What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature 

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

“Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

-/-

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Come What May

Part of The Greatest Thing

Christian x OC

Moulin Rouge Fanfic

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On the morning of Christmas Eve, Christian spent his time practicing his proposal with Toulouse.

"Mon ami, knowing you, you will practice this speech a thousand times, but when you go to say it to her, you'll end up improvising," Toulouse teased.

"Toulouse, this is serious business. I can't propose to the most wonderful woman in the world and not have it be as wonderful as she deserves," he said adamantly.

"You are proposing out of love, no?" Toulouse asked.

"Well, yes, of course. That's the only reason I would ever propose," he replied.

"Then it is already wonderful," Toulouse winked. "Now, get out of here. I have someone coming over."

Christian shook his head and went downstairs to his own apartment, knocking first. "Is it safe to come in?"

"If you're asking if I've finished wrapping your gift yet, then yes," Estelle chuckled.

Christian grinned and walked in, admiring the brightly wrapped box sitting above the fireplace. "What do you wish to do today?"

"I have to run a few errands in town. Annalise usually sends me a telegram today, so I wish to go pick it up from the office before they close for the holiday. I shouldn't be long, though," she replied, tugging on her coat. Gently, she tipped up to kiss his cheek.

"Are you sure you'll be warm enough in that?" Christian asked before picking up a scrap of fabric and wrapping it around her neck. "Here, take my scarf."

"Thank you, Love. I'll be back soon," she blushed, heading out into the cold December morning.

The walk to the telegraph office wasn't a far one, but she liked to take her time and appreciate Paris coated in gently falling snow. At least, until that snow turned to brown slush from the heavy foot traffic in Montmartre. Upon reaching the office, the telegraph operator who had come to know her quite well over the past few months grimaced as he handed her the telegram.

"I don't enjoy that look, Louis," she teased.

"Mademoiselle, if you read your letter from your friend, you would understand why," he sighed.

Estelle tilted her head at him, and then opened the letter. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Her father was here in Paris with Mary, looking for her. Annalise had included the hotel they were staying at. The jig was up.

"Merry Christmas, Mademoiselle Devereux," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas, Louis," Estelle replied, all mirth gone. She walked back out into the cold before catching a carriage to the hotel. Although holidays were usually spent with one's family, this was one reunion that Estelle was not looking forward to.

The driver helped her out of the carriage, and she stared up at the hotel with dread. Taking a deep breath and letting the air chill her lungs, she steeled herself to walk right up to the front desk and ask for their room number.

"Well, I knew this would catch up with me sooner or later," she sighed as she knocked on their hotel room door.

In a moment, the door was thrown open by her sister who quickly pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, sister. I tried to convince him not to come, but you know how he is when he's in a mood," she quickly whispered.

Estelle swallowed and stepped into the room, spying her father staring out the window with his back towards her. "Merry Christmas, Father."

"Father?" he asked. "Is that what you call the man who raised you to know better? The man who's trust you betrayed?" He turned to look at her. "What were you thinking?"

"I enjoyed Paris too much to leave," she murmured.

"Do you know what it's like to hear about how your daughter is running around in another country, living with a man that she isn't even married to? The scandal, Estelle! You have brought shame upon our name," her father seethed.

"No one else knew except for Annalise and William," she said adamantly.

"No one else but them and the whores of Paris," her father shot back. "You've made me look like a fool!"

"You were never supposed to find out like this," she admitted.

"How was I supposed to find out?" her father yelled, "When you came back married and pregnant with some foolish blowhard for a husband?"

"He's not like that!" she cried.

"No, he's just a society reject that doesn't know how to accept the way things are," her father shook his head. "You're coming home immediately, and you will marry whomever I choose."

"All my things are at the apartment," Estelle replied.

"Mary will fetch them," her father said with a curt nod to his youngest daughter. "I do not trust you to leave my sight again." Her father turned on his heel and went into the room he had rented for himself.

Mary gave Estelle a sympathetic look, "Elle, I'm so sorry."

Estelle's knees gave out as she started to sob, landing her helplessly on the carpet. "Is it so wrong to want to be happy?"

Mary pulled her older sister into her, smoothing her hand over Estelle's curls as she rocked her back and forth. "No, it isn't wrong," Mary murmured.

"How did he even find out?" Estelle sniffled.

"He sent a possible match to Annalise's for the holidays, hoping to spark a relationship. When Mr. Danvers arrived and you were not there, he telegrammed father to ask if he was playing a joke. Father then wrote to Annalise's Aunt who pressed her for the truth. We took the first boat out once he knew where you were," she sighed.

Estelle stood up on shaking legs and made her way to her father's room, walking in and shutting the door. "Why do you care about who I marry if I'm happy?"

Her father looked at her and sighed. "If I tell you the truth, will you come back without issue?"

Estelle looked down, "Perhaps."

"Come, sit," her father murmured, gesturing to the chair across from him. Hesitantly, Estelle settled in the chair, waiting for him to speak.

"We had to sell the country house," her father started.

"Because it didn't make sense to keep a house we didn't use," Estelle replied.

"No," her father sighed. "We had to sell it to help pay for your mother's medical bills. When the profits from the sale were not enough, I had to sell stock in the shop as collateral. Then, when your mother passed, her funeral cost us even more. I tried my best to keep us afloat, but we are barely able to maintain the lifestyle we are living."

Estelle looked down, "So you are using your eldest daughter as a way to broker a deal to keep you afloat."

"Estelle, this is not just about you. Think about Mary. Should we lose standing, she may never see a London Season. She may never find a suitable match, otherwise," her father replied.

"I see," she replied, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. "This man that you sent to Italy, that is who you wish for me to marry?"

"Mr. Danvers is a good man. He is heir to a Duchy in Carlisle," her father explained. "He may not be Mr. Thompson, but you would be comfortable financially."

Comfortable. Oh, how she hated that word. She nodded, getting up and leaving her father, staring miserably after her.

"So, I am to marry Mr. Danvers, then," Estelle informed her sister, swiping her eyes.

"I suppose so," Mary replied.

"When you go to fetch my things, would you give Christian a note from me?" she asked softly.

"Of course," her sister smiled sympathetically, taking her to the room they would be sharing.

Estelle settled into the desk and began to write. She started with an apology, an apology for not being able to be there to tell him this in person, an apology for undoubtedly breaking his heart just as her heart was currently breaking. She begged him to forgive her, and to understand that marrying Mr. Danvers was something she needed to do for her family. Then, she ended by wishing him a Merry Christmas, and telling him that the last few months that they spent on borrowed time were the best of her life. When she finished, she delicately folded the note, wrote the address on it, and handed it to Mary. She held her lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling. Wordlessly, her sister nodded, taking the note and going out into the December cold.

When a knock sounded at the door, Christian went to open it with a tilted grin, "You were gone a while, I was beginning to worry."

Then, his smile dropped from his face when he saw who was on the other side, "Mary? I don't... I don't understand."

Mary swallowed, handing him the note. "I'm here for her things," she murmured, gently squeezing his arm before walking into the apartment to begin packing her sister's belongings.

Christian stood dumbfounded as he watched her put away every trace of Estelle into her suitcases. "I don't understand. Why isn't she here? Why are you taking her things?"

"Read the note," Mary sighed, catching a glimpse of the portrait of her sister above the mantle.

He moved over to the seat by the fire, needing warmth to keep him from shivering as a cold fear set in. Gently, he unfolded the note, feeling a pit form in his stomach as he recognized her handwriting. He sat in silence, reading her words over and over again, not noticing that Mary had finished packing.

"Christian, I need you to understand that none of this has to do with what she feels about you," Mary stated. "My sister loves you, and I sincerely believe that she always will."

Christian looked up at her with unshed tears in his eyes, letting the note fall from his hand to the floor, "We were courting each other. Did she tell you that?" He came over to hold her arms as he started to sob, "Mary, I love her. I was going to propose. I've had the ring for weeks. I... I can't let her go. I'm not myself without her."

Mary gave him a sympathetic look. She closed her eyes and exhaled, knowing that what she was about to say would hurt him. "Christian, look around you. This is your world. This isn't Estelle's. She needs security. What kind of life could you two have like this? How would you start a family like this?"

He looked down, letting go as if she'd slapped him. "You're right. She deserves better. I know that. I'm just a penniless writer."

Mary pulled the luggage behind her, stopping at the doorway to look back over her shoulder at him. "Merry Christmas, Christian."

Turning away, he couldn't watch as she dragged the evidence of Estelle out of the apartment. He looked around at how sparse and cold it felt. It wasn't a home anymore, it was a hovel. His eyes fell on the gift that Estelle had just wrapped for him that morning. The bright red ribbon mocking him with its joviality. He picked up the note from the floor and ran his hand through his hair, looking for a sign of it all just being a game to her, because it wasn't to him. She was everything to him. If it was so easy for her to just pick up and marry another man, then did she ever really love him at all? He wanted to throw the note into the fire, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not if these were the last words he'd ever get from her. Instead, he reverently folded the note up and placed it in the drawer on his side of the bed, next to the box holding the engagement ring. With a shake of his head, he closed the drawer and came back to the fireplace. His hand hovered in front of the box, afraid to touch it, afraid to ruin the carefully wrapped paper, but inside it was tearing him up. He needed to know. He gently picked up the box and sat in his chair with it in his lap. Moments passed as he looked at it before pulling the ribbon loose and letting it open. Then, he unfolded all of her careful creases until he was looking at a black box, not noticing the folded piece of paper that was under the box. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to find a pocket-watch with a windmill carved into it, the symbol of the Moulin Rouge. He pressed the latch, opening the watch to find that she had engraved inside.

"Come what may," he murmured, repeating the words in the inscription. A small smile formed on his face as his finger traced over the small engraved star underneath the words. He brought the pocket-watch up to his lips and kissed it, feeling the ticking of the clock against his lips almost as steadily as a heartbeat. After tucking it in his pocket, he noticed the small scrap of paper that had been under the box and unfolded it. This was a better note than the last, but it drove the knife deeper. She told him about how she loved him, and had for years. She lamented that some day they would have to leave their bubble of Paris, her inspiration for the watch since she wanted to find a way for time to be on their side for once. She told him how she dreaded going back home to disappoint her father, but that she didn't care if he was disappointed, because ultimately she was happy. Lastly, she explained the inscription on the watch, telling him about how she had thought long and hard about what saying best described her love for him, eventually settling on 'Come what may' since she knew deep down that she would love him no matter what until the day that she died. Christian swiped a tear that had slid down his cheek without his knowledge as he pulled the watch back out with a new appreciation for the engraving.

His eyes shifted up to the painting of her that Toulouse had made, a sad smile on his face, "Come what may."

What fits in Men’s Pockets

Or five times Q had exactly what they needed  

Q-branch always has in stock what an agent may need - Q is not so different.

wordcount: 3477

Q branch had been all but deserted when James returned from Bangkok that night, leaving him and Q alone at Q’s desk. Bond had just returned lost some equipment and Q had made him sign some document, confirming the loss. Apparently that lost gun had been one gun too many.  

"Do you have a pen?" He asked, looking the desk over. There was Q's laptop, the desk lamp, the mug of earl grey that had been cooling for ages now and the papers themselves, but nothing else. Without looking up Q pulled a single pencil from his pocket. "There you go."

"Dear Quartermaster, you astound me! Who would have thought you even knew what a pen is. One could think you had gone full digital by now."

"Please Bond, leave the banter for times when I'm haven't been working for two days straight. Everyone knows that you don't have to fix what isn't broken. Pencils are an essential, I will admit."  

"What are you doing here anyways. Everyone else is at home with their families."

"...I  wonder why. Usually we have a skeleton crew over night...."

"Q. It’s Christmas."

"Huh. Merry Christmas Bond."

“Merry Christmas. You know what could be your gift to me?”

“You’re not getting the Aston.”

"Thats not what I meant. I have a first name, you could use it sometime. If you stop calling my Bond, I'll take you out for dinner."

“Was that supposed to be a compelling argument?”

***

Bond Eve and Q were on a mission.

It sounded like the start of a terrible joke, but was really just a rather annoying affair.

Bond was supposed to seduce someone who knew something, and he had, spectacular so. Now the woman was head over heels for him.

"I told her I wanted to break up but she woudn't listen!"

"Honestly, I was wondering why that as never happened before."

"Not helping Moneypenny."

"Just act like you’re cheating on her. That should do a great deal." murmured Q from behind his laptop. He was working on something and only here in the first place because they had needed a tech expert at the location. Eve was only here to his protection.

"Great input Q, how do I convince a woman I have know for two days that I'm cheating on her? We aren't even in a relationship!"

"... You know you could just kiss Eve in front of her of her or wear a shirt with a lipsticks stain. That should work beautifully."  

"Well, I'm not kissing you." Eve stated, voice laced with disgust.

"What, too old for you?" Bond lifted an eyebrow.

"Too male." retorted Eve.

"You know what Moneypenny? That explains so much--."

"You should be trying to find a lipstick right now 007."

"Oh right yes. Eve, may I borrow your spare lipstick? I seem to have lost mine."

"Why would I carry spare lipsticks around James."

"I don't know. Why shouldn't you."

Q looked up from his laptop. "What seems to be the problem?"

"James thinks all women carry around lipsticks all the time."

"Well. Dont you?" Q asked adjusting his glasses with his spare hand.

"Of course not. Assuming that I do that is mysogynistic Q."

"Why would that be mysogenistic? Don't people carry around stuff like that all the time? You know lipsticks, breath mints, that sort of thing?"

Eve rolled her eyes. "Do you happen to have a breath mint for me then?"

Q hesitated. "...No."

"There you go."

"But I do have a peppermint gum. And a lipstick, if you still need it." He fumbled around his parka and pulled out a small black and gold container. A lipstick, Eve realised. James eyed him with interest.

"Now I want to know why you have a lipstick. Because thats a good one. Mac isn't exactly cheap and that colour isn't for everyone."

Q sighed and handed the Lipstick to him. "Bond, please refrain from commenting my appearance. I know I look young for my age, you've told me before."

"Only when you stop calling me Bond. I have a first name you know."

"I know. I read your file, remember?"

Eve sighed and pinched thuebridge of her nose. “Fellas, if you'd be so kind. We need to ruin James’ shirt before his girlfriend finds him."

***

Q was pissed. His brother had come back from the dead.

Bond hadn't even know the Quartermaster had family, let alone a brother who knew how to fake his death and had to use his knowledge.

Yet here they were, at 2am I a dingy back alley in inner London.

The street sign read Bakerstreet and the brass lettering on the front for of the building they were about to break into informed pedestrians that this was number 221B.

Bond wasn't ignorant. They had been in Q branch, when a notification had popped up on one of the monitors. Q had grabbed his parka and James’ arm and off they were. On they way the Quartermaster had explained.

His brother had come back from the dead, had neglected to inform Q of his continued existence - something he apparently should have done ages ago - and now Bond was standing next to a furiously calm Quartermaster in the back alley of a house Q apparently knew well enough. There was only one way this night could develop.

The Quartermaster was currently looking up at the darkened windows of the first floor, obviously trying to decide between two, as his eyes flickered back and forth between them. "Alright. Bond, give me a hand will you?" he gestured up at the fire escape that was tugged away to the left side, ladder secured at the corner of the small iron balcony.

"If I'm helping ou break into your dead brothers flat you should at least start calling me James first."

"James, a hand please."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You need to lift me up so I can reach the ladder." Q pushed his glasses up his nose. If he was lucky the darkness would hide his blush. "Before you say anything, I am aware you could jump high enough to reach the ladder. Sadly that would be extremely noisy, so if you'd be so kind--"

James folded his hands together and Q put his left foot in them. "On the count of three I'm going to push myself up and you're going to throw me as hard as you can. I'll let the ladder down from above."

James nodded in confirmation. If breaking and entering was what it took to get Q to stop calling him Bond he would take it. He started to count. "One... two... three." he hoisted Q up, effectively pushing Q to the height of the balcony, where he grabbed onto the steel bars of the railing.

Q pulled himself up and climbed over it, making almost no noise. Slowly he walked to the far end of the fire escape and carefully let the latter down, until it was within James’ reach.

Thirty seconds later everything was back in place again, with the slight difference that Q and James were now standing in front of a small, milk glass window with a white painted wooden Frame. There was no lock.

Q eyes the frame for a second.

"How exactly did you plan to get in? I would lend you my lock picks but if there is no lock that doesn't exactly help." asked James, voice low.

"Don’t be silly James. I have my own lockpicks."

"Why didn't we go in trough the front door then."

"That’s tasteless. Everyone knows doors are or people with no imagination." He bent down and untied his shoelaces, slipped his shoes off and then handed them to Bond. "Hold this."

"Q what-"

Q shushed him and proceeded to pull a small crowbar from one of his parkas’ many pockets.

"Why-- " James sighed. "Nevermind."

Q smiled sweetly and patted him on the shoulder. "Now, that’s the right attitude."

Within two minutes of careful and almost-silent meddling the old frame gave in and Q and James were standing in a small bathroom.

The tiles were white, the walls olive green and there were two toothbrushes sitting in a glass on the sink next to a small container containing some kind of hair product. Next to ancient looking bathtub that doubled as a shower there was a bootle of shower gel and shampoo. It was sparse.

Q stepped towards the door, which was only halfway shut.

James followed him, careful to make no noise, as he was still wearing his shoes. They made their way to the kitchen and living room.

Q took his shoes back and sat them down near what appeared to be the front door of the small flat. Then he gestured towards the couch. James took the hint and sat down while Q made his way to another door, which was shut completely. He knocked.

James rolled his eyes and slumped into the couch. After a few seconds there was the dry rustle of fresh sheets being pushed back, then steps. The door opened and a tall man appeared in the doorway.

Standing there, in the doorframe of a bedroom at 2 am, they looked eerily similar. Q held out his hand and the other shook it.

"Sherlock."

"Q. What a joy to see you well. What is your SIS agent doing on my couch?"

***

Everyone was ecstatic. They had just completed an important mission and It was Friday night. Where else could they have ended up but a pub.

The entirety of Q-branch as well as the double-ohs, Eve and Tanner had cramped into the closest establishment, celebrating the success of the day.

Q and Eve had taken over an entire table at the very back of the pub. After half an hour Tanner had sat down too and a few minutes later even Bond had joined their small circle.

Q and Eve were arguing about someone while Bill and James were trying to understand what was going on.

"Q wants to introduce me to someone, even though he knows I'm not interested in dating right now."

Bond frowned. "Didn't you say just yesterday you were forever in love with the scary one, what’s her name --"

Q sighed. " Morgana Pendragon, Duchess of Sussex, drama queen extraordinaire. Yes. But hear me out --"

"I don’t want to date."

"Unless its the duchess, yes. But please give her a chance? I'll give you her number and you guys can text, I bet you'd love her."

"Q, unless you have Morgana Pendragon’s phone number hidden away in that ridiculous parka of yours, I won't text anyone tonight, alright?"

"...uhm." Q looked uncomfortable.

Eve stared at him. "You’re kidding."

Bill raised his eyebrows gaze flickering between the two. "Wait, what’s going on."

"Q. Please tell me you didn't hack the Buckingham palace’s wifi and stole the phone number of the King’s daughter." Eve asked, suddenly very tense. Bond couldn't tell wether it was from nervousness or excitement.

Q didn't say anything.

Bill tapped his shoulder. "Q, you didn't do that right?"

"I didn't. Why would I do that?"

Eve shrugged, a bit disappointed. "I know you've done worse things for less."

"No I mean, why would I hack the wifi."

James laughed. "Moneypenny, how much exactly has he had to drink? Because I don’t think we should be explaining tech to the quartermaster of MI6."

Eve eyed Q suspiciously. "Not that much. Q are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. But why would I hack the palace’s wifi?"

Bill rolled his eyes. "According to Eve that’s how you would get Morgana Pendragon’s number." "

I don't need to hack the wifi for that! Has all this time working with me taught you nothing? --- I have Morgana's number on my mobile. She gave it to me ages ago.”

The others stared at him in disbelief.

“Why are you looking at me like that! I have lots of numbers -- Bill, first person that comes to mind, who is it.”

Tanner, looking not at all convinced, if a little intrigued, thought for a second before blurting out. “The Prime minister.”

Q rolled his eyes. Then he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and began scrolling trough the contacts. After a few seconds he turned his phone around to show it to the others. The display showed the name ‘A. Holmes’ and below it a Londoner number.

Eve sucked in a shaky breath. Bill and James turned towards her, clearly confused. Just because the name matched didn’t mean that it was actually the number of the Prime minister of England. She exhaled slowly. “Thats his number. It’s in M’s contact list.”

“Told you so.” Q huffed.

Bond seemed exited. “What about normal people! Do you know a John Hamish Watson? He saved my life in Afghanistan, few years back.”

Q scrolled trough his contacts until he found the right one, then showed it to James. “To be honest, I didn’t know his name was Hamish.”

“You know him Personally?”

”Why else would I have his number? He’s married to my brother.”

Eve took a large gulp of her drink. Bill just muttered something about a small world before emptying his beer.

James was smiling like a child on Christmas. “What else do you carry around! Do you have a knife? A screwdriver? Ohhh -- a flamethrower! Please tell me you carry around a flamethrower.”

Q looked pained but pulled out a metal cylinder. “We developed it some time ago. Can reach up to 500°C, depending on handling the reach is approximately 4 to 6 meter. Happy?”

James nodded vigorously stood, walked around the table and lifted a fumbling Q up from his chair.

“Wha--”

James smirked, carrying Q towards the door. Everyone who wasn’t entirely drunk by now stared at them in confusion. “We’re going to test out that flamethrower. Now.”

“But why do you have to carry me!”

“Because you’re the adult supervision, and because I want to.”

***

Q was in the field. He didn't like it one bit.

Contrary to what every double-oh seemed to believe he was trained as an agent, which at the time had been a simple issue of security. He was important and powerful. He had to be able to defend himself.

Now he was sneaking behind Bond trough the special security sector of the  biggest gene-manipulation company on the planet. Unofficially. Officially it was the third biggest seed producer on the market.

Q was slowly getting tired of the whole sneaking thing. Due to a week of planning, mostly filled with programming and some hacking he was now able to remote control the cameras in the building via his phone.

He had originally wanted to bring his laptop but together with the special equipment but there had been no space left in his bag what so ever.

He pressed a sequence of keys on his phone screen and the cameras in the next hallway over went dark. He gave Bond the signal for go and they went in, enabling the cameras behind them as they went.

Q searched the signs on the doors for the right one. If his calculations were correct it would be in the optimal position, laying almost at the centre of the building right below the high risk laboratories. Finally he spotted the right door and pointed, so Bond knew where they were heading. Q walked up to the door - non descriptive, generic, off-white - and opened to it and stepped inside.

The automated lights went on.

Bond, who was directly behind him stared. "Q are you sure --"

They were in the loos.

"Yes I'm sure. now help me." Q had sat down his messenger bag and was fumbling with the zipper of his black, MI6 issued tactical gear.

"My, my Quartermaster, how am I supposed to say no to that?"

Q flushed. "Not with my clothes 007, with the sink! We're going to steal it!"

"First of alI, am so coming back to that first thing later. Secondly: What?"

"The sink on the far left. Deinstall it."

"I don't have any plumbing gear, Q. I have a Walther and a com. And the com is pretty worthless when you're not on the other side."

Q’s complexion grew even darker at the flattery. "I have plumbing gear." He had finally managed to take of his jacket. He laid it out on the floor and opened a zipper at the top inner lining.

Inside there were two wrenches - apparently exactly the two sizes they needed - as well some other gear couldn't have named to save his life. They were all neatly held in place by rubber bands. Q only grabbed the jacket by the sleeves and dragged it to the very end of the room.

Q got to work, James assisting where he could, and within seven minutes the sink was laying on the floor. "What now? I'm assuming were not just here to steal this beautiful sink."

"Well we can't just leave it, can we?"

“We can't just take it either. They’ll notice it’s gone by tomorrow morning. Which is in three hours."

