. Though the region was home to some of Wisconsin’s largest cities, most of it was made up of farmland, so it was relatively easy for them to remain here without being noticed. He really hoped they could stay in these vast fields for some time. He could get used to travelling across the stretching green pastures atop Boadicea, and the first breath of fresh air he inhaled every morning bought a genuine smile to his face.

Arthur’s eyes flitted over the lightly dancing trees on the camp’s outskirts before looking to what had originally grabbed his attention. Though Pearson’s food was in dire need of some seasoning, his stomach rumbled at the prospects of a hot meal. He got to his feet, wiping some of his unruly hair out of his eyes, and went to get his share.

“Mornin’, Mr Morgan,” Susan greeted him as she grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Miss Grimshaw,” he replied with a nod, helping himself to a large bowl of stew.  “Mornin’.”

She took a seat on one of the nearby tables and urged him to join her.

With a shrug, he took a seat and set his bowl down. “Coffee good?”

“As always,” she said. “As long as it calms my nerves it’ll do.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?” he asked before taking a mouthful of stew and ignoring the mild bland taste.

“I seem to be more concerned with this stagecoach than you are!”

“You concerned about the coach, or the fact Marston will be near the coach?”

“He can be a headstrong little brat at times, but I’d rather not see him with a hole in his head.”

Miss Grimshaw shook her head in exasperation, but the gesture only brought a smirk to Arthur’s lips. She could be quite a harsh woman, especially when people lounged around and didn’t do their part in keeping everything running smoothly. Despite being the current flame of the ever flirtatious Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw refused to sit idly by and act like the lady of the manor. She was very much involved in ensuring that the camp remained a functioning unit. She was perfect for the role, probably because she could be positively terrifying if you didn’t help out.

“I’ll admit,” Arthur began, swallowing some food. “I wasn’t exactly happy ’bout the idea at first, but Dutch has faith in the little brat. And besides, he’s got me, Dutch, and Hosea lookin’ out for him. He’ll be fine as long as he does what we say.”

Susan eyed him carefully, but nodded, seemingly happy with his words. “As long as you do look out for him, Mr Morgan. You know how he can be — he reminds me a lot of you at that age.”

“Hey now! Don’t go comparin’ me to that fool—”

Miss Grimshaw cut across him with ease. “It is the reason you two get on so well, what with bein’ such like-minded individuals…”

Arthur finished his breakfast while she reeled off the many reasons why he and John were one and the same. Sometimes it as best just to keep his mouth shut, and this seemed like one such moment. His saving grace came when Dutch called him over to his tent.

“Mornin’, Dutch.”

“And a fine morning it is, son,” he replied with gusto and set down the book he had been reading. He offered Arthur a cigarette before taking one for himself. He lit the two, then continued on. “Hosea and Bessie took young John into town to get some supplies for tonight.”

“How’s he seem?” Arthur asked and took a drag.

“John? Seems fine to me. Maybe a little… let’s say, eager, to get goin’.”

“Still got faith in him?”

“O’course,” Dutch said, his voice firm. “We all gotta start somewhere, Arthur, you know that. He’s seventeen now, so it ain’t a bad age to get goin’. Heck, you did it even younger.”

He knew Dutch was right — there was no point letting John fester around camp doing nothing. They definitely didn’t need a second Uncle around the place, and Marston seemed keen to please… Or maybe he was just passionate about shooting something, who knew? It seemed that Dutch did though, and if there was someone whose opinion mattered, it was Dutch.

Arthur kept busy around the camp doing numerous chores while he waited for the trio to return. Chopping firewood and helping Pearson prepare their dinner for later at least meant that time flew by for him. He was playing fetch with Copper when John finally returned with Hosea and Bessie in tow. While the older couple went to check in with Dutch, Arthur and John mounted their horses and, with Copper running along side them, headed out down the road to the spot where they intended to rob the stagecoach.

“Why are we robbin’ it at this spot exactly?” Marston asked, scanning his eyes over the strip of dirt road.

