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thearrangment-phff · 5 years

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LXVII.

October 2018

There was irony for Isabella to attend an event to mark World Mental Health Day. She had no idea what was wrong with her and yet she hid her pain and smiled for the cameras. She urged people to open dialogue about mental health but she could never do it herself. She urged others to be kind to each other and seek help if they needed it but she could never do it herself. Every word she read of her speech spilled of hypocrisy that only a few knew about. She cried herself to sleep that night and every night for weeks.

The hardest day for both Harry and Isabella was the wedding of Eugenie and Jack. Harry needed to pretend that his marriage went perfect and Isabella needed to pretend that she was perfect. Isabella need to be dressed up by Christine and Charlotte as she didn’t have enough energy to even do it herself.

When Isabella joined Harry in the car her attitude completely changed. She was smiling and waving like nothing was wrong. It broke Harry’s heart a little bit to see her faking everything but he knew it was best for everyone. Then the thought of his mother came into his mind. He wondered if Isabella and his mother would find much in common with their marriages. But his mother would’ve never approved of a marriage between he and Isabella in the first place so he pushed the thought out of his mind.

“Are you okay?” asked Isabella.

“Are you okay?” asked Harry in response.

“I’m fine,” answered Isabella.

“I’m fine too,” replied Harry.

“I can’t wait to see her,” said Isabella in an attempt to make small talk in the car.

“It will be a good day.”

“No doubt Eugenie will look beautiful,” agreed Isabella.

The fake smiles, laughs, and small talk exhausted Isabella. By the end of the night, Isabella was left alone like always. Once Harry had kissed his son's goodnight Charlotte and Christine blocked Harry from going to sleep.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have a question for you,” started Charlotte.

“Have you and Isabella... had sex?” asked Christine.

“I don’t understand why you would-”

“We were dressing her this morning and we noticed something. Her stomach was bigger,” interrupted Christine.

“She gave birth a couple of months ago and with very large twins no less. I’m sure it’s nothing but I’ll have doctors look at it tomorrow if it’s such a pressing matter,” said Harry trying to go to bed.

“No. Not like that,” argued Charlotte.

“Harry she might be pregnant,” clarified Christine.

He had no words for a couple of seconds. Harry felt like the wind was knocked out of him, “It was one time. We were both had too much to drink,” whispered Harry.

“It only takes one time. She may be pregnant again and the doctors warned her about another pregnancy so soon. Harry she could actually die this time a number of ways.”

“What would you have me do? I have no power over her.”

“She’s unresponsive anyhow. We don’t need permission to drag her to the doctors. This time we do things right,” explained Charlotte.

“Are you suggesting an abortion?” asked Christine in horror.

“Would you rather she die in childbirth?”

“She would never want an abortion,” replied Harry.

“Would you want your sons to grow up without a mother like you did Harry?” asked Charlotte.

“Two very different circumstances and we all know you should not have said that to make your point,” answered Harry.

“But the results are the same. Two motherless sons. I want what is best for her and that is her living a long life so she can raise her children, spoil her grandchildren, and live long enough to see her great-grandchildren born. Forgive me for caring about her!” argued Charlotte.

“She will never forgive you. She will never forgive any of us if we make this decision for her,” continued Harry.

“Then we consult a doctor from the royal household and he will agree with me,” huffed Charlotte.

“Are we not going to even ask what she wants? This is her body,” asked Christine.

“It stopped being her body when she agreed to marry Harry,” replied Charlotte.

On the birth of Isabella’s youngest niece, Juliana, Isabella was stuck in London. Imre video chatted with her so that she was still able to be there.

“How are you?” asked Isabella.

“Exhausted. I always think it will be easier with the next one but it never does,” answered Kathleen.

“How are Maria Stella and Magdelena? Are they thrilled to be big sisters?” asked Isabella.

“Magdelena is but Maria Stella is not thrilled at the idea of another little sibling. She is too spoiled but Imre can’t say no to his firstborn,” laughed Kathleen.

“They are such angels. I miss them so much.”

“How are Harry and the boys?”

“Wonderful. Harry has been working but he tries to spend so much time with Charlie and Bertie. And the boys are just so big! They cannot stop eating,” half-lied Isabella.

“I cannot wait for you to hold Juliana in your arms. She is such a little angel. You know, rumors has it that Adelaide is pregnant and with 4 babies born by the end of this year who knows how many babies will be born in 2019,” beamed Kathleen.

“How you heard anything about Luisa or Christine?” asked Isabella.

“Not in the past couple of days as I have been preoccupied.”

“Christine says that she cannot even get out of bed because of doctor’s order of bedrest until she gives birth. Luisa is still in the early stages of pregnancy but last time I heard it’s been a very difficult beginning. You know about my troubles but did you have any?” talked Isabella.

“Well not to your extent. I just had a couple of weeks of morning sickness but nothing worse than that,” answered Kathleen.

“So many children but people forget the sacrifices women make to have them. I know I did.”

“You just had it worse than others. No one could have predicted your pregnancy going the way that it did. You are always so hard on yourself ever since you were a teenager.”

“With all due respect, you didn’t know me very well back then and you still don’t Kathleen,” replied Isabella.

“You are right. It’s been made clear over the years that we have differing views but nothing about my love as a sister and admiration for you has changed. I would never say anything to hurt you, Belle.”

“Yes... while I understand that I must remind you that your beliefs are founded on hatred and an imaginary man. Goodbye Kathleen.”

Isabella shut her laptop and left the room. No matter how many times Isabella had wanted to like Kathleen her sister-in-law's religious and political views had always been the first thing. The American Archduchess had tried had to get Isabella’s approval but even 8 years later and 3 nieces, Isabella could never fully like the older women.

“Belle, what’s wrong?”

Isabella had come face to face with her ladies-in-waiting, two of which who were holding Charles and Albert in their arms, “Nothing. I wish to go to France. I think a couple of days at Chambord would do me well.”

“France? Kathleen just gave birth perhaps going to Switzerland would be better,” suggested Christine.

“I don’t want to go to Switzerland. I have yet to go to Chambord and I own the damn place, it would do me good to spend time away from the life of London.”

“Does Harry know about your decision?” asked Olympia.

“He will soon. A week in France with my husband and sons it just what I need.”

“Isabella.” The group of women turned their attention to Harry. The five women stood there until Charlotte had cleared her throat and the four ladies had left them alone.

“I was just speaking about going to the Chateau de Chambord for some time.”

“Why would you want to go to France right now?” asked Harry.

“I’m tired of London and wish for something more familiar. Besides, the French air may do the boys good before the winter here.”

“And it would just be the 4 of us?”

“Of course.”

“Not even Charlotte, Christine, or the other two will be joining us?” asked Harry.

“No. It would simply be the four of us... and of course the dozens of people who work in the château as well. The chateau itself can’t live without them.”

“This is very sudden but I think I can work something out and spend a weekend there.”

“I was thinking a week,” replied Isabella.

“Then you would need to wait a little longer because I can’t spend a week in France right now.”

“Then come to us when you have time but I want to leave as soon as I can.”

Harry looked at her, “Alright. I’ll join you when I can but ask that the boys stay with me.”

“What?”

“The boys stay with me, Isabella.”

“No. No, I want the boys with me. I haven’t had proper time with them.”

“You will be going to France alone either way. What happens next is up to you,” said Harry.

“Fine. They stay and come with you,” agreed Isabella in defeat.

Upon arrival at the chateau, Isabella got accustomed to how Chambord was run. She met with everyone who worked on the grounds and especially those whom she would see on a daily basis. For the most part was left to wonder the Château and in the gardens. Her ancestors had built this palace centuries ago and now it was in her possession.

“Ma’am this is Count Johann Kinsky. He has been taking care of some of the financials of the running of the chateau and asked to speak to you.”

“Thank you, Norine,” smiled Isabella.

The elder woman nodded and left the room closing the door behind her. Johann had stared at the door waiting for it to be closed before talking, “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Kinsky. You have to elaborate more on that.”

“My father Ferdinand is a second cousin to both Marie and Georgina, The Princesses of Liechtenstein,” replied Count Johann.

“And your mother?” asked Isabella.

“Countess of Ursel. Charlotte is my mother's cousin, she’s the one who gave me this position.”

“Of course she would participate in nepotism. What about your grandparents?”

“Kinsky grandfather, Baroness grandmother, Ursel grandfather, and Croy princess grandmother.”

“Baroness grandmother? Is she a Belgian or former Habsburg subject?” asked Isabella.

“None, she was German. Through her, I am the third cousin to the current King of The Netherlands.”

“Interesting. Kinsky's usually going for princesses, not baronesses.”

“My grandmother’s cousin was the former prince consort of The Netherlands mother. I don’t think a title really mattered when a connection like that triumphed,” explained Johann.

“Anyhow, what did you have to speak to me about?” asked Isabella.

“The tours have sold nearly ten times than they usually do. The revenue is beyond what this chateau use to make. I wanted to recommend using that money to renovate some parts of the chateau.”

“That money will go back to the trust and before you say anything else, I have little to no say in that. It was decided a long time ago what percentage of the money would go back to the upkeeping,” said Isabella.

“I was talking with The Hereditary Prince of Liechtenstein and he said-”

“I could not care less about what he has to say,” interrupted Isabella.

“It was to my understanding that he is in charge of the trust. I was told to report to him regarding anything financial but your visit happened to come before I could talk to him,” said Johann in confusion.

“Why did you come speak to me if you were going to go over my head anyhow?”

“I thought you should know what is going on in your home,” answered Johann.

“Chambord has never been my home. I simply own it because Queen Fabiola thought it would make me more desired and powerful. I’ve owned this magnificent piece of history for years and this is the first time I ever visiting.”

“Forgive me for making assumptions.”

“You are forgiven but I would like for you not to bring anything like this up again. I care little for the financials of things, that is why I leave that to my godfather Alois,” replied Isabella.

“Should I not update you on progress as well?” asked Johann.

“Do what you wish in that regards but I could care less. I won’t be living here any time soon and it will stay open for all those to tour.”

“Should I tell your husband as well?”

“What is mine is mine. He will have no say in anything,” answered Isabella.

“Thank you for meeting with me ma’am,” ended Johann feeling vastly uncomfortable.

#PHFF #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry fanfic #royal fanfiction #royal fanfic #fanfiction

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madysonxbeckett · 5 years

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Anniversary // self para

Mady hardly considered this a family fun day. Some could argue Stella was far too young to truly understand why, on the same day each year, they visited a place lined with gray smooth stones in perfect rows or why one stone in particular made her mother look so sad. It wasn’t a place for a three year old toddler, but she would rather avoid sugarcoating the truth rather than her little girl spending years wondering why she didn’t have a father. Madyson knew the heartache that came with it all too well, yearning to know what really happened to her folks. She knew the obsession and when she did come upon the truth...she wished she had just left well enough alone. Her father, obsessed with the occult and the woman he set his sights on, forcing a marriage and a pregnancy just to rob his daughter of her parents for his selfishly deranged reasons. Madyson denied she ever inherited anything from him, but resilience and the desire to dig had to come from somewhere.

“Alright, little munchkin, out we go.” Madyson reached over and clicked off Stella’s booster seat belt as she gingerly lifted the child in her arms before closing the back door with a click of a lock. Being a single parent with a full-time profession meant life was a constant balancing act, so during the off chance the good doctor did receive a day away from the office, she spent as much of it with her daughter as she possibly could. Although, the balancing act became quite a literal one, as she weighed the child in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in another.