Q rolled his eyes and scoffed. He picked up his bag and opened the latch. There was sink inside. It looked exactly like the one they had just deinstalled. “It’s explosive.” Q said matter-of-factly, as though that would explain anything.

James nodded offhandedly. “You know what? I’m not even surprised.”

“Good. We have 2.75 hours left before the first shift arrives, so if you’d be so kind?”

“Of course.” James sighed.

***

James was sitting in Q branch. This was not unusual. He often hung around during off time to spend time with the minions, or so he claimed.

In reality he just shadowed Q.

It was an average Thursday night in one of the top secret services on the planet and James was tired.

Not hallucinatory tired though. He was pretty sure the blue police box had actually just appeared out of thin air.

He shrugged. This as Q branch. Q had everything under control.

"Q. A blue box just appeared out of nowhere. Should I be worried or get the kettle going?"

Q, who had just stowed away some paperwork in his desks drawers, appeared in the doorway. "Neither. He’s just here to pick something up."

"Of course love."

Q blushed and walked up the box instead. He knocked twice and waited. James stood and walked over.

"Q, love, please tell me there isn't someone inside the box."

Q rolled his eyes. "Only if you stop calling me love"

"Only if you agree to go get dinner with me."

The door opened. An old man with a shock of white hair stepped out. Behind him was a girl who appeared to be in her early twenties.

"Doctor please tell me we're not-"

"We're not."

"Then where-"

"MI6."

Her eyes went wide but she only uttered a quiet ‘Alright’ and closed the blue door behind her.

The white haired man who had just appeared out of a box which had appeared out of thin air extended his hand towards Q.

Q took it. "Nice to see you again." He said conversationally. "Bond. Meet the Doctor. Doctor, meet Bond."

The doctor nodded at James.

James nodded at the doctor.

The doctor scoffed. "I thought you Englisch were supposed to be polite." His accent was thick and clearly Scottish.

James smiled thinly. It was his I-am-amused-but-i-don’t-show-it smile. "I'm Scottish." He let some of his accent shine through.

Q turned to the girl. She wore a leather jacket and jeans and her coily hair was braided down the back of her head. "I'm Bill. I’m just tagging along."

James put his head to one side. "Nice to meet you Bill. I'm Bond. James Bond."

Q Rolled his eyes.

"And this--" James continued, "--is the lovely Q. He won't go on a date with me, although he clearly want to, so I call him love until he agrees." Bill nodded and turned to the doctor. "Why are we here again?"

"Do I need an excuse to visit some friend and-" he looked Bond over, "-friends of friends?"

"Yes. We were in the middle of something, remember? The puddle? My trapped girlfriend?"

The Doctor rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Ah yesss. Q if you could?”

Q handed him a small pen-like device. Except it wasn't a pen.

"Thanks. You'll get it back in one minute. Well one minute for you. We'll be off!" He turned around and strutted back into the box.

Bill followed him.

The doors closed and the box disappeared.

"Love, that was the single most weirdest thing that has ever happened to me and I'm a literal spy."

Q sighed. "I'll explain over dinner."

Pencils

A prompt that myself and @gilby-the-geek-girl​ decided to do a ‘write this in your style’ involving Logicality roommates and Ticonderoga #2 Pencils

You can read her’s here.

Also check out her main AU that its based in on AO3 here.

If you’re interested here are some links to my work as well:

The Collection (My Oneshots)

My Dearest Procyon (My Multi-Chapter Magical!AU)

Other works by me

Now! Lets get this party started!!!!

Logan gave a small curse as another one of his pencils broke inside his cheap sharpener. He tilted the small plastic container to get a better look inside. Sure enough, a large piece of lead was stuck inside the small cone, pressing against the razor’s edge. He wouldn’t be able to resharpen his pencil until it was removed.

As he took the small pencil sharpener apart, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Perhaps, he could rearrange his budget to allow him to purchase some better writing utensils. Patton had already convinced him to spend some extra money on the ‘B2p’s. He had been right about them. The pens were 89% recycled water bottles, which was good for the environment, and they wrote very smoothly, which helped ease the pain that writing caused.

Carpal tunnel syndrome was far more unpleasant that Logan had expected it to be. Of course, he hadn’t expected to enjoy the tingling or numbness, but the sheer amount of pain it caused was staggering. The simple act of holding a pen longer than half an hour was something he could no longer do without the help of an anti inflammatory. His all night note taking sessions were now cut by more than half, and that was on a good night with a decent writing implement.

Surgery was possible, but it would pull him out of school for far too long, and cost more than he was willing to spend without the proper insurance. He was far too close to graduation and couldn’t afford the recovery time, mentally or financially. At least, not yet. For now, he would bide his time and push onwards towards his end goal.

He sighed as he pressed his pencil into the cleared sharpener and twisted. For now, he would make due. The pens Patton had recommended were more than satisfactory, but he only had a small budget for his supplies.

He removed the pencil and examined the now sharpened tip. The graphite was uneven, but pointed enough for his note taking, though the wood around it was rough and almost fuzz-like. It would smudge the graphite’s markings if he wasn’t careful. Luckily he was accustomed to such cheap craftsmanship and could make due with what he had.

He set the sharpener aside and took stock at the desk before him. Everything had its place. His box of untouched pencils sat perfectly parallel above his notebook, directly right of his lamp. His three subject college ruled spiral was open to a half written page, marked with a small blue tab indicating that it was on the topic of Mathematics (specifically Number Theory). Behind the blue tab, a number of tabs could be seen, neatly lined along the pages, each representing a different course. To the right of his spiral lay five sharpie brand highlights, each a different color, placed in a perfectly straight line. Every color had its purpose, just as every tab of his notebook did.

Logan could not compromise when it came to certain tools. He needed a brand of highlighter that would not bleed through his textbook pages or smudge his notes whether he wrote in pen or pencil. He needed pens that were a bit more pricey so as to ensure a smooth glide without bleeding or ink transfers. He needed index cards made of a decent caliber to avoid damage or creases. All of these things were important. Far more important than the way a pencil sharpened, or turned fuzzy or smudged when he tried to erase it.

There was no more room in the budget for any pencils better than the ones that he had and that was that. He would just have to live with the way the graphite would snap when he tried to underline something. He would have to deal with the way the lead would fall out of the faux wood, or the lines seemed muted unless he put more force behind it, which made his hands hurt even worse. It was all a sacrifice he must be willing to make. He couldn’t afford better.

He couldn’t help another small growl as he made a mistake on his graph and moved to erase it, the cheap eraser ripping through the paper. He stared at the spot for a long moment, willing himself to just leave it. It was just a small hole. He could work around it. He didn’t need to redo the entire page.

It was just a hole…

A tiny inconsequential hole…

Miniscule… infinitesimal….

UGH! Logan ripped the page from the spiral, crinkling it in his hands before tossing it into the bin next to him. Everything had its place! Everything was meant to be somewhere and a hole was not meant to be in the middle of his notes!

He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to push away the headache he could feel coming on just as his phone’s alarm began to sound. It seemed more time had passed than he had expected. Logan pushed to his feet, producing his phone and swiping away the alarm as he moved to pack up and head to his first class of the day.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Logan pushed open the door to their shared dorm, dark locks falling into his eyes as they dripped water onto the mat beneath his feet. He was silent as he kicked the door shut and began to shed his outer layers.

It was late. Far later than it should have been. Logan did not like when things didn’t go according to schedule. His second class ran long, which meant he was late to lunch, which didn’t give him the sufficient amount of time to go to the library as he had planned without skipping his meal. Which made him feel a bit lethargic during his third and fourth class, causing him to forget his bag, which had him missing his train. Which meant he had to wait forty-five minutes for the next one. Then the rain started, which was not in the forecast; which meant Logan’s ten minute walk home had him soaked through completely.

It had not been a good day.

He took stock of the small apartment. Patton must have already gone to bed. The poor man had four a.m. classes. Most culinary students started earlier than the rest of the students. It was no wonder the man was so early to bed. Well, ever since Logan provided him with the optimal schedule for his ideal personal time to study/class ratio that is. It seemed to be working out for him, though Logan didn’t get to see him much anymore, which was surprisingly disappointing. The man was far too chipper, but he certainly knew how to make Logan smile.

Logan headed for his room and the attached bathroom, dropping his bag next to his desk and trying not to drip too much on the carpet. He needed to get out of his sodding clothes before he caught a cold.

Fifteen minutes, a hot shower and some dry clean clothes later and Logan felt like a new man. He checked the time. There were still a few hours before bed. It wasn’t as much as he had hoped, but he could still manage some studying.

He moved to his desk, pulling out his chair and sinking down, thankful the day was beginning to wind down. He pulled his bag closer and dug out his spiral, opening it to the page he had been working on earlier that morning and laying it out neatly exactly where it belonged. He reached for his pencil and…

He froze. His usual box of 12ct #2b cheap off-brand pencils were buried. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at what lay atop them. He couldn’t believe it. Atop those horrid, demonic, sorry-excuse for pencils lay a box of 24ct Dixon Ticonderoga premium wood #2 pencils with latex free erasers.

Logan took a moment to calm his excited heart. Before he knew it, he was reaching out with a shaky hand, collecting the box for examination. The clear plastic had been unopened, each stick perfectly preserved within the transparent packaging. Logan turned the object over in his hands, admiring its beauty as he caught sight of thick black words scrawled in sharpie on the back.

‘To Logan, From Patton. I saw these and thought of you. So, I bought them. It just felt ‘WRITE’! XD’

Logan couldn’t help but give a snort at the joke before fumbling to open the box. It almost felt like Christmas had come early as he pulled one of the pencils from its place among the others and set the box aside. He took a moment to examine the utensil in all its glory before reaching for his sharpener.

He inserted the blunted wood and twisted. Once. Twice. Thrice. He heard the sound of the graphite against metal and pulled the pencil out, bringing it to eye level for inspection.

The sharply pointed lead was smooth and crackless, forming a seamless cone with the sleek pale wood that surrounded it. It had glided so perfectly against the razor’s edge and now stood regal and polished before him. It was perhaps one of the most stunning sights he had ever laid his eyes on.

His chest tightened as his smile widened, moving to redraw the graph he had damaged earlier. He drew the lead across the paper gently, the line coming out smooth and dark. Just as it should be. He flipped the pencil in one quick and fluid motion and erased a small portion, the graphite coming off cleanly and without much force. It was satisfying and rejuvenating.

How could he have ever thought a day like this could be bad?! He had everything he ever wanted! Warm clothes, a perfectly tempered room, his desk organized exactly as it should be, and a friend who cared enough to-

Realization hit, ‘The World’s Best Pencil’ falling from his fingers and clattering to his desk (without so much as chipping the perfectly pointed tip) as he brought his hand to cover his mouth in shock.

His heart pounded against his ribs almost painfully. His other hand tangled in his still damp locks. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts. Everything he did was purposefully calculated and scheduled. How could he… He wasn’t…. This wasn’t possible…. But the evidence was building against him.

Logan Sanders was falling in love with his best friend.

Taglist:

@nightashes

Day 1; Getting Into the Spirit

SUMMARY; Decorating the house with Becky

WARNINGS; fluff and smut

REQUESTED BY; @sp0ck136

BETA’D BY; @xladyxfatex @xxghostnappaxx

WORD COUNT; 1,663

Y/N couldn’t hide her excitement as she brought the last box down from the attic and set it with the rest in front of the couch. Stepping back, she surveyed the mess. To her right sat the boxes containing outside decorations; nutcrackers, snowmen, and the like spilling from the boxes. To her left, set the ornaments for the tree; glitter and matte, old, new, and sentimental. Things they had each brought from years of past Christmas’ and things they had gotten together. Directly in front of her set the most daunting of all, the decorations for inside the house.

Though Y/N loves decorating for the holiday, it always seemed she became most stressed with decorating the house. So, this year, that’s where she decided to begin.

Y/N pulled her phone from her back pocket and unlocked it before thumbing through her music. Settling on a playlist of classical Christmas music she locks it, slides it back into her pocket, and pulled the garland from the box in front of her. She untangled it carefully as she hummed to the music, making her way towards the fireplace. She carefully looped the garland around the nails and bit her lip, making sure each loop was even. Smiling to herself, she did the same thing with the lights, twining them around the garland.

Behind her, Becky smiled as she leaned in the doorway; watching as her girlfriend sways gently to the music. Her surprise homecoming ended up being a surprise performance as well as Y/N gently swayed to the music. It took everything Becky had in her not to chuckle at Y/N’s cuteness. A few minutes passed before Y/N twirled around, ready to grab the stockings.

“Oh, fuck!” She jumped, hand over her heart as she half glared, half smiled at Becky. “Hey babe. How long have you been there?”

Becky chuckled gently as she made her way towards Y/N, one hand kept behind her back the whole time.

“I’m sorry babe, that wasn’t my intention to startle you. I had actually come home to surprise you and ended up getting surprised myself.” She pecks the shorter girl’s cheek and smiles. “I asked for a couple extra days and came home early.”

A full smile replaced the glare on her face as she wrapped her arms around Becky and pulled her into a kiss. “I guess we both get surprises today.” She chuckles. “How long do you get to stay?”

“Two weeks. I leave on January second ” Becky pulls back to look at her. “I couldn’t miss our first Christmas and New Years living together.”

“Oh babe.” Y/N smiles. “I was planning on decorating all day. Do you want to help? We can order in dinner after, cuddle, and watch movies?”

“Actually,” Becky smirks as she raises her hand from behind her back, mistletoe suddenly above them. “I was thinking we could finish decorating later. Maybe spend a little time together right now?”

Y/N raises an eyebrow as she looked up and rolled her eyes playfully. “I suppose.” She pulls Becky down for a kiss, lips brushing. “Can’t ignore the mistletoe.”

Y/N pressed her lips to Becky’s almost teasingly, as she smiled. Her fingers twisted into her lover’s orange locks. Just as Becky went to pull her closer, Y/N pulled away, licking her lips as she did.

“It won’t be easy on you Becks. Have to catch me first.”

Turning on her heels, Y/N took off, her mind racing with thoughts of where she could hide. She raced up the stairs and dashed into their shared room. It was awfully cliché to hid in the closet but that’s where she went, squeezing herself into the back corner. Downstairs Becky laughed and shook her head. She sat the mistletoe down on the coffee table before heading upstairs. She loved Y/N to death, but when it came to games she was quite predictable. Still… she’d play along.

She pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside before shutting it behind her. “Babe? You here?”

She waited for a second before rolling her eyes at the giggle coming from the closet. Of course, that’s where she hid. It was always there or under the bed.

Instead of heading for the closet she walked towards the bed, pulling her tank top over her head and tossing it towards the closet; where Y/N could hopefully see. Climbing onto the bed, she kicks her leggings off as well. A smirk formed on her face as she relaxed against the pillows.

“I guess if I can’t find her I’ll just have too,” she spreads her legs and trails her hand over her abdomen, giving Y/N a perfect view from the closet. “take care of this myself.”

She rubs her middle and ring finger over the crotch of her panties slowly, keeping an eye on the door. She licks her lips and moans gently, moisture soaking her panties. From the closet, Y/N gasps gently; her eyes darkening with lust as her own panties dampen. She knew exactly what Becky was trying to do and she hated to admit it was working.

“Oh babe.” Becky moaned, her eyes fluttering close as she rocked her hips. “Feels so good.”

Y/N slowly moves from her spot; quietly working her way towards the bed as to not alert Becky. Once there she climbs onto the bed, settling herself between Becky’s spread legs. If Becky knew, she made no effort to move.

“You’ve made a mistake Becks.” She suddenly grabs the Irish women's underwear and pulls them off, tossing them to the side. “First you come in here being all cute,” she grabs her hips and pulled her closer, face moving to hover over her clit. “Then you convince me to wait on decorating,” she growls gently and slides her tongue up through Becky’s folds. “Lastly, you fucking touch yourself without my permission Becky.”

Becky lifted her head to look at Y/N taken aback at her sudden aggression, but moans as Y/N wraps her mouth around her clit and sucks. The young woman looked up at her as she held her hips tighter, tongue flicking against her clit as she moaned.

“Always so wet and ready for me, princess.” Y/N smirked as she rubbed Becky’s clit. “Is this what you wanted baby?”

Becky nods and licks her lips.

“I love when you get rough baby. Love when you show me who’s boss.”

Becky moves to run her hands through Y/N’s hair but she slaps them away.

“You don’t get to touch tonight Becks.” She chuckles and kisses her way up Becky’s body, nipping and pulling on her lips once she reaches them. “Nope. Not tonight.”

Y’N stands from the bed and pulls her own shirt over her head.

“Take your fucking bra off.” She reaches around and unclasps her own before dropping her pants and panties. Becky quickly rips hers over her head and tosses it as Y/N crawls back on the bed.

Instead of settling between Becky’s legs again, like she expected, she slanted her legs to slide between hers.“You don’t cum until I say so, ‘kay?” Y/N licks her lips and rolls her hips a few times, finding the best angle for her clit to slide against the greedy girls beneath her. “Fuck, I’ve missed this Princess, missed you.”

Y/N leans down to press a rough kiss to Becky’s lips as her hips start rolling faster.Becky kisses back as she fists the sheets, her hips rocking to meet Y/N’s.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby. Can’t hide I’ve been wet for you since I got off the plane. Thinking about this…”

She moans as Y/N fondles her breasts, pinching her nipples between her forefinger and thumb. Her pussy clenched and pulses, desperate for something to fill it as her orgasm began to build.

“Y/N, babe, please.” She bucks her hips again, Y/N reaching to hold them still as her mouth moves down and wraps around a nipple.

“You don’t fucking cum until I say you do, Becks. So, help me.” Y/N pants gently, tethering on the edge already as she rolled her lips faster, harder, against Becky’s. “You can cum with me, yeah? Would my princess like that?” She drug her teeth over her nipple before moving to the other.

Becky nodded frantically, doing everything she could to hold hers back as she rocked her hips faster against Y/N’s. “Please, baby girl, I need you to cum. Need to feel it while you fall apart over me.”

Becks wasn’t one to bed, normally the roles reversed, yet she couldn’t help it. She started up at her lover, eyes blow with lust as her orgasm slowly starts.

“Fuck, fuck lass!” She pants and arches as her eyes roll back.

Y/N gasps, her orgasm suddenly rocking through her as her vision goes white, calling out Becky’s name as she continues to rock her lips. “Becks! Oh!”

Becky calls out her name in return, hands moving to Y/N’s hips, guiding them as they both rode the waves of ecstasy crashing over them.

It wasn’t long before Y/N’s body shook, wavered, and fell the rest beside Becky’s; both girls chests rising and falling steadily. Becky couldn’t help but laugh gently at her girlfriends exhausted state, a smirk on her face.

“Isn’t so easy being in charge is it?” She grabs her discarded shirt from the ground and uses it to clean them both off; opting for a shower and laundry later. “Sure you don’t want to do it more?”

She pulls Y/N into her arms and covers them both as the other girl glared at her.

“Watch it Lynch, I’ll put you in your place again.”

Becky just laughed and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, her lover already half asleep.

“We’ll see about that, my love. We’ll see.”

Becky smiled as she pulled Y/N closer, her own eyes slowly closing for a much deserved nap; her last thought about how happy she was for holiday breaks and Y/N.

Here it is loves! The first of the 25 Days of Christmas fics. I hope you enjoy it as much as I truly enjoyed writing it. A BIG shout out to my beta’s as well as my girl, @biforbecky2belts for all the help they’ve given and I’m sure will give with this challenge. If you wish to be tagged in future fics, send me an ask! Otherwise enjoy!

Much love, Rose xx

TAG LIST; @biforbecky2belts @theworldofotps @new-zealand-chic @sassymox @baronsbelleevangeline @nicolewoo @giftedpink @gameofmarvel @heelslayer

The Fourth Christmas

*The lights were a colorful blur through the rain rolling down the windows. Somehow the image was reflective of me. I hated crying. Passionately, emphatically, more-than-anything hated it. I wiped forcefully at my cheeks, aggravated with myself for letting it happen. This year it was hitting harder than others. Damn holiday cheer and all the radio stations with the carols on constant rotation.  

My parents had LOVED the holidays with a fierce commitment. Hosting Christmas open houses, annual Nutcracker attendance, gingerbread house making, decorating to the nines, and spoiling me rotten were all part of their fa-la-la traditions. The time of year triggered so much - too much.

My dad would make me peppermint hot chocolate on Christmas Eve while we watched The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and later National Lampoon’s. Momma would be making an overnight, French toast strata, and stuffing the stockings while I couldn’t see. I never wanted for anything, and by some miracle, their indulging me never led to being materialistic. 

And then it happened, my dad had died after a freak accident that had ultimately led to sepsis. There were ups and downs during the course of his illness that we weathered with hope, but ultimately...he didn’t make it. My heart broke in two, though his peaceful last breath had a beauty about it that I would never forget.  

Christmas was still months away when he passed, but I dreaded its arrival as the days came and went, spring turning to summer then autumn and finally winter.  My mom fought through tears she didn’t think I saw, baking cookies, buying the tree - the sparse kind he preferred over her preference for something fluffy and full.

But there was no more Grinch. No more National Lampoon’s. After he was gone, I couldn’t stomach even the ads for them, it always left me bursting into the hated tears. At that particular juncture in my life, tears were a total disaster, considering how heavy handed with the eyeliner and mascara I had been. 

Those traditions had been ours, his and mine. That first Christmas I was only just seventeen, and she had spoiled me with the most perfect and heart wrenching gift. Wrapped in a way that wouldn’t give me a clue, I had a momentary swell of pure joy on sight of his bass. 

What had once been his...an extension of his very soul, had been entrusted to me. A shiver shot up my spine, and I could swear he was right there with us. I would cherish it and care for it more than any other Christmas gift I’d ever received. 

As the years droned on, I did my best to support my mom, especially as she tended to get down herself. There were no more open houses, so we started going to the movies on Christmas Eve. We would still make the gingerbread houses and over-decorate. When she started crying in the eggs for the French toast strata, I drew a line.  I urged her to switch to an eggs bene with home fried potatoes, justifying the switch by saying we needed to balance out the sugar in the cookies with some salty and savory. In many ways our roles had shifted. I always found myself guiding her, and then she learned to rely on me. I tried to comfort her with so much love, she would forget the loss of hers...but I knew, deep down, those were Vans I could’ never fill. My parents would gross people out with how much they loved each other. I had the front row seat to their ups and downs, but they always worked their shit out. 

It made sense she carried the loss so heavily, and there was another thing I hated, that I couldn’t fix it for her. I would always wonder if maybe that was what really took her… her fractured heart, her half life without him, the lingering grief that trained behind her. It happened a meager four and a half years later. Four Christmases more, but not nearly enough.  

The doctors said it over and over and over but my mind was in deny and reject mode: brain aneurysm. There was a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo and explanations that translated as clearly as Charlie Brown’s teacher handing down an assignment. 

Ultimately, she was brain dead, kept alive by machines because she had been an organ donor. That choice had relieved me from everything but the formalities of signing paperwork. I’d not left her side for three days as the arrangements were made. 

Her hand was so confusingly warm in mine, and there was no strain in her expression, but peace. I had briefly considered taking her picture because she looked so beautiful, like Snow White in wait...only her true love’s kiss would have her waking on the other side. 

A chaplain had come to check on me. While I’d really, really wanted to be left alone, he’d made a suggestion that I would always be grateful for. In asking if there was anything special I wanted to do to say goodbye, I was suddenly stricken with inspiration. It was as if my dad had whispered in my ear. After assurances the chaplain would stay until I could get back, I took off. I made the trip as quickly as possible, returning with my dad’s bass. 

At first my fingers were shaky, and I wasn’t sure I could actually make it through. With a deep breath my voice cracked when I started to sing “Across the Universe,” one of my momma’s favorite songs.

My hands eventually trembled too much to continue, tears rolled down my cheeks, but I finished acapella, minus all the accessory "Jai Guru Deva, Om." It was only hours later I said my real goodbye, more than deeply saddened I wouldn’t be holding her hand at last breath. 

