#.i never noticed how much almost everything makes me think of tia until they were gone.

[dreamerdrop]

I thought about eggs too long today, remembered that old youtube video with the egg song, and then started crying.

“Egss! Get your eggs here! Fresh and white eggs are here!”

Cut to me sobbing hysterically.

Grief is fun like that.

[wnderkoo]

summary: what happens when the man who broke your heart is your only option as a date to your sister's wedding? pairing: jungkook x original character genre: second chances au | fluff, angst, smut tags/warnings: angst?, post breakup awkwardness, oc is relatable tbh, some random telenovela i came up with from the top of my head, one bed trope cus im a whore for that (fight me i dare you) they’re still obviously in love ugh.

chapter one. | series masterlist

"There has to be someone else! Mami please." I've spent what seems like three hours having a one sided conversation with my mother on the phone and I'm close to my breaking my point. I know her english isn't very good, but it's just unbelievable how she can't understand what the words 'I. Am. Not. Going. To. The. Wedding. With. Him' mean. "But mija, all your tias and tios miss him!" She exclaims over the phone. "And I know you miss him too!" Her voice is over-bearingly whiny because I know how much she misses him too.

But I don't want to face him- I don't really know if I can.

My mother seems to notice my silence on her end of the line and sighs. "Please, just think about it mija. I think it will be good for the two of you." Her voice has gone softer, almost comforting, and I nod before realising she can't see me. "Okay mami, I'll talk to you later." I say, and hang up. I'm not sure what she means by that, since there is no us anymore.

The two of us had dated back in high-school- from the ninth grade until a few months after we graduated. We were, dare I say it, genuinely in love, and now I can't go to a single family gathering where my tias won't ask where he is or how he's doing. He's so friendly and loveable it makes me barf. We were perfect together, and I don't know what happened. All I know is that the day he told me we needed to talk was the day I stopped believing in love. If we were so perfect, why did it end? The next thing I knew, he had moved across the country.

The quiet of my apartment prompts me to sigh and run a hand through my hair. That exhausting phone call had opened all the floodgates and now, every memory from those two years together pooled in my mind. And as my eyes scan across my apartment, I see him. I see him on the couch, with me wrapped in his arms as we watch a movie- one that I know will make me sad, but I choose anyway just so he can comfort me and kiss my tears away. I see him across the room, in my kitchen, frying eggs as I sit on the island in one of his tee-shirts. I see him on my balcony, dancing with me in the rain because we're sappy like that, his bright smile shining even through the gloomy backdrop of grey skies and angry clouds.

And just like that, I'm missing him. I don't think I've ever stopped missing him, even in the relationships I've had after him. It sounds like a douche-bag thing to say, but no one has ever loved me the way he did, and I have never loved anyone the way I loved him. If I still believed in soulmates- he would be mine.

I wrack my brain trying to see where it all went wrong, coming up empty. To anyone on the outside, we were on a steadfast track to marriage and kids. But one day, maybe he just changed his mind. I remember how clammy my hands were as I stood in the elevator of his apartment, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I walked down his doorway. The four seconds after I knocked that it took him to open the door felt like hours, and the crestfallen expression on his face when he finally did open the door told me everything I needed to know.

It's bittersweet to think about how he held me as I cried. His arms were around me, holding me to his chest as if he hadn't just dumped me and thrown my heart on the ground to bleed out. Maybe dumped is too strong of a word. See, as heartbroken as I was, the breakup couldn't have gone any smoother. There were tears, a lot of them, and not just from me. I'm not sure why exactly he was crying- I was the one getting broken up with. But nothing was thrown and no cheeks were slapped, we merely held onto each other until we couldn't and I pulled away and weakly mumbled 'I should go now.' I'll never forget the way my heart split in two when he kissed me on my tear stained cheeks and whispered the words 'get home safe.'

It took me four days to stop crying at every little thing that reminded me of him, songs we listened to, movies we watched, things he'd say. From the nights I had spent stalking his social media I know that he's doing well, and as much as I wish he was miserable- I'm happy that he is. He seems to be okay after the break up, so I'm okay too.

I catch myself before the tears can start to roll down my face, deciding that tonight is not the night to be weeping. To distract myself, I decide to cook dinner. There's barely enough in my kitchen to make an almost plate of mac and cheese, but I seem to manage.

It's halfway through my movie marathon on the couch, when my phone rings. I fish it out from under the blanket and a number I don't recognise sits at the top of the screen. I hesitate before pressing accept and bringing it to my ear.

"Hello?" I ask, chewing on a piece of macaroni that was stuck in my mouth.

⠀

"Lina."

⠀

That voice. Deep and rich like honey, it echoes in my head and my heartbeat immediately picks up just from that one word alone. Shivers run through me and my body goes rigid. I could never forget his voice, no matter how hard I tried. When I don't reply, the voice speaks again.

⠀

"Lina? Are you there?"

⠀

"Yes." I immediately wince at the squeak in my voice and awkwardly clear my throat, willing myself to pull it together as I wait for his reply.

⠀

"Can we talk?" ⠀

⠀

The fancy sign plastered above the restaurant's entrance stares down at me, taunting me to go in as if it knew exactly who was waiting inside. 

Before I can convince myself to go home and that this was a terrible idea, I adjust my shirt for the third time and push open the door. I meet his eyes from across the dimly lit room and I almost turn around and bolt out the door. I don't know why I thought I could do this. See him, talk to him. But the second I see him sitting there, hair slightly messy from running a hand through it one too many times (a habit I know him to do when he gets nervous), I instantly freeze.

Jeon Jungkook still looks good as ever. His hair is longer and he looks like he has his life together. Good for him. Even dressed in a simple black shirt, he out dresses every man in the room. It almost pisses me off.

I didn’t know he was in town until he had called earlier and asked to talk over dinner. Was it petty of me to be upset that he didn’t message to let me know? Probably. 

I take a breath and walk towards his table. The restaurant is classy, but cheap enough that I wouldn't think of this as a date, not that I would anyway. "Hi." I say just as he stands. He's gotten taller. "Hey." He says with a smile. God, I almost melted on the spot. I missed that smile. I see him deciding whether or not to pull my chair out so I beat him to it, pulling it out myself. "You look good." He says as we take our seats. "Thank you." I reply, only letting a fraction of a smile show.

I'm not sure how i'm supposed to feel right now. I haven't seen this man in almost year, and the last time I did, he kind of really broke my heart.

When the waiter approaches our table, Jungkook orders for the both of us, knowing exactly what I like without asking. It's bittersweet, but even still, it makes a part of me feel warm.

When he had called earlier that afternoon, it was to ask if we could talk. I'm not sure wether he was referring to the wedding or wether he wanted to see how I was doing, although I'm pretty sure it was the former. I wasn't sure how long he'd been in town, or how long he was planning to stay, and maybe I didn't want to know.

"So, how have you been?" Jungkook asks after swallowing a sip of his water. Here it is, the awkward small talk that masks what we're both too scared to say. "As good as someone can be after the love of their life breaks their heart." I joke, feeling bad when Jungkook's face falls. "I'm kidding." I add quickly. 

The table goes silent.

"Anyway.." I cough awkwardly, reaching to take a sip of your own water. Please kill me now. "what about you?" I ask."Yeah, it's been good." Is his simple reply. Silence falls over the table again and I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole. It was never this hard to talk to him.

"So.." Jungkook begins. "Vera's getting married huh?" He says, almost in disbelief. My lips turn up at the corners, anyone who knew my sister knew exactly how much she could be at times. It was a wonder how she managed to find someone who could put up with her long enough to marry her. "Yeah," I smile. "Tae's a great guy."

Taehyung and Jungkook had met a couple of times. They were both family favourites at every gathering. My tias loved them because they were tall and handsome and never turned down one of their home cooked meals. My tios loved them because they were beasts at soccer, always fighting over who was on who's team at family matches.

"Tia Cora called me the other day.." My eyes immediately widen. I didn't even know my mother had Jungkook's number. "She said that I'm your date to the wedding now?" I close my eyes and exhale bluntly through my nose. I really needed to have a word with that meddling mother of mine.

"It's not official." I clarify. "It's just my original date is.. unavailable now," I internally cringe at how pathetic I sound. "And you might already have a date, I don't really know since we don't exactly talk, but if I can't find another date before the wedding, and if you're free, then I would probably need to go with you. I have no problem going alone, but I'm the maid of honor, so I kind of need a date-"

I stop, realising that I'm rambling and that Jungkook is staring at me, with a look of fondness? "I'll be your date." He says simply. I'm about to protest when he speaks again. "It'll save you having to look for someone else." He watches me as I think it over in my head, it would save me the dignity. And as pathetic as it sounds, I'd rather dance with Jungkook than anyone else.

"Okay then." I smile.

Our food comes and we waste no time digging in. We eat in silence, and this time it's a comfortable silence. The two of us take turns sneaking glances at each other and to any onlooker, it looks like your typical awkward first date- if only they knew.

I don't question why Jungkook and I couldn't have just talked on the phone and saved me the heartache of seeing him sit right in front of me yet be a world's reach away. But just for tonight, I'll let myself laugh loosely at his jokes and smile at his dorky face, no matter how much my heart pounds in my chest telling me how much I miss him.

We split the bill, because this is not a date. And afterwards we stand outside the restaurant in a bubble of awkwardness. It seems neither of us had thought it through up to this point. Do we hug goodbye? kiss? shake hands?

"Do you want a ride to the airport?" Jungkook asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Since my mother had booked my ticket, I'm guessing she also booked Jungkook's. "Oh.. if it isn't any trouble," I say timidly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that had been moved by the night breeze. I come to the realisation that I no longer know how to talk to him anymore, internally cringing at how I sound like a lame victorian duchess. "No trouble at all," Jungkook smiles, rocking backwards on the heels of his feet.

Silence passes and his eyes linger on me for one beat and then two. "You should head home before it gets late," Jungkook says, and I lift my gaze to meet his. I see him debating something in his head, but he doesn't seem to go through with it. "Goodnight Lina."

⠀

"Goodnight Jungkook."

⠀

Neither one of us makes a move to leave, eyes still on the other. Jungkook's stare seems to say a million words that he can't and maybe if things were different, I could ask him what they are and we would talk like we used to. It's only when he smiles tentatively, reaching forward and straightening my coat around my shoulders, that I finally turn around and walk to my car. When I turn around, he's still in the same spot, waiting until I'm in my car before he even moves a muscle.

I sit in the driver's seat of my car, smiling at him from behind the windshield, feeling all kinds of emotions. He waves before turning and walking the opposite way. As I stare at his retreating back, I curse the universe for not giving us our happy ending.  ⠀

⠀

It's 9am and my apartment looks like the aftermath of a tornado. Clothes thrown haphazardly over my bed spill onto the floor, makeup products a mess on my bathroom counter as I hurry to pack my suitcase in time to make it to the airport before our flight leaves.

My lack of organisation wasn’t entirely my fault though, I had thought I had another day to pack, but turns out that our flight was scheduled a day earlier than what I had read in my flight information email. Staying up until 4am watching Disney movies was entirely my fault though, and this exact moment is when I realise that my actions may in fact have consequences. After zipping up my suitcase and making sure I look decent enough, I hurriedly haul myself and my suitcase down to where Jungkook waits on the street in his shiny white car.

It was the same one I’d ridden in so many times, the both of us singing along to whatever music played on the radio. It was the car he picked me up in for all of our dates, and the car he drove me home with. The same car where we’d f-

Slamming the boot shut, I decide that my mess of an apartment will have to wait till after we get back from the wedding. I throw myself down into the passenger seat dramatically. "Good morning?" Jungkook says hesitantly when I sigh and slouch into the seat. "Morning." I reply, eyes closed as I rub my temples. I'm thankful when Jungkook doesn't question me and starts the car, leading us straight to the airport.

