phyllis problems

I’d be lying if i said this wasn’t inspired by @theoanetflix

also I haven’t used any sort of  editing software in, like, four years so this wasn’t as good as it could have been

Preference Series {AU: Aboard the Titanic} Preparations (Your POV)

Okay, Lovelies! I know I said I wasn’t going to post today, but it turns out I will have wifi certain time of the day. So I will be posting today! I also figured out my queue and how it works so…you will have preferences to read tomorrow.

This is the first part to the AU series I was talking about. Please tell me what you think in my ask! Enjoy, Lovelies! I’ll post another preference later, a requested one. I’m still taking requests, so please don’t hesitate to ask!

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 2

Harry: You’re a Nursemaid.


                You let out a sigh, dropping the folded clothes into the suitcase before turning to see your mistress, “Yes, Milady?”

                “Did you pack Andrew’s and Michael’s cases yet? We can’t be late,” she asked, standing outside the doorway to the nursery.

                “Lucas should have put their cases in the car, Milady. I’m just finishing up Caroline’s,” you replied, gesturing towards the opened, but full, suitcase on her bed.

                “Good. The children will be done eating any moment. See to it that they are wearing their outdoor attire before putting them in the carriage,” your mistress ordered before walking further down the hall.

                You turned back to Caroline’s case, which was actually one of seven. Each child had a case for different articles of clothing, including accessories, hats, and shoes. The boys only had six cases, making their packing a little bit easier.

                You had been a nursemaid for the Abbott family for five years now. Mrs. and Mr. Abbott hired you after Caroline’s birth, and according to Andrew, the oldest of the Abbott children, you were the nicest nursemaid they had ever had.

                “I’ve returned, Y/N,” Lucas, the youngest butler, entered the room with his hands folded behind his back.

                “Alright…” you closed the last of Caroline’s luggage. “These seven are Caroline’s.”

                He nodded his head before picking up the smallest four. You followed him downstairs but parted in the foyer. He went out the front door, and you headed into the dining room, where the children sat.

                The two boys, Andrew and Michael sat with their heads down, obediently eating their breakfast while Caroline, the youngest of the three children, sat with her arms crossed and her lips in a pout.

                “Caroline…Why aren’t you eating the food Cook prepared specially for you?” you asked, looking over her shoulder at the untouched plates.

                “I’m not hungry,” she muttered, refusing to look at you.

                “But you must be. You haven’t eaten since yesterday evening.”

                Her stomach let out a growl, informing you that you had been correct in assuming her lack of hunger wasn’t the issue here.

                Her face softened when she heard her stomach’s protest, knowing that her lie was revealed, “I don’t want to go.”

                “I know, Caroline,” you sighed, leaning down next to her chair, “but your Mummy and Daddy are taking you on vacation to New York City! You should be happy…”

                “But I don’t want to leave home,” her lower lip quivered, signaling she was going to cry at any moment.

                “Oh, Caroline,” you put your hand on her back, “don’t cry. We will all have fun on the Titanic, and then once we arrive in New York, we will explore the city.”

                “You promise?”

                “I promise.”

Liam: You’re in Third Class.


                “Oh, how I’ll miss this house…” your six-month pregnant mother whispered, looking around the small room.

                “Mum?” you repeated.

                “Yes, Dear?” she turned to look at you.

                “Where are Edmund and Marie?” you asked, stuffing your nightgown into one of the cases.

                “They should be around the brook,” she replied, walking towards the window above the sink. “There they are.”

                “What are they doing?” you arranged the clothes in the other case you were bringing, making sure you had packed the twins’ night clothes, undergarments, and clothes.

                “Just running around like little ones do,” she replied, absentmindedly putting a hand to her stomach.

                You let out a sigh, “Well, I better call them in soon. We need to make sure we’re on time for the train to Southampton.”

                “Y/N, I know your father has been working so hard to get us over to America, but…I don’t know…should we really go?”

                You looked at your mother, keeping in mind that she was currently in a delicate condition, “What do you mean? Dad paid for our tickets. We’ll be in New York City next Wednesday. What’s wrong?”

