#I think they should get to burn london down. as a treat <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ancientrimer]

off to cause the great fire of london (1666) next 👍

[finelinevogue]

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

[writeforfandoms]

How Did You Love 3

Find my masterlist and series masterlist

Here we are at chapter 3, and we still don’t have more answers. But we will! I promise. You also get a few hints here as to what’s going on, and some foreshadowing and stuff. Y’know. As a treat. 

Also of note: the little village described is supposed to be Holly Village, Highgate, London.

Remember. I want your input on this. I have this chapter and the next mostly written, and I’ve got plans, but y’all are helping me out here! Tell me what you want to see, who you want to see more of! Ask your burning questions! And eventually you will get answers. 

You think, and process, and get some help. 

Warnings: Swearing, panic, anxiety, grief, Mystery, being overwhelmed, crying. 

Word count: 2.2k

f!reader

You woke disoriented, alarmed, and panting. Your dreams had been… weird. You had dreamed of a vault full of gems and gold and jewelry, and a strange planet with floating dust mites or pollen or something, and the sunrise over a snow-capped mountain range. None of those were things you had ever seen before in your life. 

You were also, to your dismay but not surprise, much less calm this morning. You were… complicated. Tangled. Grief still clogged your throat, and anger warmed your blood, and something like embarrassment or humiliation or something tingled in your fingers. Then there were unfamiliar nervous butterflies - you were with six undeniably attractive men, after all. One would have been unusual, so six was downright… something. Alarming maybe. 

So you were just a complicated, tangled up knot. And the longer you sat in bed, the more reality seeped in around the edges. 

What were you going to do about work? How long would you all be here? How on earth were you supposed to decide on a guy to… do whatever with? Start a family, whatever that meant. 

You sighed and put your face down in your hands. Too many questions, not enough answers. 

And how the hell were you supposed to talk to six complete strangers?

You groaned and got out of bed. Well. You needed to eat at some point, and you should probably just… get some sunlight or whatever. So you rolled yourself out of bed and got dressed. 

A more thorough investigation of the kitchen showed plenty of ingredients, and you threw something together to eat. Your thoughts were still swirling and racing, taunting you. How were you supposed to be an attractive option for any of these men? 

You really, honestly had no idea how any of this was going to end even decently, let alone well. 

After eating and cleaning up, you wandered outside. It was a clear day, cool and quiet. Well. Relatively quiet. You were still in London, so there was still the typical assortment of traffic noises and such, but they were muted. Quieter. You kind of wondered if that was just the location, or if Nova had done something to this place. 

Then you had to pause and breathe for a few moments, entirely overwhelmed yet again. You had no idea how you were going to survive this. You really didn't. 

You started walking. Not so much to find the others, or even find out where they were. You just… needed to do something, get rid of some of the tension. So you walked. 

After a few minutes you heard voices, so you just… turned and walked the other way. Nope. You were not ready to deal with people yet. Nope. Not happening. 

So, of course, you'd only gone a few yards when you bumped into one of them, stumbling to an ungraceful halt. 

"You okay?" 

You blinked the world back into focus and looked at who you'd bumped into. Marcus. He looked a little concerned, his hands out near your elbows, ready to catch you. That little detail, that little kindness, made tears well in your eyes. You looked away quickly, not wanting him to see.

"Fine," you muttered thickly. "I'm gonna…" you took a step back, intending to go around him or retreat back to the house you were using, or something. 

But your heel caught on an uneven patch of ground and you stumbled. Again. This time you might have even fallen, except that Marcus grabbed you. 

And something inside you cracked. You weren't sure what did it: the human contact on top of your topsy turvy emotions, or the simple kindness, or just the extreme feeling of being off kilter and unsettled. But the first tear streaked down your cheek, warm and fat. More were quick to follow. 

Marcus looked startled, then sympathetic. "C'mere," he murmured, using his grip on you to reel you in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you just enough to be comforting without restricting you. Actually, you felt very safe there, especially after he encouraged you to put your head down against his shoulder and just "let it all out". 

You couldn't have said how long you stood there and cried into his shoulder, just overwhelmed with everything, but it wasn't very long. You pulled back a little, freeing one hand from its death grip on his shirt to wipe your eyes. 

"Better?" Marcus asked you with a little smile.

"I think so." You sniffled and managed a watery smile. "Thank you. I promise I don't normally break down into tears on people."

Marcus chuckled quietly. "It's fine," he dismissed. "I'm not surprised, considering yesterday."

"You must have had quite the shock yesterday too," you pointed out.

He shrugged. "I'm dealing with it," he admitted. "I'm okay though, I promise."

You nodded. You trusted that he wasn't lying, at least. Maybe it was his voice or his openness or how easily he'd comforted you. But you trusted that much about him. 

"Do you have any plans for today?" He asked, apparently guessing that you wanted to move on from the embarrassing crying incident. 

"Not really. Kind of hard to make plans, y'know?" You smiled wryly and wiped your cheeks again. "I still have so many questions. I should probably make a list of them."

Marcus chuckled. "Maybe take it easy for today," he suggested gently. "Stay hydrated. We could find a movie to watch if you're interested, or we can talk. I'm happy to do whatever you'd like to do today." His smile was warm and easy. And still you trusted it. 

“That would work better if I knew what I wanted to do.” You chuckled, a little wry. 

“Alright. How about I make a couple suggestions?” At your nod, Marcus continued, “We can go have a cup of coffee, or pick something to watch.”

You tilted your head, just a little, as you observed him. Kind, open face. Relaxed shoulders. Hands loose at his sides now. He seemed pretty sincere. So you smiled a little and said, “Let’s start with coffee.” 

His answering smile was pleased, and he nodded. “I’m staying in this one,” he told you, nodding behind you to one of the houses. “Jack’s next door. I saw him earlier.” 

You shrugged. “I’m, uh, not sure how much company I can take right now.”

Marcus nodded, opening the door to the house before motioning you inside. You took a quick look around - very similar setup to your place. Slightly different color scheme. Not bad. 

Marcus stepped past you to fill the kettle with water, and you hid a smile. You hadn’t really investigated your own coffee situation this morning, too rattled. But apparently old school was in for coffee making. “How much longer do you have of your actual vacation?”

You had to think for a moment. “A week. I was supposed to leave London tomorrow to go to the Cotswolds for the last few days of my trip. As some quiet time.” You blinked and looked away. There were other reasons to visit the Cotswolds too, but you weren’t quite ready to tell Marcus all that. Or deal with the grief you knew would come with.

Marcus seemed to sense he was on thinning ice, and backed off. “So you’ve got a week to figure out some questions for Nova,” he said instead, neatly sidestepping that potential landmine. “I’ve got pens and a couple notepads in here, if you wanted to brainstorm some questions.”

“That is… actually a very kind idea. Thank you.” You smiled at him, feeling some of the tension leak from your shoulders. You felt a little less alone in all of this, which was quite honestly a relief. 

The kettle started to whistle, and Marcus pulled it off, pouring the hot water over the coffee grinds. “There’s milk in the fridge if you want some,” he offered, lifting his gaze briefly to look at you before refocusing on the coffee. 

For a few minutes, the two of you sat in companionable quiet, after you’d each fixed your coffee how you liked it. The quiet was nice, and the company was nice. You could feel your nerves settling the longer you sat, relaxing enough to be nearly normal again. 

“Where’s the notepad?” you asked, setting your mug down. 

“I’ll grab it, I’ll just be a moment.” Marcus set his mug down with a gentle chink and walked off into the next room over. You took the time he was gone to look around more carefully, but there wasn’t much sign of personality here yet. Too soon, you knew. You’d also guess that if you came back in a week or so, you’d see more signs of life here. But that was just your guess. 

“Here.” Marcus set the notepad and a couple pens next to your elbow, and you startled. “Sorry.” He looked a little concerned, his gaze searching yours.

You smiled self-deprecatingly. “Guess I’m still a bit off-kilter,” you murmured, taking one of the pens and pulling the notepad close. Your first question was simple: How long will we be here? “I know Nova said not to go far, but how far do you think that means?” 

Marcus shrugged. “You can ask,” he suggested. “Or wait and see if someone else tries it. It wouldn’t surprise me if Fox tests those limits. Or Ezra.” 

You paused, tipping your head to look at him. “Why those two in particular?”

“Just a feeling.” Marcus shrugged again, though he didn’t meet your gaze. Whatever was on his mind, apparently he didn’t want to give it voice. So you accepted that and moved on. 

“I haven’t tested this theory but the food seems to be self-stocking. I mean, my kitchen came fully stocked. So I’m guessing we won’t have to worry about groceries. Which is good because frankly I don’t think I want to pay for groceries for seven people for some undetermined amount of time. Oh, wait, speaking of the lot of you, do you have anything… else? Anything else to wear? I mean, not to pry, but I can’t imagine it would be comfortable to wear those same clothes all the time, and–” 

Marcus cut your rambling off with a chuckle. “I found some of my things in the dresser this morning,” he answered. “So long as there’s no sudden snowstorm, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

You nodded. "Okay. That's one thing, at least." You took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself again. 

"What else do you need?" Marcus asked, leaning forward a bit. "Don't worry about us, or the basics. What do you need to know? What do you need to be more comfortable here?"

You paused, considering the questions. Nova had given you some information, after all, but you definitely didn't know everything yet. Some of it you were fairly certain you'd have to discover on your own - how you were supposed to choose, what exactly you'd do for however long you all were staying. 

"What do I need," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "I need answers. About work. And why me? Why now? Why here, and not at home?" You shook your head, lifting one hand to rub your forehead. 

"Why not you?" Marcus asked gently. "Nova mentioned that you lost people."

Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed hard. You nodded in lieu of a verbal response. 

Marcus reached out and gently took hold of your hand. His hand was big and warm, holding yours gently. "Obviously it's too soon to know much for certain," he murmured, ducking his head a little to catch your gaze. "But I do know that you should have people around you who care." 

You blinked rapidly and nodded, unable to actually say anything. Fortunately, Marcus seemed content to leave it there, as he squeezed your hand and changed the subject. 

"What were you doing on this vacation? Where did you visit?"

It was with some relief that you told him about your vacation - where you had gone so far, what had been the highlights, what you'd bought. Marcus was a good listener, attentive without making you feel pressured. If you had to guess, you’d say he did something that required people skills. 

The day passed faster than you anticipated. Marcus was good company, pretty even-keeled, quick to smile and quick to comfort. Honestly, you already felt comfortable with him. 

There was a knock on the wall, and you and Marcus both turned to look. Ezra stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a smirk. 

“I do hate to interrupt,” he drawled, glancing between the two of you before his gaze settled on you. “But it is getting near time for dinner, and the rest of us apparently are of the same mind that group dinners are far more satisfying than dining alone. Some of us are even benefiting further by not having to cook for ourselves.” He winked. 

“Guess it’s dinner time,” you said, amused despite yourself, glancing at Marcus. He nodded, though he looked pensive. He stood anyway and offered you a hand up, which you took. Ezra’s gaze flicked to your hands and then back to your face. And he smiled. 

You had a feeling dinner was going to be very interesting tonight.

--

Taglist (let me know if you want on or off, I know this might not be everyone’s cuppa tea): @saradika​ @fandom-blackhole​ @shoopidly​ @pedrocentric​ @beskarprincessjenny​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @liviiii98 @adriiibell​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @sunnydunnydays @princessxkenobi​ @thirddeadlysin​ @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira​ @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks​ @withakindheartx​ @linkpk88​ @janebby​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @evyiione​ @ohheyitsokay​ @amneris21​ @recklessworry​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kotemorons​ @myguiltypleasures21​ @javierpinme​ @grogusmum​ @eri16​ @idreamofboobear​ @pintsizemama​ @pedrostories​ @stevie75​ @luxmundee​ @kirsteng42​ @alexxavicry​ @elegantduckturtle​ @bruxasolta​ @pjkimrn​ @jaime1110​ @trash-dino-5000​ @theanothersherlockian​ @mandalwhorean​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @lowlights​

[teacup-tai]

Tai recs: a *HP rare pair* list

So, I decided to do a Rarepairs rec list with some of my favourite miscelaneous pairings. I hope you enjoy it and discover new horizons. lol Be responsible and mind the tags. There's no order in the list, sorry.

Your Left Life - orphan - 28k, E - Seamus/Dean

Dean can see himself doing it, pushing the duvet to the bottom of the bed and rolling over, feeling the warm line of Seamus’ body beside him, kissing him. He knows he’s going to eventually, he can hear the start of it in his head. You fought in a war, this should be nothing.

Electric Light - orphan - 18k, E - Neville/Draco, Neville/Draco/Harry

His gloves are from last year and the left one has a small tear in the charmed leather that he has to keep out of sight of Professor Sprout, who would go into a whole lecture on health and safety if she saw it, and then insist he wore a pair from the lost and found bucket in the corner of her mouldy old office.

Burned Silk, Buckled Leather - @ruinsplume - 12k, E - Sirius/Draco

When Sirius discovers a down-and-out Draco Malfoy lurking around the edges of a Muggle kink club, he thinks he knows just what Draco needs. He isn't expecting to run into some long-buried needs of his own.

The Meaning of Mistletoe - @llendrinall - 30k, M - Severus/Remus

“Just… tell me. Tell me what is going on, Snape.” What was going on was that Severus Snape had no trouble tracking down one Petunia Evans, now Dursley, to a little town in Surrey where he saw how exactly she was treating her nephew. Which somehow led to last night and Severus knocking on Lupin’s door with a toddler half-asleep in his arms.

Make Me Smile (come up and see me) - by busaikko -26k, E - Severus/Remus/Sirius

AU. In the aftermath of October 31st, 1981, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black try to set their differences aside to keep Harry safe.

Modern Romance - @olivieblake - 280k, E - multiship brilliance

Witch Weekly's 'Modern Romance' series asks anonymous witches and wizards to record a week in their sex lives—with comic, tragic, provocative, and patently revealing results. Each week, a new episode unfolds in the lives of the Wizarding World's elite.

Don't Stop Me Now (A Tragedy in Three Acts) - @writcraft - 6k, E - Sirius/James

Being gay in the seventies isn't easy, coming out is hard to do and love is complicated, messy and unexpected. When Sirius Black comes out to James Potter it serves to fuel the embers of a fire that's been burning between them for years.

How We Were Warriors - @writcraft - 51k, E - Severus/Harry

A homophobic attack in London’s Soho brings Harry to New York City to discover more about the past. Still haunted by love and loss in the eighties, Severus just wants to forget. In Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, past and present collide, and in one another Severus and Harry find hope for the future.

Aim for My Heart - @tackytigerfic - 3k, M - Ron/Harry/Draco

Harry's in love, Ron's in control, and Draco just wants a nice lunch. They say three's a crowd, but Harry doesn't always agree. Not when he gets to be in the middle, anyway. - In which Harry's in love with Ron, and Harry's in love with Draco, but they're not in love with each other. Not yet, anyway.

The Taste of Țuică - @fluxweeed - 14k, E - Ron/Harry/Draco

It’s quite one thing for your best mate to casually tell you about all the sex his boyfriend wants to have. It’s altogether another to have him bring up the time you snogged him in a shitty Central London park.

Misfortune's Bitter Storms - @onbeinganangel - 5k, E - Bill/Fleur/Tonks

A ginger, a Metamorphmagus and a Veela walk into a room... (they fuck, that’s the punchline)

Petrichor, Pineapple and Pomegranate - @onbeinganangel - 6k, E - Sirius/Remus/James

If you’re not using your enhanced werewolf sense of smell to find out that your friends have got the hots for you, what are you even doing?

Talk To Me - by amaliaIR - 21k, E - Sirius/Remus/James

James' love life hasn't been going well lately, so he turns to his best friends for advice and receives so much more.

The Secretary - @pacific-rimbaud - 45k, E - Percy/Pansy

Threatened with the loss of her trust fund allowance, wild child Pansy Parkinson takes her mother up on an offer she can't refuse: a job at the Ministry of Magic as personal secretary to tightly wound bureaucrat Percy Weasley. The job is demanding, and so is her boss, in ways that Pansy never could have imagined. When their mutual desires begin to spin out of control, how will Pansy convince her boss that sometimes, the only rules you need to follow are your own?

A Dress With Pockets - @pacific-rimbaud - 24k, E - Neville/Pansy

Pansy Parkinson needed a drink. And a shag. She didn't care in which order. Enter: Neville fucking Longbottom and his rolled up sleeves.

---you may realise E is my thing, so again: mind the tags!---

And that's a wrap! I'm saving the femslash ones for another day ^^ Hope you enjoy the readings, darlings! Love, Tai <3

[comfortwriting]

Best Friends Brother Part 4 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Part 4 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ - please read part 1, 2, 3

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of food, eating, and blood.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of food, eating, and blood. 

Fred waited outside the owlery whilst Ron looked for you, hoping to find you with Gideon to calm his nerves, but also hoping to catch you with George to prove his suspicions so he could finally stop living on the edge all the time.

"Well?" Asked Fred, staring at his younger brother who walked out of the owlery.

Ron shook his head with an annoyed expression on his face "She's not there" he replied.

"Is her owl?"

Ron nodded, following his brother down the steps "yeah, yet she told me she was going to spend some time with him."

"Strange isn't it?" Fred muttered, "how she's always away and nowhere to be found at the same time as George."

Ron went quiet, he hated this - hated the thought of you being swept off your feet by someone better, someone everyone preferred over him, even if he was your best friend, he knew his older brother better than anyone.

"I wish you had that map, you know, you should nick it from him when he's sleeping."

"I would" replied Fred "but he clutches to it when he sleeps."

"Hogsmeade.." Ron said deep in thought "they could be in Hogsmeade!"

Running out of the town and back to Hogwarts, you ducked your head, praying that you wouldn't be recognised through the storms of other students and villagers. You needed to get to the owlery, to be with Gideon like you lied about, you couldn't get caught, not now.