I'm thankful again when Jungkook does all the talking at check-in, loading our suitcases onto the conveyor belt before leading us to our gate. We stop at a cafe and I immediately slump into a seat, forehead meeting the wooden table with a thump. I barely register Jungkook's retreating footsteps until 5 minutes of silence go by before I hear him sliding into the seat in front of me and set something down on the table.

I lift my head and see two cups of coffee. I grumble a thank you when he slides one forward, sitting up and taking a sip. My eyes go wide when I taste the sweet liquid on my tongue. "You remember my order?" My heart swells when Jungkook nods. It may only be an iced latte with extra caramel and honey, but he still remembered. That fact alone makes my insides warm and fuzzy. "Thank you," I say, trying my best to give him a smile. It's the least I can do for being such a mess. "And I'm sorry I've been so grumpy this morning- I'm starting to regret that movie marathon." Jungkook chuckles and with it my world shakes from side to side. "Don't worry about it, you can sleep it off on the plane." He smiles.

As we wait for our flight to board, Jungkook and I engage in light conversation while we sit and watch planes take off and land. My head finds itself on his shoulder but neither of us acknowledge it, his shoulder is comfortable and warm against my cheek. I glance around the airport, people-watching. I wonder about each person who passes by, where they're headed and what their story is. I wonder what people think when they look at me and Jungkook, and what they think our story is. I wonder too. We're friends now I think, but is that how our story goes?

When our flight is called to board and the chaos of people lining up has my nerves tensing, Jungkook leads me with a hand on my lower back towards the tunnel. He takes our passports out of the front pocket of his backpack and hands them to the flight attendant, who rips our boarding pass before handing them back to Jungkook and wishing us a safe flight.

On the plane, we make our way through the narrow hallway towards row J. Jungkook lets me in first, letting me have the window seat although I know for a fact that it was assigned as his. I guess he remembers how much I love looking out the window during takeoff. When the captain comes over the PA system, everyone settles into their seats and the flight attendants begin with the safety briefing.

I barely listen, playing with bracelets that decorate Jungkook's wrist, a habit I formed back when we had dated. I draw my hand back instantly when I realise what I'm doing and lift my head, pretending to watch the briefing. I miss the way Jungkook's mouth turns into a small frown at the disappearance of my touch.

Once we're up in the sky and the seatbelt sign turns off, I stare out the window and watch the city fade into the clouds. When there's nothing left but blue and white, I sit back and yawn, propping my head up onto the arm rest with my elbow. It's uncomfortable but I'm on the edge of falling asleep, so my neck problems will have to wait. My eyebrows furrow when I feel Jungkook hold my head up, the sound of the armrest coming up between us confuses me even more, but when he lowers my head onto his shoulder I realise he was just trying to make me comfortable. I'm too far into sleep to retaliate by saying this can't possibly be comfortable for him, but he snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I love the warmth of his body, and im too far gone to care that we're way too close right now. But his arm holding me to him is comforting, and I let his thumb rubbing circles on my waist send me over the precipice of sleep.

The next time I'm awake is when we're just about to land, when Jungkook squeezes my side gently to ease me awake. I lift my head from his shoulder in a haze, wondering why my ears feel so blocked before remembering that I'm on a plane. The sun has set and the clouds are grey against the night sky. "Sleep well?" Jungkook asks tentatively. I turn to him and nod, rubbing my eyes. They widen in horror at the small puddle of drool left on Jungkook's shoulder. My eyes narrow at him when he only laughs at my mortified expression, waving it off by saying he'll change at the airport when we land. "Thank you for letting me sleep on you," I say bashfully, still embarrassed by the drool situation. "Did you get any sleep?" I immediately feel guilty when Jungkook shakes his head. "I got a lot of sleep last night. I didn't mind." I realise how much I missed how caring this man is, and it makes a pool of dread settle in the pit of my stomach.

I stare out the window as the plane touches down on the tarmac runway, tracing the colourful lights as we slowly glide towards the terminals. When I turn my phone on, It's almost 10 o'clock at night, I really slept for 12 hours? The plane comes to a full stop, and the seatbelt sign turns off just as the captain comes over the PA system, welcoming us to Amalfi, Italy.

Jungkook and I walk through the tunnel towards the airport, and I wait outside the bathrooms as he changes his shirt. I don't think I'll ever be able to live that down. When Jungkook comes out, his navy blue tee has been swapped with a white one. He gives me a smile before leading us towards baggage claim. I let him haul both of our suitcases onto a trolley, and I follow slightly behind him as he pushes it outside to the taxi bays.

Jungkook waves down a taxi and loads the suitcases into the boot before I can even help. He motions me into the backseat, before closing my door and getting into the passenger seat. As Jungkook makes casual conversation with the driver, I stare out the window, watching the bustling nightlife as it spills onto the streets. Everywhere I look there's culture and a warm, inviting atmosphere.

We pull up outside a nice looking hotel and thank the driver before getting out. I childishly run to the boot to grab our suitcases, pulling a face at Jungkook who merely laughs. The taxi takes off and I turn around and survey our surroundings, the hotel is right in the middle of a town centre with night markets and restaurants scattered throughout my peripheral vision alone. I'm too busy admiring to realise that Jungkook has taken our suitcases and is walking up the stairs to the hotel.

"Not fair!" I yell from where I stand on the street. I run to catch up with him, almost tripping on the stairs, just as he reaches the front desk. Jungkook ignores me as I stand next to him with my arms crossed, eyes boring holes into the side of his head as he talks to the lady at reception. "Enjoy your stay," She smiles before handing Jungkook two keycards and giving me a slightly worried look.

When he finally turns to me, Jungkook nods to my suitcase as if to say 'go on' and I grab it and saunter off towards the elevators with a flip of my hair over my shoulders. I roll my eyes when I hear his chuckle behind me, We get off on the third floor and Jungkook leads us down the hallway to our room. I stop dead in my tracks when I realise that my mother never mentioned whether she booked two rooms or one when I talked to her last. As I walk to catch up with Jungkook, I pray that there's at least two beds in the room. Knowing my mother, I'm sure she thought it'd be completely fine to make us share a bed, not knowing exactly how mortified I would be if that happened.

Jungkook opens the door to our room with his keycard and lets me walk in first. I hesitantly make my way inside, noting that the room is fairly nice, with a decent sized bathroom and a mini kitchen along the other wall. When I reach the heart of the room my face falls. "What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, walking in behind me. "There's only one bed." I mumble. It's a kind sized bed, but even that isn't enough room between the two of us for me to be able to sleep comfortably.

"I'm gonna go down and ask if there are any other rooms available." I say awkwardly. Jungkook holds out a keycard and I take it and practically run out the door.

After ten minutes of begging the poor lady at reception if there are any other rooms, and her explaining how they're fully booked out for the next few days, I'm on the edge of crying. I thank her for her time and apologise for being difficult before walking outside and calling my mother. I ask her what in the universe would make her possibly think I'd want to share a bed with Jungkook and she merely laughs and half asses an apology. I tell her that I'm tired and that I'll see her soon before hanging up and running a hand through my hair.

The air is warm and humid, yet everything feels lively around me. The streetlights cast a golden glow on everything they touch and, across the street, a band plays music outside a cafe while people talk and children dance. I stay out here, sitting on the top stair of the hotel, just admiring my surroundings before I eventually get up and head back inside.

"Lina?" Jungkook calls from somewhere in the room as I shut the door behind me. "I was starting to get worried," I hear him chuckle. I take my shoes off and throw them down in the hallway before plodding into the room. My face morphs into confusion when I see where Jungkook has made himself at home on the chaise lounge chair by the window. "What are you doing?" I ask, a hand on my hip.

"You can take the bed," He says and I immediately shut that down with a forceful no. "You take it." I say. "It's only fair since you let me sleep on the plane." Jungkook opens his mouth, probably to object, but I cut him off. "And you're too big for the couch, Jungkook. Look at you- you're literally about to fall off." He can't argue with that, body already halfway off the couch. "Well then I'll sleep on the floor." He shrugs, making me sigh. I can't let him do that, he already sacrificed 12 hours to make sure I slept comfortably on the plane, any more and people would call me a sadist.

"Get up," I say. "We'll sleep on the bed, just um.. put some pillows between us." It seems logical, we're both adults- we should be able to sleep in the same bed together. But I know that somehow I'll manage to wake up tangled in him. My body simply can't stay away.

"Okay," Jungkook says, sitting up. I hold back an 'I told you so' when he groans in relief and stretches his back. "Do you wanna order room service for dinner?" He asks, sitting down on the bed. I saw a nice restaurant down on the street, but we had a whole week in Italy, and tonight had been more stressful then I intended, so room service it was. "Yeah, I'm gonna take a shower though, so just order what you think I'll like." He nods and I grab fresh clothes from my suitcase and walk into the bathroom.

10 minutes later, I walk out with a towel around my head, dressed in a cream spaghetti top and sweatpants. The smell of lasagna and steak lingers in the air when I step out, and my stomach makes an involuntary noise. Jungkook stands to take his own shower, and I sit back against the headboard, switching through channels on TV as I wait for him.

He comes out in less time than I did, now in a black tee and pyjama shorts. His hair is messy and wet and I get the sudden urge to run my hand through it. I cough to cover up the fact that I'm checking him out, averting my eyes elsewhere. "You didn't have to wait for me, you know." Jungkook says, sitting down on the other side of the bed. "I didn't mind." I say, handing him his plate of lasagna.

We eat, watching the random Italian telenovela playing on the TV that I’ve become engrossed in. Lucia has just been dumped by her long-term boyfriend, Alessandro, who tells her that he is doing this for her. He cups her cheek with his hand, "Amor, I love you more than anything in this world, and if it means seeing you thrive in the arms of another, then I will let you go. You deserve more than I can give you, and I will cherish every moment we had together for the rest of my life." She screams and cries, begging him not to leave her, but he does, with teary eyes, whispering, "I will always love you." I don't realise how deep my frown is until I turn and see Jungkook's worried expression. "Sorry," I stifle a laugh. "Poor Lucia, they were so perfect together." Jungkook hums in agreement at my statement before going quiet again. I don't question it, far too invested in Lucia and Alessandro's love story. By the end of the movie, Alessandro realises that Lucia is the only one for him, and runs to her, confessing his undying love before she unhappily marries someone else. They reunite in a flurry of tears and kisses, and she whispers against his lips, "I can thrive in your arms too,"

At some point we had gotten under the covers, pillow wall in between us as agreed. Jungkook had turned off the lights after brushing his teeth and the credits of the movie plunges us into almost darkness. I turn, and the white light of credits illuminates the tears in Jungkook's eyes. "That was beautiful," He says with a sniff and I grin. Jungkook reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, making the room pitch black. I stare up at the ceiling, unable to stop thinking about the movie. There's something more than just the part of me thats a sucker for romance.

"Hey Jungkook?" I ask into the darkness. After a moment of silence I realise he might be asleep, turning onto my side to follow. "Yeah?" He finally says. I didn't really have anything to say, maybe I just wanted to hear his voice. Or maybe I wanted him to ask if I was thinking the same thing as he was.

"Nothing, goodnight."

 I hear the smile in his voice, even in the dark, when he replies.

⠀

"Goodnight Lina."

⠀

this is actually from my  wattpad archives, i wrote it back in like september and thought i’d post it on tumblr for all you lovelies <3 

❀ taglist: @mwitsmejk @jxoni​

[aquanova99]

What do you think the Egyptian Coven looked like immediately after Benjamin brought Tia home? The guide says that Amun wasn’t happy, but that he eventually got over it. But what was it like before he got over it?

Welcoming Tia to the Coven

➽───────────────❥

Okay so fair disclosure, for my own worldbuilding I refuse to make Benjamin and Tia mates. He’s 15 and she’s 17 and they were cousins. But they were both very protective of eachother and see eachother as siblings.