                Your mother was about to answer when the door to your tiny cottage hit the wall.

                “Mum! Mum! Mum!” your younger sister yelled while holding up a white wildflower. “Look! I picked this for you!”

                Your mother put her hand on her back, leaning down to take the flower in her delicate hand, “Oh, thank you, Sweetie. It’s beautiful.”

                “Edmund picked you a yellow one, but I thought this one was prettier!” she said excitedly.

                “Aww…you two are too cute,” your mother chuckled, pushing Marie’s hair back with the tips of her fingers. “Where is your brother? Hmm? We have to get going soon.”

                “He’s coming,” she replied, dancing over to you.

                “Hello, Marie,” you smiled at her before lifting her up into your arms. “Are you ready to go see Daddy?”

                “Yes!” she beamed, showing off the gap where her two front teeth were supposed to be.

                “Mum!” your brother ran into the house and up to your mother.

                “Hello, Edmund,” she smiled at him. “Marie told me you picked some flowers for me…”

                “I did!” he exclaimed, holding out a bouquet of purple, yellow, and white wild flowers.

                “They’re so beautiful, Edmund!” she leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you both so much!”

                “You’re welcome!” they both shouted before running out of the house again.

                “What were you going to say earlier, Mum?” you turned to look at her.

                “Oh I was wondering what we’d do if the ship sinks…” she watched her children play.

                “It won’t, Mum,” you said, grabbing a case in each hand. “After all, the Titanic is considered unsinkable.”

Louis: You’re in Second Class.

“Why must you go to New York?” your mother had asked for the fifth time since she woke up this morning.

                “I already told you, Mum,” you sighed, handing your maid, Phyllis, another one of your dresses. “Put this one in the trunk with the rest.”

                “Yes, Milady,” Phyllis replied, taking the dress from you arms.

                “But there are plenty of opportunities here for you to write. Why must you go to America?” she watched you dig through your wardrobe and pull out one of your favorite hats.

                “America is the land of opportunity, Mum, and the biggest publishers are in New York City,” you handed a few hats over to Phyllis.

                “But you don’t need to be an author,” your mother protested.

                “What’s the alternative? Do what my cousin did?” you shook your head with a chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

                “What’s wrong with what your cousin did?” your mother asked. “It’s what I did and many other women your age have done. I wish you would do it, too.”

                “I don’t want to get married yet, Mum,” you handed Phyllis another few dresses to pack in the chest.

                “But what’s wrong with marriage? Your cousin is perfectly happy in the country with her husband. She is taken care of, and she doesn’t have to worry about a thing…”

                “I don’t want a wealthy man to take care of me,” you whispered to yourself, knowing that your mother would have a hernia if she heard.

                “All you have to do is find a rich man to wed,” your mother preached. “It’s that simple, but you’re too much like your father. You would’ve been better off born as a man.”

                “That’s what you think,” you smiled at her, closing your wardrobe, “but I’ll show you, Mum. I’ll show you what an intelligent woman can do if she puts her mind to it.”

                “Is that it, Milady?” Phyllis asked, folding her hands in front of her skirt.

                “Yes,” you nodded at her. “Thank you kindly, Phyllis.”

                “Not a problem, Milady,” she bowed her head before excusing herself from the room.

                “Now, Mum, why don’t you go ready yourself,” you took her by the arm and led her out of your room, “and I’ll go see what father is up to.”

                Your mother huffed, “I swear I had a son,” before walking down the hall to her bedroom.

                You walked towards the staircase and looked around. Seeing that no one was to witness what you were about to do, you picked up your skirts and sat on the banister, sliding your way down with a giggle.

                At the bottom, you composed yourself and set out for your father’s study with a skip in your step. You couldn’t wait for your new journey to start.                                                                                    

Niall: You’re in First Class.

You sat in the window seat, watching the stable boy play with his son in the pasture. They wrestled each other in the grass without a care for their clothing or skin.

                “Y/N? Are you listening?”

                “Hmm?” you looked towards your mother.

                She frowned, “I was telling you that the carriage will be here soon to take us to Southampton. Did Amelia pack all your things?”