George sprinted towards Zonko's, also making sure that he wouldn't get spotted, he quickly sneaked inside the joke shop through the backdoor, browsing the nose-biting teacups.

"Well, where is he then?" Ron's voice asked in the background.

George swallowed hard and pretended to be focused on the teacups, ignoring his brothers inching closer and closer towards him.

Fred patted his twin on the shoulder "What you doing here then?" he asked "You can't keep skipping Quidditch practice, I'm getting into bother."

George jumped out of his skin at Fred's touch, he turned around to look at him "Sorry for skipping, I've been Christmas shopping" he lied "Only time I can come here, it's why I've got the map." 

Fred and Ron exchanged looks before staring back at George, both of them still unsure, Ron more than Fred as deep down, he believed and hoped that his own twin wouldn't lie to him, especially to his face.

"All right then" Fred replied, staring back at the teapots.

"Have you uh, have you seen Y/N?" Ron asked, "Went to the owlery this morning, but she wasn't there."

George's mouth and throat went dry, he swallowed hard again, desperate for water. "I haven't, no, if I do I'll tell her you're looking for her."

Ron pursed his lips and nodded "I guess we'll leave you to your Christmas shopping then."

Ron and Fred left Zonko's, leaving George with a dreadful and heavy heap of guilt, sinking into his stomach. George sighed and walked to a quieter part of the shop, examining the map, his two brothers going for a drink without him.

George finally got the courage to leave Zonko's and go into Honey Dukes, making sure to pick out everything Ron and Fred loved most in hopes that this could buy their acceptance and trust as Christmas break hung over his head.  

Hurrying up the short, steep, steps - fighting to catch your breath, you stormed into the owlery, the many owls staring at you whilst Gideon turned his head, blinking at you sweetly. Your forehead produced droplets of sweat and you were desperate for a glass of water, your backpack weighing heavily on your shoulders, full of letters and parcels for your family and friends. 

You hunched over with your hands on your thighs, panting, Gideon started to shuffle impatiently. You lifted up your right hand and stretched out your index finger whilst the rest remained in a loose fist.

"One moment, Gideon." You breathed, your heart finally calming down.

Stretching and walking over to your owl, you lifted him into your arms and found a clear stop on the owlery floor to sit down, surrounded by small animal carcasses, feathers, and droppings.

You stroked Gideon's face and back gently with the back of your hand "Penny never allowed me to give her so much affection like this" you reminisced "I'm so happy you let me" you pecked the top of Gideon's head softly, standing up slowly and walking out, ready to see if Gideon could fly as well as Penny once did.

"Something doesn't add up" Ron huffed "Christmas shopping? since when were you left out of that?"

Fred stared at his shoes, walking towards the castle, his tummy still warm from the butterbeer. "I want to believe him, I don't think he'd lie to my face."

Ron shook his head "Well, we'll soon find out" he grumbled, "because mum insisted that she's coming to ours for Christmas, it's why I've been looking for her."

"But she usually comes over for Christmas, doesn't she?" Fred asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Ron nodded "Yeah, but I didn't ask this time, so either mum is encouraging me to invite her, or someone else has asked."

Giggling, you watched Gideon soar around in the sky, feeling more than confident that he would be able to deliver your letters and packages without any issues, flying down and perching on your arm, you gave him a treat and stroked his head. 

"I've wondered where you've been." Ron called out behind you "Where were you this morning?"

"I've been with Gideon" you replied quickly, still focusing on stroking his soft feathers. 

"Not this morning you weren't" Ron argued, walking towards you and standing by your side. 

You sighed and turned to face him, feeling frustrated "I've been wrapping up presents, okay?" you huffed. 

Ron raised his eyebrows, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle in his head "Were you out shopping with George by any chance?"

Shit. He's on to me. He saw me leave Hogsmeade. 

No. No. He can't know, not now, no way!

"Oh come off it!" you acted, crossing your arms, causing Gideon to leap up and perch on your shoulder "I did my shopping weeks ago - alone!"

Ron swallowed your lies down his throat, the actual truth slowly dissolving in his mind. He nodded his head and pursed his lips "Sorry"

You nodded, feeling slightly guilty about lying to him "It's okay, just... just trust me, yeah? you're my best mate."

Ron wrapped his arm around you, starting to feel more confident and secure with there being no chance in his head of you and George dating "You're my best mate too."

As the snow continued to fall and surround Hogwarts, you, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George got on board the Hogwarts Express and made your way back to London. You could feel the butterflies flapping their wings inside of you, soaring as Gideon did in the sky days before the end of term. 

You and George were so excited to be able to spend more time together, without hundreds of students watching or overhearing, but the risk of being together under his roof and surrounded by his family was too high - but you didn't care, because if anything, in your mind - you weren't going to get caught, you would be careful, as secretive as can be. 

Hurling your trunk and presents into the warm and cozy burrow, Mrs Weasley engulfed you into a comforting hug "It is so lovely to see you again, dear!" She smiled, cupping your face in her gentle hands "You and Hermione will be staying with Ginny in her room, it's very spacious!" 

One of your butterflies lost a wing, starting to fall deep down into your tummy, you didn't want to share a room if it meant that you would be spending most of your time with the little sister of your boyfriend, and your best friends nosy and opinionated crush. 

"But don't panic dear, you don't have to go to bed when they do, you can stay up as long as you like! Oh, Harry!" Mrs Weasley pulled herself away from you and hurried over to Harry. 

Looking behind over your shoulder, George rested against the kitchen counter, turning his head and nodding in the direction of the living room, you knew what this meant and the injured butterfly in the pit of your stomach slowly recovered. Smiling, you nodded back, confirming the meeting, and quickly picked up your trunk and bags, following Ginny and Hermione.

Without having a minute to breathe, you were called down for dinner, all of you huddled around the dinner table surrounded by mouthwatering dishes you had missed so dearly. Mr and Mrs Weasley used this time for a much-needed catch-up, mainly Mrs Weasley scolding Fred, George, and even Ron for misbehaving ("but not you Harry, dear!") whilst Mr Weasley bombarded Hermione with questions about her parents being dentists and expressing how fascinating inspecting peoples teeth seemed. 

George kept flashing you looks across the table, smiling, then smirking, eyeing you up, causing you to go red in the face and struggle to contain your giggles. Part of you wanted to entertain him, pull faces back, blow a sneaky kiss or wink, but Hermione had already noticed George making faces, and you enjoying it.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, putting down her bags and sitting on her bed starting to unpack, Ginny copied, listening in. 

You placed the presents under your bed, opening your trunk you pulled out your pajamas. "I'm lost? What?" you replied, unpacking everything you needed out, placing your folded clothes inside the huge dresser. 

"The way George kept looking at you throughout dinner," Hermione said, the look of patience wearing thin splashed across her face. 

Ginny stopped unpacking and turned around, staring at you. 

"He wasn't looking at me." You replied, pulling off your knitted jumper. 

"Yes, he was!" Hermione insisted.

"It's nothing, Hermione, I spilled gravy down my top and I got embarrassed-"

"Can we not argue?" Ginny interrupted "I'm sure George was just smiling over nothing."

You nodded, Hermione pulled a face and got out her toothbrush "well, I'm exhausted, I'm getting ready for bed and I'll be calling it a night."

Ginny sat on her bed, yawning and stretching "Me too, I'm up early tomorrow, mum needs me to help her with choosing what's for Chrismas Dinner."

Hermione got changed and brushed her teeth in the bathroom whilst Ginny stood outside the door, waiting to go in, having the bedroom all to yourself, you quickly got changed into your pajamas and got into bed, shutting your eyes and practicing deep breathing, pretending to be asleep. 

Ginny and Hermione both entered the bedroom quietly and got into their beds, discussing what time they would be up in the morning and whispering goodnight, you waited until the two of them fell asleep when you could hear their snores you slowly got out of bed and left the bedroom, slowly walking down the many stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walking into the living room, George smiled up at you, the dim light highlighting his golden hair and deep brown eyes, he patted the space next to him, your heart pounding even more. Sitting down next to him, you leaned into him, swinging your legs on the sofa and resting your head against his chest, his arms sneaking around you and pulling you into him. 

"I've been waiting for this for so long" George mumbled quietly, nuzzling into your hair. 

Your cheeks began to heat up, you had never been this close to him before, not ever, the closest was holding hands a kiss - and now the two of you were cuddling underneath a warm blanket, so close that you could hear and feel his heart beating, his scent surrounding you, and his touch making you feel safe and secure. 

"Me too," you said softly "I'm so glad we're away from the constant noise, large crowds, and watching eyes." 

George smiled, kissing your head softly "It's nice just being able to exist with you, like this, away from everyone and everything, even if it's this late in the evening." 

"We'll need to be careful" you reminded him "Hermione saw what happened at dinner and she brought it up in front of Ginny. Ron has been paranoid too, especially after what happened a few days ago."

George nodded, leaving soft kisses on your head, his hands stroking your waist "Fred's suspicious too, I had to give him the map, the way he was looking at me - it's hard lying to him, Y/N."

Pulling George's hand up to your mouth, you pressed your lips against his hand and kissed it softly, George smiled, pecking your head with another soft kiss. 

"It's hard" you sighed "but we won't have to hide this forever, the right time will come."

George freed one of his hands and reached for the family photo album on the table in front of him, placing it in front of you to hold. 

"Just spending the late evening with you for the next two weeks is enough for me." He sat up, pulling you closer. 

Holding onto the photo album you opened it, expecting to see pictures but you were met with nothing but empty spaces. 

"I've bought this for us," George said softly "I want us to fill this with pictures, we need to make up for the three months we've been together with no photographs to show for it."

You felt your heart enlarge and flush your body with warm blood, your veins pumping it throughout your body, getting high on the feeling of this happiness - this love.

"Oh, George..."

Hearing a door opening and footsteps up above, creaking down the stairs, your face and George's dropped.

"Hide!" He mouthed, snatching the photo album from you.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @carisi-sonny

[blouisparadise]

are any fics from "hl winter fic exchange" bl?

This is an older fic exchange, but we tried to go through them all. Enjoy!

1) You Are The Miracle I Need | General Audiences | 3885 words

So there he is: Louis Tomlinson. Sixteen years old. Pregnant. Alone. Bare chested in front of the mirror, waiting for a miracle that could put his life back together, because he certainly couldn't.

2) You Could Have Knocked Me Out With A Feather | Not Rated | 4701 words

"Well, love," Louis says slowly, reaching out his hand and placing it on Harry’s thigh. "Seems like you’ve proper missed me, then."

3) Crush Your Love, Let It Burn Until I Get To You | Teen & Up | 7979 words

It's Christmas time. Louis is in Doncaster  and Harry is in London. Somewhere in between, there's a snowstorm.

4) I'll Taste The Sky And Feel Alive Again | Mature | 14762 words

There have been countless Most Important Moments in Louis’ lifetime (seeing Harry for the first time in line for the X Factor, meeting him in the bathroom, One Direction being formed, kissing Harry for the first time, fucking Harry for the first time, proposing to Harry for the first time, proposing to Harry for the last time, marrying Harry), but he thinks this might be the most important moment of all; the moment when it stops being just LouisandHarry and begins being LouisandHarryandAbigail.

The moment Louis finally finds his family.

5) Dreams Can't Take The Place Of Loving You  | Explicit | 15496 words

Harry’s watching Louis as he stands on a ladder, paint covering his arms and dripping down his legs a bit, when it occurs to him just how bare Louis’ fingers look. He knows exactly what should go there, too, but the thought of doing so sets his nerves spinning.

6) (Quiet Like A Fight) Fingers Laced Together | Mature | 17479 words

Note: This fic doesn’t have anything more than oral sex in it, but any mentions of sex are BL and it’s a great fic, so we’re including it.

It’s a thin hope, frail and as thin as the silver strands of a spider web, desperate in the way Louis keeps clinging onto it even when he’s already expecting and preparing for the worst. Maybe one day, he’ll have a home, a place where he can feel safe and sound, tucked away safely from the world that has the tendency to treat him horribly and then even worse, that maybe there will be someone in his life who cares for him, even if in the smallest of ways, and does not just use him for whatever they tend to need at the moment.

7) I Put A Spell On You  | Explicit | 17525 words

A BBC/Secret Santa mashup featuring Captain Niall, our intrepid weatherman/amateur matchmaker, rather clueless sports reporter Liam, charming political analyst Zayn, and cheeky entertainment reporter Louis. Harry is the new fashion correspondent who prefers to dress like a flamingo. And pining. There’s a lot of pining.

8) Someone Who Makes You Feel The Most | Explicit | 19528 words

He's seven the first time he sees it.

9) All The Lights Are Full Of Colour | Explicit | 26727 words

Harry and Louis are separated, but for the sake of their two sons, they choose to spend Christmas together. It may just lead to a Christmas miracle.

10) Night Changes | Mature | 29743 words

"Louis pushed his hands against the fabric of his pockets.

“You look like an adorable kangaroo.” Harry tried to stifle his giggle in his scarf, but Louis had seen his nose crinkle, and he knew that Harry found immense pleasure in moments like this.

“Do I now, Harold? You don’t look much better yourself.”

Harry tugged his scarf back underneath his chin and grinned. All of his teeth and every dimple and every crinkle were on display. “Thank you, Louis. I appreciate these kind words.”

“You’re welcome.”

If only he could just punch through the fabric of his coat and touch Harry’s stomach. If only he could, because he would; he didn't care for his stupid coat. Niall would surely lend him one of his until he could afford a new one, and if not, then he at least had Harry to keep him warm."

11) I Can See The Truth, Now That I Found You | Explicit | 34797 words

When Harry first saw Louis, Harry was a 24 year old happily married man with a 1 year old son, and Louis was a young, energetic 18 year old who might have fancied the dad he saw at work.

Three years later, Harry may not have been a happily married man, but Louis definitely fancied the dad he saw at work.

12) I’ll Come Around If You Ever Want To Be In Love | Teen & Up | 39309 words

Louis is a film student, Harry is a musician, and shooting a music video doesn't help on the path of trying not to fall in love.

13) We've Got The World In Our Hands  | Explicit | 54964 words

A mutants/superpowers AU. Louis and his friends attend the Cowell Institute for General Education and Mutant Training in London; when Louis meets Harry, the newest student at the Cowell Institute, he immediately recruits Harry to help play matchmaker for his friend Zayn. Harry and Louis are so caught up in meddling in Zayn's love life, though, that they don't notice that their own friendship is progressing into something more. Meanwhile, an ominous threat up north grows slowly until suddenly, no mutant - or human - is safe.

- BLP 🍑

[rosesnink]

Grand WIP Wednesday

Hello thurr! Since tomorrow I’ll be MIA to Mérida, I may as well leave you WIPs I’ve been working nonstop. As a treat. ASo you don’t forget about me ;) 

The Cursed Heiress: CH12, 13, 14 & The Damned Daughter 

Chapter 12: Against The Clock 

Nya scoffed “I can’t believe that wretched human just annulled the marriage! He was perfect for you both! But I guess humans are too weak to compromise. I had the immortality ritual ready for him! Pah, human men are utterly worthless at the end of the day. Why did we agree on—,”

“Stop it, sister! This wasn’t Vincent’s doing. It was his small-minded father, Rupert Foredale. Vincent would never let me go if it depended on him, but humans were too foolish to give such a weak sex all the powers in the world.”

“And you couldn’t stop him?” Nene asked.

“No. It was too risky.”

“And is he aware of your condition?”

“My pregnancy or my powers?”

“Both.”

“He is aware that I am an immortal witch… but he doesn’t know that I am with child. And it should be like this. He didn’t have the guts to fight for me. He is not deserving of her.”

“How are you so sure it’s a girl? The men demand a boy.”

“There are many things that not even the most powerful magic can do. You should know that, Nya. You’re one century older than me.”

Chapter 13 In The Name of Love 

“I hear Miss Parsons has been filling her mind with politics! How dreadfully scandalous for a lady!”

Joanna adopted Duke Richards’s exaggerated high tenor voice “Indeed, my lady! Women ought to be stupid, meek and obedient to do my bidding! Oh, I can hardly stand the image! Excuse me, ladies, but such scandal requires me to go back to Wankerland, where I am King of Pathetic! Excuse moi!” And levelled her thigh up, as if hinting to show off his friend and marched through the door and pretended to slam, “Oh, my! I am such a big wanker that I cannot fit in the door! Guess I’ll get drunk by fantasies that will never become true, such as a lady enduring my endless talking about me until I am too drunk to even think!” She sat on the floor and jumped, “Oh, I forgot! I don’t think because I have no braincells!”

Miss Parsons was red with laughter, on the floor, barely making a noise as she laughs, clutching her stomach. Joanna crawled at her, crying of laughter, both on the floor, the painting forgotten.

“I did not know you were such a comedian, Joanna!” She said between laughter.

Chapter 14 Welcome Home 

Mr. Sinclaire was in awe with the big manor that didn’t seem to have an end. After what he’s seen, he could get lost in that manor for weeks! Joanna opened the door and showed the biggest bedroom his eyes have ever witnessed. The room was as big as his bedchambers in Bath, London and Ledford Park together. There was a fountain in a wall, a big chandelier with loads of books, the roof was arched and with painting of the Greek Gods, the walls were white, navy blue and golden, the bed was held up high, stairs in it, the floor was made of wood on one half and on the other, white marble like the Acropolis, a wall full of flowers: Forget Me Not, roses, lilies… The room had a magical essence, words could not describe it.

“Well?” Joanna asked “Do you like it?”

“You have a beautiful room, Your Highness.”

“I like it better when you call me My Lady…” She smirked.

He looked at her and he flushed pink.

She smiled at him, her face glowing with so much magic inside of her, she seemed to thrive. Her dress was beautiful: it was white, with a big V on her chest and a soft, transparent silk that revealed her curves and her hair was let down, ginger curls kissing her sides. Mr. Sinclaire’s pulse quickened, his hands itching to touch her skin, but he contained himself. He cleared his throat and saw a desk with many liquors. He served himself one and drank the witchy liquor, a soft, burning caress going down his throat.