Madyson made the usual familiar route through the labyrinth of headstones, stopping for a moment to pluck a few flowers from the bouquet to set atop her mother’s grave. She would have stayed longer, maybe read her favorite book for a while, but this specific day was reserved for someone else as it always was every year.

Another year. Another year without him.

She remembered the day last year. The weather was an unfortunately cloudy forecast with the highest chance of rain, and now apart from a spot or two of fluffy white clouds, it’s the brightest day they’ve had this year thus far. Mady played the optimist and cared to believe Mother Nature’s cooperation reflected the vast improvement of her current life situation compared to where she was 365 days prior. That wasn’t saying much either. The city was still corrupt, her patients were still suffering, and not even pure optimism could change the fact she lost both parents and a fiancé.

She lowered Stella to the ground as they reached Theo’s grave marker, moving to crouch to her knees right there in the grass with the knowledge they weren’t going anywhere for a bit. “Go set these right on that ledge there, okay?” Mady handed over the flowers to the toddler and watched Stella slowly place them along the grave’s base before she waddled over straight into her mother’s arms. “Say hi to Daddy.” The blonde whispered, smiling as she heard Stella’s equally soft ‘hi, daddy’ while cradling the young girl close.

“Hi, Theo.” It never hurt any less speaking his name out loud no matter how many years pass. Madyson knew time healed all wounds, but it didn’t do a very thorough job with the scars still left. “I’m back, we’re back, just like we promised. It’s a very beautiful day, you would’ve loved it.” A brief glance around and back, “You remember how hard it was for me to tell stories. I never know where to start and I‘ll probably end up going off track like I always do, but you reminded me I should start from the beginning.” Mady pressed her lips together in a pondering manner, “Fiora’s doing well. She’s really enjoying childcare and I cannot tell you how wonderful it is having a reliable nanny on call all the time. It’s like Mary Poppins. Oh, and of course, Harrison’s still Harrison. I still haven’t answered the mystery in getting him to smile.” She paused, “Can’t blame him, truthfully. There isn’t many reasons to smile nowadays, especially here.”

“Stella’s close to starting preschool.” Madyson’s confidence in keeping the one-sided conversation light-hearted dropped almost instantly. “You should see our daughter now, Theo, how much she’s grown. She’s got your mess of hair.” She ruffled Stella’s locks, earning a small giggle from the tike and a teary-eyed smile from herself, “I really wish you were here to see her, Theo. She asks about you every day and I don’t know what to tell her. I have to give her just a small piece of information about you and every time I do, it’s like the air’s sucked from the room. And I can’t breathe.” Mady watched her vision blur and quickly lifted a hand to wipe away what spilled over. No, she wouldn’t do this now. If she wanted to teach her daughter what strength is, turning into a blubbering mess won’t do anyone any good. Besides, if she started crying now...it was a fear she would never be able to stop. “I’ve barely stumbled through three years trying to raise her without you and it won’t get any easier. I’m trying, but I’m making a million mistakes.”

Stella rested her head against Madyson’s shoulder, an action alone capable of sending her emotions spiraling, but also grounding her to reality. “I was a mess last year. I’m still a mess right now, but I feel a little less lost than I did before.” Mady’s gaze drifted to the recently trimmed grass, “I know you would’ve wanted me to chase happiness wherever I went and, um, I...I found it. His name’s Derek. A detective.” Her Derek. “He’s been called stuffy and no-nonsense and a bit of a grump if you mess with his food, but he has the biggest heart you would ever see. You just need to know how to dig deep for it.” Derek Monaghan, the enigma, the stubborn, the protector. The father. “He could never replace you, Theo. Just because I’ve fallen in love with someone else, doesn’t mean I’d ever fall out of love with you. He’s lost people he cares about and I think he understands that more than anyone. And I know no one could ever take your place as Stella’s father nor would I want them to, but I wouldn’t bring someone into her life if I wasn’t sure they’d stick around. Derek’s a good man.”

Madyson grew quiet as she permitted the silence to occupy the space around the pair. “All I know is I can’t be enough for our baby girl, Theo.” The words tumbled from her lips as a once unspoken truth she never would have admitted, “I told myself all she needed was one parent. One parent who could love her unconditionally and she’d want for nothing, but we were supposed to raise her together.” It seemed like a far away dream. Foolish, naive. “How am I supposed to tell her why you were taken from us? How do I look her in the eyes and show her a cruel world we live in? It’s not fair, Theo, it’s not fair.” The tears were spilling from her eyes now, twisting her throat in a pleading sob. Unlike a moment previously, Mady chose to just let them be. “I don’t know how to do any of this without you even after all this time. I miss you so much.”

“Don’t cry, Mommy.” Madyson felt a small tap on her shoulder as her blurry gaze landed on Stella. She used the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks and leaned forward to press her lips to the girl’s forehead. “Mommy’s just sad and it’s...it’s okay to be sad sometimes.” She reached out and cupped Stella’s small face in her hands, “Daddy loved you very, very much, Stella. I don’t want you ever forgetting that. Can you promise Mommy you’ll always remember?” The child’s expression grew puzzled, mirroring a look reminiscent of her mother’s own before nodding, “I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.” Mady kissed the top of Stella’s head and slowly rose to stand before sweeping the child in her arms, “I think it’s time to go, my love.” The woman knew herself. She would stay posted at that grave until dusk if they didn’t leave regardless how emotionally drained she felt. Three long years couldn’t scrub the pain away and no amount of time can, but there was a significant difference between last year and this one. She had Derek waiting for her. Madyson ran her gaze along the name staring back at her for a long beat. Theo Williams. A haunting name she will have to carry with her for the rest of her life. The word once carried love and now held an overwhelming melancholy too heart-shattering to give a proper description. It’s also the name to give her strength.

It did cross her mind the reason she and Stella were at the cemetery in the first place. As Madyson turned to leave, the simple sentence effortlessly lingered from her lips.

“Happy Birthday, Theo.”

#self para #anniversary #wow shitty title go me

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immiesradio-blog · 5 years

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You’re My Best Friend ~ Roger Taylor x OC 7.1

Chapter 7.1

September 1968 Barbara's P.O.V

"Here, I've got you breakfast," I hear Stella mumble, her voice was faded and quiet as I had still not woken up yet physically from the night before, "Barb."

My eyes flickered and blinked quickly, opening my eyes and seeing a blurry, kind of disfigured Stella standing over my bed with a tray of food. Her hand reached towards me and lightly shook me until my eyes widened, "Stella!"

"What? I was just waking you up," she explains, laughing a little when she sees my unamused facial expression, "With food."

I can't help but smile a little at her kindness, "Thank you, I'm sorry, I had quite the night last night."

She placed the tray of breakfast on my lap as I sat myself up so that my back was resting against the head board. Stella then took a seat at the foot of my bed, lifting her feet up onto the bed, "I can tell."

Silence took over as I remembered the events of last night, seeing Roger again for the first time in years. I thought that maybe it had been some silly dream, but I now knew that it wasn't. I felt consumed by confusion, happiness, nervousness, terror, all of these emotions took over me as I thought about the idea of being able to talk to him again, but I was also in a state of panic due to the fact that I was very sure that he had forgotten about me. I wanted to talk to him, to hug him, to forget about our petty fight, that stupid argument, but what if he didn't feel the same if I confronted him? I'm pretty sure I'd lock myself in my own wardrobe and stay there for the rest of my life.

I just wanted my best friend back.

"Barb? God you're all shook up, what happened last night?" I can hear Stella worry about me, leaning forward as she places a hand on my arm, "I'm worried about you, you came back so early last night."

I frowned, looking down at the tray of food on my lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact that would give anything away, I also shook my head quickly, "I'm fine, Stel, it's okay."

"It's not, you can talk to me, you know that right?" She asks as she reaches for the tray, moving it off of my lap and placing it beside me, "You're not fine."

I stayed silence, keeping my eyes on my fidgety fingers beginning to grow uncomfortable about the lack of response or words from Stella, "Tell me, please."

I let out a groan, defeated as I begrudgingly places my hand over my forehead, "Fine, fine, I- er, I saw him."

She squinted her eyes at me, extremely perplexed, "You're not making sense. You saw who?"

I rolled my eyes, "Roger."

"Who's Roger?" She asks, still with the same confused expression on her face, leaning further forward.

I groan again in annoyance, not wanting to go into further depth about the guy, it was not something that I was willing to talk about at all, "Stella, I've told you about him, remember? The day I went on that date with Freddie. My old best friend? The argume-,"

Her mouth comforts into an 'O' shape, her eyes widening, "Him?!"

"Him."

"Why are you upset? That's amazing?" She asks, a smile broke out onto her face as she grins, "This could be a great opportunity for you."

"I-, I don't kno-,"

"what do you mean you don't know? Can you imagine the amounts of people who have lost their best friends to you know, something like death?" She explains, her face becoming serious, "Some people don't have the chance to rekindle with a loved one, let alone speak to them."

She was right, very right and I couldn't deny it whatsoever, so I agreed, nodding as I grabbed a pillow and held it in front of my face, head butting it, "I know, I know," I reply in a defeated tone.

"Is there anyway you'd be able to see him again, talk to him?" She asks, her voice raising in pitch, hoping for the best, "How did you even end up seeing him in the first place?"

I raise my eyebrows, thinking aback, still in disbelief at the coincidence of seeing him again, and the connection that had been made by Freddie with Roger, "Well, er, he's the drummer in the band that Freddie has been talking about for months, and he also just so happens to be friends with Freddie, the other person working at the stall."

"Jesus Barbara, you couldn't get more of a perfect scenario," she replies, a smile forming on her lips as she begins to giggle.

"What's so funny?" I say, trying to keep a straight face, but becoming amused at how funny she looked.

"I- I don't kn-know, maybe j-ust the fact th-at he has been p-practically under you-r nose this - wh-whole time," she lets out in small fits of giggles, her hand pressed against her chest, "Wow."

"Wow indeed."

"We must go to the stall immediately!" She suddenly squeals, standing up on the bed and jumping up and down.

"No, no, no, not today!" I shout, reaching for the tray of food next to me, holding onto it to stop it from ripping off of the bed.

She groans, falling onto the bed, "Why not?"

"I don't know, I just, I need a day to cool down," I reply, letting go of the tray and steadying myself.

"Tomorrow?" She asks, her eyes widening. I loved how supportive she was of me, how thoughtful and interested she was of my life and my happiness, "We need to go anyway, I miss Mary and Fred, additionally, money to pay for rent."

I exhale, "Tomorrow."

She squealed excitedly, clenching her fists, trying to keep the happiness from bursting out of her. For the first time I smiled to myself, trying to think positively about talking to Roger after not seeing him properly in so long.

For the rest of that morning I had been psyching myself up for reuniting with him tomorrow and had tried not to think about a certain possibility that when he'd see me, he may be angry and ignore me, or worse, he may just not recognise me at all.

Me and Stella had received an unexpected visit from Freddie today too, he wanted to make sure that I was okay after my sudden exit out of the bar last night.

"Me and Barbara would like to come to the stall tomorrow, if that's okay?" I hear Stella ask Freddie from the kitchen as I sat down beside the radio, listening to the latest news.

"Of course, Mary would be delighted, she misses you dearly," I hear Freddie say, and their voices become more distinct and clear as they appear at the door frame, walking into the room with grins on their faces, "I'm sure my new friend will be just as delighted too."

My face flushed as Stella glanced at me knowingly, "Likewise."

"Are you perfectly sure that you are okay there Barbara dear?" Freddie asks, snapping me out of the bubble that I had created, just me and the radio next to me.

"Oh yes, I'm okay Fred," I answer him, my voice a little more high pitched than usual at the sudden question, he didn't look too convinced, "How has Mary been? I haven't seen her at Beba recently."