I was just twenty-two and both my parents were gone. I didn’t have extended family, both my parents were only children, like me. There were many friends, theirs and mine, that supported me but eventually even that waned. I poured myself into songwriting and singing, exorcising my feelings through the medium of music. My refuge. My confidante. I had makeshift, misfit families, composed of bandmates and their different circles of family and friends. I got by. I did my best. I extinguished the darkest thoughts and even darker tendencies. Christmas was my kryptonite, though. The outward bitchiness and bah humbug really came down to a defense mechanism. I couldn’t let anyone see the pain that pooled on my insides. 

This year, though, was going to be my fourth without both of them and that struck me. Four without him, then four without both of them. Sitting in my apartment, alone, it felt bigger and more empty than ever. I finally pulled my eyes away from the window, turning my head towards the small tree I had picked up just a little while ago. It was full and fluffy, like my mom had liked. 

I’d managed to set aside enough of my tips to swing it, even though every dollar should have been saved and it seemed extravagant. I had also splurged on a few groceries to treat myself to something other than ramen. My eyes then drifted down to the cup in my hands. The shock had worn off to a degree, but still, I was stunned.

The tree lot around the corner was run by volunteer firefighters with all proceeds going to charity. I didn’t want anything big, so my donation was completely meager, but at least I was supporting something meaningful. The guy handling the transactions had been pretty damn jolly, I was convinced he had put in some years as Santa, maybe still was. 

He was as gracious with me as he had been to the person that had dropped a mint on the eight footer just before me.

“Your cheeks are rosy, sweetheart, and I’m guessing that’s because of the cold. Give me a minute.” 

He turned away from me, doing something I couldn’t see because he was pleasantly portly. When he turned back around, he had a cup in hand, which he gave to me. 

"Peppermint hot chocolate, on me. Happy Holidays.” 

A familiar shiver wrapped around my spine. I blinked at the man, looking over his shoulder to see he had hot cider, coffee and peppermint hot chocolate in crock pots. It took me a few seconds to find the ability to speak.*

Happy Holidays to you. *I had lifted the cup in a gesture.* Thank you…

*Cup in one hand, full and fluffy yet petite tree in the other, I had walked home in a complete daze. I was in a state of abject disbelief. How had he known? What had him deciding on the peppermint hot chocolate? What if I wanted coffee, or cider? I didn’t know, and I really didn’t care. I’d propped the tree in a stand before I’d kicked off my shoes and dropped onto the couch. 

Sitting with the cup in my hands, I clutched it like a lifeline. The physical loneliness was stifling, and heavy. I lifted the cup, the scent of peppermint hitting my nose first, followed quickly by the rich, chocolate steam.  Memories swarmed at first sip, and I didn’t swallow them along with the hot chocolate. I closed my eyes as the flavor lingered, an inkling of the Christmas spirit I inherited returning. There was a third, winding chill up my spine. Somehow, some way, I just knew, no matter the depths of loneliness I felt, my parents were right there, with me. Always.*

A holiday and birthday I’ll never forget.

We went to the coast to visit family despite warnings that we should reconsider our travel plans. There was a free highway with no fires in the area and, as it was Christmas and our families were on the coast, we found our way down the alternative and long route, meeting friends in Cooma along the way. The usual route was closed due to bushfires.

Christmas was a success and we were all having a great time! There was some smoke from the bushfires up north so we stayed inside but anticipated clearer weather to take the kids swimming for new year.

The night before New Year’s Eve, we noticed an orange glow in the sky and smoke. The RFS app showed a fire had started at Badja outside of Numeralla. It looked so far away at the time. We went to bed with the thought of swimming the next day. My birthday was on New Years Day. After we’d go for a swim we’d bake the cake and prepare the food and board games and get ready to do the tradition we do every year. We were to go outside, watch the new year end and the new year begin, start my birthday cheers and a dark male is to walk through the house before we re-enter. So when we went to bed, we imagined that that was going to be our New Years Eve.

The fire looked so far away.

I woke up at about 5am or 5:30am and looked at my phone. The RSF app told everyone in Cobargo and Coolagolite to evacuate towards Bermagui. We had my mums partner in Coolagolite and so I immediately called them to wake them and told them to get out of there. They raced right over to ours. I went to wake my mum to let her know what was happening. Just then a knock was heard on the door. I go outside to find a woman with a hose, she’s frantically waking everyone. “Cobargo is on fire right now. People are coming here. We might have to run next. We just need to wake everyone up.” I looked up to the sky and there was nothing but darkness with a deep, red glow. Burnt leaves and ash fell from its darkness. I open my RFS app to look and the fire had actually grown so much in a few short hours, it was practically at our doorstep.

A new notification comes in at that moment instructing Bermagui to evacuate to the beach. The Surf Life Saving Club was the evacuation centre so we decide to make our way there. We pack up the car and wake the kids. We tell our oldest that we are off to watch a sunrise and that worked well because skies are also shades of red and orange during a sunrise. We didn’t want to freak her out yet. Our son is a baby so his only concern was his bottle. We’d eventually have to tell our daughter the truth when the daylight doesn’t come after the sunrise but for now we had to get them out as calmly as possible.

The streets were lined with cars and people. Emergency vehicles passed by us occasionally. “Look at all the people here to view the last sunrise of the year!” I said. “Why are there nee-naws, mummy?” “Well even emergency services enjoy a sunrise!” I countered. She seemed happy with that answer.

We’d also come to the coast with our guinea pigs as we had no one to babysit them in Canberra at the time. So we were carrying a baby, our bags with the things we needed, a tired toddler, the toys she wanted to bring to view the sunrise with, blankets to keep warm (we had learned that it can actually get very cold when the smoke is so thick it blocks out the sun and it’s warmth like it’s midnight), food for the kids and a giant carry-cage with three guinea pigs. We checked ourselves in with the volunteers and then collapsed on some grass outside, still maintaining that we were “watching the sunrise”. When I told her the truth later, she calmly asked her questions and then went off to play with her new Barbie Ambulance. She dreams of being a doctor one day and the thing folds out into a doctors office. It’s a real hit.

Sitting on the lawn and trying to feed a baby who was suddenly aware that he was in a loud space, he cried while my daughter tried to calm him and my husband and I silently fretted, wondering if other family members were safe. My husbands grandparents live near Batemans Bay and the fires were escalating there. My mother sat in the grass with her partner at another location convinced things would be fine while I’d occasionally yelled at her via text to get up to the SLSC to check in. I just wanted to be sure that everyone could be accounted for. She’d tell me not to worry and we’d see each other later. It had begun to rain lots of ash and leaves so we took the kids, the guinea pigs and all of our stuff inside.

Finding and collapsing on a miraculously free couch inside the centre, my husband settles the kids while I go out to get some space. Crowds in these situations make me feel like I’m in a small space and I had to step out periodically to calm down. On one of my excursions out I took a video of the evacuation that’s blowing up on my TikTok and some photos that ended up being in a news article later that morning. People on TikTok who had family in the area wanted to know the situation and I’d spend the rest of the day informing them of what was going on. There’s something about being on the scene and letting people know the situation that makes me feel like I should have possibly been a reporter. So begins a moment of existential crisis before I notice I’ve got ash and burnt leaves in my hair and I head back in.

We remained at the centre until mid afternoon when we were told that those with residences and accommodation within the town were cleared to go home. We were relieved! So on New Years Eve, mid afternoon, we went home, settled the baby down for a nap and started planning the next day. The baking we could do while we wait this thing out. I plugged my phone in to charge and the power went out moments later. Baking was suddenly off the table.

The fires had knocked out the electricity. But we still had reception. I sat in the car to charge my phone there and was responding to comments to let people know the situation. The sky turned this incredibly dark red and then went black. It was about 5:15pm and we lost reception. That meant no internet as well. I go back into the house. “We have no power and no communications. We have no way to let those worrying about us in the outside world know that we are okay and we can’t check on those who we are worried about in Batemans Bay.” I said. The word at the time was that they may not be able to restore power until the weekend but they actually couldn’t for an entire week.

On top of that, the petrol stations were all closed and our tank didn’t have enough to get to a town an hour away that had no guarantee of petrol. The radio repeatedly told people to leave despite no guarantee of petrol and that wasn’t realistic for us. We were to stay put until the petrol stations open and do our best.

We sat in darkness with some torches, playing scrabble, watching the world outside get darker. The quiet was very unusual. There were no birds singing, no crickets or frogs and the town was closed off. No one could travel so there were no cars. There was nothing. Just silence with an apocalyptic view. When the smoke accumulated enough to create its own thunder storm, it felt like we were dropped right in the radioactive badlands of Fallout 4 with a more reddish hue. The blue skies and turquoise waters we paddleboarded on were a distant memory all of a sudden. It was freezing. Of course, I only packed summer clothes.

New Years Day arrived and my family was trying to celebrate my birthday the best we could but with such wide windows built for a view, the apocalyptic view outside and the reminder that a fire was by our doorstep drowned any feeling of joy. We were scared. I kept thinking about a week earlier, looking at the map and seeing nothing of concern and racing down to see our families. How could we stay away from our families for Christmas? But here we were a week later. There was a road briefly open to Tathra and it was nose-to-nose for hours. Cars slowly lined the main road as frightened tourists and residents fled with their things. Destination - Bega, Cooma, Canberra. And we stayed and watched with our nearly empty tank. “You wouldn’t want to be in that with a baby.” Mum said. She was right.

Our baby is bottle fed and so we’d make the trips up to the SLSC to get boiled water to make bottles with and for some coffee. I found a spot of reception and quickly let my friends know we were okay via Facebook before it dropped out again. They had been worried. Without communication, no one knew the full extent of the situation. Night time was hard because the baby wakes and the bottles had to be heated with whatever hot water was left in the hot water system and it barely warmed a bottle. We couldn’t shower or only jumped in for 30 seconds so we could save the hot water.

Without power we couldn’t cook and our fridge wasn’t going to refrigerate anything. We kept cool some milk the best we could and stocked up on canned goods. We ate baby corn and sardines, fruit and anything else we could get from the supermarket. The supermarket remained open with shelves that were emptying fast. It reminded me of abandoned supermarkets in Fallout. A lot of Fallout happening, I thought to myself. The staff worked while not knowing if their houses were still there. In a neighbouring town they had to close the supermarket as people began walking off with trolleys full of stuff and looting upon hearing that there was a problem with transaction processes. “People have got to eat” a friend later would say. People were trapped and scared with limited food to give their families. Things were bound to take a turn. Some days later the supermarket in Bermagui would be closed due to being understaffed as people fled or staff defending their homes. Thankfully the SLSC has donated food to give out.

The day after New Year we were all on edge. The smoke stayed thick, the kids were scared, the toddler hated being stuck inside and the baby was scared from the smell of smoke. Our throats and eyes hurt. Coffee was limited. My husband and I went to get some hot water when a neighbour said there’s a line at a petrol station. As we went past we saw the tanker. Oh my gosh there’s a tanker!! We got some hot water, I passed a bird in a cage, dropped the hot water off at home and raced to the line.

We were around the 100th car in line. My husband waited in the car while I went up to grab us coffee while we waited. I passed by the bird again. It had a note that it belonged to a Cobargo resident and the person who had dropped it off couldn’t find the owner and couldn’t fit it in her car so begged that someone feed it and give it water at the centre. It sat there with it’s cover and a box of its food, tweeting at anyone who passed it. I took the coffee back to the car and raced up to the centre a final time. I was going to evacuate with that bird. The volunteers didn’t really know how to look after it and, with everything going on, couldn’t have the time to give it what it needed.

A news station had found its way into Bermagui to show the line to the petrol station in their segment and had reported that the petrol was free. People began getting news that they had free petrol as those who overheard the report started to tell the line of cars. It wasn’t free though, and you had to pay in cash. Thankfully we did have cash on us, a rare thing for us. We wondered about those who had none, what they’d do if they were told they had free fuel only to find that they had to pay - and had no cash on them. I later corrected the news channel on my Twitter, disgusted at the irresponsible reporting.

It took 3 hours to get fuel while we waited for the generator to work at the station, then raced home to grab the kids, who mum was watching. There was a window of opportunity to escape and we were taking it. Mum took the opportunity too. She grabbed petrol before the pumps ran out and then fled to my brothers place in Bega. She’d stay there several days until she was allowed to go home.

Our drive home was slow. There were jams at several points and the smoke was so thick we had to close the aircon entirely. We watched as small fires still burnt so actively under trees and people cried outside the smouldering rubble that used to be their home. Animals sat in paddocks with burnt legs and we knew they’d likely be shot later. A lone alpaca sat on blackened paddocks and I hoped it wasn’t burnt, it’s fluffy face looking on to the distance as if it already knew its fate. Our baby cried for his bottle but they went cold in the traffic jams. There was nowhere to heat it until we met up with our friends in Cooma, the ones we met on the way down a week earlier. We fell through their doors looking worse for wear as they made us coffee and gifted us shortbread. We fed the kids and stretched our legs. We got home after 9 hours. My husbands family didn’t want us to worry and filled our shelves and cupboards with food and turned the aircon on to give the house clean air. We sat on our bed in an unchaotic house and wondered if we really did just go through all of that.

Mum was able to go home this past Wednesday and they switched the power back on. Mum was glad the place wasn’t looted as there were looters in the area. The fires brought out the best and the worst in people. While we were raising money and donating, others looted the cars of those who had already lost everything. When in Bega my mum, at one point, hid under a bridge with my brother for hours while it rained live embers. An old colleague of my brothers took them in until they could go back to my brothers place.

When we got back home to Canberra, I started the search for the birds owner and found her after a big community effort. She had gone to Melbourne for Christmas to see her daughter and her neighbour looked after the bird. The owner had lost everything. Her house and all her belongings and important documents. It would take a while to get back on her feet and so I’m watching her bird for her while she does so. I felt so sad to hear that she lost everything. What we went through was so small in comparison. We had a home to run away to and my mum got to go home to her house. But this bird and his owner have lost everything but each other and their dog. The bird gets along with our guinea pigs. They all chirp together while sitting inside waiting for the smoke in Canberra to die down. It’s really very cute.

It’s been very emotional. I have been crying at odd moments. We’ve seen a lot. This past week my husband and I have been struggling with how everything was supposed to be normal again. He’d go to work and I’d look after the kids and do my hobbies except it’s smokey outside and we have P2 masks on whenever we went out and the house is taped up to keep smoke out.

We are still processing a lot but I think typing it here helps in that process. Thank you if you read all of this. I will be resuming the bug photography soon. There’s no real conclusion yet and that’s because the fires rage on. There won’t be a real conclusion for a while yet. I guarantee it’ll remain devastating. We’ve lost lives and wildlife. We’ve lost treasured places and homes. Pets die from respiratory distress from being left outside. Stock are being put down from being injured in the fires. So we all cry from time to time while trying to do our best daily.

Much love,

Anthelid-Day

‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #21

I woke up to Harry.

"What are you—

"Shhh," He interrupted my sleepy confusion, his arms were digging under my body and pulling me out from the back of the sofa I had been sleeping on, "Just hang on a minute ..."

He leaned over me slowly and lodged himself between the back of the sofa and my body, his arms tightly holding around the duvet I was burritoed in. I very much felt like I was about to fall onto the floor and an involuntary yelp escaped me to express the thought. The jolting movement caused an unpleasant rush through my head pointing to the hangover brewing.

"I've got you," Harry reassured me, straightening up and pulling me even closer against his chest. He wiggled his legs slightly to sandwich mine and help us both to sit snuggly. Flashes of our intimate moments the night before rose in my mind as Harry’s cologne triggered a vivid memory.  His hands now were soft and gentle but my mind remembered them searching my body lustfully and I couldn’t stop the way my heart started racing from the memory.

"Your hair is wet," I told him dumbly, feeling the cold wetness from a stray lock stick to my cheek.

"I had a shower." "Here?" I frowned, Harry hadn't been here when the girls and I had arrived back at my house sometime around four in the morning.

"No," I could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips to my forehead, "I showered at home and came straight here to make sure you survived the night.”

I turned my head up to meet his, grinning back at him when he seemed surprised by the movement. I went straight for his lips, wanting to feel the same sensation of glorious mindlessness that I had kissing him last night. Harry hummed against me and quickly deepened the kiss, dragging a hand up my back to hold the back on my head. The material of the knitted jumper he was wearing scratched my cheek and I smiled against him when he flipped one of his legs over both of mine to trap me further. Just when my body was starting to get into the rhythm of the kiss Harry slowly pulled back from it. His lips found my chin and my nose and then the side of my mouth before he stopped completely and just looked at me.

He didn’t say anything for a few beats, "That was very nice. How was the rest of your night last night? What did I miss?”

I pressed my pointer finger to his chin, inspecting the way his lips were pinker from having kissed me, “I think I have a bruise on my leg from a bar stool.”

Harry’s laugh exploded out of him before even he could contain it and I lowered my hands back between us against his warm chest to snuggle down in the cuddle, “What on earth did you get up to with a bar stool? Should I be jealous?”

“We ended up at a karaoke bar and Bel needed a boost up onto a stool but she fell off and it crashed into my leg. She has an egg on her head.”

“Jesus Christ, is she okay?” Harry’s chest was shaking with laughter.

“She’s mad she messed up the lyrics to Life for Rent.”

Harry nearly snorted when a deeper laugh overtook him and he settled into a long, deep laugh, “She picked a Dido song?”

I was grinning at the way Harry could hardly get the words out. I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to be the one causing this bubbling of joy from him but I loved every second of it. I closed my eyes and settled into the feeling of being held and tried to forget the headache swirling around my head.

“Life for Rent is actually a beautiful song,” I defended quietly.

“It it,” Harry agreed, “It’s just so left of centre. I was surprised ... I needed that laugh, thank you.”

"My pleasure, but if my leg needs to be amputated, boy, are you going to be sorry your initial reaction was laughter."

"Didn't think I'd ever see a day I could say Nina Lawrence was being over-dramatic," Harry said dryly.

"You've unleashed a monster."

“Sounds like you had a fun night?" He asked quietly, his lips moving against my check, "What time did you get in?"

My mind was running at a million miles from Harry being so close and stumbled on my answer, "I did. Somewhere around four I think."

"And you're a good host so you've let them take your bed?" He asked, referring to the girls.

Yes, but I wish I’d taken you up on the offer to stay in yours last night.

"Four in the bed was a bit too much." I confirmed.

"You looked very cosy out here, I wasn't going to join you but I found I couldn't resist."

"I wasn't expecting you this morning," I said, broaching the topic of why Harry was at my house.

He'd surprised me last night when he stayed with my family after my performance at Royal Albert Hall until midnight. Eventually he’d whispered in my ear he needed to leave if he was going to be able to sing properly today. In the excitement of my performance I had forgotten he had his own to think about.

Soon after I ended up going out with the girls, who were keen to have one last dance in London before going back home up North. I wasn’t complaining about him being here this morning, but I thought we had our Christmas farewell the night before.

Up against Harry’s car. For about twenty minutes.

"I'm here to sneak you out for a quick breakfast before the others wake up,” He said, and I felt myself blush at what I had been remembering from the night before, “I was thinking about it last night after I got home and I just kind of decided I wasn’t particularly happy with not seeing you this morning when if I was organised I definitely could.”

Harry’s fingers were drawing distracting circles on my back and feeling the vibrations from his voice as he spoke from having my head pressed against his chest only made it all feel a special kind of intimate.

A lovely warm feeling filled me at his words. If seeing him hold his own with my family and friends last night wasn't already enough to reassure me of Harry fitting in my world surely seeing the effort he put into getting to spend time with me was convincing enough. If only the dirty voices of doubt in me could see that.

I hadn't said anything, Harry squeezed me slightly, "Can I have one more date before you leave?"

"'Course you can," I mumbled back, dragging my hands up and tugging at the neck of his jumper.

"A true gentlemen would have come over and cooked breakfast for all of you ... My compromise is that we bring breakfast back for the girls, what time do you think they'll wake up?."

"They won't surface before midday. The train we’re getting is at 1:30.”

"Great, we have plenty of time then ... On a scale of one to ten how much does <i>your</i> head hurt right now?"

"A four but growing."

"You need some food. And fresh air," Harry said decisively, "A green juice and some breakfast and you'll be good as new."

At the thought of getting up a heavy weariness fell over me, "Or we could just stay like this all day."

Harry hummed into my hairline and squeezed his arms around me again, "Very tempting. But I'm actually extremely hungry, I went for a run earlier."

"Earlier?" I groaned, "What could be earlier than this?"

Harry laughed and without any warning sat up, keeping his hold on me and forcing me upright as well.

"Wait," I protested meekly, needing a moment to take stock of exactly how bad I was feeling.

"Are you going to vomit? Should I be worried about alcohol poisoning?"

I hit his arm lightly, "No, just give me some warning next time."

Harry gave me ten minutes to creep around upstairs and get myself decent for breakfast. It required sneaking into my room for a change of clothes, the three lumps that were Isobel, Sam, and Georgie taking up all of my bed didn't make a sound or movement while I did so. Still, I scrawled out a note for them at left it on top of Sam's phone where it was charging.

Harry had waited for me on the sofa, and when he heard me coming down the stairs he met me at the bottom of them, all rugged up in this coat and a scarf. I followed him out the door, sneaking a look at his bum in the trendy, loose blue jeans he was wearing. He looked fantastic.

Harry grabbed for my hand when outside I started walking towards his car, "Nope, this way," he corrected, tugging me towards him and starting to walk in the opposite direction down my street, "I Googled, there's a nice looking place just around the corner. I thought we could just walk there?"

"You're a man with a plan," I commented, swinging our joined hands between us.

"I'd hate you to think I don't have my shit together," Harry quipped back, "Besides which, I take you and breakfast very seriously."

Oh boy.

"My brain can't decide yet if food sounds good or bad," I groaned, pulling my sunglasses down from the top of my head. The wintery London chill was in the air but we were being graced with an uncharacteristic sunny morning.

The cafe Harry had in mind was a little busy, but Harry walked in with purpose, asking for a table for two of us. We ended up tucked into a corner, Harry sat with his back to the window and immediately opened the menu reminding me not for the first time just how hungry he was.

I didn’t spend a lot of time looking at the menu, the third thing on the breakfast list was ricotta pancakes with strawberries. I didn’t need to see any further options.

Harry deliberated over two or three options however, looking crestfallen when the waitress came over and he had to make a final decision. He was trying to avoid dairy for the day to help with his voice.

Once I ordered food with a coffee he pointed to the menu and said “I’ll have this one. With bacon,” a small frown, “And mushrooms.”

He also ordered two green juices, promising me it would help with the thudding in my head.

“Is an OJ not good enough?” I lamented after the waitress left.

Harry grinned at me, “You’re a precious drunk.”

“I am not still drunk,” I defended quickly, taking my sunglasses off my head and putting them on top of my phone on the table.

“Precious hungover then,” He edited warmly. "I really like your family and friends. Last night was great.”

“I thought so to. Although they’re all a bit mad too,” I cringed remembering Bel and Georgie singing a very, very old One Direction song at Harry last night at the hotel. Tequila shots made them quite musical.

As if he knew the moment I was thinking of, Harry spoke up, ”I liked it, it was fun. If I was a plumber they’d have made sewerage jokes all night. It’s okay. I can take it.”

"They all went easy on us, trust me,” I was thinking of all the times my mum made eyes at me throughout the night when she’d caught Harry watching me or being sweet in some way.

"I'm looking forward to getting to the stage where they don't. Hopefully."

He was fishing for reassurance, I smiled and squinted at him, knowing he knew what I was going to say but it was important I said it anyway, "They all love you, don't worry."

Harry's smile brightened and his eyes locked on mine, “I like this ... You never used to make eye contact, it would drive me mad.”

My friends forgotten, suddenly I felt I was under his scrutiny, his attention wafting from one line of conversation to another without warning, "What?"

"You'd look at my chin or my nose, and if we made eye contact you'd look away so quickly it was as though it never happened. It drove me crazy."

I winced, "I can't imagine why you bothered persisting. Sorry."