“You know how to decorate a room… my lady.”

The Damned Daughter, Part 3: Wide Awake 

Odessa loved her daughter more than anything. She’d kill for her. Destroy for her. Ruin anything for her wellbeing. As she cooed happily, she mulled over what would happen to her: she was high in Dracarian society, which meant really vicious snakes would come to her. The thought of that worried her. Many assassinations attempts were made towards her, but she wouldn’t let them. She’d gladly give herself than let them touch her little girl. At least, in here they wouldn’t know who was she, and how much the world would change because of it.

At least not yet.

Plan B, Chapter 3: Untitled 

She smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat. She looked divine tonight, he thought. He wanted to thank the moron who dumped her for bringing her to him tonight. He drank the entire cup and looked at Samantha. She cleared her throat as she looked at her phone, full of notifications “Oh, goodness! It’s late! I should really—,”

He did not notice what he did until he looked at it himself. Midway getting up, he had grabbed her arm gently “Don’t,” he said, without thinking, “please, stay.”

Her eyes went wide and inhaled sharply “Do you… mean what I think you mean?”

He caressed her cheek. Then her jawline. He traced her lips with his thumb and could feel her shuddering under his touch. He felt powerful, with the upper hand. Something told him he wanted this woman. His hand slipped to her neck, then to her hip, bringing her close to him “Stay. Worry about going home in the morning.” He thought to himself in that moment, that he only needed to close the small gap between them and their lips would lock. She took a deep, ragged breath, and pondered on what to do until she looked at his eyes, begging her to stay.

Untitled Collab with @missameliep 

The call ended and Liz looked at Hayley genuinely curious “What was that?”

“What do you think it was?”

Liz chuckled “He just asked you on a date! The very same Ernest Sinclaire!”

Hayley snorted “You surprised he didn’t fume or glared at me through the screen? Or the fact that being grumpy and stoic isn’t his only personality trait and he can be actually nice to be with?”

“The second one.”

Hayley chuckled as she turned around “Ernest at first is a kind of gremlin, but once you get to know him and are patient with him and respect his times, he’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. Ever since a preteen, he has saved me from creeps when I wasn’t able to do so and has always been there. And yes, we like each other, but I’m taking my sweet time with him. Normally I’d bone him and break his heart, but something tells me that he is… different. Special. Worth the shot.”

The Viscountess: Unkown and untitled chapter 

She took a glance towards Ernest, who was talking to Isabelle, probably giving her instructions about the gala etiquette and what she should avoid to do in front of grown-ups. He adverted her gaze and gave her a smile and she smiled back. When he noticed her dress, his eyes went wide. It wasn’t her first choice either, but Briar insisted that with that lethal weapon, he wouldn’t be able to take his hands off her.

Everyone started to ask for dates for the first dance. Some young heiresses were fighting over who’d dance with the man of the hour: her father, who even at his age and still not over the love of his life, her mother, Mary, brought attention of women who were seeking a good marriage to get rid of poverty. Nicole shook her head as she felt a familiar tall figure staring at her. She spun around to smile at Ernest “Hey.”

“Nicole. I was wondering if you could, uh… dance with me?”

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations​ 

[rigmarolling]

Top 5 Things That Will Kill You In the Victorian Era

If you’ve ever spent more than two seconds with me, you know that I live and breathe the fog-choked air of Victorian London. All day. Every day of my life. 

See, in many ways, the Victorians were the first version of us--overwhelmed by rapidly-changing technology (and its awful effect on the climate); dealing with incredible wealth gaps; grappling with rising crime and faster travel and out-of-control media and the whole, “God is dead, oh no” thing. 

Also, everything was trying to kill you.

Like, literally almost everything.

From your clothes to your doctor to your canned food, here are the top five things that will kill you in the Victorian era.

5. Other Victorians

If the rise of penny dreadfuls (cheap magazines stuffed with horror stories for us morbidly-inclined goth types) was any indication, Victorians loved them some true crime. 

And there was no shortage of subject matter to choose from: depending on where you ventured in London, at least, you could be subject to anything from pickpocketing to mugging to violent assault and, of course, murder. 

There were a few reasons for this:

For one thing, the population in London alone increased by millions in the 19th century, and approximately no one was prepared for that. So, to accommodate the rapidly-booming population, the wealthy folks in charge reached out and lovingly ensured the masses of the disenfranchised poor were taken care of by redistributing resources and education and access to opportunities that improved lives on a both a personal and social level.

Lol, no, I’m totally kidding; they shoved them into slums and tenement buildings and pretended they didn’t exist.

So of course, there was a rise in crime, because if you have five kids and you can’t find gainful employment and your family will starve if you don’t steal that basket of food over there, or that purse that lady left sitting over THERE, what are you going to do? You’re going to steal the food and the purse to survive, Jean Valjean, I understand, I do.

Except the powers that be did NOT understand, and instead routinely espoused the idea that if people were poor, it was because they were morally bankrupt, or inherently bad, somehow, and the “criminal classes,” as they came to be known by the growing Victorian middle and upper-middle classes, were simply considered genetically bad to the bone and therefore undeserving of assistance.

Basically:

So ANYWAY.

Crime was on the rise and there were multiple efforts to stop it with varying degrees of success, but big city usually = big crime, especially when there’s a massive gap between the one percent-ers and THE REST OF US, WASHINGTON.

Ahem.

All that crime? The booming news industry loved it. The press ate it up and then spit it back out in salacious headlines that never even bothered with journalistic objectivity, like this gem:

I mean. Full disclosure: I, too, agree that cutting off a woman’s head, arms, and legs and then burning them is “awful, inhuman, & barbarous” but just...maybe...maybe tone it down? Just a bit?

No? Okay.

See, here’s the thing: crime sells. It always has. And papers went nuts with full illustrated spreads about the latest brutal murders so you could sit in your parlor and get anxiety poops thinking about how the butcher down the street looked at you funny the other day and oh, God, you’re probably next, oh God.

The most famous murderer of the era, was, of course, Jack the Ripper, which was just the orchestral climax of a hideously corrupted society that had bubbled into naught but a festering carbuncle, an ulcer upon the very soul of man, trussed up as a city of industry, but which is merely Salome, dancing with the Lamb’s head upon a platter and sending us all tumbling into a fiery pit.

....Ahem, again.

Some popular ways your fellow Victorians could kill you included: dueling (with swords but usually with revolvers), stabbing, garroting, and, probably the most popular method of the era, poisoning.

Speaking of which...

4. Anything dyed that hip shade of green

In 1775, a guy named Carl Wilhelm Scheele invented a new shade of green, cleverly called Scheele’s green, and it instantly became a hit. Pretty soon, manufacturers and tailors were dyeing everything this color. 

Look at it. Bright, airy. Calls to mind a fresh, spring meadow. (What’s that, you ask? Well, before the Industrial Revolution belched out black smoke onto absolutely everything, there were these things called plants and grass and they were all over the place and you could frolic through them and it was very nice for your serotonin levels.)

I mean, listen, this isn’t really my color because anything vaguely yellow-ish makes my already yellow-ish skin look especially jaundiced, but it’s a lovely shade:

Besides using it to create beautiful dresses and tasteful waistcoats, they used it inside book covers:

And it was a super popular wallpaper color:

They had green candles and green cups and green kitchenwares and green paint.

But while Carl Wilhelm Scheele didn’t exactly murder anyone (even though he has three names like every serial killer ever), he sort of, accidentally, indirectly, kinda...did.

Because that springy dye contained every Victorian black widow’s favorite method to dispose of a troublesome husband: arsenic.

Scheele, of course, had no idea--no one did--so I’m fully exonerating him here, but the poison nonetheless started to take its toll.

Reports began to surface of kids getting sicker and sicker and then dying in their green wallpapered rooms; of fashionable ladies rocking those green dresses at balls and then ALSO getting sicker and sicker and breaking out in horrible sores before dying. 

They even used this stuff to dye food green, so of course, anybody who tucked into Victorian green eggs and ham also, you know. Died.

And if they DIDN’T die, they got cancer, because if arsenic doesn’t kill you, it will give you cancer. And then kill you.

Eventually, as science advanced and went, “HEYO, there’s literal poison in this stuff,” consumers were like, “Well, shoot, this summer’s hottest beach shade just killed an entire boarding school,” and Scheele’s green finally fell out of favor.

It was, however, used as a pesticide up through the 1930s, so...way to use the...leftovers? I guess?

3. Your canned food

Hey, now that we’re on the topic of deadly chemicals being where they absolutely should not be, let’s talk about canned food. 

In the Victorian era, it was the new Hot Thing (next to arsenic green). You mean I can can my food now? Like? Forever? Oh, only for a few months. Okay, cool. Still cool. 

Above: Road trip snax.

Food preservation methods had existed long before canned meats and veggies and soups, but canned everything really started to gain traction around the middle of the 19th century, and people were stoked. Remember, the population exploded; people needed new methods of obtaining cheap food that didn’t spoil immediately. So: cans to the rescue! 

Recycling hadn’t really been invented, though, so today, archaeologists constantly find giant Victorian trash pits filled with empty cans.

You know what also hadn’t been invented? Consumer health and safety boards.

So guess what was in the tin cans themselves? 

No, no, don’t worry, it wasn’t arsenic.

It was lead.

Which, in case you weren’t aware, is also very, very bad for you.

So bad, in fact, that today, scientists are pretty sure lead-lined tins of canned food were partially responsible for the deaths on the disastrous Franklin Expedition, an ultimately futile trip to discover the Northwest Passage lead by Sir John Franklin in 1845. Every single man on board the two ships stranded in the Arctic died, and in the 1980s, when scientists discovered perfectly mummified bodies (GRAPHIC, if you don’t like that sort of thing, but awesome if you do) of some of the sailors, one of the mummies contained insane amounts of lead. They later tested the cans found scattered across the wreck site and whoops, they also contained insane amounts of lead.

Above: Some of the tin cans from the Franklin Expedition, which contained items like salted beef, vegetables, tea, lethal amounts of lead, and Chicken of the Sea.

Granted, other factors contributed to the Franklin deaths, like, you know, being stranded in the Arctic and starving to death, and also tuberculosis, but lead-lined canned food certainly didn’t help things along.

2. Your doctor

Here’s my advice if you’re in the Victorian era and you’re starting to feel sick: do not get sick. Just don’t. Because then that means you’ll have to go to the doctor. Which probably means you will die.

Hospitals in the 19th century were deadly. Often even more deadly than just staying at home, according to Dr. Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art. Nobody knew how to treat anything, really, because medical understanding of biology was in its infancy and antibiotics didn’t exist yet, so you were absolutely, definitely going to get some kind of infection the second you stepped foot in a Victorian hospital.

Above: The surgery, where nobody has any idea what they are doing, ever.

Doctors weren’t trying to kill you on purpose--they just didn’t know any better. And it super duper didn’t help that common treatments for everything from the common cold to tuberculosis included taking mercury (which kills you) and blood-letting, (which can also kill you) the tools for which are shown below:

Those might look like fun doodads for your astronomy class at Hogwarts, but they’re actually vials and a really, really sharp needle that pricks you until you bleed out a critically dangerous amount of blood into those vials. 

The (ancient) school of thought behind blood-letting was that draining patients of “bad” blood would rebalance their “humours” and get rid of the icky thing that was making them sick. We might laugh at it now, but if you don’t know any better, logically, it makes sense.

Medically, oh my God, it’s the worst.

So if Doc didn’t bleed you to death, he might try surgery--done without anesthesia or antibiotics (until good old Dr. Lister came along--read The Butchering Art!), and then ship you and your amputated stump leg off to the hospital ward where, instead of healing, you’d get wheeled through hallways stained with every bodily fluid imaginable into rooms filled with people coughing up every bodily fluid imaginable, some of which would get into your leg stump, infect it, and then kill you dead.

“But what about medicine?” you ask. “Can’t I just take medicine?”

Sure! Just be aware that it definitely contains morphine and probably contains cocaine, or mercury, or arsenic, or sulfur, or pulverized bits of ancient Egyptian mummies (I am not kidding. True, the latter had started to fall out of favor in the 19th century, but, like. Stop).

Above: Hard drugs, but just for you.

You think I’m joking?

Above: PARTY TIME.

Sometimes, a doctor would just advise that you move to a “more temperate climate” like Rome or Spain if you were feeling chronically ill, which might help you get a tan and COULD help if you had sucky lungs, but eventually, you’d just die anyway, because what you really needed was a strong antibiotic or antiviral medication and the closest you were gonna get was Mrs. Hopplebopple’s Temperance Tonic, which was probably filled with ground up baby bones and just so much heroin.

And don’t even get me started on Victorian surgical tools:

Open wide.

1. Water

There are three rules in this life: don’t watch any Adam Sandler movies except for maybe Anger Management, don’t eat the yellow snow, and do not, ever, for any reason, ever drink water in Victorian England.

That’s because it was about as clean as a Victorian hospital. 

Meaning it wasn’t. At all.

Victorian water--of the Thames variety--contained:

Cholera, one of the deadliest killers of the era and bad water’s favorite roommate.

Poop, human and otherwise, because a functioning sewer system? I don’t know her. (At least, not until the 1860s.)

Pee, human and otherwise, because nothing says, “Jolly Old England” like an open trench of piss rolling through the city.

Dead things, like animals, fish (which are animals, so why am I listing them as a separate thing?), and, occasionally, humans.

Chemicals, which spewed forth from the great factories in billowing, bubbling, belching rivers of sludge. (Ha! Omg, yes, I was an English major!)

The Thames was so filthy that Londoners called it “Monster Soup.”

Above: Same.

In 1855, scientist Michael Faraday (who was also kind of hot; tell me I’m wrong), wrote a letter to the Times about the disgusting state of the river:

"Near the bridges the feculence rolled up in clouds so dense that they were visible at the surface, even in water of this kind. ... The smell was very bad, and common to the whole of the water; it was the same as that which now comes up from the gully-holes in the streets; the whole river was for the time a real sewer."

Tl;dr: “It smelled like ass.”

In fact, it got so bad, so putrid, so horrifically clogged with every disgusting thing your mind and your butthole can possibly conjure up, that it lead to one of my favorite things to read about in the world: The Great Stink of 1858.

Yes, that’s the real name. I did not make that up. History is incredible.

Above: Summer vacation, 1858.

The summer of 1858 was miserably hot in London. And the Thames was miserably clogged with poop, and pee, and chemicals, and dead things, and, uh oh, cholera. During July and August that year, the smell wafting from the river was so offensive that Parliament was actually adjourned because everybody kept throwing up. Cholera devastated the city. The water was killing London.

Faced with either the prospect of living with a city-wide vomit-and-diarrhea smell for the rest of forever OR finally cleaning things up, the government actually did something right and chose the latter. They contracted civil engineer Joseph Bazalgette to overhaul the city’s sewer, to which Bazalgette, pinching his nose, responded, “FINALLY.” 

Above: Joesph Bazalgette, savior of the London sewers and purveyor of a truly beautiful mustache.

Bazalgette proceeded to build the London sewer system still in use today. His efforts greatly reduced the number of cholera deaths, cleared the Thames of its Cronenberg-esque muck, and ensured that poop goes where it’s supposed to: way the hell out of HERE and way the hell under THERE.

Water sanitation still had a long way to go, though, which meant you either had to boil your water to kill the bacteria in it, or you could just drink alcohol instead, which was the safer option but which would also leave you very dehydrated and also, if imbibed excessively, would leave you very dead.

So really, you were doomed in some way no matter what you did, and if that isn’t the moral of the entire Victorian story, then I don’t know what is.

[period-dramallama]

Spanish Princess Episode 5: many many thoughts

Strap yo selves in 

-WHERE WAS THE APOLOGY?? Lina’s just back with Catherine like nothing happened?? 

-Katherine, I get why you’re upset, but you kind of should be unsurprised?? Your dad was unfaithful to his wife, most kings were. Henry VII and Richard III were the exceptions, and even they had illegitimate sons before their marriages. Many kings also had official mistresses that everyone knew about, so by the standards of the time Henry and Bessie are actually being pretty tactful in at least trying to keep their affair out of sight. (Sexy dancing aside). 

-Honestly it would have been so much more moving if KoA was like “I know kings take mistresses...but I thought...I was so sure... he would be different...”

-”they gave me a purse of gold!” It’s expected that you give the monarch lavish presents, lmao Ursula and Stafford would do that even if they hated each other and you

-”everybody loves a masque” the only sensible thing Henry has said so far in this show. Also court probably had way more masques than we see in the show, and it would standard to have a masque every holiday. 

-”she is not a boy” hurry up with your character development and learn to love Mary already i am so TIRED of this miserable BS

-seems a rather depopulated masque? If the Chateau Vert pageant is anything to go by putting on a masque was a court activity, with most of the ladies performing.  

-Bessie Blount in her cute masque costume... sweet mother i cannot weave Aphrodite has overcome me with GAAAAAAAAAAAAY

-”I never enjoyed carousing...my mother scolded me” look i love the Neville sisters with my whole heart but a) Margaret was 3 at most when her mother died, how does she remember her? She’d have clearer memories of her double-uncle and double-aunt, Richard III and Queen Anne b) Isabel Neville in the White Queen was established as very prim and proper, a well-bred girl who cared about enforcing decorum, she refused to ‘carouse’ and she certainly would never bring a 3 year old to a party c) we saw little Margaret as a girl at the end of the White Queen and she didn’t seem at all shy. 

-”she died young, didn’t she” ...yes? most people did?

-”they both did” understatement of the year. Isabel Neville died young because she was ill, George died young (in the universe of The White Queen, at least) BECAUSE HE WAS FORCEFULLY DROWNED IN A VAT OF MALMSEY WINE. THESE TWO THINGS ARE NOT THE SAME! I do at least trust the writers of this show that the understatement was intentional, I’m sure even Emma Frost couldn’t forget a major character getting violently drowned.

