ScotlandxReader: Thistles and Roses Ch1.1
A/N: This is my first try at writing a reader-insert, but I hope you'll like it. I can't guarantee anything though, since I'm more the drawing-type of artist, but I couldn't just ignore this plot bunny I had. Anyways, enjoy your personal Scotland~ ;D
The names I used in this story are:
Scotland - Iain Kirkland
England - Arthur Kirkland
Republic of Ireland - Seamus Kirkland
Northern Ireland - Connor Kirkland
WARNING: violence and colorful language
You were staring out of the large windows in your classroom, not paying attention to whatever it was your teacher was telling the class. Well, it didn’t matter, since you always passed the exams with good marks. The thought that you should worry a bit more, since it was your last year in school, passed your mind, but you disregarded it as soon as it had come. Finally the bell rang, signalling the end of your last lesson for the day. You stretched your muscles that got sore from all the sitting, before packing away your notes. You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice someone coming up to your desk.
“Hey, (name) want to hang out? I don’t have to work today and I’ve bought the Endgame album from Rise Against. Thought we could check it out together.”
You looked up at your best friend Arthur Kirkland. “Sure, sounds good.”
With a charming grin he replied, “Okay, I’ll come over at 4 then.” At this you let out an exasperated sigh. No, you weren’t going to let him get his way this time. Putting on the best pout you could muster you replied, “Buuut I want to go to your place for once. It’s almost like you want to keep me away from your home at all costs Artie... We’ve known each other for years now and I think it’s pretty unfair that I have to be the host all the time. Nope, I’ve already decided that we’re meeting at your place today.” The Brit paled considerably at your words and tried everything to convince you to change your mind, but you knew that he couldn’t refuse your ultimate weapon – the kicked puppy stare.
Arthur and you were best friends since your first day in high school when you both came to class wearing a shirt with the same band-logo on it. Arthur looked intimidating to most students. He was constantly seen scowling at someone and got into fights easily due to his short temper. The piercings and mostly dark clothes didn’t help the matter either. Besides, nobody really wanted to make an acquaintance with his combat boots, so they stayed away from him, but you actually got to know him better and knew that he was quite the gentleman behind the rough exterior.
After getting home you threw your schoolbag in a random direction, not caring where it landed and changed into your (f/c) hoodie, putting a (colour) bandana around your neck since it was getting colder outside. Looking around your empty apartment you decided to go to Arthur’s place earlier, since you didn’t have anything to do. You were sure he wouldn’t mind. You grabbed your headphones and iPod, before putting on your leather jacket and going out into the chilly autumn noon. The wind caused you to hug your clothes tighter to your body and accelerating your pace. It surprised you that the address your British friend had given you was pretty close to your own. Why didn’t he tell you where he lived sooner?
‘I guess he did mention that his family was rather complicated, but how bad could it actually be?’
15 minutes later you were standing before a rather run down building, that looked like it could be a remnant of the times of the World Wars. Doubts started to form in your mind and you checked the crumpled paper with the address on it one last time before deciding that you were indeed at the right place, so you decided to ring the bell. A few long seconds passed until the door was finally opened. Loud rock music was blasting from behind the man standing at the entrance, but the music was the last thing on your mind right now. At the moment the only thing you registered was the illegally handsome man frowning down at you. His emerald eyes reminded you of Arthur’s, but they seemed to be a darker more mystical shade than your friend’s. It was almost like you were bewitched by this tall stranger and couldn’t bring yourself to tear your (e/c) eyes away from him. The next thing you noticed was his crimson hair that looked as if it was on fire. Was it even possible to naturally have such a hair colour? A cigarette was firmly placed between his pale lips. You were wondering who this man might be when his rough voice yanked you out of your little daydream, effectively breaking the spell you were under.
“Whit dae ye want? We dinnae hae ony money tae pay ye, lass.” You blinked stupidly at him. ‘Huh?... HUUUUUUUH?!’ Your picture of the perfect man was instantly crushed by the rudeness of his words and you huffed.