He waited a few seconds to reply, taking a sip of the coffee that he and Stella had made, "She was a little under the weather."

"Poor thing, I've missed her."

Freddie motioned for me to sit in the space between him and Stella, who was lighting herself up a cigarette. I rolled my eyes playfully as I picked myself up and walked over to the two of them, dropping myself onto the space in between the two of them, causing them to jump up slightly.

"Silly creature you are," Freddie mumbles, "You had me worried sick last night."

"You don't need to worry Fred, I told you, I suddenly felt a little sick," I lie, but my tone stays serious as I keep a straight face, but I could hear Stella giggle lowly at my response towards him.

"Hm, okay," he mutters, leaning away from me so that he could take a good look at me, "Just making sure."

I offered him a cigarette as an attempt at an apology, or the start of one. He gladly took it and reached for the lighter on the coffee table in front of the three of us.

"Thanks."

We all sat back as far as we could, staring up at the ceiling, "How's the band going?"

"It's okay, taking a small break, Design has been a fuckwit."

"Boy same, you're not lying."

Freddie didn't stay too long after that, we were all feeling extremely tired even though me and Stella didn't really have a valid reason to be. He hugged the both of us at the same time, tightly, grinning as he did so, "I love you both too much and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

"Until then Fred," I reply as I follow him towards the front door, he quickly pressed a friendly kiss to my check before leaving the apartment.

"Right, are you ready to leave for class, Stella?" I ask her, peaking my head into the living room.

She immediately turned her head to look up at me, her brows furrowed and her eyes squinted, "I thought we weren't going there today," referring to uni.

"We haven't got anything else planned at all have we?"

She replied with a shake of her head, "No, not anymore."

"Well then, let's get some work done."

Tomorrow soon became today, last night I had found it hard to fall asleep, thinking too much about Roger and what was to happen when I see him, if it were to be a joyful moment, or a horrific one. My head wandered to the wild times that we had shared as young teenagers on the beach and dancing to the radio, what I'd give to turn back time and live one of those days all over again. I smiled to myself, beginning to think more positively, perhaps this was where me and Roger's friendship would unpause and play. These were the thoughts that helped me fall into a deep sleep as nervous jitters course through my body.

"Wake the fuck up Ba-ba! It's your time to shine baby!" I wake up to Stella's squealing in the morning, she rolls forward onto my bed, bouncing herself until I was sitting up and hitting her repetitively with my pillow.

"Fuck off!" I shout, laughing and snorting at the same time, pushing her off of the bed before lying back down, "How dare you interrupt my beauty sleep."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I know how much you need that, ugly!" She groans, holding herself up as she jumps onto my bed again, "Just kidding!"

I hold myself up on my elbows, "You better be."

"I swear, now get up," she replies, reaching for one of the pillows that I had thrown at her before before chucking it back at me, hitting my head.

"Fine," I say, "I suppose you're helping me with my outfit today then?"

"You bet your ass I am, I'm going to grab something for you," she states, smirking as she leaves the room before running back in around seven minutes later with a tight dress.

"Wait- Stella, no, can I pick my outfit this time please?" I ask, silently praying to the gods above, putting on a fake frown and attempting to look cute in order to get my way.

She practically growls, "Fine, but I have to approve of it."

"Deal."

In the end, the outfit that I had picked out which had been approved by her and myself, it was simple, a pink top with a purple patterned skirt, purple tights, a navy jacket to go over the top along with knee-high black boots. Stella ended up doing my hair, pulling it up into a neat bun before taking a step backwards, "You look so stunning, I'm jealous. I really need to get myself ready now."

I looked myself a few times more in the body length mirror that me and Stella had managed to pay for one month where everything was much less stressful. I smiled at my appearance, this was just a normal outfit I'd wear day to day maybe, the skirt was one of my favourite items of clothing that I owned overall. Almost looking forward to leaving for Kensington, I really wanted to get this over with and get there in order to rid the nervousness that I was feeling at the tension building, the thought of seeing him.

"Can you hurry up?!" I call out after about fifteen minutes of waiting, "I'm practically a skeleton at this point."

Very soon after, she waltzed our of her room, mumbling something along the lines of 'drama queen' as she reaches for her handbag which was hanging by her coat, "Here's your satchel," she says, handing over my pastel pink smallish bag before taking her own and placing the strap over her shoulder.

I quickly checked through my bag, making sure that I had everything with me, keys, cigarettes, some extra ones for Freddie and Mary in case they didn't have any, money and a whole lot of bravery, because I needed much of that.

"Let's go," Stella says, opening up the apartment door and waiting a little to the side in order for to walk past her so that she could lock the door, "And you know the address don't you?"

"Yes, got it all memorised, don't you worry," I reply, stepping quickly down the two little steps in front of our apartment door.

"You sure?"

"Very sure, I've got an astoundingly good memory Stel, now keep me occupied with some entertaining stories, or I'm going to shit myself," I explain as she catches up with me, her footsteps as quick as mine.

"Calm the fuck down, he's not going to kill you."

"But what if he wants to?"

"He's your best friend Barb, and you're his best friend, why on earth would he want to murder you?" I hear her ask as we reach our nearby bus stop, kicking at the floor a little to calm myself down a bit more.

"I can think of one thing for sure."

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takivvatanga · 4 years

Text

ghosts.

“Do I really have to stay the whole weekend?”

Stella slides down in her seat, tugs at the seatbelt, trying to catch glimpses of her parents’ faces reflected in the car mirrors. Usually, she loves riding in the car, but today, cramped into the back seat next to several pieces of luggage, she is feeling more than just a little apprehensive.

“Stella, we talked about this. You’re going to be fine, sweetheart. We just…”

Assire turns around to face her daughter, and Stella can tell by a certain tension in her face, by a certain expression in her eyes, by a certain inflection in her voice that she is worried about something. Should Stella be worried, too? She looks to her father for reassurance, but Jonathan’s face does not offer any insight into the matter – whatever the matter may be.

“We just need some time together. Away from the city, away from home. Just your Dad and I.”

“But why can’t I come too? It’s not fair.”

“Stella, you are going to your aunt Mary’s for the weekend as we all agreed.” Her father’s tone brooks no insolence, and Stella shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “If I recall this correctly, you didn’t have any objections to this plan last week, so I cannot see what on earth the problem is all of a sudden.”

“Jonathan, please. She’s only nine.”

Assire reaches across, gently rests her hand on her husband’s arm. He casts a quick sideways glance at her, a little irritated. He hates being distracted when he is driving.

“And nine is old enough to stay the weekend at her aunt’s.”

“I’m just saying she’s never been away from us for that long.”

“She’s stayed at Mary’s before.”

“But only for one night.”

“If she could do one night, she can do two.”

Stella groans. She hates when they talk like that, as if she wasn’t even there. But she is there, right there, elbowing her mother’s bag to the side, her little feet kicking at the seat in front of her.

“Are you going to get a divorce?!”

A sharp intake of breath from her mother. Her father’s grip on the steering wheel tightening, his eyes, blue like Stella’s, narrowing as she meets his gaze via the rear vision mirror.

“No, sweetheart, no. No way. Never.” Such conviction in her mother’s voice.

“What on earth made you think that? Is that what’s been worrying you about this weekend?”

Stella nods, half embarrassed and half elated, her eyes downcast, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt. For a fraction of a second, for half a heartbeat, Assire sees herself when she looks over her shoulder at her daughter, and it makes her breath catch in her throat.

I made you, she thinks. I made you, a whole entire person. You could be anyone, anyone you wanted and here you are, being just like me.

“Christina from Hockey says when she had to stay at her auntie’s house because her mum and dad went away when they came back they got a divorce and they fought all the time and now she has to live with her mum and her mum’s new boyfriend who is horrible and drinks beers all the time and she only gets to see her dad every other weekend. Please don’t get a divorce!”

“Stella. Stella, listen to me.” Her father’s voice is soft, soothing, his words honest and heartfelt.

“I know it’s a scary thought, and I am very sorry that your friend is having such a difficult time. It’s a lot to deal with, at your age. But I promise you, a divorce is the last thing on our mind.”

“Never. We’d never.” Assire shakes her head. “Out of all the things you could possibly have to worry about, sweetheart, us splitting up isn’t one of them.”

We’ve come so far, together.

“You can tell Christina she’s welcome to come over to our place any time. Maybe you could invite her after training on Wednesday? We could get takeaways, head over to the park if the weather is nice. What do you think?”

Stella nods.

“Okay.”

“You’ll have a good time at your aunt’s this weekend. You and Neville can play all you like, finally. You miss him, don’t you?”

Stella nods again. It’s true. She does miss him. He’s her best friend, after all. My cousin, now, she reminds herself. It’s a weird thought, but in a good way.

“But –“

But what about the ghosts, she wants to ask.

“But what, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, Mum.”

Ghosts aren’t real.

“Mum?”

“Yes, Stella?”

“I haven’t got any shoes on.”

__________

“Stella, where are your shoes?”

Aunt Mary is beautiful. Stella has always thought so. But aunt Mary is also sad, even if she doesn’t show it. Stella is good at noticing things, and Mary’s sadness has not escaped her. Stella doesn’t understand why it is there, that deep, dark sadness that follows in her wake, that clings to her, that seems to smother her smiles before they can reach her eyes.

The girl shuffles her feet, looks down at her grass-stained socks.

“I forgot them at home”, she shrugs. She can almost feel her father cringe beside her. Her mother clears her throat and picks at the tassels on her scarf.

Mary crosses her arms over her chest, shakes her head, her expression one of undisguised displeasure. Her earrings jingle softly, and Stella can’t help but be in awe of the way they catch the light, oh how they sparkle, what she wouldn’t give to wear long earrings just like those.

“Your child got into the car without her shoes on and you didn’t notice?”

Jonathan shrugs, scratches his chin, won’t meet his sister’s eyes. Assire moves a little closer to him, her hand grasping his sleeve.

Mary chuckles, uncrosses her arms. There are rings on her fingers, her nails are painted bright red, the skin of her hands pale white, perfectly smooth and even. Nothing like Stella’s mother’s hands, with their dark spots and the nails bitten down to the quick.

“Where’s Neville?”

“He’s in his room. Go on. You know the way, don’t you?”

Stella nods, smiling brightly, sets off at a run before her aunt’s voice stops her dead in her tracks.

“Your bag, Stella.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot!”

“Mindfulness, Stella. Mindfulness.”

“Okay.”

__________

“I’m so sorry about her shoes I honestly didn’t even notice and she didn’t say anything until we were almost here and-“

“It’s fine, Assire. Don’t worry about it.”

This means nothing. Everybody who knows Assire knows that telling her not to worry is like telling a bird not to fly or a fish not to swim. Assire knows it too, but she tries to smile regardless.

“We can go back and get them and drop them off or-“

“She’s going to have to wear some of Neville’s.”

“But they won’t fit her.”

“Exactly. She’ll be a little bit uncomfortable, but she’s never going to forget her shoes again.”

“But-“

“She’s old enough to take responsibility for putting shoes on her feet, she’s old enough to deal with the consequences of neglecting to do so.”

Jonathan shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”

“You guess, dear brother? Go on, admit it. You know I’m right. No guesswork about it. Now, shouldn’t you two be off?”

“Yes, we should –“

“What about Neville?” Assire’s voice is insistent, almost demanding. “How is he doing, Mary? Is… is he okay?”

Mary sighs, gestures vaguely with a flawlessly manicured hand. “I honestly don’t know. He’s… quiet. Too quiet. Sometimes he talks to himself, in his room. I don’t think he knows I can hear him. He cries in the night. I… I don’t know what to do. Everything I say, everything I do, nothing makes a difference.”

