#this isn’t so much about his own recent brush with death (although it’s part of it) it’s about going back to the beginning and processing

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Currently feeling a bit feral over the fact that Natalia means Christmas Day - as in the birth of Jesus Christ and Bucks story is so heavily leaning into the birth death and resurrection of Christ - the saviour - as a central part of his narrative arc. Her presence is literally about the birth of buck - as in processing his grief about why he was born - as a saviour baby.

[pondwatr04]

Who Obeys Who?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

~F!Mc~ Word Count: 4,494

Summary: After Mc’s latest brush with death, Lucifer has placed various rules to ensure her safety. However, the independent human will soon discover that the brothers have become increasingly possessive/protective over her, to the point where she begins to feel suffocated. In the heat of the moment during a particularly bad fight, Mc uses the power of her pacts and accidentally harms the brothers in the process. Anguished over this and the brothers’ behavior, she runs away and seeks a way to break the pacts, for their sake and her own!

Warnings: Mention of death, brief violence, aggressive scenarios.

It was no secret to anyone that the 7 Lords of Devildom were fiercely protective of their little human, however this was something that Mc was still adjusting to. Back in the human world, Mc was never really the center of attention or had particularly protective family/friends, and was quite content with the sense of freedom that came with such a life.

However, as the brothers began to grow closer and closer with her, their desire to guard the new member of their family also swelled. At first, she found this behavior somewhat endearing; it warmed her heart to know that such powerful and feared demons cared so deeply for her, a mere mortal human. With this new sensation of the brothers at her side, Mc felt safe in Devildom, despite the multiple times she had almost lost her life.

That was until she had a particularly bad run in with several lower demons at RAD once a day. Mc had left her classes mid-session to use the restroom, the hallways were silent and empty as everyone was seated in their classrooms. However, when she was making her way back to class, three lower demons jumped out and began attacking her, beating her nearly unconscious.

In between the grunts and deafening blows the demons dealt her, she could hear them shouting something about how she was making the Demon Lords soft, that her presence was ruining their reputation as fearsome, cruel creatures.

However, it was over as soon as it started; the demons left her gasping alone on the cool, tiled floor. Soon after Mammon (who had been in the process of skipping class) discovered her battered body and called his brothers for help. Although Mc hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, she was quickly raced to the nearest hospital and made a swift recovery with the help of Solomon and Simeon’s healing abilities.

In the days after the incident, Mc was feeling suprisingly unscatched, both physically and mentally. Despite how worried sick the brothers were, she was simply happy that the whole ordeal was over and done with, the perpetrators promptly beaten and jailed. However, Lucifer had decided this was not good enough for Mc, or rather, him.

==================================

Mc sat nervously at the dining table in the House of Lamentation, all the chairs filled with their respective brothers. Lucifer had called a “family meeting” earlier that day during RAD classes and had stressed that everyone must be there.

At first Mc hadn’t been too worried about the sudden order, but simply watching Mammon anxiously bounce his leg from next to her with his chin resting gravely on his palm, had her suddenly reconsidering. Everyone instantly perked up as Lucifer cleared his throat from the end of the long table.

“In light of… recent events...,” he begins his gaze sweeping from brother to brother, eventually landing firmly on Mc, making her jump slightly. He pauses for a moment, huffing slightly.

“...I have decided that there is an urgent need for new rules regarding Mc, more specifically on how to ensure she remains safe in her time at Devildom,” he announces.

“What do you mean ‘new rules’,” Mc questions, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Lucifer shoots her a quick glare after being interrupted before continuing.

“I mean that as of today, you cannot be without an escort when leaving the House of Lamentation under any circumstances-,” he says as Mc rises quickly from her chair.

“What?! I need an escort?-'' she exclaims, hands placed definitely on the table before her.

“-That includes walking to and from RAD, walking between class periods, and anywhere else outside of the House of Lamentation,” he continues, ignoring Mc’s sudden outburst.

“That ridiculous, I can handle walking myself perfectly fine-,” Mc shouts.

“You will be required to have your D.D.D on you at all times, and you are not permitted to leave the house after 8pm,” he states coldly, staring down Mc. “All of which are effective for an indefinite amount of time.”

“This isn’t necessary, Lucifer! I know what happened last week, but that doesn’t mean you can just start making me follow all these crazy restrictions!” Mc pleads, desperately looking around the table at the brothers for any semblance of support.

However, they all avoid her gaze, a few of them taking sudden interest in the intricate carvings that adorn the side of the wooden table.

“It is necessary, Mc,” Lucifer says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. “I know that you’re a very independent person, but these rules are for your own safety.”.

“I’m sorry Lucifer, but I won’t allow myself to submit to this-,” Mc begins defiantly.

“-You will follow these rules. This is not something that is up for discussion, Mc!” he bellows, causing everyone at the table to flinch at the sudden aggression.

“And that goes for all of you,” he commands, pointing accusingly at his brothers. “You all are to make sure that she adheres to these rules, you understand?”

They all exchange quick glaces between a fuming Mc and Lucifer’s stern expression. They all nod slowly, reluctantly submitting to Lucifer’s will. Mc flops angrily into her chair, teeth clenched as she festers silently in her own wrath.

As much as she wants to, she simply can’t win against Lucifer, especially not on this one. Seeing that none of the other brothers came to her aid, she decides she has no choice but to swallow her pride. Biting her tongue, she nods slightly along with the brothers.

“Then… that is all that I need to say,” Lucifer says, his composure restored as he rises from his seat. “This meeting is adjourned.”

In the days after Lucifer's declaration, Mc begrudgingly followed each rule. Although she was still fuming, she offered no further protest on the matter, electing to just wait until Lucifer decided these restrictions were no longer necessary.

After a while, Mc began to not be particularly bothered by these rules. Although she valued her occasional moments of solitude, having the brothers escort her from place to place proved to be somewhat enjoyable. Additionally, having her D.D.D on her at all times wasn’t too much of a hassle, and it wasn’t like she had many places to be in Devildom after 8pm.

However, Mc began to feel more concerned with the brothers’ behavior as more and more questionable moments occurred between them. She first took notice of this somewhat alarming shift in behavior when Mc was conversing with a new friend from her Curses and Hexes class; another demon, obviously.

Mc was always eager to make new friends, especially since she rarely had the chance to talk to any demons outside of the seven brothers. Her and this new demon had randomly sparked up a conversation when he had asked her for a spare pencil. He had noticed it had a design on it that originated from a popular movie franchise that he was also interested in, so the duo became engrossed in discussing the topic long into the class period. Even after the bell rang, they continued absentmindedly laughing and chatting with one another.

This caused Beel, who had recently begun waiting for Mc outside of each of her classes to walk her from period to period, to peek his head in the room worriedly. The redhead immediately noticed the lower demon and how he was leaning against Mc’s desk, deep in conversation with his human. Anger quickly sparked in the pit of his abdomen, prompting him to stalk swiftly towards the duo.

He planted a solid hand on Mc’s shoulder. “The bell rang, Mc. Let’s go to your next class,” he grunts, refusing to acknowledge the surprised demon beside him.

“Oh, it's okay Beel. You can go without me, I’ll be leaving after I finish up here in a second,” Mc says cheerfully, waving Beel on without much thought.

In response, his grip tightens every-so slightly on Mc’s shoulder, digging into the fabric of her uniform. “No. I have to go with you Mc,” he says firmly.

“Beel, seriously, it’s okay,” Mc responds in a quizzical tone, eyes flickering between his face and his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll just have my friend here walk me instead. Your class is on the other side of campus anyway, so you’ll be late if you wait for me.”

“I don’t care if I’m late. I’m not going to let you be alone with some other demon, Mc,” he growls.

Both Mc and the lower demon gape at Beel, taken aback by his sudden aggression.

“Beel! Don’t be rude! You don’t need to worry about him, he’s oka-,” Mc exclaims.

“Mc. I’m not leaving you with him,” Beel repeats, this time finally eyeing the fidgeting lower demon sitting across from him. He wilts slightly from Beel’s piercing gaze, feeling as if he’s somehow made a grave mistake by simply talking to Mc. Mc shakes Beel’s hand from her shoulder, rising from her desk to confront him head on.

“Beelzebub. I’m telling you-,” Mc begins before she’s abruptly interrupted by Beel grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the classroom’s exit. Despite her protests, he managed to make it halfway to her next period before Mc finally wrenched herself from his grip. The other demons in the hallway disperse, fleeing to their classrooms after sensing the dangerous arua the Avatar of Gluttony was emitting.

“What the hell Beel?” she pants, rubbing the angry red skin on her wrist. She eyes him, feeling increasingly uneasy; what happened back in the classroom...it was completely out of character for him. He never spoke to her, or anyone in that way, let alone put his hands on her like that.

“Lucifer said you can’t go anywhere by yourself,” he explains, placing a hand on his neck while shame begins to replace the wrath within him.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going by myself. I said that my friend was going to walk me instead,” Mc shoots back.

Beel frowns, “You can’t trust any demon you meet, Mc. You don’t know if you really would be safe with him.”

In the back of her mind, Mc knows he’s half right; she simply didn’t know that demon well enough to confidently say he wouldn’t try something the moment she was alone and vulnerable. However, she wasn’t upset that Beel questioned his integrity anymore, she was upset that he didn’t even take a moment to consider her feelings on the matter. He simply ran off with her without a second thought, completely disregarding her ability to judge a person’s character on her own without him or one of his brothers weighing in with their own cynical opinions.

They stood silently for a moment as Mc stewed in her thoughts, the hallway empty, its air turning stale around them. Before she could give a proper retort, the sound of the school’s bell rang around them, indicating that they were now both late for class. Mc clenched her firsts angrily.

She then turned sharply and stalked to her next period, allowing an uneasy Beel to accompany her from a distance. Once she entered her classroom and slammed the door behind her, Beel began the trek on his own class. When the next period ended, Mc found Belphie waiting outside to escort her in place of Beel.

Despite this concerning event, there was a brief lull in the brothers’ display of possessive behavior; whether that be because they finally realized that they were suffocating Mc with their antics, or because Mc had been more careful about complying to Lucifer’s rules.  However, this moment of peace was soon to be interrupted.

After Asmo accidentally spilled wine on Mc during a visit to Ristorante Six, he had vowed to take her shopping for a whole new outfit, even though it only really stained her blouse. When Levi caught wind of the excursion, he decided to tag along to go window shopping for some newly released Ruri-chan merchandise.

That weekend, the trio made their way to the bustling shopping center at the heart of Devildom; the majority of the day was very lighthearted and served as a much needed break from school and the crushing protectiveness of the brothers. They all spent hours browsing and trying on clothes in Majolish, laughing as Asmo forced Levi to briefly explore his fashion sense with them. After they finally left, Mc and Asmo struggled to carry the various bags filled to the brim with clothes and accessories while Levi happily snapped pictures of the exasperated pair, offering no help as he uploaded the photos to Devilgram.

After some more teasing, Levi finally slid his phone away before reaching to take one of the heavier bags from Mc’s hand. Mc gladly accepts the aid, shifting her weight forward to lean towards his extended hand. However, her shoe briefly caught the raised surface of a slightly out-of-place tile in the pavement, causing her to trip mid-step. Before she could sprawl across the floor below, she collides into a passing demon, falling face first into their chest.

“Hey! Watch it-,” the demon shouts, falling backwards from the force of the impact.

Mc instantly removes herself from the demon. “Ah-, I’m sorry! Are you okay?,” flustered from the embarrassing spectacle she’s caused. She offers a hand to the fallen demon, smiling politely as they glare at her from the floor.

“My apologies, I accidentally tripped, and you just happened to be in front of me...,” she says quickly as they begrudgingly reach to take her hand.

Before their palms can overlap, Levi moves in between the two, slapping the demon’s hand away from Mc’s. Shocked, the demon sharply pulls back his hand, hissing from the insult.

“Levi? What the fuck was that for?” Mc gasped, Levi’s expression startlingly contradicting the joyful demon he was moments ago.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Levi snarls at the demon, shoving Mc behind him despite her protests. “Stay the fuck away from us.”

At a loss for words, Mc desperately looks to Asmo for help. Rather than stepping forward to mitigate the situation as he so often does, Asmo simply moves to pick up the fallen bag and plants himself next to Levi, ignoring Mc’s aghast face.

“Guys, calm down! It was my fault, I was the one who bumped into them!” Mc exclaims, moving in front of the pair with raised hands.

“Yeah, what the hell? It was just an accident-,” the demon begins, moving to return to a standing position. Before they can get themselves completely upright, Levi shoves him to the ground.

“Levi-,” Mc yelped at the sudden display of violence. This time, she places a hand on the two advancing brothers’ chest, glaring at them both.

“If you two don’t knock this shit off right now, I’ll use our pacts to command you to stop,” she warns, hoping the anger in her tone masked the fear she felt creeping its way into the corners of her mind.

Levi clicks his tongue in frustration, reluctantly taking a step away from the terrified demon. Asmo slowly follows, never taking his eyes off them.

“Fine,” Asmo mutters. “But it would be in your best interest to leave, and never show your face around us ever again,” Asmo spat at the demon, his usually pristine face twisted into an irritated grimace.

The demon immediately takes off in the other direction, leaving the trio alone in the street. Before Mc could scold them, they both link their arms around her’s and stomp away.

“That was out-of-fucking line, guys!” Mc exclaims after a moment of stunned silence. The pair flinch a little but continue tugging her back to the House of Lamentation wordlessly.

“That was… that was absolutely ridiculous! It was just a simple mistake, and it was my fault! There was no reason for you guys to blow up on them like that!” she says, whipping her head from side to side in an attempt to read the faces of the two demons.

“Why’re you acting like that demon running into me was some kind of assasinaton attempt?! You guys didn’t used to be this… unreasonable…” she trails off, desperately trying to get Levi or Asmo to meet her eyes. “...What the fuck happened?” she asks the pair.

“I’ll tell you what the fuck happened, Mc,” Levi finally retorts, clenching his teeth as he lifts his head to look at her from behind his violet hair. “You… you were almost killed... not even a month ago. And if you think we’re just going to let something like that happen again then-”.

“But they weren’t trying to kill me!” Mc thundered, shaking with anger. “You both totally overreacted!”

“We can’t be too careful, Mc. I’m sorry we upset you, but I’d rather that than risk you being murdered!” Asmo admits, gripping her arm desperately.

“There was no danger, Asmo!” Mc yells. “Why can’t you two understand that?”

Levi and Asmo exchanged troubled glances.

“Mc, we’re just trying to do what’s best for you…” Levi pleads, Asmo nodding.

“This is what you think is best for me?! Just tearing off with me the moment I interact with any demon aside from you guys?” Mc scoffs, struggling to wrap her mind around the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

The two demons are silent, festering in shame and frustration. They avoid her eyes, struggling to produce a proper retort.

“I decide what is best for me, got it?! Because clearly, you guys have lost all touch with reality!” she continues, beyond caring about softening her insults.

Although the brothers wanted to argue back, they both elected to bite their tongues for the rest of the walk home, hoping that Mc would eventually calm down and come around to their point of view.

However, when they finally arrived home Mc ripped her arms from their grip, storming to her room while Asmo and Levi frantically tried to apologize from behind her wake. She slammed the door in their faces; they knocked the wooden surface as they pleaded for her to let them so they could make it up to her.

After a while of fruitlessly calling to her, they finally gave up, leaving Mc alone to quietly sob in her room. She refused to speak to the pair for a couple days afterward, but eventually gave up on attempting to hold a grudge on the demons she loved so deeply. She tried to drop her guard around them once again, but still couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling that had been clouding her mind ever since that day.

==================================

Although Mc found these instances incredibly peculiar (alarmingly so), she still gave the demon brothers the benefit of the doubt. She understood that they cared for her fiercely, and that this could lead them to act aggressively; but she could not wrap her head around why they were starting to disregard how Mc felt. They had begun to handle her like a delicate piece of artwork; something to be admired from within a protective container, never to be touched by outside hands.

Despite this, she decided that for the time being she would simply grin a bear it all while she gave them a chance to calm themselves, hoping they would all eventually return to their normal selves. However, this was not the case as Mc would soon realize after she had forgotten to walk home with Mammon after classes at RAD.

As per Lucifer’s rules, Mc was to be accompanied by one of the brothers to and from school. After much pestering from Mammon, she agreed to make walking back with him a daily occurrence. The two would meet in the garden at the center of RAD’s campus and make the journey home together, chatting about their day. However, Mc had completely forgotten about this agreement one day.

Mc has a bad habit of becoming lost in thought, forgetting the world around her as she silently listens to music through a pair of tangled earbuds. Mc was often accompanied by at least 1-2 demon brothers at once, so she doesn't often get much time to simply explore her own thoughts without interruption. This, coupled with her bad habit of becoming detached from the present, caused her to simply walk straight to the House of Lamentation without the thought of meeting Mammon even crossing her mind.

She had gotten home before any of the others, and absentmindedly slumped into bed after changing out of her RAD uniform. Lazily rolling over, she reached out to pick up her previously discarded D.D.D and earbuds, music still faintly playing. She clicked on the screen to turn off the music and noticed she had 9 new notifications while her phone was on silent. There were 6 text messages from Mammon, and 4 new missed calls. Mc sat up in bed to read the texts:

“Oi! Where the hell are ya at Mc?” - 19 minutes ago

“Are you coming or not? Did ya forget about me?” - 16 minutes ago

1 missed call.

“Did ya walk home with Asmo instead of me? That hurts my feelings, ya know.” - 15 minutes ago

1 missed call.

“Hey! Respond to my calls… you’re startin’ to worry me”. - 12 minutes ago

"If you’re worried that I’m mad, I’m not! Just text me when ya get home safely, OK?” - 11 minutes ago

2 missed calls.

“That's it! You better call me back right now, or I’m gonna start freakin’ out!” - 6 minutes ago

Mc drags a hand over her face, annoyed by his gross overreaction. Mammon has always been the clingy type, something she had gotten used to and eventually found somewhat endearing. However, this was just too much…

Before she could even begin to return his calls, the door to her room burst open, swinging on its hinges and slamming into the wall with a loud bang. There in the doorway stood Mammon, sweaty, panting, and obviously very distressed. Alongside him stood Satan, Asmo, and Belphie, all looking slightly less disheveled but with equally concerned expressions. As soon as they laid their eyes on her, relief immediately flushed all other emotion from their faces.

“Wha-”, she began, but was swiftly cut off when Mammon leapt towards her to clutch her shoulders.

“What the hell happened Mc?!” he exclaims, shaking her before embracing her firmly. After a tense moment, he quickly peels himself from her form, his flushed face mere inches from her own as he continues his volley of questions.

“I really thought something bad happened to you!” he cries out, silvery eyebrows furrowed. Mc opened her mouth to explain but was interrupted once again.

“-and why didn’t ya answer my calls? I got so worried that I even called Asmo, and when he said that you weren’t with him, I totally freaked!” he says, his eyes wandering to inspect her body; still expecting her to be harmed in some way.

Mc pushes the babbling demon off of her as she explains, “I’m sorry, I had my D.D.D on silent, so I didn’t see any of your texts.”

As Mammon tumbles to the foot of her bed, Asmo quickly takes his place next to her.

“Mc! You can’t do that to us again! We really thought some other demon got to you!” he sobs, wrapping his arms around her , dramatically burying his face in the crook of her neck. Satan turns his back to them to make a call on his D.D.D, presumably to let the others know that Mc is safe and sound at home.

Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, Mc struggles to pry the weeping demon off of her. She looks to Belphie to help as he’s usually the brother that grants her the most freedom in situations like these. Meeting her gaze, Belphie moves forward, his facade of indifference faintly cracking.

“That doesn’t explain why you didn't wait for one of us to walk with you. You know you’re not supposed to go anywhere by yourself, Mc,” he says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to feign exasperation.

Mc glares at him; she half-expected him to be on her side, to scold Mammon and Asmo for their dramatic antics as he so often does.

“I’m sorry guys, I totally forgot to wait. I guess I just got so lost in thought that I didn’t realize I forgot about Mammon,” she admits, chuckling awkwardly at her rather anticlimactic explanation. Satan turns to face them as he places his D.D.D back into his pant pocket, frowning at her words.

“Well, it's a good thing that you at least went straight back to the House of Lamentation, because if we didn’t find you in your room, Lucifer would have asked Diavolo to form a royal search party for you,” he says, his hand cupping his chin thoughtfully.

“What?! A search party?” Mc exclaims, becoming more exasperated by the second. “Isn’t that a bit much? I mean… I was only unaccounted for for less than half an hour, right? Doesn’t that seem like overkill to you?” she questions, attempting to face Satan as Asmo and Mammon fuss over her.

Satan and Belpie, who normally jump at any chance to criticize Lucifer’s decisions, simply shook their heads.

“No, it’s understandable. We can’t afford to give you the benefit of the doubt anymore,” Satan sighs.

“Huh?” Mc says, completely vexed by his explanation.

Satan moves to place a hand on her head, his palm lovingly stroking her hair despite the troubled expression that lingers on his features.

“You better start working on your apology, because Lucifer and the others are on their way back now,” he says, only half-joking. “And from what he told me, Levi and Beel had been tearing up every inch of RAD’s campus looking for any trace of you.”

Before she can argue about the matter any further, the sound of 3 pairs of footsteps thunder against the hallway’s stairs and towards her room. The other brothers burst into her room, followed by another flurry of questions and quick embraces. After a while of explaining and apologizing, Mc finally managed to quell the fears of the brothers.

Later that afternoon, they all sat down to have dinner together, the brothers continuing to fuss over an annoyed Mc. Although this ridiculous incident hadn’t ended in complete disaster (aside from the scolding of a life-time from Lucifer), it still worried Mc. She could understand, to an extent, their protectiveness over her, especially after the most recent attempt on her life. However, she was only unresponsive for less than 30 minutes, and all of them had flown into a panic; it was completely out of character for most of the brothers.

She poked at her food, still sore about the lecturing she had received. Hopefully, this was the last incident for a long while. Little did she know, it would get much worse.

==================================

Thank you for reading part 1! Can you tell this is my first time ever writing fanfic? lmaoo

Let me know if you guys wanna see more, because regardless I plan on making 2-3 more chapters! Comments, suggestions, and reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags: @obey-mes-treasure

[angry-geese]

Alien Blues

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: none! sfw. romantic/platonic(interpretable). mainly fluff. mentions of overworking and death, but nothing graphic. gn!reader

Notes: touch-starved Gojo

Word Count: 2.3k

Gojo doesn't get a lot of downtime in his line of work.

It comes with the job. Sorcerers don't exactly work a 9 to 5. This line of work is far from a normal one. Curses don't exorcise themselves, nor do they pick convenient times to show up. He usually has his hands full; be it taking down curses, or dealing with his students. A guy like him really can't take a vacation.

Despite going to the same school—and being only a year younger than him—you didn't meet Gojo until well into your adult life. After graduating, you went off on your own. The typical way of life for sorcerers wasn’t for you. You really didn't want to work with—or under—any of the major clans. At that point, you just wanted to do your own thing. To hell with the school; you’d be fine on your own. And you were.

You spent much of your time exorcising curses across the world, traveling from place to place, not staying in a single town for very long. A lot of it was freelance work. Such jobs were typically frowned upon, or at least looked at strangely. But it really didn't bother you. On your own you were powerful, and an impressive fighter, but you were working in a world that didn't accept you.

So you said to hell with fitting in.

Doing your own thing was the best decision you’d ever made. To this day you’ll stand by that. The jujutsu world is meant for people like Gojo. It demands so much more from you, and in return gives a whole lot less. It demands perfection from you—maybe even more—while he’s the set standard for this perfection. You hold no ill will towards him for it. He didn't make things this way. But it's hard not to envy him at times.

When you came back to the school, you were first assigned a teaching job.

Although you were a talented sorcerer, it was clear from the beginning you weren't meant to be a teacher. Your teaching style was viewed as a bit harsh, as you tended to just throw your students into a situation and let them figure things out for themselves, correcting them where needed. Overall you weren't a bad teacher, but your students got sent to the infirmary often. And by often, it was nearly every day. You just wanted them to be capable. You wanted your students to be prepared. To be the best of the best. How are they supposed to improve if they don't have experience?

To be fair, your students were some of the best in their grade.

For the most part you substitute if needed.

Upon first meeting, he was too eccentric for your tastes. Really, you found him annoying. Your first impression of Gojo was that he was full of himself and out of touch with the world around him. His first impression of you was that you were stuck up and a bit of a bitch.

There wasn't one thing that changed. Maybe he wore you down to the point where you tolerated him. He likes to think it was because of his charming personality. You know otherwise. His charms rarely work on you; if ever. Over time you found yourself less and less repulsed by him. The two of you bonded over harassing Nanami. On your own you weren't much trouble, but when paired with Gojo, Nanami learned to stay out of your way. If you let him. Usually you tracked him down. Your sweet tooth was just as insatiable as his. When you first took up baking, he was always nearby, wanting a taste. You’d drag him along to see new movies or shows or anything you’d think he’d like. He likes co-existing with you. The two of you don't have to even be doing anything. He can sit for hours with you by his side, doing absolutely nothing.

You've gotten to the point in your relationship where you show up unannounced. It's payback for all the times he’s come to your apartment, claiming he has some work for you, only to stay and raid your fridge, conveniently forgetting what he had to tell you. Yes you have scared the absolute hell out of Megumi on several occasions. In Gojo’s defense, he likes your cooking.

He’s not used to having you stay in one place for so long. You’re not used to it either. It feels strange sticking around Tokyo for so long. You hate feeling trapped more than anything. Maybe that’s why you moved around so much. Maybe you’re getting sentimental the older you get. For the first time in years, you feel truly at home. Gojo is one of your closest—if not your closest—friends, and there’s not much you wouldn't do for him.

You guess this is home. The end of the line, or whatever. You don't see yourself leaving for a while.

It's well after dark by the time he gets home.

The place was empty when you got here. Megumi must be out with friends. He's a strange kid. Strange circumstances lead to strange adults—or almost adults in his case. You try not to judge him too hard. You don't have a whole lot to say on his… situation.

He notices your form curled up on the couch, your face illuminated by your phone screen. The tv plays some horror movie you’ve long stopped paying attention to. Your face lights up when you see him.

His hand briefly touches your head, messing up your hair. He looks tired. There's dark circles under his eyes. He was gone for a while this time.

“I brought takeout,” you say, gesturing to the fridge, “I wasn't sure when you’d get home so I put it in there.”

“Did you eat already?” He asks. He makes a note to pay you back for the food later.

“No, I wanted to wait for you.” You say.

A bit of guilt hits him. You really didn't have to wait for him. You know his habit of being chronically late. He says he’s fashionably late, to which you reason he is never fashionable ever. He actually seemed a bit bothered by that one, which only made you tease him more.

Momentarily he disappears into the kitchen, returning with your food. You have his order memorized. There's only a handful of things he’d get anyway. He’s not a picky eater, and usually gets what you get. Pick one of about three things and he’ll probably eat it.

The food is still good even while cold. Gojo talks about his recent job while you eat. He says it was nothing special. But he called Nanami for backup, so you know that’s a lie. He hardly touches his food. Since when doesn't he want to eat? The guy has a pretty impressive appetite at times. Seriously, he could eat you out of house and home.

“Are you done?” He asks.

You nod.

He clears away the empty takeout containers from in front of you, returning the leftovers to the fridge.

When he returns, he sits next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. The leather is an ugly shade. You’re sure if it weren't for Megumi, he would have bought something much worse. His taste—in everything, really—can be tacky. You make sure he knows this. Always have to keep him on his toes. Nanami is right about some things. You never take Gojo’s side for too long.

“You were gone for a while this time.” You say.

A smug looking grin spreads across his face. It's almost enough to make you roll your eyes and groan. “Sounds like you were worried about me.”

Really, you could worry yourself sick thinking about him. It's hard not to. Everyone has their limits, and you constantly wonder when he’ll hit his. Strongest or not; he’s human after all.

“Of course I worry.” As much as you hate to admit it, you care about him. You won't say it. It feels like bad luck to say it out loud.

He knows. He feels the same way. Over time he’s grown jaded and angry with the way things are. He tries not to worry too much about you. This life isn't an easy one, but you can handle yourself. He knows that. Years on your own have proven you're not only a capable sorcerer, but a talented one. The strongest doesn't need to worry about himself, so much as the people around him.

In a weird way he’s proud of you.

You open your arms, instinctively he goes into them.

You pull his head to your chest. He does little to fight against you. Hell, he practically leans into your touch. You take his glasses, setting them on the table beside you. His eyes close when your hands move to his hair, gently pulling it out of his eyes. He’s not quite sure what to do with his arms. Eventually he settles on resting them at his sides. One snakes around your stomach, coming to rest on the fleshy part of your hip. You're awfully comfortable to lay on, he notes.

Your movements are familiar, and oddly comforting. He makes note of the way your heartbeat suddenly drops off, before picking up in pace. From the smell of your shampoo, to the sound of your breathing. He can only describe it as home.

Lots of people will die in this line of work, but he has faith you’ll always be around. You’re too stubborn to die.

Touch in a sense like this is almost foreign to him. Touch in a non fighting context is just bizarre. He never de-activates infinity long enough to get hit. He's had his fair share of one night stands. Hell, he could have anyone he wants. He’s had everything and anything in between. Men and women across the world either want to be him, or be with him. But this—intimacy like this—is strange. The others get kicked out the morning after. But you’ll always be around. He likes to think he’ll be around for you too.

Maybe he’s more touch starved than he thought.

He’s Satoru-fucking-Gojou, a man like him doesn't get touched starved. He feels a wave of shame at his reaction. His face burns. His pride won't allow him to admit how much he enjoys this.

It's the first time you’ve held him close like this. The action is so oddly intimate and it’s not even in a sexual way. Your movements are familiar. He fits so nicely against your chest, he notes.

He practically purrs in delight as your fingers brush a sensitive spot towards the back of his head—where his neck and shoulders meet—sighing softly. Goosebumps rise along his exposed flesh. You take note of his reaction, and focus on that spot more, dragging your fingers across his skin. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. His eyes close as he leans into the crook of your neck.

"Do you want to watch something different?" You ask.

His heart nearly stops when your hand moves to cup his cheek. His face is warm. He's a wimp when it comes to horror movies. He says they don't scare him. They do. You’ve spent plenty of night sitting next to him, watching his body tense with terror.

He wasn't paying attention to the tv until now. He shakes his head, but his eyes remain fixed on the ground and not the screen.

"This is fine." He says.

"You sure?"

He nods.

He fights sleep as long as possible, but eventually he'll have to give in to it. You’ll be there long after he’s fallen asleep. Maybe even after he wakes up. His head nods, his eyes struggling to stay open. His breaths even out, his chest rising slowly.

You're not really sure what to do once he falls asleep on you. Your position isn't the most comfortable, but you suffer through it so as to not wake him up. If he’s fallen asleep on you, then he definitely needs the rest. He’s a light sleeper anyway. Any movement would be sure to wake him up.

It’s not long after that his body heat—and the sound of his steady breathing—lulls you to sleep.

You wake up to a blanket haphazardly tossed over the two of you. The tv is off. Two glasses of water are set out on the coffee table, condensation collecting on the outside. Megumi must have come home. Gojo's drool collects in a small pool on your collarbone, which is a bit gross. You use the corner of the blanket to wipe it away. It’s a bit odd seeing him so at-peace. It's rare he even lets his guard down. You rest your chin on the top of his head. His hair is soft, and tickles your neck. The sight of him makes your chest swell with affection. The intimacy of it all is enough to overwhelm you. It's been a while since you’ve cared so much about someone.

It's nice having him home.

He stirs, stretching out a bit like a cat. You card a hand through his hair. He grumbles something in response. Probably a weak “what?” Your joints are a bit stiff from staying in the same position for so long.

“Do you want coffee?” You ask.

He sleepily mumbles an answer—one which you don't understand. It's just as legible as the first. His eyes don't even open. You take it to mean he wants to go back to sleep. You pull the blanket up around his shoulders, tucking it under his chin. The sun is still barely up. You’re not in a rush to get up. You don't have anything to do today anyway, work can wait. If Nanami calls, you’ll just ignore him. You could stay in all morning if you wanted.

And you just might.

Come hell or high water, you’re staying on this couch.

In a bit you should get up and start breakfast. Most of the food in the house is for Megumi, but there should be enough to make something small. Pancakes sound nice.

[rocorambles]

Divine (Dogs) Intervention

Pairing: Megumi x Reader

Prompt: Accidental Kiss

Summary: Megumi forms his own views of love

A/N: This is for the Anilysium SFW Collab. Masterlist can be found here!

Megumi sighs in relief, grateful for the peace and quiet the further he treks into the woods surrounding Jujutsu High. As much as he’s become accustomed to Nobara’s snide but clever remarks and Itadori’s silly cheerful ramblings, he cherishes the time he can truly be by himself, one with nature, one with the darkness and shadows curling inside, calling to him.

He takes a careful look around, eyes narrowing as he tries to find any hint of Gojo’s cursed energy lingering anywhere. But deeming himself well and truly alone, he grins, hands coming together and forming a seal, letting his guard down as his divine dogs wag their tails, growling and jumping around him playfully.

Megumi knows the rest of the Zenin clan would sneer and mock him if they saw how he lets the shikigami play, how he pets and coddles them as if they really were just two oversized dogs. But after all the pain and loneliness they’ve caused him, that he’s suffered through, he thinks he’s allowed some indulgences. And if that small relief comes in the form of two black and white furry packages, so be it.

He blames the fact that it’s a rare day without missions or lessons for his carelessness, for the way he doesn’t sense your presence. But fortunately for him, his dogs aren’t nearly as oblivious and his eyes widen in alarm as they cease their scuffle with each other, ears and heads suddenly alert. And suddenly they’re racing off into the distance, deeper and deeper into the forest, and it’s all he can do to keep them within view as he chases after the two excited creatures.

Megumi’s tempted to call their names, order them to stop, but a sense of curiosity and apprehension keeps him quiet and he continues to trail silently, on guard about what exactly has caught their attention. He hones in on the energy surrounding him, expanding his senses, broader and broader…

There.