“It’s the best distance outside town where a robbery won’t attract any attention,” Arthur explained, gently patting Boadicea. “The stagecoach is carryin’ bank transfers into Milwaukee, so you can bet that robbin’ it close to town would bring a whole heap of law on us. See that turn there?” He pointed off in the distance, tipping the brim of his hat to keep the shimmering sunlight out of his eyes. “It’s gonna come down that road there and loop this way. We’ll be waitin’ on this here ridge and hidden in some of the trees so that they don’t spot us.”

“What about them?” the younger boy asked. “They got any guns?”

“Four in total, if Hosea’s intel is right. So we should be able to take ’em out with the four of us. They’ll have a backup escort comin’ in from there, though.” He pointed up the road in the opposite direction. “’The bank in Milwaukee will be sendin’ out some of their own guns to meet the stagecoach just a little ways up the road, considerin’ this lil strip is so deserted. So we’re expectin’ maybe four more guns to show, which is why Dutch wants you involved. Once we rob the coach and the extra men arrive, there’ll be enough of us to take ’em out if needs be.”

“Sounds dangerous,” John mused, hanging on his every word.

Arthur let out a chuckle and proceeded to light himself a cigarette. “What, you scared, boy?”

“No! I ain’t scared, just bein’ honest about things.”

“You’ll do just fine,” the older man reassured him and offered him a cigarette. “You just need’a keep a cool head, and do as Dutch says. That’s how we make sure things go smoothly.” He paused to take a drag. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about if you do that.”

John nodded and puffed away to calm his nerves. “Thanks. I’m just glad that you’ll have my back, brother.”

“That’s what family is for,” Arthur responded with a small grin. He watched Copper as the dog sniffed along the roadside. “You’ll be fine.”

The two of them remained there for a few moments more as Arthur went over their plan of action in more detail. Though he knew how John could be, he was glad to see that he was eager to get to work. He hoped this wouldn’t make him over excited when the time came, but he thought back on what Dutch had said — he needed to put faith in his brother to do the job right. Thankfully, Marston had yet to give him a reason to doubt him so aggressively.

They returned to camp and waited out the rest of the day going over their plan with Hosea and Dutch. They had everything planned perfectly — it had to be, otherwise they could find themselves in a sticky situation once the Pinkerton escort arrived. Regardless, spirits were high at dinner time when Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, and young John mounted up and headed out to rob the stagecoach. They road through the fields in the late evening sun, avoiding the main road so that they wouldn’t be spotted ahead of time. The familiar buzz that came with performing robberies and the like was already stirring within Arthur’s chest. It was always risky business, but a part of him loved the thrill and feeling of power that came with these takes. Knowing that the money would be given to those who needed it most also gave him a nice sense of self-worth — it was one of the only things in his life that made him feel that way. He wasn’t a good man by any means, but he still tried to do some small bit of good where he could.

“And here we are,” Dutch announced from atop his horse as the group arrived at the waiting spot. He glanced at his pocket watch and nodded. “Right on time. Does everyone remember the plan?”

“O’course,” Arthur confirmed.

“Good. Now, cover your faces; we won’t be waitin’ too long for the stage to swing by.”

Arthur quickly pulled his bandana up to cover his mouth and nose and double-checked that his guns were fully loaded and ready to be used if things took a turn.

“Remember, gentlemen,” Dutch continued on. “No killing unless absolutely necessary.”

“Best of luck, everyone,” Hosea added.

Then the group descended into silence and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Arthur’s fingers flexed on his reigns. He could see John beginning to get anxious. Something definitely wasn’t right.

The only noise they could hear was the light breeze on the leaves above their heads, and the persistent ticking of Dutch’s pocket watch as he checked the time again.

“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Hosea whispered, mimicking Arthur’s own concerns. “They should have come through here by now.”

“Maybe you got the times wrong?” John suggested. “Or the place?”

Arthur shook his head. “That ain’t it. We heard from multiple people and all of them said it would come through this road at this time.”

“So what do we do then?”