-So the court only noticed the plague when one of their own got it so obviously and then died? Yes, plague could move fast, but if there was a whiff of plague the court would flee with the speed of the Looney Tunes road runner. If an acquaintance of an acquaintance of a cook had a cousin who saw someone with the plague, the court would flee to the country. How have these people not died of terminal stupid?! Like Compton was in the same building as the heir to the throne

-To be fair, it makes sense that they’re surprised Compton’s dead. Because the real Compton died of the sweating sickness. In 1528. Also he was involved in Buckingham’s downfall so... you just wrote yourself into a corner.

-Oh wow an actual good reason for More and Pole to be quarantined together i am amaaaaaazed

-”attend the queen” Boleyn, what do you think your daughter’s been doing all season if not attending the queen? Playing tetris?

-Katherine helping Anne into the wagon...I actually like that little moment. Like it does make sense, because the two have no reason to hate each other yet. (And who couldn’t like Anne? She’s such a babby!)

-Thomas More in the Tudor equivalent of casual clothes... much better. Shame about the 1930s lady’s wig.

-”what else should we do?” Maggie, this cannot be the first epidemic you’ve ever lived through. Have you forgotten the sweating sickness of 1485? You’ve probably lived through more epidemics than Oviedo has, you should know the protocol better than him.

-Oviedo continues to be the only man with rights. I wish we could see him crying and missing his wife and babies, but then my lil heart would break so maybe it’s for the best.

-They burn Maggie’s weird blue hood AS THEY SHOULD! IT WAS UGLY AND STUPID! I NEVER HAVE TO LOOK AT IT AGAIN NOW! THANK YOU SO MUCH! yes they also burned her nice dress with the strawberries on it but honestly it’s worth it, bc now i can rest easy, knowing the evil hood has been defeated.

-”you were a plaything” Katherine is so obviously insecure. I’m getting second-hand embarrassment. Like if she really was certain Bessie wasn’t important, she wouldn’t need to say it, would she? Except to rub it in. Which this KOA would absolutely do. 

-literally all Bessie said was good morning?? Like Bessie is doing her best?? The masque was Henry’s idea, not hers, she hasn’t shown off about her affair, she hasn’t demanded money or titles, she hasn’t demanded any status to rival Katherine’s, she doesn’t flirt with or even speak to Henry when Katherine’s around, she acts like they’re strangers, she doesn’t even react when Katherine loses her temper...someone please please stick up for Bessie!

-”the rocking of the cart is unsettling to the stomach” is Anne naive, or is she covering for Bessie? I hope it’s the latter, in which case Anne is the one person looking out for Bessie...the babby is Soft, I repeat the babby is Soft!

-the irony of Mary being cold to Bessie when she’s next in the firing line...

-”it is not the rocking” Thank you Lina, where would we be without your gift for stating the obvious?

-”where did Wolsey get his money”...He’s a churchman...at the top of the church hierarchy...how do you fuckin think he got wealthy. Have y’all not been in the sixteenth century for five minutes? Why do you think Luther is so mad at the church?

-”I know of no other man in her bed most nights” Honestly wow I’m surprised KoA wasn’t like “well :/ a girl like that :/ who knows how many men process in and out of her bed :/” KoA gets half a point for being less bitchy than usual. Also Bessie looked so uncomfortable with Henry groping her stomach in front of Katherine. I pray the next man in her life treats her right and that Fraham don’t prematurely kill her off like they did with Compton.  

-”the future king” if you’re regent on his behalf, then he’s already king! “Civilised companionship” back at it again with the Scots-are-barbarians.

-Laura Carmichael is utterly stunning this episode, with her hair down. The cinematography was beautiful in general this week.

-”freedom to speak and licence to speak are two different things” hey look at that one of Thomas More’s actual beliefs. I am giving all the credit to the historical advisor for that, I don’t believe for one second Fraham knew that beforehand.

-Maggie I love you but no, God does not sanction adultery. For any reason. 

-KOA smirking and gloating about Bessie’s pain...she has never been so punchable. I would understand, if not condone it, if Bessie was manipulative, or greedy, or ambitious, or trying to supplant Katherine. But Bessie’s been betrayed by Henry too, and there’s no concrete evidence she ever gloated about her affair, to anyone let alone Katherine.  

-”You think only of your own fate while London is struck down with plague” Earth to Katherine?? What concern have you shown for the Londoners?? Also calling Bessie selfish...Bessie’s not the one who lashed out at Lina, was jealous at Lina for having twin boys, and who wanted to continue a war for personal reasons. And then Bessie proves KoA wrong 5 hot seconds later by sticking up for Mary. Bit rich of KoA to be all “how dare you leave my daughter unattended” when she herself won’t even hold Mary. 

-”Louis didn’t last a year” What! Is! The Timeline!

-Meg in that cloak reminds me of the Scottish Widow adverts. Georgie is so greedy- she steals every single scene she is in! Even when she’s raging she has more dignity and more presence than KoA ever has.

-”YOU LYING SOD” i burst out laughing it’s really not the little two-timing shit’s day, is it?

-Mary receiving Charlie B in the most Extra way possible. A++

-Why does Wolsey look like he’s about to cry?

-”thoughts are not actions” Lina I love you but... that is NOT what the New Testament says. Jesus said evil thoughts are very very much sins. I’ll give you a pass because maybe you haven’t been Catholic as long as Katherine has? Idk your backstory.

-Aaand now she’s wishing death on Bessie and her unborn baby and Lina isn’t disgusted? At least Katherine is feeling guilty. AS SHE SHOULD.

-”must it always fall to me to be magnanimous?” Katherine, you think only of yourself, for 23 out of every 24 hours. 

-”God wants me to be compassionate to Bessie because of my sins” God wants you to be compassionate because that’s how Christianity is supposed to work. It’s not very selfless of you to decide to be selfless so that you can get what you want. 

-oh wow look at that! She’s getting some self-awareness, i never saw that coming.

-”you betrayed Bessie” 5 points to Katherine of Aragon for standing up for Bessie when Henry screwed her over. Finally, some positive character development.

- MINUS 20000 POINTS FOR BABY STEALING

-WHAT THE FUCK

-is henry so dumb he thinks that baby is Katherine’s? Katherine was so obviously not pregnant

-When a baby’s born his skin needs to touch his mother’s skin so they can bond. They should have at least an hour’s cuddle time. Katherine of Aragon is literally traumatising a baby the very minute he is born. For her own selfish, selfish desires. 

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Honey Trap (3/?)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: While I'd hoped to keep up the updates every week, RL is not cooperating. I'm still going to update as often as I can, and the story's not abandoned. Just going to be a little slower than expected. This chapter is a direct continuation from the last.

~*~

Peggy was aghast.

She’d made a loop around the commissary, stopped at the supply tent, chatted with a nurse, all the while very carefully being very, very obvious that she’d been following Steve as he moved about camp. And she was absolutely not careful when she slipped into his tent in full view of half a platoon ten minutes ago.

Peggy sat next to him on his cot, quiet. Steve couldn’t help but fidget, turning the compass over and over in his hands. “I guess it’ll…”

“They’re morons, all of them.” Peggy said loudly and suddenly. She turned to Steve, eyes bright. “I never would have pegged them for that, but goodness. The lot of them!”

“What do you mean?” Steve pocketed the compass, turning to her.

“Well, had I known how easy it would be to slip into your tent without anyone raising the alarm I certainly would have done it before this.” She laughed and turned to him, playing with the collar of his shirt. “And I certainly would have done it quite often.”

A blush crept up his cheeks as his hands fluttered around her hips. “Peg, we shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?” She refused to be chastised and leaned forward to kiss him quickly. “In a matter of days, I’ll be back in London and you’ll be god knows where and we’re going to have to pretend this is all real. Who knows when we’re likely to see one another again?” She kissed him again, softer this time, and his hands wrapped firm around her. “Besides, if those lunks out there are stupid enough to miss me walking in here with you—”

“Maybe they’re smart enough to keep their mouths shut,” Steve rebutted as he gave in and kissed down her neck.

“In either event,” she lifted his face to look in his eyes again, “we should be smart enough to take advantage.”

~*~

It was Bucky, surprisingly, that was waiting for her when she emerged from Steve’s tent. He stepped out from the space between the canvas two tents down and fell into step with her, eyes dark and hands in his pockets.

She and Steve hadn’t actually talked about what he might tell his best friend, because in theory he couldn’t tell anyone anything. Neither of them could. She kept moving, Barnes keeping pace with her, until she’d managed a loop of almost the entire base without shaking her silent shadow. Finally, she walked out past the mess, stopping only when they were afforded at least some privacy.

“Well?” She finally asked, eyeing him and crossing her arms smartly.

Bucky shuffled his feet then looked up at her, face tight. “What kinda game are you playing?”

“Game?” she asked, incredulous. If anyone should have known just how real their feeling were, it should have been Bucky.

He shook his head and looked away. “The idiot’s head over heels for ya. You have to know that.” He looked at the ground and huffed a heavy sigh. He was caught between anger and disappointment when he looked back up at her. “You start breaking regs, he’s gonna follow right behind and one of you is gonna get hurt. Or worse: court martialed.”

Peggy started to reply, but he held his hand up. “Nah- I don’t… I don’t want to hear it. I’m happy for him. For you. And if this was any other place or time, I’d be shoving the two of you together like ya wouldn’t believe.” He shook his head sadly. “We’ll cover for you two as long as we can, but you know just as well as I do that Phillips and the rest of those higher ups can only turn a blind eye for so long.”

Bucky leaned down, as he started to move away. “Please don’t mess with him, Peg. You might be strong enough for it, but he’s still that 98-pound dumb struck kid inside that shell.”

All the bravado she’d felt at sneaking into Steve’s tent left her as Bucky walked away. Her stomach sank, heavy with the thought that Steve had the very real potential to be hurt in all this. Being undercover was never easy, especially when it meant faking relationships or allegiances, but Steve would be very aware of her playing house with another man, of her pledging her loyalty to the very organization he was laying his life on the line to fight.

She knew, when this was all over, she was going to have to mend some fences with some friends she would have to deceive, the Howlies high on that list. She just hadn’t considered, until this moment, that she might have to fight to regain Steve’s trust, as well.

She’d never even thought until now that she might lose it.

~*~

The idea that she’d be hurting Steve kept her up all night, tossing and turning in her bed. She thought about getting up, slipping out and sliding into his tent under the cover of darkness, but Bucky’s words, his face, were caught on a loop in her brain.

Being caught would fuel the fire. But up until now they’d been very careful about their relationship, about finding very private moments to share a kiss or an embrace. Steve had fairly romantic, if somewhat conservative, views about how she should be treated before they could be even publicly dating, and she’d done her best to respect that.

She’d never wanted to hurt him.

Steve seemed so strong. So confident. Even when she first met him, there was a strength to him that transcended his small body.

Somehow, she always imagined he’d end up hurting her. She dreamt of him walking away, one of the showgirls from the USO on his arm, or leaving because she wanted a career and not to be home taking care of kids. She had nightmares of him laughing at the end of the war, walking away with gaggles of fans under each arm once he realized he could have his pick of the bunch as Captain America. Peggy heard the words of other men come out of his mouth in her darkest moments, men from her past that called her names she didn’t like to repeat in polite company.

Somehow, she always imagined she’d be the one left behind when he realized all the doors his transformation would open up to him.

Peggy waited until sun up and slipped out to the mess, eating but not tasting her ration before she went to find him. She caught him just as he was leaving his tent, and with the tip of her head, he followed her.

“Morning…” he started cautiously, seeing how wound up she was. “Newsreel guys will be here any minute, so—"

She cut him off. “I didn’t sleep at all last night and it was Barnes’ fault.”

Steve watched the nervous energy pour from her in the way her fingers kept fidgeting at her sides, the way her breath came just a little faster. He shook his head and huffed a frustrated sigh. “What did he say?”

She thought about lying, turning right around, and not having this conversation. She shook her head, stepping just a little closer to whisper. “He made me realize how hard this is going to be on you.”

“Peg—”

“No,” she stopped his interruption, taking his hand. “You’re going to have to see me lie, you’re going to see me pretend to love another man and pretend to fight for an ideology that would have the world burn around us.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she held his hand tight. “I know it won’t be easy for me,” she finally looked up at him, “but until yesterday I hadn’t thought about how it might be for you.”

She stepped closer, taking both hands and framing his face gently, looking deep into his eyes. He held her gaze, never wavering, as she spoke. “I need you to know I love you. I love you, my darling, and no matter what I say, or what I have to do out there, or how long we’re apart, that will not change.” She took a slow, deep breath. “I don’t expect it should be easy when it’s all said and done, but…”

He smiled as she stuttered and wrapped his hands around her cheeks, eyes bright. “I love you, too, Peg.” He smirked when the anxiety left her and relief flooded her body at his words. “I know it’s going to be hard, being apart, but that won’t change for me, either. We’re going to make it through all of this, somehow. And I’ll see you soon. As soon as I can, first chance they’ll let me, ok?”

He leaned down, kissing her gently, and though Peggy felt a lot better, she still felt the tiny stirrings of fear and guilt. “Somehow,” she whispered.

~*~

He held her hand tight as they stepped through the low brush, moving to the tiny outcropping of trees they’d claimed as their own since they’d been at this base as the sun set low.

It was ridiculously easy to get the compass in front of the cameras. The newsreel team, knowing they had a great piece of gossip on their hands, made an effort to keep Phillips as preoccupied as possible when that little bit of footage came up, making it easy for Phillips to “miss” it as he approved the footage.

Meanwhile, Steve and Peggy snuck in as many moments alone together as they could in the last few days, knowing indulging would help their case in the long run. Peggy never mentioned to Steve that it helped soothe her fear that when all of this was over, she’ll have lost him.

Steve leaned back against a large pine, pulling her into his arms. “How long do you think we have?”

“Sixteen minutes before the next patrol,” Peggy answered as she kissed him, fingers running through his hair, “give or take.”

“I meant,” he lifted her from her feet with a smile and let her wrap her legs around his hips as he turned, pressing her back up against the tree, “how long do you think we have before they transfer you?”

Peggy hummed as he started kissing across her collar bone. “A day, maybe two at the most. I think they start showing it tonight in London.”

“I still don’t like this,” he muttered, pausing his kisses and nuzzling into her neck. “The idea of you out there, with Hydra…”

Peggy pressed him back. “I’ll have you know I was fighting Hydra long before you came along—”

“I know.”

“—and I can take care of myself.”

He was chastised, but looked at her earnestly. “You’re right. I’m being—”

“Chauvinistic?” She quirked her eyebrow at him and shook her head. “Overprotective? Pigheaded?” She shook her head, sighing as her temper softened. “It’s all dangerous, Steve.”

He moved a hand to cup her cheek, drawing his thumb up over her cheek. “I still have a way with words, huh?”

She smiled at that. “You still talk to me about as well as you did that day in the car.” She pecked a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Lucky you, I find that endearing.”

He returned the gesture. “Lucky me, indeed.”

“Come along, then,” Peggy gave a gentle tug to his head, angling him back to her neck. “We’ve got to make the most of what we have left, and I estimate we’re down to fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

~*~

“This is it.” Phillips was calm, just the way he always was before he sent his troops into battle. Peggy found it reassuring and frightening at the same time. “If you have any doubts, I need to hear them right now.”

Peggy looked at Steve, his blue eyes pleading for her to call it, for her to stop this whole thing. But she knew he understood, just as she did, that despite the risks, there could be a greater reward.

“No doubts.” She stood tall, shoulders back. She knew this was going to hurt, no matter how fake it was.

“Son?” Phillips looked at Steve, eyes just as steeled.

“None, sir.” Steve shook his head and handed over his compass.

The speed with which Phillips changed gears and started yelling startled them both. They all knew it had to be a show, and had to be believable, but Steve was unprepared for the way Phillips let fly, and for how loud he was.

The Colonel, as ever, had known what he was doing. Within seconds, Steve could see little eyes and ears at the edges of the tent where the flaps didn’t quite close, hoping to get just a snippet or two of what the man was saying.

Peggy bit her lip, listening as Phillips let loose words and accusations he’d never used with her, but had always been quick to the lips of other men around female officers.

Neither was ready for the way Phillips took the compass and threw it like a fast ball out of the tent and into the mud.

“What, Carter?” he asked harshly, his voice still booming. “You gonna cry now?”

Her lip quivered. She wanted to. And she could see standing as close to him as she was, that in his eyes, Phillips regretted everything he was saying. “No.”

“No, what?” He let loose.

“No, sir!” She fairly yelled back, a tear slipping from her eye.

At that he winced. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and pressed on. “And you, Rogers.”

Steve said nothing, just swallowed heavily.

“I never expected anything out of you in the first place. How nice of you to not disappoint.” Steve hung his head, the words cutting deep. “Latrines. Now. You’re digging and cleaning them until you hear otherwise from me, got that?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve parroted back, his voice loud but broken.

“Just because you look good in tights doesn’t mean you’re worth more than shit around here.” Phillips shook his head, lips pressed tight. “And you.”

“Latrines as well, sir?” Peggy asked, trying to sure up her voice the best she could.

“You think I’m a damn fool who was born yesterday?” He shook his head, hands on his hips, the steam rolling out of him. “Go pack your things. You’re on a transport in one hour. Because you’re a lady you get a nice, cushy, office job back in London. I’m sure the typing pool will benefit greatly.”

Phillips’ head fell, he couldn’t look at either of them. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He bellowed. “Go!”

Steve pretended not to see the men scurry away from the tent as he exited. He couldn’t help but look at Peggy as she followed him out. Her eyes were full of tears he knew she would try desperately to keep from falling.

Peggy stopped, crouching in the mud to pick up his compass. She pulled out a handkerchief from her back pocket, cleaning it the best she could before she handed it to him, avoiding his eyes and using the cleaning an excuse to get her emotions back under control.