The presence is so human, so normal, it’s no surprise it had completely slipped underneath Megumi’s radar. He feels his shoulder loosen, only to tense in mortification when he hears a crash and finds his two gigantic dogs pinning you to the ground, panting, licking, and slobbering all over your face as you squeal and flail.

“Off! Get off her!”

Megumi rolls his eyes in fond exasperation as the dogs whine at the harshness of his tone, bouncing back and forth from licking and nudging his hand for head pats to prove he’s not too angry (which he grants them) to giddily nuzzling their noses against your face, sniffing you curiously but barking happily when you get over your initial shock and begin to coo and pet them as you sit up.

You certainly don’t seem like a threat and Megumi allows himself to relax and observe you when he ascertains that you’re just a civilian who’s accidentally found themselves here. He hasn’t met many humans outside of the small circle of jujutsu sorcerers he’s been raised among and he can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia, a sense of what-ifs as he watches you, so carefree, so innocent, so naive as you pet and play with what you think are just two adorable dogs. He wonders if that’s what his life could have been like too if his parents were still around, if he’d never gotten entangled with Gojo, with the Zenin, with jujutsu sorcerers.

But he knows better than to dream, forced too early on to understand how heavy the weight of reality is and he brings himself back to the present. He offers you a hand to help you stand, apologizing for his dogs, although he snorts about how clearly not sorry they are as they continue circling between and around your legs, practically begging for more attention.

“You really shouldn’t be here. These are the school’s private grounds.”

Even Megumi winces at how harsh he sounds and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head as you flinch, frantically apologizing and looking like you’re about to run to be anywhere else but here.

“But if you want to stick around just for today while I’m here, that’s fine…”

He trails off, ducking his face underneath the high collar of his uniform to hide the red flush gracing his visage as you gratefully beam at him, eyes sparkling, smile radiant.

But the dogs boredly circling the two of you and tired of whining for attention are not nearly as enamored with your demeanor as Megumi and suddenly two heavy weights are leaping on Megumi’s back, forcing him to topple forward, bringing you down with him. And as your bodies crash to the ground, your lips meet.

Physical intimacy is not something Megumi has ever had the chance to become closely acquainted with, platonic or romantic. He freezes at how soft yet solid your lips are against his, your scent that wafts around him from your proximity, the warmth of your body beneath his. He’s been privy to quite possibly the world’s most stunning eyes, but as he gazes into yours, so close that it feels like your eyelashes will accidentally entangle, he vaguely thinks that Gojo’s eyes have nothing on yours.

But time isn’t frozen for all and the two of you yelp when wet tongues and furry heads join the two of you, the dogs whining for attention and to be included in what they think is just two human-sized dogs playing with each other. And embarrassed, the two of you gratefully scramble to take life’s easy way out, separating from each other and each grabbing one dog to coddle and distract yourselves with.

However even as adorable as they are, the dogs only partially take your minds off of what just transpired and your face heats as your fingers absentmindedly brush against your lips, remembering the comforting heat pressed against them. Megumi’s not faring much better as he subtly tries to glance at you between pets, ducking his flushed face beneath his collar once again when he accidentally catches you touching your lips, the action making his own lips tingle in pleasant memory.

But it’s more than just the physical, it’s an awakening of sorts. All his life Megumi has been raised with a sense of duty, of responsibility. Romance, love, those are all foreign concepts to him, concepts none of the adults or kids he grew up with, other than Yuta, cared for. And as much as he respects his senpai, he’s not sure if that’s necessarily the kind of love he wants for himself (no disrespect to the Queen of Curses).

He’s not saying this is love, it definitely isn’t...yet. It’s curiosity, attraction, interest at most. But he’s surprised by how much he craves it. He’s grown up associating love with pain, death, and loss. No one told him it could also be so freeing. No one told him how normal it would feel. No one told him that it would be the sprinkle of water and ray of sunlight he needed to help grow the cold bud that lay dormant in him after the loss of his father and Tsumiki.

For once he feels hope, feels like this might truly be a new beginning and as the little plant in his heart finally blossoms, he takes the initiative he’s avoided for so long, letting himself be greedy, letting himself believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s something more for him than exorcising curse after curse.

He asks you about your life, your family, your friends, your interests and then he does what he’s always done best. He listens, finding peace in the cadence and pitch of your voice, feeling his heart flutter as you grow more and more comfortable, becoming more animated as you tell him about your favorite foods, the school subject you struggle with the most, the plans you have coming up for your friend’s birthday. And in return he tells you about the father figure/older brother in his life who has a sweet tooth, the cheerful idiot who lives next to him, and the loud-mouthed female classmate who recently joined Jujutsu High.

But before he can continue on, trying to figure out what to leave out for now and how to sugar coat the rest, his eyes widen in surprise at how dark it’s gotten, how low the sun is in the sky. Quickly catching on to what’s caught his attention when you see him cut off mid-sentence and check the time on his phone, you sheepishly laugh, a hint of disappointment in the sound as you lament on having to part ways with the boy you’ve just met yet who’s somehow nestled a way into your heart.

“I guess I should be going. It’s getting late.”

“I’ll walk you to the train station.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as his tall lean form stands up with yours, a furry dog on either side of you as the four of you make your way out of the forest and down paved sidewalks. The two of you bask in these last moments together, something distressing twisting at your insides when you see the station up ahead, the feeling of finality settling heavily on your shoulders.

There’s already the bitter taste of farewell on Megumi’s tongue as the two of you stand in front of the station entrance, a taste he’s far too familiar with. But before he can utter a word, he’s startled by a bright screen being shoved in his face, eyes blinking in surprise as he stares at the empty contact form in front of him.

“You know...Umm...In case I want to trespass on private property again or if you want to go to that cat cafe I talked about earlier…”

Before you can make a fool of yourself any longer, long slender fingers are plucking the phone from your hands, and relief flows through you as you watch Megumi type his name and number in. There’s an extra bounce in your step when you gleefully take your phone back and he playfully rolls his eyes at the way you mischievously stick your tongue out at him when he lightly warns you not to just waltz onto Jujutsu High property without him as a guide.

And as you board the train, both of you exchanging farewells and even the dogs wagging their tails in their own silent form of goodbye, Megumi smiles down at the new text that appears on his screen, swiftly saving your contact before making his way back to the school.

Maybe he’d have to reconsider his aversion to exploring Tokyo.

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 16 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none a/n: :D hope you guys enjoy!! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​ @crescent-iak​​​ @ncttboo​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​ @jinfizz​ @doyoungyoung​ @ahgayeah0305​ @doyobun​ @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr​ @m1ss-foodi3​ @hcwurld​

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Doyoung looks so pretty like this.

The space between his brows are crinkled in vexation, hair unstyled and brushing against his forehead with his lips pursed while focusing on the task at hand. He’s taken the day off of his internship for this, with approval from your brother, and plus, the way his eyes are sunken and the breakouts on his skin are appearing, it seems like he deserves to chill out for a bit.

But, he seems to refuse to do that, opting that his priority is to take care of you.

Doyoung hasn’t been back to his apartment other than just to grab the necessities—his business casual attire for work, underwear, some lounge clothes, and just things here and there that might be useful. But he hasn’t slept in the comforts of his own bedroom, no, instead he’s been sleeping at your side in your room.

“Would you stop squirming?”

“Well, you could say it’s a bit weird when someone else does it for you.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Be cooperative. I’m trying to make it better.”

You puff your cheeks in agitation, stubborn because you’re not used to this much physical touch, despite the amount of times you’ve slept with Doyoung. There’s something about this that feels more intimate, not like a quick bang for pleasure, but rather he’s doing this because he cares about you.

“Steady. Just a little longer and we’ll be good.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“It has not been twenty minutes.” Doyoung isn’t that same soft boy you met months ago. He’s gotten intrepid, unabashed by any smart or sharp remarks that you throw his way, in fact, he dodges them or bites the bullet before resuming back to having you in his arms. “You think it’s been twenty minutes because you’re preoccupied with nagging about how you don’t like this happening.”

“It’s weird,” you state, tapping your fingers against the wooden frame of your bed as a distraction. You could use a cigarette, but somehow you managed to let a pretty boy like Doyoung convince you to stop. “I don’t like having people this close.”

“I’m literally just replacing your gauze.”

You frown. “It’s… intimate.” Doyoung can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your response as he reaches for a fresh new gauze. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do, I just—”

“You won’t let your own boyfriend touch you like this?” He queries, and you’re starting to find yourself in this position often. He’d say something bold, something that he normally doesn’t do, and it leaves you feeling small like you used to do to him. Oh, how the tables have turned. He calls himself your boyfriend recently, despite not officially making it a label, but you like it. It feels… right, for once, like this is how it’s supposed to be.

“It’s not that,”

“Then you should just let me do this, yeah?” He tosses the old bandage into the trash. “Plus, we’re almost done anyways. Would you like to go on a walk after this? I kind of wanted to talk about something.”

Staying put, you inhale in a deep breath in surrender because you’re curious about what he wants to discuss. He remains focused, wrapping you once again, despite the fact that the staff at your house offers to do it since it’s their job, but Doyoung insists it’s his job as much as theirs.

After pulling your shirt down, he offers a hand, helping you transition over to your wheelchair, one you’ve grown to hate because it makes you feel helpless, and Doyoung takes you down the hall.

“There’s an elevator down the hall.”

“A what?”

“An elevator,” you reiterate, and Doyoung doesn’t move, feet rooted into the ground. “We don’t have many floors because we do have an elevator. Goes here, the lobby, basement, then the wine cellar.”

“There’s a wine cellar under your basement?”

“You don’t have one?” He knows it’s a joke, so he just shakes it off and heads over to the large metal doors. Your personality never showcases your wealth, and although he’s in your beautiful home with staff that fills up the majority of it, he still forgets the money you come from.

Naeun is still gorgeous, despite the bruises on her cheeks and the cuts that are scattered across her face.

She’s wiping her hands, after running them under the water in the sink, soaping up her previously flawless porcelain skin that’s now marked with the aftermath of another fight. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better,” you admit, rolling around the kitchen in your wheelchair. “How are you feeling?”

“Bitchin’,” she states calmly, giving a thankful gaze in Doyoung’s direction when he slides over the first aid kit toward her. “Lover boy been takin’ care of ‘ya?”

“Wish he’d go home and take a break for once, but yeah. Good boy decided he wants to play nurse.”

“Why do you guys talk like I’m not here?”

The two of you shrug, waving him off as Naeun hops onto the granite countertop and begins tending to her own wound. “There’s been another attack,” you glare at her and Naeun only rolls her eyes. “He already knows, don’t act like he’s all innocent to this.” She dabs the remnants of blood on her lip before grabbing the disinfectant wipe. “Johnny’s dead, just so you know.”

“What? Johnny’s dead?”

“Nah, he’s undercover,” she winces at the impact of the alcohol against her open cut. “Fuck.”

You furrow your brows. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Just kidding, he’s dead.”

“Naeun,” you say sternly. She’s playing another game.

“Just kidding. I’m just testing your cognitive skills.” Searching for the neosporin, she gives a quick scoop of the ointment and applies it on. “Seeing if you can still think the same. I have a really bad itch that they’re gonna ask you to come back, love.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in,” you’re pointing to all of your gunshot wounds. “Got a couple holes in my body that are still whistling when the wind blows.” Tilting your head, you’re trying to make out the expression on her face from underneath all that hair. “What’s with that look?”

She jolts her head at you. “What look?”

“You know something.”

“Other than Johnny’s death?”

“Naeun.”

“Alright,” she sighs, leaning back against her arms. You can’t help but notice the twitch in her lip, and it’s not from her cut. “Rumor has it, they’re going to try to initiate you again. This time, maybe not so nicely.”

“Even after I went through all that trouble? In case they’ve forgotten but I literally have holes in my body. I risked my life for the guy and here I am, sitting in a wheelchair, unable to fucking take a piss by myself, and he wants me to hop back on the field again?”

“You know how he is,” Naeun says apologetically, although none of this is her fault. She’s just the middle man, the bearer of bad news, and she’s only doing her job by protecting the Boss but you’re not even directly tied to the group, just simply a contractor. “He sees your capabilities, thinks you’re more than worthy, he wants to keep you. Seeing that you’re standing in front of the bullets, taking one for the team and protecting those who are part of us… it only makes him want you more.”

“But he can’t even wait?” You exasperate, baffled by his abruptness despite the fact you were still going through a recovery period. “I’m not even ready yet.”

“Well, he’ll give you some time—”

“You’re making it sound like it’s soon.”

She looks pained. “It… It is soon. He thinks the sooner you begin training, the better. You’ll be better equipped and—”

“I thought this was supposed to be temporary,” you state, voice firm. “I mentioned prior that this was simply a gig I needed to get by.”

“This was before you caught the mole. Before you put yourself in danger, protecting the members of the organization. You proved yourself more than capable, and he wants that. He wants you. You get the job done. Why do you think we keep coming back and hiring you? Because sometimes, you don’t even need a gun. You have your fucking head and that’s the weapon.”

“Well, I need a break.”

“There is no break.”

“Naeun, I almost died. To be quite frank, I don’t give a fuck what Taeyong says. I’m taking a break.”

The sunset is breathtaking; warm hues over the horizon, shining on the Good Boy’s face and only adding on to the fact that he’s also the golden boy. Seated on the picnic blanket beside you, he’s resting his weight back on his arms, eyes closed, soaking in the sun with a soft smile upon his face, inhaling in deep breaths to soothe his nerves. “This is nice. I’m glad you suggested it.”

You hate that you have to lean against this make-shift seat, back pressed on the trunk of the tree. But it hurts so bad to sit on your own; parts of your torso require you to straighten yourself because any slight bend stings. You desperately miss being able to function on your own—it’s so embarrassing asking your boyfriend to do things for you.

“You good?” He asks, turning over his shoulder to glance at you. “I hear you wincing.”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, adjusting yourself once more. “I’m just… getting comfortable.”

Doyoung sighs, finally picking up on your personality and habits by now, so he slides himself back just a bit and extends his legs. “Come here.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

He pats his lap. “Come here. Lay your head on my lap, and enjoy the sun with me. We can soak in the warmth, and talk about what’s on your mind. Feels like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and not a whole lot of talking.”

Conceding, it takes you a while but with Doyoung’s help, you’re finally laying—there’s less pain in this position, and you’re grateful he suggests it. He brushes your hair out of your face, a soft smile looking down at you that tugs on your heartstrings. “You’re probably thinking a lot.”

“I am,” he admits, pursing his lips. “Have been for a while.”

“Well… will you tell me?” You’d be lying if you said that Doyoung confessing he’s been pondering frequently doesn’t make you nervous. There’s always that possibility of him deciding that maybe this wasn’t for him—that taking care of you, learning you’re a sort of a hitman and part of some shady organization, or that your family owned the company that he worked at wasn’t… what he signed up for.

But that stupid grin doesn’t ever wipe off of his face. “What is it?”

And with a gentle voice, he says with a press of a kiss on the crown of your head, he says these words that have you levitating. “I love you.”

[mysweetestcreature]

Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

Summary: Why can’t two people who are meant for each other get it right?

***

They’re fighting again. All Y/n can do is shut her eyes in the hopes that when she opens them, everything will be okay. But no amount of wishing can drown out the noise. 

“I can’t keep pretending like everything is fine! It’s not. You know it isn’t, Matt,” she hears her mother erupt between sobs. Lately, it’s been the same angry words shouted at one another over and over again. Y/n takes her baby sister, Ava, in her eight-year-old arms. She hugs the baby close. If she can’t block the screaming out, at least she can protect her sister from it.

“Grace, please.” It’s her dad’s voice. She’s never heard him sound so desperate. “What about our family? The girls need you. I need you! You can’t just walk away from us.” 

There’s a sudden silence that follows. At first, Y/n thinks that maybe her parents have reached a resolution. Her dad has always been good at negotiating. It is his job, after all. She’s seen him in action whenever he brings her to work with him. Maybe he’s managed to work that same magic on her mum. She gently lays Ava down on the bed, creating a makeshift barrier of pillows on either side of her, before exiting the room and running down the stairs. 

Before she can reach the bottom, she’s forced to a halt when she sees her daddy slouched over on the last step. His head is buried in his hands, his shoulders are shaking. He’s crying. That’s a sight she’s never seen before. He’d always been the picture of bravery and strength, but now that’s been washed away and replaced with someone who looks broken beyond repair. She doesn’t recognize him.

Where is her mum? She slips past her dad, despite wanting to throw herself in his arms for comfort. Besides his sniffling, the house is quiet. There’s no trace of her mum. It scares her.

“Where’s Mummy?” she asks meekly, turning to her father.

He doesn’t respond, but instead, he brings his hands out of his hair, and stares painfully at the door. Without thinking, she throws it open, the sun’s light momentarily blinding her for a few unhinged seconds. It’s only the screeching of wheels on road that brings her back.

“Mummy!” she cries, running as fast as her short legs can take her. Her eyes begin to swell with tears. The black taxi is still, and she’s just able to stare at her mum through its window. “Mummy, where are you going?” she pleads as she bangs on the door, but her mother doesn’t even flinch. Why won’t she look at me? 

The engine starts up, and the car begins to drive away. Y/n chases after it, crying out for her mum to come back. “Don’t go! Please don’t leave me!” It picks up speed after it turns the corner. She feels herself slowing down, but even then, she refuses to stop. The distance between herself and the car becomes too massive.  

“Mummy, come back!” 

Arms envelop around her, and now she’s running on air. “Let her go,” her dad tells her, and she can feel his own tears against her neck. Her feet stop kicking, it’s like the energy has completely drained from her body. Her mind, however, is still racing. 

***

A few days later, her daddy packs both hers and Ava’s bags, and loads them all into his car. She doesn’t ask questions, and instead busies herself with the fleeting landscape. A part of her had expected all that’s happened to be a part of some elaborate nightmare. But each morning, she wakes up to her parents’ bed left untouched, and her dad asleep on the living room couch. Ava is asleep beside her, and Y/n can’t help but think how lucky her little sister is to be living in ignorance. At three months old, she’s only just learned to hold her head up. Barely. Y/n doesn’t remember anything from that age, and maybe that’s a good thing. Had her parents always been this hostile towards one another? Had her mother done this before? What if she had? Does that mean she’ll eventually come back?

“We’re going to be staying with your grandparents for a while,” she’s taken out of her thoughts when her dad finally speaks up.

“Why?” She catches his eyes in the rearview mirror. They only ever go up to Nan and Gramps’ house during the holidays.

His fingers thump against the steering wheel, and he breathes in deeply as though to say something. It takes a moment before he answers her. “I just...I can’t do this alone.” His voice breaks, even though he tries to pass it off with a cough. “It’ll be good for us,” he says again. “You’ll see.”

When they hit a red light, he turns to look at her. He smiles weakly. No matter how much she wants to believe him, she still yearns for her mummy. It’s become especially hard in the mornings when her hair is knotted from tossing and turning in her sleep, and her dad can’t manage to tame it for the life of him. Her mum would often braid her hair, and like magic, it would remain intact all day. She always loved how gentle and soothing her mum would be as she brushed each strand with such care. That’s not to say that her dad isn’t trying, of course, but it’s just not the same.

***

Her grandparents live in a little town called Holmes Chapel. It’s pretty, she supposes. The buildings are a lot older, and the streets aren’t as busy as they are back home. She sits back and takes a deep breath. Her tummy flips a little when she thinks about how she might never see her old friends again, or her room, or even Mrs. Watson who lives next door (she would babysit Y/n and Ava whenever her mum had to run some errands). 

When she looks out the window again, she sees Nan and Gramps stood on their front porch, smiles reaching their eyes. 

“Where are my babies!” Nan exclaims, her arms stretched out. Her dad says a quick hello before opening up the back door. Y/n hops out, and her legs feel a bit unsteady from having been cramped in the car for all those hours. 

“Hi, Nana,” she greets sadly. Nan’s smile falters slightly, but she doesn’t seem to let it deter her.

The elderly woman bends down to her height and gathers her in her arms. Over Nan’s shoulder, Y/n watches as her dad whispers something in Gramps’ ear. Although she can’t hear it, she can tell by Gramps’ reaction that it can’t have been good. “A bit peaky?” Nan asks, when she finally pulls away. She cups Y/n’s cheeks and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just took the cookies out of the oven, actually. Let’s go check on them before your grandfather gobbles them up.” 

Gramps groans behind them. “It was one time!” 

Nan waves him off, guiding her through the front door with an encouraging push. “Oh, you won’t believe all the colors I bought for you at the crafts store yesterday! I know how much you love to draw,” she says. Her voice drowns out when she hears something fall outside. “Arthur Y/l/n! If you break another one of my pots, I swear to–” It leaves Y/n to wander through the hall on her own. Her grandparents’ house is quaint and orderly and smells vaguely of warm vanilla (probably from the cookies) and jasmine. The walls are covered in framed photographs of her daddy and his older brother through the years, a few of a much younger Nan and Gramps, and finally of Y/n, Ava and all of her cousins. (They live in Nice––her Uncle Brandon married a French woman named Dominique––and only ever seem to come around for Nan and Gramps’ anniversary.) Finally, below her uncle and aunt’s wedding photo, is her parents’. She tries not to stare at it too long.

***

Y/n decides that maybe spending time with her grandparents won’t be so bad. After all, her and Ava don’t have to share a room anymore, which means that she won’t be woken up by her little sister’s 3 am wailing fits. Nan’s done an impressive job decorating on such short notice, too. The walls are still plain white, but at least there are some pretty stickers of butterflies and flowers and a few of Y/n’s favorite cartoon characters. Even the windows are nicely covered with those gel ornaments that she loves to poke. 

It’s all very nice, but she still wonders about when she’ll be able to sleep in her own bed, in her own house, under her own sheets.

“When are we going home?” she asks her dad as he tucks her in for the night. His hands stop in the middle of smoothening out her blanket, his eyes remaining glued to one of its printed ballerinas. 

“To be honest with you, love,” he sighs, “I don’t know if we’ll ever go back...at least not anytime soon.” 

“Oh.” That’s not the answer she wanted to hear. What if her mum does decide to come back? It’s still possible, right? After all, her mummy had always told her how much she loved her. She would scoop Y/n into her arms and twirl her around the room as they both laughed their hearts out. When she was sick, she’d always have her favorite tomato soup and grilled cheese. Every day after school, she’d sit down with her and help her do her homework and then give her an extra cookie if she didn’t complain. 

Then another thought pops into her head. Her mum hadn’t been able to do any of that stuff recently. It had been like living with someone who looked exactly like her mum, but without all the warmth and tenderness that once was. Y/n turns away from her dad and starts to sob silently into her pillow. 

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

The dip in the bed from where her daddy had been finally reinflates. He’s about to wrap his hand around the door before she stops him. She calls out his name, sitting up with her arms around her knees. 

“We’ll be happier here?” 

His shoulders visibly relax, and for the first time in what feels like so long, he offers a sincere smile and nods affirmatively. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his smile until now. There’s something about it that she can’t quite describe, but she feels the safest she’s felt in a while.

***

Her daddy had left for the airport some hours ago. Gramps had offered to bring her along for the ride the night before, but she decided that she would rather not watch him leave. Instead, she pretended to be asleep when he came into her room and kissed her on the forehead. She knows he’ll be back in a few days, but it’s always tough when he has to go. It’s one of the other reasons they needed to move in with her grandparents, her dad has to travel a lot for work.  

As soon as he and Gramps had loaded the car and driven away, she had stepped outside and sat down on the grass. That had been before the sun had totally risen. Now, it’s up high and shining its rays on top of her head. Nan, who had been surprised to see her granddaughter sitting out on the lawn so early in the morning, had asked her if she wanted breakfast, but was told she wasn’t hungry. 

They’ve only been living here for a little over a week. She thought that they would’ve had more time to adjust before her dad had to fly off to wherever it is they’ve sent him. So far, things have been fine...or at least they’ve been as best as they can be. She tries not to think about her mum too much (she’s down to only once or twice a day). It’s a good thing that Nan and Gramps have a million ways to keep her busy.

Today is different, however. She’d had her daddy with her when she felt homesick. Now, she feels alone. 

“Hi,” her head snaps up, and there’s a boy, maybe around her age, standing above her. He has messy brown hair that curls at the ends, his pleasant smile is complete with dimples on either cheek. It’s his eyes, however, that hold her attention. They’re like spearmint, if spearmint is even considered a color. Or maybe they’re the same shade as the stems of her Nan’s petunias. She can’t quite describe it, but she can tell that she likes them. 

“Hi.” 

The boy takes her response as an invitation to sit down beside her. “I’m Harry. Do you want a Freddo?” He pulls out a chocolate frog from his pocket. “My sister always eats chocolate when she’s upset, and she’s a girl, and you’re a girl, and you looked kind of sad, so...” He gives her a lopsided grin.

“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” she says. 

He––Harry––rolls his eyes. “I just told you, my name’s Harry.” He shifts a bit, then points to the house on the left of hers. “That’s my house there.”

“What if I don’t want to believe you?” she challenges, but she’s failing miserably not to grin at how utterly exasperated he’s getting.

With a defeated sigh, Harry shouts towards the house. “Oi, Gem!” It takes only a few seconds for a head to peak out of an upstairs window. 

An older girl, maybe around thirteen looks like she could throttle him. “I’m on the phone, Harry! Bugger off or I swear I’ll––oh, no, no! Not you, Blake.” She disappears back into her room. 

Y/n can’t help but giggle, and Harry turns to her, a triumphant look on his face. “See. Told you.” 

Once again, he offers her the Freddo, but this time, she happily accepts it. They sit in a comfortable silence as she nibbles on the chocolate. 

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him. 

Harry studies her carefully. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Y/l/n your grandparents? Because I’ve been over there loads of times––she babysits me when my mum and Gem are busy––but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

She nods. “Me, my sister and my dad moved in last week.”

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

Her teeth bite down on the inside of her cheek. She looks at him wearily before staring down into her lap. “It’s just us.”

“Oh,” is all he replies. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “My parents are separated too. My dad lives in the city, but I still see him most weekends.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see my mum again,” she frowns.

What he does next startles her, but she’s more surprised at how quickly she relaxes. He wraps an arm around her and brings her closer so she can lean on her shoulder. “Mum says hugs help a lot,” he says sheepishly, she can feel his eyes on her. She nods against him, and it encourages him to continue. “I’m sorry you can’t see your mum, but hey, you can always talk to me! I’ll be your friend.”

It’s her turn to look up. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Y/n decides that she really likes living with her grandparents. Her and Harry are practically inseparable, spending the better part of the day together (and sometimes during the night when they have sleepovers). This means that she hasn’t cried in a long time, and she’s heard her daddy tell her grandparents that things are finally starting to look up. Her daddy looks better than he has been in ages, he doesn’t have that faraway look in his eyes anymore. 

Harry usually comes over after breakfast, or even earlier when he knows Nan will be making French toast just the way he likes it. They play the entire day, a variety of games that range from hopscotch to pretend, to sneaking into Gemma’s room to dig into her stash of sugary treats because the girl has enough Freddo frogs to last her until next Christmas. He even likes to draw with her, even though she knows he rather be outside running around. 

Sometimes Gramps will drive them into town, and they’ll go to the park or the ice cream parlor or their favorite Chinese restaurant. (She learns that she prefers shrimp over pork fried rice). There’s also a bakery that she thinks is the cutest place she’s ever seen. They serve all sorts of pastries and desserts that the owner, Martha, gives them for free when the rest of the customers aren’t looking. Y/n thinks that’s all to do with Harry. She’s eight, and she can already see how charming her best friend is. She’s glad that she has him by her side. He’s made her time here better than she could have ever imagined.

But soon enough, September comes along, and with it, school. Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. While she and Harry will be attending the same school, he’s a year older, which means she might not see him nearly as much as she’d like. 

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see,” he tells her as they walk to school. “And we have breaktime, too. I can introduce you to all my friends, and you can introduce me to all of your new ones!” He sounds far too excited. 

Y/n pulls on his sleeve, and he clumsily stumbles back a bit. “But Harry,” she whines, digging the toe of her shoe into the sidewalk. “What if I don’t make any friends?” 

“You?” he gasps. “You’re like the most awesome person I know! Just be yourself.”

She doesn’t say a word, instead, she drops her head to look anxiously 

“Come on.” He takes her hand in his. “I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need me.” And they walk the rest of the way hand in hand. 

***

Harry drops her off at her classroom before going to find his. He promised he’d walk down with her for lunch, so at least she has that much to look forward to. When he disappears down the hall, she finally lets herself turn around to examine the place she’ll be spending the rest of the year in. 

The desks are all perfectly aligned, with names of her classmates in bold and colorful writing on cards at the very front. She quickly looks for her name and takes a seat. On the board, her teacher’s name is artfully written in the center. Miss Ferguson. She must have been the one who had greeted Y/n at the door a few minutes earlier. 

Y/n’s curiosity gets the best of her, and she starts committing every feature of the room to memory. The pictures of letters and corresponding objects and animals along the top of the blackboard are just like the ones from her old school. From her seat, she can see the playground, and she fantasizes about all the time she and Harry had spent on the monkey bars and hidden in the tube slide. 

“Do you want to trade notebooks?” Y/n turns in her seat in the direction of the voice. Behind her is a girl with blonde pigtails and an adorable gap between her two front teeth. “My mum always forgets that I don’t like purple.”

Y/n stares down at her own notebook, which is pink with white polka dots. “I like purple.” 

The girl grins widely. “Yay! You’re nice, I like you. I’m Penelope,” but as soon as she says it, her nose scrunches up in disgust. “But I hate being called that. So, just call me P or Penny!” Y/n gives a brief introduction, and the two girls trade notebooks. 

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

“Yup,” Y/n confirms, fishing her pencil case out of her backpack. “I moved here at the beginning of the summer.”

“Really? I’ve never lived anywhere besides here before, but when I’m older I want to live in London!” 

“That’s where I’m from,” Y/n says sheepishly. She hasn’t thought much about it, but when she does, she still misses it a fair amount. 

Penny’s hands go to her cheeks as she gapes in astonishment. “That’s so cool! What’s it like? Have you ever met the Queen?”

Y/n giggles. “I don’t even know where the Queen lives!” 

“Ugh, I’ve got so many things to teach you, then.” She and Penny make plans to hang out during breaktime and lunch.

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

When the bell rings for lunch, Miss Ferguson’s class files out of the room in a somewhat straight-file line. Y/n walks behind Penny, her new friend is explaining all the proper ways to curtsy in front of a prince when a hand reaches out and tugs on the back of Y/n’s collar. 

She spins around, ready to thwack the whomever it might be. “I leave you for a few hours and you’ve already forgotten about me?” Harry smirks. 

“You just surprised me, that’s all,” she says. She’s fallen to the back of the line now. Penny stays back too and walks over to the two of them. “Harry, this is Penny! She’s in the same class.” 

Penny’s eyes nearly bug out of her head and her cheeks flush a shade of pink. “Hi-hi,” she stutters. Y/n stares at her for a moment, unsure where this sense of shyness has suddenly come from. She shakes her head, it’s probably just a draft from an open window. 

“Hi, Penny,” Harry returns kindly. He then turns back to Y/n. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria. I’m starving!” 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Penny says, sounding much more like herself. Y/n walks in between them, feeling content. 

***

By the time she’s fifteen, Y/n has all she can ever ask for. Her dad doesn’t travel as much anymore, except for trips to the London office once a month, he’s able to work from Manchester. Ava’s seven now, and therefore able to cause all sorts of mischief. In fact, just last night, she’d eaten the entire leftover cake in the fridge when the rest of the family had gone to bed. She claims it was a ghost, but the frosting smeared across her face told everyone otherwise.

Penny’s practically moved in with them. Things at home aren’t always the best for her. Her mum usually spends the days drinking, the nights clubbing, and the early hours of the morning in some stranger’s bed. As for her dad, Penny doesn’t bring him up much. He decided to reconcile with his wife when Penny was three years old, leaving her and her mother penniless and alone. And well, she hasn’t spoken to him since. 

Finally, there’s Harry. He’s still her funny, sweet, and incredibly cute best friend. He’s sixteen now, far more mature than her. While they still spend loads of time together, he has his friends, and she has hers. Although, he does still come around for breakfast on the weekends––Nan’s French toast is still his most favorite thing on the planet––and they usually spend the rest of the time catching up on homework and watching movies they’ve already seen a million times. She loves how she’s never bored when she’s around him. They could be laying on the grass outside her house (much like they usually do) for hours, talking about nothing and everything, and still never run out of things to talk about. 

Except in the last few months. The thing is, Harry’s got himself a girlfriend, Lia, and she doesn’t like Y/n. There’s no logical explanation as to why, but whenever Y/n tries to talk to Harry at school, Lia slips her arms around him, like she’s claiming what’s hers, and glares at her until she has no choice but to retreat. She doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry that his first serious girlfriend is a total bitch, no matter how much she wants to. 

It’s a Friday night, Penny is staying over. She’s lazily flipping through last month’s edition of Vogue on Y/n’s desk. 

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks. 

“We’re fifteen. It’s not like there’s been much opportunity,” Y/n chuckles. She glances up momentarily from her sketchbook. If there’s a punchline, it never comes. She then gives her a look. “Why, have you?”

Penny shrugs. “Sometimes I think I am, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d never see me like that.” 

Y/n doesn’t respond to this. She’s heard stories about the boy Penny’s apparently fancied for ages now, but for some reason her friend refuses to give her a name. If she had to guess, it’s probably Bobby Baker from her French class. They dated for a few months when they were fourteen, but things had ended abruptly. Sometimes she’ll see them talking between classes and while in line for lunch. Her money’s definitely on Bobby.

Not wanting to press her for details, however, Y/n changes the topic. “Harry’s probably in love with Lia. I saw them snogging at the bust stop this morning.”

Penny groans. “They’re so gross!” she pretends to gag. “Oh, Harry. You’re so handsome! Kiss me before our lips dry out! Oh, Lia, you’re so pretty. Take this flower as a sign of my undying affections!” She imitates them, doing it so flawlessly. 

They share a look, and suddenly, they’re balled over in fits of laughter.

“How do they even breathe?” Y/n wheezes into her pillow. It’s not to say that she hasn’t kissed a boy before. It’s just never been as intense––or as nauseating––as that. Besides, none of her boyfriends have last long enough. Harry says that it’s all for the best, according to him, none of them are good enough for her. 