“Well,” Dutch sighed, somewhat vexed with the development. He pulled down his bandana and turned to the rest of them. “We can’t stay here and wait for it to possibly arrive. I suggest we head up road and see do we come across it. But we stay out of sight and appear as inconspicuous as we can until I say otherwise.”

Hosea nodded and uncovered his face. “I agree. It’s definitely a better idea than waitin’ here and hopin’ for the best.”

“In that case, follow me, gentlemen.”

Arthur followed as the group made their way through the fields adjacent to the strip of road. They kept an eye out, but met no one along the way, and their anxiety only grew with each passing second. This was some take according to the locals, so missing it would be a great loss to the gang.

“Up ahead!” Dutch suddenly announced in a hushed tone.

Arthur looked up to see a stagecoach in the distance, stationary on the road. “Why’s it stopped?”

“Because,” Dutch growled out. “It’s bein’ robbed.”

“It’s what?”

“Somebody beat us to it! C’mon!”

Right well, this certainly wasn’t an outcome for which the gang was prepared. Arthur  hastily followed Dutch’s lead as their horses galloped up to the precious stage. He strained his eyes to get a look at who had intercepted the take before they even had a chance. The closer he got, the more information became apparent to him — two figures crowded the rear of the coach, one of whom was emptying its contents into a bag. The other stood by guarding her every move. The drivers and guards were nowhere to be found. At first, Arthur just assumed that the figures were small because of their position in the distance, but the closer he got, the more he realised that this was no normal robbery.

“It’s a pair of kids!” John exclaimed, disgust evident in his tone. “We got beaten to it by some damn kids!”

“Kids?” Arthur repeated in disbelief.

With the noise of their arrival, the pair of young thieves looked up from their prize to see four men thundering towards them on horseback. They were clothed in dirty outfits with bandanas hiding their identities. A quick once over told Arthur that it was boy and a girl who had managed to rob an obscene amount of money from the stage. How in the hell had two kids manage that?

Perhaps riding directly to them hadn’t been the best idea, as the pair were quick to point their guns at the gang.

“Hold on there!” Dutch called, grinding his mount to a halt and holding up his hands. The trio behind him followed suit, but Arthur and John instead chose to aim a weapon at each of them just in case.

“What the hell is this?” Arthur asked, completely dumbfounded with the situation they found themselves in.

“Cé hiad na leaids sin?” the girl asked her companion.

“The fuck you say?” John demanded, already losing his temper.

“Who are you lot?” the boy demanded, his eyes very skeptical already and completely unfazed by this strange man’s apparent aggression.

And now here they were — facing off against a pair of kids on a quiet dirt road. Sometimes Arthur really got tired of this shit.

“How about you get your monkeys to lower theirs first!”

“Take it easy, son,” Dutch answered calmly with his hands still raised. “We mean you no harm.”

“Your friends with the guns there don’t give us much comfort,” the girl replied in a thick Irish accent. “Now do as he said and get them to lower their weapons!”

“If you give me your word that you won’t shoot ’em, I will.”

“Is that a good idea?” Arthur asked, not exactly enjoying pointing his gun at a kid, but also not liking the idea of being defenceless.

“Trust me, Arthur. You and John, put the guns away.”

Arthur released a heavy sigh, but listened to his mentor and returned his gun to its holster. “Goddammit…”

John obliged, though he was far more hesitant to listen. A stern look from Hosea got the point across.

“Now,” Dutch announced. “We did as you asked. How about you meet us halfway and lower yours?”

The pair exchanged a knowing look before slowly lowering their revolvers, but not putting them away. The boy called out to them again. “Now, as I was sayin’, who are you lot and what do you want?”

“No harm in bein’ honest. We were the ones plannin’ on gettin’ that coach, but it seems like you beat us to it.”

“Not our problem,” the girl replied. “We got to it first, so you’s aren’t gettin’ any of it.”

Dutch shook his head. “We ain’t gonna steal it from you. You two earned it, fair and square. I don’t quite know how you managed it, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

“We’re used to bumping into rival gangs every now and then,” Hosea added with a goodnatured chuckle. “But not so used to seein’ kids out on jobs.”