Steve stuttered, unsure of what to say. Phillips had cut them both to the quick, even if it was for show. “You, uh… you want help with your trunks?”

“I can manage,” she whispered, eyes still on the handkerchief in her hands.

Steve shoved the compass in his pocket, looking around. The men who had been listening at the tent had scattered and they were, by all appearances, alone. Not that it mattered anymore. For better or worse, for real or for cover story, they were no longer a secret. “Peg,” he pleaded, taking her hands in his, “look at me.”

She huffed out a breath and looked up. “Harder than I thought.” She nodded quickly. “I’ve... I have to…” She tilted her head towards her tent. “Soon,” she whispered, leaning into him. “Somehow.”

“Somehow,” he parroted back. He wanted to kiss her, but knew he couldn’t. There was just one piece left of the puzzle. He took a deep breath. “Hard as you can, ok?” His whisper was as quiet as he could make it. “Don’t hold back.”

Peggy steeled herself, taking short deep breaths. She pushed away, hurt that was real for the both of them written plainly across her face. “This is all your fault, Steve Rogers!” With a cry she wound up and slapped him, hard, across the jaw.

Steve cradled his cheek as she turned, stomping away.

He hated that this was going to be his last memory of her for a long time. He just kept telling himself that he’d see her soon. Soon.

Bucky stepped up next to him, slinging his arm around his shoulder. “What the hell happened, Steve?”

Steve just shook his head. “Hell if I know.”

“Come on,” Bucky turned him around. “We can go get some wax or something to stick in your nose so that super soldier sniffer of yours doesn’t lay you out in the latrines while you tell me all about it.”

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Part 3

Enjoy @kriskukko​ and @punkhorse96​ 

Blood For Gold

Part 3

Wednesday morning came all too soon. Out of everyone in the Morrigan family, you and Jane were closest, since you were only older than her by a mere five years, she only 17 and you, only 23, but she was incredibly sweet and kind and you insisted that Jane also get a new dress or two for the occasion. 

“This was supposed to be all about you Audra.” Jane gently argued from her spot in the next dressing room in the back of the shop. 

“Who says I can’t share my limelight- at least a little. I would much prefer to see you married off and matched with someone who would treat you like the treasure you are, than myself.” You told her as you peeled your first and frankly hideous dress off your frame. 

“But not for another two years at least, I do not think I’m ready yet.” She meekly replied. 

“Then that is what you should hold to. Do not marry until you are ready, too much disaster can happen when you are not.” You advised. 

“But I don’t think you can last that long.” She murmured quietly. 

“We shall see,” You answered her with a heavy sigh. 

“I was mistaken for you when I came back from Kent.” You informed her nonchalantly. 

“By who?” She asked. 

“Duke Voyambi and Count Jabire.” You answered. 

“But I do not know them personally. I know of them, but not them.” Jane frowned. 

“But what do you know of them?” You asked curiously. 

“The Count only recently became a Count, I believe that title has only been in his family for less than three generations, it was given to them when their grain storehouses were full enough to go through the mill and make enough flour to get the whole of London through a hard winter after a bad drought of the summer, but otherwise it’s a humble family and according to Father, they are nowhere good enough for a Morrigan.” She murmured quietly. 

“And Voyambi?” You asked. 

“Oh, he’s a purist, he’s for union, which Father says is foolish, he’s very involved in making sure all orcs get better… everything, from treatment, to housing, to wages, to food and clothing. Father says he’s the only nobleman foolish enough to throw the classism that brought him so high away and in his efforts to raise all orcs up, will lower himself, but yet we still buy his soap because it’s the best quality around and to buy any other made outside the country is unpatriotic.” She repeated. 

“How did his family get the Duchy?” You asked. 

“Oh his grandfather was the king’s personal body guard and saved the king’s life repeatedly in the last war, he was made a Duke and his family has had the Duchy ever since, the soap had just been a family thing they always made for themselves that the king also enjoyed and when they received the Duchy, the king made the family the official soap makers of his realm, the Voyambi’s and Jabire’s both got their nobilities at the same time, along with the other half of the new money, a great many fortunes have been made and lost since industry has taken off. And both owe their wealth to their industries, that can come today and be gone tomorrow, their fortunes are not stable. So they are also not good enough for a Morrigan.” She answered before you both came out of the dressing rooms in the new gowns. 

“Besides, to lay with an orc is to kiss your cunny goodbye because they’ll destroy it and rip it to shreds, or so I’ve heard.” Jane whispered into your ear as you did your best to not burst from trying to contain your laughter. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Well, Mother always says that the bigger the cock, the smaller the brain too.” She continued to breathe into your ear. 

“Ah, ok. Thanks for letting me know.” You thanked her. Oh, if only she knew that it was an orc cock that finally rutted you right but just thinking about it sent a shiver down your spine. Demsey Draft’s orc cock had been just what you needed, and his mouth, and hands, and amazing body and passionate spirit. And he had smelled like that Duke’s soap too and he was remarkably clean for a male prostitute, even dressed nicely too. Well he had been a moura, all moura’s liked to keep clean at all times in all things and always dressed resplendently. 

“So what do you think of the dress Audra?” Jane asked, pulling you out of your reverie. 

“It’s beautiful.” You answered as you looked down and appraised it. It was much prettier than the last dress as you walked out into the show room to see none other than Duke Voyambi come in with a few orc women with him and your excitement at recognizing a friendly and familiar face died in your chest as Jane’s words were recalled into your mind. He would most likely only marry an orc woman, you didn’t stand a chance as you looked away just as Duke Voyambi noticed you were here and froze at the sight of you at seeing you there in a new and very fashionable dress, your gold moura marks a sharp contrast of the dark and rich burgundy magenta of your gown and especially to see them around your chest and your back, neck and shoulders and down your arms as you had been turning away from him, he was reminded of his own rutting the night before which he had tried to put out of his head and had hoped that his rutting had been the end of it, but now, all it did was fuel his own flame of desire for you to burn brighter and fiercer. 

“Countess Morrigan.” He greeted you which pulled your attention back to him before you smiled politely at him.  

“Yes Duke Voyambi?” Agnes greeted, thinking he had greeted her, curtseying in place as she plastered on a pleasant smile as you stood just a little straighter before you and Jane also curtsied respectfully to the Duke and his party who also curtsied in response as Jane came to stand closest to you as the Duke could now clearly see the difference between you and Jane, while Jane was also blonde, and fairly pretty in her own right, she was just a little plain next to you. 

“Audravienne, this is Duke Demsey Voyambi, his sisters, the Duchesses, Amara, Kiera and Callie Voyambi.” Agnes introduced as she practically dragged you over to them, her fist tight like a vice over your forearm before she let you go once you were close enough to them.   

“Your Graces, allow me the pleasure to introduce you to Sultana Audravienne Saharrazat, Divana of Kilan of Dorierra,” Agnes introduced you with quite the flourish as your eyes got wider as you looked at Jane who had come with you and was now flanking your left side as you two shared a meaningful look as your cheeks flushed and your ears burned while your moura marks flashed a rose gold for a moment as Jane stared in shock at her own mother. Normally her own mother turned her own nose up at them, but now she was practically pushing you onto them and no longer doubted her parent’s insistence that they needed to get rid of you, she thought they meant only get rid of you to who they deemed worthy, not just...anyone. 

Meanwhile the Voyambi’s were giving each other meaningful looks too as they looked you over curiously while Demsey tried to keep his composure as he realized all mouras must have marks like yours, he just never noticed. You had been stunning in black on Monday but now in brighter colors you were even more ravishing. 

“What beautiful tattoos you have Sultana,” Callie, his youngest sister praised as she noticed them. 

“They aren’t tattoos, they are my moura marks,” you gently corrected her as your marks pulsed rose gold again. 

“You’re a moura?” Callie asked, her eyes and her sister’s eyes growing wide with excitement as smiles bloomed on their faces. 

“Yes, that’s what Dorierra is- is a Moura country.” You answered, letting your moura accent become thicker than usual, since you had worked for the last two years stomping it down to try to sound more English but you could tell Agnes was going to “resell you” as pure moura, so you were sure your moura accent would probably be accepted again in this instance, instead of punished the way it usually was with the Morrigans. 

“Oh, do all mouras have marks like these?” Callie asked curiously. 

“No, most have markedly less, usually just the collar, maybe a feather or two on their backs and shoulders, I am one of the few remaining ‘true mouras’ the purer a moura’s blood, the more gold moura marks they will have, these moura marks would have been my moura cloak and wings before the Gold Death a hundred and sixty seven years ago- that wiped out the entire heavenly moura population and killed off roughly 80% of the world moura population, my family line was spared because we were mixed with human and elven races, but any purer, we would have died out too. So instead of flying the heavens, I just get to wear the reminder of what mouras used to be and what we used to have.” You answered somberly as Jane held your hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. 

“Sultana, you really shouldn’t be so dark, especially with new acquaintances,” Agnes tried to pleasantly chastise you with a forced lighter laugh. 

“Forgive me then your Graces.” You offered as you gave the Voyambis an apologetic smile as Demsey and his sisters were doing their best to remain composed as Demsey’s heart practically crushed inside of his chest as he wondered how a moura as decked out in moura marks as Audra's had been could be found in a brothel of all places. 

"Let's try some more dresses on Ladies." Agnes encouraged as she pulled you away and practically pushed you into the dressing room as she whispered some harsher criticisms to you along the way. 

"Your Graces, I really should apologize for her. She spent her whole life in Dorierra and she hasn't learned our manners and customs as well as she should have by now. But surely your Graces will forgive the Sultana's rudeness." She soothed as she came fluttering back over to them. 

"Oh she wasn't rude at all, she was just being informative. She's really very lovely." Amara reassured her. 

"Well I must say the Sultana would still make the ideal bride. She is so incredibly sweet and kind and caring." Agnes tried to praise.

"Is that the way she was with the Late Count Edward then?" Kiera inquired, doing her best to hide her suspicions from her tone so as not to openly offend the Countess. 

"Oh absolutely, she never left his side and she made sure his final years were spent in the greatest of comfort because that's what she has been bred to do- to cater to a husband and make him feel like a king or a sultan or an emperor even. No one can do better for breeding or brains or beauty than a moura. And the Late Count Edward even afforded her a dowry for her upon his death of 50 thousand pounds. She'll be the catch of the century and her mourning period ends in only twelve days, barely a week and a half from now and she'll be free and clear for the taking." Agnes informed them brightly. 

Now upon hearing that all the Voyambi's practically had their eyebrows shoot up into their hair line. 

“Don’t most people usually have to pay handsomely to the stables for a moura bride?” Kiera countered as in her own mind, red flags were being thrown all over the place.  

“Oh she just fell in love with England, she didn’t want to return.” Agnes lied as the Voyambi’s looked at each other meaningfully again but were discrete about it. 

“Yes, that’s why the Sultana is such a fantastic find!” Agnes insisted.

“Was there a reason why she didn’t return to the stables? I thought most mouras always return to the stables, especially in the case of widowhood.” Kierra probed, trying not to sound too suspicious. 

“Well then it’s a shame that the Duke is already attached to Lady Whitesale, but I’m sure you’ll find an overabundance of suitors for the Sultana.” Kiera urged firmly, even though that was in itself a white lie also but the last person she wanted the Morrigans to prey on was her brother, wolfish people as they were.  

“Oh, I didn’t realize that, forgive my interference then, I would just hate for someone who would be exceptionally worthy to miss out on such a prize as the Sultana,” Agnes offered to save face before she left to return to the dressing rooms to see how you and Jane were getting along. 

“I’ve never seen a trap so firmly set or a more falsely appetizing bait in my life.” Kiera muttered to her brother. 

“It does make me wonder why she didn’t return, the mouras always return, even if they have children, especially because they have children, mouras only leave the nest for a time before they return, they always return,.” Amara mused. 

“Maybe they are waiting for her to marry another and then have a child to bring her back then. Edward was older but not ancient, he could have had another ten or even fifteen years. But he only lasted barely a year with her. Besides, a moura’s beauty is always outmatched by their greed for wealth and power, of which we have little of either, especially compared the wolves of Broadcove. She would probably burn through such a fortune in less than a year because there are no greater golden leeches than mouras, there’s good reason why only royalty have them, for they are the only ones with enough funds to upkeep them, for however long or short you get to have them around.” Kiera practically sneered as they walked over to one of the displays, not knowing you were just on the other side of the very thin wall and could hear every word as you pressed your back against the wall as your gold moura marks seemed duller than usual as you simply pressed your head back against the wall and tried to blink back your tears as you did your best to remain composed. 

“Audra? Are you alright?” Jane asked as she came out to the other dressing room in her next gown which caused the Voyambi’s to gasp softly and hush themselves from over the small wall. 

“Yes of course,” you sniffed and put on a brave smile for her sake. 

“You should definitely get that dress Jane, it’s so becoming, blue is definitely your color, it brings out your eyes, and if your mother will not buy it for you then I insist I will. You deserve to look just as pretty as I do, if not prettier and I have the perfect jewelry to match at home.” You insisted before you brought her closer. 

“For who knows how long your parent’s generosity will last.” You murmured to her which made her erupt into a giggle as she readily nodded in agreement. 

“If it ever stops, promise me, whatever happens, you’ll come visit me yes? Our family ties are about to be broken but hopefully our bond of friendship never does.” You implored her as she eagerly nodded yes as you walked each other out of the dressing room to see the Voyambi’s in the process of discretely scattering away. 

You weren’t sure why you cared so much of what the Duke and Duchesses thought of you, but you hated for them to believe lies, even though you were sure that even if you could scream the truth, they wouldn’t believe you now. They were set against you. 

But at the same time, Callellea’s words still rung in your head, beware of who the Morrigan’s introduced you to, even though you technically already had met at least Duke Voyambi earlier while Jane’s words also weighed heavily on your mind. If the Morrigan’s would not approve of the Voyambi’s, even if the good Duke was interested, if anything happened further, there would be no way for you and Jane to remain friends, for you were sure Agnes and Richard would never let Jane visit you if you became a Voyambi. You had to admit that it was a bad fit all around as you looked over to see the Voyambi’s looking at stockings from across the dress salon’s sales floor as the Duke turned his head to cast another glance your way and your eyes met again. He did not look dangerous to you though. He looked...kind, and pleasant and amiable and a gentle-man, and now all you could do was hope that Lady Whitesale would be good to him and help him build a proper empire and not tear it down as fast as he could build it. 

“Ugh, don’t waste your time or your thoughts on the Voyambis Audra, they’re purists, and would only ever want an orc bride or groom, and Whiteales is one of the very few orcs in high society they are not related to and she is a piece of work and you’ll see that for yourself at the ball at Havenfield.” Agnes urged you as she puffed out the sleeves on your shoulders as you nodded in agreement. 

“Don’t worry Audra, we would never part with you over anyone not worthy and the Voyambis are a far cry from. Come, we will get these gowns too.” She insisted as you could tell it was her feathers that had gotten more ruffled than yours because her plan of dumping you on the first available gentlemen had practically spit it back into her face. 

“Of course Countess, thank you.” You thanked her softly before she grabbed your chin to have you look up at her but the action caused you to rear your head back and out of her reach, looking at her with frightened eyes, fearing she was going to smack you again and that was observed by Demsey and his sisters, all of who had their eyes widened at the implications of that. 

“Like a head-shy horse she is.” Callie breathed as she tried to discretely stare at you from around her brother.  

“Horses only get head-shy when they’ve been hit or hurt. She’s clearly been hurt.” Amara realized. 

“And maybe it’s that- that is the reason she is not welcome back to the stables, head-shy horses are nigh impossible to get into gear. If she’s head-shy, that means she may have been broken beyond fixing and no longer usable by the moura stables, they are a stable after all, they’d sooner turn a horse to glue than rehabilitate it.” Callie empathized. 

“All the more reason not to have anything to do with the Morrigans and especially the Sultana.” Kiera insisted before her brother and other sisters turned to glare at her as Duke Voyambi was ready to march across the shop and take you away from Countess Morrigan in that instant so you would no longer suffer at her hands because you were a victim in all of this, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know how to help as he just watched as Agnes gathered you and Jane up and left before his sisters felt comfortable to try on dresses themselves before Amara took the dressing room you had occupied and found your purse on the floor next to the chair and grabbed it and tried to catch you again but the note from Callellea fell out of it as Kiera practically pounced on it and ran with it after Amara. 

“Sultana!” Amara called after you as you were about to get into the carriage as Agnes was losing patience for you to actually climb into it so she could. 

“You forgot your purse Sultana,” Mara said as she finally handed it off to you once she caught up with you. 

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much.” You thanked her as you readily took it back. 

“And this flew out of it?” Kiera said as she held up the note from Callella from her spot several paces behind her sister which made your eyes go wide in fear which Amara definitely noticed. 

“Uh, that is only a receipt, you can throw it away Duchess, thank you so much for returning this to me,” you thanked them before you quickly got into the carriage as Kiera looked from the note and back to you with a frown. 

“What was that all about?” Kiera asked. 

“Here, give it to me,” Agnes insisted as she reached out for it.

“Oh it’s only a receipt. We’ll throw it away for her, it’s the least we can do.” Amara said as she took the note and discretely threw an actual receipt away into the garbage bin next to her while she pocketed the note herself before they waived you all off as Amara noticed you seemed relieved yet saddened by it, giving the trash bin a longing glance as you passed it before Amara ushered Kiera back into the store. 

“Did you not see the way Aurdra became white as a sheet at the prospect of the Countess having this? It’s important that the Countess not have this.” Amara insisted as she pulled the note out of her pocket to see what it was before all of her siblings gathered around her to try to read what was written on it. 

“I knew it, those Morrigans are wolves.” Amara whispered hatefully as she read it. 

“It still doesn’t explain why the Morrigans are so eager to push the Sultana off.” Kiera argued as she took it and read it for herself before Demsey took it and read it too. 

“I know why.” Demsey volunteered before his sisters looked at him eagerly. 