“They’re twos, you’re a total ten,” he had said to her once. She pretended not to feel her heart leap at the compliment. “A ten can’t go any lower than maybe a seven.” She wanted to say that she thought he was a ten, too, but was too embarrassed to say it.

***

Penny leaves early the next morning, but first helping herself to some of the food Nan had just prepared before zipping out the door. She leaves Y/n half asleep and barely functional.

“So, what’s the gossip?” Nan teases her, pouring her a cup of tea. 

“Same old, same old,” she yawns. She breathes in the steam from her mug and smiles. 

Nan places a plate of French toast in front of her. “Talking about the same old things until three in the morning? If only your grandfather and I could stay up that late. Of course, we’d be doing other things that decidedly aren’t–” she pauses, and Y/n’s never been more thankful. They both turn towards the back door. “Ah, and I was just beginning to worry.” 

Harry mutters a sleepy good morning, then stumbles into the seat beside Y/n. He looks at her breakfast, then looks at her. As if they can communicate silently, Y/n pushes her plate towards him. 

“Harry, dear,” Nan starts, making up a new plate for her granddaughter. “How does your mum feel about you spending so much time here?” 

“She’s fine with it,” he says, mouth full of bread. “As long as I bring her back some food, she says I can spend as much time here as I want.” 

Nan just rolls her eyes. “Will that be banana or blueberry then?”

“Hmm...” Harry pretends to mull over the options, but Nan knows better. Y/n watches with amusement as she places both bananas and blueberries on top of the French toast, then places it on a disposable plate and wraps it with tinfoil. 

She turns to them. “I’m just going to pop next door and give this to Anne.” Just before she can slide the door open, she calls one last remark over her shoulder. “Try not to burn the house down. We just had the floors waxed.” 

Y/n continues to sip on her tea, and Harry hums happily around another delectable bite. They sit in comfortable silence. 

“I feel like we haven’t talked in a while,” he says. He looks at her curiously. “Why is that?”

She has to bite her lip in order to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret. “Well, you know. I’ve been really busy lately.” From the corner of her eye, she can see how one of his brows shoot straight up.

“Busy with?”

“You know there’s an art show happening soon. I’ve been spending all my time in the art room.” She knows she isn’t convincing anyone, let alone him. He can read her like a book.

But if Harry is thinking she’s lying, then he doesn’t say anything. “Right,” he says aloofly. Taking another bite of his––her––breakfast, he continues. “Lia’s going to have a few pieces on display.”

This catches her off guard. “Lia’s into art? Since when?” 

He gives her a noncommitted grunt. “It’s news to me too.” He takes her mug from her hands and takes a sip. “But she seemed really interested when I mentioned you were participating.”

“Huh.” She rests her chin on her fist. That’s strange. She’s never seen Lia Hall set foot anywhere near the art room. Lia’s a cheerleader and spends most of her time cheering on the school’s football team, which is how she and Harry got together. Y/n would know if they shared any common interests. At least that way, she could talk to Harry without her grumbling bloody murder under her breath. 

“What is it?” his question pulls her out of thought. She plasters a smile on her face and says it’s nothing. 

***

Her bedroom window is right across from his, and they’ve been using it to their advantage since they were kids. When they both had bedtimes that were too early to ever enjoy the night, they would look out their window and find the other looking right back. They’d spend the night trying to make the other laugh with funny faces and their own little game of charades. 

But as Y/n looks up from her half-finished essay and through the glass, she doesn’t need elaborate hand motions to know that Harry is pissed. She wonders if he realizes where he’s standing or maybe he just doesn’t care right now. He looks like he’s trying to stay calm, but Y/n knows him better than that. While he isn’t one to yell, his voice does get tight when he’s trying hard not to. 

He runs a hand through his brown locks in frustration. She feels guilty for not having the strength to turn away, but she’s just too curious for her own good. If only she could read his lips just to get an idea as to why he’s so upset, but alas, that’s never been her talent. She waits, occasionally working on her essay (occasionally), then lifting her head back up to check up on him. 

When she looks up after a stroke of genius that had promoted words to pour out onto the page, he’s gone. Her shoulders drop in disappointment. Oh, well. At least all she has to do now is proofread. 

“Did you know your nan is making pot pie for dinner?” 

She swivels in her chair, her eyebrow tilting up. “I did.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?” he pretends to be hurt as he falls onto her bed. “I’m wounded you would choose to withhold such valuable information from me.”

“I’m sorry?” she chuckles. Closing her laptop, she sits on the floor right beside where his head falls of the side of the bed. 

He turns to her, his upside-down face grinning pompously at her. “Eh, you know I can never stay mad at you.” She thumps his forehead with another laugh, but he only continues to smile.

*** 

Y/n’s always loved art and how it can imitate life in the way the artist chooses. Ever since she can remember, she’s been doodling landscapes and portraits on napkins or just about any plain surface she can get her hands on. She thinks she gets it from her mum. There’s not much she can remember about her, but she does recall her mother’s love for the fine arts. And as much as she tries not to think about her, she’s happy she knows where she gets it from. 

Mrs. Cuomo, the art teacher, says she has a gift, and Y/n tries not to let it get to her head, but she can’t help it! She’s already taken to looking for art programs around England. If she wouldn’t miss her family too much, she’d consider going abroad. 

“Paris seems fabulous, don’t you think? I mean, they have some of the best fashion schools in the world.” Penny muses as they walk around the gallery. “French boys are a plus.”

“Is that where you want to go after college?” 

“Possibly. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to afford it, though.” 

Y/n nods, understanding her friend’s situation.

They continue to browse all the art on display, until stopping at Y/n’s exhibit. She has three paintings. The one on the left is an abstract portrait of Ava that she’d been working on since the last art show. It was inspired by her little sister’s fifth birthday. Dad had bought her the cutest little periwinkle dress with a grey ribbon around the waist. It’s something Y/n would’ve been over the moon for at that age. But Ava being the little rebel she was (and still is) had gotten it all dirty. Right before her party, she came trudging back into the house, a complete mess from head to toe. Y/n’s entitled the portrait Muddy Princess. On the right is a landscape of a forest with the simple name Serene Acres. Finally, the one in the middle is a sideview of a boy laying in the grass. His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed. He looks relaxed, like he’s never had a trouble in the world. As do all her paintings, this one had started off as a mere sketch born from a vision that she suddenly had just as she had woken up. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it anything more than that. But the longer she spent refining it, she just knew she had to take it all the way. There’s something comforting about him. This one in particular is Y/n’s absolute favorite. 

“Oh, you’re totally going to win this year,” Penny enthuses. “I’m not saying this because you’re my best friend and I’d literally give you a kidney, but seriously. You’re golden.” 

“I hope you’re right,” she says nervously. “Mrs. Cuomo said that the judges are going to be a lot more critical this year. I just hope they like my stuff.” 

Penny waves her off, as if she were talking nonsense. “They will.”

“Will what?” A pair of familiar hands land on her waist, and she can’t help but smile when sees him gasp at the wall in front of her. “Woah,” he’s speechless. She pats his arm as she steps away from him, afraid that his girlfriend might catch sight of them. 

“You like them?” she smiles. He nods, still unable to speak. 

“So, where’s Lia’s display?” Penny asks, but Y/n can sense the annoyance in her voice. She knows all about the girl’s hatred of Y/n.

Harry stares blankly, until finally registering the question. “Oh...um. She decided not to enter, after all.” He wraps an arm Y/n once again, and this time, Y/n doesn’t bother pushing him off.

“That seems sudden,” she says.

“Well...” Harry looks left and right, like he’s making sure no one will hear them. “I guess she realized that she didn’t stand a chance.”

This makes Penny snort. “Are we talking about the same girl here? Lia Hall does not back down. From anything. I’ve seen her at the mall fighting over jeans with University kids. She’s scary as hell.”

***

She’s laying on the grass on her front lawn when Harry comes outside and joins her. His body is oriented in the opposite direction so that their eyes are aligned if they were to face each other. He doesn’t say anything more than a hello. His hands are placed on his stomach and his nose wriggles when a cool breeze brushes past. 

“Lia and I broke up,” he suddenly says, but his voice is even and calm. 

“I’m sorry.”

He laughs loudly. “No, you’re not.” He glances at her before facing back up. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that you two don’t get along.”

“At least I know you’re not dense.” She bites back a smile. Why is she so elated with the news? Does that make her a bad person? Who’s to say? “She was pretty awful.”

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

Silence washes over them. If she were any more relaxed, she’s sure she could fall asleep right here, next to him. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

“The clouds, Harry. Aren’t they beautiful?” She giggles when he squints at the grey canvas above them. 

“There are no clouds,” he says flatly. He turns his head, their eyes lock.

She swallows, and she’s the first to turn away. With a content sigh, she lets her eyes droop closed. Even without looking, she can feel the way his gaze lingers, like he might be waiting for something more. “You too,” it’s a gentle request, possibly an order. He’s never been able to deny her anything. 

“Alright then,” there’s an amused tone to his voice now. He breathes deeply, his own eyes closing as the air leaves his chest. 

They lay motionless for a comfortable few minutes. Things are quiet between them, and only nature’s melody that plays uninterrupted. 

The wind whistles, and the leaves on the trees dance along with crisp and breezy movements. As the air––which smells strongly of fall’s fiery allure––rubs against her skin and tickles the tip of her nose, another blissful smile leaves a pattern across her lips.

“What do you see?” she asks.

“Not much, honestly. My eyes are closed.” 

She punches his arm. “Don’t be an arse.”

He groans out in pain. “Fine then,” he concedes. “What do you see?”

The image is vivid in her head. “Purple clouds.”

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

She huffs in annoyance. “Not everything needs changing, you know.” He doesn’t challenge it.

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part. 

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?” 

“Because,” she starts in her best ‘you better listen to me or else’ tone. “Orange is a meh kind of color. But tangerine? It’s a bit more exciting.”

“Exciting,” he repeats slowly, as though he were testing the weight of the word on his tongue. 

When she opens her eyes, fully expecting him to be looking at her as though she had two heads, she’s surprised to see that his are still closed. She finds herself studying him. The way his chest steadily rises and falls with each even breath. He looks as calm as she feels at that moment. It’s then she can appreciate just how handsome he really is. Of course, she’s known it for a while (but she’d never tell him that).

So, she turns her head back towards the grey-washed sky and paints over its gloom with an image of their own. 

***

Right before he starts Year 13, Harry’s dad, Des, moves to Boston. Harry tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but Y/n knows that he misses him a lot. Even though his parents have been separated for a long time, he’d at least had a good relationship with both of them. He and his dad would do “manly” things like fishing and batting at the cages. He keeps telling her that he’s fine, and it’s not like he’ll never visit him, but she can sense that something is troubling him. 

It takes a bit of finesse to get him to talk, and once he does, she immediately regrets it. 

“He wants me to follow him,” Harry says, scratching the back of his head. Y/n thinks she might throw up. Boston...America...it’s just so far away. The farthest she’s ever been is Italy on vacation. 

She stares at him apprehensively. “Do you...umm...do you want to go?” 

Harry doesn’t answer her at first. It takes to the count of five for him speak. “I don’t know. Probably not. I mean...it’s a lot to ask, don’t you think? He’s asking me to uproot my life here.” He gazes at her. “And I really like it here.”

She lets out the breath she’d been holding. She doesn’t think she’d be able to handle being that far from him. He’ll be starting University in the fall, and him going to London already feels too much. Goodbyes aren’t easy for her, and she doesn’t think they’ll ever get easier. 

“At least both parents want you,” she doesn’t realize what she’s saying until it’s up in the air. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugs him off. “It’s just, you’re lucky that both of them love you.”

Harry appears to think hard on this. “I love you.”

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?” 

He reddens, and for once, she can’t tell what’s going through his head. His jaw juggles back and forth, and then he coughs like he’s got something stuck in his throat. He wipes a hand down his face. “I mean, you’re my best friend, of course I do.” 

Just as quickly as it had enlarged, something inside her deflates. “Oh, right,” she tries not to sound disappointed. It’s a little awkward now, but she’s at least comforted in the fact that he values her so much. She nudges her elbow against him. “Hey,” she quips.

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.” 

***

Y/n’s always thought her dad to be a kind and fair man.

Matthew Y/l/n doesn’t spoil his girls, but he also knows how to reward them for a job well done. He’s also one of those approachable dads, the ones you can talk to about a crush without him getting overly protective. From when she was eight and until now, he’s always been there for her and Ava, and for that, Y/n is forever grateful. 

Which is why she feels like she can discuss this one teensy little thing with him. Now, Y/n, she’s made up her mind about wanting to pursue a career as an artist. Some might say it’s insane! Risky! Financial suicide! But isn’t the threat of failure all the more reason to strive? She thinks so, and she just knows that her dad will too!

After dinner, which is when her dad is at his happiest. His belly is full of Nan’s roast, and he’s sitting next to Gramps on the couch while they watch sports. This is her chance. She’s already practiced on everyone else in the house, plus Penny and Harry, so she has a pretty solid plan on how to approach him.

“Hey, daddy,” she says sweetly, plopping between him and Gramps. He smiles at her and flings an arm around her shoulder. He returns his attention back to the telly. She gives Gramps a look, one so pleading that she thinks she might have just made him tear up, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. 

“I’ve, uh, got to take a shit.” And he stumbles into the hall, Nan’s snorting following closely behind. 

“So, dad, there’s something I actually want to talk about,” she starts, turning so she’s completely facing him. Matthew presses on the remote so that the screen is completely black. He prods her to continue. 

Y/n chuckles nervously. No big deal. “You know how I’m like crazy about my art? I mean, I’ve won three competitions in the last nine months!” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ve been telling everyone at work that my daughter’s an artist. You should’ve seen Anthony’s face when he found out you were the one who beat his boy out for the ribbon...”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad.” She can feel herself getting excited. “And I’m so proud that I get to make you proud. I mean, you’ve given me so much, I feel like it’s the least I can do.” On her lips is her most dazzling smile. 

He eyes her suspiciously. “Okay, I’m sensing something else going on here. Spit it out.”

“Well, it’s just that next year is my last year of college, and I’ll be applying to universities soon, so I was hoping that we could talk about me pursuing art.”

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

“Dad, I want to be an artist.” That wasn’t so bad, right? She can see her dad’s face waver in emotion. At first, he looks confused, then maybe a little unsure, but then he’s just unreadable. “Thoughts?” she presses.

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

“There’s little to no security. The odds of you even making a decent living out of it are practically one in a million.”

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

“I’ve heard enough, Y/n. You’re not going to throw away an education on a hobby.” He sighs, and for a moment, he looks almost guilty. “Look, I’m not telling you to never paint again. I’m just saying that you need to approach this from a more realistic point of view. How about you major in something more reliable––like business or nursing––then minor in what you want?” He continues to ramble on about different prospects, but she’s completely drowned him out by now.

There’s a spot on the rug that’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Where had she gone wrong? He’s never been so forceful with his decisions before. Had she overlooked a portion of her speech? 

“Mum loved art,” she whispers, but it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

Matthew stiffens at the mention of his estranged wife. “Your mother loved a lot of things. A lot more than she ever loved us.” And with that, he gets up and leaves.

***

“I think you should go for it,” she can always count on Harry to support her. 

She sighs, burying her face in his pillow. It smells of coconut and lavender. After her dad had walked out, she’d ran across the yard and had tackled Harry with a hug while he was taking out the trash. He’d given her some water (God knows how hysterical she’d been moments prior) before leading her up to his room so she could calm down.

“What if Dad’s right?” she mutters. “What if this really is just a hobby?” She suddenly feels herself being flipped onto her back, his legs straddling either side of her, his eyes boring into hers like lasers. Thoughts flash through her head, and it crosses her mind that he might actually kiss her. But he remains still.

“Look at me,” he says. “You’re amazing, and you know it. I know it. This whole damn town knows it. If there’s one person I know can make it as an artist, it’s you.”

While his words do encourage her, she’s far more concerned with how close he is. She nods in acknowledgement, and he flops next to her. Both of them stare at the ceiling. She wonders if he ever feels what she feels. 

“I got you something,” he says after a few minutes. He quickly turns and fishes for something under his bed.

“A present?” she doesn’t bother hiding the playfulness in her voice.

He kicks the side of her leg. “Grow up.”

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

He pulls out a giftbag and hands it to her. “Saw this when I was out with Mum and well, it reminded me of you.” 

Peeking into the bag, she immediately smiles. “Is this...is this a frog?”

“Yeah, because remember when we first met? I gave you a–”

“Chocolate frog,” she finishes. It’s a plush toy the size of a basketball and its body is the same colors as their special world. Harry must’ve picked it out because of it. He’s always been thoughtful like that. It shouldn’t surprise her, but whenever he remembers these little things, she can’t help but feel weak at the knees. She and hugs her new frog to her chest. “It’s so cute! Oh, what should we name it?”

“Well, I feel like there’s only one appropriate name for it,” he winks.

“Kaleidoscope?” 

“That...that wasn’t even close to what I was going to say.”

She giggles, reaching over and bringing him in for a hug. “I’m just messing with you! We’ll obviously be calling him Freddo.” She sighs happily when his arms hold on to her tightly. Yeah, she likes his hugs a lot.

***

It’s the middle of March when Harry’s cousin comes to live with him. Jared is about his age, with the same shade of brown hair, only his is straight as opposed to Harry’s mess of wavy curls. Harry had told her that Jared’s mother (Anne’s sister, Sonya) had just passed away after her battle with cancer, and Y/n’s heart broke for the boy she barely knows. Similar to Penny’s situation, Jared’s dad isn’t in the picture. He’d left him and his mum before he was even born, and according to Harry, Jared’s always been very bitter about it.

Jared doesn’t leave his room much, only for school and for meals. Harry’s the only person he talks to because he wants to, not because he has to. They were practically like brothers before Jared had moved away, which Y/n is surprised to hear since she’s never heard of him before. But apparently when they were kids––way before Y/n moved in next door––Jared and his mum would always come over Harry’s house, and they’d play until one of them had to be forcibly dragged away. She had laughed when Harry had told her the story of how he and Jared had gotten stuck in the tree out back for five hours because the adults were so busy chatting inside.  

Sometimes Y/n will stop by and personally offer him some of Nan’s famous chocolate pie, and he’ll accept it only to give it to Harry once she leaves. Of course, she knows it’s nothing personal against her, it just makes her sad that she can’t help someone who is so important to her best friend. It’s hard for her to see Harry worry so much about him, and she really is trying her hardest to help him out. She doesn’t think Jared hates her, if anything, she always catches him staring at her in the halls when he thinks she doesn’t notice. That’s a promising sign, right?

“I happen to think he’s very good looking,” Penny tells her as they walk to Physics. “He kind of reminds of a young Leo.”

“You said the same thing about Harry last week,” Y/n giggles.

“They’re related, aren’t they? Maybe beautiful genes run in the family.”

Penny looks at her. “What do you think?”

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!” 

Y/n’s lips purse together. She hadn’t given him much thought, honestly. 

***

She’s glued to her sketchpad while sitting on the front lawn when she notices a shadow approach her. Not bothering to look up, she pats the spot beside her.

“Nan says that the pudding will be ready in ten,” she says. 

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

Tearing her eyes away from her latest drawing, she turns her head and sees the last person she expected. “Jared! Hi!” she squeaks.

He offers her a side grin. “Hey,” is all he says. He looks down into her lap. “You’re really good.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He rubs his hands on his jeans before settling them around his ankles. “Uh...do you mind if I sit here with you? You can say no, I was just feeling a little stuffed up in–”

“Of course! I love company!” she smiles broadly.

“I don’t know, you and that pencil were looking pretty cozy,” he suggests. She quirks a brow at him, but when the signs of a smirk begin to change the way his eyes gleam, she finally gets it.

“Jesus, that’s disgusting!” She doesn’t hesitate to slap him over the head. He sniggers in return but doesn’t say much more after that. Y/n continues to draw, but occasionally she’ll look up and catch him watching her. He immediately turns away, pretending to be busy with a blade of grass, or he’ll start whistling like it’s a sitcom.  

***

It doesn’t take long before Jared finally opens up to her. He’s funny––really funny, even though most of his humor is dirty––and is constantly finding ways to make Y/n laugh. She’s found that he does a nearly perfect impression of Austin Powers, and she enjoys it very much. There are also certain angles that really highlight how handsome he is. His eyes are a deep brown, almost the same shade as his hair. There are freckles evenly spread around his nose, almost as if they’d been specifically placed there. And oh, his lashes! They’re just as long as Harry’s, except maybe even fuller. She imagines what they would look like with a fresh coat of mascara. (She jokingly brought up the idea once, and to her delight, Jared says he wouldn’t mind it one bit.)

Harry seems happy that his cousin appears to be back to his old, goofball self. He’s definitely not as stressed over trying to get Jared out of his room as he had been in the immediate weeks after his Aunt Sonya’s death. Even Anne is starting to smile more. Losing her sister had been difficult for her, but Y/n admires how she had stepped up and took her nephew in without hesitance. She’s almost positive that that’s where Harry gets his selflessness from.

“Okay, real question, would you rather give up all desserts or all cheeses?” Jared asks. He always plays this game with her. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes even thought-provoking if she’s really into it. 

“Hmm, that’s a tricky one. Because what about–”

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

Her head falls onto his shoulder as she laughs. She doesn’t see how Harry turns away. Although, sometimes she’ll notice how he’ll have this weird look in his eyes whenever the three of them are all hanging out together, but she thinks she’s just imagining it. 

***

When Penny tells her that Jared might like her, she doesn’t totally object to the idea.

***

A few days later, Jared kisses her. It’s one of those kisses that happen when you least expect it. She’s frozen in shock until his lips pull away. It’s strange, she likes the feeling, but something seems amiss. He looks at her nervously, like he’s afraid he’s done something completely wrong. But when she finally manages to get over that initial uncertainty, a grin slowly forms on her lips, and he’s kissing her again.

***

In two weeks’ time, she sees Harry snogging Penny outside his front door. She isn’t sure how to react, but she knows there’s this weird feeling inside of her that she doesn’t like.

***

Her and Harry haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since they started dating other people. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, in fact, she really misses him. Saturday morning breakfasts just aren’t the same without him shuffling into the kitchen in his half-asleep state. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was going out of his way to avoid her. Penny says that maybe he’s just feeling awkward because her two best friends are dating. (It turns out Harry had been the guy she’d been pining over for years.)

Maybe that’s true, but shouldn’t that make it easier for them to find themselves in the same room? She’s happy that Penny’s finally happy! Things hadn’t worked out with her last two boyfriends because all they wanted was to take advantage of her. If there’s one thing she’s sure about, it’s that Harry would never cross any lines that Penny hadn’t invited him to cross.

When they’re in Harry’s car, she’ll catch glimpse of how Harry takes Penny’s hand over the console, or how she’ll feed him fries from their takeaway. It makes her happy to see them like this. Really, it does.

Jared is just as much a gentleman, too. They haven’t done anything past snogging, and she’s okay with that. She isn’t even sure she’s ready for that type of commitment. It’s not like she has this idealized fantasy about losing her virginity. She doesn’t expect it to happen in the same way as the movies, with candles and a bed full of rose petals, or any of that romantic stuff. If the time’s right, it’s right. All she wants is to make sure her heart’s a hundred and ten percent in it before she lets anyone in. She wonders if Penny and Harry have talked about going all the way.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

“Oh,” Y/n tries not to sound surprised. “And how did that go?”

Penny gives a noncommitted answer. “He says he’s willing to wait until I’m ready. But the thing is, I’m ready now!”

***

Penny loses her virginity soon after. Y/n is the first person she calls, and it’s a bunch of squealing and bragging about how perfect it all was. How gentle and attentive he’d been, and how she can’t wait to do it again. It takes everything in her to not hang up. She loves Penny to death, but some things––at least in her opinion––are left unsaid.

***

The first time she and Harry get to spend time together, as in just the two of them, is when Jared is stuck in bed with a cold, and Penny is out with her mum. It’s not exactly planned, in fact, she had only seen him from the living room window whilst helping Nan dust the mantel. Deciding she couldn’t let the opportunity pass, she drops the feather duster and runs out the front door.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets, but she doesn’t sit. It’s only now she sees the bottle of beer hanging between his fingers. He usually only drinks when he’s got something messing with his head. 

He nods at her, and gestures to the spot beside him. She sits, but it feels to calculated for them. Usually, she’d plop down, not caring if their knees would brush together. Now, she’s careful to leave at least a few inches between them. And she hates how awkward things feel between them. In a matter of months, they’d gone from being attached at the hip, to barely acquaintances. 

“So, what’s going on?”

He takes a sip from the bottle, his face twitching with disgust as he does so, then takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel like things should be different?”

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair over her shoulders. She doesn’t know if the goosebumps running down her spin are from that or the it’s from the magnitude of his question. “Different, how?”

His features soften when he finally looks at her. As in, really looks at her. It feels like so long since he’s done, that it takes her breath away. He doesn’t say anything yet, but she can see in his eyes that there’s something there. 

“Harry?” she whispers.

His eyes drop down to her lips, and he licks his own in reaction. Nothing seems to matter at that moment. If her mind had been juggling with thoughts before this, it isn’t now. All she can think about his him. How good it feels to be so close him, and how she wants to be closer. 

Then it hits her. Jared. She’s with Jared, and Harry’s with Penny. She’d been leaning into him, but now that she’s broken from his trance, she straightens up.

Harry brushes off his disappointment with another sip from his beer. His stare lands across the street, where a pair of children are chasing each other around a tree. He drops his head, his hand wrapping around the base of his neck.

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Something like that.”

Finally, he stands up, then offers her his hand so she can too. He doesn’t let go right away, and she revels in how good it feels. She smiles down to where they’re holding each other, then stares into his green orbs. 

Pulling on her arm, she’s suddenly trapped in his embrace. She hugs him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulder blades and pinching his t-shirt between her fingers. It’s all a bit confusing, but she continues to cling to him. She feels his nose nudge the crown of her head before he lets go.

He turns around and doesn’t look back. 

She isn’t sure what just happened, but it feels a lot like goodbye.

*** Ten Years Later

“It doesn’t feel right,” she sighs. “I can’t be the only one who’s thinking it.” He shuffles in place, eyes scanning the room around them. “What do you suggest then?”

“Take this to the empty wall by the entrance, then move the Reynalda exhibit closer to the back. It’s our main attraction, we have to make people work for it.”

Angelo nods approvingly, and she calls a thank you out to him as he gets to work. Y/n watches the rest of her staff disperse into their allocated directions, and it’s then she can finally take a moment for herself. Sometimes she feels suffocated, but at the same time so hollow.

There are so many reasons why Y/n shouldn’t be feeling as empty as she does now. After all, her life is pretty damn close to perfect. She graduated university with high honors, she has a well-paying job as director of a prestigious art gallery, and she lives in a beautiful two-bedroom apartment with her adoring fiancé who she’s been with for the better part of a decade. 

She can’t pinpoint when exactly she realized that something had been missing, or maybe this feeling has always existed somewhere deep inside, and she’s just been really good at hiding it. The only person who knows about this internal battle is Ava, but Y/n doesn’t like to bother her too much since she’s busy with coursework, as well as her own problems that come with being nineteen and young. 

Of course, there’s Jared. Her love. Her rock. Her other half. She doesn’t know why can’t talk about this with him. Maybe it’s too much of girl problem, or maybe it’s just guilt. The last thing she wants him to think is that he’s not enough to fill this void in her life. If anything, he’d been able to pick up all her damaged pieces when she just couldn’t. He’s great, more than. She depends on him, and he’s never let her down. 

But if that’s true. Why can’t she just be honest?

***

“Right, I’m heading out now. I’ll see you–” he pauses, and she can see the concern overtake his features from the reflection of the blank television screen. He walks around their living room and kneels in front of her, his hands rubbing her lower thighs with every intention to soothe her. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I don’t really know,” she laughs, then shakes her head. “It’s silly, really. You go ahead. Go have fun with Sid.” It’s her best attempt at a smile, but it’s a weak one. 

He looks at her unsurely, like he’s debating if he should protest or not. She kisses him gently on the lips. 

“Go.” And she nudges him to his feet. Although she can tell he’s hesitant, he eventually concedes, leaning down for just one more peck to her forehead, then he’s out the door.

She needs to find a way to depress this strange feeling. It’s starting to affect too much of her life. A life that she enjoys, thank you very much.

Before she falls slave to her thoughts, she slumps into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of cabernet. Maybe it’s a far too generous portion, but is there ever such thing as too much wine? At least for tonight, the answer is no.

The alcohol burns her throat with its bitter sweetness, and she finds comfort in how it settles at the pit of her stomach. She breathes in deeply. This is just what she needs. It’s all in her head. Stress, probably. 

Just as she’s about to rewrap herself in her blanket, the front door opens and closes with a gentle thud. She swings around, brows curling in question as Jared slips off his coat leans against the nearest wall.

“Sid will understand. You’re the one who needs me tonight.” 

She leans against the arm of the couch, a moved smile playing at her lips because, wow. How did she get so lucky?

***

“I found another grey hair this morning,” Jared says. “Is this what getting old feels like?”

She runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-eight, Jae. And besides, silver foxes are pretty sexy.” 

“I guess I’m a bit of a Clooney.” And he wags his brows suggestively. If he’s trying to come onto her, it’s not exactly working, but she’s also not completely turned off. This is why they’re good together. After all these years he still knows how to make her laugh.

They’re about a quarter though their takeaway (and she’s so touched that Jared decided to stay home that she doesn’t even say anything about the pork fried rice) when their doorbell sounds.

“I got it, hun,” he says, placing his plate on the coffee table, and grabbing a napkin before greeting the unexpected guest.

Y/n is pleasantly surprised when Penelope falls into the seat beside her. She looks dressed for a date, but the way she blows ferociously into the air, Y/n knows that things haven’t gone her way.

Without asking, Penny helps herself to their food, moaning as she stuffs a spoonful of that same fried rice into her mouth. “If I wasn’t wearing this dress, I would a hundred percent finish this whole thing.”

“You can borrow some clothes,” Y/n offers. Her friend pretends to contemplate, but she’s the first one to stride over into the master bedroom. 

Y/n pulls out a fresh pair of pajamas, and when she turns around, her mouth quirks in a mixture of amusement and suspicion. Under Penny’s dress is the daintiest set of red lace lingerie she’s ever seen. (And she has her fair share of lingerie since she knows it drives Jared wild.)

“Looks like you were in for a sexier evening,” she muses. She tosses Penny the set.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing,” she says. Y/n isn’t quite sure what she means by it, but smirks, nonetheless.  

“Now...” Penny pulls her hair through the hem of the borrowed shirt, “let’s finish off that food, shall we?”

Jared doesn’t say anything when they get back, either too consumed with his egg rolls or not wanting to interject himself into the conversation. Y/n simply kisses him on the cheek as she settles back into her meal. 

She glances at Penny for a moment, and her curiosity becomes overpowering. “Okay, so I wasn’t going to ask, but I feel like I have to now,” she explains. Penny cocks a brow at her. “What happened tonight.”

“He cancelled last minute. I was already at the damn restaurant when he texted saying something came up.” She stabs a piece of orange chicken. “It’s a bunch of bullocks if you ask me.” Typical Penny. It wouldn’t be fair to say that her friend is prone to trust issues, but it does take a little more effort. Ever since Harry had broken up with her back when they were seventeen, she hasn’t kept a relationship for more than a few weeks because she claims she doesn’t want to risk getting her heart broken again.

Harry Styles had broken her best friend’s heart, then disappeared to another country. Y/n hates him for that. She hates that he threw away all those years of friendship without a proper explanation. She hates that he abandoned her, especially when he knew how insecure she is about goodbyes. 

But not every guy is Harry. There are good ones that will stick by you no matter what, like Jared. Y/n reaches over and brushes his bangs away from his eyes. Penny just needs to find her person, and Y/n just knows that once she does, she’ll finally feel right.

“This is that Ahmed guy from the gym, right? I don’t know, Pen. He’s a decent bloke. Maybe something really did happen.”

Penny pulls a face, like she’s just oversaturated her food with soy sauce. “Wouldn’t hold my breath. He’s got baggage, and he won’t accept that he isn’t happy to carry it anymore.”

That last bit sticks to her. 

***

Her job requires her to have both a deep appreciation for art and a mind for marketing strategy. It had been the closest compromise that she and her father had come to when she had started her plight for a degree. 

After spending the last of her year of secondary school having second thoughts about the plausibility of making it in the art world, she decided that maybe her dad was right, after all. He would tell her to be in charge, to take control of her life. That way, she’d never be blindsided by anything. She’s still around the world she loves––the canvas, the acrylics, the community of dreamers who share their passion with the world––just from a more business perspective. The more she reflects on those naïve teenage years, the more she appreciates the direction she’d took. She has the best of both worlds, in her opinion. A steady income, and a building full of paintings and sculptures and history. What more can she ask for?

“Y/n!” She looks over her shoulder, where Angelo, her assistant, waves some a sizeable file in his hands. He gives her a knowing smirk.

“Good news?” she teases.

Angelo hands her the file. “Sales report can confirm.”

She glosses it over, satisfied with the numbers. Looks like she’d inherited more from her dad than just his advice. “And they said Expressionism was dead.” Their last grand showcase had been an ode to the German Expressionism movement. They had drawn criticism in the days leading up to the event because some saw it as outdated. But that’s just ridiculous. Art is art. And while history remains in the past, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be appreciated. Y/n’s vision for the gallery is embrace both the old and the new.

“Degenerates,” Angelo rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Dax, Narsi, and I are thinking Damond’s for lunch. You in?”

She looks down at her watch, and curses under her breath. “Can’t,” she sighs. “I have to interview the new curator in a bit.”

“You work too much,” he says humorously, but they both know there’s truth stitched into his words. He gives a friendly squeeze to her elbow. “Bring you back sandwich?” 

“Please,” she smiles. He gives her a mock salute before turning on his heel. 

When he’s completely out of sight, she lets her lips fall into a frown. She examines her watch again, there’s still a few minutes until their scheduled virtual call. She uses the time to stroll the halls, something she doesn’t really get to do. Well, not for fun, at least. 