“Yeah, well,” the girl grumbled. “You gotta get by somehow when you’ve nothin’ else.”

“Of course!” Dutch agreed. “We ain’t here to judge.”

As they spoke, Arthur briefly turned his head as the sound of horses grabbed his attention. He looked back down the road from where they came, and suddenly remembered an important detail of the plan. “Awh, shit. We got company!”

“Wait, what?” the boy asked, looking baffled. “What’s goin’ on?”

“The Pinkertons!” Hosea confirmed just as the escort appeared at the end of the trail. “How many we got, Arthur?”

“I see six comin’ in!” he confirmed, looking through his binoculars at the patrol heading down the road.

“That’s more than expected!” John commented in dismay.

“Pinkertons?” the young girl repeated. “What Pinkertons?”

“An escort sent to meet the stagecoach,” Dutch elaborated. “I assume by your confused expressions that you two didn’t know about that part.”

“Jaysus Christ,” the boy muttered and drew a carbine from his back. “No, we didn’t.”

“Well then I think your best odds are to come with us, or you can stay here and try to fight off six guns.”

The kids shared a look again before the girl spoke first in a language that Arthur didn’t understand. “Cad a dhéanfaimid anois?”

The boy shook his and gave her hand a squeeze. “Níl an dara rogha againn. Let’s get outta here.”

“You got horses?”

“No,” the girl explained. “We came on foot.”

“Well then, you hop up here with me, son, and your partner can jump on with my friend, Mr Morgan, there.”

The boy took Dutch’s outstretched hand and hauled himself on to the back of the horse, while Arthur offered the girl a hand and helped to pull her up behind him. “Hold on tight now, you hear?”

“I’ll be grand,” she replied, though he could hear the hint of fear in her voice. “Just move.”

Just as shouts and some shots rang out from the arriving escort, the gang sped off and through a nearby bunch of trees in an effort to lose their pursuers. Arthur felt the young girl hold on to his shoulders tightly as he pushed Boadicea as hard as she could go. The noise of the horses thundering along and jumping over bushes and fences was one that he knew well, and one that was always accompanied by a small amount of worry and excitement. He could hear John and Hosea urging their mounts forwards, realising how risky it was being out in the open like this. The head start thankfully gave them a decent advantage over the Pinkertons as they spend through the Wisconsin fields. Unfortunately, despite the distance between them and the men chasing them, the Pinkertons persisted and were hard to lose.

“They’re still on us,” the girl shouted from behind him. “You’s need to do somethin’!”

“I know,” Arthur answered, breathing in deep. “Just lemme think.”

“What about those trees?” William called, pointing to the outskirts of a bunch of greenery just in front of them.

Right on queue, bullets whizzed over their heads, some a mile off and others unnervingly close.

Arthur let out a huff and ducked his head down as one very nearly got him. “Keep your head down, girl! We’re sittin’ ducks out in the open like this!”

“We can lose them in there!” Dutch confirmed. “We just need to make it past the tree line.”

Behind them, the rate of gunfire began to increase the closer they got to the safety of the trees. The escort clearly knew that they’d lose them amidst the thick foliage. Thankfully, the trees drew closer and closer and their bullets managed to miss their targets as they shifted side to side to throw them off. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as they breached the tree line and slowed to navigate between the brush. He felt the girl’s grip on his frame ease up a little with their new cover and he gave her a swift glance to see how she was holding up.

Dutch called out orders to once more grab their attention. “Everyone, veer left and follow me!”

They manoeuvred carefully between the tall trees and bushes, keeping a careful eye out behind them incase the escort appeared on their tail once more. Thankfully, as they weaved to and fro between the shrubbery, the Pinkertons weren’t seen again. When they finally broke through the edge of the forest and reappeared in an open field, the sun had just about set on the distance and the threat seemed to have been lost.

The horses were eased to a halt and Arthur placed a loving pat on trusty Boadicea’s neck. “You did good, girl.”