“When Count Edward died, he left a living for the Sultana and that living which I heard a rumor Count Richard contested, and is most likely how she can afford to keep Mirador on her own as a widow. I don’t know how much it is, but it must be enough for the Morrigans to not want to pay it any more than they absolutely have to, they’ve been stuck with having to pay it while she’s been in mourning. The Count and Countess Morrigan hoard wealth and resources like the world is ending tomorrow, and the Sultana is obviously a leaky drain they wish to stop up. They’re going to be pushing the Sultana off on anyone they can and they’re hoping that putting a price on her head as high as fifty thousand pounds, that it will be enough to tempt anyone and everyone, come that ball and every other social event from now until the end of the season, the Sultana will be the bait in a dog fight.” Demsey realized. 

“But that is not our fight,” Kiera insisted. 

“If she was a jewel orc, which is what one gets when they mix orc and moura together- which we all know are one of two breeds of orcs allowed in the stables, your tune would be completely different Kiera. You’d be the first one to push me towards her and rescue her from them because you don’t like Lady Whitesale any more than I do which she is barely tolerable at best. But because the Sultana is human, elf and moura, you’re against it when she is still, obviously, the victim in all of this. Moura brides have no say so in who they marry, she was married for a year, widowed overnight and then immediately shipped off because it took less than a week between Edward being known as having passed and her moved into Mirador. There is obviously interference between her and the stables for other letters from them to go awry before they reach her. Mouras are social creatures, you isolate one, you weaken it. She’s clearly been on her own for two years by my calculations.” Demsey firmly countered.  

“How would any of us fare if we were isolated from our own kind, shipped off to a country that was alien to us, match us with a stranger and expected everything to be ok? The fact that she is just now learning she has a people here, and it is probably that- that has her fearing Countess Morrigan. It’s what abusers do, they isolate their victims, then make them completely dependent and then dump them and leave them devastated. That is what is happening here. And it also means someone other than the Sultana is keeping her from the stables and other mouras and my bets are on the Morrigans because if she was to go back there, they would not be able to silence her so effectively, you saw her, she couldn’t breathe without the Countess correcting her and breathing fire down her neck. The mistreatment she has obviously endured at their hands must be so great that it threatens what is left of the Morrigan family honor. But the Morrigan’s are obviously fed up with paying for it and because they are old money and old nobility, even if the Sultana and us were to speak out about it, who would believe us let alone her? But it must still be- threat enough, for the Morrigans to try to play nice for now.” Demsey reasoned. 

“So what we are going to do, is we are going to get whatever ribbons and lace and whatever else we need from here, we are going to get lunch, and then we are going to wait for the Sultana to return home, we are going to give this back to her, because this is the only touchstone she has of home she has because while she’s in mourning, she can’t reach out to others, as are the customs here, and then we are going to ask if we can help in any way. Because she obviously needs our help. If she is going to be bait in a dog fight, at least we can deter a dog or two if we can’t pull her out.” Demsey insisted as he folded the note back up and put it into his breast pocket for safe keeping as that seemed to settle the matter as Callie and Amara were proud and pleased for while Kiera simply huffed in annoyance. Her brother’s bleeding heart was going to get him in trouble one of these days.

[skgway]

1823 Aug., Thurs. 28

5 3/4

11 1/4

Did not hurry myself got my breakfast in comfort, took George in the gig, and set off to Rochdale at 7 40/60 – Walked all the way to H–x [Halifax]. 

A little drizzling rain so thick a mist on the top of Blackstone edge (got out of it in about 20 minutes) could scarce see 2 or 3 yards before us – A smartish shower for 3 or 4 minutes at Littlebro’, – The descent upon which place from Blackstone edge is fine scenery – Cleared up as we came within a couple of miles of Rochdale, and pretty fine when we stopped at the Wellington Inn at 11 10/60 –

Just 3 1/2 hours in coming – 17 miles from Shibden i.e. about 5 miles an hour – I had to let Caradoc feel the rein and whip a little in Rochdale streets to get him forward – Surely he cannot be tired – I drove him very gently to the top of Blackstone edge – Just 2 1/2 hours in getting to the Inn at the top – Walked and made George walk (1/4 hour) from the turnpike (about 8 miles from Rochdale) to the top of the hill –

“It has been remarked by the celebrated Haller, that we are deaf while we are yawning The same act of drowsiness that stretches open our mouths, closes our ears” volume 1 34/356 

“The Friend: a series of Essays, in 3 volumes to aid in the formation of fixed principles in politics, morals and religion with literary amusements interspersed By S. T. Coleridge, Esquire a new edition” …. London 1818 

“Avolent quantum volent paleæ levis fidei quocunque afflatu tentamonium! eo purior massa frumenti in horrea domini reponetur. Tertullian. Let if fly away, all that chaff of light faith that can fly off at any breath of temptation; the cleaner will the true grain be stored up in the granary of the Lord" 97/356 

“a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life” Milton’s speech for the library of unlicensed printing 108/356 

Napoleon’s “close imitation of Charlemagne was sufficiently evident by his assumption of the Iron Crown of Italy, by his imperial coronation with the presence and authority of the Holy Father; by his imperial robe embroidered with bees in order to mark him xxxx as a successor of Pepin, and even by his ostentatious revocation of Charlemagne’s grants to the Bishop of Rome” 136/356….. 

“unless above himself he can erect himself, how poor a thing is man!” Daniel 166/356 

“who has not, a thousand times, seen it snow upon water? who has not seen it with a new feeling, since he has read Burn’s comparison of sensual pleasure, to snow that falls upon a river, a moment white – then gone for ever!” 184/356

“Our bodies had their morning, have their noon, And shall not better – the next change is night; But their far larger guest, t’ whom sun and moon are sparks and short-liv’d, claims another right – The noble soul by age grows bustier, her appetite and her digestion mend; we must not starve nor hope to pamper with women’s milk and pap unto the end. Provide you manlier diet! Donne.” 179/356 

All the above of today written at the Wellington Inn Rochdale. Shut up my book at 15/60 having written about an hour, and thought but a few minutes – (Manghester) ordered the gig – George gone out, and not returned – Near dead he return of 1/2 hour – Asked him the reason of this when I had ordered him to be ready in 2 hours – his “watch was wrong” – bade him not do so again, and drove off from Rochdale at 2 40/60 – 

Got into Manchester – Stopt at the Bridgewater arms at 3 50/60 i.e. 11 miles in 2 10/60 hours – A hilly stage – Caradoc came better than before, and was less heated – He is unaccustomed to busy streets I was obliged here also (Manchester) to give him the whip once or twice –

Mrs. Lacy did, or I fancied she did, look a little surprised at my walking in alone. The gig could not get to the door for a carriage and four but she was very civil. Yet I have a very small room on the third floor and the bar parlour –

Ordered dinner at 6 – Washed and made myself comfortable – It was 4 40/60 before I set off to Mr. Simmons George St., having previously written a note to leave if he was not at home – It was 5 55/60 when I left him that I must have been a full hour with him – A plain-appearing, plain-mannered man – I told him the same story I had told Doctor Simpson save that my friend had been thrown from a curricle, not horseback. Enlarged on my suspicions but he said supposing it was originally a gonorrhoea that must be new worn out and it was a gleet or leucorrhea that now remained.

The discharge of whites if virulent or any other mucous disch[arge], if ditto, might be infectious. When I told him the immense exercise I had taken in Craven he agreed the complaint could not be weakness but something rather inflammator[y]. Perhaps astringents would not answer. As yet advised my taking capivior copaiba balsam but it would affect my breath and urine and this would not do till I returned from Scarbro etc. Thought I had better take lodgings here for three weeks. He could then do better for me. Said [I] would put myself entirely under his care and would not consult Doctor S[impson] anymore. I shewed him his presc[r]iption but said I had not tried it. 

He knows the literary people here. Dalton would give me lecture in chemistry if I liked this. I said would make me not begrudge my time. He talked of organic disease. I was anxious to know that the complaint did not go beyond the vagaina. He hoped not. Asked if I had had many children from the impulse of the moment, I said ‘Lord, bless you, no. I never was married but my life was of too much consequence to my family for me to hesitate to do anything likely to be of service.’ 

He then proposed an examination. A [I] said I should not think it right to refuse to submit. Unbuttoned my drawer and he put his finger up. Then lay on my left side on the sopha and he put his finger high up and pressed. Desperately, said I, once or twice, ‘that hurts exceedingly’ However, he said there was no organic disease and very little discharge. Bade me not make myself uneasy and not think much of it. In fact, he did not then seem to think me very bad. I told him I had only just washed –

He thought my tongue furry and that a little gentle opening medicine would do me good. Might take warm sea water but not bathe – He thought proper diet and care would set me right. I might be subject to slight returns, but should know how to keep them off. Should lie with my hips supported so that the syringe being withdrawn, the contents should remain half hour. A sponge saturated with the injection being applied to keep all in. 

I might take olibanum at Scarbro. This would not affect my breath nor render me liable to anything disagreeable. His prescription for me is different from π [Mariana]’s lotion of chamomile, hemlock, and purified sulphate of zinc and olibanum. To take inwardly. The handling hurt me and I felt it quarter or half hour afterwards, but otherwise I did not mind it much. These things are chiefly in idea, for strictly speaking there is no real indelicacy in submitting to a thing of this kind when so necessary –

Dinner not ready till 6 40/60 then sat down to boiled salmon, mutton chops, boiled potatoes, plum tart, a pint of very tolerable port and biscuits – Enjoyed my dinner and afterwards wrote the last 8 lines of the last page and all this so far –

For the weather vide the beginning of this journal of today – Beautifully fine all the way from Rochdale here, and very fine evening – I feel rather warm – (‘Tis now 8 20/60 p.m.) – Then wrote out the draft of the index to this volume from 25 to 29 this month, and copied wrote out the index into this volume from 15 to 21 this month which took me till 10 5/60 – 

Came upstairs at 10 1/4 having paid my bill, determining to be off before breakfast at 7 in the morning. E [two dots, treating venereal complaint] O [two dots, signifying middling discharge] Several drops, thickish and yellowish –

[sideways in margin] Manchester Rochdale

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

My notes on Lethal White episode 3

As usual, my poorly sorted and not-really-filtered thoughts on “Lethal White”, episode 3. Continued under the cut because ALL THE SPOILERS!

We’re back with Robin and cling-wrapped Chiswell. Holliday plays Robin’s tenuously controlled panic very well. The subtle trembling, the tears she forces back. She’s so good. 👏🏼

A two-week jump. These always jar me. Did that happen in the book?🤨

Another mention of Strike talking with Wardle, and again we don’t get to see him. Dang. I really miss his leather-jacketed wry humour. 😔

Of course they’re meeting at “The White Horse”. Where else? *Rosmersholm vibes*

The reveal about the bones was a bit anti-climactic, wasn’t it? It had a better effect with the skull, in the book. And how do you “accidentally” shoot a horse, even when it’s a small one? How much more are we supposed to hate Freddie? (This episode is just full of terribly behaving men)

Who are the kids playing with the dog? Pringle and Pong? Were those their ridiculous nicknames?

And here comes the “Knives Out” scene. 🔪The Chiswell family is such a loving bunch. *coughs*

Did you see the playful tension between Raff and Robin? And that little disconcerted look Cormoran casts them? Bit jealous, Corm? 😏

Raff’s sarcastic little throw-in remarks are really making this scene more fun. Gotta give him that: he adds a bit of “black sheep” dash to the family!

“KEYS!” 😁 Cormoran is like the adult stepping between a bunch of fist-throwing kids.

Cormoran and Robin are staring at the Chiswell’s bickering as if waiting for one of them to actually start spitting and biting.

Raff: “I’m sure our charming hostess means to offer you tea at some point.” 🤣

Cormoran: “I’m thinking it might be suicide after all. He couldn’t face another family gathering.” 😂

*grunts* We’ve all been there, haven’t we? (And I don’t even want to start thinking about Cormoran’s family gatherings…)

Hah! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I guessed right from the leaked stills: it is the hospital Billy’s in! (Cookie points for me!)

That staff woman gives off very sensible and caring vibes. They picked the actress well.

And, god, Billy carved the horse into his own chest? 😟 Good god…

Vanessa! And she looks good! And - unlike in the first series - she smiles! And is really NICE! (Wow, what a beautiful woman.) 😍

That little lounge corner in Cormoran’s office is new, isn’t it? Very cozy. ☕️🍪

Goth Robin! She looks awesome! 😍 (Excuse me, but have we traveled back into the 80s? She looks like half the people in my school back then.) And look at Holliday playing her: she even moves differently! This season must have been a lot of fun for her as an actress.

I love the Wiccan shop. I had one of those salt lamps (and a lava lamp too), but don’t tell anybody… ☺️

Cormoran’s FACE when he sees goth Robin! 🥰The double take, the pleased surprise, that touch of awe… He is so proud of her! (What a contrast to Matt the Twat’s derogatory reactions to her disguises).

Cormoran: “You liking Raff then?” Are we a teensy bit jealous again, Corm? ☺️

When he asked Robin what she was doing this evening, I held my breath. WAS HE GOING TO ASK HER OUT? 🤗 He wasn’t. 😔 Everybody calm down. It’s not happening yet. Unfortunately. And probably never will. *very long sigh*

It’s so cute how he can’t stop looking at her! 🥰I love her confidence. And his twinkle-eyed, soft grin that doesn’t seem to want to fade. He truly admires her, for her competence AND for her looks. ASK HER OUT YOU FOOL! *headdesk*

Lorelei. With coffee. Apologizing for saying “I love you”. Ack. And then Corm says “I was gonna call you.” (You weren’t, admit it!). I didn’t know what to feel when seeing this scene for the first time: shocked that they were still together? Sympathy for Lorelei? Mad at Cormoran’s lackluster ‘yeah, alright, whatever’ attitude? Very mixed emotions.

Cormoran following Aamir along the South Bank. Watch me pointing excitedly at the screen because I’ve strolled down that same boardwalk way back when traveling was still a thing. *flails* *misses London*

Aamir’s place. Why is Cormoran talking about food again? Robin hasn’t fed him biscuits today yet, has she?

Cormoran’s always a bit unnerving when interrogating someone. He uses friendly words, but there is that tiny bit of menace about him, an intensity and pressure… SIB Corm. Tom does that so well. 😎

“You gonna butter me?” Smooth moves, ex-Sergeant Strike! 🥋 Oh, I love seeing him in action! 🤗

Robin hides the phone, and I am a nervous wreck worrying someone’s going to call and her phone isn’t in silent mode! (enneagram type 6 here, hello…) 😬

I was waiting for Matt to be an absolute prick when he sees goth Robin, but he’s actually not. And he’s had the Green Dress mended. I like how the show gives him a few shades and doesn’t paint him as outrageously hateful as the book does. (jftr, we all still hate you, Matt!)

But then, the way he rushes at her with his “That’s not true” - why does it somehow feel like a physical threat? And wow, Robin is COLD. Dude, your marriage is over. You just haven’t been notified yet.

So we’re ignoring Lorelei’s calls again, Cormoran? *eyebrow lift* Is that what we do as a gentleman? And then he calls off dinner and has no more than a lame “Sounds good, I’ll call you” when she mentions breakfast? If he’s not invested at the mention of food, something is clearly wrong…

Della Winn, and they picked a blind actress for the role. Good for them! ✔️

So, help me out here, native speakers: Della says she can hear the West Country in Cormoran’s vowels, but to me he doesn’t sound Cornish. Am I wrong? To my ears, Tom is speaking in some sort of self-made accent that I can’t place, but it doesn’t sound anything like the Cornish burr Robert Glenister gives him in the audiobooks. Opinions? 🤔

Rhiannon’s story touched me in the book, and it touches me deeply here. A revenge murder would’ve made perfect sense to me.

The party. We’ve apparently time-traveled again.

“What’s ‘Becca’ short for?” 🙄

Ah! The note was hidden in the maxipads box! I seem to recall that, in the book, Robin hid the Houses of Parliament bugging device in a tampon box. Cool parallel.

VANESSA! HURRY UP! 😨

The chase. Good thing this goth girl wears sensible shoes! Nice trick with the crouching and tripping. Take THAT, Jimmy! Robin’s learned from past experience, and I love the addition of the chase that wasn’t in the book. Robin’s no longer a helpless victim. She is a FIGHTER! And - BAM! Perfect timing, patrol car! 🚔

Cormoran: “How did you guess where she hid it?” (Because that’s where girls hide stuff, darling. ONE good thing all the menstruating is good for at least.)

Quick shout-out to Tom Burke’s freckles. They really should be credited as supporting actors. 🥰

Btw, the navy jumper is not a jumper but a cardigan! I bet Tom was pleased. (And my shippy brain can imagine him wrapping a freezing Robin in it 💙)

Enter Lorelei. Here be dragons.

“You know, if you want a hot meal and a shag with no human emotions involved, there are restaurants. And brothels.”

Oooohhhh... 😳

Need ointment for that burn, Corm?

And she’s entitled! Cormoran’s old school gallantry seems to have gone MIA when it comes to treating Lorelei with the respect she deserved. Especially since he had his chance at ending it decently and respectfully at their earlier little talk over coffee. I still don’t think he meant to hurt her. It was thoughtlessness. Which is no redeeming factor at all. He deserved this, even in front of Robin. #TeamLorelei

Well, at least he didn’t get smacked with an ashtray this time.

I LOLed when Robin simply went straight back to business without commenting. A real pro. 😎

Cormoran: “That was a bit awkward.” Was it, Corm? We barely noticed. *snorts*

And although Robin defends him a little bit, her suppressed smirk and her work-life balance remark tell us she’s enjoyed this a bit. And not just because Cormoran is single again.

Matthew calls: “Sorry, it’s a work thing.” (NO IT ISN’T AND YOU’RE A LYING, CHEATING [REDACTED] !!!) 🤬

Robin steps on Sarah Shaglock’s earring, and now starts a scene that makes me want to shower Holliday in BAFTAs. 🏆🏆🏆 Heart wrenching, painful, powerful. And Matthew finally shows his true colours. (And Kerr Logan deserves a nod for his acting too).