“Excuse me, but I was wondering if a certain Arthur Kirkland lives here, I guess this is the wrong apartment though.” You turned on your heel to leave, when you heard the man yell something over the music, “Oi, ye British bas git yer sorry ass tae th' door!”
A door was slammed open in the background and a panicked looking Arthur pushed the older man aside. “(Name)! What are you doing here?! I thought we had agreed on meeting in two hours? Wait that git didn’t do anything to you, did he? I swear if you so much as laid a finger on her, I’ll-“
“Arthur calm down, he didn’t do anything to me besides being a jerk.” Your friend glared at the redhead with an intensity you would have never thought he was capable of, as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to his small room. When you walked past the smirking man who had answered the door he stopped Arthur for a moment to whisper something in his ear. You could swear that you had never seen the Brit blush as hard as he did right then, before he kindly told the redhead to ‘piss off’.
“You sure you’re alright, love?” The blonde asked you, worry evident on his features. You smiled a bit at the nick name he had given you around one year ago.
Looking around the room, which was plastered with posters of all his favourite bands, you finally stopped to sit down on the bed. “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry, but who was that?”
Arthur’s frown deepened, “That was one of the reasons why I didn’t want you to come here. Unfortunately, that bloody wanker is my older brother. His name is Iain…“, he sighed while sitting beside you. After a short pause he continued, “(Name) promise me that you’ll stay away from Iain. You shouldn’t concern yourself with guys like him.“
“Really Artie, you’ve got to stop worrying so much, else that frown will be stuck on your pretty face forever.” At your comment the though rocker beside you started to splutter and blush, which in return caused you to laugh lightly at how easy it was to make him nervous, but you continued more seriously after some seconds, “It’s not like I would willingly spend time with a person like him anyway.”
Although you didn’t show it, you were pretty shocked. In your opinion those two were far too different from each other to be siblings and you didn’t just mean this in terms of appearances. After voicing your thoughts aloud, your blond friend explained that they had different fathers. While Iain, his eldest brother, was born in Scotland, having a Scottish father, Arthur was born in England, his father being an Englishman. He also told you that he had three more brothers. One didn’t come home often, because he lived in Wales and his two younger twin brothers, Seamus and Connor, were currently out with some friends.
As Arthur kept talking you suddenly remembered your manners, “Oh, that reminds me, are your parents home? I think it would be kinda impolite of me to not even introduce myself.”
At this your friend dropped his head, his dirty-blond bangs covering his eyes, while he balled his hands into fists, causing his knuckles to turn white in the process. When he replied his voice sounded strained. He was clearly trying to suppress his rage, “There’s no need. We never got to know our fathers and our mother disappeared as soon as Iain turned 16. We haven’t heard of her since then and I’m actually glad it is like that.”
Your voice was caught in your throat. You never knew of your friend’s situation. A fine best friend you were. Should you try to cheer him up or just talk about something else?
Arthur seemed to sense your discomfort and rapidly changed the subject, which you were thankful for at the moment.
“Ah, but speaking of manners, do you want something to drink? I think we only have beer and water at home though…” he trailed off.
“A cold beer would be nice.” You smiled at him sweetly. Yes, a beer sounded really nice at the moment. The Brit instantly left to get you the beverage, leaving you alone with your thoughts. ‘Come to think of it, Arthur never talked about his family before…and I never asked him either, but man, how can he actually be such a nice boy with a difficult past like that? No wonder, he had to get that part-time job back in our freshman-year…’
As soon as he came back, neither of you took up the subject again. You knew that it was something he didn’t want to speak about and you would respect that. After talking a bit about school, you spent the rest of the evening listening to Arthur’s new CD.