“Everyone alright?” Hosea asked the group. The responses he received were unanimously positive though out of breath.

“That certainly could’ve gone worse,” the boy mused as he jumped from The Count.  Seeing no danger around, he pulled his bandana back down to reveal his youthful face. Arthur was surprised to see just how young he was — he looked to be about the same age as he was when he first joined the gang. Despite this, he looked like he was sleeping rough, with a dirty face and a fresh red scar that ran over his right brow and down his cheek. “But at least nobody got shot.”

Arthur noticed the girl dismounting to join her companion and she too pulled off her mask. She seemed just as young as him and showed signs of dirt and older scars. Immediately she went to the boy’s side and gave him a once over. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile and let out a huff as he got his breath back. “I’m grand. Are you?”

“Yeah. Thankfully these lads are good riders.”

She wiped her brow and reached back to tie her messy brown hair out of her face as Dutch addressed them. “I thought you two did pretty good out there, considerin’ you managed that stage all on your own.”

“Yeah, bar the squad that we weren’t even remotely prepared for showin’ up,” the girl replied with a pained smile. She looked up at Dutch and gave him a thankful nod. “We definitely would’a been captured or worse if it wasn’t for you lot.”

“Outlaws gotta stick together in times like these,” he said calmly. “We’re livin’ in different times, and we’re just tryin’ to survive.”

The boy nodded in agreement and then shared a look with the girl. “We appreciate the help Mister, uh…”

“Van der Linde,” Dutch replied and reached out to shake their hands. “Dutch van der Linde. These are my friends, Hosea Matthews, Arthur Morgan, and young John Marston.”

“I’m Maebh Hennigan,” the girl replied. “And this is my brother, William.”

“A pleasure. Can I ask, is it just the two of you? No parents or family around?”

Maebh flinched slightly at the question. “Uh, yeah. Our parents died a while back and the rest of our family is back in Ireland. We have nothin’, so we have to rob sometimes to get by. But that doesn’t matter, we owe you’s a lot for this. I suppose it's only fair that we give you’s a bit of the money from the stage.”

Dutch grinned at her suggestion and Arthur recognised that look almost immediately. He could already see his leader’s mind coming up with his next plan of action. Based on everything that happened today, he thought he had an idea of what it might be. “That’s a very kind offer, Miss Hennigan, but I actually have an offer for you.”

Maebh and William met each others gaze before the latter sceptically asked. “You have an offer for us?”

“As I already said, outlaws have to stick together if we want to get by out here. It’s the best way to ensure that we survive, that we live.”

Dutch was descending into a classic rousing speech with which Arthur and the group were quite familiar. He had heard it many times himself when he needed a bit of self belief in what they were doing. The most notable time he heard it was when he first met Dutch and Hosea as an unruly fifteen year old with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Yes, this was certainly an encounter with which he had some personal experience.

Atop The Count, Dutch stretched out his arms in a welcoming gesture and grinned from ear to ear. “If we want to live like Americans, then we got to have each others backs, no matter how tough or worrisome things may be. You need a family, you need stability, you need to know that you are safe. But I think that today is a sign of what you both could have.” He paused and Maebh and William hung on every word. “My offer to you two, is how’d you like to join my gang?”

[wandlores]

Luck of the Irish

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Daphne Greengrass Words: 2,921 You can also read this on AO3. This is a Muggle AU for St. Patrick’s Day and for the @hprarepairnet and @slytherdornet Spring Challenge!

People always claimed that Daphne was lucky. She had the perfect body, perfect hair, perfect face, and perfect tongue to talk her way out of anything. But really, Daphne wasn't lucky at all. She just knew how to survive. She walked the walk and talked the talk. That was the only way to survive in Slytherin Estates as a young girl, unless you were a prodigy like her younger sister.