Things are currently in transition, and all of the Maximalism works are finding their way onto her walls. She stops in front of one in particular that just screams color. With its carefully planned, yet freeing mixture of patterns and textures, it’s a piece to tickle the brain. 

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes widen. That voice. She feels everything from her body to her unsuspecting heart freeze.

Her grip on her own arm tightens painfully. She thinks she might turn blue from her inability to breathe at this moment. 

“I’ve always liked how much of the artist we can feel. It really captures the complexity of character.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “I agree.” She risks all and looks up, and he’s right there waiting for her. Harry. Her arms drop to her side as she feels herself grow weak.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Hi,” he whispers, then smiles. That smile. She had tried so hard not to think about how it had once been her favorite image. His dimples have caved in deeper, if that’s even possible. And his eyes, they’re the same brilliant green she remembers. “I saw an ad in the paper and thought I’d check it out.”

Something must be strangling her vocal cords because she finds that she’s unable to make a sound. 

***

“And what did you do?” 

Y/n drops her head to the table, not even caring if it’s dirty. With the day she’s had, it’s the least of her problems. “I was in shock! I-I think I might have screamed at him.” 

Ava snorts into her drink. 

There’s not much about earlier that she can clearly recall, but she does remember how she had fled to her car and driven halfway across the city to her sister’s dorm and dragged her to the nearest pub. Why? Because she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Why would he just...show up?” she questions. “It makes no sense!”

“Probably got homesick,” Ava shrugs. “Plus, Dad says it’s been in the work–”

“Wait,” Y/n’s head snaps towards her. “Dad knows?”

The younger woman looks at her as if she were insane. “Duh, he’s the one that approved the transfer.”

“But why am I only hearing about this now?” She feels herself heating up with annoyance, anger, and something else that makes her want to pull her hair out. Ava doesn’t respond right away. She looks down at her now empty drink and watches as the ice cubes into water. 

“Well,” she starts, still not bothering to meet her eyes, “ever since he left, he’s been a bit of a taboo subject for you.” 

Her jaw tenses at that, and she sits back in her chair. That’s a bit of an overstatement. Y/n had reacted the way any person would have if put in her situation. She huffs with frustration. “So, what else is everyone hiding from me?”

“This isn’t an intervention, enough with the dramatics,” Ava says.

Y/n’s lips form into a straight line. She looks over the bar and tuts her tongue. “I need another drink,” she mutters. “Where the heck is Penny? She’s supposed to be working tonight.”

***

After Ava had started going to school in the city, her dad had decided to move into the London office full-time in order to be closer to both his girls. And lucky for Y/n, he’s just close enough to get information out of. She visits her dad during her lunch break because she needs answers.

“Dad, we need to talk,” she demands, bursting through his office door without any regard for just about anything. “Explain to me why...”

Matthew Y/l/n tilts his head at her with a raised brow, and the person sitting on the opposite side of his desk has an expression to match.

“Perfect,” she sneers. “We’re all here, then.”

She nearly loses it when Harry choke down a laugh while getting up and offering her his now empty seat. She takes it, but not before she glares at him and his stupid face. 

Her dad looks like he’s been caught in a crossfire, and he calculatingly smooths down his perfectly ironed tie. Harry takes the seat beside hers, except he makes a point to pull it a few inches away.

“So...” her dad practically sings. “Harry’s back!”

“I can see that.” From the corner of her eye, she sees a smirk. “Why are you even here?” 

Harry doesn’t seem offended despite the harsh nature of her tone. He chances a glance at her dad before turning to her. “Work,” is his first answer. He bounces one leg over the other and leans back against the back the seat. His expression softens. “But I guess I just really missed home.”

She thinks that’s bullshit. No decent person would leave everything behind without a second thought. “It took you ten years?”

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?” 

“This isn’t really the place nor time...”

“Then why bother coming back!"

That manages to crack Harry’s calm demeanor. He looks at her as if she had knocked the wind from his lungs. At this point her chest is heaving, as well. She forgets where they are and that her dad is a witness to this outburst. 

“I, uh,” they both turn to Matthew as he tries to find the words to appease the situation. “I was thinking we could all go out for dinner later?” He’s joking, right? He smiles as her, but with that ‘I’m your father and you don’t have much of a say in this’ look in his eyes. “How about you and Jared meet us around...say, seven? Hey, you know what? Bring Penelope, too!”

“Pen–”

Matthew swivels in his chair and practically hops to his feet. He leans down and kisses Y/n on the head. “Got to get to a meeting. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s gone. It leaves her alone with the person she wants nothing more than to get away from.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. There are so many things she feels bombarding her all at once and there’s not one thing she can make sense of. Harry doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s typing something on his phone. His lips are quirked up in an almost-grin, and she can’t help but feel miffed that he has the audacity to pull such a face in her presence when all she can do is glower. 

“I guess we’ll talk later?” he suddenly says. He slips his phone into his pants pocket. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. Like her dad had done, he gets up and starts towards the door. But before she can even hear it graze against the carpeting, he mutters one last thing. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

Her dress squeaks loudly against the leather of her seat because she must have turned too quickly. Their eyes meet, his are difficult to read.

***

“...and I’ve been trying to look for a flat, but the boss works me too hard,” Harry smirks over at Matthew. Her dad lets out a hearty chuckle as he finishes off the last of dessert.

“Well, if you’re really that overworked, it’s not at all obvious,” Penny says with a saucy smile. “Definitely still a catch.” She touches his arm, and Y/n digs her nails into her palm because it makes her feel sick. It’s ridiculous that she’s so bothered by how quickly conversation had flowed between Harry and Penelope. 

Jared has an arm around the back of her chair. He looks bored with the conversation. She can’t tell if he’s irked at Harry (in the same way she is) or because he sees how much her dad likes him. That’s not to say that Jared isn’t well liked by Matthew. He did get his blessing to propose, after all. Yeah, they’ve been engaged for a while now. But so, what? Long engagements are common enough, and it does allow the two participants to fully get to know one another, as well as get close to the important people in their lives. Things just aren’t as smooth between her dad and Jared as she would like, but she supposes that’ll ease over with time. 

“I wouldn’t let my current appearance fool you,” Harry snorts.

“Is that a challenge?” Penny bats her lashes at him. 

Y/n can’t take it anymore. “So!” she interrupts, “Pen, didn’t you go out with that Vogue photographer last night?

Her friend gives her an odd look, but when she sees the rest of the table’s eyes on her, she waves it off. “Oh, yeah. But it didn’t end how I would’ve liked.” She gestures between her legs. “He had a little trouble getting it up.” 

“Penelope Swanton,” Matthew warns, as if she might give him a heart attack. “Parental unit sitting right here.”

Everyone shares a laugh except for Y/n and Jared. The latter just stares at the tablecloth with vague intensity. It’s strange that he hasn’t made a quip all night. He’s usually the one who talks the most...well, besides Penny. 

“Maybe pretty girls scare him,” Harry chuckles. “It happens to the best of us.”

A mischievous glint sparkles in Penny’s eyes. “Do I scare you, Harry?” 

“COFFEE!” Y/n all but screams. “We should order coffee!” She can’t just sit there and watch her friend make the same mistakes all over again. It would be a serious miscarriage of justice is she were to let that happen. 

But she can only stall for so long, and before she knows it, they’re all making their way out of the restaurant. It’s that awkward phase of standing outside and making small talk before someone has the balls to leave. Harry offers Penny a ride, and Y/n has to watch as they get into his car, laughing like he hadn’t broken her heart all those years ago. 

Jared still seems to be in a mood as well, but he plays it off and tells her he’s got a stomachache from the scallops he had as an appetizer. She rubs his back as they wait for the valet to bring their car around, glaring at Harry’s taillights before he turns onto the road. 

***

Y/n manages to not think about Harry for a few weeks. With the newest exhibit opening up, it’s kept her body and mind busy. By the time she gets home, she’s tired and all she wants is to put her feet up and watch reruns of Downton Abbey.

The doorbell rings, and she can’t help but groan because she was just getting comfortable. She looks through the peephole, then shakes her head knowingly. She pulls the door open.

“Don’t you have work?” she asks playfully, but she wishes she could take it back when she sees the broken look painted across Penny’s face. “Oh my god, are you alright?” She guides her friend into the apartment and sits her down on the couch.

Penny suddenly bursts into tears, her face falling into her hands as though she were hiding her shame. Not wanting to distress her further, Y/n gathers her in her arms and lets her cry it out. They’ve been through a lot together, and in all their years of friendship, she’s never seen her look so somber as she does now.  

She strokes her hair, whispering her reassurance even though she’s left in the dark. Penny breaks from her hug and wipes her eyes with her knuckles before looking at her with misty eyes. “I’m...” but she starts blubbering, and nothing coherent can be understood. Y/n waits patiently until she can speak. “I’m pregnant.” 

Y/n feels the color drain from her face while her head fills worry. She can’t decide who she’s worried more about, Penny or her baby. Penny is an adult is capable of making her own decisions, but she can also be reckless. She can barely pay her rent on time and her work schedule isn’t the best either. A baby would mean growing up, but Y/n knows that Penny’s still trying to figure things out. 

Then, the inevitable question bubbles in her throat. “How far along?” Penny sniffles. “About six weeks.”

Y/n feels awful that the first thing she feels is relief. Not Harry’s. “And the father?” 

“I can’t tell him,” Penny cries, she lays her head in Y/n’s lap. “He’s...he has a...” She doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Y/n to understand.

“Penny...” her tone is every bit of disappointed. 

***

She accompanied Penny to her first appointment to the OB-GYN this morning, and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat had been enough to drive both women to tears. It was beautiful, and the look in Penny’s eyes said all that they could. Sure, Y/n had worried about her when she first learned of the pregnancy, but that had immediately changed with just that one look. 

One day, Y/n hopes to have children of her own. She and Jared have opened up the topic a few times, but they never seem to be on the same page when it comes to starting a family. He claims it’s because his job’s hours are too crazy to juggle an infant. He’s the physical therapist for the National Football team, which means he has to go with them on away games. Deep down, however, Y/n thinks he’s afraid that he’ll end up the way his father did. She wants to tell him that’s ridiculous, but she always has to walk on eggshells about that. 

It’s okay, though. Until she and Jared can come to an agreement, she has no qualms over spoiling her new niece or nephew. Auntie Y/n. She likes the sound of that. So much, in fact, that she finds herself outside of a baby boutique on the high street. She wonders if Penny will be having a boy or a girl. 

“So cute!” she smiles to herself when she sees all the onesies on the mini mannequins. Would it be too early to plan Penny’s baby shower? She’s so lost in hypothetical party planning that she doesn’t notice see body before they collide, and warm liquid misses her shoes by mere centimeters. 

“I’m so sorry!” she rushes out an apology. There’s an unflattering brown stain on his otherwise perfect white button-up. She grabs for her wallet in her purse, hoping to at least pay for the damages, but stops when she gets a good look at him.

“You.” 

The world must really have it out for her. Harry looks down at his tainted shirt. “Nice seeing you too.” 

“Sorry,” she says again. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Head in the clouds?” he muses, shaking his sleeve of the last remaining drops of coffee.

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

He looks at the store in front of them, and his head snaps towards her. “Are you...?”

“No,” she replies immediately. “A friend of mine.”

For some reason, his shoulders seem to relax. He’s still incredibly handsome, though she never doubted that that would ever change. Under his wet shirt, she notices a sizeable few tattoos inked onto his chest. The sight intrigues her, and she has to stop herself from reaching out and tracing them with her finger. 

“Let me pay for your dry-cleaning,” she says, tearing her eyes away from his body. 

Harry shakes his head. “There’s no need, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” She really doesn’t want to be in his debt. “I’d feel better if I could make it up to you somehow.”

“No, really. It’s fine.” Why is he so stubborn?

“I insist.” 

He studies her for a moment. She imagines that she can see the gears turning as he thinks. 

“I’m actually on my way to a viewing, and well...I’m not really sure what to look for.”

She replays his words in her head. “So, you want me to...help you pick out an apartment?” That can’t be right.

“My car’s just over there,” he points with his chin. “What do you say?”

Alarms are sounding in her head, each one screaming a different command between her ears. A part of her is saying it’s a bad idea, that she should stand her ground and stay mad at him because of what he had done. On the other hand, the rest of her––the biggest part of her––wants to indulge in the feeling she has when she’s with him. It’s a crazy mix of fury and joy that isn’t entirely unbearable. 

“Fine,” she concedes, and she brushes past him and starts towards his car. “But only because I feel bad about the shirt.” She doesn’t dare look back. She slides into the passenger seat and buckles herself in. Her stomach is doing cartwheels beneath her high-waisted pants. 

Harry gets into the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the engine right away. He pulls his jacket off and places it neatly on the console. What he does next makes her regret getting out of bed this morning. Her mouth dries as he undoes every button of his shirt and reveals the tattoos she’d been fantasizing about earlier.

“Do-do you mind?” She feels her cheeks heat up, and she turns to the window in hopes to find a distraction. 

“Well, I’m not going to talk business looking like I’ve just been bullied by a barista.”

“That’s completely beside the point!” 

“Well, you can look now, Mother Teresa,” he says smugly. She hesitantly cranes her neck back. He’s now sporting a similar shirt, but this time, it’s dark grey. “See?”

She huffs, then mutters something under her breath. He smiles at her, like he’s just dying to tease her, but ultimately decides not to. She just glares straight ahead.

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

“And this unit is complete with its own balcony which overlooks the Thames,” Mariette, Harry’s real-estate agent says to the both of them. “It sets the mood nicely, don’t you think? And it happens to be very popular with our younger couples.” She sends them a not-so-subtle wink. 

Y/n feels herself flush, and she ducks into the kitchen and pretends to inspect the marble countertop. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry says. He doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention, or if he is, he’s really good at hiding his own embarrassment. Y/n wonders if he’s just humoring the over-zealous agent. After all, he was never the type to correct someone over silly little details. 

Mariette tells them to walk around, get a feel for the place, before excusing herself to make a phone call. Y/n follows Harry up the stairs where all the bedrooms are. There are three, and the master bedroom has its own ensuite toilet and bath.

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

She glances at the view from the window. It’s beautiful, gorgeous even. The building itself is in one of the nicer parts of town, where the congested London traffic wouldn’t take away from its overall aura. She can already picture him spending the mornings on the balcony with a cup of tea and a book or passed out on a king-sized mattress in the bedroom after a long day of work.

“It’s nice,” she answers truthfully. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Harry looks at her like she’s spewing nonsense. “I asked for your input, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. But at the end of the day, it’s your home. Not mine. You might not even stay around long enough to enjoy it.” The look on his face when she lets that last part slip out makes her wish she had just shut her mouth. She leaves him in the bedroom and heads into the hall. She needs to get away. Why couldn’t she have just given him a simple answer? Why does she continue to open up old wounds that she knows she’ll never be able to close? 

Before she can get far, however, his fingers curl around her shoulder. He swallows thickly behind her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Until now, he hadn’t apologized. She hadn’t expected him to, and now she isn’t sure how to take it. This should vindicate her, but all she wants to do is curl up and close herself off from the world, even for a little while.

She looks down to her feet, and as though on cue, her eyes begin to fill with tears. Her hand quickly lands on her mouth to muffle a sob.

He turns her towards him, holding her by the waist. In a split-second, she’s wrapped in his arms. She tries to pull away, but her body is too unwilling to lose his familiar warmth. 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” she whimpers against his shirt.

His chest heaves. “Because if I did, I’d never be able to leave.” His words shake her.

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “But what about me?” she asks. “Harry, you were my best friend, and you just treated me like I meant nothing to you.” It made her feel like nothing. Apparently, she’s an easy person to leave behind. First it was her mother, then the person she trusted most. She couldn’t tell you which had broken her more.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

“Then let me make it up to you,” his plea is coated with desperation. Every bit of him shines with sincerity that she wishes she could ignore. His touch burns her through her clothes like blue flames. Body and mind are rekindling, and now that she remembers what it feels like to be close to him, she can’t see a version of herself that doesn’t want him back in her life.

“I don’t know if I believe in second chances,” she says softly. His grip on her loosens substantially, and there’s a sudden fear that he’ll let go. “But,” she continues, “you’ll be my first.”

It’s a bone-crushing, heart-enlarging hug, and it leaves her feeling happier than she’s felt in a long time.

***

They’re not the same two kids who would spend every waking moment together, but this is the closest they’ll ever get in adult life.

Harry visits her on her lunch breaks and lets her bounce marketing strategies off of him whilst they walk the gallery. Just like her dad, he has a well-versed business mind. It feels good to be able to talk to him again. It’s like a part of herself has risen after years of sleep and is finally seeing the light of day. Under the fancy suits and numerous tattoos, he’s still the same guy who can listen to her talk for hours without fail.

She’s even had him over for dinner at her and Jared’s place. At first, she was afraid that things would be tense between the two of them, after all, Jared hadn’t talked much during their dinner nearly a month back. To her delight, however, they seemed to pick up where they left off, and spent majority of the night talking sports and all that ‘man’ talk that she can never be bothered to understand. 

If a month ago she had felt empty, she can proudly admit that she’s starting to fill up.

***

When Penny announces that the baby is a girl, Y/n is probably the most excited. She visits the baby boutique she’d been browsing some days ago and buys a rubber duckie onesie with a matching headband, along with four other matching sets.

“You really shouldn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Penny scolds her.

Y/n waves her off. There shouldn’t be any of that nonsense. She likes being able to spoil her best friend’s future child. “I want to. Just humor me, okay? I’m aiming for Auntie of the Year.” She lays all the rest of the outfits on Penny’s sofa.

“It’s true,” Harry adds. “She’s already had the bib made.” Y/n flips him off but is far too delighted by all the pretty patterns to come up with a proper retort. Rather, she tries to sweep Penny into conversation about a real baby shower (and not just the one she’d planned in her head), discussing potential guests and a wish list that she should start setting up on Amazon.

Jared and Penny give each other a look, and the way the former’s jaw tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry but completely goes over Y/n’s head.  

***

“Why don’t you put any of your own work on display?” Harry asks her one day.

“Honestly?” she sighs, “I haven’t actually made anything in...well, almost a decade.”

His jaw drops. “I don’t think I heard you right, a decade?” 

The same amount of time you’ve been gone, she thinks to herself. Of course, now that they’re back to being friends, she would never say it out loud. 

***

Nan had called her up and asked if she and Ava would drive up to Holmes Chapel and help her sort out all the things to donate. They try to visit their grandparents every few months because they are getting to the age where they won’t be around for long. Although, Nan will tell anyone with ears that she’s stronger than she was in her twenties due to her weekly spin classes at the community center. Meanwhile, Gramps is still the same as ever. He still sits in front of the TV and watches highlights of games he’s got recorded on the DV-R, and accidentally knocks over Nan’s petunia’s when he backs the car out of the garage. 

Her childhood bedroom is also how she had left it. Sure, her teenage years had called for a bit of renovation, but underneath posters of her favorite actors and boy bands are the youthful stickers Nan had put up when they had first arrived. 

She rummages through her closet, throwing old clothes in good condition into her donation basket. There are even some that were never worn, and she debates whether she’d be able to use any of it, but ultimately decides against it.  

The top shelf is full of empty shoe boxes and other things she had carelessly thrown up there. Her old sketchbook falls open, face down, at her feet. 

She picks it up and is greeted by the same sketch that had won her first prize in the art show all those years ago when she was fifteen. Her fingers graze over the pencil lines, and it’s like being reacquainted with an old friend. She had spent months on this one drawing, and it had turned out to be her greatest piece to date (the actual painting is still being preserved at the school).

“You know, I always thought that boy looked like Anne’s boy,” Nan says nonchalantly. Y/n hadn’t even heard her come in. 

“What?” Y/n stares intently at the paper. “You think so?”

Ava practically skips in. “Oh, gossiping, are we?” She sounds just like Nan. Y/n can’t help the roll of her eyes. 

“I was just telling your sister about how that painting of hers up at the school looks a lot like Harry.”

“Is it not supposed to?” Ava seems genuinely confused. 

“I mean...it wasn’t actually based on anyone in particular,” Y/n says, feeling the need to defend herself. “It was just...something I envisioned in my head.” She turns back to her closet, leaving Nan and Ava to carry on their conversation on her bed. 

Reaching her arm up high, she feels around the shelf until she pokes something soft. When she brings it down, she can’t help but grin. Freddo. She had almost forgotten about him. After Harry had left, she had gone on a bit of a rampage, and any reminder of him had fallen victim to the trash or banishment to the top shelf.

Nan must notice her smile because she comes up and cradles her from behind and rests her chin on her shoulder. “It’s funny,” she says, and Y/n looks back at her expectantly. “I also thought that you two would end up together, but I guess I was off by a bit, huh?” She kisses Y/n on the cheek and calls for Ava to follow her downstairs.

Y/n stares at the toy as though it held some sort of secret.

***

She’s lucky she’s home by herself––Jared is off at the pub for his and Sid’s weekly meet-up––because now she has time to unwind and be as antisocial as she wants. Work had been stressful, mostly because the exhibit is set to open next week. And really, all she wants is to be under her favorite blanket with a cup of hot chocolate and just be dead to the world.

Even though she thinks that, however, she can’t help but tap on her phone screen every few minutes. Sure, she likes the time alone, but she also likes being needed. Ava says it’s a control thing, but she really just prefers to be in the know. Lately, Penny’s been spamming her with messages and phone calls about the baby or sometimes it’ll be for a little reassurance. Of course, she’s more than happy to support her. It’s brave of Penny to tackle this alone. The baby’s father is completely out of bounds, so she’s told, and Penny says she’d rather her baby grow up with just a mother than in some dysfunctional setup.

Speaking of dysfunction, she hasn’t been able to properly think straight ever since her visit with Nan. What the elderly woman had told her hadn’t exactly shocked her, per say, but it did have her rethink some of the interactions between her and Harry. It’s ridiculous, really. They’d been best friends since she was eight and he was nine. They know each other’s ins and outs, likes and dislikes, what makes the other laugh and cry. They’re simply comfortable. 

Okay. Maybe there had been times where she thought that the possibility of something more was on the table, but that quickly proved to be all in her imagination. She had her boyfriends and he had his girlfriends. She fell in love with his cousin, and he dated her other best friend. Then he left town.

Then he left.

***

Abandoning her original plans for the night, Y/n finds herself at his door. 

“Hey,” he greets her, but his warm smile falters when he takes note of her appearance. “What’s with the look? Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, she’s too taken by the image of him and the way her heart feels like it might burst from her chest to comprise a full sentence. He doesn’t push her, though. He fishes into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a shapely object wrapped in purple foil. “I-uh, I don’t eat chocolate that much anymore, but they don’t have these in America, so I’ve been snacking on a few of these a week.” It lands itself in her hand. “Just like when we were kids, right?”

It’s a Freddo. A fucking Freddo. Her fingers curl around it.

“You once asked me if I thought that things should’ve been different,” she says. “What did you mean by that?”

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She takes one step closer. He evades her eyes, like he’s afraid they’ll speak on their own. Her stomach tightens because it’s all starting to make sense. His words. That embrace. These feelings that have always existed between them. “You left because of me.”

It’s not a question, but a sure statement. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She slides a hand up to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. When he finally does, she’s sees it. And her gut says it’s not the first time. 

It’s heartache. 

She knows because she sees it every time she looks in the mirror. It’s taken her this long to realize it. That hollow feeling that’s been consuming her, it disappeared the day Harry Styles walked back into her life. Once the anger over what he’d done had subsided, she’s felt nothing but joy since. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She wants to scream. 

“You made him happy,” is all he says, almost regretfully. “I couldn’t take that away from him.”

“So, you didn’t even consider how I felt? Harry, I would’ve...would’ve–”

“And that’s why I had to leave!” He wipes both hands down his face in frustration. “We would’ve ended up hurting two people we cared too much about.”

“You don’t know that–”

“If I had tried to kiss you that night, would you have let me?” His gaze bores into her. 

Yes. The voice within her screams it over and over. He must already know her answer because he just smiles sadly at the floor. This is why he had done it. He knew that if he had stayed any longer, it would have only been a matter of time before they gave into each other. 

It makes her sick. 

“I figured if I just took myself out the equation, the rest of you would be spared the heartbreak.” He sighs. “And it worked. You and Jared are about to start a life together, Penny’s got her baby. You’re happy.”

She wants to counter him, but she can’t find the strength. “What about you?” she whispers instead.

He tilts his head to the side. “I came back to prove to myself that I could be happy for you.” His jaw slackens, and he doesn’t continue.

She’s toe to toe with him. “And are you?”

The next thing she knows, her back is against the wall, and her fingers are tangled in his hair. His lips feed her, makes her blood come alive like she’s never lived until now. She kisses him with everything she has. Every drop of anger and every ounce of emotion that burns through her veins. His hands keep her body as close to his as possible, yet, they feel so gentle as they caress her curves like she’s made of glass. It feels so right.

And it shouldn’t. 

Just as sudden as it had started, she pushes him away. He doesn’t fight her. Without another word, she leaves his apartment.

*** When she makes it home, Jared is about to get ready for bed. She drops her clothes to the floor, and his soon follow. They fall onto the bed, his teeth gnawing down her jaw while his hand slides down to cup her heat. He asks her if she’s ready once his member is nudged against her opening. She nods, and he pushes into her, just as he’s done many times before.

She tries her best to focus on how good this should feel to have him inside of her, but the more he moves, the more she feels like this is all a mistake. It feels all too similar to when she had given him her virginity. It happened the night after Harry had skipped town. She was upset and wanted to feel something aside from the pain he had caused her. Jared had been there, and things had soon escalated. But it didn’t feel right. Her heart wasn’t in it, and so her body couldn’t give itself the relief it had been searching for.

It hasn’t felt like that since, or maybe she had gotten better at hiding it, just as she’s done with everything else. She had hoped that sex with Jared would put her mind and her heart back into perspective, but instead, she feels even more helpless.

One kiss with Harry had meant more to her than any of this. It fills her with shame because shouldn’t want to be with anyone except Jared, especially when all he’s ever done is love her. 

She doesn’t realize it’s over until he rolls off her with a content sigh, then stumbles into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, and it’s then she feels the tears start to fill the rim of her eyes. Her thighs clasp together as her humiliation fully sets in. She turns on her side and covers her naked body with the blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed. Jared returns minutes later, mumbling a goodnight. If he has something else to say, he doesn’t. It takes to the count of five for him to drift to sleep. 

***

“I need to cancel the engagement,” she says. Ava gives her a circumspect shrug of the shoulders, like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. Y/n turns to her, hands twiddling the fingers in her lap from stress. “What do you think I should do?”

Ava looks at her, the pity is obvious on her face. “I don’t know, sis.” She rubs her back. “Are you going to tell Jared about you and Harry?”

“I have to.”

***

She doesn’t have the opportunity to talk to Jared until the night of the exhibit opening since he’d been in Spain on a team trip. It’s eating her up, how she hasn’t told him yet, but at least by the end of today she’ll no longer be holding on to something so big. He had promised to come straight to the gallery once he landed back at Heathrow. His flight was set to get in two hours ago, so it’s only a matter of time now. 

More and more people are starting to fill the floor. Most are patrons whom she sees frequently at these events, but there are some new faces mixed in the crowd. She’s lucky that Ava and her grandparents are here to support her, especially when she’ll probably need them afterwards. 

“Hey, don’t look so nervous,” Nan tells her. “The place looks great. You know, I overheard that guy in the red Chanel that he’s interested in buying.” Bless her, Y/n thinks. Nan’s always had a way of diffusing the tension, even when she isn’t aware of it. 

“I’m happy you guys are here,” Y/n says, and she brings her friend in for a hug. 

Nan gives her a confused smile. “Of course, we’re here. We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she proudly declares, and she elbows Gramps in the ribs when he doesn’t contribute. “Honestly, try to look a little alive.”

“I put on a tie, didn’t I?” Gramps rolls his eyes, but then he sends Y/n a wink.  

“Where’s Penelope this evening?” Nan asks, scanning the room, brows furrowing. Y/n feels a sweat break out. She just hopes that Penny will understand when she finds out about her feelings for her ex-boyfriend. It’s been years, sure, but there has to be some kind of friendship code that prohibits this sort of thing. “And where’s that fiancé of yours? He should be here with you.”

“Probably just got stuck in traffic,” Y/n says, but honestly, she’s reveling the extra time she has to prepare.

Nan hooks arms with Ava and Gramps, and they walk the floor while Y/n greets a few of her guests. Her dad is one of them, no surprise there. He pecks her on the side of the head and lets out a perplexed sound as he gazes at all the art. 

“I feel like I should understand this kind of thing by now,” he muses, gesturing to the portrait of naked man made from duct tape and spoons. “Anything after 2003 is lost to me. I just don’t get it.”

“Are you proud of me?” Y/n shocks herself with the question.

Matthew looks stunned himself. “Why would you ask something like that? You know that I am.” He pulls her aside, so they have a little more privacy. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” There’s worry in his eyes. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she appeases, “I just wanted to hear it.” Her dad doesn’t respond but hugs her tight. They stay like that for a moment, she’s always felt safe in his arms, until she feels them loosen around her. She looks up at him, his look somewhere else. When she follows it, her heart skips a beat.

“Harry!” Matthew takes his hand and shakes it. “I haven’t seen you in a full two hours!” 

The younger man lets out a slight chuckle. “It’s been unbearable. I just can’t keep away.” He turns to her. “Congratulations.” 

A nod is all she can afford. 

Matthew looks between the two of them, and their situation feels almost familiar. He coughs into his hand and excuses himself as he chases a waiter down the west wing. 

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her. 

She purses her lips to the side. There’s so much she wants to say to him, but she’s afraid of what she might do. 

Against her better judgement, she leads him into her office. She leaves the door open behind her in the off chance that things intensify. She doesn’t need any more guilt on her plate. (But she wishes he wasn’t wearing such a properly fit suit. It’s far too distracting for the seriousness of the situation.)

Leaning against her desk, arms crossed over her chest, she waits for him to speak. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It was both our doing,” she stresses. If you asked her who had kissed who first, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. “We just...got caught up in the moment.” I let my heart dictate my actions.

He looks hurt by her words but doesn’t press her on it. “I should’ve stopped it. I always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you, and when it happened, I...” He shakes his head, and she’s thankful that he’ll never finish that sentence. She’s already heard it in her mind. Hearing out loud would cause both of them too much agony.

“I know,” she rasps. “I can’t stand here and say that I didn’t want it, but–”

“you don’t want to hurt him.” She smiles appreciatively, though, sadly. In another life, maybe they would have a chance. This one doesn’t have a place for them. Even if she ends things with Jared, it doesn’t erase the fact that they’re family. She could never start anything with Harry without him getting hurt. It’s a matter of acceptance now. 

This must have been what Harry had been feeling when he had left. As much as it hurts to remember, she thinks she at least understands it better. 

“I need air,” she says, not wanting to entertain those thoughts further, “join me?” She grabs her phone from her desk. It’s getting late, and she’s starting to worry about Jared. 

They leave her office and start towards the back door that some of her staff use when they want a smoke. She usually avoids it for that reason, but it was getting too stuffy in there. Her lungs will forgive her if she takes this one moment to herself. Her screen unlocks, and just as she’s about to press on her fiancé’s name, Harry pushes the door open and she looks up as the evening breeze brushes her face and then...

“What the hell is this?” She drops her phone to the ground. 

Jared and Penny pull away from each other, but the space between them is nearly nonexistent. The latter meets her with scared eyes that soon begin to fill up. One hand covers her mouth as she chokes on a sob or maybe even fear, while the other clasps over her swollen belly. Y/n’s eyes drift down to it. It clicks. 

“Y/n...” Jared starts, he’s breathing heavily. “Let me–”

“That’s why you couldn’t tell me his name,” she says shakily. It’s directed at Penelope. “You couldn’t tell me because it was him.” The night Penelope had come over unannounced after her alleged date cancellation at the same time Jared had cancelled his own plans. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing.” And that’s exactly what she had done, and right under her nose. They’d have been sneaking around behind her back for months.

“We d-didn’t mean for it to get this far...” Penny tries to explain, she steps out from behind Jared’s shadow. The usually confident blonde has lost several inches of height. She says something else, but it’s like Y/n’s just drowned out all the noise. Her eyes still haven’t left Penelope’s stomach. 

She wants to hate her. She should hate her. But she’s just an innocent victim caught in her parents’ web of lies. Then she grits her teeth at Jared. How far he’s fallen from the pedestal she’d put him on. Now she’s certain that she had inflated his image in her spiraling guilt for having feelings for another man. To think that only minutes ago she was about to plead for his forgiveness for kissing Harry, when all this time he’d been fucking her closest friend. 

“Jared,” his name weighs like venom on her tongue, “I want you out of the apartment by tonight.”

She just runs. Down the alleyway, ignoring all the calls of her name behind her. Harry’s voice is by far the loudest. There’s a thud, followed by a scream. However tempted she is to look back, her legs have developed a mind of their own and lead her towards the busy sidewalk. The bright streetlights burn her eyes, but she doesn’t stop.

She keeps going until she finds the first empty cab. Getting in without a second to hesitate, she closes the door and tells the man behind the wheel to just go. 

“Where to?” he asks her. Her first instinct is to go home and lock herself in her room, but she realizes that she’ll probably have to confront Jared again, and that’s not going to happen. Her second and third options are still at the gallery, completely oblivious to all the night’s revelations. There’s just one other person on that list, so Y/n gives the driver the address. 

***

It takes less than twenty minutes for her to end up in front of a building with bright blue doors and window panels to match. She climbs the steps, one wobbly footstep at a time, but only hesitating once. Her knuckles curl at her sides, until lifting them up to knock against the heavy wood. Light from inside peeks through the curtains.

A woman appears in the open threshold, that faint light from inside creating a halo around her figure. She looks unreal, like something straight out of a storybook. Her ethereal face just as kind as Y/n remembers. It’s the most immaculate she’s ever been. 

Y/n feels herself lose the battle with the emotions she had managed to keep on leash from just one look from her. 

With a whimper, her mouth struggle with the words. “Hi, Mum.”