“You have to be patient with him, Mary. He’s not… he didn’t grow up how we did. What we took for granted, Neville never had those things, probably didn’t even dare dream of them, and then the accident-“

“I know that, Jonathan.”

“Let me finish, please. Neville, he- his memory, his ability to regulate his emotions, to adapt to changing circumstances, all of that has been affected – will likely always be affected – by his head injury. You can’t expect him to adjust as, for example, Stella would. That little boy lost everything. He needs you to be patient with him, Mary.”

“His physio is going well. He doesn’t like it, I feel like I have to fight a major battle to even just get him into the car to go to his sessions, but he’s made fantastic progress. He’s getting stronger, his balance has improved so much. I just wish I could say the same for his mind.”

“That’s because minds don’t heal like the body does.” Assire’s voice is barely above a whisper, but nonetheless there’s a gravity to her words. A sense of understanding beyond the comprehension of the Reid siblings. “This –“ she gestures at the house and the street upon which it stands, the grand old mansion in all its glory. “This is a different world for him. I know a thing or two about what that feels like. Remember the first time I came here? How awkward I was? How I hardly said a word because I was struggling to even comprehend that this is how you live? That’s what it’s like for him. No, it’s worse. Because he’s only a little boy. A little boy who has been let down by the most important people in his life, the people who should have kept him safe. I don’t know much about head injuries or physiotherapy or anything else like it, but I do know what it feels like to be afraid. And most of all, what it feels like to be desperate to not want to ruin the single best thing that has ever happened to me.” She takes her husband’s hand in hers as she says it. Her heart is beating fast, maybe she shouldn’t have spoken so candidly? But it needed to be said, didn’t it? For Neville’s sake, Assire wants this to work out. For Neville’s sake, as well as for Mary’s.

“Jonathan is right, he needs your patience. You can make this work, Mary. I know you can.”

“I… why, thank you, Assire. I think.”

“Tell him we miss him. Please.”

“I will.”

__________

“Neville! Neville it’s me, Stella! Can I come in?”

She is standing on tiptoe, rapidly tapping on the door of Neville’s room, her bag slung carelessly over her shoulder.

“Neville!”

There’s no response at first, and Stella can’t help but feel ill at ease. What if the ghosts got him? But it’s still daytime, surely the ghosts aren’t even up yet. Stella checks over her shoulder, just in case. The portraits on the wall of the hallway, are they watching her? Did something move, over in the corner? Did she catch a hint of cigar smoke, the rustle of silk skirts? Stella shivers. When the door opens slightly, it is enough to send her jumping out of her skin. “Neville, you gave me a fright, I thought you were a ghost!” Stella doesn’t hesitate to wrap her little arms around her friend, almost expecting them to pass through him as if through air, endlessly relieved when he is solid as always.

“I missed you so much! Can you believe I’m gonna stay here the whole weekend? Mum and Dad are going away but it’s okay you don’t have to worry they’re not getting a divorce or anything.”

Neville’s room is dark, the heavy curtains drawn despite the fact that it is still daylight outside, the only light in the room being provided by a small brass lamp on the bedside table. A half finished lego construction sits amidst loose blocks on the floor in front of the unmade bed. Apart from that, the room is tidy, almost too tidy. As if it was half lived in, inhabited by someone who is not entirely real but not quite a ghost.

A ghost.

Stella shuffles her feet uncomfortably. She doesn’t like how dark it is in here, she doesn’t like the way the shadows in the corners seem to be solidifying, changing shape.

“Why is it so dark in here? Aren’t you scared of the ghosts?”

With a few determined steps, Stella is over at the window, pulls the curtains open. Sunlight falls into the room. There’s a big tree outside the window, but not a single bird in sight. A shame.

“They’re not like that.” Neville’s voice is small and quiet. Now that it’s light, Stella can see that his eyes are red from crying and his nose is running. He wipes it on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and Stella pulls a face. Gross.

“Who? Who’s not like what? Are you crying?”

“I’m NOT.” Neville huffs, but won’t meet Stella’s eyes, settling down on the floor next to his lego instead, his movements awkward, hesitant, more like an old man than a little boy. Stella’s Dad says that Neville has screws in his leg and hip. Stella secretly doesn’t believe him. Screws go in pieces of wood, not in people.

She sits down herself, her little legs folded up underneath her, across from Neville. The lego blocks sit in the middle between them, a no man’s land in an incidental conflict.

“Do you want this one?” Stella picks up a block, holds it out to him. Neville picks it out of her open palm without looking at her but mumbles gratitude under his breath. Stella begins to build, she doesn’t know what just yet, she doesn’t really feel like playing but he does want to be with Neville. Maybe her presence will be enough to take his sadness away, or maybe it won’t, but the very least she can do is to try.

“So… have you seen them? The ghosts I mean.”

She probably shouldn’t ask, but she simply cannot help herself. If Neville says they’re not real, then they probably aren’t. If they aren’t real, maybe she can sleep without the light on tonight, without fear of the Old Lady, the Sad Man, the Little Boy.

Neville’s eyes lift briefly from his lego, but he isn’t looking at Stella. Instead, his gaze is fixed on the corner of the room, between the window and the wardrobe. He nods briefly, stacks another set of blocks together. “Sure.”

”You have?!” Stella’s eyes grow wide and all colour seems to drain from her face. All of a sudden, she feels cold, as if an icy wind had touched the nape of her neck. Stella shivers. “Aren’t you scared?”

“Why would I be? They are nice ghosts. They don’t harm anybody. They’re just lonely. I make tea sometimes. For the Old Lady. She’s very nice, but also sad. She… she’s looking for her husband, and that’s one thing I don’t understand. Because he is here, too. I’ve seen him upstairs, in the study. He likes to look out the window. He… he coughs a lot. I didn’t think ghosts could cough, but he does. I don’t understand why she can’t see him, too. You’d think ghosts could see each other, right?”

Stella is lost for words, staring at Neville with her mouth wide open, a little thrilled but mostly terrified.

“I’ve seen them too! That’s exactly what they’re like! The Old Lady, she… she scares me. Last time I stayed the night here I woke up and she was sitting on my bed! She was watching me sleep and she felt cold and sad. She didn’t even go away when I turned the light on and when I went out in the kitchen she followed me!”

“She’s never followed me. She must like you. I mean… this is your Dad’s family’s house, after all. You’re probably related to her.”

“I don’t want to be related to a ghost! I don’t want them to be real!”

I knew they were real all along.

__________

The room is dark and silent. Stella’s pillow is slightly damp from her hair, freshly washed and plaited by her aunt. She has pulled the duvet all the way up to her face and the room should by all means be comfortably warm, but Stella can’t for the life of her stop shivering. She can’t stop thinking about the ghosts. The very much real ghosts that haunt this old house. If only she wasn’t so scared to sneak her hand out from underneath the blankets, maybe she could turn the bedside light on to keep the restless spirits at bay.

Please don’t haunt me, Stella thinks. Please don’t haunt me, please don’t hurt me, please just leave me alone, oh please!

She thinks about her parents, far away, too far to keep her safe, completely unaware of just how terrified she is, right now.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry –

It’s useless. She’s only little, little and scared and all alone in this dark room, in this big, scary house, and she can’t hold back her tears no matter how hard she tries to, and all of a sudden the Old Lady is there, right there, right next to her, so close that Stella can make out every line in her wrinkled face, every fold of her dress, every strand of her white hair.

She looks sad, sad and confused, half-real, a shadow given form. Stella wants to scream, wants to call for aunt Mary, for Neville, for Mum and Dad, someone, anyone, come and help! Please!

The Old Lady shakes her head, places her finger over her lips, then reaches out to touch Stella’s cheek. It’s not like anything she has ever felt before, that touch. Icy cold, both real and unreal at the same time.

“No! Don’t!”

Stella scrambles out of bed, bolts out the door of the guest room, down the hallway, the inlaid wooden floors cold against the soles of her bare feet.

“Neville! Neville!” She bursts through the door into his room, out of breath and half out of her mind, her fingers scrambling for the light switch.

The ceiling light flares, so bright it is almost blinding, dispersing the shadows. The curtains are half drawn, moving lazily in the breeze that blows through the open window.

Neville’s bed is empty.

feat. @starscorned thank you for enabling me bc i haven’t written anything that has flowed so effortlessly in a long time

#vignette: stella #vignette: assire #verse: modern #divorce mention tw #i mean we all know they will never split up #they are the true meaning of til death do us part #but that fear to stella is very real #tagging it just in case #also poor ghost!emelyne #she just wants to love and soothe and comfort her granddaughter #i have a lot of feelings about this AU ok #also the reid family dynamic and story #is just so fucking flawless it fits so well into modern verse even without the supernatural aspects from their canon #me pointing at every single character in this verse whether active muse or npc: T H E Y #also i thought i better put a read more bc this came out at over 3k words #i wish i could do my portfolio that fast

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inkoasisfic · 7 years

Photo

Waiting Game

Stella works at a flower shop in London and Harry just wants to know her.

An AU about flowers, chance meetings and moving on.

(i wrote this for an exchange FOREVER ago and i’m cleaning out my word docs so here’s this if you haven’t read it!)

The first time Harry goes into The Watering Can, he’s looking for something for his sister and her new baby. The woman behind the counter is busy talking with a middle-aged man so he goes to the cooler to look through the arrangements, only slightly wincing at the price tags that accompany them. He’s just reaching for a vase of roses when the click of heels has him looking over his shoulder.

“What are we looking for today?” the woman asks and if Harry could actually form a sentence, he’d tell her that his sister just had a little girl that morning and he’s off to St. Mary’s to meet her but he just blinks at her, mouth hanging open like an absolute knob but she doesn’t seem at all bothered, just gives him a little smile and takes the vase from his hands. “Roses are a lovely choice. Can I ask what they’re for?” By the grace of God, Harry snaps out of his trance and shakes his head a bit to clear his thoughts.

“Oh, um, my sister. My sister just had a baby.”

“Oh how lovely!” she coos, whole face lighting up as if it were her own sister instead of a complete stranger’s. “Boy or girl?”

“Um, girl.”

“How wonderful. Does she have a name yet?” she asks, gently pushing him aside and putting the vase of roses back.

“Charlotte,” he tells her, watching as she plucks single flowers out of different tubs until she’s got an assortment of pinks and red. “We’re calling her Charlie, after my grandfather.”

“Oh I love that.” Harry follows her to the counter, watching her slice a chunk of ribbon from its spool and plucking a vase from the shelf behind her. “I love classic names, especially when they have meaning like that. I was named after my grandmother who passed away before I was born, so it meant a lot to my parents to pass it on. I’d love to have a daughter one day, name her after my mum.”

“What’s her name?”

“Anne.”

“Mine too.”

“Stop!” the girl gasps, smiling at him like he’s just told her the most wonderful news. “What a coincidence.”

“It is,” Harry agrees, watching her trim stems and tie ribbons all the while listening to her tell him about her best friend who just had a baby a few months ago and how she can’t get over how delicious he smells and the adorable noises he makes when he’s sleeping. Before he knows it, he’s got a vase full of flowers in his hand and his wallet is forty pounds lighter, but he’s smiling like a crazy person as he makes his way to the tube station, excited to meet the new woman in his life.

---

Charlie is everything Harry imagined and more. The second he opened the door and saw his sister cuddled up in her bed with a tiny buddle in her arms, he knew he was hooked.