Astoria was gifted with the natural talent and beauty. She could play four instruments, she was a straight A student, she was beautiful, she was insanely kind, she was shy but in all the right ways, she was never arrogant, and she truly loved others, especially Daphne. Everyone loved her sister, particularly Daphne's parents. So much so that they never had any love left for Daphne. Not even when Astoria cut-off ties with their parents for good. Daphne would never be good enough, and that's what she realized on that very St. Patrick's Day as she watched her three friends drink at the bar and laugh their asses off until Millicent had a little too much and Pansy and Tracey had to run after her to the pub's bathroom to make sure she made it to the toilet.

Daphne stirred her Appletini absentmindedly and tried not to cry. Tonight was the night she was going to tell her friends she was finally leaving the Estates too like they all had, but something was stopping her. She wasn't sure if it was because of her own reservations deep down or because she knew they would be happy for her. If only they knew she had truly failed. But she supposed it didn't matter tonight, she definitely didn't have a chance to tell them now with Millicent puking up everything she had recently digested. So she downed her drink and waved Cormac over to make her another one. He winked at her as he passed by and mentioned their high school days, hinting at the one time they hooked up junior year. Daphne had to do everything she could not to roll her eyes, but she smiled back at him sweetly as he set her new drink down and gave him a tip. She even bit her lip for good measure. He winked at her again as he went to help other customers in the pub. She slouched in her seat as soon as he turned the corner.

She groaned to herself when she looked at the time and realized her friends had been in the bathroom for over fifteen minutes with Millicent. She was about to get up from her seat to see if she could be of any extra assistance when someone cleared their throat and sat down next to her. She turned her head to look at the stranger and had to try hard not to stare at his biceps. Usually, Daphne would be the type to force herself to show her attraction, but she didn't have it in her tonight. Her natural self came out and she felt embarrassed.

"Are you okay?" The attractive stranger asked her quietly, "You look rather miserable over here."

It was then she realized she needed to put her game face on again. She snorted dramatically and took a gulp of her drink, "Yeah, I'm fine. It is St. Patrick's Day and I have alcohol."

"Okay but-" He started, but she interrupted him.

"Look, I know you are a ginger and all and probably Irish and want to celebrate on this very night, but you are not getting lucky tonight. There is no luck of the Irish here with me."

She expected to look over at him and see a defeated look, but instead, his brow was raised and he was trying not to smirk. It was then she noticed all his freckles and the scar above his right eyebrow, and how could she have ever missed those crystal blue eyes on her first glance?

She cleared her throat before snapping at him, "What is with that look? Why are you laughing? Can't you take a hint that I'm not interested?"

"First of all," he said, "I'm not Irish. Second of all, I definitely don't want to get in your pants, especially if your panties or thong or whatever it is you are wearing is that far up your ass. I was genuinely just curious if you were okay."

"No one is genuinely that nice, no one other than my sister."

"Then you have been around a lot of pathetic people."

He was right, she knew he was right, but she slouched back in her seat again and took another sip of her drink.

"Do you really want to know if I am okay?" She ranted, "Cause I'm not."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She eyed the stranger. She could tell he was genuine, and that almost scared her. She wondered if he was here at the pub alone. She knew she shouldn't tell him anything, but it was all pouring out of her before she could stop herself. She needed to tell someone.

"Actually," she said hotly, "I do. I do really want to talk about how my little sister was the perfect prodigy child and gained my parent's love and I didn't. I want to talk about how I basically lived in a cult of rich assholes my whole life and didn't even realize it. I want to talk about how my sister is still favored even after she disowned my parents and shamed them by marrying another runaway from the Estates. I want to talk about how all my friends have left the Estates but I haven't because I am still trying to earn my parents acceptance and love, even though I truly want to leave. I want to talk about how my best friend married OUR class prodigy after hating him for years and is perfectly happy and I want her life, and I want to talk about how I can't even act like myself if I want to receive love. Oh, and I also REALLY want to talk about how I can't even hate my sister for all of this because I love her so much. I can only resent her and feel guilty for resenting her. Do you see the hard life I live?"

Daphne swore she could hear a pen drop in the pub, but she noticed everyone else around them moving and still partying the night away. The stranger looked at her with sympathetic and attentive eyes and she watched how his hand was clenched around his beer bottle. He didn't say anything for a few moments, so Daphne downed the rest of her drink.