When Benjamin was taken in he felt for the first time in his life, a family. Unconditional acceptance and love he had never felt before. He hadn’t planned on going back for Tia, but as his new family asked him more about his life before his human memories faded forever, he remembered Tia. The one who had convinced his uncle that his gift would bring him money for performances. The girl who often snuck the him food if they forgot to feed him, the one who always took accountability for it and would often get punished for doing so. Though she was younger she knew how to get away with much less severe punishments. Benjamin had been determined to get the both of them out of there before he disappeared.

Kebi comforted him but mistakenly said she wished there was something they could do. Well, Kebi funny you say that. Benjamin waited until he could control his thirst, hating he had had such a hard time controlling it. It took hin about five years opposed to most peoples two. But he was still determined, to help his friend. He made sure to feed before sneaking off to find Tia, but he couldnt wait anymore.

Tia has gone from being forced to sing for to being returned to her mother, to being forced to marry someone she had interest in. And unlike her uncle, Tias husband was unforgiving. She became a shell of a person she once was, and while Benjamin gave her the choice, Tia saw no other option. Benjamin offered her something she had never known. Stability, a family, and the guarantee she would be able to protect herself.

Benjamin asked Tia to wait while he got his “parents” as obviously they had no idea thats where he had gone to after he went hunting. Benjamin was able to explain quickly and quietly enough for Tia to not hear. Because truthfully if she had known Benjamin hadnt said anything she would have had a panic attack right then and there. Shed been pushed away one too many times.

Kebi and Amun were wary of a new addition to their coven. Kebi pushed to accept the young girl after remembering everything Benjamin had told them. She brought Tia inside and for the next few days explained all of the rules and expectations. Tia was silent. Listening intently to everything, determined not to make any mistakes in her new life. Amun noticed how quiet she was and was worried she was regretting following Benjamin. He felt torn because while he is not fond of surprises he felt a strong inclination to help and protect the young girl who had already been through so much. Besides Kebi already likes this girl (so does he but he won’t admit that to anyone)

Kebi expressed how impressive Tia took in all if the things she had learned. Only asking questions to clarify. Kebi began growing more visibly excited and began clearing out a space for Tia to reside in but getting Tia to say anything about what she liked was almost impossible. Tia cried alot and she wouldn’t speak to even Benjamin, who also began getting emotional at feeling like it was his fault she was feeling this way.

This is when Amun finally relents. He asks Tia to go out into town with him so she can get them some stuff they need for their home without drawing suspicion. Tia agrees because mainly she’s terrified of getting hit or yelled at like she was before. Amun pays close attention to Tia on what seems to catch her eyes. Or when he goes to talk to someone makes sure he observes what she touches or grabs her attention. He quickly figured out asking her got them nowhere

“So Tia, tell me. What’s on your mind?”

She unknowingly began answering any and every question and concern Amun and Kebi had built up over the week. He buys whatever seems to stop Tia in her tracks and tells her to eat. Tia is at this point shocked that Amun is being so nice to her because he had tried to keep his distance. He learns about her fear of the transformation process and he is able to explain it in a way that seems to calm Tia down. He buys her a dessert and takes her home and debriefs Kebi. The two of them wait until Tia is asleep before they go get things that could go into her room to make her comfortable, and some things for Benjamin as well. Kebi spends the rest of time Tia is sleeping making and buying food for a feast before her transformation process. Tia wakes up to the smell of the delicacies she had never been able to enjoy much of.

She tries to tell Kebi that she doesn’t need all of the food. Amun is quick to step in. He tells her that since she’s still human she needs to be as strong as possible before she’s turned (not true) but she accepts and has a great last day. Amun takes Benjamin away while Kebi is the one to change Tia, they still worry about his control. They then take Tia away until she wakes up. When she has fed, they take her back to their home and finally show her her room which prompts some painful sobs from Tia. She is excited to feel accepted and loved and much to everyone’s surprise runs into Amun in an embrace that he is slow to melt into. She does the same to Kebi and Benjamin and the rest is history bb.

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

[galaxxiwrites]

Your expecting fathers HCs are so good. May I please ask for HCs for G'Raha, Urianger, Haurchefant pls

kdjgkdkgodkfd Thank you so much for liking my blurbing (//ω//)

warning: game spoilers!

Expecting Fathers (ft. G'raha, Urianger & Haurchefant)

G'raha Tia

Wouldn't he be G'raha Nunh by now though?

"Hmm, yes. That's goo— Wait, what?"

G'raha almost rips the page off the book he was reading in shock.

He's not imagining this, right? This isn't a dream either, right? You were really pregnant, right!?

He doesn't take notice of just how long he's been in a daze until you play with his ears a bit, getting him to shiver at the touch.

"Forgive me I— You—"

G'raha fidgets as he tries to think, but his mind is much too panicked. He may be well over a hundred years old, but he's still the same, easily flustered boy at heart. He just knows how to hide it better....most of the time.

Locks himself up in his study all day just to read book on parenting.

Didn't you raise Lyna, you asked as you brought him some much needed food and drink.

"Yes, but...I always kept the girl at arm's length, because I knew I did not belong with them. What if I do the same with our child?"

You gave your beloved catboy miqo'te a small peck on the lips and a short embrace. When you suggest that you read the books together, he feels his heart melt; he's fallen in love with you all over again.

The two of you end up reading parenting guides while snuggling together, his anxiety now slowly turned into confidence as he thinks again that falling in love with you was the best choice he had ever made.

Tries to keep the pregnancy a secret for as long as possible, but his attempts immediately fail when he's bombarded with congratulatory teasing the next day by the Scions, most especially from Krile, Y'shtola and Alisiae.

The red-haired male swore he could see you and Tataru mouthing an apology from the corner of his vision.

Urianger Augurelt

Urianger would be the calmest of the three when he heard of your pregnancy. He isn't shocked, since the two of you planned for this.

"It finally worked. Good job, me."

Being an absolute nerd who he is, Urianger would read books to you to get you to sleep. He reads you light stuff though, mostly heart-warming fairy tales.

Makes you breakfast in bed, and has medicine on the ready if you ever have bad morning sickness. It isn't anything too complicated, but it's enough to get you energized.

As much as he hates it, he's willing to do exercises and workouts with you. You and the child's well being are much more important to him now than his literal physical inability to be fit.

Whenever you're feeling too stressed out, for whatever reason, he'll play some calming music and slow dance with you. Sometimes he'll even hold you by your bulging stomach and pretend he's dancing with the baby.

He has everything planned down, including your menu for each day of the week. You're surprised at just how much detail he put into the planner, though seeing the bags under his eyes it's not hard to believe that he's been going the extra mile lately, especially if your due date was near.

Never intimidated by the though of raising his own offspring, especially when he has you by his side. What he is worried though is his natural inclination to take measures into his own hands, often leading to him deceiving the rest of the Scions.

He's made a conscious effort to change, but old habits are hard to bury. He always feels a pang of regret whenever he has to lie to you, and thinks that one day he'll do something that would ruin you trust in him forever...but if it was for the sake of protecting you, he'd willingly do anything.

Would definitely suggest a name relating to the moon, as a namesake for his deceased friend Moenbryda.

Haurchefant Greystone

About damn time

Haurchefant is over the moon when he hears that your pregnancy is confirmed.

He immediately goes up to his family to tell them of the news. The reactions he got were...not out of his expectations. While his father was proud, his brothers were not as enthusiastic, their tones almost seemed to mock him.

Still, the results don't deter Haurchefant. He's been waiting for this for so long, and he promises you that nothing will ever happen to you nor the child.

Everyday he kneels down and hugs you by your waist, and everyday you have to constantly remind him that it's only been a few days of your pregnancy.

As much as he wants to spoil you when you have weird cravings, he tells that that he'll make you something healthier instead. He does, however, let you have some cheat days, especially on the more horrible days.

Encourages you for morning walks with him. If it's too cold out, the both of you could do some simple work outs inside.

You will have to physically stop Haurchefant and his father from buying baby things. Though, it is cute to see the father and son argue about which one would the theoretical child like more.

Speaking of the Fortemps, it won't take long until your pregnancy becomes the talk of the town. While Francel and his family celebrate the incoming baby, many of the nobles look at you indifferently. They'll whisper things like a bastard giving birth to a bastard, or they let another outsider into the family? ; Haurchefant never lets their words get to him, and makes sure to cheer you up if he notices that their malicious stares are getting on your nerves.

"They can say what they want, but what does it matter, love? You have me, and I have you, and that child will have us. Even if no one approves of us, what's important is that we have each other."

Bonus: WoL helps raising the child after Haurchefant's death; though they initially do it out of guilt, WoL has come to cherish the child as if they were their sibling.

[accioxreparo]

memorias | g.w.

synopsis: You finally work up the courage to go back home for día de muertos after nearly twelve years for a trip you find that both you and George needed.

pairing: George Weasley x hispanic!reader

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of the wizarding war(s), a bit of grieving

a/n: I know, I’m bad at time management but I loved this idea too much to not post it. I know it says hispanic reader but please don’t feel like you need to be one to give this a read! 

Also I’m a native spanish speaker so if you google translate the spanish it might not make too much sense so I’ve put the spanish phrases in italics and the translations will be right after [bolded and in brackets like this] just to make it a little easier to read.

I’m curious to know what you guys think about this one so feel free to hit me up with your thoughts/questions if you’d like! 

The soft golds and warm reds that met every single place your eyes landed on brought back an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. Sugar and smoke mixed together in the air like nothing else did and it was like you were seeing yourself as a child all over again. Memories floated around in your brain. Ones that were happy. Ones you knew didn’t deserve the treatment you’d been giving them recently.

“Can you tell me about these?”

The sound of George’s voice interrupted your thoughts. He was drifting towards one side of the uneven cobblestone street crowded with people and lined with booths. You couldn’t help but stare at the soft, excited smile on his face as he looked all around him. He was curious and it was a look on him you’d never get enough of.

With a smile on your face you held his hand tighter and pulled him in the direction of a booth covered in little wooden animals painted in every bright color you could imagine. You picked one up and set it in the palm of your hand, grinning in amusement when George touched the top of its head just to see it bob up and down again.

“It’s an alebrije,” You told him, setting down the little figure. Almost immediately he picked up another to examine it more closely. “It’s mostly just art. Tomorrow especially, though, they decorate almost every ofrenda since kids tend to love them.”

George nodded, hanging on every word you told him just as he had been for the last two days. It had been that long since the two of you had arrived at your mother’s house. It was only that long that you stayed and now you were headed off to the place you really wanted to visit.

“Tomorrow’s the first day, right?” George had to resist the urge to pick up every single little creature he saw and hand over a pile of colored bills. Instead he let you pull him away again, his attention being caught by all the buildings surrounding him.

“Yeah. Everything has to be prepared by nightfall to greet the spirits of children on the first of November.” You nodded and stared down at the stones underneath your feet, kicking a few across the street as you walked. George immediately noticed your silence but before he could say anything you spoke again, looking up at him with a newfound smile on your face. “Have I ever told you about my Tia Valeria?”

“Once or twice,” He laughed a bit, recalling the countless stories you’d told him before already. He dropped your hand just long enough to be able to throw an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him as you walked. “Tell me more.”

“We’re going to see her now actually,” When he looked at you shocked you only grinned. “She’s the one who took me in after I started at Ilvermorny. My mom wasn’t too into the whole magic thing after -”

You stopped again and George knew exactly why. It was the same reason you’d avoided being home for years now. It had been twelve years now since you’d been back and it had taken a lot of convincing along with an argument or two to get you here. He didn’t fail to notice the way you plastered another smile onto your face, pushing the topic to the back of your mind.

“Anyway places like these are called pueblos mágicos [magical towns] by the muggle government. See how every place here is a different color?” You watched as George looked around again, waiting until his attention drifted back to continue. “It’s to symbolize the town’s culture. For some places it’s the history it has, others it's the traditions that have been in place for as long as anyone can remember, and for some it's just the natural beauty they have. They’re called magic because of those reasons. There’s 121 right now all over Mexico but there’s something muggles don’t know about them.”

“What’s that?” George asked before you could say another word. When he caught you holding back a laugh he rolled his eyes playfully before leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Come see for yourself,” You turned down a seemingly normal street until you came to a steep grey staircase that looked like it was built right into the rising hillside.