***

Grace sets her up in the guest room and supplies her with a cup of tea and biscuits. As she’s setting it down on the bedside table, Y/n can’t help but take note of her appearance. It’s been nearly twenty years since she had last seen her mother, but why is that she’s never looked younger? Her eyes no longer have the eternal vacancy that had highlighted her once slack expression. 

She looks happy. 

“Thank god I did the shopping earlier this week, huh?” Grace muses, opening up a new pack of biscuits. Each word to leave her lips feels smooth against her ears. “I’ve developed a bit of a sweet tooth in my old age.” Y/n doesn’t know if she appreciates her efforts to make conversation, but it does give her time to think about what exactly she wants to say. 

They drink their tea in hushed sips, like they’re afraid that any loud slurping might cause some offence. Y/n stares down into the contents of her cup, annoyed that it’s the perfect color. A part of her had wished that she could find something to fault her with. 

“So,” Grace hums, tapping melodically on the porcelain in her hands. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Y/n barely lifts her head as her hands strangle the air with frustrated rigidness. “I’ve spent my entire life trying not to become you.” From her decision to follow her dad’s wishes, to keeping appearances for a relationship that she now knows was destined for destruction, she’d made every choice for everyone else. 

Grace doesn’t respond, but her mouth parts with a staggered breath. 

“I wanted to believe that I was happy. I wanted to do what you never did because I didn’t want to hurt the people I was supposed to love.” All the years she’d never confronted these feelings have ultimately resulted to this. “You broke us,” she says, staring her directly in the eyes. “You ruined every image I had of love.” The anxiousness that had put her through hell had to come from this. The truth is, she couldn’t break it off with Jared because she didn’t want to hurt him in the same way that her mother had hurt her dad. That’s it. She ignored every gut feeling that told her it wasn’t right because of the bitterness she felt towards her mother.   

“The choices we make aren’t genetic,” Grace says softly.

“Aren’t they, though?” she shrieks. She bounces to her feet and paces in front of the bed. “Penelope’s mother was the other woman, and now Penelope is pregnant with my fiancé’s baby! You ran away from your family because you couldn’t forget him.” 

By that, she means her mother’s new husband, the one she had left them for. It had been during her last year at university that Y/n had discovered the truth. He had been her professor for her art history class. She recognized him from a picture she had once seen in her mother’s jewelry box. She just hadn’t put two and two together until then. “And I...I can’t forget the person I’ve loved since I was eight. What makes us different, Mum?”

Grace holds her chin close to her body. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But tell me this. Why haven’t you planned your wedding?”

This causes Y/n’s pacing to cease. She stands at her mother’s knees, blinking rapidly. “How would you know anything that goes on with me?”

Her mother stands up as well. They’re about the same height.  

“I know it’ll make never make up for what I did but believe me. I’ve never stopped trying to be in your lives...even if it was from afar.” Her hand is shaking as she reaches up to cup Y/n’s cheek so she can wipe away her tears. “I was there when you won all your art shows back in school. I was there when you graduated university.” She’s crying her own tears now. “And I was excited for you when you got engaged three years ago.” 

Y/n doesn’t let herself give in. She pulls away. “It was supposed to be a long engagement.”

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?” Grace looks at her pointedly. Y/n’s bottom lip starts to quiver. Her mother grasps her by the shoulders. “Maybe that’s what makes you different from me. You stopped pretending before it was too late, you just hadn’t realized it.”

“Is that supposed to make me a good person?” Y/n challenges. 

“No,” Grace answers honestly, but she sighs with a small smile. “But it makes you a better person than me.”

***

She doesn’t recall ever falling asleep, but she can still feel her mother’s hand stroking her hair as she had laid her head on the pillow. The morning sun shines through the curtains of the unfamiliar room and greet her with slithers of light by her feet. Waking up here feels strange, but she’s experienced comfort that she hasn’t felt in so long.

The rug-lined steps make little to no sound as she makes her way downstairs. From the bottom, she can hear two voices talking in hushed tones from the kitchen. One is unmistakably her mothers, while the other is deep and manly. She isn’t sure how to make approach them, suddenly feeling self-conscious for having intruded. But soon enough, her mum catches sight of her and invites her to take the stool beside her. Y/n walks in, passing her mother’s husband, who smiles kindly at her. She had liked him as a professor before she had found about his private life.

“Good morning,” Grace says. “Lawrence’s just been to the bakery.” She pushes a box full of a variety of goodies. “Eat as much as you want.”

Y/n picks up a croissant and gingerly pulls it apart. She avoids how her mother and her husband gage in her every movement. 

“Did you sleep well?” It’s Lawrence who asks her. She nods. Lawrence and her mother share a look, and through their eyes they seem to converse. It reminds her a lot of how she and Harry had always been able to tell what the other was thinking without having to verbalize. Lawrence finishes up his cup of coffee, then circles around the island and kisses his wife on the cheek. “I’m just going to pop to the store,” he says. She catches the back of his head before he disappears. 

“I thought you said you had just done the shopping?” Y/n asks her mother. The older woman shrugs, continuing to pick at her breakfast. Oh. She sees that there’s apparently more to talk about. Y/n does in fact have a few more questions she wants to ask, if anything more than to talk to someone who knows what she’s going through. She takes a deep breath. “Are you happy?” The words feel awkward as they leave her mouth. Grace looks at her, questioningly. She nods towards the door. “With him?”

“Yes.” 

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father. 

“He’s my best friend,” Grace says dreamily. “I’ve known him all my life. Loved him about the same.” Y/n feels goosebumps startle her skin.

“So,” Y/n treads cautiously, “was he worth it?”

“There are things that I would have done differently when it came to you and your sister, given the chance,” her mother sighs, but when she looks at her with those eyes that are so full of light and what she guesses must only be love, Y/n gets it. “But otherwise I’d choose him all over again.”

***

She knocks impulsively on his front door, not caring if his new neighbors think she’s out of her mind insane. Her limbs are tight with anticipation, especially when she hears the scuffle of feet against well-polished hardwood. Harry stands in the open doorway dressed in a white t-shirt and black joggers, and an adorably confused look floating in his sleepy eyes. But when he registers her before him, it’s like he’d been hit by lightning and suddenly jolted awake.

“Has anything changed?” she asks, almost pleadingly. He just stares at her, frustrating her already exhausted nerves. She hadn’t come all this way after a rollercoaster of a night to not get an answer. “Am I...Am I still all that’s in...” And rests her hand where his heart is.

Her own heart leaps in her chest when his dimples emerge from his cheeks. He lays his own hand over hers, stepping towards her but also pulling her incredibly close. “It’s always been you.” 

And no words have ever made her cry out of shear joy. She laughs, or maybe it’s more of a wet giggle, before throwing her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a scorching kiss. Unlike their first kiss, this one is filled solely with everything they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel. He nips on her bottom lip, and her mouth parts and welcomes his tongue to explore every unchartered inch. He grasps her both her thighs and carries her to his bedroom. 

She can’t believe she’s gone this long without knowing his touch. Every movement of against her skin, and every exploration of forbidden pleasure makes her stomach coil and beg for more. He lays her down on his bed, his body hovering over hers like he’s afraid she might slip away. 

He leans in a little lower, and she gasps when she feels him hard against her hip. “We don’t have to do anything,” he gulps, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’ve been through a lot, and I just want you to know that–” but he doesn’t get to finish because she shuts him up with the fire in her eyes. She loves him for everything he is, even when he’s being selfless to a fault. 

“We’ve waited too long for this,” she breathes against his lips. “Let’s choose us.” 

A low throaty moan surges from of her as he grinds himself against her, sending currents of electrifying energy down to her aching entrance. Her mind becomes cloudier with his every caress. His hot breath against her longing flesh only intensifies her need.

“Please,” she begs, fingers working on the hem of his shirt. “I want you. God, please I want to feel you.” 

He chuckles softly as she whines, pecking her again. “Patience, love,” he teases. His lips glide down to her ear, his breath sending shivers down her inflamed body. “Show me where you want me.” 

Taking reign of his hand and guiding down the front of her front, she smirks at him. His pants become unbelievably tight as she lets him linger over her chest, her head falling back when the warmth of his hand flicks over her pebbled nipple. “You want me between your pretty little tits? Is that what my girl wants?” His girl. Nothing in this moment could sound so perfect than the words to have just left his lips. It’s enough for her to want to bring him in for another impassioned kiss, but she restrains, shaking her head mischievously as he squeezes gently on her breast. She leads him further down, his palm sliding down her abdomen. 

“Here.” She slots her fingers through the spaces between his and their tips graze the base of her dress, toying with the flimsy material until finally slipping beneath. He groans as his skin comes into contact with her pussy emanating all that delicious heat.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” She rubs against him just enough for him to feel her center through her panties, and he swears to her that he might come then and there. Wasting no time, she pulls his shirt over her head, only breaking their kiss to appreciate all the tattoos on his sculpted chest. When she’d seen them before, it had only been for a quick few seconds, and she’d been far too flustered to take anything more than a peek. But now she can’t help herself, and she lets her fingers dance across the ink, the point of her nails tracing over the edge of every design. She spends the most time on the moth, or maybe it’s a butterfly, she couldn’t say. 

All she knows is that something about it makes her feel at peace, like she’ll always be safe as long as he's there beside her. She tears her eyes away from his chest to find him looking at her as though she were everything that’s right with the world. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and she just beams, eyes looking back at him with such sincerity. 

He kisses the side of her mouth before descending along her body He takes his time, his lips pressing over every possible inch of her, leaving no surface neglected. Where his hands had been prior, he takes an erect mound in his mouth, tongue swirling around in through its covering. Each touch leaves her breathless, her back arching in intense anticipation the further down he goes. When his nose nudges at the bottom of her skirt, she lets out another frustrated whine, and he chuckles softly at how her abdomen sucks in as the stubble on his chin prickles goosebumps across her skin. 

“Please, just. . .” and the final remains of her inhibitions drain from the tips of her fingers and toes. “I want your cock inside me.” 

“Christ, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” And he tears her dress from her body and pulls her panties down her silky legs, leaving her completely bare before his eyes. From a pale green, the color of his irises darkens with a fierce and pounding desire. It sends vibrations down to her pussy and all she wants is for him to bury his face in her dripping arousal. She bites harshly on her lip once he licks between her slick folds. “So sweet,” he mutters, his lips slipping through the barriers to find her sensitive little nub. “I could just stay here forever.”

“Harry. . .” she gasps, fisting the sheets as her hips lift off the mattress. “It feels so good.” Her legs hang over his shoulders as he encourages her to ride his face until she’s begging to release all over his tongue. “Oh god, don’t stop.” 

One of his long fingers that had been drawing small little circles on the inner part of her thigh smooths over her damp skin until it forges its way into her glistening heat. The other hand moves down his own figure, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding past the waistband of his boxers. 

As the knot in her stomach twists with tremendous force, it pushes her closer and closer to the edge. He inserts another finger, the two digits piston in and out of her, working harmoniously with his skilled mouth. She screams out, her back arching to an almost impossible degree. It all becomes too much for her, bursts of light flashing behind her eyelids.  

“I’m gonna come,” she moans, cheek pressed deep into the pillow, eyes shut tightly to welcome the stars as she lets go with cacophonous convulsions. 

“That’s my good girl, come all over my tongue. That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He climbs back up her body, a content smile awaiting him when their faces become level with each other. Another exchange of ardent kisses, and she feels herself tingle at the taste of her on his lips. Even after her orgasm, she already craves for another, but this time she wants nothing more but to feel him stuffed inside of her. She wraps a leg around his hip, the edge of her foot pressed against the side of his ass as she presses her core into his bulge. 

“I need to be inside of you.” He leaps off the bed to push off the last pieces of constrictive clothing. His cock springs free, flushed red at the tip and just desperate for her amorous touch. 

And he’s big, she had always had an inkling, but to see it in the flesh is a whole new sensation quivering between her thighs. “It’s so big,” her thoughts become vocalized. 

With his knees back onto the bed, she grabs his shoulders and pulls him down lower, his elbows planking on either side of her. “Feel how hard I am for you?” He hisses as her warm hand wraps around him, her thumb swiping along a dribble of precum. She lathers him in his own arousal. “Think you can handle my cock?” 

She’s completely in awe, and her mind runs untamed with fantasies of how it would feel hitting that special spot deep in her cunt, every rigid vein carving its impression in her walls. “You know I can,” she dares him. 

“Fuck.” He kisses her deeply, his hand taking ahold of his cock and glazing it with the remnants of her last climax and gliding just between her wet folds.  “One last time–” he swallows hard as he pulls away from his lips, “–are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I...”

Their eyes meet, a wordless understanding worth more than any spoken language as she cups his cheeks. 

The entire length of him slides into her tight hole until he bottoms out, his balls pressing against her taut ass. She feels undeniably full, never having experienced such exhilaration in her life as Harry’s bare cock stretches her out completely. 

“Just slid right in,” he grunts, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He bites down and sucks greedily on the spot until he’s made his mark. She gasps in mild pain, but it feels too good to know that she can finally be his. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in with ease, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her walls flutter around him. “It feels like you were made for me” She feels marvelously tight, squeezing him for all he’s worth. All she can do is nod, her voice caught in her throat as his thrusts become harder and faster.  “It’s all mine now, your pussy, your lips. You’re all mine.” 

“I’m yours, all yours, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “God, your big cock feels so good in my tight pussy.” Nails dig into his back as they run down and carve crescents into his flexed and sweaty muscles. 

They move flawlessly in sync as she rises up to greet his every thrust with just as much excitement and fervor. Both their bodies are on fire, a pressure building up at their very core and threatening to unravel at any moment. His balls tighten, and he knows he won’t last for much longer. He looks down between them, his cock completely soaked with her with the most sinful sounds resonating whenever he pushes in and out of her delightful heat. “I love you,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers indenting into the plush of her hips. He loses any sense of rhythm he might have started out with, his movements becoming more and more urgent as he chases after his high. 

“I love you.” Her second orgasm fast approaches, she feels it thrill every one of her nerves as though currents of electricity were running through her veins. She’s so close, and her hand slips between their sweaty chests to rub desperately on her clit. Her head is spinning with an aspiration to reach the brink of ecstasy. 

“Come all over my cock,” he pleads as he pushes into her with incredible force. “Want to feel you come around me.”

And that’s it for her. A wave of pleasure crashes over her and she cries out with a high-pitched moan. Her legs hugging him so tightly that he barely manages to move. She rides it out, rolling her hips to feel him continuously poke that special spot. Soon enough, her mind is on a cloud, the rest of her body soaking up the bliss of the moment.

His movements only become more erratic, and the breath leaves her body once he releases inside of her. Hot white ribbons shoot out and paint her walls with the image of a sensational love. It warms her center, her lips turning up in a lazy smile as he remains within her even after the final drop has left his tip. Once they’re heaving chests calm to a natural pace, he collapses on top of her, arms willing their way between her and the mattress to gather her into a tender embrace. She scratches the back of his head and sighs contently.  

“To think we could’ve been doing that for,” and she counts the years on each one of her fingers.

Harry chuckles in between her breasts, then reaches up and plants a quick but sweet kiss to her lips. “How long are you going to be holding onto that one?” She pretends to think, her mouth quirking to the side as her brows furrow in contemplation. “Until we make up for all that wasted time.” 

***

“I got you something.” She looks up at him, her body still wrapped in his arms as they lay naked in his bed. Memories of what feels like another life flip through her head.

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?” 

Smiling, she kisses enthusiastically and nods her head. He gets up, and she has to stop herself from frowning when they lose all contact. She sinks into the sheets and waits impatiently for him to come back. Listening to him rummage through his closet, then to the growling of her tummy–and she makes a quick mental note to ask him to order something for them in a while––she tries to relive every detail from the last few hours in her head. She didn’t know that sex was supposed to feel so good.

“You told me that you hadn’t drawn in almost ten years,” he states, making his way back to the bed, but this time, with a bag clutched in his hands. He places it in her lap, then slips between her and the headboard, arms going back to their initial position. “Maybe it’s time you started back up.”

Y/n opens the enclosed wrappings. Inside the bag is a new sketchbook and a carton of 9H pencils. She carefully grazes her fingers above them. There’s a feeling in her chest, like she’s just been reunited with an old friend. 

“But what would I even draw?” She’d lost all sight of that part of her life, and it seems unlikely that those creative juices will just come trickling back to her now. 

Harry kisses the side of her head, and she leans into him easily.

“Whatever inspires you.” 

It’s just that easy. She closes her eyes and reflects on what has always made her feel any bit positive. Ava and her bluntness; her dad and his sense of duty to his family; Nan and Gramps and their playful bickering; Nan and her proclivity for gossip; Gramps and his hatred for ties. All of them had been a comfort to her, even when she hadn’t realized it. They were part of what had kept her afloat.

Feeling Harry’s heartbeat press up against her back, she knows that she’ll never have to worry about drowning. She opens her sketchbook to its first clean page and lets herself be happy. 

***

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Jared says, offering her a modest grin. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t want to.” Penny nods beside him. Jared had texted her and asked if she would meet them for lunch, so that they could talk. At first, Y/n didn’t think that necessary. What was the point when it was all out in the open now? But with some convincing from Harry, she realized that she had to confront this.

“There’s no moving on if we don’t talk about it.” Y/n takes the seat across from Penny. She looks at the girl she’d consider a sister, studying her rounded and healthier features. Pregnancy looks good on her. “You look good.” 

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

They talk about everything, even the stuff that feels like it should hurt. But it doesn’t. Clarity exists where it hadn’t before. She tells them that about Harry, and apparently it isn’t much of a shock to anyone, which shocks her. Jared then admits to having had all these doubts about their relationship but had stuck through it because of his own insecurities. That had had hit close to home for Y/n. It’s somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t been the only one who felt that what they had was temperamental. 

“You were there for me when I was at my worst, and for that, I’ll always love you,” Jared sighs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But...”

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

He nods sadly, pulling back. His other arm is around Penny’s chair, and Y/n can see his fingers playing with the ends of her ponytail. 

Penny must notice this, and she quickly shrugs him away. “Sorry,” she mutters.  

Y/n shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she waves it off. “This was good. At least now we can all carry on with our lives.” She gets out of her chair. “Good luck,” she says to the both of them. Then she looks directly at Penny. “I know you’re worried about making all the same mistakes as your mum, but...” she smiles, “someone said to me that mistakes aren’t genetic. I know you. And I know how much you love your baby. Just promise me you’ll be there for her.”

With that she turns towards the exit. Before she can get far, however, she feels a hand grab her own. She looks back, and it’s Penny. Her eyes are teary, and her chest lifts erratically. “Do you think that...” she swallows, “...that you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Do I still get to be called auntie?” 

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

Y/n touches her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Then, one day.”

She walks out of there feeling completely at peace with herself.

***

Two Years Later

The newest exhibit proves to be a hit. It’s smaller than its predecessors, this time only containing the work from a single artist. 

She and Harry walk hand-in-hand, greeting all of guests and just enjoying each other’s company. Gramps isn’t moping as much as he usually does, and she thinks it’s because Nan’s bought him a clip-on tie that doesn’t strangle him around the neck. Ava and Nan are gossiping with some potential investors, while her dad tries to apologize on their behalf. 

On the other side, her mum and Lawrence discuss color theory in relation to one of the spotlight pieces. She catches a glimpse of the civility between her parents when they catch each other’s eyes from across the room. 

“I think it’s the gallery’s best showcase yet,” Harry tells her and kisses her on the lips. “Really, I don’t see how anything might top this.”

Y/n laughs. “You’re just trying to get laid.”

Harry wags his eyebrows. “Is it working?” She doesn’t need to give him an answer with words, so instead, she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket and their lips meet in another sweet kiss. 

They stop in front of the piece in the very back, the one that’s drawn in the most viewers. They squeeze through the polluted crowd until they’re close enough to the front. He wraps his arms around her, and they both admire its beauty. 

Two kids laid out on the grass; eyes closed with content smiles on their faces. The sky above them, a product of their combined imaginations as well as the excitement of hopes and dreams. 

Below the canvas is a placcard with the painting’s information. 

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 6

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin was tired of being scolded and threatened. He’d been able to brush it off at first, but in the end it hadn’t taken all that long for him to lose the willpower to be insubordinate.

It wasn’t as if he was...broken or whatever. He wouldn’t describe himself as too afraid to speak altogether. He just...well he just needed a break. Trying to outmatch a giant was exhausting. Plus, Gavin was beginning to wonder whether it was really worth it. Sure it gave him some kind of sense of personal pride and satisfaction, but surely it wasn’t worth getting himself nearly pulverized by an enormous hand.

“This is such a shit storm,” Gavin moaned internally. Leave it to him to make his absolute mess of a situation somehow even worse.

As tempted as he was to glance up at Rael to try and get a read on his current mood, Gavin resisted. If he was going to be quiet, he was going to do it in the most pouty way possible. He’d act almost as if the alteon didn’t exist--which was pretty difficult considering he was literally attached to the guy, but whatever.

For about fifteen minutes the two of them went on in complete silence. Gavin’s urge to run his mouth was growing more and more intense, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. Just when he thought for sure he’d blurt something out, Rael’s walking suddenly took a sudden turn.

Gavin lifted his gaze to peer out through iron bars. He was met with the sight of what to Rael was probably no more than a stream, but to Gavin looked like a terrifying torrent of fast running water. He had never been particularly afraid of water, his parents had forced him to take swim lessons when he was eight after all. However, literal giant sized bodies of water were quite different from the chlorine filled pool at the local YMCA.

Before Gavin could argue with himself about whether or not he should ask Rael what he was doing, a pair of giant hands swooped into view. In a matter of moments, the cage was once again unhooked from Rael’s belt. “What’s happening?” The words flew out of Gavin’s mouth before he could stop them. So much for the silent treatment.

“I figured you wouldn’t like to dangle over the water while I’m getting a drink,” Rael responded. Gavin tightened his grip on the bars of his cage as his captor moved to set the thing down on a nearby rock.

Of course Gavin wasn’t going to say so to Rael, but he was grateful to not have to go anywhere near that stream. Plus, he was happy for any chance to be on solid ground and not hanging from a giant's belt.

“That can’t be all that sanitary,” Gavin thought to himself as he observed Rael sipping the stream water from a cupped hand. Although the water was probably moving fast enough for it to be considered safe, Gavin still didn’t trust water that fish could pee in.

It was at that moment that a deep rumbling caused Gavin’s cage to shudder slightly. The quakes were repetitive and had a rhythm similar to Rael’s footsteps. However, the tremors couldn’t have been caused by Rael, because he was still leaning over the creek.

A feeling of dread began to rise up in Gavin, but before he could call out to Rael, his cage was snatched up into the air. He was thrown around harshly from the movements that were somehow even sharper and more violent than Rael’s. When the tumultuous experience came to an abrupt halt, Gavin looked up to see the face of a giant stranger staring in at him.

-

While the weather was fairly pleasant, without any uncomfortable humidity, Rael had found himself feeling quite parched. Perhaps he’d dried out his throat from shouting at the human. He supposed it would serve him right for losing his temper. Either way, Rael decided a quick stop at a nearby stream to get a drink wouldn’t hurt. Gavin was still being quiet and well behaved, which continued to unsettle Rael, but at least it meant he wouldn’t kick up any kind of fuss if they stopped for a moment.

After setting the cage and its occupant aside, Rael went to scoop up some handfuls of water. The cool, clear water was quick to soothe Rael’s throat. He was in the middle of taking a nice long sip when he heard a sudden commotion coming from behind him.

He whipped around to see two alteons, a man and a woman. The woman’s skin was a touch lighter than Rael’s own. Her curly auburn hair was cut short above her shoulders, and she was dressed in makeshift armor, with a sword hanging from a sheath at her hip. The man’s skin was tan, but the lack of melanin suggested he hailed from a different region from that which they resided in. His dark brown hair was closely cropped, and he had a distinct scar underneath his right eye. However, what stood out most to Rael about the man was the fact that he was currently holding Gavin’s cage in his hand.

Rael had failed to bring a sword with him on this assignment, primarily because he hadn’t expected to need it when dealing with humans. Aside from that, the woods surrounding Ostrad were considered to be quite safe due to the relentless patrols the Emperor sent out. It was for this reason that Rael had felt fairly confident he wouldn’t have to worry about encountering any kind of brigands or ruffians. “This really isn’t my day,” he sighed internally.

Catching sight of Gavin cowering inside his cage, faced with a giant stranger whose intentions were unknown to him, Rael felt an unexpected wave of sympathy. Those tiny hazel eyes stared back at Rael in desperation, as if silently begging him to come to his aid.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the dark haired man asked in amusement as he observed the human in his grasp. “Don’t tell me this is a real life human?”

While the man seemed unfazed by Rael’s presence, his companion didn’t appear to feel the same way. She stood a ways back, eyeing Rael nervously. Chances were, she suspected he had some kind of affiliation with the palace despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing the official Imperial emblem or colors.

“Damn, when people said they were tiny, I didn’t think they meant this tiny,” the thug mused, now holding Gavin’s cage at eye level so he could get a closer look. “I’ve seen rats bigger than this!”

While Rael didn’t have a real weapon on him, he did have a small dagger strapped to the back of his belt. Though he was itching to make a grab for it, he held back. There was a chance he could handle the situation without threat of violence. Already, the woman clearly didn’t seem eager for a fight with him.

“Excuse me, but that human is under the protection of his majesty the Emperor,” Rael stated coldly, taking a few slow steps closer to the man. He was pleased to see the smirk the brigand was wearing waver slightly as he realized exactly what he was interfering with.

“You’re a member of the Imperial Guard,” the woman surmised, speaking up for the first time.

The man glanced back at his partner briefly before returning his gaze to Rael. He had a smile on his face, but it was stiff and almost forced. He no doubt was aware that he was in a precarious situation, dealing with the Imperial Guard, but was attempting to put on a confident facade. “Ah, I guess it makes sense to only send one guard if all you’re guarding is this little thing,” he remarked.

Rael narrowed his eyes. It was obvious the man was fishing for information, trying to determine whether or not there were other soldiers lurking around. If he thought he and his partner could take Rael, then he would likely try to make off with Gavin. A human would sell for a hefty sum on the black market. Aletons would probably even pay just to catch a glimpse of a real life human.

“If you’re intending on attempting to take that human, I would suggest you rethink,” Rael said darkly. “Even if you manage to overcome me, you will soon have the entirety of the Emperor’s army pursuing you.” He wouldn’t pretend to have backup hidden somewhere in the trees, that was a bluff that could easily fall short. Instead, he would once again make fear his tool. “Once you’re caught, your punishment will undoubtedly be death.”

There was no need for Rael to lie. Within recent years, death had become less and less prevalent as a punishment with the Emperor. However, it was still utilized in extreme cases, such as treason. Knowing how cautious the Emperor was with human-alteon relations, Rael could only assume he would consider kidnapping a human to be treasonous.

Fear instantly flashed across the curly-haired woman’s face. She took a small step back, as if to distance herself from the entire situation. Meanwhile, her companion appeared to have become provoked by Rael’s words. An angry scowl replaced the sly one he had been wearing, and he was clutching Gavin’s cage in what seemed to be a possessive manner. “As if you have any right to be possessive over him,” Rael growled mentally.

“If we kill you, no one will have any idea who nabbed the little rat,” the man hissed, shaking the cage in a way that made Rael strangely furious.

-

Gavin had thought the way Rael handled him was about as bad as it could get. It really sucked being proven wrong. He didn’t know who the hell this random alteon that had grabbed him was, but he was somehow worse than Rael, which was quite the feat.

Ever since being snatched up, Gavin had no doubt developed a countless number of bruises as a result of this man’s rough treatment. It was like he didn’t even take into account that there was a living, breathing person inside. “There’s not going to be a living, breathing person inside for much longer if this doesn’t let up,” Gavin thought as he was again thrown against the bars by a violent shake from his new captor.

Rael seemed to be attempting to talk the man down, though of course he could only assume as much considering they were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. Whatever it was was taking much too long for Gavin’s liking. He couldn’t believe he actually wanted to be back in Rael’s hands. But at this point, anything seemed better than being jerked around like some kind of toy. The lesser of two evils and all that.

As much as Gavin wanted to shout out obscenities at the alteon, he managed to bite his tongue. Rael seemed like he knew what he was doing, and Gavin didn’t want to screw it up by saying something stupid. His willpower really was being severely tested today.

Gavin heard someone shout something. The voice sounded feminine, and though he couldn’t see nor understand the alteon woman, he could hear the urgency in her voice.

Gavin’s captor, whom he had gathered was named “Kaydin”, jostled the cage. Most of what the man was saying went right over Gavin’s head, but he did catch him rubbing his fingers together in a money gesture. It was then that Gavin realized what exactly these people wanted him for. He had taken a lot of hits to his ego in the last couple hours, but being treated as merchandise to sell was really doing a number.

Why exactly alteons would spend money buying a human was beyond him. All the possibilities that flashed through his mind made him feel even more sick to his stomach than he already did thanks to Kaydin’s manhandling.

The woman shot back an angry retort, which was quickly followed by the sound of retreating footsteps that announced her departure. This left only Kaydin to face off against Rael.

Kaydin spat out more vicious words. Gavin glanced up to see sweat droplets beginning to form on the giant’s forehead. The guy knew he was in trouble.

Rael spoke up in his own language. It was still strange for Gavin to hear. Rael’s English was so good, he sometimes forgot it wasn’t his native tongue.

Gavin stared up at Kaydin’s face, trying to determine what his next move would be based on his facial expressions. He didn’t know what Rael had said, but he could only hope it had been convincing.

If it came down to it, he felt fairly confident that a trained soldier like Rael would win in a fight against this man who seemed to be the alteon equivalent of a mugger. The only problem was, Gavin wasn’t sure he’d survive being caught in the middle of a clash of giants.

[anonniemousefics]

Can we please get more tfota scenes from cardan's pov? Maybe something from qon this time 🙈

Happy New Year! ♥️🥂

It’s so great you guys are enjoying these Cardan POV pieces! This one sort of follows His Monstrous Bride and this other little continuation -- it’s taken from Chapter 18 of The Queen of Nothing when Jude and Cardan talk about her exile before meeting with the Living Council. 

I don’t have a title for it -- let’s just call it His Monstrous Bride Part II. lol

(Also a shameless plug for my ongoing fic The Nine Terrifying Moons, which will feature a Cardan POV chapter coming soon. Wheeeee!)

-----------------------------------------------

Cardan is well versed at hiding his emotions, but it doesn’t hurt to look the part. And the day that his High Queen is finally awakening, once again restored to Elfhame, is a day to dress for a very specific kind of battle. Jude has ignored him for months – now he must be unignorable. He has gold along his cheekbones and caps like gold knives at the tips of his ears. Jude likes knives after all.

He’s flanked by his guards at her door. (Their door? He’s unused to sharing.) The Living Council means to interrupt her convalescence, and he’ll have none of it. He’s there to make sure she is fit and ready, and he doesn’t have to do more than that, he tells himself. His envoy is at his sides at all times now, and still, in this moment, some part of him wishes there were more of them. Wishes he could shrink back from what may lie ahead.

“Your Highness?” His guards are waiting for him to do something. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been hesitating.

It’s just… it’s been months of endless rejection, though he knows now she never received his letters, but still…he’s not sure he can take one more. And his heart is still cracked and raw from her most recent brush with death.

He steels himself. And knocks at the door.

It’s Oak who answers with an innocent smile, which is something of a relief. With Oak around, Jude’s less likely to become stabby.

Although, at least if she’s stabbing him, she’s no longer ignoring him. And Cardan really can’t stand one more minute of being ignored by Jude Duarte.

She’s there now, and the sight of her standing catches him right in the chest. The last time he’d clapped eyes on her, she was bleeding all over his spider-silk sheets. He’d cleaned her blood with his own two hands, but now she’s upright and clear-eyed, dressed in a foreboding black number with silver at her collar and cuffs. Her auburn hair has been braided like a crown, and with smoky traces of rose around her eyes, she looks deadly and formidable once more.

It’s such a welcome sight. He has never been so thrilled to see her. And that’s such a treacherous and terrifying notion, since he thinks it’s very likely she’s might smack him in the near future if he can’t navigate the mess of crossed wires between them.

The thrill lasts only a moment, because then his stomach gives a lurch. He’s just realized that all of her sisters are there, too. And they’re all staring at him. And he’s been staring right back.

Suddenly, Cardan’s on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

“Walk with me,” he finally tells Jude, eager to get away from so many Duarte eyes.

“Of course.” Jude’s brown eyes in particular seem uncharacteristically wide and confused.

Vivienne catches Jude’s hand before she can join him.

“You’re not well enough,” she objects. As if Cardan can’t take care of her. As if he hadn’t cleaned up her blood himself.

“The Living Council is eager to speak with her,” he says instead. Jude should be proud of how he’s learned to curb his tongue in her absence.

“The only danger anyone has ever been in at a Council meeting is of being bored to death,” Jude is reassuring her family, before stepping away, the guards folding in around them.

Cardan offers her his arm – he wants to keep her close, and he wants Vivienne to take note. It is different now, and he wants them all to see. Jude is cared for here.

He wants to take his time with her at his arm as they swap neutral business about the Roach, about the Bomb, about Madoc, but he can hardly even look at her. His head is full of visions of those nights he wrote to her again and again, outright begging in the end, and then lying awake, alone, certain his agony would be never-ending. Gods above, he’d even written once that his heart was hers, buried with her in the soil of the mortal world -- and she’d sent no reply. And though he knows now it’s because she hadn’t even received it, he’s still completely unsure of how to act.

It’s extremely unsettling how normal Jude seems in this moment. As if no time has passed at all.

And there are still so many eyes on them. Courtiers bobbing their heads as they pass. The guards just an arm’s length away. This is no place to try to sort through what he had written to her, what she needed to know. So maybe he just won’t, he thinks. Maybe it can just be like this for an eternity and he can go back to drinking away his feelings after this Council meeting. Maybe this is the most he should hope for.

But then, Jude says: “I need to talk to you.”

And his heart plummets to his guts. He’s not sure he can keep the dread off his face.

“It won’t take long,” Jude says, which is maybe worse. It means it’s simple: she wants to end their marriage. She wants to return to the mortal world. Of course she does.

But then, she says: “Whatever your scheme is, whatever you are planning to hold over me, you might as well tell me now, before we’re in front of the whole Council. Make your threats. Do your worst.”  