“I could tell you, but I’m not sure your hangover can weather how sappy I’d get,” Harry said, saved by the bell that was our drinks being brought over to the table.

I was sure the waitress had heard the last of the conversation though, and felt her looking between us knowingly. I felt my face heat and when I chanced a glance across to Harry he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“Are you still buzzing from last night?” Harry asked when we were alone again.

“Yeah,” I smiled at him, “But the better question is are you excited for your performance tonight?”

“I am” Harry provided carefully, adding a perfectly measured spoonful of sugar to his black coffee and stirring it through.

“But?” I prompted

“I’m a little nervous,” He admitted. “I always am when it’s a telly thing, they’re always a bit awkward. Singing to a camera and then an audience that’s not really into it … It feels like work where proper live shows don’t really. But it will be nice to be back up on stage with the lads.”

I nodded at him diplomatically, “A healthy dose of nerves is a good thing I’ve been told, means you don’t take it for granted.”

“You’re telling me even Protégés even get nervous?”

“Are you ever going to drop that?” I groaned.

“Nope.” He said easily.

“I was shitting myself before last night … I’ve never been good at the ‘healthy dose’ part of that,” I said with a slow smile.

Harry’s face dropped just a touch, but I hadn’t meant to berate him in any way. It had served as a reminder of something to him though and I watched him struggle with what to say next. I decided to rescue him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” He answered immediately, looking painfully earnest.

“You were so kind to me, right from before I even realised you knew I existed …” I paused, not know how to ask the actual question part, Harry watched me carefully, “Why?”

Some part of him relaxed slightly, “I’d like to think I’m kind to pretty much everyone. It’s the default, my mum would always tell us that when we were kids: Being kind should be your default setting.”

“And what about if someone is a jerk?”

Harry’s smile returned, “Kill them with kindness.”

“What about if someone is kind of standoffish and disinterested in even a pleasant, casual social interaction? What if they barely give you the time of day to be kind?”

“Are you referring to yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Wear them down until they date you.”

Now I was left without knowing what to say, and my shock evidently played out in my expression because Harry watched me carefully but smiled at whatever he saw. He’d won that discussion by being honest and I could see Harry knew he had me.

“Nina it was never about polite kindness with you.”

Our food had arrived and the smell of sweet, warm pancakes made my stomach rumble with delight, “What does that mean?” I asked, waiting a moment before taking my first bite. It was delicious.

“I’d heard Rodger and Max talk about you well before I met you. They’re nuts about you and the way Rodger would speak about you used to annoy me, if I’m honest. Early on he corrected my assumption he had a thing for you, I think I told him to just hurry up and marry you already,” Harry shook his head at himself, “I used to think ‘if she’s so bloody great how come she never comes to anything’. I started joking that you didn’t really exist, that everyone had invented you as a wind up.”

“You did?”

Harry was laughing at the memory, “I did. Then I left my hat at your place and Rodger told me you would be home to give it to me.” “I’d forgotten about that,” I said, “I always think Rodger’s party was the first time we met.”

“That hurts,” Harry feigns a pain over his heard, “Standing outside your house feeling as though I’d been stabbed in the heart or I was about to throw up is one of my most memorable moments.”

I winced, “What a memory.”

“The second I saw you I was done for, Nina." He said slowly, his expression sincere but cautious as though he was treading carefully with his words, "I’d had all this build up from everyone about about how incredible you were that as soon as I saw you I got a crush ten feet tall and as wide as the sea ... Everyone had failed to mention you were gorgeous too.”

I knew I was bright red, but I could see Harry wasn’t going to save me from my embarrassment, he held eye contact and waited for me to stop internally protesting what he had said. Hearing that Harry's attraction had been so instantaneous both reassured me and had me feeling guilty, it had taken me weeks to get to that point.

"I should really start paying Rodger for whatever he's saying about me."

Harry laughed and nodded, "You really should ... I wasn't just being nice for the sake of it, Nina. I wanted you to like me as much as I liked you. I had that fun but soul destroying feeling where you're so into someone it's addictive and you just want to see them again. It was so annoying not get enough time with you on your own—I’m sounding like a maniac right now, I know,” He hurried, “But I’d find myself so pissed off at Rodger speaking over you or Max jumping in to save you from having to answer. I knew if I just had the time with you alone you’d open up more. I hated that every time I saw you it was coincidental, I just wanted to get to the point where I could plan when I'd get to see you next on my own. I’d make plans with Rodger or Max not knowing if they'd bring you along as well.”

"Harry," I said gently, waiting his remembered frustration play out in his features.

"I'd be crushed every time you didn't appear," He continued slowly, "And after the Regina show, you disappeared for weeks and I never felt like it was my place to reach out directly. I was pretty sure you hated me. "

"I'm sorry, I never hated you."

"I know," Harry smiled, "I can be a romantic dramatist."

"I think I thought I'd embarrassed myself to Kingdom Come and you'd want nothing to do with my drama anyway."

He deflated a little, "I'm not going to be like him, Nina," Harry paused to make sure I knew who he was referring to, "If you're going through something I want to know."

I sighed and dropped my chin into my hand, propped up on the table, "You're pretty lovely, know that?"

"I'd really like this to work for us, Nina, and I don't want to push you but at the same time I don't want to allow there to be any room for you to doubt it. Or me."

We were both finished eating and I watched Harry for a moment. He never seem phased by anything, so having him reveal his feelings when I was hesitant to assume them was pleasant in an unexpected way. Usually the thought of someone noticing me in a social setting made my skin crawl, but knowing Harry had been watching and wanting to know me better was settling somehow. To also have him acknowledge what I had told him about my last relationship and the dynamic there was also reassuring, if not scary. It was always a heavily guarded secret inside me, and I wasn’t used to having him privy to it yet.

"This means I'm going to have to add you to my Christmas list, doesn't it?" I asked playfully, delighted when Harry's face lit up in response.

"You sure do.”

“I think an M&S voucher should suffice,” I teased, trying to look thoughtful.

Harry raised his eyebrows at me, “That would be lovely actually, I could use some new underwear.”

Harry looked proud of his quickness, and he took his time taking a long sip of his coffee, watching me over the cup. I simply smiled back and tried a little of the juice he had ordered for me, scrunching my nose up at what I could only describe as a green flavour.

“Oh god,” I coughed, “That tastes like a garden.” Harry beamed at me, “It’ll put five years back on your life.”

+++

“Bye Harry!” “Bye Harry, we’ll be texting our review after tonight!”

“Harry,” Bel leaned forward between Harry’s front seats, looking as though she was tossing up between multiple things to say, finally settling on, “Don’t trip.”

Harry barked out a laugh at that, promising her he wouldn’t, “It would probably make great TV though,” he added, “I’m sure there are lots of people that would love to see me land on my arse.”

Bel seemed to consider that for a moment, then seemed to shrug it off, “We’ll see you when we see you, Harry. Thanks for the ride.”

I turned in my seat to watch her slip out onto the footpath outside Farringdon station. Harry had made good of his promise to take breakfast back to my house for everyone. We left the cafe with arms of pastries and coffees, and then he insisted on saving us the Uber fare by driving us to the train up North himself. Harry popped the boot for them and looked in the rearview mirror to make sure it had opened.

“Have a great Christmas,” He said quietly, pulling me back, Harry’s eyes flicked back to the mirror as I registered that we wouldn’t have much time to do this goodbye.

“You too,” I said, turning to face him in my seat.

“Have fun and be safe and miss me loads,” He added, shifting around and leaning on the middle console towards me, he curled his index finger at me, “C’mere.”

I smiled and leaned in towards him, Harry’s thumb and pointer finger met my chin and he gently pulled it up to the right angle for him to lower in for a kiss. Harry pulled back after one chaste attempt, giving me only enough time to lick my lips before we were pressed back together, his tongue giving only the shortest tease. He dropped his fingers from chin and sat back in his seat.

“I’ll see you on the 28th,” He confirmed, turning his head to me, “But I’ll talk to you before then.”

“Yep,” I nodded, “Break a leg tonight. And save me some of that croissant bread and butter pudding your mum makes.”

Harry laughed, “I will. She’s going to adore that you’re so keen for it.”

Georgie’s face appeared next to my window, “I need to go.”

“You do,” He agreed, reaching for the side of my face and pulling himself over the console again to give me one last kiss, “Be good.”

I screwed up my nose at him as I opened my door, “I’m always good.”

“You still need to sign the program from last night for me," He said quickly, just as I was about to shut the door, "I’m getting it framed.”

I rolled my eyes at him, "Bye Harry,"

"Merry Christmas, Protégé!"

++

"I fucking hate you.”

I did. I really did. But my face cracked into a grin and I walked back into Bel’s family lounge room carrying a tray of teas. Georgie was modelling a One Direction t-shirt she had pulled from God knows where and Bel was busy pinning a Liam badge to her pyjama top.

“Where did you even get those!”

“It was a two for one deal online,” Georgie told me happily, “Sam didn’t think it was a good idea for us to keep teasing you, but if you ask me she’s being unsupportive.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam said, moving over on the two-seater she was on to make room for me. I linked my arm through hers when I sat.

Bel’s parents were away visiting with her sister and brother-in-law in Glasgow, not returning until the following morning. Her dad had the TV sound system to shame all sound systems which apparently meant we had to watch Harry on the telly there. The empty house was enough to sell me on the idea, mine was full of cousins and family who would delight in teasing me about Harry. But this would be the first time I would properly witness him singing and I didn’t think I could handle it if I couldn’t just focus on him and what I was seeing.

We were making an old school sleepover of it, which we had decided upon on the train back earlier today. We all had gone to our respective family homes and then repacked for a night at Bel’s. The food had been ordered in and it was about half an hour until the program started. While we waited for Indian to arrive we chatted our way through numerous pieces of gossip from our wider friendship group in Blackpool, and back to our family Christmases.

It was tradition that we met at the pub on Boxing day where it seemed everyone we knew under thirty five who was home for the holiday season all went to debrief after surviving spending an extended period of time with their families. The same thing happened on New Years Day before everyone headed back to London or Manchester to their regular lives.

"How's that bruise on your leg?" Bel asked suddenly, looking across at me and nodding at my covered legs.

"It's okay, how's your hea—

"—You should’ve gotten Harry to kiss it better,” Georgie cut me off.

“Yeah,” Bel agreed, a devilish smile on her face, “I bet he’s really good at that kind of thing.”

“What!” I squawked, watching Sam stand up when the doorbell rang. She waved off any help in collecting the food and I was left to Bel and Georgie’s inappropriate giggling.

“Harry’s fit, take it graciously.” Bel said.

“He is!” I defended, “But I don’t need to bloody hear it from you.”

“If I had a guy like Harry I’d be snug as shit about it,” Georgie exclaimed, standing up to help Sam unpack the food onto the coffee table. “I could use some new relationship sex. It’s always so delightful.”

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

“Here we go,” Bel rolled her eyes, “Horny Georgie.”

Georgie had the audacity to look wounded, “Sorry, what year is it? I won’t be shamed for liking sex!”

“Nobody was shaming you, George,” Sam said calmly, “But next time take a breath before you mention Nina’s new boyfriend and then sex, mmm?” “I wasn’t saying I wanted to bang Harry!” Georgie said to me quickly.

“I know,” I smiled, wanting to get as far as I could from this conversation as quickly as possible, “Pass me a plate.”

We already had plates and cutlery ready. I watched as the containers were popped open. Bel moved to kneel at the table and started to serve herself bits of all the different curries we had ordered. Sam gave Georgie one last look, and I wished I knew how to save them from each other’s strong opinions. Really I just wanted to move the conversation away from my sex life. I didn’t have the energy to explain why Harry and I hadn’t slept together yet.

Food was just the distraction needed to reset the conversation.

We spent the next hour talking and eating our way through the first part of the Charity Gala on the telly. There was an all-star line up with all the usual suspects in the London music and comedy scene. We gossiped our way through who was who, who was good and who wasn’t really actually funny.

I felt like by the time it was One Direction being introduced that I had lived half a life time in nervous anticipation. I had been preparing myself for a shift, or for at least seeing a side of Harry that I hadn’t before which had the potential to make me feel uncomfortable.

I knew that the band hadn’t performed together very much in the last twelve months. Harry had said that much himself, and it was a fact that was getting played up all night in the lead up to them performing. The world had missed them, the presenter kept saying, as the moment they were on stage was built up—it was clear they were being presented as the big act of the night.

Finally they were announced to be after the ad break. Which gave me enough time to refill my glass of wine and chew my way through a handful of Dairy Milk buttons.

“Don’t eat your hand, Nina,” Bel joked from her spot across the room.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, “It’s this or projectile vomit on your mum’s good rug.”

"Why are you freaking out so much about this?"

"I haven't seen him perform before," I provided quietly, trying to hide the quiver to my voice.

Sam's arm came around me and she held me in a side hug, "This shouldn't change your opinion of him," she said just to me, sensing there was more going on than I was letting on.

"I just haven't seen it before," I reiterated, wondering what 'it' was and why something about the whole concept of seeing Harry perform made me feel uneasy.

The ad break came to a close and there was no introduction to the act or the song, a thumping drum beat started and panning shots of the audience facing the stage took over the screen. The girls quietened around me but Sam kept her arm around me, giving my shoulder a slight squeeze.

The introduction to the song went too long. I kept anticipating the start but the drums kept going and the intro rolled on. Eventually I heard what was distinctly Harry's laugh through a microphone and then he started singing.

The camera panned on him first. He was grinning and a little red but he stood where he was and sang beautifully in an impeccable upper lower register. He swayed slightly to the beat, the silky material of the shirt that was poorly tucked into his jeans moving softly with his hips.

"That's your man, Nina," Georgie clapped towards the TV when Harry stopped singing and someone else took over.

The camera panned over all the members of the band, holding on the drummer for a little while and then going back to get the shot of the audience with the four members of One Direction facing them.

Harry had lovely tone to his voice. It rumbled out of his chest smoothly and his harmonies cut through the melody perfectly. He looked like he belonged exactly where he was on stage. Each time he was on the screen he was interacting the the camera, the audience or a bandmate. Harry made it all look fun and when the song came to and end he joined the others in happily greeting the people in the room with them, thanking the crowd for having them.

"And all of you at home too," A voice off screen said, I wasn't sure which member.

Harry appeared on screen again, screwing the lid back onto a water bottle, and then leaving it to walk back to his mic stand, "Thank you for having us," He said simply, "This is Story of My Life."

They played through the slower song and I stared at Harry's spot on the stage the whole time, only noticing his bandmates when the camera left him and I was forced to. The girls were making observations around me but I wasn't really listening. It was so strange to be looking at Harry in that setting.

He had slowly become such a strong force in my life and I was finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that there was such a huge part of him, of his life, that I'd not experienced at all. We hardly spoke about his job and I was left wondering why. He was clearly so good at it and I was concerned by the fact he hadn't shared much with me.

The next song started and I turned to Sam beside me, "Harry never talks to me about his job. Is that odd?"

She craned her neck to look at me properly, her brows drawn like she didn't understand where my question was coming from, her features then rose into surprise, "Nina, I ... No, I don't think so. Don't ... Don't psyche yourself out. Harry's so into you, you'd have to be an idiot to miss that."

I looked back to the screen, watching Harry sing his heart out on live National television, "We don't talk about who he is. I mean, look," I waved my hand at the television, "He's fucking Harry Styles ... Why is that only just hitting me?"

"Because he's not that to you, babe," Georgie added gently from across the room, her eyes understanding, "He's just a lad. He's just your Harry. And I know we give you both shit ... Well, mostly me," She half shrugged, "We give you shit about him but if he was some famous fuckwit we wouldn't act like we do." "He's set the tone," Bel jumped in, "He didn't walk in and throw his name around, and now he's sharing it with you. It's probably awkward for him to bring it up with people."

"I think it's my fault," I said. "I've been so bad at asking him about himself, I alway feel so awkward and I didn't want him to think I was digging for that, you know?"

"Don't overthink this," Sam hugged my side, "He's mad about you, and I bet he appreciated not feeling like was a factor with you.."

The only real window into Harry's job and the status that came with it had been my attending the dinner earlier in the year where I'd met some of his friends. Friends, who as it turned out, had sent a photograph of the night to someone working at a media corporation. I'd been distracted by the fact Harry had lied about how we knew each other, and I hadn't focused really on the fact that was what his life was like sometimes, and why.

The 'why' was this, what I was watching, Harry being on stage and a part of this universally known and loved band.

"Nina," Sam pulled me out of my thoughts, "He's really bloody good. Appreciate his job for that, don't get stuck on the rest of it ... You've got music in common, let that be something wonderful."

She was right. Having music in common with Harry was wonderful.

"He's so cool," I said without thinking.

"Right," Georgie huffed, "How do you think we all bloody felt watching you last night?"

"His voice is really lovely," I could feel a blush rising.

"Now we're talking!" Sam said, jamming her fingers into my ribs, "That rockstar is yours."

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I replied softly, hoping nobody would elaborate on the matter. I regretted saying it as soon as it came out of my mouth. I hadn't felt any pressure with Harry on the topic, so why it fell out of my mouth in that moment I couldn't say.

“Ah,” Georgie waved off my comment easily, “You’re whatever the step before boyfriend is.”

I hope so.

The Originals: Bad Blood (Alternative Season 5)

Episode 5: A Mikaelson Family Christmas

Warnings: I do not own the original content to “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries” or “Legacies” or any of the characters from the television shows.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

Klaus vamp sped into the dining area of the compound to find Rebekah and Elijah sat the table both looking rather miserable with themselves.

“I’m beginning to think use two are competing for most miserable Mikaelson this year and I have to say I’m rather annoyed your coming for my trophy.” Klaus said to them mockingly. “Things are on the up Marcel and I have called a truce, Hope’s arriving any minute and Hayley’s compelled one of the city’s finest cooks and yet you two have been miserable for days.”

“As long as there’s no daggers in my stockings like that one god awful Christmas I’m sure I’ll get into the festive spirit.” Rebekah replied as she stood up forcing a smile on to her face.

“I must admit even this Christmas still beats that one.” Elijah said as he too stood up and straightened his suit jacket.

“I found it rather amusing,” Klaus retaliated with a cheeky smirk noticing Elijah and Rebekah were hardly feeling festive. “Okay what the bloody hell is going on?”

“You should tell him Rebekah after all this is of your doing.” Elijah snapped at his sister.

“Firstly, none of you would be here if it wasn’t for me so don’t even start blaming me for reuniting us.” Rebekah snapped back.

“Well somebody please tell me before I dig out those bloody daggers for a second Christmas.” Klaus demanded clearly grown tired of his siblings’ secrecy.

“It’s Henrik, he’s alive well he’s a lot more than just alive he’s all kinds of messed up and all he wants for Christmas is to feast on his beloved siblings.” Rebekah revealed before Hope walked into the dining area hugging Hayley.

“Guess whose finally home for Christmas?” Hayley said to them all while hugging her daughter tightly.

“Now how exactly do us Mikaelson’s celebrate Christmas?” Hope asked them while Rebekah and Elijah tried to hide their guilt and her father Klaus remained shocked by her aunt Rebekah’s admission.

Marcel walked into Rousseau's to find Josh wearing a Santa hat while cleaning tables within the bar and listening and dancing along to “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” on his Bluetooth speaker placed on the counter of the bar causing Marcel to laugh at possibly the world’s most innocent vampire before walking over to the counter and switching the speaker off demanding Josh’s attention.

“Hello Marcel,” Josh said as he took of his Santa hat and gushed at the man, he had recently spent a night with. “I’m guessing your not here for a drink considering we’re not open although that tends to not stop most of my clientele.”

“I actually wanted to talk about…” Marcel began to say.

“Davina and Kol coming to the city for Christmas I know Davina already told me.” Josh butted in knowing that wasn’t the topic on Marcel’s mind. “I bet you can’t wait to see Davina again I sure can’t.”

“Well it has been a while but that’s not what I came here to discuss.” Marcel replied.

“Is it about the Mikaelson’s getting a head at the table for the faction meetings because I think that’s a good idea if only to lessen the bloodshed.” Josh added in proving to be very eager to not talk about a certain subject.

“Josh you’re not the first guy I’ve ever been with when your immortal sexuality is a lot simpler than people make it out to be.” Marcel explained to him. “We like who we like when we like them and have no need to apologize for it.”

“Wow where was that kind of thinking when I came out to my parents.” Josh answered him clearly surprised by Marcel’s reaction to their one-night stand.

“It was definitely interesting I mean you’re a lot less shy between the sheets,” Marcel said with a sinister smile “definitely unforgettable however I value our friendship too much for it to ever happen again.”

“Oh, thank god,” Josh breathed a sigh of relief. “I mean no offence but us would’ve been super messy I mean you’re clearly still madly and deeply in love with Rebekah and I tried the whole relationship thing once and it ended it too much pain.”

“I’m glad you and I are on the same page.” Marcel laughed. “However, I don’t think you should write off romance with everyone I know what happened to Aiden broke your heart but the moments you had with him were worth every ounce of pain. Trust me when I say love is truly the best and worst thing that can ever happen to you.”

“So, did you get invited to the Mikaelson’s Christmas?” Josh asked. “Davina’s convinced me to go just what I love Santa and Klaus wrapped up into one holiday I just hope it’s not me that ends up roasted on the open fire.”

“Do you know you’re absolutely adorable when you say stuff like that?” Marcel told him while looking at him with pure admiration.

“Oh no don’t you be looking at me like that!” Josh said clearly nervous by Marcel looking at him. “Shouldn’t you be last minute Christmas shopping for Hope and Davina?”

“I’ve already got their presents sorted.” Marcel replied with a laugh finding Josh’s nervousness intoxicating before vamp speeding to be standing right in front of him so close that Josh could feel Marcel breathing on him, the two beginning to long for each other’s touch.

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised to see you working Josh.” Davina said as she walked in instantly making Marcel and Josh distance themselves from each other. “I’m guessing you’re also here Marcel because you’re doing just about anything you could possibly do to avoid seeing Rebekah until necessary.”

“It’s so good to see you,” Marcel said as he walked over to hug the girl he loved like a daughter. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You got here in perfect timing.” Josh said with a sense of relief in his voice.

Hope and Klaus walk down the stairs in the compound Klaus’ arm lovingly around his daughter as they reach the bottom of the stairs and start making their way to the fountain Hope clearly suspicious of what’s going on with her family knowing when any Mikaelson was quiet it was never a good sign.

“Okay go on dad tell me what’s going on already.” Hope demanded as the two stopped walking and Klaus let go of his daughter. “It’s freaking Christmas our first one together in I don’t know how long certainly the first one I’m going to remember that’s for sure and you’ve all been quiet since arrival. Do you not want me here?”

“There is nobody on this earth I’d rather spend any day with than you Hope.” Klaus replied making it clear to his daughter she was wanted and loved. “I just want you to have the perfect Christmas.”

“Dad I’m fifteen now I’m hardly a kid anymore and even when I was, I went up against the ancestors, unbound aunt Davina from The Hollow and helped Aunt Freya restore Elijah’s mind after his death.” Hope snapped at her father. “I can take care of myself now tell me what’s going on. You’ve spent five years away from me dad don’t come back just to keep me in the dark once again.”

“You are right you’re a Mikaelson after all,” Klaus responded as he lifted his right hand to touch his daughter’s cheek lovingly “one day you are going to become the most powerful witch this world has ever seen. You are everything we ever wanted you to be and so much more Hope, you are this family’s true legacy.”

“Who’s plotting to kill our family now?” Hope asked. “It can’t be The Hollow because she’s gone right?”

“The threat this time is a lot closer to home I’m afraid to say.” Rebekah announced after vamp speeding into the compound.

“Thank god you’re here to explain because to be quite bloody frank I have little clue myself to why our brother is now hungry for our blood.” Klaus told his sister while looking at her furiously.

“So, it turns out this ancient powerful witch brought our youngest brother Henrik back to life and the spell took a toll on him making him a power draining monster he’s already claimed our mother’s spirit.” Rebekah explained before taking a reluctant sigh. “And our eldest brother Finn’s spirit. Finn sacrificed himself so that Bonnie and I could return from the now destroyed ancestral plane.”