But you didn’t go up the staircase. Instead you moved to the right side and placed a hand on a statue that sat on the very bottom step. Once again George focused only on your movements as you dropped his hand and traced a swirling pattern on the back of the statue, mumbling a quiet revelio.

There wasn’t a single thing you did that didn’t amaze him and this wasn’t any different. He watched as the stone stairs shifted, morphing into an archway before his own eyes revealing a whole separate part of the town that looked even more alive than the one they’d just snuck to the outskirts of.

“Almost all of them are hiding actual magical communities.” You smiled as you stepped into the shimmering archway, turning around to find George more astonished than ever before. “Well c’mon.”

George had been in awe of everything you’d shown him so far. The view of the sun setting from the peak of the little town your mother lived in. The carefully crafted decorations that hung all over. The sea of colors that blended perfectly together everywhere he looked. The way you lit up with excitement every time he asked you to tell him more about the things and places you grew up around.

This place was different though. It was so much like the places he’d visited as a kid but at the same time it was in a league of its own. There were kids running around and potions shops and small evidence of magic everywhere. But there were also items he didn’t recognize in shop windows and spells being said he hadn’t heard before. He wasn’t too sure he’d ever seen anything like it at all.

“She’s waiting for us,” You said after glancing at the pocket watch that hung on a chain on your own bag. “Trust me, we don’t want to be late.”

George didn’t move though. Instead he bit his lip momentarily before fidgeting a bit and holding on tighter to you. “I’m nervous.” 

“You’re nervous? Really?” You couldn’t help but smile as you moved back in his direction.

“Don’t laugh,” As he said the words, though, he let out a laugh of his own. “Fred and I must’ve read practically all her books when we were trying to work out some of the products for the shop. It’s a little intimidating meeting somebody who has their own chocolate frog card.”

“But your own brother has one?”

“He doesn’t count,” George shook his head and gave in and started walking beside you again. He didn’t take in everything just yet, though. “Honestly, do you think she’ll like me?”

You nodded without hesitation. “I know she will.”

It took an extra hour but finally you and George had managed to weave your way through the countless streets until you reached the main square, only stopping to buy little trinkets twice.

The door you walked up to led to a shop that had papel picado decorating the outside of the windows. It wasn’t like the ones you’d seen earlier though. These had little figures dancing across the colored paper, almost looking like they were laughing.

You smiled at the sight of them, memories of helping your aunt make and enchant them flashing through your mind. George’s eyes followed the little figures across the paper and he laughed at the sight of them, “You said she makes them herself right?”

“More than just a world renowned alchemist,” You smirked a bit as you walked into the shop with ease despite the closed sign on the door. “Though I guarantee she’s still going to yell at us for being late so get ready for that.”

It was like it was planned. The moment the words left your mouth was the moment your tias voice rang from the back of the shop. George chuckled at the way you winced and started trudging towards the source.

“Que hora es esta de llegar? Ya pasan de las seis, te dije que llegaras antes de las tres!” 

[”What time do you think it is? It’s passed six and I told you to get here before three!”]

“I know, I know,” You sighed as you stepped into the backyard the shop led into. It was covered in plants of all sorts, both magical and non magical. No less than three crups ran back and forth all over the place, the biggest of which barked loudly and ran for you. “Es que este quería ver las ofrendas que pusieron en el pueblo alla afuera. Como le puedia dicer no, iralo, que lindo.”

[“Well this one wanted to see the ofrendas they put up all around the town. How was I supposed to say no, look how cute he is!”]

“Quien -” [“Who -”] She looked up suddenly, forgetting for a moment that you were bringing somebody with you. Almost immediately she sighed and she put down the large steel cauldron she’d been burning some leaves in. “Of course!”

“Tia this is -”

“Don’t bother, mija, I know exactly who he is already,” She walked over and stood beside you, staring at George as if sizing him up despite the fact that she was at least a foot shorter. He couldn’t help but feel as if she was looking into the very depths of his mind and honestly given what he knew about her he wouldn’t be surprised if she was. “Es el marido.” [“He’s the husband.”]

“Novio, tia,” [“Boyfriend, tia,”] You tried to fight the blush that crept up your face as you shook your head quickly. “We’re not quite there yet.”

“Y porque no?” [“And why not?”]

You changed the subject quickly, shooting around to face George again. He could tell you wanted to change the topic but frankly he was curious about the bits and pieces of the conversation he was able to pick up. “George meet -”

“Call me Valeria,” Your aunt immediately waved you off, shooting a momentary glare in your direction, silently telling you the conversation was one you’d be forced to continue later. “Believe me, I’ve heard so much about you, mijo, we hardly need an introduction.”

“Thanks for letting me come visit,” The quickness with which he went from feeling a little nervous to completely at ease surprised him. It felt shockingly similar to being at his own home and he loved it immediately.

“Por supuesto,” [“Of course,”] She shook her head with a smile that faltered for only a second, so fast that he almost didn’t notice it. “I think we all needed this after the year we’ve had.”

“So um,” You gulped a bit at the overwhelming sound of silence that felt much too loud. More memories flashed through your head. This time it was everything you had dealt with during the war. Things you shouldn’t have had to face but ones you did anyway without hesitation. The fights and the training and the dueling and the teaching.

It was all the reason you had gone to England in the first place. What had started off as an assignment turned into something you couldn’t have possibly imagined. Funny enough you didn’t regret parts of it at all.

“Where do we start?”

*

George had rarely been anxious before in his life. He didn’t like the feeling. Not at all. But as he stared down at all the things he’d brought with him with your assurance that they would do, he found himself slowly pushing the feeling away.

It was especially comforting to feel your presence right next to him despite the fact that you were as anxious as he was. It was your first time celebrating dia de muertos in twelve years. He knew all about your own struggles with accepting what had happened during the first wizarding war all those years ago.

It was then that your father had died in a duel not a couple days before the first defeat. When you were old enough to understand you’d decided immediately you would follow in his footsteps. It was the cause of the rift that had grown between you and your mother, the same one that pushed you and your aunt closer than ever before.

She was the one to support you when you decided to attend Ilvermorny over Castelobruxo. She was the one who had told you stories of your father. She was the one who had seen you off when you left for England and never once judged you for not being able to handle the overwhelming emotions and memories that flooded your mind at the beginning of every November.

And she was the one who stood with you now, helping to prepare the ofrenda that would soon hold pieces of memories you'd been ignoring for twelve years.

“Three levels,” Your voice was soft and a little hoarse as you took George’s hand in yours, each of you feeding off of the feeling of each other. “They represent the underworld, the earth, and the sky.”

You moved to hand George various pieces of papel picado before picking up the purple tablecloth and the white lace for yourself. “Hang these along the edges and above.”

He could easily recall the explanations you’d given him as the two of you had bought the rest of your necessary items earlier. George looked between you and your aunt for a moment before gently touching the tip of his wand to each piece, watching as the little figures came to life right before his eyes. “The wind right?”

“When they blow in the wind it means our difuntos [deceased] have arrived,” Valeria offered him a smile that didn’t quite look completely there before handing him the orange marigolds he’d seen everywhere the last few days. “The charm to get the petals off the cempazúchitl is simple. Scatter the petals up all the way from the front doorway to the foot of the ofrenda.”

George stared at the marigolds in his hands for a few moments, frozen in place. The color was bold and loud and reminded him too much of his brother. There was a bouquet of them sitting on the kitchen table at the Burrow and they were the exact same kind of flower he had left in front of Fred’s grave just a few days before alongside you.

You had told him the meaning of them then and your words echoed through his head now. They’ll help guide him home.

When he came back you’d finished setting up the bottom level with your Tia Valeria finished the highest level. You walked over to him the second he entered the room, wiping the ashes off of your hands before reaching up and setting a hand on his cheek.

George hadn’t realized there were a few tears in his eyes until you gently wiped them away. It was silently that you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips and almost immediately he sighed.

“Are you ready?” You nodded behind you and when he looked he could see your aunt digging out several pictures from a cabinet on the other side of the room. “This is the most important part.”

It took George a few moments before he nodded, eying the bag he’d left in the living room carefully. “I’m ready.”

First came several mismatched cups and two large pitchers of water. Each cup was poured to the top and the pitchers were refilled before they too were set on the middle level. Next was the bread you’d picked up from a bakery, pan de muerto, along with the sugar skulls.

Valeria put down a variety of sweets, ones she said your grandfather, uncles, and various other family members loved. You placed a few bars of a bittersweet chocolate you’d picked up at a store in the muggle part of the plaza earlier on the table. The same ones you could vaguely remember your dad always having stocked in his pockets. George put down a couple chocolate frogs and a box of Every Flavor Beans, the bad ones already picked out.

The three of you laughed together as you put a couple different bottles of alcohol, both magical and non magical, down next. A bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey brought back more than a few bittersweet memories of Order meetings at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Then it was time for the pictures. One by one photos of family members who had passed were set on the ofrenda. Your grandfather and one of his brothers who had both fought against Grindelwald years ago. Several aunts, uncles, and cousins alike. Your father who’d been a casualty of the first wizarding war.

George held on to the picture of Fred for a second, not daring to look at it just yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to either, you’d been close to both of them after all.

“Let me tell you something my brother, your father, told me when our papa died,” Valeria walked over and took the picture out of George’s hands. It was clear where you got your personality from because she placed one hand on top of your intertwined ones.

The two of you watched as she looked at the picture, smiled, then moved towards the ofrenda.

“Hay que vivir sonriendo para morir contentos,” She set the picture in the very middle right next to the chocolate frogs, a handful of ton-tongue toffees, and a faux wand. “You have to live smiling to die happy. What do you think your brother would say if he was here now?”

George suddenly let out a loud laugh and looked at you, both of you thinking the same thing. “Reckon he’d tell us to snap out of it.”

“Then snap out of it,” Valeria took out her wand and placed it at George’s temple first. “Think of your happiest memory of him.” 

George closed his eyes and thought his hardest for the perfect one. When he found it he let out a shaky exhale and nodded. His eyes opened just in time to see a blue whisp at the end of the wand being placed into a vial.

Valeria repeated the same process with you, telling you to think of your dad. Then she took the vials and set them down on the ofrenda. “Memorias, memories, to remind them of how much we love them.” She then motioned towards the single bottle of firewhiskey that was left on the counter and grinned at the two of you. 

“Vengan, [Come on,] that bottle isn’t going to drink itself.”

*

Three days later both you and George felt more at ease than you had in awhile. The celebrations had come and gone and you’d cried a bit, sure, but also laughed and took part in every celebration going on both in the magical part of town and the muggle part.

You’d even gone to visit your father’s grave for the first time since you were just five years old. The strange feeling of being at peace was one you weren’t expecting. One you weren’t sure you’d ever feel again.

But there you were sitting in the middle of your Tia Valeria’s backyard in the dark watching the fireworks dance across the sky for the third night in a row.

“Did I ever say thank you?” George asked from where his head was laying in your lap as your hands ran through his hair. He was focused only on you and chuckled a little when you grew genuinely surprised.

You shook your head, hair falling in front of your face as you looked at him. “For what, mi amor?”

He couldn’t help but grin at the name, now knowing fully well what it meant, and reached for you. “For making it easier. For being there for me when I really didn’t think I could get through it.”

A soft look of complete understanding and affection spread across your face as you took his hand. “You did the same for me, you know.”

“Guess we really did need this then, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, kissing the palm of his hand before letting your head fall onto it. “We did.”

“Any chance we can come back soon?” George laughed again and looked up at the sky, his view a combination of you, the fireworks, and the dozens of the little wooden alebrijes he’d finally given in and bought flying all around. “I quite like it here.”

“Any time you want, mi amor.”

[marmolady]

New Horizons

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Liv and Reggie are starting school in San Trobida. Notes at the end!

Word Count: 9695

Chronology: After 'Growing Pains', before 'How the time escapes me...'