                “She did, Mother,” you nodded.

                “Did you make sure she packed that blue dress with the pearls?”

                “Yes, Mother.”

                “And it’s matching slippers?”

                “Yes, Mother.”

                “Good,” her frown disappeared. “I’ll have Gregory and Fredrick bring your cases outside.”

                After that, she finally left you alone, and you took it upon yourself to walk through your childhood home for the last time.

                You were traveling to America with your father and mother. You were to spend most of your time on board being courted by a man your father had chosen for your hand, without your consent, of course. You had never met the man that was to take you as his wife, but your mother promised you that he was worthy of you.

                But this wasn’t what you wanted.

                You didn’t want the rest of your life to be like your childhood. It would only be a matter of time, after arriving in New York City, before you would wed, and then you were condemned to whatever manor he chose for the rest of your life, having his children but never lifting a finger otherwise.

                You had no choice, being the daughter of a British aristocrat. Marriage was a binding contract, not a promise of eternal love.

                As you thought about what was to come, you sighed. In a few hours, you would be on the Titanic, sailing towards the rest of your miserable life.

                “Milady, your mother requests you ready yourself to leave,” your housekeeper’s, Priscilla, voice broke through your thoughts, bringing you back to reality.

                “Alright,” you picked up your skirts and made your way down the stairs. At the bottom, Butler Hans was waiting for you.

                “Thank you, Hans,” you whispered as helped you into your fur coat.

                “Your welcome, Milady.”

                “Y/N!” your mother’s voice echoed throughout the foyer.

                “Yes, Mother?”

                “Are you ready to leave?” she walked towards you in her mink coat and silk gloves.

                You nodded your head, “I am.”

                “Good,” the corners of her mouth curved. “The carriages are here, and your father is already waiting in one.”

                With that, she went outside, bidding her staff goodbye. You followed behind, but not without thanking the people that had been with you all these years.

                “Your welcome, Milady. I wish you a safe and enjoyable journey,” Hans said bowing low.

Zayn: You’re a Stowaway.

                The streets of Southampton, England, were unlike anything you had ever seen before. They were busy with people doing millions of different things.

                Horse-drawn carriages transported the rich while poor peddlers roamed the cobblestone roads, holding their dingy hands out for a shilling or two.

                What were you doing here?

                You had traveled three days by foot from your orphanage in the countryside. Your feet were black and tired, but it had been worth it.

                Soon, people would be boarding the vessel you planned to sneak on, and then all you had to do was hide out. It shouldn’t be too hard, considering the voyage would only take about a week’s time, but you still had to have a plan.

                Your plan involved constant movement and blending in with the third class passengers, which shouldn’t be too hard since you were as poor as most of them. If you just kept your mouth shut and ignored the people around you, you would be home free…in America!

                Yes, you were going to New York City to start a new life because you knew you couldn’t find one here. You were never adopted by any of the couples who had come to visit the orphanage, and now that you were old enough to marry, the director of the orphanage told you that you had to leave.

                It was your second to last night at the orphanage when you had heard a janitor and a maid talking about the “unsinkable ship” that was departing for the Americas on April tenth.

                You took the conversation as a sign of some sorts, considering you had no destination in mind when you were leaving the orphanage. So, three days ago, with a small bag on your shoulder, you left your home, knowing that once you reached Southampton and boarded the Titanic, you were going to be a stowaway.

                You wished you could’ve bought a ticket. “Stowaway” left a bad taste in your mouth, but you didn’t have time to find a job and save the money up. If you had known your new life was waiting for you an ocean away, you would have started saving years ago.

                You made your way farther and farther into the mess of people, avoiding bumping into people as best as you could.

                “Oh, e-excuse me!”

                “Oops!” you stopped, turning to look at the person you had bumped into. “I’m so sorry!”

                When he saw your face, his brown eyes lit up, “It’s okay, Miss. It was my fault for being in the way. Are you a passenger on this ship?”

                “I am.”

                “I wish you a safe journey, then,” he said with a smile before disappearing into the sea of people.