“There’s always some pain in the ass witch messing around with our family.” Klaus snapped. “We need to get a hold of Freya and see if there’s some spell or something that can help Henrik.”

“I’ve already called and explained everything to her she should be arriving just in time for Christmas.” Rebekah revealed. “So far there isn’t much she’s found that can help Henrik, but we won’t stop until he’s saved or no longer a threat.”

“This meddling witch you speak of is she the one who removed The Hollow from us all and restored Elijah’s memories?” Klaus asked.

“Yes, he is.” Rebekah answered, “His identity is a whole other story best saved for later.”

“Seems like you’ve been keeping a lot of secrets to yourself Rebekah!” Klaus shouted at Rebekah.

“Don’t you dare come for Aunt Rebekah for doing everything she could to bring us all back if it wasn’t for her none of us would be standing here together.” Hope snapped at her father causing Rebekah to smile at her niece defending her. “We just need to find a way of helping Henrik and getting him back too.”

“You are right.” Klaus mumbled clearly taken aback to be put in his place by his own daughter.

“Bonnie’s also looking into every resource she has to find some sort of solution to this hell and Davina should be due in the city any minute with some possible news.” Rebekah told her brother. “Plus, the witch that created whatever the hell our brother has become is now working alongside Elijah for some reason he will not reveal to me. Even though I was the witch’s alliance at first, but I guess pompous men like to stick together.”

“Can this witch that Elijah is working with be trusted?” Hope asked her aunt.

“Absolutely not.” Rebekah replied.

Elijah walked into St Anne’s Church to see many people gathered while Hayley, Marcel and Bonnie gathering many of the New Orleans together handing out Christmas style hampers causing Elijah to smile seeing Hayley being so kind.

“Elijah what are you doing here?” Hayley asked him after vamp speeding over to him.

“Nothing’s wrong I just wanted to see you.” Elijah said with a soft smile.

“That bad then,” Hayley scoffed. “I thought it would only be a matter of time. Go on tell me what Klaus has done now?”

“Actually, it’s my youngest brother who has created the chaos our family now finds ourselves in.” Elijah replied.

“Marcel said he saw Davina what possibly could Kol have done already?” Hayley asked wondering what Kol had done now.

“Actually, the blame falls on my youngest brother Henrik it appears he’s not as dead as we were once led to believe and now, he seems to be some kind of magical battery determined on killing us all.” Elijah explained to her. “But I don’t want you to be alarmed because I’ve already got things in hand well as in hand as possible.”

“You’ve just told me your long-lost brother Henrik is out to kill the lot of you which last time I checked meant Hope too and I’m not to worry.” Hayley snapped. “How can he possibly be alive?”

“You guys are around vampires we can hear everything.” Marcel told them after vamp speeding over to them.

“He was brought back to life by a powerful witch which practices some long-forgotten magic called Malus.” Elijah revealed to Hayley.

“The witch in question also happens to be Klaus’ first love but nobody has told him that yet I’m assuming.” Marcel butted in shocking Hayley with his admission.

“Hold up I thought Aurora was Klaus’ first love?” Hayley asked them both.

“Well Bonnie told me that Rebekah told her this Nathaniel guy was Klaus’ first love back in their human days so I guess Aurora was Klaus’ first love after no longer being human.” Marcel responded in a gossipy tone.

“But that would mean this witch is like a thousand years old.” Hayley said clearly intrigued by recent news.

“We’re deciding not to tell Klaus about Nathaniel until after Christmas Henrik being alive and wanting to murder us is enough bad news for one Christmas.” Elijah revealed while rolling his eyes.

“Makes sense Klaus has never been one to take bad news well.” Hayley replied. “Can we trust this Nathaniel not to screw us all over?”

“Absolutely not.” Bonnie stated as she walked over to the three of them.

Nathaniel sat on a rocking chair swinging back and forward outside of a small decaying cabin in the woods of Helton when Henrik appeared in front of him a puff of black smoke his eyes still jet black and looking rather angry with his long-time friend.

“You left me trapped for what felt like forever am I supposed to believe you only found a way recently to free me from my cage.” Henrik said as Nathaniel stood up from his chair.

“I admit I could’ve got you out sooner but if I did it would’ve have been for anyone’s good except your own. I needed it to be now Henrik because now is the perfect timing to end my father’s miserable existence and save you.” Nathaniel replied.

“I don’t need saving I’m perfectly fine as I am or at least I am now that you’ve finally seen fit to release me.” Henrik snapped.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me if it wasn’t for me you would’ve been nothing, but a corpse long rotted away into nothing but bones in the dirt. I made you the powerful witch you are today and never forget that.” Nathaniel snapped back at him. “Everything I have done is to protect you and save you from yourself from following a similar fate as my father or soon to be me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Henrik asked with genuine concern as his eyes went back to their normal color.

“The details of my plan are not important Henrik just trust in me to have your best interests in mind like I always have done.” Nathaniel replied before walking over and hugging Henrik. “I’m glad I’ve got you home for Christmas let’s not spend it fighting.”

“I’ve never understood your fascination with Christmas.” Henrik scoffed while breaking off the hug. “It’s not particularly like either of us are very family orientated.”

“You are my family,” Nathaniel told him as he placed his hand on Henrik’s shoulder “you may not be my blood but from the moment I brought you back to life, raised you, cleaned up your endless slaughters you have been my son. Always and Forever.”

“Always and Forever.” Henrik smiled before looking at the cabin. “Why do you always come back to this place?”

“Because it’s the only place that has ever been a home to us.” Nathaniel revealed. “It’s exactly where all of this should end.”

“I guess we should find something to cook for dinner then.” Henrik replied while looking around the woods. “I saw a cafe about 40 miles back we could always go there for Christmas dinner.”

“I’d like that very much.” Nathaniel said with a soft smile clearly beyond happy to be reunited with the man who he considered a son.

Klaus found himself sitting on the edge of his bed in his bedroom at the compound staring into thin air as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that his youngest brother Henrik, the brother whose death he blamed himself for was resurrected by some powerful ancient magic the same type of magic which had somehow removed the Hollow from Klaus, Rebekah, Elijah and Kol.

He had never heard of magic powerful enough to do these things and yet somehow it was all possible in that moment as he struggled with flashbacks of his youngest sibling’s death he wished for his oldest sibling Freya to be there to explain the unexplained knowing that if anyone could explain Malus to him it would be her.

“I’m sorry Niklaus all I wanted was for my family to be reunited.” Rebekah apologised after vamp speeding into his room and taking a seat next to her brother. “The truth is after centuries of craving freedom the last five years without all of you were the most miserable of my life. I got you Elijah and Kol back and for that I’m not sorry I just wish I understood what that cost would be.”

“So, Henrik is labelled some kind of monster that’s what we’ve all been called our entire lives we will find a way to help him somehow.” Klaus replied while placing his arm around Rebekah.

“The Malus witch’s master plan includes saving Henrik’s soul so speak.” Elijah revealed after he too vamp sped into the room and took a seat next to Klaus and Rebekah. “Sure, we have to help this Malus witch kill their father but we happen to have an expertise in killing parents sure usually our own.”

“Who is this witch? Why is he so interested in Henrik’s well-being?” Klaus asked as he stood up form his bed looking down his brother and sister. “Clearly he must be somebody of importance if you haven’t told me their identity yet and clearly, we have history with him if Rebekah trusted him to remove The Hollow.”

“Trust is a strong word Niklaus it was more desperation than anything else.” Rebekah revealed as Hayley suddenly vamp sped into Klaus’ bedroom.

“It’s Nathaniel some guy who was neighbours with you all when you were humans.” Hayley admitted much to Rebekah and Elijah’s shock. “Don’t blame your siblings for not telling you they just feared your reaction whereas I genuinely think if we’re ever going to tell you something like this it’s best to have Hope within close proximity so you don’t overreact and dagger everybody.”

“We were going to tell him after today.” Elijah said giving Hayley a disapproving look as he and Rebekah rose to their feet.

“That makes sense Nathaniel was just a mortal who fled our village before we even turned even if he somehow became a witch, he’d of had no clue about Henrik.” Klaus replied as he struggled to understand what Hayley had just said.

“Actually, he didn’t leave as early as planned and when he heard of word came back for Ayana, she was always like a mother to him there was no way he’d ever leave her with a choice.” Rebekah revealed reluctantly. “Kol killed Ayana and I managed to fight him off Nathaniel, but the blood lust was so new, and I couldn’t restrain myself.”

“You fed on him?” Klaus asked her with a look of disgust in his face as tears began forming in his eyes.

“I wish I never, but control was something that took us all too long to learn.” Rebekah answered her brother. “For some unexplained reason he didn’t die, and I guess that’s when he went down this path of discovery into Malus magic.”

“Malus witches feed on the magic of others especially the darker magics which provides them immortality of sorts and incredible power the reason he didn’t die at Rebekah’s hands is because only a Malus can kill another Malus.” Elijah explained to Klaus who continued to remain painfully silent.

“We’re not sure whether we can trust him or not which may mean he’ll have to be killed somehow.” Hayley said to Klaus.

“Enough!” Klaus snapped before forcing a smile on his face. “Hope is downstairs preparing for a Mikaelson family and that is what she is going to get.”

Nathaniel Malin was a Malus witch by birth but not by nature despite a thousand years of darkness there was still light within him and he had never fully succumbed to the darkness even at times when it would’ve been easier for him if he did. He fought the darkness as he mourned the other mother he knew, he fought the darkness as he spent centuries on the run from his own father and he tried his hardest to help Henrik fight the darkness he had accidentally inflected on him however Henrik may not of been a Malus witch by birth but he certainly was one by nature.

Nathaniel and Henrik had found themselves sitting within a booth in a cafe as Nathaniel watched Henrik tuck into a roast dinner with blood on his hands as Nathaniel look at him with disapproval in his eyes before looking around to see lifeless bodies all around the rundown cafe painted with the blood of Henrik’s victims.

“Less of the judgement Nathaniel.” Henrik told him as he continued to eat his roast dinner. “You know I’ve never been one for an audience while eating.”

“I know but killing them all was hardly necessarily.” Nathaniel replied with a sigh. “I fear for your humanity sometimes Henrik.”

“You’ve killed as much people as I have Nathaniel maybe you should worry about your own.” Henrik responded while continuing to eat.

“I kill for survival for power I kill because sacrifices need to be made to keep us both alive, but I never get off on the kill.” Nathaniel told him. “Sometimes I believe you enjoy it a little too much.”

“We’ve been killing for centuries Nathaniel and I’ve seen you in action you enjoy it just as much as I do but you fight it because you want to hold on to whatever humanity you claim to still have.” Henrik explained to him as he stopped eating. “Your Malus blood is the only reason why we are both alive and yet you continue to despite it.”

“I know you were younger when all this happened to you, but I spent an entire life as a human or an entire life believing I was human.” Nathaniel said. “I was a good person and I have no illusion that there’s good left inside of me, but I won’t freely dance in the darkness as of it’s anything other than sentence.”

“You never change,” Henrik laughed. “Very well I promise to not kill anybody else for the entirety of the day consider it your Christmas gift.”

“Thank you.” Nathaniel replied with a sigh of relief.

“Now please tell my why after all this time you continue to defy me killing my siblings?” Henrik asked him.

“Because their your family and unlike your parents they have done nothing but love you.” Nathaniel warned him. “Killing anymore siblings would be the point of no return and don’t even get me started on how furious I am with you over what happened to Finn.”

“You are my family!” Henrik shouted as he stood up. “I barely even remember them all they are to me is power ready to be drained. You’re my family not them.”

“I will not be spoken to like that killing the Mikaelson’s is not on our agenda.” Nathaniel snapped back as he stood up.

“If we got rid of them, we’d have more than enough power to get rid of Augustus.” Henrik told him clearly furious by Nathaniel’s demands.

“Then we lose everything!” Nathaniel shouted raising his voice higher.

“Everything is already lost Nathaniel you’re just stuck in a past where you meant something to them.” Henrik said with a harsh tone. “They would kill you without pause and you allow their existence because of feelings you should’ve been over centuries ago.”

“Killing them isn’t a part of the plan and would only derail things as for my supposed feelings they are in the past and I am not.” Nathaniel stated trying to convince both himself and Henrik.

Klaus, Hope, Rebekah, Elijah and Hayley are stood within the compound watching the bonfire in front of them burn only to be shocked to see Freya walk into the compound hand in hand with Keelin and immediate attention turns to Freya who’s very clearly pregnant at least five months by the size of the bump leaving everyone shocked as nobody knew anything about this pregnancy.

“I guess there’s a new Mikaelson on the way.” Hayley said with a smile before going over to hug Freya and Keelin. “Congratulations guys.”

“Well I guess I’m not the only Mikaelson sister keeping secrets from the family.” Rebekah joked before going over to hug Freya. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“I’ve got to say I’m shocked that you kept this from us Freya.” Elijah said to his older sister as he too gave her a hug.

“I never thought I’d ever be with child again after everything that happened to me and I never thought I’d ever love again but I’m glad I was wrong.” Freya revealed as she held on to her fiancé Keelin’s hand.

“Well we all know you’ve been saving us or kicking or asses when needed for long enough it’s about time some child has to suffer you instead of your siblings.” Klaus said with a laugh before hugging both Freya and Keelin.

“I guess this means I’m going to have a little cousin.” Hope said before being the last Mikaelson to walk over and hug Freya.

“I was going to tell you all once we had defeated The Hollow but then Nathaniel Malin became the latest threat knocking our family’s doors.” Freya explained herself. “I’ve only met the witch once or twice over the years and he’s not one to be messed with however he’s nothing compared to his father that man is wicked enough to claim aunt Dahlia’s admiration.”

“Let’s not concern ourselves with our enemies tonight.” Klaus told his older sister while pulling in Rebekah and Hope in each arm for a hug. “The entire family is here and tonight we celebrate tomorrow we’ll discuss our battle plans.”

“I guess that means it’s time to dine and fill the humans with enough drink to pass out.” Kol said as he and Davina opened the dining are doors to reveal a table filled with a full Christmas feast with a delicious turkey on the table.

“I’m sure us witches will put some of you vampires to shame.” Davina replied to her husband with a smile.

“I’m not late, am I?” Marcel asked as he vamp sped into the compound.

“You’re just on time.” Klaus responded with a smile as Hope walked over to Marcel and gave him a hug.

“While you’re in such a good mood Klaus did, I happen to mention I’ve invited Bonnie to dinner too?” Rebekah told her brother only to laugh when he rolled his eyes.

“I hope I’m still invited.” Josh said as he too vamp sped into the compound before looking at the bonfire making him terrified. “Oh, crikey there’s a big fire.”

“Everyone is invited,” Klaus said with a smile that made Josh uneasy as he put his arm around him and gave him a hug surprising everyone there. “That smell is oddly familiar.”

HERE WITHOUT YOU- A TOM HOLLAND ONESHOT

Not to be confused with my “MEETING TOM HOLLAND” Series. i heard Here Without You- 3 Doors Down and listened to it for like 3 nights before falling asleep and it hit all the right feels. still getting a feel for writing for Tom so feed back is appreciated. also for the full effect listening to here without you by 3 doors down helps. 

~summary~ Tom is SUPER busy and misses you like crazy. this one is a little more angsty but mostly just !sadTom !sadreader but still vv cute. 

i woke up to the grey New York sky.another rainy fall day, normally you wouldn’t mind. You dreaded the commute to work. you dreaded having to come home to an empty apartment yet again. you missed being held, you swore you forgot what holding Tom felt like. the pillow you hugged at night not doing you any good anymore. it’s been at least four months since you last saw Tom. from promoting his latest whenever he could, to him constantly back and forth between Vancouver and LA working on his new project it felt like forever. you would facetime when you could. He’d made many a promise to fly home for the day only to have his plans dashed. you’d made plans to go out and see him only to have his schedule change last minute. between the two of you constantly working you’d think you were never meant to see each other again. You checked your phone and saw a few texts from tom. He was telling me all he did on set that night. it was a night shoot so he wasn’t able to call me before work. he was so sorry. 

“only a few weeks darling.” he sent as a voice message. hearing his voice sent a pang of loneliness through me. I played it again and kept it. I got out of bed, the floor cold against my feet, the wind whistling through the busy streets below me. I went to the bathroom and went through my usual business. i looked at toms side of the bathroom clean and untouched for the past few months and sighed. ugh, i hate myself for feeling like this. he’s not dead, that thought only hurting my heart even more. He’ll be back, i thought to myself trying perk myself up. A few more weeks. i sighed as thoughts of something coming up, preventing him from actually coming back raced through my mind. i ended up making myself sad again. I was allowed to be sad, my feelings were valid. it’s been four months. i thought trying to convince myself a i walked into the walk in closet we shared. Four months... wow. i thought back to the last night Tom and i spent together. We were at the premiere for A spider-man movie. We shared many a kiss in that theater that night and that night at the hotel we said our goodbyes with hopes of seeing each other sooner than later. now here we are far past later. i often wondered if he felt the same way i did. was he as lonely as me, did he miss me as much as i missed him. i had no idea how insecure i really could be if left alone to my own devices for too long. a text or phone call always coming in at the right time to save me from myself. i picked a long sleeve t-shirt and one of tom’s spider-man flannels he “borrowed” from set for me.

 you worked at a record store in Brooklyn, you practically owned it with all the work you did for them. Every day off you got you had to fight for and usually ended up spending them alone and upset at ruined plans. The last four months have been less than ideal and it was all taking a toll on you. you used to love working at the record shop and now it’s just another thing to pass the day. you never knew you were capable of feeling this low because of love. you’ve dealt with depressive episodes before all with completely valid reasons. you hated admitting to yourself that you felt this way because of how dependent you’d become on another person. yet that thought alone made you so happy, and hopeful. you loved tom with all your heart after struggling to let him in and let it happen. you felt a full range of emotions with him, you didn’t have to act or hide or put a facade. as much as that could scare you it was ultimately more comforting in the end.

 I looked in the mirror one last time as i brushed through my hair deciding on a messy bun because this weather was doing nothing for my hair. i put on a little make up feeling less than inspired to look good today. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a banana from the bowl sitting on the counter. i’d have to go grocery shopping later tonight or tomorrow. I grabbed my raincoat and umbrella and my work bag and made my way down the hall of our apartment complex. i approached the door dreading stepping out into this rain. i took a deep breath and swung open the door and opened my umbrella. The sound of the rain hitting the top of my umbrella kind of soothing. i had one headphone with some sad music playing. The one perk i love working at the record store was getting to borrow records from what we had in stock. i loved asking customers for their recommendations on artists they bought that i’d never heard of. it was always so much fun discovering new music, i’d send it to tom. I can’t wait til he gets home, we’d dance around the house listening to music like we used to. He was always a great customer coming in once a week to buy some new music for us at home. The manager loved when he came into store, it was great publicity. Once at work i emptied my bag back onto the shelves and went to my spot behind til. i had to pick our rotation for the day. i picked one of the albums i was listening to that weekend, a new release from the week and some of our customer favourites. I truly loved working at this store. We had polls online and customers would vote on their favourites run by me. i’d tally the votes at the end of the week. i hoped one day i’d be able to own a record shop like this one day. The slow tracks came to life. a perfect start to my morning. i checked my phone, i sent a good morning message with a selfie to tom knowing he’d check it when he could. i could only imagine how tired he must be. I loved how much of himself he truly put into his work. He worked so hard and he deserves all the good opportunities that come his way. i will stand by his side as long as he’ll have me as his number one supporter. 

Tom’s POV 

I woke up to my alarm screaming at me. i sighed. it was all a dream once again. I missed Y/N so much it hurt to wake up in bed alone. I picked up my phone and shut off the alarm. I had a few hours before i had to be on set. 

“Good morning my love.” was what i saw, i opened my phone to see her beautiful face, i see the hurt in her eyes, the fake smile not working on me these past few weeks. i know she’s sad and lonely, it hurts me to know that i’m the reason for that. she’s at work, i wish i could call her. 

“morning love.” i send back. “miss you.” 

“miss you too.” she send back followed quickly by “What are you up to today?” 

“call time in 2 and half hours. probably go out for breakfast.” i lied, i’d be in this hotel room dreading going out. Fans figured out the cast was staying here. i was on high security to and from set. not allowed to go out much. 

“That’s good!” she sent back “call me tonight?” she asked

“yes, for sure.” i replied 

“i have customers.” she sent with an eyeroll emoji indicating she had to go. I turned on the clock radio needing something to drown out the too silent hotel room. i flipped through the room service menu. the words hit me like a knife in my chest. 

A hundred days have made me older since the last time that i saw your pretty face  A thousand lies have made me colder And I don't think I can look at this the same. All the miles that separate Disappear now when I'm dreamin' of your face.I'm here without you baby But you're still on my lonely mind. I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time.

I dream about Y/N all the time, It’s been so long since i felt her kiss, he always cold hands, her arms wrap around me from behind when she wanted my attention. All her little quirks, our dancing around the house, The way she managed to make me feel real despite whatever was going on around us. i can’t wait to go home and not have someone watching me like a hawk, to feel my bed, my home. have someone who knows the real me. i love my job, but it’s exhausting to put on a happy face when your so tired. i’d done nothing but work for the past four months. promo tours, shoots, travelling. i haven’t even been to the UK at all this year. I sighed as i listened to the song some more. i ordered my breakfast and found myself listening to the song  again and again. i did some googling and sent a text to y/n

“track 6″ and it was picture of the album. “listen to it at home off to set. love you will call tonight”

Y/N’s POV. 

i was almost done my shift, I had a good morning, a few tourists had come in and loved the vibe of the store and even tipped me. i was almost completely distracted from my bad mood. my phone buzzed a text from tom. He sent me this song to listen to at home. i searched around the store knowing we had this in stock. I found it and signed it out for myself. My replacement came in as if on cue. i was now excited to head home and listen to the record. i knew of this band but never actually listened to them. i clocked out and made the rainy commute home. i was able to enjoy the sounds of the rain on my umbrella once again soothing me. i picked up a sandwich from the diner down the road from our apartment and made my way home. once inside i resisted the urge to play the song right away but instead opted to change into something comfy enough to go out grocery shopping later tonight. i cracked the window in the living room to let the soothing rain sounds in. i grabbed my late lunch and set it down on the coffee table, i put the record on the turn table and grabbed the remote. i hadn’t realized how cold i really was until i was comfy under the throw blanket tom bought my for christmas this passed year. it was now spring. the last real date i had with tom was eating at a rooftop restaurant in Manhattan just before new years after we came back from our christmas travels. 

I pressed play on the remote and heart the sad guitar intro, oh lord. The words sounding pained, i could hear tom saying this and feeling the same way. By time the chorus hit, tears were streaming down my face, i couldn’t hold it in anymore. i let a soft cry out as the song played. i missed him so fucking much and i hated myself for it. He didn’t need to feel bad about leaving me behind. if he was as hurt as me, he didn’t need that added stress. the song ended, i pressed the button to play it again. I sat there listening to it. Tom was so sweet, he knew the way to my heart was through song. I hated that he felt sad about missing me. He didn’t deserve to be sad. Ugh i loved him so much. i wanted nothing more than to hold him. for him to hold me. tell each other we’d be okay. why does love have to hurt so much. i thought to myself as i played it again. i took a few deep breaths and composed myself. I picked up the phone and typed out a message to tom 

“hello my love. how are you feeling? i hope works treating you good. i miss you so fucking much, but you knew that.” i sent it with a picture of the record player in the background. the song now beginning it’s fourth rotation. i listened to it once last time before spinning the rest of the album. i ate my sandwich, still feeling down but feeling better after my cry. despite the song being heart wrenching it actually brightened my spirits. i thought of the next two weeks without tom and thought it would be lonely i could only await what our reunion had in store for us. our love was special, I met tom after he rose to fame but we connected on such a real level it scared me at first. i knew he was the one for me from the start and he continued to prove that to me when i didn’t believe it.

 i did a load of laundry, made a shopping list and quickly went out to the grocery store. i saw couples holding hands, men buying flowers, stealing kisses in the aisles as they pushed their cart. i knew tom would be calling me soon so i rushed home. “on my way back to the hotel. will call soon.” was a text i got in  the uber sending a small jolt through me. once home i quickly put the groceries that would spoil away, my phone on the counter, ever present in my mind like a ticking time bomb only i couldn’t wait for it to go off. i was in the freezer organizing the chicken i bought when the phone rang scaring ten years off my life. tom’s face shone across the screen. my heart racing as i struggled to answer it in my excitment. 