What? What the bleeding skies is she talking about? This is such a mess he’s made. And it is, perhaps, the first mess he’s ever truly cared to clean up.

Cardan turns them away toward a corridor to the outdoors.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do need to talk.”

He steers them for the royal rose garden, where he knows the guards will stop at the gate and leave them alone. He has only a few steps down a path of shimmering quartz stairs among the roses to decide exactly what parts of his heart he’s willing to reveal today. What exactly won’t hurt so terribly much should she throw it all back in his face.

“I assume you weren’t actually trying to shoot me,” he says, choosing first the obvious and easiest. “Since the note was in your handwriting.”

“Madoc sent the Ghost--” Jude starts, but then stops. Softens. “I thought that there was going to be an attempt on your life.”

This does not mean that she cares for you, he has to remind himself. He still doesn’t want to look at her. The memory of perceived rejection is still too strong, still too bitter.

But he’s not going to live with the regrets he’d drowned in when she’d nearly died. He tries to choose his next words carefully.

“It was terrifying,” he admits, feigning interest in a nearby bush of jet black roses, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you.” He swallows back the memories, threatening the periphery of his mind. “And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.”  

“Mortals are fragile,” Jude shrugs him off. She doesn’t get it.

“Not you,” he sighs. “You never break.”

There. Can that be enough? He’s made it fairly obvious now, hasn’t he? Surely she gets it now – he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to see her hurt. Witnessing it was the worst thing he’s ever seen. Because he cares for her.

If he has to spell it out, it might kill him. So, he just waits for what she has to say to that.

Jude’s looking at the roses, too, when he glances at her, her thick lashes lowered.

“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” she says, and oh, please, gods, not this. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”

Cardan wants to vomit. No, he needs to vomit. If his nervous stomach would cooperate and vomit everywhere, he could still get away from this with a shred of dignity.

He clasps his hands behind his back so she can’t see how they shake, his smile telling the lies that the rest of him can’t. That he is cool and unaffected, not at all hopelessly in love with the mortal girl in front of him.

“Pleading, mostly.” He tries to say it like it’s a joke. “Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” Maybe that little bit of tantalizing will flatter her.

It doesn’t. Actually, he’s not sure Jude can be flattered. She closes her eyes shut in no small amount of frustration.

“Stop playing games,” she growls. “You sent me into exile.”

“Yes. That.” Right, of course she doesn’t love that he’s beating around the bush. If only he could help it. He’s so goddamn nervous. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”

The glare she throws him is so very Jude, though he loves it less when it’s directed at him.

“Of course it was a trick,” she seethes. “Wasn’t that what you said in return?”

Well, this is rich.

“But that’s what you do. You trick people.” Though Cardan’s starting to realize just how wrong he’s been about the things Jude enjoys. “I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”

“What?” Jude looks like she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole. He might even deserve it.

He needs to put an end to this nightmare. There’s still a miniscule chance she’ll find some part of it amusing.

“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he points out. Surely, the context will help his case. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over.”

But Jude’s face is unchanged. He isn’t seriously this good at trickery, is he?

“Think of it,” he presses, hoping she’ll follow along. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” Any minute now. Any minute.

“Pardoned by the crown,” he repeats to her blank stare. Right, so, this game isn’t funny anymore.

“Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen,” he explains, watching her eyes grow wider, wilder. “You could have returned anytime you wanted.”

When he’d first envisioned her figuring out the riddle, he’d expected probably a punch in the arm, maybe she would have even drawn her blade again. That would have been delightful. He’d thought about trembling beneath her again, about that searing look she got in her eye just before devouring his lips. That would have been – gods. He might have considered letting her murder more of his brothers to have that again.

But what is happening now is decidedly the opposite. Jude’s breath is quickening, her face flushing, and in the air between them, Cardan feels a rift cracking wider. He hasn’t played a trick – he’s done something horrible.

When Jude begins to back away from him, he thinks back to what it felt like to find Nicasia with Locke. What Jude’s face is doing now – that is what his heart had done then. She is recoiling from him. Jude Duarte is recoiling from him, because he has hurt her.

He honestly had not thought it was possible. He honestly had not thought himself capable. He honestly had not thought she cared enough.

She whirls then and marches away from him, and he has never hated himself more. Stop her, he thinks, but he’s still stunned. If he’d known she cared…

Stop her!

He runs after her. She has to know he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known. She has to know he will fight to keep her now that he knows. But when he seizes her arm, she hauls around and slaps him, hard enough to turn his face.

It’s not the worst hit he’s taken, not by a long shot, but its sting is entirely different. There’s something fiery in her eyes, and, for the first time, he’s aware that he is not the only one who has been in agony these long months. Oh, he would undo it all now if he could. He would pull her in and kiss her over and over until they both stopped hurting.

Except she still looks murderous. Getting close to her face is probably not a good idea if he doesn’t want to be bitten. (He does kind of want to be bitten, just…in a very different scenario.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, carefully, and his hand finds hers. To his great surprise, she lets their fingers lace together, and his heart seizes with a wild hope. It does not mean she loves you, he thinks. He fumbles. “No, it’s not that, not exactly. I didn’t think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.”

“And did you like it?” Jude asks, narrowing her eyes.

His cheek is hot from the slap of her hand, and now with shame. Because how is he supposed to answer that? He didn’t hate being more powerful for once. He didn’t hate being the one with the answer to the riddle.

“Well, I was hurt.” He’s hesitated too long, and now Jude’s pressing on. “And yes, you scare me.”

Cardan finds himself taking in her full face then, the one that has always seemed so defiant and fearless and headstrong.

“You’ve always scared me,” Jude is saying, and this is what almost undoes him. She repeats it, telling him again and again each moment she had been afraid of him, and with each one, his mind bursts a little more. This doesn’t seem real. “And I am scared of you now,” she concludes, that defiant gleam in her eye til the end.

Cardan is speechless. And Cardan’s never speechless.

There was a time when he enjoyed playing a villain in her heroic story line, but she wasn’t supposed to be truly afraid of him. She was supposed to vanquish him and make him beg for her kindness. (And he would now. He really would.)

(Maybe he will.)

“You despised me,” Jude reminds him, because he does need reminding. He’s not sure now if he ever really did. “When you said you wanted me, it felt like the world had turned upside down. But sending me into exile, that made sense. That was an entirely right-side-up Cardan move. And I hated myself for not seeing it coming. And I hate myself for not seeing what you’re going to do to me next.”

At that, Cardan closes his eyes. Hopelessness is threatening to overtake him. Fear has created this monster before him, the one who irrevocably holds his heart. Is it possible to unmake such a curse? He’s certainly been unable to find a cure for his own fear, lifelong coward that he is.

When she’d first returned and his heart was freshly cracked, he’d thought back to a fairy story about a boy cursed with a heart of stone and the monster he took as his bride. It had been patience and fearlessness that had won over the monster in the end – something the boy had managed only because of his stony heart.

So, Cardan thinks of stones then. Of pulling together all his cracked and raw edges. Of being impenetrable and solid and fearless. He thinks of doing what needs to be done. He needs her, for so many things, and she must know that. Perhaps it is folly to wish for anything more than simply averting a crisis.

But he can’t manage it if he’s looking at her. He releases her hand and turns away.

“I can see why you thought what you did,” he says at last. “I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”

Patience. Fearlessness. Deep breath.

“You may recall that I did not want to be High King. And that you did not consult me before plopping this crown on my head. You may further recollect that Balekin didn’t want me to keep the title and that the Living Council never took a real shine to me.

“There was a prophecy given when I was born. Usually Baphen is uselessly vague, but in this case, he made it clear that should I rule, I would make a very poor king.” It hurts more than he thought it would to say it out loud. “The destruction of the crown, the ruination of the throne – a lot of dramatic language.”

He has to be cavalier about it; it stings too much otherwise. It’s been the bane of his existence, this prophecy. It is the reason his entire childhood was filled with nothing but dismissal and cruelty. It’s the very, very low standard he’s spent his whole life trying not to meet. The best his family had ever hoped for from him was his complete and utter disappearance – and he’d failed to do even that.

He turns back to Jude. Patience. Fearlessness. He has so much more to say. He has so much more he wants to be than this. Deep breath.

“When you forced me into working for the Court of Shadows, I never thought of the things I could do – frightening people, charming people – as talents, no less ones that might be valuable. But you did. You showed me how to use them to be useful. I never minded being a minor villain, but it’s possible I might have grown into something else, a High King as monstrous as Dain. And if I did – if I fulfilled that prophecy, I ought to be stopped. And I believe that you would stop me.”

Jude sputters at that, blinking hard.

“Stop you?” she echoes. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“Good.” And he means it. To die by Jude’s hand would be a dream. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side,” and just for good measure, just in case she still isn’t getting it: “As my queen.”

But he can’t read the expression on Jude’s face when he says it – if it brings her joy, if it brings her more distress. He’s not sure what else he could have said to make it any more clear. And now her silence is threatening to eat him alive. This reeks of the beginnings of yet another rejection.

He smiles at her, instinctively, a last ditch effort to make this even slightly less awkward.

“But now that you’re High Queen and back in charge, I won’t be doing anything of consequence anyway,” he promises. “If I destroy the crown and ruin the throne, it will only be through neglect.”

He wants her to smile back. To roll her eyes at him and act like she isn’t amused when she so clearly is. He’s missed that, oh, how he’s missed that.

He gets all that and more when she blurts out a laugh.

“So that’s your excuse for not doing any of the work?” She quirks an eyebrow, and it makes his heart swell. They’re smiling together again. He’d needed that, too, more than he’d realized. “You must be draped in decadence at all times because if you aren’t kept busy, you might fulfill some half-baked prophecy.”

“Exactly,” he says. Exactly… It’s more true than he wants it to be. His smile fades. And Jude is looking more tired than he’s comfortable with. He hopes he has not pushed her too hard. He touches her arm, gently, not thinking. Her gaze catches his, soft and warm. He finds himself leaning in…

“Would you like me to inform the Council that you will see them another time?” he asks. “It will be a novelty to have me make your excuses.”

But Jude is stalwart and determined as ever. He expected nothing less.

He pulls back. She does not need him. Not like he needs her.

“No, I’m ready,” she says.

How he wishes he could say the same.

-----------

Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes, 

[nebulablakemurphy]

Safe House

Fred Weasley x Muggleborn!Reader

Requested by the lovely @wand3ringr0s3 I hope you like it! 💕

Summary: Y/N goes into hiding with the Weasleys and misses the life you had before.

Request: Hello! I love your fics so much. I saw your thing about comfort fics and honestly I’m really not doing to great recently. If you don’t mind could I request a Fred Weasley x reader fic with mental/emotional comfort. This whole COVID situation has caused me a lot of stress lol. Also family and school ain’t helping. You can decide what the plot is :) Thank you so much <3

Words: 1k+

You can’t recall the hour, it must have been sometime in the early evening. Fred had insisted you two be the last on the dance floor at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. You remember the feeling, the crisp summer air. You remember where you were standing, who you were looking at, the champagne flute you were holding in your hands. The day that life as you knew it, skittered to a halt.

News that the ministry had fallen didn’t come as a total surprise. There’d been corruption within it for years. Mr. Weasley entrusted you with that information, once you were of age. They’d always treated you like family, even after a rather short lived break up between Fred and yourself.

Ron, Harry and Hermione disappeared, into thin air. Death eaters materializing, from all directions. Fred pushing you behind him, prepared for battle. Eventually abandoning the burrow.

You remember the dress, your favorite color; the dress that took his breath away. The material tattered and torn, when you finally reach the designated safe house.

Now, everyday is nearly the same. You wake up, in the bed you share with Fred. He’s either fast asleep, or some nights, you suspect he hasn’t slept at all. If you’re both feeling up to it, you’ll make love. Taking the small bit of comfort the other has to offer. You shower and ready for the day, then head down for breakfast, going through the motions.

The radio stays on, the only assurance that life exists, outside your tiny bubble. Mr. Weasley listens to the static, crackling, voices nonstop. Mrs. Weasley doesn’t like to hear it at all. That was the difference between them, the one who wants to know, and the one who can’t bear to.

Ginny leaves for Hogwarts in the fall, part of you envies her. The larger part is worried, it’s supposed to be safer there. You pray it is.

Your parents are muggles, they don’t understand, not really. You tell yourself it’s best that they don’t. Even when your extended family voices their concern because you ‘dropped out of school.’ In their minds, you’d run off to live with your boyfriend and work a dead end job.

Fred keeps your spirits up, keeps you grounded, centered and safe. Although he’s clearly struggling himself. His mind is beautiful; bursting with ideas, that have no where to go.

You want to help, but it’s impossible when you’re drowning in...this. Whatever this is.

“Good morning.” Fred greets you, snuggling against your back. His cool feet brush over the arch of your own.

“Good morning,” you yawn, lazily toying with the fingers that are draped over your waist.

“Planning on getting up anytime soon, lazy bones?” He hums.

“What’s the point?” You murmur, turning your face farther into the pillow.

“Hey now, don’t go talking like that!” Fred shifts his weight to his elbow. Trying to get a better look at you. “You’ll bruise my ego. Spending time with me is the point.”

“But I can spend time with you here.” You point out.

“The family driving you mental, after all?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“It’s hard to explain.” You purse your lips. “My body is rested, my mind is tired, and it makes me feel like I’m going to come out of my skin.”

Fred nods, “here I thought it was just me.”

“Do you...feel it too?” You wonder, turning over to face him.

“Every bloody day!” His wide eyes find yours. “We’re locked up here, Gin and Ron are out there. Your family’s out there, Hermione, Harry, all of our friends. Diagon Alley‘s been taken over by death eaters, the ministry has it out for muggleborns; and Mum! I love the woman dearly, but all she does nowadays is feed us. I’m trying to keep my figure here.”

“Your figure is fine,” you manage a smile. “Mine on the other hand-“

“You’re beautiful, just as you are,” Fred quiets you. “Truth is, it’s you that’s keeping me going. Not knowing how long we’ll be here is the worst of it. Can’t even count down properly, there’s no end in sight.”

That was part of it, the uncertainty of when it would be safe to leave. The yearning for what was; what might never be. “I just want to wake up the morning before Bill and Fleur’s wedding. I want to have that feeling again. I want to have hope.”

He sighs, deeply, “you will have that feeling again. You’ll be surrounded by your family, all of our friends. The sun will shine so brightly, you’ll need to block it from your eyes. The wind rustles the tree branches, and all the birds fly low, chirping just for you.”

“They better not poo on me.” You crack a grin.

“It’s good luck, sweetheart.” Fred laughs. “I only wish you told me sooner.”

“Seems wrong to complain when people are dying.” You confess, twisting a lock of red hair around your finger.

“It’s never wrong to feel the way you feel. Suffering isn’t a contest,” Fred mutters.

“I couldn’t manage this without you.” You sigh, he always knows what to say.

“You give me too much credit. You can weather any storm, all on your own. You’re resilient and brilliant and strong. When you put your mind to it, anything you want is as good as yours.” His eyes shine brightly, full of renewed enthusiasm.

“I want you.” You still can’t imagine going it alone.

“You have me. So long as I live, it’s me and you.” He kisses the tip of your nose.

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” You grin.

“Half bad?” Fred gawks, rolling you onto your back. “Not half bad?” He repeats, ticking your sides.

“I’m sorry! It sounds good.” You amend, howling with laughter. “So good!”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Fred joins in, you’ve missed that sound.

You stop fighting, when his teasing turns to kisses. Letting Fred bring you to life, the way that only he can. Reminding you what it feels like to be filled with passion. The way things used to be...before. Perhaps he was the only bit of that life you get to keep; somehow that‘s alright. Things can still be good here, if you allow them to be.

Taglist: @bforbroadway @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @chaotic-fae-queen @a-mexican-waffle @obsessedwithrandomthings @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @haphazardhufflepuff @peachesandpinks @iliveiloveiwrite @the-hufflefluffwriter @masterofthedarkness @fific7 @poppin-potter

Twins Taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual​

[koolkat9]

So...Alice Au Fic Idea

Because I’m obsessed and after that drawing and listening to “Servant of Evil” on repeat I needed to write out a plot idea. 

First off, I tried to make Arthur evil, I really tried, but it didn’t work. Like its clear he isn’t a good guy, but like he doesn’t know he’s evil or relishes in that fact. Second off, Halfway through I’m like,  wait there are other characters I can use, so if I write it I’ll probably write more interactions at least between Feli, Kiku and Ludwig. Lastly, I don’t know if I’ll ever write this because I do two things in it I don’t usually write so who the heck knows. Anyway, without further adieu here is a plot outline. 

- Open with them as children

- Arthur is tending to the garden one day and feels someone is watching-> behind one of the rose bushes he spots Ludwig and he asks Ludwig if he could help him-> Ludwig agrees

- Through this the two become friends, but unfortunately it doesn’t last long as Arthur gets less free time as he begins his schooling and training to be the next ruler

- They are properly reunited again when Arthur becomes crowned and Ludwig is assigned as his personal guard-> both are ecstatic by the arrangement as they missed each other

- Not long after feelings began festering and the two have a secret relationship

- Though Arthur tends to be somewhat of a tyrant when he becomes king, taking things too far when it comes to keeping law and order, the two are quite happy

- Then comes word of an outsider in their land-> Arthur having a negative experience with outsiders, demands she be brought to him-> Ludwig is somewhat confused since there is no proof this individual is dangerous, but Arthur brushes him off and tries to distract him (somewhat works)

- One day, while in town on an errand for Arthur, he comes across a young girl (liechtenstein/Erika), the outsider-> he goes in to capture her and fulfill his duty, but stops as she sees her buy some food for a beggar-> for the rest of the day he follows her only to see Arthur’s fears are misplaced-> At one point she catches him, but surprisingly she isn’t mad at him-> “A-Are you going to capture me?” she asked timidly. Despite this question, she made no move to run. He knew he should though. That’s what Arthur wanted. But at the same time, she didn’t appear to have a dangerous bone in her body and Arthur...well...he was stubborn and had trouble admitting he was wrong. Who knows what he would do to her. “No,” Ludwig answered.-> As an apology for spying on her, he offers to treat her to lunch

- He returns to the palace that evening, wanting to forget today ever happened-> Arthur is suspicious as to what took him so long, but Ludwig doesn’t fall for Arthur’s attempts to get him to talk-> Giving up Arthur requests he joins him in his chambers

- Things continue to go well. Ludwig spends his time, trying to keep Arthur distracted from the search for the outsider and just over all happy and he more or less is doing it successfully

- Unfortunately, Ludwig meets Erika again after she wanders onto the castle grounds and guards begin to pursue her-> she runs into Ludwig who helps her escape-> this second meeting sends him into spiral of conflicting feelings and values: Loyalty to and love of Arthur and his morals and belief that Erika is innocent and shouldn’t be going through this

- Arthur is concerned with how trouble Ludwig is, but becomes too consumed with finding this girl running amuck in his kingdom and poking into things he worries will spell danger for them-> His obsession and rage comes to head when Erika accidentally destroys some roses and finally gets caught and Arthur finds out Ludwig has been ignoring his orders-> Arthur is furious, but he can’t bring himself to do anything more than kick Ludwig out 

- Ludwig, now out in the kingdom realizes the unrest and after running into his old friend Feliciano he hears that many are planning on overthrowing Arthur and saving Erika-> Ludwig knows he has to warn Arthur, but Feli advises against it since Arthur isn’t the best guy-> “I know that...but he really believes he’s doing good. Someone has to put him on the right path and I know only I can get away with it.”

- He ends up sneaking in with the help of his friend Kiku who’s part of the royal court

- Arthur at first doesn’t want to see him, but Ludwig tells him that it's important and it's a matter of life and death-> Arthur asks all his guards to leave for five minutes-> Arthur tells him what he’s heard and witnessed and begs Arthur to run away with him-> Arthur refuses at first, but Ludwig finally says how he’s realized how different and downright scary Arthur has become after taken the throne, how he’s tried to ignore it and act like everything’s fine-> he asks once more for Arthur to come with him, that they could be as they once were, have the life Arthur occasionally dreamed of without responsibility and Arthur finally agrees and suggests they meet at nightfall

- They meet, Arthur has gathered some essentials-> Ludwig asks what’s going to happen to Erika and Arthur states that she’ll probably be broken out by the rebels and although he doesn’t seem to happy about that, Ludwig ensures that Erika is overall a good person and it will turn out alright

- As they are about to leave a guardsmen (or at least someone dressed as one) comes running towards Arthur, spear drawn-> Ludwig jumps in the way, taking the blow for him-> He crumples floor and Arthur follows in complete shock, the assassin quickly forgotten-> “No...nonono,” Arthur whispered desperately, collecting Ludwig in his arms, “No, love, Ludwig don’t you....don’t close your eyes. S-Stay with me. LUDWIG!”-> Erika, recently free comes upon the scene and is devastated to find the kind guard that helped her bleeding out-> Arthur begs her to help Ludwig, to heal him regardless of what happens to him

- Erika agrees and demands the rebels do not touch Arthur at least until this issue is solved

Now I’ve got two endings for this. In case I do write this, I’ll put it under the cut:

Ending 1: 

- Unfortunately, Ludwig subcomes to his injuries and passes away, but before that he asks Arthur to keep on living, to do what he can to make up for his mistakes and that he hopes to see him again be it in the afterlife or rebirth

- Erika offers to put Arthur on house arrest in the little cottage he planned on running away to and Arthur agrees, but before leaving he says that if Erika needs it she can reach out to him any time and that he is sorry for all the pain he’s caused

- Fast forward centuries later, we are in a more modern time following a man strikingly similar to Arthur-> said man happens to bump into someone strikingly similar to Ludwig-> The Arthur looking man goes to curse out the other, but when their eyes meet something clicks and they feel like they recognize each other-> Instead the Arthur like man apologizes as does the Ludwig look alike, offering to buy him a coffee (In case you hadn’t caught on the two were reborn and now can have a more normal and happy life together)

Ending 2:

- They manage to save Ludwig

- Erika realizing how much they love each other and as repayment for Ludwig’s kindness agrees to let them go under the condition they primarily stay at the cottage they planned on going to (almost like a house arrest)-> the two take the opportunity

- Fast forward a year or so later, Ludwig and Arthur had made a happy and peaceful life for themselves-> Erika, who decides to stay in Wonderland becomes a fine ruler and even checks in and gets advice from Ludwig and Arthur-> They have adopted some dogs upon Ludwig’s request, Arthur has grown his own rose bushes, red like he’s always wanted, giving one to Ludwig everyday-> just very fluffy, very domestic

And there. Now that this is all written out maybe I’ll actually write it for my 100 follower milestone?

[thekrazykeke]

See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears. 

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this. 

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

~

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it. 

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist. 

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?” 

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.” 

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that. 

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked. 

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away. 

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions. 

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid. 

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated. 

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always. 

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?” 

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it. 

You’re at an impasse. 

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you. 

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’ 

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself. 

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain. 

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so... 

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went. 

Until you find him. 

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.” 

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to. 

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’. 

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’ 

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are. 

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around. 

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.” 

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations. 

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you. 

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso. 

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest. 

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips. 

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.” 

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off. 

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth. 

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does. 

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan. 

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones. 

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji. 

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc. 

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful. 

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward. 

Coming almost uncomfortably close. 

“Or is there another….” 

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his. 

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

 As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again. 

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring. 

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out. 

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.” 

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to. 

There are no more kisses between you and Uta. 

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired. 

Almost as if he could love you.

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 4 ~Revelations and Snogs~

Previously in A Christmas Request ...

"Claire?"

"Hmmm?" Her voice was like a breathless whisper, and he wasn't sure if he imagined the yearning look in her eyes. It took all his self-control to keep from kissing her right there and then. Instead, he locked down all his muscles and willed himself to think of animals that start with the letter D. And all his damn brain could summon was the word dragonfly.

"May I ask ye a favour?"

"I don't kiss on the first date," she said too quickly, but her words contradicted her manner as she stared at his lips.

"That wasn't what I was gonnae ask ye."

"Oh!" Her eyes flew to his, and she blushed profusely. "Oh, well, that depends on the favour then."

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, taking her hands in his. "Will ye spend the rest of yer holiday with me?" He cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to ask of ye is, will ye stay here until the Three Kings ...until it's time for ye to go back to London?"

She blinked thrice. 

"Alright."

"Alright?" A lungful of air whooshed out of him.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

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   Alrighty Beauchamp, what have you just done?

Grabbed life by the balls? Isn't that the mantra?

Nope!

What do you mean nope?

Those are not your words. Not our words.

Yes, they are. You know, live in the moment and la-di-dah!?

Nope, definitely not.

Whose are they then?

Annalise's.

Ah, well ...

Claire mentally shrugged. 

"Sassenach?"

She snapped out of her tunnel vision, then looked at the big hands still holding hers. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of agreeing to spend the rest of her holiday with a total stranger. Who are you and what have you done with the ol' Beauchamp? "I'm sorry. I was thinking of Annalise. This is our holiday together, you see. I just agreed to spend the rest of my holiday here without consulting her." She shook her head and laughed despite the conflicting thoughts floating around her head. "I'm quite sure she'll be fine with it. She's the one who's always pushing me to be more spontaneous."

He squeezed her hands. "I'm flattered to be the reason for your spontaneity."

Her face heated. "I've never done this before ...just so you know."

He tried to catch her eye, and when she returned his gaze, he gave her a lop-sided smile. "Neither have I."

Oh, he's so good. Claire blew out a breath and stilled her heart. "That's comforting to know," she said, trying not to look too flustered. Knowing so little about him, she knew she should be wary, but for some reason, she felt safe. Everything about him was brand-new and familiar at the same time. It's as if there had been a melody playing in her head for her entire life, and he'd finally given it words.

"And Analise is welcome to stay too," Jamie quickly reassured her. "Ye said ye're booked at the Airbnb until Boxing day, but I dinnae think there'll be any guarantee ye'll be able to extend yer stay there with it being high season and all. But we have a family cottage that we rent out for the long term, and it was recently vacated. With all the Christmas fuss and work during the past few weeks, we never got around to letting it. Ye and Annalise are welcome to stay there for the rest of yer holiday." And then he grinned. "I'm quite certain my brother would be thrilled with the idea of yer friend staying too."

Claire laughed. "You're probably right. They seemed to have hit it off."

"Ye could say the same for us, don't ye agree?" he asked in a low voice.

She stared at him. How could he looked so calm and collected when she hadn't figured out how to articulate what she was feeling? On top of it all, it seemed he'd perfected the art of persuasion with finesse, so much so, she'd immediately jumped at his invitation to stay in Broch Mordha without a second thought, surprising herself. When it came to the dating game, she would have equated over-confidence to smugness which as a rule turned her immensely off. But there's a sincerity to Jamie's flirting that she found all too endearing and very charming.

She searched his face. Ready or not, she was curious to explore the unfamiliar emotions this beautiful man was drawing out of her. In her history of dating, no man had ever moved her to make her take the leap of faith. Deep down, something always seemed to be missing, and she'd simply put it down to her inability to know what she wanted. To say her hope of finding herself in a romantic relationship had taken a hit would be an understatement.

When her last date had ended in a blaze of abject embarrassment after she was accused of being a cock-tease, she'd decided she was done with men, at least for the foreseeable future. She had a concrete five-year plan, and getting involved with someone when her heart wasn't a hundred per cent into it, wasn't one of them. Annalise continued to hassle her to dive back in into the dating pool head first, but she'd been content to wade in the shallow end. It may have been frustrating to never take the plunge, but at least, there was a nil chance of her drowning in a sea of mistake. But now?

"Baby steps," she whispered.

"Sorry ...I didn't quite catch that."

She pulled her hands from his hold and drank the rest of her already cold Dutch coffee. When she finally placed the mug down, she looked up and smiled at him. "That rental cottage you were talking about, can I at least give you some money for it?"

He shook his head. "No way. In case ye've forgotten, I invited ye to stay."

"But you've been paying for everything all evening. Hardly seems fair."

"Spending my hard-earned quid for the pleasure of a gorgeous lass' company? Every penny spent is worth it if ye ask me." 

When he talked like that, she knew her blush wasn't going to fade anytime soon. "Annalise will disapprove, and I'm pretty sure she will want to have her say in the matter."

"And so will Willie."

"Are you always this stubborn?" she countered.

"Only if I want something badly."

They have a stare-off for a few heartbeats before Jamie tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. 

He glanced down at his watch. "So, the last horse carriage ride around the village is in about twenty minutes. We should probably get going." 

"Horse carriage ride?"

"Aye. Part of the Christmas night tour." He got up from his seat and gallantly offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

It's so old-fashioned and chivalrous, she laughed out loud. "Well, I guess we shall." As soon as she linked her hand into the crook of his elbow, he sucked in a quick breath. "Are you alright?"

He looked down at her hand on his arm and smiled. "Aye. I'm just concerned I might have trouble adhering to yer nae-kiss-on-first-date rule."

They headed out of the cafe and into the frosty air, and she was acutely aware of the low voltage electricity buzzing around them. "Would it help if I put my retainers on? I have them in my bag. I usually put them on at night."

"No, not really. I just have to remind myself of the promise I made to Annalise before we left the pub earlier."

"What promise was that?"

"I promised her I'd behave otherwise ..."

"Otherwise?"

"I have to face the consequences."

She laughed. She knew Annalise's threat so well and by heart as the same lines had been often used to warn her dates in the past. "Well, let me see ...did she say if you misbehave she's going to show you the end of the world up close. And she's going to let you see the kingdom come with your own eyes by sending you straight to the southern hemisphere and letting the ashes of death rain all over you."

He grinned at her. "Something like that. How she's going to achieve that, I have nae idea."

"Never mind how. If you keep on focusing on Annalise's threat, that should be deterrent enough."

He gave her a sceptical shrug. "If ye say so." And then he looked down at her and winked. "But then again, ye're worth tempting fate for."

..........

Claire found herself being hoisted into a festively decorated horse-drawn carriage with twinkling garlands, gold & white berries. To her amusement, even the shire horses were wearing faux antlers. As she sat down, she felt their buggy dipped low as Jamie followed and settled next to her, putting the gift bags on the floor and pulling the woollen blanket over them. As their transport rumbled and creaked into motion, he put an arm behind her, resting it the edge of their seat's backrest, leaving her no alternative but to lean against the curve of his body. His closeness and the motion of their carriage added another layer of tension to her already overworked adrenal glands.

"Comfy?" he whispered, leaning into her, his warm breath on her ear.

"Uh-huh," she managed, licking her lips that had gone suddenly dry. It was a challenging feat to ignore Jamie's presence when his sheer size encroached her space, his thigh brushing against hers and the motion of the ride, sinking her deeper under his arm.

She forced herself to focus on the sounds of the hooves and bells, and admire the trees wrapped in lights, wreaths adorning almost every window, and Santas or nutcrackers standing guard outside front doors. For once, Jamie didn't speak, and she allowed herself to relax, revelling the clean, crisp air of the Highlands. Although Broch Mordha was nothing like London, quieter and had a slower pace of life, the atmosphere in the village was electric. It was almost magical, more natural and everything seemed to make more sense, instead of the rat race that occurred daily and nightly in the big city.

Every year, at around Christmas time, she came back to the Highlands in search of some peace, and every time she returned to London, she always felt like a brand new person, invigorated, well-rested and ready to tackle the New Year. But there was something different about her visit in Broch Mordha compared to the other places she'd been to in the Highlands, and she had a feeling deep in her guts, she'd have trouble leaving this place once her holiday was over. 

"Ye dinnae look tired at all, Sassenach. Ye're used to staying up late?"

She glanced up at Jamie and smiled. "I sleep very little. I don't know, maybe I have insomnia."

"Really? Perhaps it's just a consequence of living in the city. I mean it's loud there, and I presume ye live in a flat where ye can hear the comings and goings of yer neighbours."

She sighed. "Yes, there's that. The flat Annalise and I live in is not really the most tranquil setting. It doesn't help that I am an overthinker."

"What do ye think mostly about when ye cannae sleep?"

"Mostly about work," she shrugged, glancing at the lights overhead that were hung above the streets. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy, and I'm grateful for the good life I have. It's just that sometimes I think about the day when I would stop searching for ..."

Jamie waited for her to finish her sentence, but she couldn't find the words. "For what?" he finally asked, his hand squeezing her shoulder, urging her on.

"More," she replied candidly, surprising herself with the unguarded utterance that came from her very soul, ragged with honesty and desire for something she didn't have a name for. Yet. Suddenly, the empty place inside her reared up, seeking company. "How about you? What do you think most of at night?" She paused, trying to tamp down the sudden curiosity that flared up, but it was out before she could stop herself. "A certain lass perchance?"

To her astonishment, she felt him tensed beside her, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh. "I have nightmares," he confided.

Her head jerked up, and she twisted in her seat to look into his eyes. He was probably waiting for her to ask a torrent of questions, but she remained silent, allowing him to set the pace of their conversation. She nodded her head to continue.

"I used to be with the SAS. It's a special force unit for the British army. The unit I was in was responsible for a number of roles including covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, and hostage rescue. My best friend, Simon MacKimmie, was captured while spying behind the enemies' lines. He was a valuable informant for both sides, and my team were under direct orders to get him out of there alive and as swiftly as possible." She watched as his throat worked as if he saw the scene replaying in his mind. "We found him quickly enough and thought we were out of the woods. But the enemy fire broke out just as we were about to board the helicopter. Simon and I were hit, but my wound was superficial, whereas my friend's injury was fatal. I promised him everything would be alright and would make sure he stayed alive for his family. Before he slipped away, he made me promise to take care of his wife, Laoghaire, if he didn't make it. She was pregnant at the time. I didn't hesitate and made a vow to keep that promise."

"Oh, Jamie ..."

He pressed his lips into a determined line. "Months later, I was discharged from the army after I was diagnosed with PTSD. I resigned myself to a quiet life as the flashbacks from the horrors of the war and friend's death worsened. Laoghaire and I became close, as we talked a lot about Simon and I helped her with the things she needed. That was when I found my purpose in life again, and even though I wasn't in love with her, I loved her like I loved Simon so I asked her to marry me so that I could take care of their child. It was a sacrifice, aye, but it was a small price to pay, considering I get to live, and my mate will never get to see his unborn child. So we planned to marry after the child was born. So while we were waiting for the big day, I bought a house for us, and my brother helped me restore it."