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading!

San Trobida, July 2035

“Hey, Auntie Grace!”

Reggie looked up from his book at the sound of his cousin’s voice, and hastily placed aside his shiny new copy of ‘A Guide to San Trobidan History’ so he could rush out into the hallway.

Grace was already wrapping Liv in a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed the side of her niece’s head, before her eyes wandered down to a bloodied knee. “Did you have a mishap on your bike on the way here?”

“Yeah… I clipped the kerb and crashed,” Liv said, offering her aunt a better view of her wound. As she heard Reggie’s footsteps, she looked up to meet his eye and smiled.

“Youch!” Reggie offered sympathetically as he came close enough to peer over Liv’s grazed knee.

Liv shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Grace, though, was more concerned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”

“No, just scraped my knee. It does actually sting a bit.”

“Hmm. Well, I think we’d better put some anti-septic that knee just to be safe.”

The new house was a mess. Boxes and misplaced furniture filled every room, and the twins-- six years old-- had been making forts with the packing boxes that had been emptied so far. The family had been in the house for just over a day, and some good progress had already been made. There had been a lot that had been left behind. Neither Aleister nor Grace put too much value on material possessions, so most of what had come with them and the children to their new home in San Trobida had been essential furniture, and the mountains of photo albums and memorabilia from a life with the kids.

Grace sat Liv down on a wooden ottoman, and, after a little bit of rummaging, found the first aid kit.

“Okay, this might hurt just a little,” she said gently, and she carefully dabbed Liv’s graze.

Liv yelped, “Fuck!”, causing Reggie to gasp, looking to his mother for a reaction, and Erin and Immy to burst out giggling from inside their box-fort.

Grace raised an eyebrow, but her warm smile didn’t shift. “It stings that much?”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, flushing a little. “Sorry about the language.”

“I’m sure I didn’t hear a thing.”

There was the usual bustling around as Aleister got the girls into their shoes; Immy and Erin had decided that swapping one shoe with one another was the peak of humour, but eventually, their father managed to get them each into a left and a right-- even if they didn’t match. Six-and-a-half-year-old sisters, Reggie had come to realise, made just about everything more of a headache than necessary.

Eventually, though, they were on their way. His mom and dad, walking beside the twins as they pootled along on their bicycles, had the address, but Reggie rode ahead with Liv, taking her lead as she zig-zagged through the streets of Valle Brava. Having only set foot on San Trobidan soil as a new resident some twenty-four hours ago, everything aspect of his environment set his senses alight. This wasn’t like being back in America. Perhaps it was the tropical climate, but he was reminded much more of La Huerta-- of home. Liv certainly seemed right at home here. She and her mothers had settled a few weeks before, and Liv had been coming here pretty much all her life. There were just a few blocks between their respective houses, and the wide cycle paths along the bitumen roads made for an easy journey. This, Reggie had been told, was a newly developed area; much had been re-built since the war he knew his Tia Estela had been involved in. The cycle paths ended as they came nearer to Liv’s place, a little way out of the main township. The foliage on either side of the road became thicker, and there was less street noise, more birdsong.

“Beat you!” Liv announced as she planted her feet into the ground, forcing her bicycle to a stop.

Reggie grumbled, pulling up beside his cousin in front of a humble bungalow-style house with outer walls a vibrant azure blue against yellow accents. The sound of a dog barking-- unmistakably Liv’s Robin, was further confirmation they’d arrived. “You didn’t beat me, Livia. I was following you. I didn’t even know where we were going.”

“Jeez, dude. No one likes a sore loser….”

“I am not a--!”

The door swung open.

“Reggie!” Taylor wasted no time in sweeping her nephew into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you still have the energy for cycling over here-- didn’t you move house, like, yesterday?”

Reggie laughed. “Hi, Auntie Taylor!” There was something about seeing a familiar face in this new environment that made the pieces seem to click into place. Family made it home. “I’m a little bit tired but mostly just excited. I did sleep in today, so I guess I won’t crash until later.” His sisters on the other hand… there was no way they’d last the evening without overtiredness rearing its ugly head.

“I’m guessing your mom and dad are on their way with the girls?”

“Yeah,” said Liv, “but they’re pretty slow. I don’t have to wait to give Reggie the grand tour, do I?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. Hang on, Liv? Walk your bike through the house, please.”

“I was gonna!”

Reggie could only smirk. Like hell you were….

“Aaaand,” Liv finished off with a flourish, “this is my room!” She opened the door to a good-sized bedroom. It seemed to Reggie that what floor-space wasn’t taken up by the bed was piled up with boxes.

“I mean, I can’t say the mess wasn’t a clue.”

Liv gave her cousin a look as she flopped into her bed. “Hey-- moving house is hard. You’ll see soon enough. You get started all excited, but once you start living your life, you kinda get… stuck. Mama Taylor says we’re going to just blitz it all next weekend, and throw ourselves a pizza party as a reward.”

Reggie got up onto the bed and crossed his legs. “Do you like it here?”

“I love it here! I always liked coming here when I was little, so I guess it doesn’t feel like something completely different. I reckon my tio abuelo is over the moon that we’re here for good; it’s like I’ve got a grandparent now.” Liv’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away.

Understanding, Reggie nodded. Together, they’d grown up in a family that didn’t take the traditional shape. There were some things that simply couldn’t be explained to other friends; like why Reggie’s grandma could help him with his homework, but could never come in for grandparents’ day, and why Liv had a whole side of the family with no grandparents at all-- not even dead ones.

“And,” Liv continued, “people don’t really look at my Mama Estela funny. I noticed that years ago. I guess ‘cause of the war, people don’t look twice at someone who’s maybe a little bit banged-up. I got so sick of it back in America. Every time we met someone new, they’d put on that ‘God, what happened?’ face. Maybe Mom doesn’t want to explain the whole ‘revolutionary in a civil war’ thing to every random person who can’t mind their own business. Some people have scars-- big freaking deal. It’s better here.”

“Yeah, that would be a nice change. The amount of times I’ve seen you and Auntie Taylor look at a nosy idiot like you want to deck ‘em--”

Liv burst out laughing. “True, that.”

The sound of excited barking rang out from the backyard. It seemed pretty likely to Reggie that his parents and sisters had just arrived. When he and Liv arrived in the backyard, Erin had already joined Estela at the barbecue, desperate to be involved, while Immy was passionately talking to Nicolas about goodness-knows-what. Reggie made a mental note to rescue him in a few minutes; that kid could be intense, and the poor old guy had come out here for a relaxing lunch with his niece.

Nicely, but firmly, Reggie nudged the wriggling, writhing form of Robin the dog to the side so he could join his mother and Auntie Taylor at the large alfresco table under the porch. And Robin returned to his favoured position at the feet of the barbecue-- Erin was just a kid, surely, she’d drop something….

“Do you need a hand with the salads?” Reggie asked as he greeted his mother with a hug. He’d been seeking a lot of those. With so much changing, familial comfort meant a lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Perhaps more than anything, though, he was grateful to have Liv by his side. It was the way it had always been; from their toddler days on La Huerta, through elementary school, to their adventures in home-schooling. Some things might change-- some things might change immeasurably-- but he always had his cousin.

___________________________

La Huerta, 2028

Liv yelled out as she splashed down into the shallow surf. “Reggie!”

“I got her, Xiraana!” Reggie cried, and soon he was joined by a young Vaanti girl, who helped restrain their victim.

“No, no!” Liv squealed as she struggled. Vaanti kids, she’d long ago realised, were strong. “You’ll never take me alive!”

“Five-- four--- three….” Xiraana counted down, not letting Liv out of her grasp.

“Two-- one!” Reggie finished triumphantly, and he let his cousin fall unceremoniously back into the water. “The klaawyi ate all the meat off your bones. You’re one of us now!”

Liv pouted, but admitted defeat. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; she was pretty good on Team Klaawyi anyway. Or, she would have been… had she not seen the figure of her favourite uncle descending onto the beach from the great tree of Elyys’tel.

“Tio Diegoooooo! Hiiiii!” Liv ran across the sand, almost tripping in her desperation to reach him.

“Hey, Livia!” Reggie cried out, indignant at being suddenly abandoned. “You’re meant to help us catch them!”

But Diego had crouched down to wrap Liv in a hug, and Reggie might as well be talking to a pile of rocks for all that was being absorbed.

“Tio, they got me! Reggie and Xiraana got me, and now I’m a klaawyi!”

“You?” Diego laughed. “You’re no klaawyi-- I’ve never seen a klaawyi that was ticklish!”

“Wha--?” Oh no. Once again, Liv was shrieking with mirth, this time dodging the tickling hands of her tio.

Still standing in the shallows, Reggie stomped his foot, which achieved little but splashing himself in the face. The game went on without them; games of Klaawyi Chase didn’t stop for anyone. The usual fun on the beaches outside Elyys’tel would go on like this every day… whether Reggie and Liv were there to join in or not. And Reggie didn’t want to miss out now.

“Come on, Livia!”

She just shook her head, not letting her adoring gaze up at Diego slip for so much as a heartbeat. “Nah,” she said. “I’m done.”

Torn, knowing that whichever direction he ran in, he’d lose out on precious time with friends, Reggie admitted defeat and rushed back to Liv’s side on the shore. He looked back over his shoulder and waved goodbye-- for what he’d been told would likely be a long, long time. Engrossed in their game, his friends gave just the most fleeting of farewells before continuing to race through the small waves that lapped the beach.

Liv, in contrast, had eyes only for her tio. She clasped his hand tightly; if she held on tight enough, perhaps he’d have no choice but to come with her to wherever her mothers were taking her in the big aeroplane.

Where exactly she was going, Liv didn’t quite understand. It was away from La Huerta, but they weren’t going back to live with Tio Nicolas, they were going… someplace else. Someplace with no Tio Diego and Varyyn, where all the other kids would be boring shades of pink and brown rather than blue and green, and where no one knew about the yeti-bear, or the magic crystal alien that made her mom, or about The Story of the Year the World Stopped.

“I want you to come, Tio Diego…,” Liv softly beseeched.

Diego’s eyes grew misty, her earnest words having tipped him over the edge after what had been a long period of emotional build-up. Goodbyes were never easy, and Liv’s family was his family. He squeezed her little hand gently.

“I’ll visit you, Livi-- I promise. Cross my heart. And your mommies will bring you over to visit us here too; you are going to learn so many new games at school that you can teach Xiraana and the other kids.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

Having rejoined Liv, Reggie peered up at Diego’s teary face with concern. “Diego, you’re making your glasses all foggy.”

“Ha. I know, I know!” Diego wiped his eyes. “You might have a point there, Reggie; I want to spend this last night with you guys actually being able to see you!”

Liv giggled and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s legs, only to be peeled off and hoisted into the air. “We can still have fun until bedtime, can’t we? Will you tell us a story?”

On the ground, Reggie danced around, his arms waving. Diego-time was the best story-time.

In the arms of her tio, her playmate since she was a baby bouncing on his knee, Liv was a mess of emotions; of fear and excitement, of merriment that competed with the looming sorrow. It was more than her little self had a clue what to do with. She was only five.

Sensing his cousin’s turmoil, Reggie reached up a hand and took hold of Liv’s, hanging down by Diego’s side. “Don’t worry, Livia! If you worry, you won’t enjoy story-time.”

Liv stuck out her bottom lip. That little nerd-face could be pretty smart sometimes. Tomorrow night, there would be no goodnight story from Tio Diego, but tomorrow night was not now-- now, everything was as it should be. Her wavering grin returned, and to her delight, it brought matching smiles to the faces of her companions.

“Do you think Varyyn, and my mommies, and Auntie Grace and Uncle Alli, and Auntie Grace’s tummy babies want to listen to the story too?”

“Yeah,” Diego said, letting Liv back down to the ground, where she immediately found another hug in Reggie’s arms, “I think everyone would really like that.”