“Hello?” i said

“Hello love.” He said his voice sounding tired 

“Tom.” i said sighing “hi!” 

“you okay?” He asked 

“yes.” i said “just running about the house putting away groceries.”

“oh i can cal-”

“NO!” i interrupted him “i was just finished.” i said making my way to the couch

“you sure your okay?” He asked 

“no.” i said hoping i wouldn’t end up crying. “i actually hate you for sending me that song.” i laughed 

“aww darling.” he said laughing “ did i make you cry?” he asked 

“yeah.” i said as my throat got thick and tears welled up in my eyes.

“aww my love.” he said sounding so so sad and that just made me cry even more. “i didn’t mean to upset you.” he said sounding sorry

“no.” i said trying to sound normal “it didn’t upset me.” i said my voice uneven” it just made me realize how lucky i am.” i said really crying now. “i- i was doubting myself again” i admitted “ a-and i wasn’t sure how much longer i could put up with feeling like that and it was scaring me and i just love you so much and i know you do too.” i said trying not to sound like i was outright sobbing. 

“Awww darling. i hate putting you through this.” he said sounding sad 

“no. i hate putting you through this.” i said stopping him. “the last thing you need on your workload is worrying about me.” i said 

“y/n” he said sternly “worrying about you will always be my number one priority. you’re unfortunately stuck with me and all that comes with me.” he said “the only time i’ll ever stop loving you is if you ever tell me to stop.” He said “and i hope that i never drive you to that.” he said sound defeated

“tom.” you said “don’t talk like that.” i said through my stream of tears. “i’m afraid i’ll love you for the rest of my life.” i admitted 

“good.” he said “hold on.” he said then suddenly my phone was ringing with tom wanting to facetime. i answered and saw his face, his beautiful eyes tried, his lips looking as kissable as ever. his curls a mess all over his head like he’d been running his hands through them. “you look absolutely stunning.” he said i looked in my reflection i had swollen eyes and a red nose, my cheeks were damp from the tears. i couldn’t help but laugh at his comment “i mean it. two more weeks and i’ll be home to kiss those beautiful lips of yours.” he said “play the song.” he said i reached for the remote on the table and pressed play, it came on. we sat there staring at each other listening to it. “oh the dreams i’ve had of you darling.” he said. a hint of lust in his voice 

“we’re not leaving this house for a week.” i said to him. 

“can’t wait.” he said smirking at me. just like that, i felt okay again.i knew tom loved me, i knew he would always love me. “i’ve been shopping.” he says 

“really now?” i ask 

“yes, stopped off on rodeo drive one afternoon.” he said “and all i could think of was what you would like, what you would want.” 

“Tom...” i scolded 

“don’t worry i didn’t go crazy.” he said “i got stuff for my mom too.” he said “ harry wanted a new watch.”

“tom.” i said disapprovingly 

“I have nothing better to do out here!” he said “and i miss everyone so much.”

“i’ll book us a flight later tonight.” i said

“thank you.” he said. i yawned i didn’t mean to i knew he would pick up on it. “go to bed babe.” he said 

“i want to talk to you.” i said sounding sad already 

“i’ll get ready for bed with you.” he said. 

“fine.” i agreed. i turned off the music. “we have some groceries to put away.” i sighed as i put him on the counter behind the sink so he could see the whole kitchen. 

“place looks nice and clean.” he said 

“yeah, theres’ no one here to mess it up.” i said laughing as i put some boxes in the cupboard. i turned to see him make a pouy face. “kidding” i said blowing him a kiss. two more weeks and i’d be standing at the stove with tom hopefully wrapped around me. i turned to put stuff in the pantry and was bent over looking for something and i heard tom 

“missed that ass.”  i stood up 

“i’m sure you did.” i said smirking at him through the phone. i placed the last few things 

“Where to next?” he asked 

“brush my teeth and change.” i said 

“oooh.” he said i just rolled my eyes at him as i walked into the bedroom and through the bathroom. i grabbed my tooth brush and started 

“Brush brush brush your teeth.” tom sang through the phone nearly causing me to choke on my toothpaste.i heard him giggle as i was rinsing my mouth. i gave him the finger. and took my hair down to brush it. a few more flirty remarks from tom as i was changing and i was in bed. i placed tom on his pillow and looked at him. 

“good night Y/N.” he said i’ll stay right here.” he said as i was drifting off to sleep. 

4 days until tom came home,we talked every day leading up to today. He was busy busting out the few last minute days of shooting and finishing up what he needed to get done. He was so happy he was almost done. I was working hard to get things ready for tom over here. I washed the sheets, i made sure to go out and buy all over our favourite things to cook together, i had a nice coming home gift for him. a hoodie, A new pair of sweats , a nice baseball cap. everything comfy he’d need for you guys trip to the UK in a week and a half. i also had a case of his favourite beer waiting. you asked his dad to send it to you. i was all ready for him so now the the last two days have been dragging on like crazy and there was four more to go. i walked into the shop my late afternoon shift starting soon. i saw my manager sitting at the til

“did he not show up again?” i asked referring to our one coworker who was always dipping on shifts last minute. but then  i saw him coming out of the back room with a box of records. 

“i just needed to grab a few things.” my manager said as i approached the counter “can you get me the receipt book in the back real quick i don’t want to lose my train of thought” he said eyeing me a small smile on his face.

“k” i thought. he was being so weird, maybe we finally had enough for that expansion he’s been talking about for years. i thought to myself as i walked towards his office. i saw a hooded figure standning in the room. fear rose in my chest as i gasped. the figure turned the first thing i saw was the chestnut curls and my heart nearly stopped. his face came into view his eyes lighting up at the sight of me. i ran towards him, tears sneaking up on me. i crashed into his body, his arms catching me. my heart was racing, my eyes were blurred with tears. 

“oh. tom.” was all i was able to choke out. it felt absolutely amazing to feel his arms around me, i felt safe, content, ecstatic.

“happy to see me love?” he asked holding me out at arms lenght “aww don’t cry.” he said his voice soft as he wiped away the tears. “i love you.” he said pulling my back into him, taking a deep breath. 

“so, you can have the rest of the week off as well as next week.” my manager said in the door way clearing his throat. 

“are you sure?” i asked wiping the tears from my face, pulling my shirt down. trying to look presentable again.

“yes, you deserve it.” he said “i’ll be fine here.” he said 

“don’t get too used to life without me.” i teased as i walked over and gave shook his hand.

“wouldn’t dream of it.” he said looking around his office i’d spent one afternoon organizing. “get out of here.” he said “there’s a car in the back.” i smiled at him in thanks and made my way out to the ally with tom. sure enough there was a car waiting at the end of the block. i stopped and pushed tom against the wall. i looked at his lips and he looked at mine, his eyes darting up as he pulled my face towards him. our lips met all the feelings of loneliness and hurt and sadness gone now fueled by the fire in my heart and soul. recharged as we kissed in the alley. his hands wrapped around me pulling me close to him. the kiss felt like it went on forever yet i missed him the moment i pulled away. 

“let’s go home.” i said grabbing his hand and leading him towards the car. 

You Are The Universe Experiencing Itself

January 30, 2018

Do not become / A “new you”. / This year, / Become / A better You.

Hello there, loyal readers. This update is going to have quite a quantity of information shared with you all, so be prepared not to be able to read all of this in one sitting. I’ll have headings as I usually do so that if there is something anyone wants to skip over, it’s easier to do so.

Hair and Color

More than two months ago, I decided that I needed a change. I’d had my red hair for so long, then ended up growing it out for various reasons, and I feel like having dyed hair makes it easier for strangers to come up to me and start a conversation. So, I booked an appointment with my hairdresser. Well, not my usual hairdresser, as he moved to another salon, but this one was friends with my trusted hairdresser. Plus, she did my dad’s hair, so I figured why not?

I wrote this a while back to post as another entry, but ended up not publishing it because, well, we’ll get to that later.

November 12, 2018

Got my hair cut and colored today. I have been deliberating on getting my hair cut lately as my hairdresser moved salons, and It’s about a half hour away… My hair has been kind of a touchy subject lately. But my dad convinced me that I was beginning to look a little too shaggy, or as he so eloquently put It, “homeless”. So, I booked an appointment with Annie, who cuts his hair and my grandmother’s, but today was our first time doing my hair. She’s a really cool individual plus she’s friends with my hairdresser so I figured I’d give her a try.

I’m really glad I did! She did an absolutely amazing job! My head fell only about three times and getting it colored was painless. Between her being careful but confident, and my Spinraza strengthened muscles, and Dad when he was needed, the three of us made a good team.

Originally, I was just going to do blue highlights. I’ve missed having my hair as a talking point for strangers, and I didn’t want to do red again, so I figured why not do something totally seemingly out of character?! I’ve thought about doing crazy colors before, but I have the confidence of a… Okay, everything has more confidence than I do when it comes to my appearance or personality. Anyway, I’ve been slowly trying to get back to my old cheerful self that did what she wanted to do because It made her happy, not because she wanted to Impress someone other than herself.

So that’s what I did.

When Annie showed me the shade of blue that I was thinking of doing, it was on a ring of other colors as well. In noticing this, an Idea was forming in my head, with the conversation that I had with my grandmother playing in the background.

“May I see the purple?” I asked with curiosity.

Who said I only had to have one color highlighted into my hair?

That’s how I ended up with glorious highlights of blue and purple.

It wasn’t until about two months later that I got to refresh my glorious cosmic hair, as my hairdresser had gotten sick the day I was originally going to redo it, and then I got sick on the day I rebooked with her. Which leads me into my next heading.

A Spin On Colds

Yes, that’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I got sick recently. Directly after Christmas, in fact. It was rather an interesting holiday this year as my grandfather came down with something right before my aunt flew in from New Jersey. So instead of spending Christmas with my grandparents like we have every year prior, my aunt and I slept over at my dad’s, so I wasn’t near germs. I have, I’m sorry, I had managed to stay healthy and not get sick for almost two years this coming February. However, after three late nights, and exhibiting much more energy than I have for quite a few years, my body ended up giving in to the sick life. This time, though, something was different. This time, I didn’t go downhill like I always do. This time, I got a regular old head cold.

Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. That first morning when my sore throat began to break, I coughed, and I sounded like I was drowning. Just like every sickness I’ve had to endure since I first started this seemingly endless battle with my own body back in 2015. My dad sounded more irritated than I can describe when he heard this cough first thing that morning, but nonetheless turned me on my side like I do every morning to get my glug out and set up my nebulizer to give me a treatment. Granted, I believe it may have been an hour that it took to get this stuff out, but the thing is, I got it out. And it stayed out. It would come back a bit every so often and if I didn’t keep up with my decongestants along with my nebulizer treatments, I’d end up getting really stuffy and would feel an allergy tickle in my sore throat, but it never went beyond this. One of the days, though, my throat hurt so much that I had to use my phone to communicate by having it read off the words I was typing. Luckily, that only lasted for one day. The day after that, it still didn’t feel great and I had to periodically have my phone talk for me, but this was all normal. No drowning in my own lungs, no wishing it would all just end, no epic depression after realizing I was sick again. Just felt… Sick.

Now, this is something absolutely huge in my life because I now know that if I do get sick, this is all that will happen. I now don’t have to live in constant paranoia that if I get sick, I might die. Why have I come to this conclusion? How could I possibly know that this wasn’t just a fluke and that this wasn’t just a coincidence? Well, first off, I don’t believe in coincidences. Secondly, I would have to have absolutely no knowledge of my own body to think that this situation will not replicate itself. Every single time I got sick before, it didn’t matter if it was from pain, stress, fatigue, whatever, I would end up going downhill and not being able to breathe without extreme fear of drowning without my Bipap. This time, I spent one full day with my breathing helper and I was actually able to eat. Which was absolutely amazing since my appetite has been rather small since my fifth Spinraza injection, resulting in me eating less and less which most likely did not help my body fight off this cold in the first place. Since I got over my sickness about a week and a half after coming down with it, my appetite has luckily increased. Dinner isn’t fun trying to get down still, but the rest of the day I am actually eating.

I cannot vocalize enough how grateful I am for being able to say that Spinraza has absolutely turned my life on its axis. If it weren’t for this incredible medication, I do not believe that my cold would have simply stayed as a cold the way it is supposed to.

A week ago, I did finally end up getting my hair redone and I am absolutely in love with it again as I actually went back to my pixie cut.

Cue cheesy smile

Written in the Stars

Even though Christmas was not at all what we had anticipated, there were a few good things that came out of it. I managed to send my friend in New Jersey a home made present created by yours truly, which in turn showed me that I can actually sew with a needle and thread now. I got photos with Santa and his wife who travel around my grandparent’s neighborhood with the fire department and a fireman came up to me with a hat saying I could come work for them any time I wished. I was buzzing by the end of that night even when I knew we couldn’t have our normal Christmas Eve dinner together. My family discovered that our long-time friends and neighbors were our secret Santa that did the 12 Days of Christmas with a gift waiting outside our front door every day from the fourteenth of December to the twenty-fifth. But what really made an impact on me this Christmas was what was in my stocking. A book. But not just any book, no, this book was a book of poetry. Light Filters In written by Caroline Kaufman was in my stocking and when I read the poem written on page eleven, I felt as though I was reading my own thoughts. For the first time, what I had been trying to explain to others, but mostly myself, was written down in this two-hundred poem book created by a female the same age as I am.

Poetry has been a fairly large interest of mine since I had to write my poem for class which I added to my video for the SMA Video Contest. Especially once my dad introduced me to The Doors when he made me watch the movie with Val Kilmer starring as Jim Morrison. That man made me want to write more poetry, then I read Ms. Kaufman’s poetry and I decide that I will follow in her footsteps, but with my own spin of my tires. So far, I have twenty-three poems written and I am not stopping there. Especially when all of this made me realize that I have been writing poetry for most of my life without even being conscious of it. I’ve always loved trying to write songs, but I could never figure out a chorus. I thought poetry had to rhyme, but I realized that this is a fallacy. Which has opened a portal that I never knew existed.

Which kind of brings me to my next topic, which is going to be under this heading because this is all pretty connected.

As I mentioned earlier, I entered a contest that was to explain what it is like living with SMA for me. I placed fourth, but I had and have absolutely no idea how to promote my creations. However, the first, second, and third place winners did. The reason why I am bringing this up is due to an email I received a few weeks back. Writing this down is not easy, even though I never knew him personally, he was and is a part of the SMA family and participated in the same contest I decided to partake in. Ryan Cotter, the third-place winner, passed away at the beginning of December due to complications caused by the disease we both endure. He was 17 years old and excited to attend college after he graduated this year and was accepted to Arizona State University’s Digital Culture degree program as he was fascinated by the creation of videos and luckily, he had the utilities to allow him to experiment and fulfill his want to create with technology.

Now, I have had this information in my possession for a few weeks now and I honestly have no idea where to pocket it. Hence this update being much later than I had intended. I am about to confess something that may or may not end up bringing hate mail in my comments or inbox, but I feel like this information needs to be out there. Ryan ended up impacting me in a way that I never imagined I could be impacted.

I never liked being around, associated with, or promoting the fact that I am apart of a disabled community. I never wanted to do the video contest as it ended up making me relive my darkest moments. I never made it all the way through each video that was also entered into the contest because I could not bare to see others like me. I never like the fact that I am disabled and never want anyone to acknowledge that I am unless it involves my limitations as I’ll end up beating myself up over something I cannot do if it is brought to my attention.

All of these things kept me from watching Ryan Cottor’s video before he passed. All of these things kept me from discovering that he and I had a lot in common and that we could have developed a friendship. All because I was selfish and did what I get angry at everyone else for doing. Judging someone before I get to know them. Due to this, I have been a big ball of guilty energy. I know that I cannot change the past, I know it’s a bit too late to ask for forgiveness, but I would give every injection I have had of Spinraza to him if it meant he could have lived the life he should have lived. However, this is only something that can happen in my imagination, so what I will do to try and set things right is to allow myself to become a better version of myself. Isn’t that what everyone else does this time of year? Make new years resolutions? Well this is mine.

I promise to become a better version of myself that has theories to suit facts instead of facts to suit theories. To know absolutely everything I can about a situation before believing I already do. To be an advocate for the disabled community that will not sugarcoat the truth to make it easier to swallow.

I may appear cynical at times, but the reality behind having such a debilitating disease is not a kind one. However, there are those like Ryan who would never allow that to be his reality, which allowed him to live life the way he wanted to. Not all of us are that fearless, but we can strive to be. The way I will strive to be fearless is to put together a book of poetry written by yours truly. Becoming an even better writer is what I will work on this year. I have taken my six months off, now it’s time to work. I don’t know if I will go to college, I don’t know if I will suddenly be able to walk with Spinraza leading the way like Venom does for Eddie when he heals him after his motorcycle accident, I don’t know if a celestial anomaly will hit the earth while I sleep and wipe out humanity’s only home, I don’t know if I will ever pluck up the courage to tell someone I love them, I don’t know if the next time I get sick that I will be able to get well again. None of us have any guarantees in this world, so we have to live it without fear and with an understanding that our lives are our own, to not let anyone else take anything away from it and only add to it.

I will be trying to add to this blog at least every week from now on. That way it will be easier to keep track of new advances in my strength and so forth.

I warned you this would be a long one. Thank you for reading until the end. If anyone has any questions, or just wants to chat, I will have all my contact information in my bio of my blog.

As this entry began with a poem, it will also end with one.

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

Set in Drums of Autumn. Canon Divergence when Murtagh is still alive. Obviously spoilers if you haven’t read DOA yet. But at this point, you will probably read this anyways, but at least I gave you the warning!

A/N: Well, Murtagh is alive. And this is just my take on how he might come back into the storyline.  Enjoy!

I found that I couldn’t stop staring.  She was here- Bree- my Bree- no *our* Bree had found us.

The child was definitely a Fraser. Stubborn, loyal, loved her family like no other, and had fulfilled her sole purpose it seemed.

I was attempting to make dinner. I had taken some of the vegetables from my stock and some meet, throwing together a mix of veggies and stew to try and make Bree’s first home made 18th century meal something she would have possibly had back in the 20th century.

Yet, at all my attempts of cooking, I could not stop staring.

Watching the two of the of them- the two of the most important people in my life- I could have sworn time had stopped.

The way Bree rolled her shoulders when I told her she didn’t have to help me cook, and the way Jamie had let a small breath out when I told him the same thing.

‘Sassenach, surely ye wanna catch up with the lass?’ Jamie had said. He was nervous, I could see the lines on his face and the small shift in his step from side to side as he stood in front of me. He was acting like a petulant thirteen year old Brianna who had been trying to convince me that she did not need a babysitter.

‘I had the keeping of her for twenty years, love. Surely whatever it is she wants to tell me can wait thirty more minutes.’ I replied as I had started to pull the veggies out. ‘Plus, why don’t you get more acquainted with her now— since it’s just us in the house for the night until the others return tomorrow. She’s your daughter Jamie. She won’t bite you.’ I laughed.

‘She’s no’ just my daughter Sassenach, she’s our daughter.’ Jamie said as he turned to look at Bree who was staring outside the house. ‘Ye werena kidding when ye said the lass had my red hair. I mean, ye ken tell from those pictures, but to see it in the flesh. Lord have mercy.’

‘Told you so.’ I laughed as I placed a hand on his cheek. ‘I will tell you, she always loved her red hair, even from a young age. Even the wee bit of curls she gets from me. But— at the end of the day those damn Fraser genes were definitely dominant. She got more from you, than me. Now go. That’s an order solider.’ I said and Jamie kissed the palm of the hand that I had placed on his face.

I had looked over my shoulder to see Bree had been watching us, and slightly blushed. She had never seen me act like this with Frank and I couldn’t help but think she didn’t know what to think either.

‘Go.’ I said as I turned him towards him our daughter and smacked the small side of his arse.

I had spent the next thirty minutes puttering through kitchen trying to put together some food and not burn it- while also taking the time to watch over my family. My god, I had longed for this sight- my husband and child, our child, and me- like this for nearly twenty years. It was a hard reality to accept.

“Yes, I finished in school. I was studying history.” I heard Bree say as she flipped through some kind of notebook it appeared. “But after Scotland, I don’t know. Things changed. And Roger. Well he encouraged me to try my hand at engineering.”

I let out a small choke. I knew who Roger was - and what he might very well be to Brianna, but I had yet to tell Jamie- the very Scottish, traditionalist, Highlander that he was- his daughter might have a suitor. My choke must have been louder than I meant- because they both turned to look at me.

“Mama, are you okay?” Bree asked as her eyes looked directly at me. Thankfully in this moment, while I did have a glass face, Jamie had never seen me reprimand or correct Bree- most of my motherly looks were during our time apart- and I have Bree a ‘don’t say a word yet’ eyes and she nodded softly at me. While Jamie didn’t know what our wordless exchange was, he could tell it meant something and I made a mental note to speak to both of them about this matter- alone.

“Sassenach, what the lass said, ye alright?” Jamie asked as he looked at me.

“I’m fine. Almost burned my finger.” I said as a lame excuse and smiled, turning back to the hearth.

“So, engineering you were saying. What exactly is that?” Jamie asked as he pointed down to the notebook.

“Well. It’s kind of like an architect and a builder. I am sure Mama has told you about electricity and indoor plumbing.” Bree said as she let out a small chuckle that resembled Jamie’s so much it took my breath away.

“I ken a wee bit.” Jamie replied.

“So, an engineer uses math and science; numbers and measurements and theories and such- and help build things like that. Sometimes engineers build buildings and houses and other things too, it all just depends on what you want to do. I’m not sure what I want to do... But I was right to change my major. I had been fulfilling history mindlessly, because, well I felt an obligation to Daddy.”

I gripped my spoon a bit tighter making my knuckles go white as Brianna mentioned Frank. It mustn’t have shaken Jamie though, because he made no Scottish noise or even raised a question to it.

“Ye mam said ye were loyal, it was no’ bad choice choosing history at all. But Bree ye do have a good hand— these drawings are verra nice. I ken you’ll make a great, engineer, one day. Ye ken who else had a good hand for drawing? Yer grandmother Ellen.” Jamie said. I watched him take her hand into his and he squeezed it gently. My heart felt like it might burst. “Yer mam canna draw to save her life, but she ken sew someone up the best I ever seen. And me, well, I’m no’ much better on paper myself. That Fraser trait came from my mam. I’m sure o’ it.”

“I... Well, let me just say. I’m glad to hear these things. I make a lot more sense than I used too.” Bree said.

I pulled the stew off the fire and placed it on the table. “Brianna Ellen,” I said and stopped for a minute not sure which last name to use, but my meaning came across. “You have always made sense to me.”

“Brianna.... Ellen...” Jamie choked as he stood. “Christ.” He said and muttered something in Gaelic.  Bree let out a small chuckle and I had to laugh at Jamie myself.

“Sassenach.” Jamie said as he walked over to me. “Ye never told me, that.” He said as he pulled me towards him. “Brianna Ellen. Also, I dinna ken how I feel about my two lasses laughin’ at me, I have a feeling I am an outnumbered man from here on out.”

“Well I told you I would name our child after your Father Brian. Surely you remember that?” I laughed as he nodded. “Well just like you were surprised when you found out she was a girl— I was too when she was placed into my arms at the hospital. But it was too fitting to not do, and James Fraser, I think you’ve been out numbered since you decided to wed me, however, yes, now you are in for double trouble.”