“Oh Gem,” he whispers, setting the flowers on the windowsill and walking to her bedside. He leans over a bit, tugging the blanket down just enough to get a good look at her tiny face. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Thanks, H.” Gemma smiles down at her daughter, stroking a finger down her cheek.

“Where’s Kev?”

“He and Mum went to get some lunch, they should be back soon. Those for me?” she asks, looking over at the flowers.

“Oh. Yeah, got ‘em at that little place by the antique shop that Mum’s always going to.”

“Oh sure, the one with the hand painted window.”

“That’s the one.”

After Harry washes up, he pulls a chair up to the bed and takes Charlie from Gem, cradling her close and relaxing into the chair while they visit. He talks quietly, listens intently as Gemma gives him a play by play of the birth (minus the gory details) but he can’t take his eyes away from that little face.

“Oh Harry, you’re here!”

“Hi Mum.”

“Hello, love.” Anne bends down to press a kiss to his forehead, smoothing his hair back the same way she has for the last twenty-four years, smiling fondly as she looks at her granddaughter. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She’s perfect. Well done, Kev.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods, sitting on the side of the bed by his wife.

“Excuse you,” Gemma scoffs, swatting his arm. “I did all the hard work, you just had the fun.”

“And you did so well, baby.” Harry looks away when Kevin leans in to kiss Gemma, smiling at his mum as she tells him about how brave Gemma was and how Kevin almost passed out when he decided to look when the doctor said she was crowning.

“Don’t ever do it,” Kevin tells him, face pale as if he’s watching it play over in his mind. “You can never come back from that.”

“Oh shut up,” Gemma laughs, launching into another story about how embarrassing her husband was during delivery. Harry loves every minute of it.

---

He’s trying to pick the perfect bunch of bananas when he sees her again. She’s standing by the strawberries, carefully inspecting each carton with a furrowed brow and what appears to be absolute concentration. Harry would laugh except he’s doing the same thing with the bananas because they can’t be too ripe and they can’t be too green, and there absolutely cannot be any bruises. He’s just about to go say hello when a man walks up behind her, slipping a hand over her shoulder and whispering in her ear. He can’t even register disappointment because he’s too shocked at the sight of a baby in his arms. And holy shit, does she have a baby? Is she married? How did he not notice a ring? Before he can even formulate an escape plan, he’s jostled back into reality by a trolley bumping into his.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” And of course it’s the flower girl. She blinks at him for a second, like she’s trying to place where she knows him from, and then it must click because she smiles at him and grabs his wrist like they’re long lost friends. “Oh my gosh, hi! How are you? How’s Charlie?”

“I’m…fine,” Harry tells her, in slight shock that she even remembers him after almost a month. “Charlie’s great. I’m surprised you remembered her name.”

“I never forget a baby,” she laughs like he’s the silliest person alive. The man at her side clears his throat, raising his brows at her as he gently bounces the baby in his arms. “Oh, sorry. This is Louis,” she tells Harry, slipping an arm around the brunette’s waist. “And this handsome little man is Freddie, the one I was telling you about.”

“That smells delicious?” Harry laughs, reaching a hand out to shake Louis’. “Nice to meet you. ‘m Harry.”

“You a friend of Stell’s, then?” Louis asks, adjusting Freddie as he squawks.

“Sorry?”

“Stella,” she tells Harry, smiling at his confused look. “That’s me, by the way. I guess we never properly introduced ourselves.”

“Stella,” Harry nods, smiling politely before looking back at Louis. “I stopped in the flower shop a few weeks ago and she helped me out.”

“His sister just had a baby,” Stella adds, lifting a hand adjust the pacifier in Freddie’s mouth. “She’s well? And your sister?”

“They’re both great, thanks.”

“Oh good, I was thinking about them the other day when I was doing the arrangements for a baby shower. Was hoping you’d stop back in so I could see a picture.”

Harry spends the next five minutes showing her the dozens of photos in his camera roll, gushing about how pretty Charlie is and how she kicks like she’s playing for Man U and how she thankfully inherited the dimples from his mum’s side of the family. He could have stood there talking to her all night but Freddie seemed to have other plans.

“Better get going,” Louis announces, rocking the crying baby as Stella reaches for him. He passes him off and grabs the trolley, telling Harry it was nice to meet him before starting toward the cashiers.

“It was good to see you,” Stella tells him, tutting at Freddie as she turns to follow Louis. “If you’re ever in the neighborhood, stop by the shop and say hello.”

“I will,” Harry promises, watching her walk away. He doesn’t even notice how he rubs a hand over his heart as she goes.

---

Harry hates Portobello Road on Saturdays. The market is always too cramped and his mum always takes too long, having to ask questions about every single item she’s interested in and usually walks away empty handed. It’s normally Gemma who goes antiquing with her but she’s home with Charlie so Harry’s been drafted to take her place until she’s feeling up to it. “I’m thinking I’d like to find a nice table for the sitting room, something rustic, a little worn looking.”

He hums in agreement, halfheartedly listening as he tries to dodge a small boy who cuts him off as his father chases after him. He isn’t feeling well, tired and hungover because Niall insisted they stay up until two in the morning drinking and playing FIFA. Normally Harry wouldn’t have been upset over it but he’d forgotten about meeting up with his mum and haphazardly threw on sweats and a jumper before running out the door. Now he’s hiding behind his sunglasses, praying they keep the spring sunlight from making his headache worse because he doesn’t feel like throwing up in front of an audience.

“Are you even listening?” Anne asks, looking at him over her shoulder. “If you didn’t want to come you should have just said so.”

“I just don’t feel well,” Harry mumbles, ducking under an awning to get some shade.

“You’re a grown man, Harry, you can tell Niall no.”

Harry rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses because he never could get away with anything when he was younger. His mum would take one look at him and know he’d been up to something. Some things never change. He’s just about to excuse himself to find a toilet when he hears her.

“Harry?” He closes his eyes, swearing under his breath before turning around and plastering a very phony smile on his face. “It is you,” Stella smiles as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder. She holds her hand up to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sunlight to look up at him. “Enjoying a day at the market?”

“Um, yeah, I-“

“If by enjoying you mean whining like a toddler then yes, he’s enjoying himself.” Anne smiles at Stella even as Harry glares at her but both women ignore him in order to introduce themselves.

“I was just picking up a few new pots for the store when I saw Harry and thought I’d say hello,” she tells Anne, explaining that she works at The Watering Can and then opens her bag and shows off the tin watering cans she found and what flowers she plans to fill them with. “We just got a shipment in and I’m itching to work with the freesia and hyacinths, do up a big spring display for Easter.”

“I’ll have to stop in next week and take a look,” Anne decides, slipping her arm through Harry’s and smiling up at him. “Ready to head home, darling? Get in a nap before dinner?”

“Please don’t talk about food,” he groans, wincing at the thought.

“Are you sick?” Stella asks, voice laced with concern that has Anne grinning.

“Drank a bit too much last night,” Anne informs her, tutting at Harry as she tucks a flyaway hair behind his ear. “Just needs a nap and a fry up and he’ll be right as rain.”

“Mum,” Harry groans, putting his fist in front of his mouth as if that’ll ward off the nausea.

“It was lovely to meet you, Stella. I’ll be sure to pop in next week.”

“I look forward to it. Feel better, Harry.” She smiles at him, sending a little wave before turning and disappearing into the crowded street.

“She’s lovely, bear.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Very friendly. You seem to get on well.”

“Mum-“

“Just an observation,” she tells him, holding her hands up innocently. “Come on, love, let’s get you home and into bed.” Harry’s never heard a better plan in his life.

---

When Niall comes home a week later telling Harry that he has a date with the barista from their favorite café, Harry automatically suggests that Niall get flowers before he picks her up.

“Are you serious?” Niall asks, standing in front of their bathroom mirror playing with his hair. “We’re just going for a drink.”

“Still,” Harry tells him, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Bet she’d be impressed, you know? Think you’re a proper gent and all that.”

“I am a gentleman, you twat!”

“Yes, your language speaks volumes. Now come on, I’ll go with you to help you pick something out. The place isn’t far from here and I think they close soon.”

“You’re being weird,” Niall tells him, following him through their apartment. “I’ve been on a dozen dates since we moved in together and you’ve never badgered me about gifts.”

“I like Jasmine,” Harry lies, slipping his boots on. Well, it’s not really a lie, he does like her. She makes his tea perfectly every time and always saves him a caramel scone when they’re running low. “I don’t want to lose my barista because you don’t have any class.”

“It’s funny that you’re giving me dating advice when you haven’t been on one in what, six months?”

“I don’t want to rush into anything, you know that.”

“Don’t know how your dick hasn’t fallen off already,” Niall mutters as they step onto the lift. He smiles politely at the elderly woman already inside but it’s clear she heard his foul language by the glare she sends his way. “Maybe Jas has a friend-“

“No,” Harry interrupts, watching the floor numbers light up as they descend.

“But-“

“No,” Harry repeats, silencing Niall with a look that has him rolling his eyes and sighing in defeat.

It’s not the first time he’s tried to talk Harry into finding someone. They went out every weekend for a month after he and Gwen broke up and Niall had tried his damndest to get Harry to pull but with no such luck. He was done fucking around, wanted something real, someone he could see himself having a future with. Not someone to suck him off in a pub toilet and put a tongue emoji next to her name in his phone.

“This the place?” Niall asks, stopping in front of the shop.

“Yeah,” Harry pulls the door open and lets Niall go first. He isn’t even sure if Stella’s there but he’d been looking for an excuse to stop by and Niall’s date had come at a perfect time.

“Cute,” Niall observes, taking a look around. “My mum would love this place.”

“If it isn’t my favorite uncle.” Harry looks over his shoulder, smiling as Stella walks toward him. She’s dressed casual today, in skinny jeans and an oversized sweater the color of celery, hair thrown up into a topknot. “How’s the family?”

“Good,” Harry tells her, shoving his hands in his front pockets. He can feel Niall watching him, knows Niall knows that hands in his pockets means he’s nervous and then Niall’s introducing himself and Harry’s suddenly thinking this was a terrible idea.

“If I’d known that florists look like you, I’d be buying flowers every day.”

“Niall,” Harry warns but Stella just laughs.

“Thank you. Anything I can help you find?”

“I’ve got meself a date tonight,” Niall informs her, wiggling his eyebrows and sending her into another fit of laughter. “This one here,” he gestures to Harry “insisted that we come to the best florist in the city to get her something special.”

“Best florist, huh?” Stella asks, smiling at Harry.

“I never said that.”

“Ouch.” She puts a hand over her heart, feigning hurt and Harry’s eyes widen.

“No, that’s not…I didn’t mean that you’re not, I’m sure you are, everything always looks so nice in here and Gemma loved the flowers and my mum’s always talking about how creative you are-“

“I’m kidding, Harry, relax.” She gives his hand a gentle squeeze before telling Niall to follow her so they can pick something special out.

“Real smooth,” Niall whispers, following Stella and leaving Harry to pull his foot out of his mouth. Honestly, he’s never had problems with girls before. He has enough confidence to know that people find him attractive and he’s usually very charismatic but something about Stella makes his nerves buzz under his skin and his brain misfire as it sends words to his mouth. He really needs to work on that.

“They smell amazing.” Niall’s leaning his elbows on the counter, watching as she wraps the bouquet in tissue paper and fusses over the ribbon she’s tied around it.

“It’s the eucalyptus,” Stella tells him, fluffing the wrapping and spinning the bouquet in her hands to make sure it’s perfect. “There, what do you think?”

