Bandages Chp 1 - Scotland x Reader

Bandages Chp 1 –  Scotland X Reader

You remember the day you first met the Scotsman. It was back several hundred years ago when you accepted an invitation to attend one of Francis’s balls. It was extravagantly breathtaking and most of the countries who were on good or neutral terms with him showed up.

You wandered around taking in all the new sights and sounds until you bumped into Arthur. The Englishman was exceedingly grouchy that evening and thinking that you were someone else, he turned on his heels to give you a piece of his mind. Luckily, he recognized you and stopped himself from spouting off.

“Arthur, you seem a little tense,” you giggled, moving to cover your growing grin.

“Ah, hello (Name), I thought you were one of those imbeciles come to bother me again. I haven’t had a moments rest from them.” He sighed deeply and gave you a halfhearted smile.

“Perhaps it’s because you’re standing about doing nothing?” You raised an eyebrow questioningly, wondering why he was standing there alone in the first place.

“Uhm, yes well,” he cleared his throat. “Then, would you possibly, by chance, maybe like to dance?” He shifted uncomfortably, obviously feeling a little out of place by asking. He had always been one for isolation and when it came to social situations, especially with women, he could be considerably awkward.  Nonetheless you nodded enthusiastically, taking his hands in yours and leading him to the ballroom floor.

It was sweet to dance with him, but after a while, given that you harbored no feelings for him, your attention began to drift. That’s when you noticed two pairs of green eyes staring at the both of you. You didn’t have much time to remember their features since at the same moment you were spun around in the opposite direction, but you were able to note their exotic hair.

Soon, Arthur led you off the floor to get something for you to drink. The dress you wore was constricting and could be straining to dance in for long periods of time, so you waited patiently for him. You turned around when you heard him approach, but he wasn’t unaccompanied.

A man dotted with freckles and ginger hair walked to his left and a man with sharp features and fiery red hair walked to his right. Arthur’s face was that of complete, unrestrained, aggravation and he tried to walk at a faster pace than the two beside him.

He advanced toward you, grabbing your hand and trying to pull you away, only to be stopped by the man to his left grabbing him and seemingly holding him in place.

“Ye should introduce us to yer lady friend Arthur,” the auburn haired one sneered. The other chimed in in agreeance.

“(Name), these are my brothers, Scotland and Ireland. Please excuse their extremely rude manners,” Arthur choked out between gritted teeth.

“Oi! We’re not rude,” the ginger said, giving the Englishman a small pinch. He turned his attention back to you and smiled sweetly. “No need to call me Ireland if you don’t want. Seamus will do just fine.”

That’s when your hand was taken surprisingly by the other man, who you guessed would have to be Scotland, and pulled forward lightly. He bent down in a sweeping motion and kissed it softly, looking up at you through his lashes.

“My name is Alastair.”

You knew his actions were meant to be charming and chivalrous, but you couldn’t help and try to stifle a laugh. You moved your hand out of his and bit you lip, trying to stop the giggle fits you felt coming on.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m (Name).”

Throughout that whole night, the two brothers did what they could to infuriate Arthur, which often meant flirting with you or pulling petty pranks. You enjoyed their shenanigans and found them hilarious. They were all fun and games and you often found yourself cooling down the Englishman who would storm off in fits, which left the duo hooting in glee.

You never expected to see either of them again. A long while after you received a telegram to appear at a meeting. As you strolled in you caught sight of the familiar looking red mane. You and him made eye contact and he flashed you a cheeky grin, moving his way over to you.

Much to Arthur’s disappointment, you and Scotland clicked. First as pals, then as close friends, and recently as lovers. You had never really figured out how you had fallen for the loud-mouthed, hot tempered, red-head, but you did. Hard.

You smiled at the memories, day-dreaming of the past, when the slamming of a door and a strong, out-of-key voice shattered the silence. You broke from your daze, looking around the room wildly. You had forgotten that you were staying up waiting for Alastair.

He had a nasty habit of going to pubs late in the evening and not returning until early in the morning, and on occasion he would show up with a black-and-blue or a bloody nose. You were so worried for him that he swore he would stop. Up until now he made good on that promise, coming home early, not nearly as drunk and in good condition.

Tonight was different though. Tonight he was gone. You panicked and went out searching for him, but couldn’t get anywhere because there was some sort of block party. You turned around and decided to wait patiently at home.

You jumped up from your sitting position on the couch as the Scotsman turned the corner into the living room. His upper brow was bruised and dried blood dribbled out the side of his mouth. He was singing songs, but his words were so slurred and accented you couldn’t make them out, and when he walked forward he seemed to limp.

You rushed to him in anger, hands clenched in fists. You were so baffled that not only was he smashed out of his mind, but seemingly severely hurt.

His hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into a kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like blood and copper and you shoved away, making space between you two.  You inhaled deeply, trying to cool your nerves, and expected to get a whiff of strong alcohol. Instead, you breathed in a fragrant perfume. You weren’t wearing perfume though.

You couldn’t even meet his gaze.

“Why do you smell like a woman?” Your voice trembled in fear and betrayal.

The only noise he could make was a grunt as he attempted to pull you back in. You pushed in return, trying to squirm away from him.

“WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE A WOMAN?! ANSWER ME!”

This time he did answer. It was barely coherent, but you made it out.

“It was the bar maid.”

“The. . . the bar maid? You’re cheating on me with the bar maid?” Tears pricked your eyes and you wanted to crumble into nothing. You loved him for so long, and now he was cheating on you.

“No no no, ye have got it all wrong,” he managed to jumble together. “She fell.”

He made another attempt to bring you into him, but this time rage clouded your judgment. You attacked him, pounding your fists on his chest. His grabbed your wrists, stopping you from hitting him, but you continued to thrash around, wailing in agony. He shouted something, but you couldn’t hear him over yourself.

His grip was too strong and after a while you got tired. You fell to the floor in defeat. You were so disgusted you wanted to throw up. A million reasons why he would have left you flooded your mind, completely deteriorating your self-confidence.

You just sat there crying until he lowered himself in front of you and wrapped his arms around your body. With his face in your neck, he began to rock you back and forth slowly. He hushed you, making your howls turn into hiccups. He moved into your hair and began to whisper “I love you” over and over again.

You wanted to believe that what he said was true, but you just didn’t know if it was.

You didn’t know if anything he said was.