“You both thought I was going to be a boy?” Bree said as she walked a few feet behind us. “I learn more about myself every day these days!” She laughed to herself rolling her eyes to mirror Jamie so much I couldn’t help but gawk at her.

“Alright you two... dinner’s ready. Bree you’ve obviously been in this century long enough to know the food is, well, it is no 20th century. But I did my best to mimic something I would have in Boston.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Mama.” Bree said as she took a seat at the table. “I’m famished.”

I sat down next to her, and Jaime across from me. He pulled my hand towards his, squeezing it. “Seems the lass had my appetite too.” Jamie laughed as he took the first bite of food.

“You should have seen her after ballet practice!” I laughed as I soaked in the first family dinner I had longed for more than life itself.

Bree was helping me with the dishes when we heard a loud thump from the porch. The sun had set a while before, and I had not anticipated any visitors.

I quickly turned to Jamie, who by his face I could tell was not expecting anyone tonight either.

There was a small knock on the door and then a loud phrase muttered in Gaelic. The minute the voice had spoken- Jamie and I had both let out a breath- and Bree just watch us with confusion in her eyes.

“Jamie. I ken yer in there. I could see the smoke from a fire, ye damn fool let me in!” Murtagh said.

“Coming, Murtagh.” Jamie said as a smile appeared on his face from ear to ear. “We are all here.”

I was taken a back for a moment as I felt Bree’s elbow in my side. “Mama, who is Murtagh?” She whispered quietly to me.

“He... well, he would.... Technicalities aside, he’s related to your Father and is your uncle. My Lord I haven’t seen him in nearly 20 years. Remember that time I told you, when your father was taken into the hands of Black Jack Randall?” Bree nodded quickly at me. “Well, Murtagh is the one who helped me escape him from Wentworth. He’s the best man I know, aside from your father.”

Jamie beamed a smile to me as he opened the door and I quickly rushed over to his side, gluing myself to his hip.

“Claire.” He said. “Oh my heavens. Claire. Ye dinna look a day aulder than when I last saw ye before Culloden.”

I took in Murtagh’s appearance. He was the same old hairy Scot with a full beard like I had remembered, although now he resembled Father Christmas- his Brown was now shades of silver and white.

“Come here, lass.” Murtagh said as he pulled me in for a bear hug. I let a tear fall… For I didn’t know how much I had truly missed this man until he was right before my eyes.

We had known Murtagh had been imported to the colonies years ago, after Ardsmuir. Jamie, once we were settled a bit on the ridge, had told anyone and everyone to spread word for a Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser, and if found, Jamie Fraser of the Ridge was looking for him. While we had been looking and hoping- he had obviously found us first.

I stepped out of his embrace as Jamie smiled and shook his hand.

“Murtagh. Seems you got wind of my word, and found us.” Jamie beamed.

“Yes I did. I’m here ye damned fools, am I not? And can we go inside? The night is cold.” Murtagh said as he stepped in and closed the door.

“Of course!” I said and saw Jamie turn over his shoulder to Bree and smile.

“Murtagh, ye ken the most important lass in my life has been Claire, but now, I want ye to meet, our daughter, Brianna.” Jamie said. Murtagh turned around and looked Bree up and down. Bree smiled softly and walked over to where the three of us were standing.

“So you’re the infamous man who helped get Da out of Wentworth with Mama. I’m Bree.” Bree said as she stuck her hand out to Murtagh.

“God in heaven.” Murtagh said. “How did the lass come here too?” Murtagh looked confusingly at me and then at Jamie. “I ken Claire was from another time….”

“I was too. Born after Culloden in the twentieth century. But, I guess it must be a genetic thing I could go through the stones too… And I had too. I had to find, them.” Bree said as her face flushed red and she looked down to the ground. “I guess he’s one of the few family members that knows the truth then?” Bree said with a light laugh.

“Yes, yes he is.” I said as the tears filled my eyes again. I looked up to Jamie, who had tears in his eyes as well.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bree.” Murtagh said in that highlander way that made Bree’s name even more Scottish than I thought it could be. “Weel, I guess I am yer uncle, uncle Murtagh.”

Bree smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, for keeping them both safe, all those years.”  She said.

And I felt a dam break as I buried my head into Jamie’s chest. Murtagh embraced Bree himself, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist.

I stepped out of Jamie’s arms and wiped the tears with my apron. “Okay, come on every one, Murtagh we have some left over food and we’ll all warm up by the fire.”  

With Murtagh fed and in dry clothes, we found ourselves sitting in from of the fire. I had lost track of time, and nuzzled myself into Jamie’s side, dozing off and on. Bree had fallen asleep on the pallet in the corner a few minutes before me and I could hear the low mumbles of Jamie and Murtagh.

“Jamie, lad, she is a beauty.” Murtagh said as he took a sip of whisky.

“I ken. Blessed twice, Claire coming back. And then Bree— just like her mother, coming to find us.” Jamie said. I could feel his grip tighten around my waist.

They were silent for a few minutes, only taking small sips of whisky. I felt a draft from the window that sent a chill through my spine and brought me back to my senses.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that. It has been a long day.” I smiled as I rested my head on Jamie’s shoulder. “I am glad you found us, though, Murtagh. You have been missed.”

“Aye, weel, it didna take that long to find ye, once I got wind of where ye were. Took a little bit longer to get here than I thought. Ye are a ways up the mountain, but it was wroth it.” Murtagh said as he looked over into the corner and smiled at Bree. He stayed that way for a minute and I could have sworn in all the years I had known Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser, I had never seen him smile so much in one night. I looked up and saw Jamie’s eyes, he also knew something was off with him.

“Murtagh, I’ve never seen ye smile so much in one night.” Jamie said as he took the last sip of his whisky.

“Weel, lad, ye will not remember all that much. But I knew yer mother when she was about the lass’s age, and… Jamie, she is the spitting image of yer mam Ellen. Lord have mercy, it takes my breath away. There is no’ a doubt in my mind who her father was, definitely a Fraser.”

“Aye.” Jamie said as he smiled and kissed the top of my head. “Her name is, well, Brianna Ellen.”

“Och.” Murtagh said. “Of course it is. Claire, ye did well.”

I couldn’t say anything but only nod and smile in return.

I looked back up at Jamie who looked back down to me. For 20 years this was all I had wanted- what he had wanted- and there was no greater feeling than having my- *our* family complete.

I had once long ago told Father Anslem about time stopping, and here in this moment, I would have to say a silent prayer tonight of thanks- for this was another way time could stop. When your heart finally is home.

What comes easy won’t last long, and what lasts long won’t come easy

Here we are again. The flavor of the day is bland with a twist of desperation. 

I am not perfect by any means. I make mistakes and like to think I’ve been capable of owning them. I’ve always thought of myself to be fairly level headed, someone who can look at the bigger picture from everyone’s position. I have been overly accommodating to the people who surround me, I try way harder for them then I do for myself. I am guilty of being ‘a people pleaser’. I don’t know when that started really, but in my 30′s it became severely obvious, and I kinda hate myself for that. 

I am walking into my 8th year of my relationship with my boyfriend... B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D. Not Fiance, not husband... shit, hardly a partner. He is a BOY, and I am stuck here. Not against my will obviously, I can kick him out whenever I please, however, my life with him is a complicated one that effects too many people (there I am, people pleasing again. Buckle up folks, this happens often). 

I am 7 years older then my boyfriend, let’s call him Blu (that was my dog’s name). I met Blu by accident actually. In May of 2013 my then husband and I decided we just could not work it out anymore and we split ways. We were cordial, able to remain friendly for the sake of our kids. We accepted that although we failed MARRIAGE, we will not fail Co-Parenting. He left our family home in May and by September I met Blu. There’s some chaos there but I’ll tell that tale on another occasion. Remember when I said I met Blu by accident? I was serious. I had a friend named Emma who loved drama! She came to my house and told me about a site that she found out her boyfriend was on and she wanted to see if he would flirt with me (or another fake identity she made up to be honest, she just used my information to create an account), I call that playing with fire, but you know how that can go. Anyway, she did what she needed to and got the information that she wanted. I was uninterested in those apps so I never bothered to look into it. A couple of days later someone named Blu would send me multiple messages trying to get me to talk. I decided to respond, I explained that my name wasn’t what was listed and explained the whole situation to him, he just laughed it off. I didn’t know then that he was so familiar with drama like my darling friends little stunt. Anyway, we got to talking and it was very soon when he asked if I was interested in meeting up. After all the crime shows and books I’m into it was a hard HELL NO for me. I asked him to give me a little time, I also explained my position. 

He told me a lot about himself, single dad, shares custody of two very young children with his ex. He lived with his parents about 2 miles from where I was. He didn’t seem cocky or arrogant, or maybe I just didn’t see it. We exited the chats and moved on to phone texts. He would message me every morning, afternoon and night. He knew about the age difference and didn’t care. Meanwhile I felt incredibly insecure about it. After about 7 weeks I finally caved and said I would meet him somewhere public, he said his family was having a BBQ at his house for me to just come by. I thought that out and figured: who would kill or rape me with all their family there?! So I went, but I never went inside his home. I stayed by my car, we talked for hours. I remember in the end I was fitting on the trunk of my car and him on the edge of the sidewalk... maybe 1:30 am when I finally decided to head home. He didn’t try any funny business, and was completely respectful. Before I left he asked if he can take me out to eat somewhere, like an official date, I still felt a little odd but I agreed. At that dinner I told him everything, about my pending divorce, how my custody is currently working, etc. 

Me and him were from different worlds entirely. There were a few occasions that really pointed the differences out. For example, he listens to REAL MEXICAN MUSIC (google CALIBRE 50) where as my Mexican music consisted of Reggeton, Salsa, Bachata. He was 100% grounded in his Mexican roots, where my mixed breed havin’ ass was raised in an American household, where dinners were served at a certain time, we ate together as a family, we attended church on Sundays, we were close. The structure of my life was typical American Family with the added components of my nationalities; Mexican and Puerto Rican. We didn’t curse around our elders, I didn’t know of drugs, or habits. That was the first shot, the second time I noticed the difference was in October when we made arrangements to carve pumpkins with his kids and mine. On that particular day his mom and sisters were home, so of course I invited them to participate. They looked at the pumpkins as though they just landed from outter space! The third time was just a couple of months after, December. While my house was decked out with Christmas trees, stockings, and nicely wrapped presents... his house had no tree, no gifts, nothing. 

We have gone through a lot over the years, mostly good things (or so I thought). Have you ever laid next to someone you felt the closest to and think Gosh, I don’t even know him? Eight years later and I still think that. I use to cry myself to sleep. I still feel so incredibly alone, and more so... misunderstood. The SANE me wants to think I have a right to think this way, but he comes in and convinces me that I am the problem. Meet Blu, head of the narcissists.

He is consumed with his cars, weed and sex. He has a problem with being faithful. And I have a problem with trusting him, and every time I feel I can let my guard down, he always comes in to remind me that I can’t. Things are about to get personal, I hope you don’t mind. 

The first time I found out about his ‘extra activities’ we were already living together, this was maybe a little over a year after we became official with each other. He left his phone in the living room and it was getting a ton of texts, to my luck he is also a very heavy sleeper. I opened the messages and read them (OMG WHY WOULD YOU GO THROUGH HIS MESSAGES?! FK OFF KAREN, THIS IS MY REALITY, NOT YOURS!). It was a girl asking if he was gonna go by. I messaged her back as though I was him and she went along. I ended up waking him up, my eyes red and burning from all the crying. I asked him about it and all he was able to say is WHY ARE YOU GOING THROUGH MY PHONE, turned it off and went to bed. I remember feeling low, but that didn’t stop me dumb ass from going to lay next to him and crying until I fell asleep. He ended up changing his number after a few days and said he was ‘sorry’. Those types of situations happened maybe twice a year. 

In 2016 I helped him open his own business, he had no money so I put up most of it (yes, stupid, I hear ya!) with the condition that he would not be listed on any documents as an owner. He argued with me about me not making him feel like a man (people pleasing in 3, 2, 1...) So I added him to the paperwork. I felt bad for him, I never wanted him to feel like that despite what he made me feel like. On one occasion he was working late, me being scar’d for life, I called him about 12:20 am and asked if I could take him anything or if he needs something because he had been working since 2 pm. He told me he was fine, but I said OK LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED ANYTHING. I went anyway to ‘take him food’, when I was driving up a black Honda was driving off, and there was Blu looking like he saw a ghost. I asked who that was an immediately he yelled and asked why I was there. I said that I brought him something to eat to which he said MY FRIEND JUST BROUGHT ME SOMETHING... my friend... hmmm... At about 4 a.m. I messaged and asked if he was ok and he said IM NOT COMING HOME, IM DONE! My pride didn’t allow this to just happen, I responded with OK. I locked his ATM card, Gas Card, and any credit lines. He came home (I thought he would) hootin and hollerin! I quietly took my explosion waiting for him to finish. At that point I said to just leave the work truck keys and to be on his way. He refused. 

In 2018 he started recording his phone calls for work purposes (you wouldn’t believe how many people try and cheat ya to save a buck!). I had access to the recordings but never listened to them because they were of a bunch of truckers asking for stuff. One day though, I was triggered. He said he was going to go down the street to help my sister and brother in law move something. I thought it was strange because my sister told me everything! So when he left I asked her about it, she said ‘yea it was weird he offered to come help’ I then asked her to call me once he left. About 10 minutes later I got the text “HEY SORRY HE LEFT LIKE 5 MINUTES AGO BACK HOME” We lived literally five minutes away, so I waited. After about 30 minutes I decided to listen to the recordings. He called a girl asking her to meet him in the Bank Of America Parking lot about 5 minutes the opposite way, he told her he was able to leave his kids with his dad for a little while so he can go see her. My heart SANK. I felt it at the pit of my stomach. This entire douche bag drove MY CAR to see some hoe??? FOR REAL! So I texted him and said where are you? He messaged about 10 minutes later and said IM ON MY WAY HOME I JUST FINISHED AT YOUR SISTERS. I didn’t respond. When he came it we went at it. Let me clear the air: I AM NOT AN ARGUER. I don’t find it useful to scream and yell, but my emotions were shot, I was on a different level now. I dropped the bomb! I guess he didn’t see it coming because he was unable to keep up with the shit storm I was dishing out. In the middle of it, that broad had the nerve to call him. I told him to answer it and he said no. When I got ahold of his phone he had the NUTS to tell me NOT TO FK IT UP FOR HIM. Shattered. I was non-existent. 

to be continued

poison ivy & stinging nettles 11

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Chapter 11- Water

~~~

Everyone useful always dies. It’s like the universe keeps changing things in a personal challenge to Sherlock Holmes.

Then we dragged along for the ride.

For once, it would be nice to catch a bad guy, have him confess, clear up any confusion, and move on with our lives.

~~~

“What?”

Amelia gaped at Mycroft, unsure if her exhausted brain had heard him correctly.

“There was a transfer issue,” he repeated, looking none too thrilled about it. “Someone sabotaged the police car. While they tried to resolve the issue, Maxwell Brenner was shot by a sniper across the street.”

“So, he’s dead?” she asked bluntly, her expression dropping as the words left her.

“Very much so,” Mycroft nodded curtly.

Amelia looked to Sherlock, a loss at what to say.

What did this mean for the case?

Did they catch who did it?

“You didn’t catch the shooter,” Sherlock guessed, and when his brother didn’t reply, he sighed. “This certainly complicates things.”

“We still have enough evidence to shut down research and development at Chemco. The Board will be held accountable, but I’m not sure if my colleagues in the States will be able to do much.”

“Probably slap a fee on them,” Amelia sighed.

“Unless, of course, we are able to locate your mother?” he tried and Amelia just shrugged. She hadn’t heard from the woman in over a month now, going on two.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that her mother had beaten Max to the grave.

James Moriarty seemed to be efficient like that.

“We have to presume Lydia Brenner is out of the picture,” Sherlock cut in. “Have you found any leads on Moriarty?”

“Nothing,” Mycroft replied. “He’s disappeared. Though, while I’m not a betting man, I’d put money on the fact he was behind Brenner’s untimely death.”

“Which one?” Amelia scoffed bitterly. “He seems determined to wipe out my lineage.”

“As soon as he makes a sound, we will know,” he assured the pair before his phone started ringing. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get in contact with your cousin.”

“I’m not convinced he has that many eyes,” Amelia murmured to Sherlock once Mycroft was out of earshot.

“He doesn’t,” he agreed quietly. “He doesn’t want you to panic and run away. He’s going to need your testimony for any legal actions against Chemco.”

“Ah yes, because running did so much for me last time,” she mumbled sarcastically, looking over her shoulder into John’s room.

“He knows that as well,” Sherlock replied. “He’s being careful. Clearly, things are not going well in Her Majesty’s Government’s Chemco Pharmaceuticals case.”

Amelia leaned against the hall wall, releasing a long pent up sigh and closing her eyes. Ruthie would probably want to have a funeral and invite the extended family. Do it properly.

They’d need a better story to tell everyone, no point spitting on his grave. He had more than paid for his sins as far as Amelia was concerned.

Peeking at Sherlock, she frowned. John would be in no shape to attend a memorial service this week, besides, it would be bad taste to bring the guy her felon uncle shot.

There was no way she could handle going alone, though Ruthie would definitely need her support as she buried her father. Even with the bad blood, he was family and he’d been a doting parent the vast majority of her life.

Ruthie called Amelia in tears almost immediately after speaking with Mycroft. After calming her down, she asked some basic questions, hoping to assist her cousin in whatever manner she needed.

It was Max’s wishes he is buried next to his wife at the Brenner family estate in Essex; Sirenshore.

The large manor had been in the family for generations, originally having been built for the first Brenner that found success in merchant goods and trading in the early 16th century. Max had been living there since the death of the first Maxwell Brenner, Amelia, and Ruth’s grandfather.

“Mostly contraband,” Sherlock supplied after Amelia explained the circumstances to John with a groan. She was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, with Sherlock in a chair pulled up next to them.

“So you’re rich-rich,” John translated.

“I’m comfortable,” she answered quickly.

“My family is comfortable, your family has a yacht,” Sherlock added.

“Did you rent or own the apartment in Brooklyn?” John asked, sitting up, he is gaze narrowed at Amelia suspiciously.

“I mean, my mom owned the building,” she explained sheepishly, twisting a nervous strand of auburn hair between her fingers. “But I did purchase the penthouse from her.”

“Penthouse,” John repeated. “You live in a basement, but own a penthouse in Brooklyn, New York.”

“I sold it,” she protested. “I gave the money to a handful of after school programs and two large food pantries in Harlem and the Bronx.”

“And how much was that?”

“Do I really need to go over my finances with you, John Hamish Watson? When I told you we can go to Tesco without you arguing over expired clippings, I wasn’t lying.”

“Humour me,” he replied dryly.

“Just under two million,” she mumbled, looking toward the ground. “She initially sold me the property for very cheap. It was well below the market rate. And I got a steal with the present market and the realtor was a family friend…”

“American dollars?” John clarified. “Two million, dollars?”

“Brooklyn is in the United States, John,” she answered.

“Don’t ‘John’ me,” he held up a finger. “How much did your mother make last year?”

“I think you’ve broken him,” Sherlock commented. “John, this has never been a secret.”

“Honestly, why do you think I've been covering your portion of the rent?” she blinked at him, missing over her shoulder Sherlock’s suddenly panicked expression.

“You’ve what?”

“I took over your portion of the rent,” she shrugged. “It made more sense and was far less expensive overall compared to most decent places in London. Besides, you both were doing so much for me. I cover Sherlock’s too.”

“Sherlock?”

“I told you not to tell him,” the detective hissed under his breath.

“What are you talking about? He had to have known, I told you to stop collecting the rent,” she frowned, looking at him quizzically. “Unless you... haven’t... been...? Oh, Sherlock.”

“Where is it then?” John snapped. “That isn’t an inconsiderable amount of money, Sherlock.”

“I invested it in a high yield savings-investment account,” Sherlock confessed. “I was going to give you the information at Christmas.”

“You can’t just do stuff like that without asking people!” he glared between Amelia and Sherlock.

“Why are you glaring at me? I think it was more than fair for the work you’ve done for this case and the friendship you’ve provided,” Amelia huffed. “I wouldn’t let my brother pay rent if I could more than afford it.”

“The accounts nearly doubled,” Sherlock added, throwing on a smile at the irritated doctor. “Happy Christmas.”

“You two-,” he groaned, falling back against his pillows with a groan. “I don’t know how you don’t see it.”

“It was a transactional situation,” Amelia continued, clapping her hands together. “If it bothers you, you’re welcome to go back to paying rent.”

“I have been!”

“That’s between you two,” she stood up, pointing between the men. “I’m the bigger person here, and I’m going to get hot cocoa for myself as a reward for my good deeds. Do either of you need anything?”

“I’ll take some chips,” Sherlock piped up.

“That was more rhetorical, but John? You do look a little pale,” she frowned sympathetically.

“A sandwich or something would be nice,” he admitted quietly.

“Roast beef?”

“If they have it,” he smiled after her as she left.

“Why aren’t you mad at her anymore?”

“Because she wasn’t stealing my money,” John returned his glare to Sherlock. “Four months.”

“Here,” Sherlock handed him his mobile, a large number on the screen.

“What’s this?”

“The account balance,” he answered, arching a brow.

“Oh,” John's eyes widened. “That’s a lot more than four months of rent.”

“Believe it or not, I’m quite proficient at understanding the stock market,” Sherlock took the device back and pocketed it. “I’ve helped Amelia with some financial decisions as well.”

“I still can’t believe you knew about this,” John sighed.

“Wait until you see what she bought you for Christmas,” Sherlock snickered.

“Isn’t it a bit strange? She could have gotten a much nicer place, hired a security detail, but settled with us,” John mused, snorting under his breath. He leaned back in his pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“Not at all,” Sherlock shook his head. “She trusts us. Haven’t you noticed how jumpy she gets outside of Baker Street? Of course, if one of us is with her, she’s ok, but the further we go...”

“That explains Canterbury,” John hummed, nodding to himself. “Of course.”

“She knows Mycroft and his men are swarming the halls, so she offers to get food,” Sherlock added. “And the cafeteria is only one floor down.”

“She doesn’t think she needs to buy our affection, does she?” John voiced, looking to Sherlock in concern.

“No,” he crossed his arms, leaning back. “That generosity and affection just happen naturally, I think. She’d be knitting us scarves and making biscuits otherwise.”

“Shame so many people want to kill her,” John joked dryly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone kind was killed by petty vengeance.”