“Looks perfect,” Niall smiles, inspecting the yellow and purple blossoms even though he has no idea what he’s actually looking at. He pulls his wallet out and hands her his credit card, shoving the flowers into Harry’s hands so he can sign the slip and praise Stella for her work. “If all goes well tonight, you’ll be seeing me quite a bit.”

“I look forward to it. Have a good time.”

“I will, thanks. You good to get home by yourself?” he asks Harry, checking his watch.

“Think I can manage. Tell Jas I said hello.”

“Will do.” Niall heads for the door, pushing it open with his free and before shouting “don’t wait up, darling!”

“He’s quite the character.” Harry turns back to Stella, watching as she cleans up the trimmings and tosses everything into the bin behind the counter.

“He’s great,” Harry tells her, leaning a hip against the counter and rubbing a silk petal between his fingers. “Met him my second year at uni and been mates ever since.” Before he can think better of it, he hears himself asking if she has any plans for the night and well, he can’t take it back so he might as well just roll with it. “Want to grab a drink?”

She looks like she’s about to say yes, like she thinks spending her evening in Harry’s company sounds like something she would enjoy but just as she opens her mouth to answer, her smile disappears.

“I’d love to,” she starts “but I’ve got a few errands to run and I’m really tired.”

“Oh, yeah, no that’s fine, no worries.” He pushes away from the counter, brushing his hair out of his face as he straightens up.

“Thanks though.”

“Sure,” he nods, giving her a reassuring smile. “Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe,” she tells him but the sad smile on her face as he walks away makes him think otherwise.

---

“Alright.” Niall plops down on the couch next to Harry, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table even though Harry hates it. “What do I have to do to get you out of this funk?”

“I’m not in a funk.”

“H, you’re watching a documentary on horticulture.”

“It’s interesting!”

“Bullshit.” Niall reaches for the remote, clicking the telly off and turning to face Harry. “So she turned you down one time, big deal. It’s been two weeks and you haven’t gone back. You told her raincheck, right?”

“Yeah but you didn’t see her face, Ni. She looked like she wanted to tell me it wasn’t going to happen but she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. It’s fine, I’m fine, I’m just not going to go back-“

“Alright, up,” Niall orders, pushing to his feet.

“Niall-“

“Don’t Niall me, Harold.”

“That’s not even my name.”

“You’ve done nothing but sit here sulking when you could be out there wooing her.”

“Wooing?”

“Wooing,” Niall nods, hands on his hips. “Honestly H, it’s a bit pathetic. Didn’t think you were a piner.”

“I’m not pining.”

“You’re literally watching a movie about the process of growing plants. Get off your ass and do something.”

---

Stella’s just locking up when his cab pulls up. Harry tosses money over the seat and jumps out, not even sure what he’s planning on saying. But then Stella’s turning around, tucking her keys into her bag. She jumps a bit when she sees him, putting a hand over her heart as she looks up at him and sighs in relief.

“Jesus Harry, you scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“Did you need something?” she asks, pulling her phone out and typing away. Harry doesn’t know who she’s texting but he finds himself feeling a bit jealous over it. “I’m babysitting Freddie tonight,” she tells him, slipping her phone back in her pocket. “Had to close up a bit early. I’m sorry if you were looking to pick something up.”

“No, um, no.” Harry runs a nervous hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at her. “Was just…was gonna see if like, you wanted to go out for a bit but you’ve got plans so.”

They stand in awkward silence for a minute, Harry looking at his boots and Stella looking at Harry. He hears her sigh and his stomach drops. He doesn’t want to be let down.

“Harry-“

“It’s alright,” he assures her, already backing away. He wants to get out before she says she’s not interested. “I shouldn’t have assumed you were free, you know? I mean, you’re great, s’like, why I wanted to hang out but-“

“Harry, that’s not-“

“Stop, its fine. It’s all good.” He knows the words are forced, knows they come out harsher than he meant them to by the way she winces. He apologizes, tells her he’ll see her around. She doesn’t stop him and he doesn’t look back.

---

Summer’s in full swing and Harry can’t even believe how fast time is flying by. Charlie’s growing like a weed, sprouting two teeth at once and finding that she likes the sound of her own voice and shrieks as loud as possible at any given time just to amuse herself.

Harry’s closing in on a year, has just a few short weeks before he’s officially been single (and celibate) for an entire year. Niall is dumbfounded, can’t understand why anyone would want to go without sex for that long and continues to try to get Harry out at night, to find someone to bring home and end the drought.

Harry thinks it might happen the night he lets Niall convince him to go to a housewarming party for a mutual friend of theirs. It’s been forever since he’s gone out, since he’s socialized with people outside of his immediate circle and he finds himself enjoying the party, the people, the booze. He makes his way around the room, stopping here and there to chat someone up he hasn’t seen in a while and meets a few new people as well.

Her name is Claire, the girl that he thinks could be the one. Not like, forever, but maybe for right now. She’s pretty, long blonde hair and pale blue eyes, a nice laugh. She seems interested, which is always good, if the way she’s constantly touching his arm when she talks is any indication. He glances up, makes eye contact with Niall across the room who shoots him a thumbs up, Jas tucked safely into his side. He’s about to zone back in on Claire when he catches a glimpse of dark brown hair and it’s like someone’s punched him in the chest.

“Harry?” Claire puts a hand on his arm, obviously concerned by the way his eyes have widened and his mouth is hanging open as he stares across the room but he pays her no mind. All he sees is Stella. Pretty, smart, vibrant Stella that’s been on his mind for months on end, pressed up against another man with his arm wrapped around her shoulders as they talk to someone Harry’s never seen before.

If he were sober, he’d probably be sad, definitely hurt because she has a boyfriend and didn’t bother telling him. But he’s not sober and he’s not hurt or sad. No, Harry’s fucking pissed.

“H.” Niall grabs his forearm before he can walk over and pulls Harry aside, pushing him out into the hall. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Me?” Harry demands, pointing toward the living room they’d just exited. “Did you not see who’s here?”

“Yes I saw who’s here and I also saw you headed straight for her. What the hell were you going to do?”

“I just wanted to talk to her, Ni. Did you see the guy she’s with? Like, what the fuck? She has a boyfriend?”

“I don’t know-“

“And she’s just over there smiling, having a good old fucking time while I’m constantly wondering why she wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Harry-“ Niall grabs his arm but Harry doesn’t stop.

“I don’t even know why I’m so hung up on her, I don’t even know her but she’s all I think about and it’s so fucking annoying because she wants nothing to do with me.”

“H, she’s-“

“I’m a good guy, Niall. I’m a fucking catch, okay?”

“Jesus Harry, you need to shut-“

“I don’t cheat,” he snaps, pointing a finger in his friend’s face as though he’s accused him of it. “I’m loyal, I’m a good listener, I’ve got a stable job and nice place to live and I’ve got a good relationship with my mum. So why the fuck am I not good enough?”

“I never said you weren’t.”

Harry spins around so fast that Niall has to catch him before he topples over. Stella’s standing behind him, arms hanging at her sides as she stares in what looks to be a combination of terror and confusion. Niall excuses himself, squeezing Harry’s shoulder before slinking back into the living room so they have some privacy.

“I never said you weren’t good enough.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Harry scoffs, pushing his hair out of his face. He’s just on the wrong side of drunk and starting to feel it.

“I wanted to explain,” she tells him, clasping her hands together and twisting the rings around her fingers. “The last time I saw you, I wanted to tell you why I didn’t want to go out with you.”

“Oh good, love to hear about my shortcomings,” he snorts, bringing his beer bottle to his lips and taking a pull. Suddenly he doesn’t feel drunk enough.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you, Harry. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

“Well.” He holds his arms out, smiling in a way that he knows isn’t attractive but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s just tired. “I’m all ears, love.”

Stella watches him for a minute, the way he runs his hands through his hair and looks at anything but her. The way he’s swaying after too many drinks and maybe this isn’t the best time to have this conversation but he looks sad and exhausted and she doesn’t like knowing that she had anything to do with that.

“The week before I met you I broke up with my boyfriend.” Harry’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing as he watches her lean against the wall and cross her ankles. “I won’t bore you with the details, but it wasn’t a bad break-up. I mean, it was amicable, we agreed we’d be better off apart but I was with him for two years. I hadn’t even been considering anyone else when you walked into the shop that morning. But there you were with your stupid curls and your stupid eyes and your stupid dimples and you made me think, Harry, and that scared the shit out of me.”

“Stell-”

“I’m not ready.” He swallows down the lump in his throat, keeps his eyes on hers when she finally looks back up at him. “I’m not ready for anything right this second but that doesn’t mean it’s anything to do with you or that I won’t be ready in the future. I just need time, you know? It’s only been a few months and I’m not looking to jump into something right now, not when I’m just getting back on my feet.”

“Okay.”

“I want to be you friend, Harry. I want to hang out and get to know you and listen to you talk about Charlie because your whole face lights up when you do and I love that. And I don’t know, maybe once we’ve gotten to know each other better I’ll be ready for something else. Not that you have to wait,” she quickly adds. “You can do whatever you want, you know? I don’t need-“

“I’d like to be your friend.” Harry smiles at her, a real smile and it feels nice because it hasn’t been genuine in quite a while. “I’d like to get to know you, to hang out and talk about Charlie and Freddie and whatever else you want to talk about. And I don’t…I’m not looking for someone else. I can wait. I’d like to wait.”

“Okay.” Stella takes a deep breath, pushes away from the wall and closes the distance between them. Harry doesn’t hesitate, just pulls her into his arms and hugs her close enough that he’ll feel it even after she’s gone. “If you change your mind-“

“I won’t,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to her hair. He can feel her relax in his arms and it makes his stomach flutter because this is what he wants, for her to be comfortable with him. And if he has to wait, if there’s even the slightest chance that he has any sort of future with the pretty girl from the flower shop, he’ll wait another year if he has to. She’s worth it.

#fic: waiting game #1dff #harry styles fanfiction

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mousedetective · 7 years

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No More Regrets (23/25)

And here comes the reconciliation between Sherlock and Molly, brief as it is (don’t worry...it’ll continue later).

No More Regrets - Molly Hooper prefers a life limited to her teaching at King’s College, the occasional consult for Scotland Yard and evenings with her cat and a good book, but her best mates think she should expand her horizons. On one of their regular “Let’s get Molly a social life” nights, Molly meets a man who saves her from a sticky situation, but before she can get to know this Sherlock fellow any better she has to leave the pub. She thinks it’s a fleeting “what might have been” moment, but Sherlock has other ideas about that.

Read Chapter 1 @ AO3 | Read Chapter 23 @ AO3 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Send Me A Prompt

Molly stayed the night in Oxford, enjoying both dinner and breakfast with Victor and Aaron before catching an early train back to London. She realized that even though something horrific had happened to Victor, and he still had strong feelings about it, he had a good life. She had not had such an enjoyable evening in a while and ended up leaving with the invitation to come back often and bring Sherlock with her once they reconciled. Victor and Aaron both seemed so sure that they would, and she almost had hope they would be right.

She had arranged for her assistant to administer the tests her classes that day had to take while she headed to the University of London as soon as she arrived, as it was just about time for Sherlock’s office hours to start. Perhaps if she was lucky she could get some time with him to go over what she and Victor had talked about, to show him the information Victor had gathered…

To apologize for going so long without trying to work things out.

She wasn’t sure what she would find as she made her way to his office, but when she knocked on the door and was told to come in, the sight of Sherlock sitting at his desk with a black eye and bandaged hand and stitches on his face was not what she had expected. “What happened?” she asked, forgetting everything she’d planned on the way there and going to his side, reaching forward to touch his face gently under the black eye.

“I may have had a confrontation yesterday,” Sherlock said, wincing slightly.