It was already dark, when you finally got home. You had completely forgotten to eat something, before you went to Arthur’s place and your stomach was now audibly complaining about that decision. You opened your fridge hoping to find anything edible inside, but it seemed that luck wasn’t on your side, as you kept staring at thin air. Sighing you grabbed you purse and begrudgingly left the warmth of your apartment in order to buy some spaghetti at the 24/7 shop.
There weren’t a lot of people on the streets anymore and you were glad that no shady guy had tried to talk to you on the way, for you see, you didn’t live in the best part of town. The shop was pretty small, but had all ingredients you’d need for your meal. While you were checking your grocery list your body collided with something or rather someone, the impact sending you to the hard floor. Cursing under your breath you rubbed your hurting nose, mumbling a quick apology. Suddenly a pale hand was held in front of your (e/c) eyes. The voice of said hand’s owner was laced with a heavy Scottish accent that you immediately recognized. The man sounded amused, “Sorry, I wasnae lookin'. Are ye a'right? ... Oi, aren't ye th' lassie Arthur hud ower th'day?”
After helping you up, you coldly told whatwashisname? ... ah, yes, Iain that everything was fine. You hadn’t forgotten how bad he had treated you and your best friend just a few hours ago. Everything happened fast after that, your brain was barely able to process what was going on. Just as you were about to turn around and leave to pay for the goods you wanted, a masked and hooded man entered through the shop door. He held a black pistol in his right hand, which he was swinging around nervously. When you saw the weapon you started to panic, cold-sweat forming on your forehead. The man threatened to shoot everybody present, if the clerk wouldn’t hand over the money. The poor boy looked as if he was about to piss his pants. He was way too scared to bring his body too move and the robber grew more impatient with every passing second. Something like this couldn’t happen to you, these kinds of things only happened in TV-Shows. You were at a loss. That’s when the arm of a certain Scot beside you sneaked around your waist and pulled you closer. “Dinnae say or dae anythin' unnecessary. “, he whispered in your ear. You only nodded, his gesture giving you a small feeling of protection, but it seemed that Fortuna decided to be a bitch today and the robber turned around, staring you straight in the eyes and closing the distance between the two of you. “You, you little bitch, get your ass over here and get me the cash or I’ll blow a hole in your pretty face!”
Tears started to form in your eyes. Your body was paralyzed and the weapon was pointed directly at you. You were about to break down, your legs were about to give out beneath you, when you saw something red move rapidly in the direction of the gun. Your mind barely registered that Iain had left your side and was now running toward the robber.
A pained cry.
Suddenly the gun was flying out of the man’s hand and in your general direction. Gathering your last bit of strength, you dashed to get it, your survival instincts instantly kicking in. In the blink of an eye you turned around and pointed the weapon at the robber with shaky hands. Another customer was quick to react as well and got a duct-tape to handcuff the stunned criminal. A few (h/c) strands were obscuring your vision, but you still caught a glimpse of something red on the floor from the corner of your eyes. Slowly you let your eyes move towards the body on the ground. A sticky, red liquid started to coat the dirty tiles.
"NO!" Your (e/c) eyes went wide and the moment you were sure that the robber couldn’t do any more harm you rushed over to kneel beside Iain, who was groaning in pain. A dark stain was forming at his left shoulder, dying his clothes crimson. Quickly you untied your bandana - thanking the heavens that you chose to wear it today - and pressed it to the redheads wound to stop the bleeding. Hot tears were now streaming down your rosy cheeks. He had protected you. He was hurt because of you. He could have died. All because of you!
“Whit are YE cyrin’ aboot, I wis th' one who's git a hole in his shoolder.“ He tried to smirk, but it came out as a pained grimace, more tears forming in your usually bright eyes. Sirens could be heard in the distance. It seemed that someone had already called the police and hopefully an ambulance, but your mind was too focused on the man you were holding in your arms.
There was only one thought in your mind, ‘Please God, if you really exist, don’t let him die!”
A/N: Dun. dun. dun~ So what do you think? should I continue this story or is it total crap?
Oh and I'm sorry, the first chapter turned out so awfully long!