On a completely irrelevant side note: Matt stole that coat from Darius Tanz, only that Santi looked hot as hell in it whereas Matt just looks like an accountant who pretends to look hot. (Go and watch “Salvation” if you have no clue what I’m talking about)

Robin is so bravely holding it together, and - wow - her coldness towards Matt is pretty impressive, and at the same time she’s forcing herself not to cry and fights down a panic attack. It’s amazing how she puts every emotion and train of thought from the books onto the table and we can read it in her face and in her voice and body language. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼Best scene of the season, if you ask me. (Not that anyone ever asks me, but here it is.)

“I’m not gonna let you fail again!” 😡 Aaaand Matt tries to put her down again. To make her feel weak and in need of help. BUT IT’S NO LONGER WORKING. She’s got this. Oh, she’s got this!

They left out Robin saying that he “doesn’t even have a knife”, and I’m actually glad they did. This didn’t need to be about physical assault again. Matt wouldn’t go that far, and it wasn’t necessary to go there. They clearly showed how manipulative he is and how strong Robin has to be to walk away from him, and that is enough.

The minicab driver. I remember the actress as Mrs. Fitz from “Outlander”, and she’s the perfect motherly tough love type to crack that marriage joke. And to get our girl out of there with no further fuss.

Whoa. I had high expectations. And they were met 10/10.

What did you guys think?

[otomememento]

Held Captive

Cybird Creative Challenge: Day 3 - Enchanted

“Do you really think a blatant lie like that will get you off the hook for illegally entering the Garden?”  The man’s voice was stern and imperious, belying the fine porcelain features of his face.  Jonah, as he had introduced himself, sounded a lot more formidable than he had looked at first, despite his height.

“But it’s the truth!”  However Rosette had ended up there, this was something she had to deal with now.  Being accused of doing something illegal by someone wearing a rather official looking uniform wasn’t a situation she could quietly slip away from.  Much to her chagrin.  But, if she were completely honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to slip away.  After all, Jonah was well worth looking at.  His companion was fairly handsome too, but he seemed to be less involved in the conversation.

“Drop the act.  I don’t take kindly to people treating me like a fool.”  Rosette winced; she didn’t think stating the truth was treating someone like a fool.  She honestly hadn’t meant to trespass anywhere she wasn’t wanted.  St. James Park was a public space, free for all to enter.  Ending up here had confused her greatly.

The confusion gave way to something more akin to fear as she watched Jonah pull something out of his uniform pocket.  She couldn’t quite tell what it was until she felt cool metal clasped around both her wrists.  She had been handcuffed!  The craftsmanship on them was remarkable.  Beautifully wrought, they were decorated with gems and a detailed rose decal.  They barely looked functional, but when she tried to pull her hands apart, she met with strong resistance.

“You…just handcuffed me,” she said, stating the obvious with disbelief, as though saying it out loud would suddenly bring sense back into the world.  It  seemed absurd.  She had always been a law abiding citizen, and she could only stare at the manacles with a look of wide-eyed shock.

“You’ll never be able to get these off.  Though that might change if you get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”  Jonah tugged slightly on the chain linking the two metal bands, bringing Rosette just a little closer.  She could see the gleam of his golden eyes, the dainty beauty mark below his lashes, the glint of his silvery hair that had just a touch of pale green to it.  He was a cold beauty of a man.

“Get down on my…”  Rosette’s cheeks burned until they matched her name.  Jonah’s command had sounded demanding and carried a hint of threat in it.  She should have been terrified, and part of her was, but another part was simply stunned.  She looked him in the eyes, noticing the tiny details in them with sudden and surprising clarity.  Almost as if she was hypnotized, she sank to her knees, wondering at herself for not standing up for herself.

“I see you have some sense.  Very good.  Now for the second part.”

“You’re merciless, Jonah.   This puts me in an uncomfortable position,” said the other man, who had never given his name.  Rosette had almost forgotten he was there.

“Merciless?  You’re the last person I  want to hear that from,” retorted Jonah, a slight huff in his tone.  And Rosette thought she detected a hint of disdain as well.

“What are you getting at?” asked the other officer, with a ‘who me’ expression on his face.  Jonah dismissed the question as rhetorical and turned his intense gaze back on Rosette.  She swallowed, arms trembling as she clasped her hands together.

“Please, Jonah sir.  I didn’t mean any harm.  I’ve never broken any laws before.”  Looking up at him through her lashes, she added with quivering lips, “Forgive me my transgressions.”  Then she bowed her head, awaiting judgment.  His words had sounded cruel, and the other officer’s commentary didn’t lend itself to comfort, but Rosette found herself feeling oddly tranquil.  As though the mere act of asking for forgiveness had released her from a burden she didn’t realize she was carrying.

In Jonah’s eyes she had not seen malice, as his words indicated, but merely pride…and a great deal of it.  He was like a living Adonis, as though he had stepped down from a classical painting.  It wasn’t the handcuffs, or the threat of punishment, that made Rosette long for words of forgiveness.  No, she simply couldn’t bear the though of having those glorious eyes look at her and find her wanting.

Time seemed to tick by so slowly, she could hear each movement of the pocket watch she still had tucked away.  Every second felt like a tiny stab.  Why should she care so much about what a stranger thought of her, especially one so high and mighty?  Rosette tried to talk reason into herself, but the largest part of her mind simply wouldn’t listen.

Finally time seemed to resume its normal course as she felt a tug on the chain again.  Carefully she rose to her feet as Jonah pulled the chain upwards.  She felt another shiver as he looked her over again.  He frowned, pursing his lips as he let go of the chain.  Rosette worried that perhaps she had misstepped.  Had she been too flowery?  Not flowery enough?  Did he think she was  being impudent.  Her nerves were a wreck.

But then he surprised her.  He unwrapped the cape that hung off his shoulder and wrapped it around hers.  The warmth was welcome against the chill of the night air, and from it Rosette could smell a faint whiff of strawberries mixed with something much more human.  Startled she looked up at him, a question on her face.  For a second he looked almost petulant.

“You looked cold,” he stated by way of explanation.  “I won’t have it said that I mistreat a prisoner.”

“Then it wasn’t enough?”  Rosette wasn’t sure how she managed to ask this so calmly.

“We aren’t going to harm you,” he said.  “But you still must come with us.  Only the King himself can determine your fate.  I will tell him that you behaved well and put in a good word for you since you did such a good job in following my command.”  His fellow officer snickered softly, and Jonah shot him a disapproving glare.

The three of them were quiet as they left the garden, descending into some stairs.  Jonah was unyielding as he moved her forward, but he was also gentle.  He guided her so carefully that she never stumbled.  Rosette realized that the beautiful garden had actually been on the roof of a very large building.  Once she hit street level, she lost the last shred of belief that she could still be in London.  The glowing blue lights everywhere were like nothing she had seen before.

But what shocked her more was, she didn’t care.  Somehow she had left her reason behind in the garden and was ready to embrace this new world…and the people in it.

[alonely-dreamer]

Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 26: Fairy of Fire (Part 2 & 3)

Summary: Mackenzie Alemaund is an unlucky 18 year old teenager whose life changes drastically after she gets kidnapped by two vampires and learns, in the same day, that she is not human.

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 3389

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23: Part 1 | Chapter 23: Part 2 | Chapter 23: Part 3 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 (Part 1) | Chapter 25 (Part 2) | Chapter 25 (Part 3) | Chapter 26 (Part 1)

“I’m sorry to hear you are leaving us already.”

The queen’s words echoed in the large throne room. Mackenzie always wondered why they never bothered to put some furniture in there. It would reduce the echo and make it warmer too. This room was always chilly, and if she had to be honest, it intimidated her. Which, she thought, was probably what Margo wanted.

“I’m surprised they stayed here for this long,” Alexander chuckled, interrupting his monarch.

Margo ignored the remark, like she always did, with a wave of the hand.

“We shall have another ball,” she continued. “When are you leaving?”

“Sunday, your Majesty,” Elijah replied politely.

“Mmh, that doesn’t give us enough time to prepare…”

“A ball is unnecessary,” Mackenzie said. “We don’t want to bother you with…”

“Nonsense,” Margo stopped her. “We’ll have a dinner, at least. Friday night. Just us, and Cornelius, of course, he’d be unhappy not to be invited to say goodbye.”

“A dinner sounds lovely,” Elijah nodded.

“Excellent!” Margo replied as she got up from her throne. “Heidi will inform the servants and the cooks,” she said, and Heidi nodded before she exited the room without a word. The witch hadn’t expressed any joy or disappointment at the news of the couple’s departure. “And Alexander will make sure Cornelius receives an invitation.”

“Running to it,” he said with an ironic smile. He never did like Lord Fay.

Mackenzie smiled back at him as he winked at her before he followed Heidi’s footsteps.

“Any travel plans?” Margo asked as she made her way to them.

“London,” Elijah replied. “And then… we’ll see.”

“Terrible idea,” she said. “England in January?”

“It’s still a beautiful city, no matter how cold.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Margo dismissed them with a wave of the hand. “Well, I have work to do. Please, enjoy your last few days among us.”

“We will,” Mackenzie politely nodded.

She took the hand Elijah was handing to her and Mackenzie felt relieved as they finally exited the white marbled room.

“I don’t think England is any worse in January than the Forest is.”

“Have you seen the sun since we got here?” she asked with humor.

“I can’t seem to remember,” he replied with a grin.

 ***

 “Ouch!”

“You need to stay focus, Mack! Vampires are stronger and faster than you, you need to be prepared to defend yourself.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Mackenzie said as she sat up on the ground where she fell when her godfather decided to suddenly attack her. “I’ll be careful next time I’m having a casual chat with you while walking in the gardens, I never know when you decide to kick my ass for no reason.”

“It’s a teaching moment,” he shrugged.

“It hurt.”

“Yeah, well, pain is better than death.”

“I believe what he’s trying to say is ‘be careful’,” Elijah said as he held his hand out to her.

She took it quickly and he pulled her up effortlessly.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.”

“What I’m trying to say is ‘don’t trust anyone’.”

“It sounds a little like ‘I’ll miss you, I wish you weren’t leaving’,” she said with a grin.

“That too,” he admitted.

“Should I expect a curse from Heidi, or will she just say that to me… you know, with words?”

“That’s basically the only thing you can expect from her.”

“And are you two staying here?” Elijah asked.

“Probably. She didn’t say anything about leaving any time soon. But you can always call us if you need anything, Mack.”

“I know,” she smiled. “Thank you. For everything that you did for me.”

“It was our pleasure… even if she doesn’t show it.”

Mackenzie chuckled. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Heidi wasn’t one to show emotions but there was no doubt in any of their minds that she cared. Mackenzie didn’t know what had made her that way, but she was glad Alexander was there for her. He saw her for who she was, and he loved her as much as she loved him. It was the kind of relationship Mackenzie hoped to have one day, with Elijah. They knew each other so well, there was no secret, nothing to hide. They supported each other and had for centuries. Was there anything better for an immortal than to have someone to spend immortality with?

She often thought about Elijah’s relationship with his siblings. He had spent so many centuries with Klaus, despite what he had done to them. So many years wasted because of loyalty. Lived through so much pain and hurt. And when they were finally reunited, made a family again under false pretexts, he lost them all, all over again. Just to leave, leave them all behind, and go to another continent with her. For her.

Every day, there were new reasons to fall in love with him all over again. New proof to dismiss any doubt she may have. Being with him made her feel like she was the luckiest girl in the world. And she deserved that, because the universe had been more than unfair with her. And he deserved it too, because the universe had kicked him to the ground way too many times.

 ***

 Their last dinner with the queen was awaited by none of them and they doubted Margo was looking forward to it either. It was going to be long and boring, a never-ending social event that everybody wanted over even before it started. However, Elijah had to admit it was nothing but an honor that the queen would bother herself with such an event. He and Mackenzie had been treated with nothing but respect ever since they had arrived in the Forest, and if it only made Mackenzie uncomfortable, it reminded him of another time, back when he lived with Klaus as rich and respected Lords in England back in the day. Back when he met Katerina Petrova for the first time. So many things had happened since then, and there was nothing in the world that would ever make him wish to go back. He would rather die than go through all that again.

“You ready?”

He looked up to the voice calling for him. Mackenzie was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, dressed in another one of Margo’s dress, another gown that would be a pain to pack, between the two grimoires she had been given on her first day here, and the other clothes and accessories Margo hadn’t stopped sending her for some reason. Maybe she just wanted her to fit in. Mackenzie wouldn’t dare wear any of it outside of the Forest.

“Give me a minute,” he said as he stood up from the armchair in the corner of the room. “Go ahead and I’ll join you.”

She smiled. “What were you daydreaming about?” she asked as she made her way to him.

“Nothing interesting.”

“It was interesting enough to make you late,” she grinned.

“I’ll make sure to apologize to her Majesty,” he smiled back.

“Okay, I’ll see you there, then,” she said as she tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

He watched her leave in silence and after he heard the door close he turned to the mirror and started to undo his tie. This suit was way too casual to wear to a royal event.

 ***

 Mackenzie walked down the hallways of the castle like she knew them by heart, and after having walked through them with Alexander and Elijah for the past two months, she did. She knew all the hallways and most of the rooms and had only recently started to recognize all the servants, even if she couldn’t remember their names.

The hallways were empty, nothing unusual, especially since there was a dinner to prepare, but Mackenzie always found it unnerving. They seemed colder and somewhat darker, and a strange feeling seized her as despite seeing no one around her, she could clearly feel somebody’s presence. And not just anyone. It wasn’t a servant, as none were so powerful. And she was fairly sure she had never met this person, as she didn’t recognize their magic. She started walking faster, though she couldn’t find the strength to run, as if her breath had been taken away. She tried to stay calm, knowing there was no legit reason for her to panic. But her heart jumped in her chest as she heard footsteps behind her, and she knew it wasn’t Elijah.

She turned around and was startled by the presence of a man, someone she had never seen before. He was tall and blond, and dressed in dark green, similar to what Cornelius and his people wore.

“My apologies, Lady Alemaund,” the man chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not a Lady,” she corrected him right away, like she did every time someone called her that.

“Apologies again,” he said with an amused smile. “My Lord Cornelius sent me.”

She frowned. “Isn’t he coming to the dinner?”

“He is, though you will not see him there.”

“I’m confused…”

“I’m afraid this cannot wait.”

Mackenzie was about to mumble a confused answer, but she barely had time to open her mouth that the stranger brought his hand to his mouth, opened it and blew some white powder onto Mackenzie’s face. She stepped back coughing, her eyes starting to burn. She felt very dizzy extremely fast and though she tried to walk away, she only stumbled a few steps before her knees gave up and she fell to the ground. Pain was the last thing she felt before everything went dark.

 ***

 She felt her eyes burning as she slowly woke up and tried to open them. She was scared and confused, not knowing where she was, not remembering a thing of what had happened. She tried to calm down but as she realized she wasn’t feeling her magic anymore, she started to panic even more. However, she knew someone was there with her, as she could hear movement near her.

“My apologies, my dear, I had to triple the dosage. I’ve never dealt with an ultimate before.”

Her heart sank as she recognized Cornelius’ voice. She couldn’t see anything, could barely breathe, and could not say a word.

“I know you must have many questions, but don’t try to talk, I cast a strong paralysis spell. Of course, it’s not working as well as it should,” he chuckled, “but it should be good enough.”

She understood what he meant when she managed to slightly move a finger. She was lying on what seemed to be a wooden table, and there was an awful smell she couldn’t recognize.

“I must apologize, sincerely,” he continued. “I had other plans for you. But just like your mother you couldn’t stay here, could you… you had to go and see the world,” he said with an irritated tone. “It was not my wish to kill you so soon, but I cannot take the risk of letting you go now. I can’t take the risk of letting this… vampire,” he said the word with such disgust it made her wince mentally, “turn you the first chance he gets.”

She felt something warm slowly slid down her cheeks and it took her a few seconds to realize they were tears.

“At least with your mother my usual spell worked. I managed to steal her years and her powers without having to leave my home. But with you… no matter what I tried, it just wouldn’t take. I was hoping for good results when you mentioned feeling sick after our little dinners, but your powers always came back the following day… I’m not certain what I did wrong…”

At the mention of her mother, she unconsciously fisted her hand, and she could feel hot fire in her chest, but in her state, she didn’t know if it were whatever Cornelius was doing, or her magic coming back.

“Either way, stealing your lifetime shouldn’t require a different spell. But I do need to figure out a way to take your powers, I can’t let them waste away. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for a Fay to be born an ultimate?”

She whimpered when she felt his hands on her. He brought her sleeve up on her right arm and she felt something wet and cold against her vein.

“Your boyfriend was very distraught when he realized you were missing,” he said with a mocking tone. “Margo even sent the royal guard after you. Well, don’t worry. They’ll never find you here. They’ll never find you at all.”

She felt a needle pierce through her skin and a hot liquid enter her vein. She fisted her right hand and pushed him away, breaking the needle which stayed stuck in her arm. She didn’t know if it were blood she felt running down her arm, or Cornelius’ poison, or both.

“I see your powers are coming back,” he mumbled unhappily. “I didn’t expect it so soon.”

She knew he was going to do something to stop it, to take her powers away again, and she couldn’t let that happen. That fire she felt in her chest, no matter if it was hers or caused by Cornelius’ spell, she could use it either way, and so she did. Without moving a muscle, she set fire to the room, to everything she could without even seeing any of it. Anything flammable was suddenly burning hot, taking Cornelius by surprise. He had killed her mother and nature knew how many other Fays, and he was now trying to kill her… he had made a big mistake.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said, trying to stay calm, but clearly failing.

All she needed was for him to touch her again and he’d be done. She could survive the fire, she’d burn the entire place to the ground if she had to. Maybe the smoke would alert Elijah and the royal guard, who knew? But all Mackenzie wanted was for him to die.