_____________________________

San Trobida, August 2035

“I don’t get it,” Liv said thoughtfully, as the car rolled right on past the turn for her Auntie Grace and Uncle Al’s place. “It’s right on the way; wouldn’t it have been easier for us to pick up Reggie?”

“Hon,” Taylor replied, “I think Reggie wanted his mom and dad to take him to orientation. They’ll probably be better at helping with his jitters than we would be.”

“I guess.” Liv looked out the window, watching the surrounding vegetation thicken once more as the car followed the road up out of the valley. “Orientation Day shouldn’t be too bad, right? Just, like, meeting our teachers, learning where stuff is, that kinda thing?” And you’ll have to try and make friends. That would be a laugh.

By the time they pulled up at the Las Selvas Secondary School, however, Liv fully understood her cousin’s nerves, and realised that was probably why she’d been so disappointed that he didn’t share a car with her. Through every big change in their young lives, his presence had been a reassuring constant.

“Uggghh,” she groaned. “Can I change my mind? Home-schooling was all right; more of that, please.”

Estela leaned from the front seat and gave Liv’s knee a squeeze. “You know, I don’t think he’d ever say it, but I’m pretty sure Reggie would be really scared if he had to walk into this without you. Besides, you were so excited about starting here; you owe it to yourself to at least giving it a shot.”

Again, Liv groaned, this time even louder. “It’s so annoying when you’re right.”

“Story of my life,” Taylor laughed, while Estela smirked.

When they pulled up at the school, Reggie was already waiting, standing beside the car-park while his parents fussed over him.

“You have your phone?” Grace quizzed, checking for the fourth time since they’d set off.

“I told you, yes!” Reggie replied, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to wave around for good measure. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready to be picked up, I promise.”

“In that case, you just have a wonderful time, darling.” She wrapped him in a hug-- already Reggie was easily as tall as her. “Go well, and have fun.”

Liv rushed over, all smiles. Her own nerves were a whole lot less bothersome when she had the distraction of friendly faces.

There were a few more rounds of hugs exchanged-- and then, suddenly, Liv and Reggie were on their own.

“You wanna head over? Looks like people are already crowding around-- it’s probably gonna start soon.”

Reggie’s expression brightened, as if he’d been just waiting for a little push for his confidence to surge back forth. “Well, it will hardly be an auspicious start here if we miss the principal’s address. Get a move on, Livia!”

The morning passed relatively quickly. Liv placed herself next to Reggie at all times-- they’d been put in the same Grade Seven home room as requested, making him one of the eldest in the class, and her one of the youngest. The whole set-up wasn’t entirely different to the school they were accustomed to, other than the bilingual approach. They were given a small pile of boring paperwork, and outlines of what to expect in their new classes; as English was their first language, they’d be taking ‘Spanish as a Second Language’, and Liv was also excited about ‘Nature Studies’, a subject she’d never been offered in America.

As far as Liv was concerned, the most traumatic part of the session was being expected to stand up in front of a room of strangers and give a short spiel about themselves. The perfect opportunity to officially balls-up any chance they might have of making new friends, or at least that was how she saw it. She mumbled down into her chest; something about enjoying hiking and gymnastics, something about liking Batman, and animals, and then she hurriedly sat right back down with flaming cheeks. Reggie, she observed, handled the brief foray into public speaking with rather more poise. Even though he was shy-- perhaps even more than she was-- he seemed able to go into ‘school presentation’ mode, and breeze through. When he sat back down, though, his hands were shaking-- but that was for the eyes of his trusted friend only.

When the lunch break came along, Liv was ravenous; a new and challenging social situation could do that to a person. While Reggie sloped off to the bathrooms, she tested out the school canteen, emerging a little while later with a hot empanada. It wasn’t quite as good as her Mama Estela’s, but it was definitely a step up from what was on offer at her old school. Maybe she could get used to this place….

Liv watched this new world go by all around her as she ate, cross-legged beneath the tree she’d told her cousin to meet her by. Kids moved in their little circles, talking loudly, laughing. Most of them coming into Grade Seven had come from the local primary school, and many knew each-other. Liv and Reggie would be starting out on the outside… and that was daunting. She could not be more grateful that she wasn’t taking this on alone.

Or… at least, she shouldn’t be. The lunchtime queue moved on, the gaggles of kids spread out, and still Reggie hadn’t returned.

Damn, constipated on your first day. Sucks to be you, Reggie.

Tentatively, Liv approached the boys’ bathroom and, having ascertained that no one was watching, slipped in. Her footsteps were unheard, drowned out by the loud, frantic breathing of young Reggie, slumped over the sink. Alarmed, Liv rushed over. Tears were spilling down his cheeks.

“Reggie… it’s okay,” she said gently. A little unsure, she reached out a hand to rub his back, and to her surprise, he didn’t flinch away. Slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.

“Liv…,” Reggie panted. “You know you’re not meant to be in here; this is the guys’ room.”

“Hey! Like it’s my fault you didn’t take your anxiety attack into the unisex bathroom. That’s on you.” Hmph. Ungrateful, much?

Reggie scowled, and dragged his cousin out of the toilet block by her arm. He slumped down by the wall, and scooched over to encourage her to join him.

“You’re a pain in the arse.” He was still shaking.

“It’s been said, yeah.” Liv huddled a little closer. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You’re not going to have any trouble making friends. Did you see they’ve got a chess club, and a photography club as well? At least that’ll get you talking to people.”

“That’s,” Reggie said quietly, “not exactly what I’m worried about.” When Liv looked at him expectantly, he continued. “When I was in a room with all those kids, my head just went back to being at our old school… and what happened. I know this place is meant to be progressive and all that, but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s okay. What if I think I’ve made friends with someone, and they find out about Erin, and they make it a big thing, and then some arsehole finds out….”

“Man, you’re really spiraling,” Liv observed, not especially helpfully. She wasn’t exactly surprised by what was troubling her cousin; getting into a fight in defense of his young transgender sister had completely unseated Reggie from the comfortable life he’d had at the last school. It had changed everything.

“You would too, if she was your sister!”

“Probably. But I think you should at least give people a go. It sounds like they’re really strict on any kind of bullying against minorities. Swinging back hard in the opposite direction after that fascist dictatorship.”

“Those are some awfully big words for you to be throwing around there, Livia; watch you don’t hurt yourself….”

“Hey! I know my stuff!” Liv demanded. “Do you think my tio abuelo would have it any other way? But anyway, I’m right. All the people who didn’t fit in before have come to this part of the country. Probably a lot of the kids have parents who saw really horrible things in the war; they wouldn’t want to send them somewhere that was bad like before. My Mama ‘Stel gave the principal the grilling of her life, and I bet she hasn’t been the only one. People are gonna want to make sure their kids are being looked after.”

A smile quirked on Reggie’s face as he imagined his aunt on a school tour. “I bet Tia Estela left Principal Sanchez quivering under the desk.”

“Yeah… after what happened in the last school, there’s no way they’d let us go anywhere unless they were sure it was a place that treated people right.”

Reggie knew that much. But his parents, and even his fierce aunt, could not shield himself, his sisters and his cousin, from everything. He contemplated silently, grateful for the patient companionship.

“I guess,” he said at last, “if no one gave anyone else a chance to be anything but the worst, then we’d be pretty lonely.”

“Yup. We should at least give it a shot. And if it all goes in the crapper, I’ll sic my moms on the fools that mess with us. And the freaking yeti.”

Reggie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That had always been Liv’s answer to everything. “Livia, I hate to break it to you, but if you go around threatening people with yetis, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose. Except me; I know you’ve got a screw loose.”

“So damn rude,” Liv growled. “Anyway, you really should eat something. It probably won’t help you feeling crap and light-headed if you’ve got an empty stomach. They’ve got arepas!”

“...I could eat an arepa,” Reggie admitted. There was only so much a young boy of thirteen could control; he couldn’t wave a magic wand and guarantee that his little sister would never be hurt by cruel, ignorant words, but he could look after himself, so that he was the best him he could be-- and the best brother.

_____________________________

USA, 2028

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” Taylor said kindly as Reggie delicately placed his knife and fork atop his small plastic plate, signaling that he’d finished. Immediately afterwards, the little boy’s small hand had dropped to his side to get a reassuring touch of his teddy’s scruffy fur. “It was nice of Big Bear to join us for dinner. Does he like lasagna as much as you do?”

Reggie yawned widely as he nodded to his aunt. He hadn’t known it was possible for a kid to be so full of yawns, but living with newborn twins had shown him just how big a tired feeling could be. “Big Bear likes to watch from the floor.”

“That’s nice of him to let you have the whole plate for yourself. We’re gonna have plenty to bring over to your mommy and daddy for them to eat tomorrow.”

Lasagna had been Reggie’s choice. This whole sleepover was to be all about him; giving him a welcome break from the stresses of being a new big brother to two babies at once. He’d been on many, many sleepovers at Tia Estela and Auntie Taylor’s place before, but this time felt different. Reggie knew that at home, his parents were busy with their other children… and in his sensitive state, it took no time at all for him to miss them.

Twins, Reggie had come to realise, were very hard work. They cried a lot… and his mommy cried a lot, and his daddy cried a lot, and he cried a lot. All crying and no sleeping was not a whole lot of fun. Reggie wanted so badly to get away from the babies, but at the same time he longed to be with his parents. However much fun it was to take a break at his aunts’ place, the worry in him just wouldn’t go away.

Side-by-side, he and Liv changed into their pyjamas. Five-year-old Liv, true to form, nattered away to him the whole time. Babies, of course, were the subject of choice.

“My moms say we’re probably not gonna get another baby. Maybe ‘cos you have two I can borrow one if I get lonely. Do you have one that you like best?”

Reggie shrugged.

“Maybe next time your mom and dad will have three. You could have all these babies like a baby army, and if someone’s ever mean to you, you will have like a hundred poopy diapers you can throw at them. No one likes poop.”

“I don’t want lots more babies,” Reggie said softly. I want no more.

“If you don’t like babies, you can come and live with us forever!” Liv suggested brightly, oblivious the the wobble of her cousin’s bottom lip.

When Estela popped her head around the corner to check on the kids, Reggie was in tears and Liv looked totally bewildered.

“Mommy, Reggie’s crying…,” she pointed out, rather unnecessarily, for her mother had already scooped the little boy into a cuddle.

“It’s okay, mijo,” Estela soothed as she gently rocked her nephew in her arms. “It’s okay to cry. This has been really hard. You know what? You have been such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”

Liv, not quite sure what to do, but nothing if not well-meaning, draped herself over Reggie and patted him on the back. “There, there. It’s okay.”

Estela took Reggie into the lounge room for some cheer-up time, and Liv took Big Bear. Taylor quickly joined them, and pulled Reggie into her lap for a cuddle.

“Are you feeling a bit sad, sweetpea?”

Reggie nodded. “Uh-huh. I liked it better how things were before. Everything’s different.”

Taylor gently rubbed the little boy’s arms. “Change can be really tough. It’s like you’ve got to figure out how life works all over again!”

“Yeah, it’s not nice.”

“So, it’s okay to have a good cry. We will give you as many hugs and cuddles as you need.”

“Reggie,” Liv piped up, “do you wanna play a game? That could make you feel happy?”

Reggie sniffed and nodded again. Pleased-- she had this cheering-up business down-- Liv plonked herself in Estela’s lap and leaned forward to her cousin.

“Do you wanna play… ‘Klaawyi Chase’?”

Estela intervened quickly. “Maybe something with a little less running around. It’s nearly bedtime, Livi.”

“Okay. Ummmm…. ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’?”

“Livita.”

Well, you’re no fun. Liv gave a soft huff and pondered. By her best guess, ‘Hide and Seek’ would be a ‘no’ too… especially as last time she’d hid, no one managed to find her for a full hour.

“How about,” Taylor suggested, “we have a game of ‘Fortunately-Unfortunately’?”

“I wanna play that one!” Reggie said enthusiastically. “Can I start? Fortunately, we all had ice cream for dessert.”