"But Laoghaire didnae want to live here. She wanted us to move to Liverpool because she couldnae stand the quiet and the remoteness even though she was born and bred here. I told her we would talk about it after the baby was born. But I was worried that living in the city would make my PTSD worse. Meanwhile, rumours were going around that Laoghaire has been seeing another man when Simon was still alive and that she would often disappear to Liverpool weeks at a time. I ignored it as I didnae care for idle gossips and dismissed it as such. Ye see, she lived and worked in Liverpool before she married Simon; hence, I thought, that was where the rumours had stemmed from. She's a very ambitious lass and has this dream of making it big one day. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I later found out from a reliable source that not only had she cheated on Simon, but she cheated on me while were engaged. I began to wonder if the child she was carrying was even Simon's. While I was building her a house and funding her trips to Liverpool, she was seeing the same man she'd been meeting up with when Simon was still alive. When I confronted her, she admitted to it. So the wedding was cancelled, and she went to Liverpool to give birth to her child and to be with the other man ." 

He shook his head at the memory. "She reminded me of someone I used to pursue. She'd rather be with a man wearing a five grand suit than be with a labourer like me. I guess it's the lure of the city. Sometimes I feel like I failed Simon and his family. I made him all sorts of promises that I couldnae keep and the memory of the glimmer of hope he had in his eyes turning to death, keep recurring in my dreams."

Claire knew the last things Jamie needed were apologies and pities. He seemed like a proud man who didn't shy away from responsibilities and was unapologetically himself. "I guess we both have demons that keep us up at night," she finally said.

Jamie shrugged and waved his hand. "Dinnae fash. I didnae take ye out so ye could watch me wallow. I've done enough of that myself."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to pretend I wholly understand everything you've been through, but one thing I know is that you being part of the SAS means you were trained with the elite. You were drilled to save lives, and with that comes, precision and no room for error. So when something goes wrong, and someone dies during your watch, it becomes your fault."

He looked at her as furrows deepened on his brows.

She placed a hand over his. "You tried to absolve your guilt of not being able to save your mate's life by taking care of Laoghaire, who was so undeserving of your kindness and generosity. God or a higher power or the universe, or whatever you wish to call it, is trying to show you something important. You don't get to choose, Jamie. At the end of the day, you can only do your best, but you can't save everyone. No one can. Right now you're learning to live with that, and all you can do now is make sure you get to the other side. You can't take responsibility for everyone's action but yours."

Something lit up in Jamie's eyes. Emboldened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, she grinned at him. "No wonder you won at the caber toss and your team trashed the opponents at shinty today. You have so much pent up emotions dying to come out."

Jamie suddenly laughed out loud and pulled her against him. "I think I need to fire my therapist and hire ye, Sassenach. All this time, we'd circled around the realisation, always walking on eggshells. But ye ...ye just gave it to me straight. I think I'll need ye to stay longer past three kings."

She poked him on the ribs. "Be careful what you wish for!"

..........

A couple of hours and a glass of mulled cider each later, they walked in silence as Jamie guided her down the path that led to the bed and breakfast cottage. As it turned out, he lived three minutes walk away from where she and Annalise were staying.

After spending a whole night out with him, her body was still buzzing with so much energy. She'd never had such a powerful reaction to a man before. Nor enjoyed the company of one as much as she did tonight. She felt like she could uproot all the trees that stood on her path.

"I had a really grand time," he said.

"Me too. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"And thank ye for the company."

As they neared bed and breakfast cottage, she realised they were exchanging lame small talk, but there's nothing lame about what's passing between them. Either way, she couldn't care less as she'd never laughed so hard in her life.

When they finally reached the small gate, she stopped and turned around to face him. "Well, here we are," she smiled, trying to conceal her reluctance to go.

He hooked the giftbags onto the wooden gate and nodded tensely, the tightness in his jaw quite evident. "Aye. Here we are at Mrs Fitz's place. I ken the ol' dear. She used to feed me and my brother jam piece and milk when we were bairns." He took a step forward and cleared his throat. "I ...um ...tonight was really special." 

"I think so too. Thank you again for everything."

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "I'm no' tired yet, so I'm just going to take a walk some more until I'm ready for bed," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Yes, you do that. Fresh air is good for you. And I ...ah ... I'll talk to Annalise about extending our stay here. Ah well ... that's if she's still awake." She rolled her eyes and let out a nervous laugh. "Or if she's home. So ... I'll see you around?"

"Aye, I'm just down the road if ye need anything."

"Yes. Got it. Down the road. A hop, skip and jump away."

He stared for a few heartbeats, then ran his hand behind his neck and gave her a crooked smile. "I meant it, Sassenach. If ye cannae sleep, ye can drop by anytime. I'm a light sleeper. Apart from personalised packaged-tours, I also specialise in making a mean toddy to help ye sleep. And a wicked mushroom omelette if its breakfast ye want. Oh, aye, I'm good at foot massage as well."

She stifled a giggle threatening to burst as a ball of warmth bloomed in her belly. "I have no doubt you're good at those things. I'll bear what you said in mind if I need anything or if I have trouble sleeping. And if I have a sudden urge for a foot massage, I'll pop by."

He shook his head. "Ye're not just saying that to spare my feelings are ye?"

"No. Of course not. I enjoy your company. So ..." Claire took a deep breath. "...this is it. Good night, Jamie. And thank you again for everything." Oh, dear God, I keep saying thank you! She stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on his cheek just as he offered his hand. Their sudden awkward movement made her lose her balance, bumping her nose on his jaw. They both took a step back and laughed. This time she held out her hand, and he shook it.

They continued to stand there and shake hands, neither of them letting go, their smile slowly ebbing away as they stared at each other.

Jamie was the first to speak. "Right, this is the part where I watch ye walk away."

"Yes. I'll go now. It's getting late." She smiled as she took a tentative step away from him, but he didn't let go of her hand.

Her bottom hit the wooden post behind her as Jamie took another step forward. His height and breadth blocked out the street light, and in the shadows, his expression looked almost pained. She'd had men looked at her with desire before, but nothing like the way Jamie was doing right now. The way his jaw and muscles tensed and his breathing shallowed, she knew it was taking him a lot of effort to hold himself back. Her eyes travelled down to his throat and watched his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Sassenach." His voice cut through the haze, and her eyes flew to his as he leaned down and cupped her face. "Maybe ye could stay for just a wee while more."

Her heart began to thump wildly against her ribs as the air between them charged. "I really should get going," she whispered, the blood roaring through her ears almost deafening. She willed herself to move, but she remained fixed on the spot.

"Or perhaps ye can just stand here for a few minutes more and let me do this."

She stopped breathing and time stood still as he softly brushed his lips across hers. Then he pulled away for a brief second waiting for her to object, and when she didn't, he kissed her again.

Her brain seized, and her eyes automatically closed. She'd never felt lips so soft nor been kissed with such gentleness. She once read an Oscar Wilde quote, and it said, "A kiss may ruin a human life." It had puzzled her then because up until now, she'd always thought, although some kisses were sweet it was nothing more than two people putting their faces together and exchanging spit. But Jamie's kiss? She knew it had ruined her for any future kisses. This was the type of kiss she never even knew existed. It was the kind of kiss that inspired stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.

She waited with bated breaths for more, but nothing happened.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. "I've wanted to kiss ye from the moment I laid my eyes on ye," he whispered and grazed her lips once more. "Ye've nae idea how beautiful ye are."

Oh, sweet Jesus! He'd barely touched her. It was merely a light brushing of their lips and the slightest sensation of his breath on her face. But it was enough to cause the static crackling between them to be ignited, and she was left wanting more.

Before she could reassemble her thoughts and make sense of her emotions, he stepped away from her and tunnelled his fingers through his hair. "May I please have yer phone, Sassenach?"

"Oh! Wot for?"

He smiled at her. "I'm giving ye my number." 

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and handed her phone over. She watched him dial his own number on her screen, and after a few seconds later, his own phone rang. 

"There, now I have yers too." He pushed her phone into her back pocket and blew out a breath. "I'll see ye tomorrow?" 

"You want to see me again?" she teased, smiling.

"I dinnae even want to leave ye tonight."

She dropped her head down to hide the heat creeping up her face. "I'll see what's Annalise is up to and we'll take it from there. I'll either call you or send a message."

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "Ye're not mad I kissed ye? I havenae forgotten yer rules about first dates."

Claire picked up the gift bags, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. And then she smiled. "I'm starting to believe the rules don't apply to you. Good night, Jamie." And with that, she turned around and walked towards the cottage without looking back, knowing full well Jamie was still stood there waiting for her until she'd safely made it to the house.

Once inside, she allowed herself to slide down to the floor and relived the memory of their first kiss. And she sat there for a very long time.

Dear Readers,

Here's a little story about this chapter. I got stuck at the beginning of writing this one. So what did I do? I started writing from the middle, then the conclusion and finished the opening in the end. It's common to get stuck in writing, so I thought I'd share this wee tip with you. So just in case, the latest update lost some of its fluidity, you now know the reason why. 😀

Anyway, thank you for reading and your feedback from the previous chapter. It's something I truly appreciate. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to reading your thoughts. Meanwhile, sending you all best wishes and hope you're taking care of yourselves and your health. x

[skiller0dani]

Aching Curiosity | Klaus Hargreeves

M A S T E R L I S T TUA Masterlist

smut requested requests info

I am now talking The Umbrella Academy Requests! See my requests info for the details. Klaus is my precious baby bean, he’s one of my favorite characters. god I am so hot for this man. like look at his smile, and his shoulders, and his neck, and his jaw, and his chest, and and~~ 

okay I’m done. enjoy xx

You knew he was a mess when you met him. 

You could tell before he even spoke a single word to you that his life was falling apart, even with the cheeky smile he sent your way, along with the palm that read Hello. Reginald Hargreeves had hired you recently as a maid, cook, personal assistant to Grace. You knew almost nothing about him or his 7 strange children, other than that there were comic books written about them, along with action figure toys made. You’d always found that odd, was it because Mr. Hargreeves was rich? One of his daughters, Vanya Hargreeves had released a book but you have yet to pick up a copy. You were employed to her father, it felt like spying on him. Even after Mr. Hargreeve’s death you remained with Grace and Pogo-  it didn’t take you long to figure out what made the Hargreeve’s children so famous. 

One has super strength, Luther.  One never misses, ever, Diego.  One can control peoples minds, Allison.  One can speak to the dead, Klaus.  One can time travel and teleport short distances, Five.  One had tentacles emerge from his body, Ben. And one was completely ordinary, Vanya.  

While you had met most of Mr. Hargreeves children, Ben had passed away a few years prior and Five went missing nearly 16 years ago. Either way none of the children lived in the house anymore, you spent your days with Mr. Hargreeves, Grace, and Pogo. Until the untimely death of Mr. Hargreeves. 

As soon as he’d stepped foot in the door, you knew he was a mess. There was black rimming his red hazy eyes, a joint in one hand and a big lazy smile on his face. An eyebrow cocked when Klaus’s eyes landed on you, and the other eyebrow joined when his eyes trailed over your uniform. He had a bottle in his palm and his tongue darted out to catch a drop rolling down the side. Grace came up behind you, “welcome home dear. This is Y/N, your father’s new maid.” She smiled, her eyes wide and robotic as Klaus pressed a kiss to her cheek. Your heart felt as though it was beating like wild when Klaus turned to regard you once again, a smile was pressed to his face and you waited in anticipation when he opened his mouth. “Why the hell would you take a job here?” A short laugh escaped as a huff from his mouth before he’s turning for the living room- and a bar. 

With only 1 person, 1 robot, and a monkey living in the house it wasn’t particularly dirty. Pogo gave you your instructions most of the time but since Mr. Hargreeves died he didn’t have much of anything for you to do. Most often you roamed around the house, admiring the books or examining the individual brush strokes of each painting. You followed Klaus into the living room, where your eyes landed on a painting of Five. Klaus leaned against the bar, another bottle in his hand. He tilts his head back as he ingests what you hope is a medication that was prescribed to him. Based upon his appearance however, you doubt it. 

“Why did you take this job?” He asked, turning around so that his back is pressed against the bar. 

“Good pay.” You say simply, truth is, is that there’s more to it than that. But you don’t feel like saying your sob story to a drunk pill popper. Klaus must have caught wind of your timidness as an almost greedy smile crossed onto his face before he pushed away from the bar. He swayed from foot to foot before finding his balance. You felt heat simmering in your lower belly as Klaus towered over you, his eyes narrowed. A teasing smile stretched across his lips, “my father was probably the most miserable person to be around, and you chose to spend all day with him, every single day for... good pay?” Klaus inquires, a sarcastic tone in his voice as he leaned down to look you in the eyes. You blushed under his hard stare. 

“You’re either really lonely or really desperate.” Klaus shrugged, standing up straight. He had to have been the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on even though he had an air of femininity to him, which strangely made him more attractive. Feeling embarrassed by his interrogation you make a beeline for the staircase, watching Klaus’s smile turn upwards in victory as you retreat. 

It wasn’t until hours later that you’d seen Klaus again, and this time he sought you out. The sun had long set under the edge of the city, and most of all the other siblings had arrived- even Five. Which you couldn’t wrap your head around still- the image of him falling from the sky replaying in your head. You were tidying your cramped bedroom, or rather broom cupboard that Mr. Hargreeves had given you to use as a bedroom. You folded clothes, yours and Grace’s to be exact, so they would be ready to put away the following morning. One harsh knock, followed by 2 more took your attention from the laundry in front of you. You almost never had anyone knocking at your door, and all the siblings except for Klaus and Vanya had all but ignored you. You didn’t take it personally, they did just lose someone although you’re not sure Mr. Hargreeves was very important to them. 

“Klaus?” You were confused to say the least to see him leaning against the wall opposite your bedroom. He had a smile resting lazily on his face and in his hand he held a bottle and two glasses. “Have a drink with me.” There was a twinkle in his eyes and you knew already that you lacked the strength to turn him away, it was curiosity that drove you forward. You took one of the glasses as you led him down the hallway, your bedroom was far too small to sit comfortably in. “Mine.” Klaus said as he snatched your wrist, and with a short nod you were following him back through the house towards his own- much larger- bedroom. 

You felt nervous as you crossed the threshold into his bedroom. Klaus collapsed against his bed, and you stood stiff as a board in the doorway. “Sit down, Jesus before you turn into a fucking statue.” Klaus grumbled with a playful smile, and you try to ease your nerves as you sit on some cushions he has placed on the floor. Being alone with Klaus, sent tendrils of electricity pulsing through your entire body, and you’d only known him a few hours. You felt a strong magnetic pull towards him and anytime the opportunity presented itself, you allowed your eyes to take peaks of his body. Klaus poured the clear liqueur into his glass and you followed suit. 

“Why did you really take this job?” Klaus asked after the 4th glass, and to your surprised he still seems pretty composed. You were on your third glass and were already starting to feel the alcohol’s effects. You let out a deep breath as you slam the rest of the alcohol in your glass, “needed an escape. Somewhere I felt safe, my ex boyfriend is a real piece of work.” You say with a sigh and Klaus’s eyebrows furrow together as he scoots of the bed to sit on the floor with you. “He used to go on drunk tangents, would break stuff, threaten to hurt me. He scared me so when I got the offer from Mr. Hargreeves to be a live in maid, I immediately said yes.” You didn’t realize tears were in your eyes until Klaus was brushing one away as it fell down your cheek. A dark look flashed in Klaus’s eyes before he was cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“Did he ever hurt you?” There’s a haziness in his eyes but you can tell he’s being serious. You shook your head, even though it was a lie. Your ex boyfriend definitely has hurt you before, but something tells you that this would upset Klaus beyond belief and you don’t want him to worry. When you noticed Klaus’s eyes locked on your lips your heart jumped in your throat. You froze as he inched forward, giving you plenty of time to stop him. Much to his delight, you don’t stop him before he presses his lips against yours. Normally Klaus isn’t this assertive, tending to be more submissive but he can practically taste the timidness coming from you. He wants to feel your lips on his, to feel your body on his and he knows that won’t happen unless he takes the lead. 

At first you’re stiff, but when Klaus’s hand tangles into your hair at the back of your head you immediately melt against him. Knocking the glasses aside you lean up into his inviting lips as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. Klaus cups your cheek with his left hand, his other still tangled in your hair as he presses you more firmly against his mouth. You feel like there’s a drum beating in your chest as you lean up on your knees to press against Klaus. He falls back against his bed, and in your drunken haze you crawl frantically onto his lap. You grind your hips down on his hardening bulge, your brain fogged by alcohol and lust. All you can feel is him- lips and tongues and teeth and hands wandering all over each other’s bodies. After a few minutes of a heated make-out session you finally regain your sanity and come to your senses. Klaus’s lust blown eyes stay locked on you as you have your hands pressed to his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?” His question is genuine and his chest is heaving as he catches his breath. Your lips are pink and swollen as your heart hammers wildly in your chest, “K-Klaus I can’t. I’m a virgin.” You whisper the last part, your mind screaming at itself for not having lost your virginity yet. Your body longs desperately for him, for his cock to be buried inside you. Klaus leans against his bed, his chest heaving, “oh.” Is all he manages to huff out. His lips are tingling and all the blood is rushing to his cock. His hands grab at your hips, his grip his loosening even after your confession. “Well that’s okay, I don’t mind.” Klaus shrugs, his eyes scanning your face but he can’t tear his gaze away from your lips for very long. Your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, “you still want to...you know...with me...even though I’m a virgin?” Your cheeks blush darkly as the words stammer from your lips. Klaus smiles like a schoolboy, “oh yeah.” He reassures, his hands ghosting up and down your sides. 

Timidly, you press your lips against his once more. Klaus moans into your mouth at the contact, his hand reaching up to cradle the back of your head. The kisses become more and more desperate as your lips begin to move against his faster. Klaus’s hand drifts up your back to suddenly push your body against his, your breasts crushed against his chest. “You sure you’re okay,” he starts, beginning to kiss down your neck, “with me popping your cherry?” Klaus gasps in between kisses as he nips at your neck. Your hands grab at his biceps as you moan softly, feeling his lips working down your neck to your collarbones. “Mhm I’m sure.” You whisper lazily, your head rolling back as Klaus’s mouth presses wet kisses to the tops of your breasts- still mostly covered by your shirt. “If you want me to stop just say so.” He says, pulling away from you to look in your eyes. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were gay when I first met you.” You muse aloud as his mouth returns to pressing kisses to your collarbones. Klaus chuckles as he thumbs the bottom of your shirt- you quickly get the hint and nervously pull the fabric up and over your head. “Oh baby I don’t fit in any one box, I fuck whatever makes my dick hard. Be it a man, woman, I don’t care.” Klaus mumbles, his lips exploring the newly exposed skin. Your breasts are nearly spilling from your bra when Klaus’s hands hastily yanks your bra down to expose them to him completely. His eyes widen and Klaus swears his mouth is watering at the sight of you, “fuck” Klaus hisses under his breath. Fumbling with the clasp Klaus eventually just yanks the bra off, tearing it in half as he does so. You moan as he does so, and Klaus arches a brow at your response. 

Klaus is leaning down to capture one of your hardened nipples into his mouth as his other hand drifts down your stomach. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as his teeth bite down on your nipple, forcing a cry of both pain and pleasure to erupt from your mouth. You reach up to cover your mouth with your palm but Klaus gently removes your hand, “I want them to hear you.” As soon as the words leave his lips you feel a rush of arousal head south, dampening your panties. Klaus dips his hand into your sleep shorts as you pull at his shirt, helping him yank it over his head. You stayed in his lap, subconsciously grinding against him as his fingers make contact with your aching clit. 

“Am I not going fast enough darling?” Klaus teases as he watches your hips lazily roll against his hard cock on their own accord. A blush darkens your cheeks as you play with the short hairs on the back of his neck. You shake your head, “faster.” You whisper, your empty pussy clenching around nothing. Klaus presses a quick kiss to your lips before lifting you with him as he stands. Turning around, Klaus gently lays you back on the bed, and your heart is hammering hard. Your head is still hazy with alcohol, and all you can think about is Klaus’s cock pushing inside you. Klaus reaches up to hook his fingers into your sleep shorts and panties, and he yanks them down your legs with one quick yank. Once you’re laying completely naked underneath him you squirm from the heated look he’s giving you. Klaus’s fingertips brush against your tummy, a wide grin splitting across his face. 

Gliding his fingers through your folds, you whine loudly while Klaus hums appreciatively at how wet you are. Prodding a finger against your entrance, Klaus very gently pushes a finger into you. Your legs spread open further as you moan softly, feeling sparks shooting through your entire body. Klaus begins to steadily pump a finger into you, and he can’t take his fucking eyes off you. Your back is arched slightly as the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard tumble from your parted lips. Very carefully Klaus adds a second finger and you groan, your fists curling into the sheets as you already feel a climax approaching. Seeming to sense your orgasm as well, Klaus pulls his fingers from your wet pussy immediately, standing straight. Your chest is heaving as your head thumps back against the pillow, but you lift your head when you hear Klaus undoing his jeans. 

When his tight pants are shimmied off his legs you can’t take your eyes off the prominent bulge in his boxer briefs. Klaus leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips before digging around his bedside drawer, his mouth turning up to a smile when he pulls out what he was looking for. A condom. “Hold this for me okay baby?” Klaus says gently, sensing your nerves coming back. You swallow thickly as your trembling hands reach forward to take the condom from him. “Still want to do this?” He asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of his briefs. You nod instantly. Klaus smiles before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before pushing his briefs down his legs, allowing his leaking cock to spring free. Klaus hisses in relief as his aching cock hits the cool air and he smiles at you before plucking the condom from your shaking hands. 

You watch as Klaus tears the condom wrapper open to slowly roll the condom down his shaft. You swallow thickly as you part your thighs for him, settling your head into the pillow as Klaus leans over you. “Will it fit?” You ask, feeling dumb for even asking. But Klaus simply presses another kiss to your lips as he nudges the blushing head against your wet opening. “Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.” Klaus reassures, one of his hands snaking between your bodies to line himself up. Once Klaus slots the head of his cock against your tight opening he looks up at you before does anything, “are you absolutely sure you want this? I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow with regrets.” He says, his face falling. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m sure. If we don’t do this, that will be the only thing I’ll regret tomorrow morning.” You whisper as you pepper kisses along his neck and shoulder. Klaus licks his lips with a nod and a small smile. 

Very gently Klaus begins to push into you, his lips pressing sweetly against yours as a cry of pain begins to escape your lips. Klaus’s hands find yours as he slowly works the head into you, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the pain. Klaus begins to slide the shaft into you and your mouth falls open as tears drip down your cheeks, the burning is unbearable. Noticing your tears Klaus panics and comes to a halt, “oh shit I’m so sorry, am I hurting you? Do you want to stop? W-we can stop-” His voice is bordering on frantic as he brushes your tears away quickly. You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, but when you pull away you still see the panicked and guilty look in his eyes. “Please keep going, I don’t want to stop.” You beg, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Klaus remains still inside you, he looks unsure. “Klaus please, please I want this. I want you, I can take the pain.” You plead, and finally he gives in.

Klaus very timidly resumes working himself into you, his eyes darting back up to scan over your face as he slides into you. Eventually he hits the hymen and by now he’s damn near panting because of how tight you are hugging his cock, and it’s taking every ounce of self control for him not to pound into your little pussy. Klaus presses his forehead against yours, his arms curling around your body as he surges his hips forward- breaking your hymen and sliding fully inside you. You gasp in pain as your arms wind tightly around him, holding onto his back. Klaus pants into your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Holy shit,” He gasps, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. Klaus sits still inside you, waiting until you give him the green light to move. 

After about 5 minutes you release a shaky breath, the burning subsiding. “You can move, but gently okay?” You tell him, your words muffled by the skin of his neck. Klaus leans up on his elbows, as he brushes his nose against yours. He gently pulls his hips back before slowly sliding back into you. The small thrust has stars bursting behind your eyes as your nails dig into his back. Klaus continues his gentle thrusts, sliding back in with a little more force then before. As he feels the pleasure building in his stomach Klaus’s lips frantically find yours, his thumb reaching down to roll your clit as he sweetly fucks into you. You kiss him back with fervor, feeling your own climax approaching again. “Please don’t stop, fuck Klaus don’t stop.” Your pleas spur him on as he gently fucks into you a little harder, rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. “Oh God Klaus fuck I’m-I’m-” Before you can finish your sentence, you’re clenching hard around his cock as you cum. You gush around him as he cums in hot spurts into the condom as soon as he feels you clamp around him. 

Chest heaving, Klaus pulls out of you with a wince to discard of the condom. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and your legs feel like jello. Klaus comes back to bed and collapses next to you, a smile stretched across his face. He flicks his lamp off, and he brushes his nose against yours. “Did I do okay?” Klaus asks, insecurity creeping into his voice. You wrap your arms around him to pull him against you, “you did perfect.” You reassure him and he nuzzles his head against your chest, before the two of you drift to sleep. 

The next morning you’re being carried to the kitchen on Klaus’s back. You had tried to stand but your legs wobbled and you fell back against him. That’s when he scooped you into his arms and began to piggyback carry you around the house on his back. As the two of you enter the kitchen, Diego raises his eyebrows. “Did you have a good night?” He asks, a knowing smile on his face. You blush and open your mouth to try to deny it or even explain yourself but Klaus smiles widely, “fuck yeah I did! I totally got laid.” You hide your face in his back in embarrassment, feeling the vibrations of his laughter. 

[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Ingenium Fracta

Chapter three: Fear and pain

Tw: funerals, doctors, suffocation, nightmares.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Iida Tenya; honoured friend, beloved son and brother. He was a good young man, taken from us too soon. Tenya was a model student and a perfect future hero, who was taken from us by an event none could see happen. It's safe to say that he's in a better place now, he's-"

There had been a funeral, the entire class had shown up. No one really spoke, it was nice catching up with Tensei he supposed, but the fact that it was at a funeral for the poor man's brother really put a damper on things. Aizawa had never felt more guilty for anything in his life, he couldn't believe he'd let a student die like that, how could he be a teacher now?

They never even found the body, Aizawa figured it was because Iida had been fighting Shigaraki at the time. That poor boy, Aizawa couldn't imagine what his family was going through. Class 1-A had completely refused to vote in a new class president, seeming offended at the very idea. Aizawa couldn't blame them at all and he managed to get Nezu to agree that the class would be fine with only a vice president. It was going to be a bit difficult for poor Momo but she was adamant she could manage, replacing Iida would be an insult.

Recently, Aizawa had found himself having regular nightmares about losing more students. It was one of those nights where Hizashi found him, he didn't know where Hizashi had been but he didn't really care. All that mattered to Aizawa was that his loving husband was now holding him gently, "Sho? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" He nodded in response and was suddenly lifted up and placed onto Hizashi's lap, a hand combing through his hair, "it's ok babe, it wasn't real, it's just a nightmare."

"I dreamt I lost more students…"

"Oh Shouta…" Hizashi kissed the top of his head, "it isn't your fault, it never was. You couldn't have known the villains would be there, no one could."

"But…" he was crying now, "I'm supposed to be their teacher, Hizashi, I'm supposed to be a hero!"

"You are a hero! You're EraserHead! Those kids adore you Sho! And they don't hold a single thing against you, please don't hold it against yourself." He was brushing Aizawa's hair now, making sure to be careful of all the knots and tangles. Aizawa had no idea where he found such a perfect husband, he certainly didn't deserve someone so loving. "You did everything you could, but you had to watch the whole class, it's understandable that one slipped through the cracks."

It was silent for a bit after that, Aizawa just sat there trying to process Hizashi's words as the husband in question continued to brush his hair- he was braiding it now. It was very bad when Aizawa couldn't sleep, he usually slept through everything, his thoughts had to be incredibly bad if they were keeping him awake. The guilt that followed losing a student was more than enough though, not only that but it had been the class president, it had been Tenya Iida, Aizawa used to be in the same class as Tensei; the guy was the sweetest, most caring hero they had in their class. It really showed when he saw how Tenya behaved with class 1-A, everything he did reminded Aizawa of Tensei, but now seeing Tensei's face at the funeral, Aizawa had only seen Tenya. What a horrific way for the tables to turn.

The Iida's were a proud family, with a long and incredible lineage; they'd been doing good for people before quirks even evolved. Aizawa had always known them to be a little stuck up in their attitudes, Tensei being the clear outlier- the more he'd seen of Tenya, the more he realised both the Iida brothers were outliers. The funeral had been the first time he'd ever seen any of the Iida's cry- well except from Tenya, who had cried when the hero killer had hurt Tensei and was now unable to cry at all, or even feel emotions. Aizawa couldn't blame Iida's parents for crying; their baby had just died after all. They'd had one hell of a year, first Tensei's legs and now their youngest son.

A child had died. That was the hardest part for Aizawa to cope with; the fact that a child, barely 16, had died due to his failings as both a teacher and a hero. The civilians that had been on the same floor had praised Iida, commenting that they had felt safe around the next Ingenium. They told everyone about how cool and composed he had been when instructing them to evacuate and then one even mentioned him running in to disarm the villain. Aizawa honestly couldn't have been prouder of the kid, Iida had been the perfect picture of a model hero. That's what it was all about, saving and protecting the public. That was why Aizawa was a failure; he couldn't even save one child.

Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do now. It was too late to save him. So all Aizawa and everyone else could hope to do was move on and grow from it, he had argued with Nezu for the fourth time about getting his class a specialist councillor and he'd finally agreed to it, saying he'd look for one. His kids really needed it, Aizawa could well imagine how the death of a classmate felt to them, and it wasn't any classmate either; it was their beloved class president. When the news was broken to them, Aizawa had even seen Mineta and Bakugou shedding tears, and neither of them were even friends with Iida.

It was safe to say that everyone would miss the boy greatly, Aizawa didn't even like calling him a boy; Tenya Iida had proven himself more of a man then Aizawa was. The hero course favoured the flashy and the violent, but true heroes like Iida were really overlooked. Aizawa would make sure to praise the model students he had in the future, he shouldn't waste so.much time with the problem children. There should be a balance; heroes are supposed to be the protectors, but who protects the heroes? Aizawa would've liked to say it was him, but clearly he was lacking in that department.

-

Black smoke, filling his lungs, stealing his air. He was choking, he was on the floor. He'd been asked to revv his engines, to show what they could do, now he was choking on his own exhaust fumes. He was on the floor, when did he fall to the floor? There was yelling all around him and he wasn't sure what was going on in the slightest. He felt his consciousness slipping away from him as he gasped for air, his eyes were shut tight but he could feel the tears running down his face. He finally lost consciousness as he heard one of the men yelling, "get both! Just in case!"

When he came to, he was laying in a bed. Judging by the room it was probably Toga's bed, the mattress was so soft and the aching feeling in his legs didn't feel so bad when he lay there. He was surrounded by Toga, the burnt man and three men Tenya hadn't met yet. One man was wearing a full body suit, in blacks and greys, the second man was clearly just a mechanic, the third being a doctor, both the two regular men were clearly being held at gunpoint. Tenya had the vague idea that this was illegal, but he was too tired to think much of it.

"Are you alright kid?" The burnt man asked, putting a hand on the bed frame, "apparently part of your engine got disconnected and we had to get a doctor and a mechanic to fix it for you."

"Oh," Tenya paused, he hadn't considered the fact that bring trapped under rubble would affect his engines, although to be fair, he didn't really understand how his engines worked- or at least he'd forgotten, "well they do kind of ache…"

The doctor nodded, "that'd be the stitches, they'll ache for a little while but they should degrade on their own… can I go home now?" The mechanic looked just as desperate to leave as the doctor, and both men were led downstairs by the man in the catsuit.

Toga sat on the bed next to him, "normally I like seeing boys all injured like that, but that was really scary- there wasn't even any blood!" She frowned at him, "are you sure you're alright? I don't want my new friend dying on me!"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm from very hardy stock."

The burnt man raised an eyebrow at that, "do you remember what stock? Recall any family members?"

"Hmm…" unfortunately Tenya still couldn't remember anything about his family outside of his last name, "still no, my apologies."

"Don't apologize kid, they abandoned you too didn't they? Didn't even care that their kid 'died', only about those poor, defenseless heroes."

"Yeah!" Toga added, frowning, "those meanie heros left you to die! You shouldn't care about them!"

Tenya nodded, that made sense to him. The thought of people calling themselves heroes leaving someone to die in a wreckage made his blood boil- he hoped that didn't translate to his engine, he didn't want to put any strain on it at the moment. Instead he just watched them leave the room, and he settled down for a nap; he may as well use Toga's bed whilst he had it.

Dispite Kurogiri's concern, Tenya had ended up moving into Toga's room anyway; they were the only ones close enough in age and since Tenya was gay and Toga already had a crush, the adults figured it would be fine. Tenya had been happy to help the burnt man, who Tenya later found out was named Dabi, set up his bed. Kurogiri even bought him an Ingenium poster, which Tenya found off because he could have sworn that *he* was Ingenium… but nevertheless, Tenya found it very nice of him, he hadn't been expecting that. The man known as Twice somehow managed to get him a new pair of glasses as his last pair had been broken, he'd also bought Tenya some bedsheets and pillow covers, as well as many books to help Tenya keep up with his studies.

In fact, Tenya was studying when Toga looked over at his book, "whatcha doin'?"

"I'm reading about algebra, see?" He showed her the notebook he was trying the questions in, "it's like maths but there's letters! It's rather fun!"

"Why would there be letters in maths? That doesn't make any sense!"

He chuckled at that, shuffling to the side so she could get on the bed with him, "oh it's easy when you think about it, come on; I'll show you." He put his bookmark in the book and flipped back a few chapters, understanding that Toga would probably need something a little easier.

"Let's try something simple, okay?" He smiled at her, beginning to write the question down when she nodded. "So let's say that A means one, and B means two, what would A plus B make?" He wrote the question down as he said it, making sure it was clear.

She nodded slowly, taking the pen from Tenya as she slowly wrote down the answer, at least she understood basic maths- although her handwriting was terrible. "Is it three? Or do I have to write down another number?"