“Well, not on our watch,” John cleared his throat determinedly.

~~~

“The funeral is this Sunday,” Amelia looked to the calendar on her cell phone. “That means I’ve got to get to Canterbury by tomorrow night, help organize things on Saturday, and Sunday is the big day.”

She plopped backward on the sofa, pulling her blankets over her head.

Despite the excellent job Mycroft’s men had done in cleaning up her apartment, she still felt uneasy sleeping alone in the distant space. She barely slept as it was since John’s accident, but over the last few days she’d set up a small spot on the worn sofa.

Usually, if she was asleep, Sherlock was up tinkering around, and vice versa.

It was oddly comforting knowing that if someone were to burst through the front door of Baker Street, he would be right there.

“Are we staying the night after the funeral?”

“We?” Amelia pulled the blanket off her face, looking up at him curiously. “I cannot ask you to attend the funeral of the man who nearly killed your best friend.”

“I would have gone anyway,” he shrugged casually. “Which tie should I wear? I have a tasteful burgundy one that Mrs. Hudson gave me for Christmas last year that I haven’t an opportunity to wear.”

Amelia ducked under the blanket again, smiling to herself like an idiot.

“You look best in the short-sleeved black dress,” he continued musing. “If you wear a charcoal sweater with that, perhaps the gunmetal grey tie instead.”

As miserable as this event was bound to be, perhaps it wasn’t going to be that terrible.

Chapter 12

Mental Health and Me #4

For two years I allowed myself to become a prisoner to my anxiety. It is no exaggeration to say that these two years were the worst of my life. During this time, my parents announced their separation. To protect them - and myself - I'm not going to go into detail regarding their split, only that it was incredibly traumatising. It was the day after my seventeenth birthday. I woke up at about three a.m to them screaming at each other. No child should have to witness their parents like that. I imagine when a marriage breaks down, it is traumatising to all involved, regardless of the reasons. This, however, is still a nightmare that I am currently living with, six years later. My mental health, which was already so fragile, was at breaking point, but I knew I had to be strong.

It was also during this time that my friends, who were in their final year of college and preparing to go off to university, cut off contact with me. With some it had been a natural, gradual process. With others, more surprisingly, it had been out-of-the-blue. One day they just stopped talking to me and stopped replying to my messages. I tried to contact a few, my messages were received, but there was no reply. There had been no reason, that I could see at the time, for it. I have my suspicions about it but I know I will never get an answer to that question. I needed my friends the most during this time, yet not one of them were there for me. My mental health was at breaking point before this. Now, there were cracks appearing that didn't feel like they would ever be repaired. I felt like this was all my fault somehow. I felt like a complete and utter failure, more so than I had before. I felt unworthy. I literally had nothing left. No one left. I realise now that I should never have placed my self worth in the hands of other people. The moment you do, you give them the power to do as they wish with it, and sometimes that means they drop it, they stand all over it, then they return it to you almost completely destroyed.

A huge portion of those two years are very difficult to recall in my mind, partially because of how painful these memories are, but also because of how I was simply living day to day, barely able to muster the energy to get out of bed, and not knowing what I was about to face as I walked downstairs. Despite having an older sister and brother, I, at seventeen, was the glue keeping my family together. I don't blame my siblings. My sister, who was twenty-four, was expecting her first child and had just moved two hours away with her fiancé to prepare for their new baby. She had suffered a miscarriage around six months before discovering she was pregnant again, so she did not need the extra stress from our parents divorce to spoil was what an exciting time for her and her now husband. My brother, who is eleven months younger than our sister, was constantly working nights or travelling to and from London and Birmingham with his buddies. I don't blame him for this - given the opportunity, I know I would have done the same. As I was the one who was constantly there, witnessing the darkest period in our parents' lives and being embroiled in their bitter disputes, I became the glue that was trying so hard to keep the family together. I do believe that, due to this, my parents were extremely lenient on me. As soon as I celebrated, for lack of a better term, my eighteenth birthday, this leniency stopped and I was not prepared for it.

Now that I was an "official" adult, I had responsibilities. My parents had waited until I was an adult before filing for divorce so that custody was not something they would have to fight over. I had made my decision on who I was going to be living with from day one and no one was going to take that decision away from me. However, the pressure was now on for me to get a job and not play such a heavy financial burden on my parents, who were now proceeding to move forward with their lives and deciding what they were going to do with their marital home. After the disaster of working in KFC, I was absolutely terrified of getting another job. Scratch that - I was frozen to the spot in fear over the idea. The anxiety started to flood my body and I was scared I would drown from it. I had just spent almost two years at home, with minimal contact with the outside world - I wouldn't even open the door when someone came knocking! I couldn't even remember the last time I had spoken to someone who wasn't my immediate family. I had no idea how to even strike up a conversation with someone, so how the hell was I meant to get a job? How the hell was I meant to get through an interview? I had no experience other than KFC, which I was refusing to put on my CV because the manager had threatened to give me a terrible reference, so I had absolutely nothing to go on, but I applied and got rejected and applied some more. I faced rejection more times than I could possibly begin to count, and each time it would reduce my self-confidence to nothing but ash.

It took me four months before I managed to get a job in a clothes shop. I can't even take credit for it either. I've always been told that when it comes to getting a job it's more about who you know than what you know. My cousin worked in the same store and so I was given the advantage of being offered a space in a group interview. Yeah, you read that correctly: a group interview. I spent the run up to that day in floods of tears and frantically searching on Google to find the as many hints and tips for surviving my upcoming doom! I had no idea what to expect, although each website I visited mentioned the same thing - ice breaker. The interview is a blur - it has been almost five years since that day. I managed to get the job out of luck. People have told me to give myself more credit and that I got the job because I impressed them, but I severely doubt that was the case. The interview was full of kids, mostly; those who had applied for their first job. It was a train wreck of an interview, if I'm being completely honest. No one knew what they were doing, not even the ones who were running the interview. Regardless of the reasons, I managed to secure myself a part-time job as a Christmas temp. I worked the evening shifts mostly. I didn't mind this so much as this was the time of day people were usually going home so it wasn't as busy. I had to tidy up the displays, put away the clothes people had tried on and didn't want, and, if it was busy, jump on the tills. I despised till work. At least with the other tasks I was given I could hide away in the stock room or in between displays, which I did regularly. Till work, however, was a nightmare. The system was super old and, because it was Christmas, everyone wanted refunds, which only a manager could authorise, so getting hold of a manager was almost impossible. Customers would stare at me as though I was personally responsible for making their lives an inconvenience. November wasn't so bad. December was worse. I would go home physically shaking from the anxiety it had caused. My mental health deteriorated the entire time I was there. Looking back at it, it wasn't the most difficult job in the world, in fact it was pretty easy, but at the time, thanks to my anxiety, it felt like more of an uphill battle than what I imagine climbing Mount Everest would be like. It was no surprise to me that they chose not to keep me on once Christmas was over, so it was back to the drawing board once again.

It took ten months before I was able to land another job. In between this time, I reconnected with a couple of friends from school. One I had known since primary school and who lived in the same village as I did, who I shall call N; the other I had known, not very well, since secondary school, who I will call B. I was being pressured by my parents to get a social life - and friends. They didn't understand. Their fighting was actually causing me to want to go out and get away from them, even for a few minutes. I just needed a moment to breathe without being yelled at. I know why, it's because I was the closest one there for them to take their frustrations out on. I was always there. I had known N since our first day at school and had grown up with her. I never really felt that anxious around her. In fact, I was always around at her place once we had gotten back in contact, or we used to frequent the beach for walks. I opened up to her about the situation with my parents, she would tell me about hers, and it never seemed to bother me. I was comfortable. B, however, is a different story. He messaged me out of nowhere one day - I thought he might have made a mistake and intended to message someone else, but apparently not. I'm still not convinced on how true that was, then again that could just be the anxiety talking. We spent a good couple of months messaging each other, which was being encouraged by N who had been close with B, before I took the plunge and met up with him. I was more than anxious - I was ripping my hair out, biting my nails off kind of anxious. My leg didn't stop shaking all the way there. This relationship progressed pretty fast and eventually we made it official... for about a week. Due to my extremely low self-esteem and confidence, I refused to allow him to touch me. He didn't like that. I tried to explain why. He still didn't like that. Do you know what he did? He ignored me for a couple of days before messaging me that he thought we were better off as friends. This seriously knocked my confidence even further down the drain than it already was. Looking back now, though, I realise just how wrong we would have been for each other. It's clear to me now that he was only interested in a physical relationship. Friendship was not something he desired from me as that was one of the last messages he ever sent me. He moved on very quickly after that.

2013 started off as a bad year and it only seemed to be getting worse. In May, we celebrated my sister's hen party with a weekend away in Cardiff. This is something I feel a large amount of guilt over, even now four years later. I knew I had to go; I couldn't let my sister down. I was incredibly nervous over it, surprise surprise. Alcohol was a complete no-no for me. I didn't even drink on my eighteenth birthday! I was afraid that if I got drunk then I would do something stupid and people would laugh at me. It was better for me if I didn't drink. I felt safer. I was also incredibly anxious over the idea of going to the pubs and clubs. I had never been to a club before and I didn't dance. I wasn't prepared to do anything that would bring attention to myself. It didn't help that everyone was pressuring me into drinking and dancing and taking selfies! My body image and self-esteem were at an all time low that weekend, and it didn't help when my sister and most of her friends were all stick thin. I couldn't help but compare myself to them and point out everything that I hated about myself. I just wanted to lock myself in a room and cry. When I think about it now, I do regret not allowing myself to enjoy what should have been a great weekend. Anxiety has taken a lot from me over the years and this was one of them. The wedding was the same. My sister married six weeks after we returned from Cardiff. I was a bridesmaid. I had never been a bridesmaid before and I couldn't say no to my sister - it was her wedding! I wanted to do her proud, but I was dreading having all eyes on me for a few minutes. It was my responsibility to walk my one-year-old niece down the aisle, who everyone adored, and what was worse was we were going first! I got through it, not as quickly as I would have liked with a baby who had just learnt to walk. The evening was when my anxiety kicked off the most - everyone was dancing and mingling and there I was, sitting with my Dad and his side of the family as I was too nervous to be talking with anyone else. I don't know my Mum's side of the family all that well, they've always kept to themselves, so aside from saying a quick hello to them, I had virtually no contact that night, or even since then. What's important about that day is that my sister had the wedding day of her dreams. They've recently celebrated their fourth wedding anniversary with a belated honeymoon to Ibiza. As well as their daughter, Sophie, they also welcomed a son, Charlie, into the world in November 2015.

2013 was one of the most challenging years I had ever faced. While agoraphobia is a paralyzing condition, it was, in a way, easy. I had fallen into a safe, comfortable routine that I didn't want to break. While, yes, I was lonely and spent a great deal of time crying because I thought I would be this way forever, that I would die alone because even the thought of meeting someone new sent me into a panic attack. I know I was only eighteen at the time, but at that age it feels like your whole life - your whole world - is ending. I don't think it's being dramatic, as some would call it, when you genuinely feel that way. Anxiety is a very overwhelming condition. When you're so consumed by it, it's hard to focus on anything positive, it's hard to focus on anything other than the anxiety. After two years with little to no contact with anyone else, 2013 was the year I was thrown back into the harsh conditions of reality - into the deep end of all place, and I was vastly unprepared for it. It was now July, with another five months to go before the end of the year. 2013 was not finished with me yet...

Jimmy & Janis

Planning a romantic weekend away

Jimmy: Gracie came at me earlier. There was mistletoe up and I near fully hit the floor 😎 Jimmy: Hold fire though. She only wanted to tell me to convince you of summat. Pretty sure you already know what it is Janis: Erm...Father Christmas is really real? That her weave isn't from dead Brazilian hookers? Janis: Enlighten me or I'll tell her she's got a holiday free pass on you 😈 Jimmy: Double date. Need I say more 😡 Janis: FUCK. I DIDN'T THINK IT'D ACTUALLY HAPPEN. Janis: How far does she expect the season of goodwill to extend, like? Already got some poor cunt being a charitable home for her arse so she don't freeze Janis: Single tear. Janis: Question is, can we make it worth it enough for us to endure that shite? Hmm Jimmy: I almost got my arse to church so it wouldn't. Shoulda sucked off that priest when he asked. Too late? Jimmy: You better get me a top notch pressie, baby 😏 Janis: You know you ain't on the nice list 😉 Janis: So, Santa might be dissing but you'll be getting something extra special from me Janis: As for God, and his holly jolly perverted following, I reckon we're both shit out of 🍀 there, no matter how good our head game is, such is life Janis: Grah, I hear she does shoutouts now...want that 'influencer' clout, baby? Not double entendre my end but might be for GracieGuru 🙊😂 Jimmy: what the fuck we going to do then? No way I'm hanging with her and her latest 'boo boy' Jimmy: Even if I was getting paid, which is likely since she just loves common grounds Janis: Preaching to the choir, dickhead, ain't my idea of a good time either, or hers let's be fucking real. She just wants to dry-hump a slab of boy in front of you on the off chance that really gets you going for her Janis: You wouldn't call her brainy, bless Janis: Idk, don't worry about it, Jim. Just avoid her/the flat whites like the plague and I'll have to literally run away like I'm an angsty 12 year old so we can't be located, even with friend finder or whatever they stalk each other with Janis: Oooh! Just call me brains, we should pretend to have a romantic weekend away planned, that'll send her over the edge, that is her everything goals Janis: Like I said, I can hide from a hoe Jimmy: I knew there was a reason I kept you about Jimmy: Let's do it though. Easier to take than fake the 'gram Jimmy: Any ideas? 🤔 Jimmy: Most of my boltholes are far from yours and not very enviable for that crowd #it'sgrimupnorth Janis: Yeah, why do you tbh? Janis: Now its clear my sister has got no respect for anyone on her hunt for dick/self-esteem Janis: She's hoping its a twofer like Janis: I don't know if I can stand you for that long, darling Janis: But I SUPPOSE your the lesser of two evils here 😉 Jimmy: It's love 💕 Jimmy: Come on, it'll be a laff. I'll get the beers in Jimmy: You can try harder to beat me at darts and pool Janis: As far as the adoring fans/salty haterz are concerned Janis: and that's all that matters Janis: bitch i don't have to try! 😤 you put me off last time with ur mooning 😍 Janis: we don't need to convince the old fellas in the boozer Jimmy: Fuck off I was getting practice in! Jimmy: If you're ready to fake a break up say the word but until then, it takes a lot of work to give you the puppy dog eyes. I'm not Twix Janis: Sure you was 😂 Janis: N'awwh but you do it so well! Janis: Audition for the School play whilst ur at it, soft lad Jimmy: I do enough fake snogging without signing myself up for that bollocks Jimmy: You coming away with me then or not? Jimmy: You know your sister'll be in again nagging before shift's end Janis: Well, when you put it like that Janis: 😒 Janis: I ain't got nothing better to do, and I certainly ain't third wheeling her fake date Janis: My grandparents got a place down skerries Janis: we can crash there Jimmy: How many rooms they got? My dad's working so I'll have to bring the ramble with Jimmy: #goals I know Janis: Fucking hell, my pissing sister! She owes you more than she's spending on coffee for the hassle she's causing Janis: If you really can't, don't worry, I'll sort her. She'll be unbearable when she finds out it was all for a laugh but it was at her expense so how much of a mug can she actually make me feel? 😑 Janis: That said, there's 3 rooms, its only a caravan don't get excited but the kids would probably be buzzin', it is pretty nice down there Janis: I'll even let you have the double bed to yourself Janis: ol Janis: l Jimmy: It'll stop them nagging me about going somewhere other than the park that'll do me Jimmy: Cass talks big but she isn't even really so doable Jimmy: Don't be getting any ideas though 😍😉 my brother hasn't slept well since we moved. I'll be sharing that double like it or not Jimmy: What a way to spend my first proper time off since I started #blessed Janis: Yeah, fish and chips on the beach even tho its fucking baltic, chasing Twix will keep 'em warm, you'll earn major big brother points as well as bae ones Janis: What a mighty fine man Janis: Same here, Cass. Shh about it though Janis: Like you said, it'll be a laugh, we can make it one Janis: You'd really rather be making pinkity drinkidies or whatever the fuck they are? Jimmy: Nope. But your 1st romantic break usually is. Any talent there is in all grans playing bingo? Jimmy: Be nice to get something off the 'gram 💋 Janis: I ain't been since I was about 9 Janis: I wasn't after bitches then and I ain't now Janis: I wish you luck, 2 kids hanging on your arm and a woman back home, like Janis: Does it for some. Jimmy: I'd do some talking first to get things clear I'm not tall Tammy 😂 Jimmy: Bet you were a right cute kid, weren't you? Aww Janis: Again, have fun explaining that one, mate. I'd struggle with the concept and I'm in on it. Janis: Adorable. What happened? Jimmy: Shut up you know what you look like, mate Janis: A butch lezza? Janis: So I've been told 👍 Jimmy: That's not what they are saying anymore. Check my comments sometime. The lads are gagging for you now Janis: Goody gumdrops. Janis: I'll leave my knickers at the door, like Jimmy: You could like. I've been waiting for you to drop me as your fake bf since this whole thing started Janis: I'm not interested in any of them. Janis: Would your world be set alight by Aaron O'Reilly from form? Janis: If you wanna cop off with some of your fans don't let me stop you Jimmy: You aren't. They're not my type anymore than Aaron's yours. I'm just saying you take a crackin pic and I should know since I'm the one takin 'em. So you don't need to spout that crap. They're just jealous of how much of a butch lezza you aren't Janis: Alright. Well, you're not half bad at taking snaps, and not in the bullshit way every hoe thinks they know their angles and magic lighting these days, you're actually decent. Janis: It don't feel like crap when Janis: blah, meant to delete that, ignore it Jimmy: 🤐 Jimmy: Wanna help me with my art project while we're away then? Kill all the birds (hopefully not with my flash) Jimmy: I'll owe you again Janis: I won't even joke on you for being a swot 🤓🤞 Janis: What've you got planned? Jimmy: I haven't had any time to think yet beyond film being the medium but Jimmy: #workinprogress Jimmy: with a muse like you m'dear how could I go wrong 💕 Janis: 😜 Janis: just so you know, i ain't bringing any homework but put my name or yours, yeah? 😘 not even in art but might count for something Janis: clue me in tho, brainiac, what do the kiddos like? i'll get 'em something Jimmy: Rookie mistake mate, art's an easy A Jimmy: They'll take anything covered in sugar. Can't say I'll love you for it when they crash mid journey though Janis: Only 'cos you're good at it. With my genes I should be but I can barely draw a stickman. Janis: I'll stick with double sports, sports science and science 👌 Janis: I'll keep sweets in stock for bribery, goes without sayin'! Different pocket to Twix' fish treats, though Janis: I'll have a look down town Jimmy: 😂 did you see that article doin the rounds about the mum who bought her kid a cat's advent calendar Janis: 😂 Yes! Shame catnip don't work like on us like it does cats, that kid would be pingin' Janis: Might get meself some, like Jimmy: What gets dogs off their heads? I'll keep Twix well clear Jimmy: She's high enough on your 😍 Janis: I don't know, actually...telling them they're good bois? Janis: Works for you boo 😘 Jimmy: I prefer being called a very bad boy 😎 Janis: You clown 😂 Janis: Good to know, suppose. Dirty weekend away though it ain't Jimmy: what our fans don't know won't break their jealous hearts Jimmy: you coming in for your freebies today or shall I do a delivery your way once Grace is home? 😉 Janis: Kick it really cliche and be my sexy delivery boy Janis: Try and bring something with sausage in so I can come at you with the quality porn writing Jimmy: Live your fantasies as well as your sister's if you want, my name tag says Jonathon today Janis: Ooh, spicing it up with some roleplay like we're middle-aged okay Janis: How boring are you that you've picked a name so similar to your own...this is why we've hit a dry patch, Jimothy! Jimmy: What would you seriously pick? Janis: For you? Janis: Who's a fittie... Janis: Anthony Joshua could get it Janis: You don't want to be in the play but reckon you can stretch to that? Jimmy: Next time I lose my name tag I'll insist on that. For the bae 💕 Jimmy: About as close as I'll get I think Janis: Who do you want? Janis: I wanna know your type Janis: Bar Tall Tammy Jimmy: Your sister obviously Janis: Fuck off, not even funny Janis: If that were true, you know where she lives bitch, I ain't stopping ya, she's practically shoe-horning you in 🤢 Jimmy: I meant the fit older one 😉 Janis: Ohhh Janis: Still, do one 🖕 I'm not pretending to be my sister you freak Jimmy: That's one pretense too far. Got it 😂 Janis: Yeah, in this hypothetical you've really shit the bed, pal. Jimmy: I only half read that because #customers and thought you called me shit in bed mate Janis: well... 😏 Jimmy: I fake rocked your world Janis Cavante! 😂 Janis: you know we faked it so i didn't have to fake it 💅 Jimmy: Aaron O'Reilly's walking through the door want me to slip him your number and end this? 😝 Janis: I will murder you. Janis: also he might think your trying to set up a threeway for YOUR benefit, so if you wanna take over the gay rumours that bad, go for it 💋🍆 Jimmy: I've seen you with a pool cue I think I'm safe Jimmy: Give a shit. At least I actually am butch Janis: Psh, you're all show no grow Janis: We're arm wrestling, then you'll see Jimmy: 💪 I'll beat you at that too then, shall I? 🏆 Janis: Bring it on. I won't make you cry too hard, save face in front of the kiddos. Janis: 'Let' them kick your arse too 😜 Jimmy: Try it, baby girl 😝 Jimmy: Cass probs could no lie. Scrappy af that one Janis: Good girl 👍 Janis: Gotta keep you in check Jimmy: Doubt you'll be calling her that when she's shadowed you all weekend Jimmy: She loves you. Who knows why? Janis: I keep telling you I'm a delight Janis: Has this...how long has it been? Month, 2? Of SHEER BLISS taught you nothing Janis: Ruuuuude. Jimmy: Nope. I'm with Team Bobby. You're a gross meanie Jimmy: As all girls are 😂 Janis: Well I'm winning Bobby 'round this weekend by hook or by crook Janis: then you can please yourself, billy no mates Janis: Team Janis 💪 Jimmy: Every bro knows you can't be friends with your girl Jimmy: DUH Janis: Oh yeah, all straight couples HATE each other and that's #goals Janis: If I can't be chatting shit on you, how will I get to talk about you constantly to my gals? Janis: Singing your praises? I THINK NOT Jimmy: Speaking of, Gracie and co are back on the premise that Tall Tammy left her....something. I wasn't listening. Should I break the news we won't be here for date night or do you want to do the honors Janis: Dignity? That's long gone, honey. Janis: Ooh, lemme do it, you're coming round with the sausage anyway Janis: We can do it together baby Jimmy: awhhh Jimmy: I've hidden the mistletoe but she can see the top of the highest counters!! I'm on borrowed time what do I do? Janis: Headbutt her in the teeth Janis: 'Accidentally' Janis: Can't help being a normal-sized human Jimmy: #customerservice Jimmy: then recommend her our chewy cookies 😂 Janis: You can see why I'm not trying to be your work wifey too, yeah? 😂 Janis: If you can convince any of those girls to break their diet, I'll be impressed Janis: Don't count if they go vom in the bogs after tho Jimmy: Gracie might be on her way already. One of her posse asked what you were getting me for Christmas and I didn't hold back Janis: Oh no, am I about to get slut-shamed? 😲 Janis: Or, heaven forfend, tips Janis: I will die Jimmy: Damn I didn't think of that. Sorry Janis: Its cool Janis: She's all mouth anyway, not in a beneficial to the cause way Janis: Be interesting hearing what she thinks you want, keep ya posted lol Jimmy: 🙌 Can't wait Janis: that's what you're meant to say about my present! Jimmy: I did, swear 🤞 Janis: what do you actually want Jimmy: Don't worry about it Janis: Oh, is it? If I'm not fucking your brains out you're not interested Janis: Fine then, save my reddies. 👍 Jimmy: That's what I was thinking. Stage a break up before 🎄 for max drama and min spends Janis: Cool. If you wanna. Janis: Just don't tell everyone you chucked me 'cos I wouldn't give it up. Already a frigit. Janis: What's the story then? Jimmy: Obviously not. We've been hooking up for ages got to keep it #goals Jimmy: I don't know haven't thought that far ahead it just makes sense to get out before gifting Janis: Yeah. Fair. Janis: Think on and let me know Jimmy: You too. We can brainstorm at the weekend. Nothing but time then Jimmy: Can't break up right after the break though Janis: Would look sus, yeah. Janis: Maybe I'll whup you one too many times, your fragile male ego can't hack it, eh? Jimmy: Grace'd be smug 😩 Jimmy: Can't even fake that, babe Jimmy: Nobody'd believe the story Janis: She's gonna be regardless Janis: I got the shitty end of the stick here like but ain't nowt we can do about it now Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: No we're goals we just burned too bright that's all 😂 Jimmy: You've got way more time served with me than she does any of her boos she doesn't win Janis: Mhmm. Calm down, Icarus. Sure you'll be comparing some other bint on a balcony to the sun in no time. 😘 Janis: Suppose so. Least hers are real, if not short-lived, and, well, shit. Janis: She won't know the difference anyway Jimmy: There's nobody like you 💕 Jimmy: Exactly I'm not going to tell her we weren't real Janis: Bullshit 💕 Janis: True enough, I'll take it. Jimmy: Shit gotta go the boss is back Jimmy: Love you 💕 Janis: Love you too, Jonathon 💕