“That’s quite enough,” he growled as he grabbed her arm again, a needle ready in his other arm.

Mackenzie found luck in her misery as Cornelius’ potions and spells clearly weren’t ready to take on an ultimate. She put all of her strength in her arm and seized his wrist. Her eyes opened as she tightened her grip on him, making it impossible for him to free himself. Her burning glare found him and if he hadn’t realized he was already dead, then he was just a fool. Whatever magic he had used against her faded away quickly as she stole his magic. She took a deep breath as she took back control of her body.

The fire was still burning strong around them and glasses and jars were breaking in small explosions. She sat up quickly as he fell on his knees, feeling dizzy as his magic and all the magic he had stolen left him rapidly. The physical pain was gone, and she got her strength back as she never let go of him. She jumped off the table and her feet found the hot ground. She tightened her grip and squeezed until she heard him scream.

“You killed my mother,” she growled. He was not only regretting that, but he was also paying for his arrogance. He should have never told her that. He was going to pay for all the Fays he had killed and stolen from. “Can you handle the fire?” she asked as she directed her anger entirely on him now. The fire around them disappeared in a second, in a quiet yet deafening sound. But she could still feel it, and so could he as his blood started to boil. “She couldn’t.”

And neither could he as his screams started to fill the room. She finally let go of him, having no magic left in his body. He screamed and burned for what seemed like an eternity, but she found no displeasure in it. Eventually, Cornelius stopped screaming, and his still burning body fell to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

She stared at the darkened ground at her feet, a burning smell lingering in the air, the one of burnt flesh. She stared with lifeless eyes for seconds, or perhaps minutes, time seemed to have stopped. She then looked up, with no more life on her face, and stepped over the ashes to make her way to the stairs in the corner of the room.

She walked up the steps of stone and didn’t even try using the handle to open the door as it flew open and slammed against the wall. She could feel it, she could feel him. The one she was looking for. He was the only one there, in the house, the only one she wanted. She could feel him running. He had heard his boss scream, no doubt. She walked down the hallway, the same hallway she had been through all those nights when Cornelius had invited her for dinner. It led to the front door. It was already opened. She could see a dark figure run away from the house, in the gardens leading to the forest. She didn’t bother following him. A giant root appeared before him, suddenly coming from the ground, causing the earth around him to shake, almost making him fall. The enormous root slammed on the ground right next to him, so hard Mackenzie heard it from where she stood. The root wrapped itself around his feet and she could hear him scream. He screamed when he fell and he screamed again when the root started moving, dragging him back to the house. Mackenzie didn’t move, waiting for her prey to come to her. The screams stopped shortly before he arrived. The root disappeared into the ground, leaving behind enormous trails. The man wasn’t moving, wasn’t screaming, wasn’t breathing. His face was brown with dirt. He had choked on mud.

All those romantic novels were wrong. Revenge did feel good. But the fire inside of her wasn’t satiated, it wanted more, she wanted more. She slowly walked down the stairs and turned around to face Cornelius’ manor. It was now empty, only inhabited by the ghosts of Cornelius’ victims. It started burning, slowly, fire purging all the evil that had ever been committed within its walls. She stepped back, watching with some kind of fascination as she felt the flowers burn, as she watched the roots on the walls go up in flames. As she watched the smoke rising high in the dark sky, getting mixed with the charged clouds.

People were coming. Suddenly they were there. They might be talking but she couldn’t hear them. Watching the flames go high and higher she didn’t move when two hands seized her face. Someone came before her, someone was standing right in front of her, her face in their hands, his hands. He was saying something, he kept talking and started shouting as he received no answer. Eventually she moved her eyes from the fire and found his. She found his worried teary eyes and it was as if something had been snapped back in place inside of her. She could hear suddenly. She could hear his voice, she could hear the house crumble down.

“Mackenzie, talk to me,” he begged.

She put a hand on his in response and he felt like breathing again.

“What happened?” she heard Alexander ask from behind her.

“Where’s Cornelius?” Heidi asked.

“Mackenzie are you okay? Are you hurt?” Elijah looked her up and down, inspected her body for any injury. But she wasn’t injured anymore. Not physically at least.

“What happened?” Alexander insisted.

Mackenzie felt dizzy and confused as if she had just returned to her body and someone else had taken her place. But no one else had. She had done all of this. She had set the house on fire, destroyed it, and killed Cornelius, and that other guy she didn’t even know the name of. She had killed them both.

And would do it again.

Finally, she answered them. In a voice that didn’t sound like her, or at least not to her. As if it were coming from someone else. Her words, but not her voice.

“He killed my mom.”

**********

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[writingformadderton]

I’ll Always Protect You

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 2852

Summary: Taron and Rich are best friends and ex-lovers. Richard is still single post-breakup, but Taron is in a relationship of 3 years. They decide to meet up for lunch after not seeing each other for a while. Everything is fine, until Richard notices Taron’s boyfriend at the same cafe with another man.....

Additional Tags: Fluff, slight angst, arguing, swearing

Taron walks down the stairs quickly and realizes he forgot his sunglasses upstairs. “Love? Can you bring me my sunglasses? I’m running late.” He quickly puts on his sneakers and glances in the mirror one last time. His boyfriend steps down the stairs and hands them to him.

“Have fun.” he says sarcastically, clearly showing him he doesn’t like the thought of Taron meeting his mate with his pissed off expression.

“Come on, babe! It’s just this afternoon, we haven’t seen each other for ages.” T says and wraps him in a goodbye hug, looking up into the dark brown eyes of his boyfriend.

“He is your ex. He doesn’t have to see you regularly.” He states bitterly.

Taron closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Don’t get upset, it’s not worth arguing over. “He is my best mate. You know you don’t have to be jealous.”

His boyfriend lets out a dark laugh and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, of course. It’s only Richard Madden himself.”

“Stop it now.” Taron growls and gives him a quick kiss. “You know I love you. I’ll see you later.” He gives him a small smile and walks out of the door.

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

Richard opens the door of his hotel room after he finally reads Taron’s text messages. “Hey, mate. I’m sorry, came here later than expected.”

“That’s fine.” Taron says and smiles, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed ya.” he admits and pulls back.

“Missed ya too. How long has it been now? Almost a year?” Richard lets him step in and closes the door. His former boyfriend makes himself comfortable on a chair and leans back relaxed. Rich wants to ask him how his day was going when the sound of Taron’s phone interrupts him. T looks at him apologetically and pulls it out of his jacket.

When he sees who is calling, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, I have to take that.”

“Go on.” Rich says and gets his cigarettes from his suitcase.

“Love? – What? No.” Taron contorts his face and leans forward, rubbing his face and bracing his head on his hand. “Why should I tell you where we’re going?” He keeps his voice down, but Rich hears him anyway. Richard frowns and stops searching for his lighter, listening in.

“Oh, now you’re being ridiculous. I never even gave you the slightest thing to worry about.” Taron gets up groaning, annoyed, and walks over to the window, bringing some distance between him and Richard. “Listen, I am not the one in this relationship who likes to flirt with others while you’re right next to me.” he says madly and shakes his head. “He is my mate, Dan. I’m not going to fuck him.” He bursts out suddenly and throws his arms up in the air, clearly annoyed. “Yeah be mad at me if that helps you. I have to go now, bye.” Taron ends the call mocking him and Richard watches him closely. Rich got those kinds of answers at the end of a call while they were together. But he never saw Taron’s annoyed face after it, mocking him. Thinking of how he was the reason for that face before, he couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” T asks confused and puts his phone aside again.

“The thought of you looking like that when we used to talk on the phone and I pissed you off amuses me a bit.” Rich admits and grins when he sees Taron fighting back a grin. “Someone jealous?”

“Yeah, because we all know I’m a cheater. I mean I’m with Richard Madden, who wouldn’t do that?” Taron groans and Richard raises his left eyebrow shortly. “Never date someone who is three years younger than you! You only welcome nothing but problems.”

Richard raises his eyebrows completely now and looks at him, remaining silent for a moment. “So that’s the reason we aren’t a couple anymore? Now it makes sense.” his voice is full of sarcasm and he shrugs his shoulders.

Taron’s mouth falls open wide. “Oh my god, you’re right. I am three years younger than you. I’m sorry.” he says and bites his lip.

The Scottish chuckles and grabs his hotel room key. “I’m just teasing you, don’t worry.” He nods towards the door. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah let’s go.” T sighs and steps outside, watching Richard from the side while he locks the door. Every movement is still so familiar, and Rich was just as attractive as he was before. But their loving relationship was over and Taron wouldn’t risk his current relationship by spending too much time with Rich. Their wounds healed and they became best friends again.

Richard looks at him observantly in the elevator and bites his lower lip. “You wanna talk about it? Let the frustration out?”

“I don’t wanna bore you with that.” T admits laughing and rubs his face. “Isn’t it like a sign seeing me now fighting with him? Like, you were right about certain things.”

Richard shakes his head. “I don’t see it that way, T. We both had some struggles, and decided together to end it when it became too much.” he shrugs his shoulders.

“He seemed nice when I met him a year ago. And as long as you’re happy, it’s all I could wish for you. But I won’t start searching for things you did with me when you fight with him.”

Taron nods slowly and smiles weakly. “Thanks. But I’d prefer hearing about your year than talking about my little struggle today.” 

Taron drives them to the center of London. They decide to go and drink coffee somewhere in the inner city. They settle for their favorite little cafe and sit down outside at a small table, secluded in the background where they could relax. Sharing some funny stories from set and memories does them both good and Taron blends out the thoughts of his boyfriend being jealous and mad at home.

Richard looks around casually and spots a guy that looks a lot like Taron’s boyfriend. But he was with another guy, so Rich looks a little closer. “Taron.” He curiously says and nods his head in their direction. T turns around and shock settles in his face when he sees his boyfriend kissing another man. Then disbelief and hurt settle in. The two men make their way to the café, holding hands and Taron turns around quickly.

He looks at Richard speechless and swallows hard. “Did he just -.” Rich watches them sit down a few tables away from them.

“I’m sorry, Taron.” he looks at him and sees pure hurt in his pale face, sadness in his puppy eyes. He sees how something breaks inside Taron as he bites his lower lip and blinks a few times, taking a deep breath. He growls lowly and feels the urge to protect him welling up inside. Nothing or no one hurt Taron when he was around! “Bastard.” Richard gets up and Taron tries to hold him back, following him quickly.

“No, Rich, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, Taron. He accused you of sleeping with me, while he is the real cheater. No one treats you like this.” Richard says and Taron can see how mad he is. He walks over to the table and taps him on his shoulder. “Excuse me, Dan. Let me introduce you to your boyfriend and well you know me. Why don’t you tell Taron, who your lovely company is?”

“Fuck off Richard.” Dan growls and looks at the man sitting opposite him, shrugging his shoulders.

The man looks at him shocked. “You fucking asshole, using me to cheat!” he turns to Taron who stands next to Richard, remaining silent. “I am so sorry, he told me he broke up with you.”

T just nods weakly and the man gets up and leaves. “You know what asshole? Taron wouldn’t break up with you here or cause a scene, he’s too nice and caring for that. But he doesn’t deserve this or someone as shitty as you. I had my own ups and downs with T, but we would have never come up with such an idea. It’s ridiculous how you even managed to get him when he clearly deserves someone who loves him.” Without fully recognizing it, Taron moved closer to Richard and their hands touched. Rich grabs it shortly, squeezing it lovingly. “I love him, more than he knows. Even after all the shit we went through, I am still hopelessly in love with him, and I wish I could have him back and treat him right. It’s a shame, out of all he could have, he got you.”

Dan looks at him unimpressed. “Are you done, Mr. Perfect Blue Eyes?”

“Why, Dan?” Taron asks low-voiced, and Richard recognizes the slight shaking in it almost instantly. T was on the edge of letting his feelings flow freely.

“You know in the beginning it was fun. Accompanying you to premieres and stuff, meeting all your famous friends and so on. And when you, the little fool fell for me, I reached my destination. I kinda grew liking you, not bad in bed as well.” Richard looks at Taron, who’s struggling to keep a straight face and hide his hurt. “But it gets boring with you being away for work, so I searched for some guys I could fuck while you weren’t around.” he shrugs his shoulders as if he just told him how the weather would be tomorrow.

Taron feels the tears burning in his eyes. “You used me. I trusted you and you fucking used me.” he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, sorry bout that.” Dan watches him coldly with his brown eyes. “And you’re an awful boyfriend, just ask Richard.” And with that, he turns around and walks away.

Taron walks back to their table and gets their jackets. He brings Richard his, and throws some money on the table to pay. “I need to get my stuff from his apartment. It’s not much.” he explains and wipes away a tear that escaped his eyes. They remain silent on the car ride home, Taron’s hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel.

“You want me to help you?” Richard asks carefully when he stops the car in front of his apartment. T nods and gets out, suddenly looking immensely drained.

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

Richard steps into the bathroom to bring Taron his bag of clothes. Taron stands there, bracing himself on the sink and shakes his head slightly.

“Can I help you with anything else?” He asks just above a whisper.

But Taron is too caught up in his emotions. “Three years, Richard. He fooled me three fucking years. And I thought I was the actor, not him.” His eyes are full of tears and they drop down onto his hands and sweater. He bites his lip and shakes his head. “I am so fucking stupid!” he chokes out and the tears start running down his face. He quickly collects everything in the bathroom and throws it in his travel bag. “I wasted three years for a fucking lie and believed in it, I’m such an idiot.” his voice cracks.

“Taron-” Richard says softly, hurt by Taron’s sadness.

“He’s right I’m awful. I lost you and fell for him.” T holds back a sob and tries to wipe his cheeks clean. But new tears follow and he looks devastated. “I’m so fucking stupid!” he sobs and buries his face in his hands, shaking.

“Hey, come here.” Richard says low-voiced and steps closer to him. Taron wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face in his shoulder, sobbing. Richard wraps one arm around his lower back holding him close. His other hand strokes over Taron’s head. “It’s not your fault, he is a dick.” Richard runs his fingers through Taron’s fluffy hair, and his heart aches hearing him sob. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, and don’t you dare believe the shit he said.” Rich presses a light kiss in his hair and hugs him tight. “It’s okay.” he whispers as Taron holds onto him tighter, shaking heavily during his sobs.

Taron pulls back and wipes his cheeks again uselessly. He grabs his bag frustrated and gets the last of his things from the bathroom. “No matter what I do, I mess it up.” he growls and walks outside of the bathroom. When he sees a picture frame of him and Dan, he walks over, takes it and throws it on the floor. “Hope you step on it when you come back!”

“You should take the shatters and put it under the covers.” Rich suggests with a smirk.

Taron laughs and looks at him through tears. “Could take us to court for that.” They stand still for a minute when T takes a deep breath. “How many guys has he had in there before I visited in the evening?”

“Don’t know. But I guess they were absolutely horrible in bed. I mean he stayed three years.” As soon as he says it, he bites his lip and looks at Taron. “I am so sorry.” Taron looks at him shocked for a moment but then he giggles.

“You’re right, you dumbass.”

That evening, Richard lies on the comfortable sofa in Taron’s apartment. T lies between his legs and his head rests on his chest. They watch a movie, but only pay attention to it half-heartedly. Rich thinks about Taron trusting him, and taking him home with him after such a terrible day. But also, needing his comfort. Taron feels bad because of what was revealed today, but having Richard here lessens the pain a bit. T smirks softly when he remembers how Richard fought for him. “Richard?” he sits up and looks at him.

“Yeah?” he asks and looks at him with a soft expression in his eyes. Taron’s eyes are still a bit red and puffy, his fluffy hair is a mess and he is wearing his glasses now. Damn, this man was such a beauty even on his worst days.

“Did you mean what you said today to Dan?” 

“That he’s an asshole?” Rich asks frowning. 

“No!” T giggles and looks down at his hands. “About me, us.” 

“Oh. Yeah, every single word.” Richard looks at him with a small smile. “I was mad, you know I don’t lie when I’m mad.” T nods, knowing all too well how direct Richard could be when he was angry.

“So you would come back and try it out again?” Taron asks timidly and plays with his hands now. He can’t look him in the eyes and stares at his lap.  Rich hesitantly lifts his chin with his fingers.

“Yes. But I won’t use this situation here to get you back just because your heart was broken.” 

Taron grabs his hand. “I know,” he whispers and strokes his knuckles. “But would you when I’m over it? Please be honest.”

“I’ve never lied to you before, T. And yes I would. But I think we should let your heart heal and not take any big steps too quickly.” Richard looks into the puppy eyes of his best friend and can’t fight the urge to lift his hand and stroke over his cheek. “Take your time, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t deserve you. I’m awful in relationships.” Taron says and looks down on his lap again. 

Richard cups his face and forces him to look at him. “Don’t believe the shit he was telling you. You were an amazing boyfriend but we were too busy, too caught up in our own lives and that constant stress led to fighting.” Rich pulls him on his lap, seeing he needs some comfort. He rubs his back smoothly and plays with the hair at the back of his neck. “We didn’t break up because we didn’t love each other anymore. We broke up because we simply hadn’t spent any time together anymore. We couldn’t even relax.” Taron stares into his beautiful blue eyes and knows he’s right. The adoring love he sees in his deep blue ocean eyes and the love he feels himself was never gone. They were forced to move on and hide it.

“Thank you for standing up for me today.” 

“I’ll always protect you.” Richard answers and smiles at him.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” Taron asks timidly and smiles softly when Richard nods. He leans forward and stares at Richard’s full lips. Rich lets his eyes wander all over his face and comes closer. “Just a bit -.” T breathes out and kisses him lovingly. Both moan at the feeling.

Richard looks at him as he breaks the kiss. “We’re gonna take all the time we need, alright?”

“I love you, Richie.”

“I love you too, bub.” Rich says and Taron cuddles back into him. There was no rush, just the old love and comfort coming back between them. And they both know they would make sure it stayed that way.