"That was.. uh.. a lot," he commented.

"You think?" She asked him sarcastically.

She waved over Cormac who winked at her again as he took her glass away. Daphne could see the stranger watch them from the corner of her eye.

"You know him?" The stranger asked. She almost swore she could hear a hint of jealousy in his voice, but she knew that was unlikely. He didn't even know her. It was just her inflated ego she had to fake over the years oozing out of her.

"Unfortunately," Daphne replied, "I knew him in high school."

The stranger nodded and took a sip of his drink.

"Are you here alone?" He asked her.

"What are you?" She asked him, "A cop? A stalker? My father? I fucking hope not."

He smirked and looked down at his hands wrapped around his beer bottle, "No, I can just tell you are going to be too drunk to drive home and you shouldn't be around that bartender alone. I feel like he would want to take advantage of you again."

"He never took advantage of me," she scoffed, "He might act like a fuck-boy, but Cormac is actually very chivalrous deep down. He wouldn't let anything happen to me even if I was here alone. But no, to answer your question, I am not here alone. My friends are all in the bathroom tending to another friend who is drunk as fuck."

"And you're not helping them?"

"Is that finally some judgment I sense in your tone?" Daphne joked, "Finally you are taking me seriously."

He rolled his eyes, "No, I just think it is weird they would leave you alone out here."

"Maybe I wanted to be alone," Daphne pressed, "I clearly have a lot on my mind, and besides, I know Cormac well-enough that he wouldn't let anything happen to me.  Sure, one of my friends could have stayed out here with me, but Pansy is the mom of the group and had to make sure Millicent was alright, and well, Tracey would never leave Millicent's side. After they came out and got together, they have basically been attached to the hip. I can tell you that did not go over well at the Slytherin Estates. They are as homophobic as you can get, those assholes."

"And yet you stay?"

Daphne looked into the stranger's eyes again and knew she should look away, but she really was too under the influence to do so, and maybe that was a good thing. Daphne didn't want to have to keep anything hidden anymore. She was done hiding away from everything, but she still dodged his question.

"I don't technically still live in the Estates," she told him, "I am just still associated with the Estates and the country club. My sister and friends are not."

"Why not follow their lead?" He pushed, "You clearly want to."

"I already told you," she explained drunkenly, "I am trying to earn my parent's approval, love, and acceptance. Now that my sister is gone, I might have a chance. Or I thought I did until today."

"What happened today?"

Daphne snorted and sipped the last part of her drink. She was about to call Cormac back over, but the stranger placed his hand on top of hers, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, you are too drunk."

She ignored his statement but didn't order another drink, she just ended up rambling about the truth, "I called my mom to tell her I was postponing college for another year. I'm not into studying, that's Astoria's thing. My sister already graduated with her degree early, not that that probably surprises you, but anyway.. her comment to me then was, 'Why can't you at least be the good parts of your sister even if she disgraced our family?' And that's when I realized I will never be good enough, even with Astoria gone. She will always be their favorite deep down, and I will always be their disappointment, even if I am still present."

Daphne could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she looked away from the stranger. She could see his face from the corner of her eye and could see he felt for her. It was then Daphne realized his hand was still on top of hers. She moved it away from him quickly and placed it in her lap feeling ashamed.

"I'm sorry," the stranger told her, "I truly am." And she knew he was being honest. Anyone with that voice and the decency to check on her in the first place had to be. He was probably even more chivalrous than Cormac was deep down.

"I don't need your pity," Daphne whispered as she wiped away a tear, "And besides, I should go check on my friends."

Daphne tried to stand up from the table and stumbled, but the stranger caught her arm just in time.

"I think you need some help-" He started, but Daphne stopped him.

"No, I will be fine."

She knew she would be when she saw Pansy coming out of the bathroom with Tracey holding Millicent up with one of her arms. Pansy was now stone-cold sober, and she eyed Daphne suspiciously as she approached them.

"Who is this?" Pansy asked her, referencing the stranger holding her up.