“Did Moriarty come looking for you?” she asked.

Sherlock got a rather embarrassed look on his face. “I...went looking for him,” he said quietly. “I wanted to tell him to direct his revenge at me and only me and it got...physical.”

Molly shook her head, cupping his cheek. “Oh, Sherlock.”

“You don’t deserve to be dragged into my mess. You have done nothing wrong and your father has done nothing wrong and neither of your reputations should be wrapped up in all of this.” He looked up at her. “And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, do what you wanted me to do.”

Molly shook her head. “We both dealt with this in a way that we shouldn’t have. I should have told you how I felt instead of yelling and giving you the cold treatment.” She hesitated for a moment and then leaned in and kissed him softly. “I’m sorry for that.”

He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, and she snuggled into him as best she could. “I’ve been miserable the last few days,” he said.

“I have too,” she replied. “Though not last night.”

“Oh?” he asked. “I don’t have competition, do I?”

“No,” she said with a small smile. “Victor Trevor had me at his home as his guest. And we talked about how to best deal with Moriarty.”

Sherlock pulled back to look at her. “He approves?”

“Of us? Yes. Of the situation? No. He decided after you told him about me that someone needed to keep you safe. Fortunately, he is going to do just that.” She moved away and reached into her handbag for a flash drive. “I’m going to give this to Stella. It might take a little time, but apparently, the things that James got into in uni? He never stopped. And this is evidence.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “I had never been able to get any evidence that he was still into illegal activities. Neither had my brother.”

“Victor has friends similar to Mary’s friends,” Molly said with a smile. “And they decided it was worth keeping track of the things James is up to. And now it’s time to include the police.”

Sherlock reached for her again and she dropped onto his lap once more. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly.

Molly nodded. “He doesn’t deserve a cushy job as a professor where he can harass me for however long I keep my position. He deserves to be in prison with Moran, rotting until hell freezes over.”

“Then I’ll go with you when you give this to your friend,” Sherlock said.

“How about I invite Stella over for dinner tonight, and you come join us?” she asked.

Sherlock let his fingers play on her thigh. “So I’m welcome at your home again?”

She nodded. “Not just in my home, but...in my bed, too,” she said. “It’s been hell sleeping the last few days.”

“I’m glad,” he said, moving his hand to bring her face closer to his. Just as they were about to kiss, there was a knock at the door. Molly giggled as Sherlock glared. “To be continued?”

She nodded, sliding off his lap. “After dinner, unless you come by earlier.”

“I’ll make sure I’m there as soon as classes are over for the day,” he said.

“Then I’ll suggest Stella come over for a late dinner,” she said, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss as another knock sounded on the door. She pulled away more quickly than she was sure either of them wanted and slipped the flash drive into her handbag, giving him a wave and opening the door to see one of his students there. Things were definitely looking up, and for that, she was grateful.

#Sherlock #sherlolly #mollock #Molly Hooper #sherlock holmes #donation fic #fanfiction #fanfic #my stuff #Multipart: No More Regrets #ladysolitaire #queuel beans

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tauers-go-dutch · 7 years

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Concerts, Beer, and Independence

Dinant, Belgium

Over the past couple of weeks, Mariah and I have been laying low—er , well, laying low compared to the crazy travel we’ve been doing lately—but we’ve still been doing lots of fun things around Amsterdam (and Belgium). I thought I’d share some of our adventures.

Amsterdam has a great music scene, and we’ve been to some awesome concerts. First, we saw Linkin Park, whose Hybrid Theory CD was the first one I purchased way back in middle school. I have to say that though they are climbing in age, they put on a great show with an insane amount of energy. If you haven’t been keeping up with Linkin Park’s music lately, you should. The newer songs are pretty good, and their old hits from middle school still rock today. (Edit: this blog was written before lead singer Chester Bennington’s untimely death. We are sad and feel fortunate to have seen them live before he passed away.) Another middle school band, Sum 41, opened for them, and they actually cover Queen pretty well. Second, we saw Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats in a pretty cool outdoor theater just outside of Amsterdam. While it’s no Red Rocks, it does provide a nice backdrop to listen to some good music. I liked it so much that I bought Miranda Lambert tickets there for August. BTW, Nathaniel Rateliff is great live and worth seeing (don’t forget to check out his concert swag—one of the few non-beer shirts I now own). Third, we saw another country artist, American Young. While Amsterdam apparently has a respectable country following (not all of which are American expats), it has its limits. These guys didn’t pack the house, but we enjoyed the intimate concert on an otherwise sleepy Tuesday night.

Middle-school Mariah was pleased

Linkin Park. Pretty bummed about Chester Bennington.

Nathaniel Rateliff with Brent & Christine

We’ve also been passing the time with some friends, old and new. Our friend Tyler, who is about to return to Denver after spending two years in London, visited Amsterdam for a couple of days with his brother and a couple of friends. We had a great time checking out some of the bars around the city with these guys. Our friends Brent and Christine, who coincidentally moved from Denver to Amsterdam, hosted a Fourth of July party. It was great fun, especially since the majority of guests were not American, which provided a lot of opportunities for tongue-in-cheek jokes and gags. The best attire is a tie between the Dutch man, Jella, sporting the Trump shirt, and the Swedish man, Karl, in the Putin tee. (Yes, they were both worn as jokes.) We may have also introduced ‘shotgunning beers’ to all of the Europeans. Reactions ranged from ‘I gotta try this’ to a not-so-subtle eye-roll. On the actual 4th of July, I made a very American meal—steak and mac’n’cheese (Kraft, of course). It was a delicious reminder of home—thanks for the care packages everyone!

The American gang. See Mariah inserted herself appropriately.

Sparklers on the ‘Make America Great Again’ cake (take that as you will, given the lovely condition of the cake in the photo)

The two coolest guys at the party

Explaining how to ‘shotgun’ a beer

As I mentioned above, taking it easy was a relative term. While we haven’t flown anywhere for a few weeks, we did make a road trip to Belgium. Ok, ok, so it was a weekend trip, but honestly I’ve begun to just consider Belgium part of our backyard. As an aside, if anyone who wants to visit and has Belgium on their list, Brussels is a three-hour bus trip away, and it only costs 35 euro for the round trip. I’m always up for going!

We rented a car for a quick weekend to Belgium, chiefly to acquire some really nice Belgian lambics (sour beers from the region surrounding Brussels) and to visit a few Trappist abbeys. Our first stop, of course, was Cantillon in Brussels. While I normally enjoy staying for a beer or two at the brewery (and by ‘a beer’ I mean a 750mL bottle), we had a lot of stops and I only bought some (ok, several) beers to go. We stopped at a brunch/lunch spot called Peck 20 (sister café Peck 47 is in the city center if you’re visiting). Mariah had the house special (poached eggs and waffles) and I had a surprisingly decent Cuban sandwich. After getting some chocolate for the road, we went to 3 Fonteinen, another lambic brewery. We actually stayed to enjoy a beer (Homage 2013- a specialty lambic blend with raspberries and cherries), and bought more to go. Mariah really enjoys the lambic beers (basically the only type of beer she will drink), so she even bought a shirt.

Favorite Brussels breakfast spot. And yes, we already stopped at our favorite chocolate shop. We needed to break a 20 for the parking meter.

New shirt!

Short on time, we continued our way southeast, deep into the French-speaking region of Belgium and very close to the border. We made it to our destination about an hour before it was closed to visitors, which turned out to be just enough to marvel at the beautiful Abbaye d’Orval. The majority of the abbey is closed to visitors (unless you schedule a spiritual retreat of two to seven days), but you can still see the amazing architecture. The sculpture of Mary and the infant Jesus is as large as it is breathtaking, and is the first thing that you notice arriving to the abbey. The ruins of the old abbey are open to visitors, and are very beautiful as well. After taking in the sites, we stopped at the nearby A l’Ange Gardien café for dinner and Petite Orval, which is a lighter version of the famous Orval beer only available to the public at this café. After dinner, we drove to our hotel just outside the town of Dinant. Dinant, as we found out, is the home of the inventor of the saxophone, and fully embraces that heritage. Several countries from around the globe painted custom saxophone statues to display in the town. I have to say that the Dutch Delft saxophone was one of the more impressive ones!

Abbaye d’Orvale

In the morning, we decided to double back to the French border to visit yet another abbey, Abbaye de Chimay. Chimay has long been one of my favorites—especially the blue-labeled grand cru (go by color if you’re looking for it, as the label name changes but the color indicates the beer). We bought tickets to see a short museum that explains the origins of the brewery and beers, and it included a free beer! We also explored the abbey itself, which included a nice walk through the woods and a peek into the church (mass was in session, so we tried not to disturb the ceremony). We made our way back to the bar and enjoyed our beers. I strongly debated buying a bike jersey, but decided I wouldn’t wear it for at least a year and I already spent an exorbitant amount of money on beer. Regardless, we left and made our way back to the Netherlands, but not without a quick stop back in Dinant for some Neuhaus Belgian chocolate!

Chimay

Crossing the border back into the Netherlands, we decided to make yet another stop at yet another abbey. This time we visited Abdij Koningshoeven, the older and more widely known of the two Trappist abbeys in the Netherlands. Haven’t heard of it? Ask your liquor store for ‘La Trappe,’ and I’m sure they have some. The grounds of this abbey are largely inaccessible to the public, much like Orval. However, they have a large restaurant with a patio and a humongous lawn where you can sprawl out and enjoy some beer. The only downside is that the bartenders often over-pour and allow the beer to spill over on the glass before clearing the excess head with a bar blade (think the Stella Antois commercials). It’s very Dutch and very annoying. But I digress, the abbey is very much worth visiting, and I did pick up a barrel-aged quad from the shop before we made our way back to Amsterdam. We’re still enjoying our European adventures, even when we aren’t jet setting for the weekend.

Tot ziens for now!

#tauersgodutch #Belgium #roadtrip

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thearrangment-phff · 6 years

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XVI. Love

December 2016

Christmas day for Jean, former Grand Duke of Luxembourg, was a success in his eyes. He was surrounded by his five children, twenty-three grandchildren, and eleven great-grandchildren. He had his eldest great-grandchild, 10-year-old Prince Gabriel of Nassau and the youngest was 2-month-old Count Gabriel de Limburg-Stirum alongside with him. Jean knew he was lucky to live this long since his wife Josephine Charlotte had died before he did, and was grateful to hear about the birth of each of his great-grandchildren. He was about to turn 96 in a month and Isabella hoped he lived past a hundred for everyone's sake. The people in her family tended to live long lives. Isabella would probably live well in her nineties like her grandparents Jean and Yolande.

Isabella spent most of Christmas day with 2 of her many godchildren, Archduchess Maria Stella of Austria, and Count Gabriel de Limburg-Stirum. There were babies crying, children running around the castle, and adults with drinks in their hands once the children were put to bed. It was one of the best Christmas day's in Isabella's mind too. Because of the number of people, the children who were old enough were put 4 in a room. Couples were placed in their own rooms, and if they had a young child under 3, then they would go with them. Before the rooms situation was even finished, Isabella and her cousin Alexandra had agreed to share a room for old times' sake.

Isabella and Alexandra, or Belle and Xandra, as they both affectionally called each other, were born a year apart. Despite living in different counties, they remained close. Both had gone to University in the States, Alexandra in Pennsylvania and Isabella in Connecticut. While Alexandra studied psychology and social studies, Isabella had studied Global Affairs and European History. Though now, Isabella was working for the United Nations in Geneva, and Alexandra was obtaining her master's in Dublin. They were of similar character, both even worked in the Americas and the Middle East to help refugees for several summers when they went to University.