Liv bounced in her mother’s lap. “Unfortunately, the ice cream was smelly-feet flavour!”

“Livi!” Taylor exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Why was everything smelly-feet with that kid? “Okay, then-- fortunately, Robin Dog likes smelly-feet, so he ate all the ice cream for us.”

“Oh!” Liv cried. ���I’ve got a really good one!” Hehe, Robin with smelly-feet farts….

“Unfortunately,” said Estela. “It was Mama Estela’s turn, and Miss Livita just had to wait.”

Liv turned and poked her tongue out at her mom, making Reggie giggle. He snuggled in against his Auntie Taylor’s chest, his mind far away from worries about his new role as big brother to a pair of very needy twins.

“Fortunately,” he said, smiling, “Furball was visiting, and he made us some new ice cream with no yucky flavours in it.”

“Unfortunately….”

_________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

It was the last weekend before school started, and a lazy warm day at the Montoya house. Estela was up a tree, hammering boards into what would soon be a playhouse for the kids. She’d already finished up a two-storey-high climbing wall on the other side of the yard, which, at Liv’s request, would eventually be connected to the new tree-house by a zipline. Then, there’d be a slide, and monkey bars, and a tyre swing, and a fire pole. Basically, Estela had made it her mission to put together the best backyard playground on the Costa Libertad. Taylor, meanwhile, had been busying herself with a vegetable garden, with the help of a fascinated Erin and her parents, who turned out to be quite clever when it came to soil chemistry.

Liv had been up and down her new climbing wall like a yo-yo, leaving her dog, Robin, running rings around the base and all but tripping Reggie up as he tentatively took his first steps towards ascending.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m trying! Your dog’s getting in the way.”

Eventually, Reggie managed to clamber his way up, with a little help from Liv who hauled him over the top.

“See; piece of cake.”

Reggie couldn’t quite agree, and now that he was up twenty feet, he was already dreading his descent back to solid ground. Keen to distract himself from the dizzying height, he passed Liv the rope that he’d carried slung across his shoulders.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she demanded. “You’re meant to drop one end back down….”

“I’m not going near the edge!”

“Fine. Immy! You down there still?”

On the ground, and trying to wrestle a squeaky toy giraffe from Robin’s mouth, Immy craned her neck up.

“Yeah-- but you’re lucky I am, Reggie was so slow.”

“Careful. I was careful. You should bloody well try it sometime.”

Immy rolled her eyes dramatically, but nonetheless took the rope end that Liv had lowered to her, and ran it over to Estela so the distance could be measured.

“There we go,” Liv said, after having marked the rope at the edge of the platform. “Done. Reggie, if you’re just going to look down, you might as well be on the ground. Come on-- check out the view!”

Begrudgingly, Reggie sat up properly and looked around.

“Woah.” Maybe he could see the appeal of being up so high, even if he was immensely grateful for the safety rails around the platform. “You really can see everything up here.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Liv beamed as she pointed her cousin towards the paddock behind the yard. “You wanted to see our horse? Right in there at the side of the sheltery-shed thing….”

“Oh, wow! Okay, fine, I believe you now. I guess she was just hiding earlier.”

“That’s Miel. She’s like, older than dirt; Mama Estela used to ride her when she was a teenager.”

“And she’s still alive?”

“Just about. I think she’s uh… nearly thirty? Pretty ancient. Mom found out she was all on her own after her friend died, and she bought her so she could retire here with us. She’s kind of a bitey asshole. Uh, the horse-- not Mom.” Liv quickly amended, glancing to the in-progress tree-house. “So, we’re keeping her, and if she wants to make friends with the new horses we’re getting, she can, otherwise at least she can, like, neigh rude horse words at them from over the fence.”

Reggie snorted. Weirdo.

“I’m super excited. I know Mama ‘Stel was kind of nervous about us moving over here because of how things were when she was a kid-- but it actually… feels nice. I love our new house. I love cranky Miel. I love that we’re gonna get chickens, and maybe a new friend for Robin. Even the school seems pretty good.”

Swallowing his fear, Reggie joined Liv at the railing, dangling his legs over the side of the platform.

“Yeah, I think I like it here, too. Mom and Dad seem really happy; Dad says he can make more of a good difference in the world here than in America. So, I guess that’s got to be good. Did I tell you we’re going to put a pool in?”

“You might have mentioned it. When you’ve been whining about the heat, for the hundredth time.”

“It’s so humid!”

Liv giggled. It was like being back in the tropics of La Huerta, and to her, that felt right. Granted, it might have been nicer if they could just pop on over into a neighbouring alpine region that was inexplicably right next to the hot, sticky jungle, but she really loved it.

“Well,” Reggie said, “it’s going to be great. And it should be done by the time Quinn and Michelle come to visit.”

“Do we even know whose house they’re staying at yet?”

“It should be my place.” Reggie puffed out his chest, as if to emphasise the rightness of his point. “You’re definitely getting Jake and Sean and Mikey. You can’t take all the visitors. And besides… we’ll have a pool.”

That was hard to argue with. “It’s up to the adults anyway,” Liv conceded. In the end, it didn’t matter; she was going to make the most of having her La Huerta family around even if it meant camping out in Reggie’s back yard. “But, I will be a much better San Trobida tour guide than you. I’m still showing you around.”

Reggie hmphed, and Liv laughed.

“Come on, Reggie,” she said, dropping gracefully down the side of the wall and taking up hand-holds. “I’m getting hungry.”

It was at that point that Reggie made the sobering discovery that going down, was rather more intimidating than going up a sheer vertical surface.

“Um, Liv…,” he said quietly. “I, uh, don’t think I can do that.”

“Oh!” Liv responded. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. Maybe you should’ve started smaller. But don’t worry, I’ll get you down….”

“Okay…,” he murmured, clearly not remotely convinced.

“Mom!” Liv hollered, all but making her poor cousin topple over the edge in surprise. “Reggie’s stuck!”

Reggie felt heat rise in his cheeks as his sisters, hanging out on the grass below the wall at the worst possible time, burst out laughing. Like they could even get up this high to begin with.

Up in the tree-house, Estela looked up and wiped off the paint from her hands. Rescuing kids from scrapes had pretty much become her specialty at this point; twelve years with Liv had seen to that. “I’m coming,” she called back.

“I’m not exactly stuck,” Reggie muttered defensively, as his Tia Estela easily scaled the climbing wall to join him and Liv, who’d already rejoined him to offer moral support. “If I really wanted to, I could climb down; I just feel I should practice climbing up a few more times before I try that.”

“You’ll get there,” Estela said kindly. As far as she was concerned, the fact that her nephew had a realistic view of his own capabilities was only a good thing. “I’ll have that zipline going in no time anyway, so you’ll have no hurry to work it out.”

With his aunt’s back offered to him, Reggie took the cue and wrapped his long arms around her neck, and his legs around her middle. Getting rescued by one of the team of protective grown-ups? Basically, the story of both his and Liv’s lives.

“Hang on, Regito,” Estela laughed.

____________________________

La Huerta, 2034

The frigid wind howled against the cabin door, and it took all of Liv and Reggie’s combined might to wrestle it closed. Both kids were panting heavily-- and shaking like leaves-- as they nervously stepped away.

“Thank god this little hut was here, really,” Liv heaved. “I dunno about you, but I’d rather be stranded in a snowstorm with walls around me.”

Reggie said nothing, and just shivered, wrapping his arms around his own torso. He’d wrapped up-- as if his parents would let him go wandering into the colder pockets of the island without a heap of layers-- but the snow had wet his gloves through, and a chill was now spreading through his body.

“Hey,” Liv said, “we should… we should get a fire going. You look like you’re halfway turned into a popsicle right now.”

As his cousin busied herself at the fireplace-- thank goodness there was some firewood left-- Reggie fiddled with his emergency phone. His heart sank. No signal. His mom and dad were going to be so worried when he and Liv never came home….

“Uh, Liv… I think the storm’s screwed up the reception here. It won’t let me phone Mom and Dad.”

Liv looked up, and for the first time, she looked truly fearful, her usual intrepid spirit extinguished in a flash. “They’re really gonna panic,” she said softly. She shuddered. If their parents came out looking for them, it meant walking out into a blizzard, and all the danger that came with it. If she could just tell her mothers that she was safe, that she and Reggie had shelter… they could wait out the storm. Anything could happen, anything….

“Are you okay, Livia?” Reggie asked, and he handed her a heavy blanket as he sat down cross-legged in front of her feebly burning fire. “You look kind of spaced-out.”

“Hng?”

“They’ll find us; it’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want them to come and find us,” Liv snapped. “I want them to stay where it’s safe. They could get hurt or, or worse because we were stupid enough not to turn around when the weather changed.” She placed a stick too roughly, and her firewood tower collapsed, extinguishing the flame. “For fuck’s sake!”

Reggie, wisely, stayed quiet, letting his cousin fix up the mess and get a new fire started without interference. He watched her with concern as her eyes welled. “Livia…?”

She huddled close to him, but for a long while, didn’t speak.

“Reggie,” she murmured at last, “something really horrible happened a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to talk about it with you, ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t even want to think about it…. It just made me feel too bad. But, uh.... I was… I was playing in the sea with Mama Estela. Just like we always do. We were just goofing off. Then, um, I got all tangled up in those freaking weeds. They grabbed me and held me under.”

“That must have been so scary….”

“Of course, Mom got me out of there. B-but there was a sea-snake in there. It bit her. It happened so fast… I hardly even saw what happened, but she suddenly just... could hardly even get out of the water. I somehow managed to haul her up out the water, but she was all limp and… and I gave her the anti-venom, and she just started having some kind of fit.. Like her body was jerking around, and her mouth was all frothy.” She gasped through a sob. “Then she… she stopped breathing, completely.” Liv shuddered as the memory filled her mind, vivid as if it were yesterday. She could feel Reggie’s wide, horrified eyes upon her. “I screamed. I screamed for help. Mama Taylor was up the beach, she couldn’t hear me. S-so I did CPR. My hands were shaking so-- so bad. And all I could think was ‘I’m gonna screw this up. I’m gonna screw this up and my mom’s gonna die’.” Her voice cracked and she sputtered through hot tears that she wiped away with her arm. Before she knew it, Reggie had his arms around her and was holding her tight. “I don’t know how long it was,” she said. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes. Then she started breathing and I just… I cried, and cried, and cried.”

Reggie gently rubbed Liv’s back, and it soothed her.

“I, uh, I guess I always thought Mama Estela was invincible. To me, she always was. There was nothing I couldn't do either, because she would always be there to protect me. It was so close, Reggie… it looked like she was gone.”

“I… didn’t know it was as bad as that. My dad told me she’d been bitten but…,” Reggie mumbled. “You must have been so scared. Have you… have you talked to your moms about it much?”

Liv sniffed, and wiped her face again. “Yeah. You know what my Mama Taylor is like; we’ve talked it through lots, I’ve told them how I’m feeling. But I haven’t… like… had a big cry since it happened.” Until now. Now, she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming. Reggie didn’t seem to mind; he just sat with her, and rubbed her back, and told her it was okay.

After what seemed like an age, her tears slowed.

“It is going to be okay, you know?” Reggie said gently. “Obviously, they’re going to come out looking for us, but they’re smart. They’ll be prepared; just like your Mama Estela was with the anti-venom.”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, her voice small. You could be as prepared as you wanted, but sometimes the world managed to stay one step ahead. The storm outside was wild and furious, battering on the roof and walls… and it was frightening. Liv could only snuggle under her cousin’s arm, and trust that whatever search and rescue party was out there would come through.

The two kids huddled together beneath their blanket, speaking little, but making their mutual support known without words. Just the squeeze of a hand through the most blood-curdling howls of the wind, and the simple offer of presence.

Somehow, the creak of the door shoved open cut through the dull roar.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“Dad!” Reggie leapt forward and flung his arms around his father, his face lighting up further when Grace followed in behind. “Mom!”