"Well technically you're right, unfortunately the rules of algebra dictate that the answer would be AB."

Toga proceeded to look at Tenya like he was a moron, "so it's not even numbers? Why is it still maths?"

He sighed, unsure of how to explain it to her, "well you've got to figure out how to shorten the question I suppose, it doesn't entirely make sense- but that's what makes it so fun!" He smiled, knowing there was no point in explain it to her, she hadn't finished middle school so there wasn't much of a chance of her grasping algebra.

"You're so weird Ten-chan! Stick to liking murder like the rest of us!" She giggled, they both knew there was no malice behind that, her genuine smile showed that. Toga got off of the bed and went back to her own, toying with her knife. "Do you want to talk about Izuku?"

"Who?" Tenya didn't think he'd ever heard that name before, but he had a funny feeling of deja vu from it.

"Huh?" Toga was once again looking at Tenya like he was stupid, "you know? Green hair, freckles? Sometimes goes by Deku? Izuku Midoriya?"

A gasp, "Midoriya?" Tenya knew Midoriya, he loved Midoriya! Midoriya was his best friend, was Izuku his first name? Tenya felt a little guilty that he didn't know his best friend's full name, or even how he looked. To be fair though, he did have memory issues, so he couldn't be blamed really.

"Yeah! That's Izuku's last name! You wanna talk about him?"

"Of course I want to talk about Midoriya! He's my best friend!"

Toga giggled, taking out her phone and beginning to show him the photos she'd taken. They were photos of Midoriya, Tenya instantly recognized him, despite not remembering his face. The fear on his face in every photo was particularly familiar, and Tenya found himself having flashes of an image in his head, of nothing but pure worry and stress on Midoriya's face. Toga snapped him back to reality, beaming happily, "isn't he cute??"

Tenya had to nod at that, "his hair is very fluffy, and I like his freckles." He did agree with Toga, Midoriya was a lot more adorable than Tenya had expected. This was his best friend? Oh Tenya must be the best at making friends then, to befriend someone so pretty.

"I know, right? I like him best when he's covered in blood!"

"Why?"

A moment of silence and Toga paused, "I don't know, just think he's attractive," she shrugged, clearly not having a real answer. Tenya didn't really mind, he was just curious, he didn't actually care either way.

[kaetastic]

Where Have You Been? 2

pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!Potter!Aunt!Reader (no incest- just aunt and nephew battlin’ through evil :)), (possible future evolution to pairing with Sirius Black)

summary: After years blinded from the tainted power and lies, Y/N Potter finally sees the truth. The truth that urged her to clamber out of the hole created by the Dark Lord. Will young year-2 Harry accept the absence of an aunty he didn’t even know he had? 

word count: 4.8k

warning: fluff, heavy angst, guilt, mentions of death

note: lately, i haven’t found myself writing as much, i don’t think it’s w****r’s b***k, it’s just me being distracted by so many other things lmao. thank you for waiting this long for the second part, i’m pretty sure there’ll be a third :)) there’s no harry in this but i wanted to keep the pairing consistent

Harry was just a thirteen-year-old boy. He was a young wizard, trapped in the walls of muggles who wished they had nothing to do with his kind. There was no other safe place for the boy. If Y/N had not fallen into the rabbit hole that branded the mark on her arm, maybe she had the chance to keep her nephew with her. Y/N could do nothing about it. Despite her ideas of getting him out of that suffocating house, to finally enjoy the presence of someone she shared her blood with, to show him what magic truly was, she knew it would only place great danger onto him. Her life which had slanted down like that anticipated, fingers-digging-into-the-railing part of a roller coaster had gone from a flowery childhood to having no other alive family member if Harry was to be excluded. 

If the time she had been on the run was to be calculated, it would’ve roughly been thirteen years. Thirteen years of shifting houses to houses. Although, one year, she had feared for the loyal followers to be sent to capture her, the rest twelve, she had to constantly check over her shoulders for a sign of Aurors who were on a mission to chuck every last death eater into Azkaban. Y/N hoped the day where she would not have to leave a bed to enter a new one would come. The witch didn’t mind if it was sooner than said, it would be nice to open windows to the scorching sun with a cup of warm tea in her hands. It would be nice to walk on open streets without a heavy, ominous clock over her head. It would be nice to walk on the streets, not pathways that had been littered with spit. 

Although, the sweet victory taste she had dreamed for had turned bitter, acidic to her tongue as if those scenarios she wondered on for hours had been nothing but bait, a tease. The Privet Drive might’ve not been the best place for Harry, but it was the safest for the boy. Well, safer than going on the run with his aunt who had to keep glancing over her shoulders in case a shadow scurried after her. 

Even though the wizard had suggested he could follow her since she had magical blood, just like him, the witch had no choice but to turn him down. Even the frown on his face had embedded itself in her memories. The disappointment at the rejection of a better life with the sister of his father had plagued Harry’s time at school. Not before Y/N told him to not mention their meeting to a single soul. It might’ve been hard for the young boy, but he somehow managed… well, apart from his two other friends he had found a strong connection with. Harry had mentioned the name Hermione and Ron during the heart-aching conversation of the early morning in his bedroom. Unfortunately, it had been cut short when the witch had realized the time. 

Y/N was sick of scrambling around, running away and cowering from everything. Because she had not only feared the suppressed group that had gone either into hiding or had lied to not face the terrible consequences but also the Aurors. Aurors who had tied a price tag around her head. She couldn’t even defend herself. By that, the witch meant that the way her head had wrapped around the wrong she had done placed her perspective in an angle some people would not believe. In simpler words, Y/N believed- no, she knew that they wouldn’t spare a speck of mercy onto her soul. Even though she had thought of surrendering herself with hands high in the air, the Potter had not been dumb. Not to forget, she had pride. Pride to not give the golden trophy right into the hands of the Aurors. 

Then, she made a move. It had been a risky path she fell into, but she moved her Queen piece across the chessboard. The only piece she had defending her sole King. Y/N sent a letter to the headmaster of Hogwarts. Despite her worry about his response since he was in fact, the creator of the Order of the Phoenix, there was no need to overthink of the great wizard’s reply. Dumbledore waited for the day, not losing a bar of hope for the return of the witch. The day she would clamber out of the dark hole she had stumbled into. Taking a chunk of his busy and occupied time, the wizard had made time for her. It was not long before they met up at the place he had chided to her when she was just a twelve-year-old, the place he told her where one should go before they die. Although, the place didn’t live up to the wizard’s words as it had been nighttime, the perfect and safe time for her to be out of her lodging, and it had recently just rained.

“There isn’t anything I say that will defend for what I have done. What I’ve done… it’s unforgivable.” Her gaze trailed down to brush over the clumpy doughs of the drenched soil. The stretched-out shapes had been filled in with the recent shower from the tears of the clouds. Although, the teardrops had been pure, innocent without a speck of tainted colour, now- it was just clouded. Y/N wished that was how she remembered her horribly chosen youth. Unfortunately, it had all been crystal clear. Despite her trying multiple choices of blurring out the wrong she had done, every single moment plays in her head every night. It sat in her mind, permanently. 

With her lack of interaction with other wizards to minimize her appearance to the wizard community, obliviating herself wasn’t really an option. There had been some… pathetic muggle suggestions such as hurling her head against a wall. It didn’t take her long before she discarded the idea that would only cause more harm than good. Even though she wished she would not be reminded of such memories, she then remembered one of the few hopes that kept her hanging on that cliff. 

No one was placed at such a position like Y/N’s. Well, other than someone she had grown to associate with the passing of years while she was a death eater. Is it still ‘was’? Was the thing she needed to yank out of her chest in the past? The ‘tattoo’ still remained. As time passed, it had faded from the prominent ink. Even though Y/N felt joy unfurl in her chest at the thought of it becoming non-existent, ready to see her bare arm once again without the hideous memory from her past, it lingered. The mark stayed to torture her every second. The branding on her arm had been the last string that labelled her as a death eater. She had not found anything to remove it. Y/N had gone through books after books, crumbling pages to flying lines, unreadable handwritings to hidden, enchanted chapters. None had given her an ounce of hope she needed.

“There have been many people who’ve done nothing but wrong their whole lives, yet, they always had something to say. What makes you an exception?” The man quirked up, his silvery eyebrows jumped at her figure with his infamous words that had been packed full of knowledge and riddle. It had always been like that, ever since she was just a child, the man who still rocked his extensive beard had become a prominent feature. Although, the two lost contact as she dived into the side she was warned about during dinner. Dinners that lasted short, a smudged out memory. Y/N pressed her lips in thought, fingers twiddling without a slight intrusion in her head. A habit she had grown up with. And like as always, he cut her off with another sentence for her to process. “If I remember correctly, you mentioned in the letter that you have not done more than maiming someone.”

“In the name of the Dark Lord.” 

“Yes, but it was for your survival,” Dumbledore interjected. Oh, he always had his way with his speeches and his sentences. 

A sigh brushed her lips, creaking into the heavy air of the light wind toying with the hairs of trees as if they were puppets. Pushing her legs to rest her back against the bench that had been damp from the previous shower, Y/N murmured without peeling her eyes away from her fingers, “He killed Regulus. Regulus never came back, you know? After a trip, he was gone… forever. That’s what made me doubt my choices. His death was the sole reason I had left.”

“Regulus Black. Sirius’s younger brother.”

Y/N hummed while her arms slithered to wrap around her body, the chilling kiss of the air had been merciless to the defence of her clothing, “Regulus Arcturus Black. Whenever I was lazy to call his name even though it’s just seven letters, I called him ‘R.A.B’,” She let out a chuckle since it had been her joke for the boy to embrace the three letters as his signature, before the corners of her lips curled down in realization. “Although, now, I seem to find the longer being comforting.” 

“There’s no need to worry, what matters most is your safety. You must try to stray away from any sight of those who may seem interested. I will write a letter once Harry starts his third year.” Y/N nodded even though she was slightly reluctant to the life she would have to shift her own foot in. Deep down, she knew, no matter what other’s would say to comfort and calm down her nerves, she would always have something to fidget about. Something that came in the package when one falls into the Death Eater’s path.

It had barely been a month since she had met with the well-known headmaster, and Y/N hadn’t exactly found peace in continuing her life of being a criminal. The ability to sit still in a seat for longer than fifteen minutes was non-existent. Thoughts ran, scrambling from one side of her head to the other without rest. Every second, she would always have something to think of. A smart decision she made during her Hogwarts years was focusing during classes despite her side chores, so, it only became helpful when she needed a vial of ‘Draught of Peace’ or ‘Calming Draught’ to calm down her relentless thoughts. 

Harry recently started his third year at Hogwarts as the letter sent by the one and only, Dumbledore. The wizard had reminded her as he had promised; although, she remembered the day the students would be going back to school. Y/N could only stare into the abyss while she dreamed of walking onto the ground of the school once more. Oh, to feel the chilling stone walls during winter. She could only dream. 

It was for the safety of her nephew, and for her to stay in hiding that she didn’t write to the boy; even though she desperately wanted to. So, Y/N spent hours on the crooked wooden desk which had been slanted down, the folded piece of newspaper had begun to damp in the humid air, melting into the floor. The witch wasted hours of her day that flew by once she completed the letter to her heart’s desire. Days that stretched out when she didn’t occupy herself. 

She could barely count the number of lines she had scribbled down onto countless yellow sheets of paper. After a day of jotting down hefty block of paragraphs that was enough to build castles, she would stuff the pile of letters away, under her bed, or she would try her best to cram the sheets into the minuscule gaps between tattered books and the shelves. Most addressed to her nephew, now, just unsent thoughts that had been occupying her head, and desires of her heart which she had no one to pour out to. 

There was nothing Y/N could do. She was edging to the last sentence of her book, the last chapter of her story. If she was to stay, all she would have is Harry. Even so, she didn’t have him. The young wizard was hurled into the palms of her sister-in-law, muggles who hated whatever wizards were capable of. 

Maybe the only reason she reached out to Dumbledore was because she had information, intel that would be impeccably useful to the Order. Things the members wouldn’t even be able to smear against, things they can’t even imagine. Comparing herself to some members of the organization who had achieved great things in the available tasks by the Ministry, Y/N had seen far more than some of them has. She has seen gruesome sights, sights she wished she had glanced away from. However, she knew, she knew he was watching. 

That was her lifestyle now. The witch would have to suck it up, swallow the truth and deal with the reality she was stuck in. Stranded in a sole, pathetic room of a sad excuse of a building. Y/N had barely left the place she would have to call home. There had been multiple times the owner had tried to usher the lady out for a quick talk, Y/N did not want to risk anything. The only walls that had been present in the rented room were for the loo, that- she was grateful for. 

Then, news broke out into the wizarding community, it cracked over their heads like a spoiled egg, the yolk oozing out in a battered pace before it splattered into a squelch. News that sent everyone into a frenzy, news that made heads poked into corners of streets before they proceeded to walk the route they had been used to for years. News of the notorious Sirius Black breaking out of Azkaban. It was impossible. No one had fled away from the prison. He was the first. 

However, unlike most, Y/N knew things some didn’t know. It was not belief, rather, she knew the truth. Sirius Black did not do the things wizards and witches had whispered into each other’s ears. He was not capable of said-things. Y/N had met the man from his tight friendship with her older brother. Friendship that people had poked at him for being weak since he had shown his back to James. Those people knew nothing. They didn’t know how close they were for James to bring the boy to live at their house. They didn’t know that her parents had seen Sirius as their son. No one knew the truth, yet, they still let their words slip up into stubborn rumours. 

During her years of being a death eater, side-by-side with Regulus, her head held high without a quiver in her bone, Y/N had heard and seen things. Maybe some of them she should’ve not even eavesdropped on. It would’ve cost her life… she still did so. Y/N was meant to be in Slytherin, it was destiny that she had denied ever since the hat had spoken, and she saw her brother’s expression falter at the declaration. Despite her opposition to the situation, she wore the new shoes perfectly. The first few years, she was as close to her brother as she was before, any time she saw him in the corridor, she would wave, or they would pick up a desultory conversation. With that, he had introduced his friends. Y/N could see the tight rope around them, bonds she can’t see broken. Or so she thought. 

Then, it inched to her fourth year when she truly distanced herself. No, nothing would be blamed onto Regulus, no idea of his would be looked upon for the dead could not even defend himself. Y/N fell onto the path her parents had prominently warned her about. Their occasional talks about people who were surrounded with an aura that would send shivers down their spines sparked into muffled ears. Those lectures and lessons were all forgotten as Y/N found comfort standing beside the person she could not tear herself from. 

Walburga would accept the girl with warm embrace. Although, that came with its consequences. Y/N had to sit at the dining table, next to Regulus while the woman rambled poison-filled words about her parents who were not ashamed to be in the presence of muggles. The blinded girl did as her blurred head told her to do so, she tolerated the blows to her gut. It was only rare times when Regulus would speak up to stop his mother from hurling more onto the meal made by the elf. Despite Walburga’s hatred for Y/N’s parents, the woman had mentioned countless times that she had filled in the shameful place of her other son. Y/N was sure the empty space in her house had been plucked in with Sirius Black. 

Regulus would just be flushed with crimson red whenever his mother had brought up the two. She always took the chance to talk about how good they looked next to each other. There were few, forgotten times when she had dropped the word marriage. However, there was nothing but friendship between the two that would constantly burgeon, blossoming every second of every day. Walburga would swat it away, not believing them. 

It was true, despite the pureblood mother believing the two had something going on. It was nothing but friendship. Sure, there had been gentle kisses against cheeks, but it was nothing more. 

Everything then fell apart. She didn’t know who was amusing themselves by having a poke at the blocks of her life, but she knew it had wavered her platform. It was Regulus, then, it was her mother and father. The night when the elf had stumbled into the Grimmauld place, an ominous locket in his grasp, Y/N’s head went into a frenzy. She had never seen the creature look so distraught. The only reason she had remained at the house was because she had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t until days she would piece everything together. Regulus had gone, so the house-elf had confessed. The truth was not to be told to his family. How did anyone expect her to stay at the house she had made unforgettable memories? Y/N left, not even a farewell or a note for the family. 

The two had whispered conversations of the truth of becoming a death eater, they would do so under their breaths, afraid of who might listen. Whatever Regulus did, she did too. 

Kreacher said he had been ordered by Regulus to go back home with the locket, leaving the wizard to die. Y/N had screamed at the creature for his pathetic words, thankfully, Walburga nor Orion was at home. The two Slytherins had discussed of the Dark Lord’s attempt to murder the house-elf before they dived into countless pages, all so they could land to assume that the locket had been a Horcrux. The two eighteen-year-olds had just found out the deepest secret of the Dark Lord. And one of them died with the truth, while the other ran for her life.

If it wasn’t enough, Y/N could not even attend the funeral of her parents. The people she had not spoken to for years. She had listened to the words on the street that it was to Dragon Pox. It was then Y/N had to sit through excruciating months before she had the chance to visit their graves. The last she had seen their faces was a photo she had absent-mindedly packed before she had run away from home. If seeing her parents in flesh was in consideration, it was the sobbing mother who could not calm her hiccups in tears with every caress of her husband’s warmth. The photo might’ve been the best mistake she had ever made. 

In the midst of 1980, thoughts that would only surface when the sun no longer exists had steered the witch away from the path she thought she would be on until she bled to death. Just before she allowed the thought of living her life on the run consumed her, she had planned and listed out everything that would come as consequences if she was to proceed. That was when she tumbled over something. Still a death eater, she had stumbled upon the voice of a man who had been deeply trusted by her brother conversing with none other than the leader of the dark. His squeaky voice poured out every information he had about James and Lily. However, that was not the thing she had eavesdropped on. It was the fact that the man was Peter Pettigrew, the boy who would trail with the group. All so he could fall under the protection of the Dark Lord. What a grave mistake he had made. 

Y/N didn’t know what it was in her, but she then cut off any ties with the death eaters. That sounded easier than it truly was. There would be nights when she would feel her arm burn, flames piercing into her skin. He was angry, furious- she knew. All she could do was clutch onto the frigid sheets of the bed around her inflamed arm. She lived and survived, something she didn’t know how she came out successful, and lived her life on the run, always on edge. She stayed at multiple places, hoping the dark lord and his goons had not found her. To her luck, the pain dimmed down, she had only felt the faintest of a sting at the mark. 

Then, it was the unseen, unfortunate death of James and Lily. Y/N didn’t waste a second when she had heard a man regurgitate the words at the bar to sprint towards the house. The motionless figure of the man she once had picked on for accidentally wearing her jumper of an adorable bunny. So, she cradled his chilling body while streams of tears gush out of her eyes. There was no one left for her. That was, until she reluctantly pulled away from the corpse to follow the boisterous cries. Up the mess of a corridor and into a nursery with planks of wood decorating the floor She was met by a gruesome sight of her sister-in-law, flat on the ground, and the relentless toddler who the dark lord feared, her nephew.

Even though Y/N wished to spend more time, she had no choice but to peel herself away. She apparated away once she jumped through the window. Not long after, it was the rest of the Order’s turn to take in the event. 

Y/N knew there had been some death eaters who remained loyal to the dark lord despite his fall. Some had been locked up in Azkaban, while the rest still sauntered over streets casually. She knew some of them would be chasing after her, she knew the Ministry was searching for her, so why did she fall for the words scribbled by Dumbledore to meet up with Remus? 

“Sirius didn’t kill James and Lily.” Remus nodded, his eyes finding the sight of the pond to be more captivating. 

“I know.”

“Sirius didn’t murder those muggles.” Remus nodded once again.

“I know.”

“You know, yet, you had not defended the man when everyone’s ears had been stuffed with lies.” The wizard could only press his lips, lost in thought.

“Y/N, listen, we haven’t exactly been on the same path, but I feel like we are now,” The witch’s eyebrows furrowed. Remus swung from the same bench she had sat with Dumbledore. “I wanted to meet you when Dumbledore had told me he had met you. Although, I didn’t have a good excuse to do so. Now, I do.” 

His ominous words had only made her fingers crawl towards her wand. Neck snapping towards the rustling of leaves, she shot up from the seat, the wooden stick pointing towards the source of noise. With a spell murmured by Remus, her wand was out of her hand. She didn’t want to falter her gaze from the shadow that poured out of the bushes, but she couldn’t help her expression morphing into that of betrayal. Remus didn’t bother to send a face to comfort her. 

Y/N felt every muscle in her body freeze, every fibre was pulled taut before they remained stationary. The black dog paced towards her at a casual pace, almost approaching her carefully. Its eyes, it looked familiar. She had seen it somewhere. And no wonder… she had. Before her eyes, the dog transformed into a man who was dressed in tattered and shabby clothing of dull colours. The face of the man who had been plastered all across newspapers and streets, “Sirius?”

Maybe she should’ve panicked first, to why he had even put himself at risk, her even, but she reverted to another path. She saw Regulus in him. The infamous Black’s dark hair which Regulus would gingerly trim and take care of had flourished on Sirius’s head. 

“You’ve got to be joking me,” Y/N gushed out, the corners of her lips curled up in amusement even though she felt anything but amusement. “Are you out of your mind? You truly have gone insane in Azkaban.”

The witch turned to face Remus, “You too. Is this the plan of yours? What? To bag me up for the Ministry?”

Remus sighed out, his fingers splayed out against her wand, “Sirius wanted to meet you, the reason, he had not told me. This meeting is not a trick, no one knows Sirius is here.”

“Will you be holding my wand throughout this?” The man could only give her a slight nod of his head. Y/N let out a frustrated huff. “Fine, get on with it, I can’t wait to leave the country after this.” 

“Do you know of Peter’s boundaries?” Sirius’s voice sounded hoarse, raspy as if he desperately needed water. Maybe that’s what happens when one has just escaped a prison which was believed to prevent escapes.

Y/N’s face transformed into that of an offended expression, “Peter Pettigrew?” Once the man confirmed with a nod of his head, Y/N scoffed at the accusation. “What makes you think I know where he is?” 

“Well, you two bear the mark,” The words fell off his tongue without a care for her. “You two sold yourselves to Voldemort, it would only make sense if you knew where the traitor is.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but I have no idea of where he is.” 

Seconds morphed into minutes, minutes of Sirius’s eyes beaming onto her, “Have you bothered to search for him? Did you even know he was the one who sold out James and Lily to Voldemort?”

“I know a lot of things, Black,” Y/N sneered. “To satisfy your endless questions, I’ve done everything I could to find him when I happened to stumble upon his voice at the Malfoy’s home.”

“You knew that Peter was meeting with Voldemort and you didn’t bother to spend a cent on the thought that it would be James and Lily’s fall? Were you too busy snogging my brother?”

The mention of Regulus sparked up something in her chest, something that spun through hurricanes, Y/N’s expression hardened at the sight of the man, “Do not speak ill of Regulus.”

“Still defending my brother? You two never parted away from each other, every corner I turn at school, you two were always side-by-side.” Sirius could feel the corners of his lips curl up. 

“Sirius,” Remus interjected to stop the man, he knew this would not go well if the convict had not held himself back. 

“How hard it must’ve been for you to see him gone.”

Y/N could feel her fingers furl with every word he uttered, “He was your brother.”

“Was. I was exiled from my family, remember? You would remember clearly, I remember the day you left home to stay at that horrid place.”

“Sirius, that’s enough.”

“No! Remus! She must know the pain she inflicted onto her parents when she stepped away from that house, the sadness James drowned himself in when he couldn’t find any way to invite you to his wedding.”

“Would you stop mentioning my brother?”

“Oh, so now you consider him with sentiment? What happened to avoiding us?” 

“Are you done? I had only prayed the meeting with Remus to be civilized, yet, here you are.” She sneered. 

“Why do you fear of talking about James? Are you turning away like a coward? Now?”

“I don’t want to talk about James because I’m not in the mood for it, Sirius.”

“When are you in the mood then? Is it because you are saddened by the fact that you couldn’t take Harry when you visited their house?” Y/N accidentally allowed her eyes to widen at his words “You didn’t think we wouldn’t know?”

“I was in no position to take Harry.”

“You were in every position to take Harry!” Sirius yelled out, his veins popping up to bulge into the air. “You are his blood! His aunt! His godmother!”

“His what?”

taglist: @teheharrypotter​

[lupinsx]

Cherry Lollipop

masterlist

Request: Hii! Can I request a George Weasley x Slytherin!reader who is best friends with Draco, set post war, where the reader has always had a thing for him over the years. And she's in Diagon Alley with Draco, and he convinces her to go talk to George. And just awkward flirting and fluff?

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: After hiding from society in fear of the reputation Slytherins have, Y/N is forced to finally talk to her not-so former Hogwarts crush.

Word Count: 2k

a/n — I love this idea so much, thank you for requesting! I hope you all enjoy this, it was really fun to write.

tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings @malfoys-demigod @do-do-do-do-dora @ickle-ronniekins

*contact me if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

——————————

"You can't stay in denial forever, Y/N."

"Really? Because I wholeheartedly intend to."

You were currently stood in front of a shop. A particularly ornate building, one that stands out within the row of various older businesses. While you hesitated on entering, your best friend stood tiredly next to you.

It's been a year since the infamous Battle of Hogwarts. The one which solidified the awful conviction of Slytherins being inherently evil, declaring you, Draco, and all other former housemates as outcasts to society.

You have rarely exited your dainty flat since, choosing to cower away rather than comfort the wizards head-on; making this visit to Diagon Alley being the first in months.

"Come on, just talk to him!" Draco groaned in exasperation. You merely glared in response at his seemingly bold suggestion.

Laid in front of you two was Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, an esteemed joke shop run by recent students. It was the current sole owner of the shop your friend was urging you to greet—George Weasley, better known for being your longtime crush.

It was during your earlier years in Hogwarts when that particular twin caught your attention. Part of a mischievous duo, though he stood out amongst it as a man of his own. With his tousled ginger hair and trademark brazen grin, it was hard for him not to leave an impression.

And so, you watched him over the years. You admired George from the sidelines as he resided in the centre spotlight, his usual cherry lollipop poking through his cheeks as he and his brother receive applaud for their latest jape.

But never have you stepped out of the surrounding crowd. No, not once have you considered doing so.

You could thank your house placement for contributing to your reluctance to face your crush. The whole Voldemort situation had practically all of Hogwarts loathing Slytherins. There was too slim of a change that George would be exempted from that hateful majority, and you were too fearful to ask. Not to mention, you doubted George would be exactly eager to converse with the best friend of his younger brother's bully.

"What's so scary about talking to someone?" Draco asked, a slightly mocking tone passing through as he crossed his arms.

All it took was a gesture to the nearby wizards and witches to convey your point. "He hates me. Just like everyone else here."

"Everyone else here?"

"Merlin, Draco, you can't stay ignorant of the deprecating glares we've been getting since we arrived. Every corner is just a new judgemental scoff." Although Draco didn't attempt to deny your point, he chose to brush past it instead as he offers an encouraging squeeze to your shoulders.

"So, are you gonna go in or not?" He questions, allowing one final opportunity for you to take action through your own will. However, upon first sight of you shaking your head tentatively, he shifted your position to face the doorway.

"Alright, there goes your choice. You can thank me tomorrow."

And with that, he landed a nice shove onto your upper back, forcing you inside the shop with the sound of harmonious bells to commence your arrival. Just as you thought you could promptly slip out unnoticed, footsteps began approaching you, coming gradually closer until an imposing figure came into view.

It was George Weasley, the very owner you were afraid to see.

"H-hello," you stammered, inching closer to the doorway. The store was deserted, much to your confusion, though you quickly realized why upon glimpsing the closing sign displayed upfront.

George tilted his head and elevated an eyebrow, invoking internal butterflies to the slightest degree. "We're closed. I can't sell you anything."

"I didn't come here for that." Although you meant to say you had arrived on accident, he interpreted differently and instead gestured you further inside.

"Well then, I don't mind the company."

Turning on his heel, he then went back to restocking the shelves as your feet stood frozen in your position by the exit. However, all it took was a single glance at your direction for you to immediately follow after.

"So, Y/N L/N," George began, his eyes set on the objects in front of him, "you're the Slytherin in my brother's year, right?"

You only nodded timidly, taking a seat on the ladder next to him. Part of you felt worried about him knowing you, while the other part felt almost flattered. Regardless, you had too many thoughts racing in your mind to engage in normal conversation.

Noticing your lack of response, George looked up from the box with a warm smile. "A quiet one, huh?"

You were thrown off guard by the absence of clear revulsion in his expression. With his amiability mildly calming your nerves, you mustered a somewhat confident tone. "Only sometimes."

George gave an airy chuckle before returning back to the tedious work. You watched intently as he unloaded the boxes onto the shelves, his face contorting with every strenuous article.

Without much thought, you blurted out the one thing on your mind since your rather abrupt arrival. "You've changed."

"Changed?" he mumbled curiously, his attention now diverted from the task. "In what way?"

You paused, scrutinizing his appearance thoughtfully before responding. "I suppose you've gotten more mature. You dress fancily and have your hair a lot neater. No more cherry lolly either."

A grin spread across George's lips as he sat down on the floor, chin resting on his palm as he held a playful gaze. "I'm surprised you remember the lollipop. Flavour and all."

Your eyes diverted from his intense stare, arms crossed by your chest as you fidgeted in your seat. A smirk almost rose to the surface before you suddenly came up with an explanation.

"I mean, a lot of girls in my year were swooning over you. I've heard Weasley twins trivia nearly every day," you uttered with hesitance, attempting to conceal your former (and still remaining) liking towards him.

It seemed to have worked, as he stood up to resume his duties. "Then I'll take your observation as a compliment."

The area grew silent again, only the sound of him working filling the air. You simply played with the ends of your fingers as you tried to think of what to say. After a while of him unloading the products, George grabbed the box and dumped it into the storage room, heading to the front counter before gesturing you over.

Rather than going over there promptly, you stood up and spoke from your side of the room, inciting a questioning glance from the boy further away. "Are you a parking ticket?"

A cringe made its way onto your countenance as you grasped what was said thoughtlessly. Meanwhile, George stood confused by your question.

Without waiting for a response, you did what you always do best, and what was constantly discouraged by your best friend. The embarrassment was wiped from your face as you took a couple of steps forwards and continued your words with pride.

"Because you've got fine written all over you."

There was a brief moment of silence before George hunched over with mirth as a loud chortle escaped his throat. His amusement took down your short-lived confidence, replacing the proud smile on your face with a sheepish expression.

"Oh god, where did that come from?" George asked between laughs, tears welling in the corner of his eyes.

You bit your lip as you made your way to the counter, eyes faced down. "I don't know? I wanted to fill the silence, I guess."

"Here, I got a better one," he said as you leaned on the counter, George standing behind it while counting the register. He paused his movements to think, before perking up with a pointed finger.

Clearing his throat, he laid his forearm on the counter and leaned slightly. "Can I follow you home?

"Cause my mom always told me to follow my dreams."

You pursed your lips, shaking your head slowly. George had a look of disbelief upon seeing your expression. "Nah," you drawled, "I've heard better."

"Alright then, tough crowd, I suppose," he chuckled.

Being able to witness George's radiant grin up close and hear the sound of his buoyant laughter brought a smile of your own onto your usual inscrutable countenance. After a while of exchanging the cheesiest lines one could possibly muster, a thought occurred in your head, taking over your mind at a rapid rate.

"George, why don't you hate me?"

His face appeared visibly confused by your sudden question. "Why would I?"

"Isn't that how most wizards feel at this point? That former Slytherins are all Death Eaters in hiding." You paused, face twisting with regret before continuing, "Plus, I'd doubt your younger brother would be too fond of me either."

George reached for your hand rested on the countertop, gripping it assuringly. "You're not a bad person."

"But I—"

"Y/N, you were never a bad person. Sure, your friend Malfoy might have been an ass, but that's not you. I saw you during the battle."

Your face heated up as you retracted your hand to bury your face in the palm. Recalling the events, you knew you had nothing to be proud of during that time. "Oh god, I know I left early into it but I swear I didn't want to."

George only gave a light chuckle upon noticing your distress. "I know, but that wasn't what I was referring to. I'm talking about how you shot down a Death Eater and was ready to do it again until your parents threatened you."

"You... saw that?" It was inconspicuous, a result of an impromptu decision to go against your parents and Voldemort. Though the bravery was shut down after a mere minute when they had warned there would be no mercy if you'd continue. It was tough to simply abandon the fighting students, but when wands were pointed directly to your temple, what more can be done?

With a small smile, he nodded, staring directly into your eyes. "Yeah, I did. It was quite admirable."

At this point, you were beyond elated. Face noticeably a blood-red shade, you were afraid to spill your guts to the charming fellow behind the counter.

"I— uh, I gotta go," you spluttered, diverting your eyes to the spectacular posters surrounding the main display. However, your words caused George to stand straight with a slight sense of urgency.

Rushing to the back room, he held up a finger to stop you from leaving. "Wait, I have something for you!"

Your flustered state was put on a brief pause as you peered curiously into the narrowly opened doorway. Once George emerged from the dim room moments later, you were surprised to see a small envelope in his hand.

"I didn't know what else to put the stuff in," he mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he handed you the envelope. You clutched it tightly, your interest in its contents growing with each passing second.

"Thank you," you said, shifting your weight from side to side. Just as you were about to exit the store, George hopped over the counter and waved excitedly.

"Come again soon!" he shouted, the grin on his face matching the playful George Weasley you've always known back in Hogwarts. Biting your lip to prevent an overtly wide smile from arising, you nodded your head, pushing through the door as you internally squeal.

Later that night, once you arrived in your desolate apartment, you were quick to unseal the envelope and turn it upside down the reveal the contents.

First to fall was a piece of hastily ripped paper. The words were messily scribbled, though roughly understandable. Picking it up, a small giggle escaped your lips.

You must be a broom, cause you swept me off my feet.

Below the line was a phone number, your eyes widening upon catching sight of it. But before rushing to type it in, you emptied out the rest of the envelope. Only one other thing came out, causing you to beam with delight at the sheer nostalgia.

A bright red cherry lollipop, the very same kind you've spent years watching in the hands of George Weasley.

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a/n — Ah I'm so glad I could finally write another imagine for one of the twins 😭 Please like, comment, and reblog to show support! Feel free to send requests or feedback in my asks. Thanks for reading!