Their grandfather would constantly tell them they were twins despite different coloring and facial features. Their grandmother Josephine Charlotte would scold her husband and told him he must be going blind to think the two girls looked the same. Alexandra had more features like her grandmother Josephine-Charlotte and Josephine Charlotte's mother Astrid. Isabella looked more Bourbon and had similar features to her Bourbon-Parma relatives. Isabella, her brother Alexander, and sister Gabriella looked very similar and unique to the rest of their family. They favored their Nassau cousins. Isabella, Gabriella, and Marie Gabrielle could have been triplets in another life.

The night ended for some at 6 in the morning, but Isabella and Alexandra called it a night around 2. As Isabella came out of the bathroom from changing Alexandra asked her a question, "I know you and Prince Harry are together and all, but I was just wondering how it's going? Are you happy?"

"Very much," half-lied Isabella.

“I got tempted and read some of the articles about you. They aren’t very nice I hope you don’t believe them,” spoke Alexandra.

“I don’t read them. Mama sums things up for me. Whether they like me or not and what they think of me. Harry and I will stay together and marry someday despite what they say. I have a family who would more than fight for me should something go wrong.”

“But still. I had my fair share of ugly comments said about me but I can’t imagine it a hundred times worse by thousands of different people. It has to get to you somehow.”

“It doesn’t I can assure you. I don’t read them and I don’t care for them. Nothing is going to change between Harry and me anyhow,” smiled Isabella.

“But it’s more than just you and Harry. We’ll be involved too. They’ll pry us for information and look deep into your past for any bad thing. Harry is going to marry into this family, he will be a part of it, and that means the weddings, the christenings, and the funerals were he’ll meet everyone else. You have it worse because your father is an Archduke,” explained Alexandra.

“Well I know that but will it be such a hard transition for him? He comes the most popular and photographed royal family. He is used to all the photographers and articles. I am the one who will have to adjust to his lifestyle. I’m the one who will have mean articles written about. All about what I wear, how I behave, and when I’m going to give him a child. It’s going to harder for me than him when we marry,” protested Isabella.

“Okay that’s true, but I think we’re just a different family than him. We had a different upbringing. More carefree. Less press and expectations. I just hope the both of you are happy and have a big family. I know how much you want a large family,” smiled Alexandra.

“Thank you. I do want a big family and I can’t wait until that happens. Harry said he only wants two kids but 3 in my minimum so I’ll just have to convince him,” joked Isabella.

"Honestly didn't expect you to be going out with an English prince," admitted Alexandra.

"I didn't either. Harry is a kind man. There's no one better to marry than him."

"Have you talked about it and made plans?" Asked Alexandra.

"Marriage was always the end goal but no real plans. I’m sure mama thought of everything already," answered Isabella but Alexandra got the sense there was more. With a couple of seconds of silence, Isabella stopped what she was doing and looked at her elder cousin, "Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try to will never get someone to... love you as much as you love them?"

"How long as Harry made you feel this way?" Asked Alexandra with more concern than she wanted to give in fear of upsetting Isabella.

"No! No, he doesn't make me feel that way! I'm asking out of curiosity that's all."

"Are you sure?" Asked Alexandra.

Isabella gave her a small smile and a nod, "I'm sure."

Alexandra though for a few seconds and even stumbled starting to talk. It took a few tries but Alexandra thought she had the perfect words, "Sometimes someone won't love you as much as you want them to." Her eyes went wide knowing she shouldn't have said that, "Wait! I mean... I mean. I don't know Belle! I don't know what to tell you and I wish I did. Maybe talk to your sister. She's older she might know more things. I haven't even had a serious boyfriend in years. I'm no help!"

"I don't want to talk to anyone else. I don't want them thinking badly. Kind of like what you did in the beginning. Nothing is wrong with Harry and me, it's just I don't know things all the time."

"Obviously! You've never had a serious boyfriend before," argued Alexandra.

"You say it like it's a bad thing. It's not like I'm some teenage girl, naïve and blinded by love," replied Isabella with a slight eye roll.

"Can we both go to sleep and you can talk about this with someone who's actually been in a long-term relationship or married? Oh! You can talk to Stephanie! I'm sure she can answer your questions and you won't be so embarrassed. She's been with my brother forever."

Isabella thought about it for a second. Stephanie was a warm-hearted person who wouldn't judge her. It helped that she was married to Isabella's cousin Guillaume and Stephanie was also related to Isabella herself as a second cousin once removed as the descendants of Ernest, 10th Prince of Ligne. Despite the relations, Stephanie and Isabella never knew each other growing up. When the relationship between Guillaume and Stephanie came to light, Isabella's father Carl Christian pointed out the relations. Then telling Isabella that when they have children, that child will be both a third cousin and first cousin once removed to her and her siblings.

Since the marriage, Stephanie had been a great friend to Isabella, "Okay I'll talk to her when everyone wakes up for breakfast.

Morning for Alexandra and Isabella wasn't even morning. Anyone under the age of 35 didn't bother to head for breakfast until one in the afternoon. Marie Astrid and Maria Theresa had brought out brunch options and they were gone within seconds. Isabella and several of her younger cousins were in the backyard with Jean and his sons enjoying some different challenges. Although it was mostly the boys trying to prove their strength.

Alexandra and Isabella teased some of their youngest cousins, Paul Louis and Leopold were just 18 and 16 compared to Alexandra and Isabella's 25 and 24. Both boys fought back with insults to their cousin's heights. Which was a considerable difference despite the age.

"Belle! Someone is here to see you!" Yelled Marie Astrid.

Isabella lightly ran to her mother who pointed to the nearest drawing room. With a small nod, Isabella slowly walked into the room wondering who else could be wanting to see her. Once the door was open Isabella was greeted with blonde hair and the smile she would never forget.

Joachim should have been with his family in Belgium, although Belgium to Luxembourg was a short two-hour car ride. He greeted her with a tight hug and kiss on her forehead. In his hands, he had a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand.

"Is that my Christmas present?" Smiled Isabella.

"Of course. I thought we could use this while we talk," replied Joachim.

Isabella didn't want to talk with him because she knew what he was going to say. So, Isabella did what she thought the moment called for. Opened the bottle and took a long swing. She passed the bottle to Joachim with a small smile, "Now we can talk."

Joachim followed suit drinking from the bottle, "I wanted to come and tell you that I shouldn't have told you what to do. Even if I don't like the idea of you and Harry marrying it isn't my place to say no."

"Thank you for the apology. It means more than you think," replied Isabella with a smile as she sat down.

Joachim had joined her on the small seating and offered her the bottle, "In another life, you and I could have been married."

Isabella let out a small laugh before taking another drink, "If we were in the 1800s we would have been. Maybe if it were the early 1900′s too."

"An Archduchess of Austria by birth and an Archduchess of Austria-Este by marriage," joked Joachim as he took the bottle from Isabella.

"Don't forget I would also be a Princess of Belgium as well. You are one of those too," gushed Isabella.

“I’m also a Prince of Modena,” added Joachim.

“I forget about that one. Could you make me become Princess Royal of Hungary and Bohemia? I think I’m just a regular princess for that one.”

"Maybe. Pa would have loved for me to marry dynastically and everyone knows he likes you. Probably would’ve tried and given me a title of my own to add to the long list of the ones I already have. Remember when your grandmother would tell everyone that you and my brother would get married one day," reminisced Joachim.

"I was also in love with you so it didn't matter to me. Then everyone said we were closely related and it would be shamed. It broke my heart to hears those words."

"Mine too. Then I remembered we’re second cousins and your parents were second cousins. Your grandfathers are cousins so I didn’t see anything with us being together. I know things have changed but I wanted to marry you at some point in our lives," explained Joachim.

"I used to think about them. Our children, that is. I would have loved to name them Charles, Albert, Leopold, Charlotte, Astrid, and Zita. They would have our blonde hair and blue eyes. My weird jaw and your weird nose. My grandmother Yolande once said that you and your brother and sisters have the Habsburg genes. She said you all looked like your grandfather Robert. Our children would have been all Habsburg," smiled Isabella.

"Now your children will be all Windsor. German really, but we all know that no one talks about that."

"I guess. Mama says I'm all Bourbon. Alexander, Gabriella, and I are the ones to all look the same. Wenceslas looks you like you and your brother. Where do you think that comes from if Wenceslas doesn’t have Habsburg blood?"

Joachim leaned in close, "Maybe the Belgian blood. The one that runs in both of our blood. Your grandmother doted upon my brother and me. She said we reminded her of her father King Leopold."

"You do look like him. I always knew she had a soft spot for you and your brother. Perhaps it was because she wanted us to marry one day," laughed Isabella.

"Has Harry gotten you a gift?" Asked Joachim as he took a large gulp from the bottle.

"I don't know. I haven't seen or spoken to him in about two weeks. I'm sure he is with his family right now. I'll likely see him within the coming days though I don't think he knows I'm in Luxembourg," answered Isabella.

"If I were him I would never leave your side. If he truly wanted you he would be here right now and not me," smiled Joachim.

"He has a life. He has a duty to his country. He doesn't need to be with me all the time," replied Isabella with a small eye roll.

"He doesn't deserve you," whispered Joachim as he rested his hand on her cheek.

Isabella looked into his eyes, "And who deserves me? Do you deserve my love?"

"No, I don't. There aren’t many people outside your family who deserve your love. Though, I know that I'm the only one who you will love that way," answered Joachim as he removed his hand slowly away from her.

There was a small silence from the both of them and Joachim had looked away from her. Isabella watched him as his breathing got deeper, "We never even said it."

Joachim looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Said what?"

"You know what. We talk about how I loved you but I never it to your face and you never said it either. How do I know what we have is not nostalgia from our childhood when everything was just simpler," answered Isabella.

“Things were much simpler because we were taught if you loved someone enough you marry them. Now things are more complicated. Now I am here with you in Luxembourg while Prince Harry is in London. Hundreds of miles away.”

“Just because he’s in London doesn’t mean anything,” spat Isabella.

“It does. Do you honestly think he will love you? I know you, Belle. I know that you fall hard and never let go. Or else... you wouldn’t still be in love with me.”

“So what? Are you going to make me choose between you two? I’ll tell you right now it won’t be you,” confessed Isabella.

“You don’t mean that,” countered Joachim.

“Maybe I do. Maybe I want to marry Harry. He’s kind. He’s the first person I’ve had feelings for since you!” yelled Isabella. There was a small break of silence, “Just let me have this. Let me believe I can come to love him,” mumbled Isabella.

"Do you want me to say I love you?" Asked Joachim.

"No, but..."

There was nothing to say. Either she couldn't or wouldn't find the words. What would she say to him? That she loved him and didn't want to be married to Harry? But she wanted to marry Harry and see where things could lead. She loved Joachim somehow but they couldn’t be married. If she couldn’t marry the man she loved then she could settle for another.

There were doubts in her mind, but Harry was a kind man. He just wasn't as comfortable with the arrangement as much as she was. That wasn't his fault. At that point, the alcohol had already made her bold. She wouldn’t have said anything to Joachim and tried to defend Harry if she didn’t have some alcohol in her system.

Drinking and Joachim didn’t help her the first time when she confessed the arrangement. Now having Joachim here, made her realize that she would be giving up love. She didn't want to give up her chance to love someone just to please her family.

It was a small war going on in Isabella’s head and the alcohol had done nothing to help. Before Isabella could tell Joachim, the door opened and Harry stood there with Isabella's mother.

#Prince Harry Fanfiction #Prince Harry Fanfic #Royal Fanfic #Royal Fanfiction #Fanfiction #PHFF

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