The stranger gave Pansy her arm and replied, "I'm Charlie. I was just making sure your friend was okay. She looked pretty drunk out here alone."

Daphne recognized the look of respect that filled Pansy's eyes, "Thank you," Pansy told him genuinely, "I appreciate it."

The stranger nodded in Pansy's direction and looked back into Daphne's eyes. His eyes were so blue that Daphne was convinced in that moment she could swim in them. That's how she knew she was very drunk.

Before Daphne could say anything back to the kind stranger, Pansy led her away and out of the pub. As Daphne sat in the backseat, she closed her eyes and saw his face flash through her mind. Before she passed out, she remembered whispering his name to herself. Charlie.

The next morning, Daphne woke up very hungover and very embarrassed. She had drunkenly told a stranger all her problems and only knew his first name was Charlie. She had become that bitch.

Her friends were all asleep in her flat's spare room as she walked into her kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She rubbed her temples as someone knocked on the door. At first, she was convinced it was just her head pounding.

When Daphne opened her front door, she couldn't believe her eyes. It was him. It was Charlie from the bar, and he was even more beautiful than she had remembered. She studied his face so closely that she didn't even realize what he had in his hand.

"Your wallet fell out of your purse by the table we were at last night," he explained, "So I figured I would deliver it back to you, since your ID gave me your address and all."

Daphne realized then that she had just woken up and probably looked like death. She tried to flatten her frizzy hair as she took her wallet from him.

"Thanks."

They stood awkwardly in the doorway for a few minutes until he said, "By the way, your secrets are safe with me."

She swallowed and looked down at the ground, "That's nice of you," she said, "But it isn't like you know anyone in my life anyway."

"Actually-"

Her head shot up then to look at him again. It was then she realized he had to be at least five years older than her. She had a thing for older guys, and he apparently knew her. She was sure she was going to puke then, and not from her hangover.

"I'm Charlie Weasley," he explained, "Ron Weasley's older brother. He was in your graduating class. Which means I recognized Pansy last night, since she is married to Harry, even though I wasn't able to make it to their wedding, and I know all about the Slytherin Estates. I even know of your sister."

Daphne closed her eyes and gripped the doorframe. She was sure she was going to pass out.

"Are-are you okay?" Charlie asked, "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, I just thought you should know or maybe you even recognized me by my appearance-"

Now that he did say something, he looked an awful lot like a Weasley. She was surprised Pansy wouldn't have even made the connection last night, but she hadn't had the chance to talk to her yet and clearly Pansy had other things to take care of at the time. The Weasleys were always shunned by everyone at the Slytherin Estates and still were to this day. She remembered how much she made fun of Ron in high school. She always hated that side of herself; the side that she created to try and earn her parent's love.

"I will be fine," she finally answered him, "I'm just a little surprised is all."

"I was too once I saw Pansy. I was going to say something, but something stopped me in the moment."

A few awkward seconds went by as they stood there in silence, but Daphne finally spoke up, "Well then, thank you for bringing my wallet back." She waved it in the air, "And uh, thanks for keeping my secrets."

She was about to shut the door in his face like a complete bitch, but he gently grabbed her wrist and stopped her from doing so. Her wrist tingled in response to his touch.

"Wait," he said quietly, "I just want you to know that if you ever need anyone to talk to-"

"Why?" She asked defensively, "I'm not a charity case."

"I know," he told her steadily, "But there is just something about you. I want to make sure you are okay."

When Charlie realized he was still gently holding her wrist, he let it drop carefully. Daphne watched as his cheeks burned with redness and as he tried to collect himself.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "It was stupid of me to even say anything. I just wanted you to know that you are special too, that is all. I was drawn to you immediately at the pub and-"

Daphne stopped his nervous ramblings by grabbing his wrist softly. She opened her door wider and asked him, "Would you like to come in?"

Charlie looked surprised, but he didn't reject her offer. He nodded his head and followed her inside her flat.

As she turned around to shut her front door, she realized then that this could be the beginning of something real. She could finally be herself.