Grace put her shaking hands to her son’s face, gently sweeping hair from his eyes. “Darling, are you all right?” Then she pulled Liv into a fierce hug, and in a moment Aleister had his arms around all three of them. “We were so worried!”

Liv whimpered against Grace’s shoulder. “Are my moms out in the storm?” She knew the answer already.

“Yes, honey. They’re out searching for you. Don’t you stress, okay? We’ve got a flare to set off so they’ll know we found you here-- and Varyyn and Diego too.”

“Woah,” Liv murmured, “you got a whole search party out.”

There was a buzzing, and the flickering of blue light, then Iris materialised.

Reggie beamed. “Hey, Grandma! So, a ‘whole search party’ is pretty much correct.”

“I will say, being able to scan for nearby lifeforms is quite handy in situations like these.”

So, find my moms and Tio Diego. Liv hugged tighter to her Auntie Grace, with no words pleading for help.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said gently, stroking Liv’s face, while Aleister saw to setting off the flare. “It’s going to be just fine. We’re not far from Elyys’tel; we all fanned out from there, so no one is going to be too deep into the mountains.”

That… actually made sense. It was enough, just enough to keep Liv a step above panic-mode. She headed back to the fireplace, but as her backside hit the floor, a guttural roar rocked the cabin, and she leapt back to her feet.

“What the--?”

“You two stay back!” Aleister ordered, his voice shaking. Why, oh why, did the children want to go gallivanting out in the frozen wilderness when there was a perfectly serviceable tropical paradise right outside their front door? He was going to be old before his time at this rate….

Grace, though, was already hauling open the door, to reveal the hulking figure of the Mountain Guardian.

A growl rumbling in her throat, Arktos loomed in the doorway, looking down at Grace with a questioning gaze.

“Hello…?” she said cautiously. The gigantic bear-like creature was generally reasonably friendly…. “Did we… did we disturb you with the flare?”

Arktos grumbled, her furry ears flicking with curiosity.

“Our friends are out there in the storm,” Grace continued, certain that the yeti would understand; her past experiences had only supported the fact that this creature was incredibly intelligent-- and benevolent. “The flare was to bring them to this cabin.”

With a soft huff, Arktos shuffled backwards, and all of a sudden, it seemed as though she was surrounded by a force-field… a bubble that the wind and blinding snow couldn’t penetrate.

Understanding, Grace turned to Iris. “I think we’re going hiking again-- with a little extra help this time. Al, you’ll stay and watch the kids?”

“I--I--” Aleister stuttered. “Well, of course. Stay close to the… the bear thing.” Scrambling a little, he pulled off his outer layer and offered it to her. “I won’t have you catching hypothermia.”

And Grace stepped into the snow, Iris hovering behind her, and found shelter in the yeti’s protective shield. She looked up at the beast, now rearing up onto colossal hind legs to scout for signs of nearby human activity. “Thank you, Arktos. I guess… I guess, you choose the direction, and we’ll start the search.”

The unusual trio headed out into the storm, and within moments, they were invisible for the wind thick with snow. Aleister, a look of dumbfoundment upon his face, closed the door, and again, the cabin was quiet.

“Damn. Auntie Grace is a fricking badass,” Liv breathed, face alight in awe.

Aleister, recovering from his wife’s shock exit quickly-- he’d seen her steely courage in action enough times to just about take it in his stride, nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the last flakes of snow from his coat, and looked around the room. “Well, I don’t suppose the wait will pass any faster with us standing around here. Reggie, did we leave any board-games here last time?”

“Uh, looks like we’ve got ‘Scrabble’?”

Well, Liv thought, I don’t have a hope in hell against these people. Should’ve left ‘Twister’ here….

Reggie sat himself down in front of the crackling fire and started unpacking the box. “Hey, Livia-- team up with me?”

He was clearly still a little worried about her. If there was an opportunity to thrash her at something, Mr Pedantic-Always-Right would take it without fail. Or so Liv had believed.

She plonked down cross-legged beside him. “Yeah? Yeah, all right.”

The two kids exchanged a high five, and Liv couldn’t help but grin. You are going down, Uncle Al.

___________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

As the car pulled up the neatly paved pathway to Aleister and Grace’s house, Liv excitedly rolled down the window.

“Reginaaaaald!!!” she hollered.

“How,” Aleister wondered aloud, “can such a small person-- and the offspring of Estela and Diego of all people-- sound so eerily like a bloody foghorn?”

A beaming Reggie followed his father out the front door. He exchanged hugs with both his parents-- and his two little sisters-- and then rushed to join his cousin on the back seat.

“Are you ready to go, mijo?” Estela checked in, suppressing a laugh as Taylor all but did a contortion act to give her nephew a hug from the front seat.

He had Liv, didn’t he? So, basically, he was ready for anything.

The short drive to the school saw the return of those pesky jitters, and Reggie knew from the way his cousin jiggled her leg the whole way there that he was definitely not alone in that. The school ground, filled only with kids their own age when they’d been there for orientation, was swarming with adolescents of all sizes-- and just about all of them were bigger than Reggie and Liv.

With an awkward hug and a kiss to her mothers in the front of the car, Liv bit the bullet and, bulging backpack in hand, stepped out into a brave new world. There was only one thing for it; Reggie would just have to take the plunge. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed after his cousin.

“Welp,” said Liv, “here goes nothing!”

Reggie gave a nervous laugh and playfully bashed Liv with his backpack, putting a reassuringly silly grin on her face.

We’ve got this.

_______________________

NOTES

Little Xiraana is @mauvecatfic's baby. Check out her stories; you won't regret it!

If you read 'A Ride to Remember', you might remember Miel. She's the very same horse.

Aaaaand, the incident Liv is recounting during the snowstorm is the one you can read from Estela's perspective in 'Teething Problems: Part Two'.

[artificialqueens]

Been Here All Along (Tayce/A’Whora) - Juno

Summary: A game of spin the bottle turns into a night of realisation for Tayce and A’Whora.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little story! It was inspired by a prompt list from tumblr and is a one-shot featuring lots of the DRUK2 girls.

“Who’s gonna spin first?”

Joe spluttered with feigned indignation at Veronica’s question and seized the bottle from her hand. “Me, of course. Who else? It is my house.”

“And mine,” Veronica pointed out, “and Tayce’s, and Pip’s! We all live here too, you know!”

Joe ignored Veronica as she normally did, and put the bottle in the centre of the gaggle of people on the living room floor, giving it a violent spin with a flick of her wrist. The twelve of them all watched it go around and finally land on Ginny, who raised their bright yellow eyebrows and pursed their lips into an O.

“Truth … or dare?” Joe asked in her usual dramatic fashion, picking up the bottle and waving it under Ginny’s nose like a microphone.

“Give over!”

“Truth … or dare?”

“Erm, truth. Oh, shut up!” Ginny protested at the collective groan, holding up the plastic cup of alcohol. “Truth first! I need at least another three of these before you catch me taking off my clothes and running down the road, I can tell you that for nothing.”

Tayce felt Aurora’s hand creep into the crook of her elbow, her skin tingling at the contact as it always did whenever Aurora’s hands were on her. Aurora leaned a little closer to breathe words into her ear.

“How often does Ginny do that when you all play this game?”

Tayce had to think about it. “So far only twice. Once in second year, and once this year. But don’t worry, they only got as far as the Spar on the corner.”

“Only twice?” Aurora looked scandalised.

“Okay,” Joe’s theatrical voice and emphatic sweeping gestures with her arms focused all the attention of the eleven people around her as she spoke. “Do you fancy anyone in this group, and how long have you fancied Pip for?”

Everyone shrieked; Tayce grabbed Aurora’s hand and squeezed in glee as Pip mimed throwing the tiny handbag she always carried at Joe. Ginny just grinned and without another word, stood up and left for the kitchen, blowing them all a kiss as they went.

“They don’t really love me,” Pip shrugged, “they just keep me hanging on.”

“I heard that,” Ginny called from the kitchen. “You want some punch?”

“Get a move on, it’s your turn to spin, Ginny!” Lawrence shouted back. “Pryzm closes the doors at eleven, and I want to be fucking buzzing off my tits before we get there.”

Ginny came back into the living area, carrying the plastic tub filled with the bright pink concoction that Asttina had made, the result of plenty of cheap vodka and Sourz and pink lemonade that Asttina insisted was class in a glass, even if the rest of them had their doubts.

“Pip, spin for me, will you love?” Ginny asked, dipping their plastic cup into the tub and filling it with drink.

The game went on for a while, a few more turns taken and a lot more alcohol flowing. Aurora was getting more tactile the more she had to drink - as usual - until her chin rested on Tayce’s shoulder, leaning into Tayce’s right side, her hand still looped in the crook of her elbow and her perfume invading her every synapse.

And Tayce would never admit that just that contact was making her stomach quiver with butterflies.

It was an age before finally Tia’s spin of the bottle landed on Tayce, who had secretly been looking forward to it as they all did, even if none of them would admit it. She felt Aurora’s hand squeeze her again, her hot breath against her neck.

“Tayce -“ Tia began, but Joe held up her hand.

“Tayce,” Joe took over the conversation, continuing her theatrics, “truth, or DARE?”

From the way that Joe was saying dare, and the way the rest of the circle were looking round at her expectantly, Aurora’s fingers digging into her forearm, she knew she had to take one for the team.

She sighed in mock resignation. “Alright, give me a dare, Joe.”

There had been six whole rounds of truths and so the group’s collective cheer could probably have been heard in Tayce’s native Wales - apart from Lawrence whose sudden coughing fit sounded a great deal like sexual tension - but Joe peered at everyone in the group, finally turning back to Tayce.

“I dare you to kiss … Cherry.”

There was a beat of silence around the room before Cherry’s high-pitched cackle filled it.

“What! Why me?” Cherry cried, her eyes darting between Tayce and Aurora in confusion.

And she wasn’t the only confused person in the circle; Tia’s brow furrowed, looking from Tayce and Aurora and then to Joe. As if they all wondered if Joe was more plastered than she was letting on, not to have noticed the elephant in the room.

“Just get it over with,” Veronica muttered, “taxis will be here in a minute.”

“Come on, speed it up!” Lawrence waved her hands at them both. “Pryzm, remember?”

Tayce pulled herself free of Aurora’s welcome warmth and crawled across the circle to Cherry, as the shriek of the girls around them reached fever pitch. When their lips met, Tayce could feel Cherry laughing nervously as she put her hands to Tayce’s face, her touch a little awkward.

There was nothing behind it, but the group around them were shrieking as if they’d just scored a try at the Six Nations. They pulled away to the excitement dying down and Lawrence’s slow clap.

“Great. BAFTA award nomination for romantic moment of the decade. Can we get in the taxis now?”

——

By the time they’d managed to get into the club, it was gone ten, the place was heaving with bodies moving to the music, and none of them could get to the bar with the queue at least three-people deep. Lawrence was complaining that they hadn’t spent more time at home getting drunk before they got there.

“You were the one who insisted on calling the bloody taxis!” Veronica put her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t, that was Ellie!” Lawrence folded her arms. “God, don’t blame me for everything!”

Tayce sniggered behind her vodka and red bull, watching Veronica’s face growing even redder, out of booze or annoyance it was hard to tell. They were all used to Lawrence’s humour by now, and Tayce couldn’t blame Lawrence for taking the piss this much; especially with Veronica, who was just a little too easy to rile up.

“Anyway, it was Aurora’s fault, really. We’d have been here sooner if she’d gotten into the first taxi and not made us all play musical fucking chairs because she suddenly didn’t want to go with Tayce!” Lawrence wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t know what’s going on there!”

Tayce turned to see where Aurora was, just in time to see her shake her head in exasperation and turn away from them, making her way to the stairs leading to the smoking area.

“Lawrence!”

Lawrence looked confused. “What did I do?”

“I’ll go - see if she’s alright -“ Tayce said, pushing her way through the crowds and heading down the stairs and out to the smoking area. As expected Aurora was there, leaning her back against the wall, her vape pen in hand, blowing clouds of smoke into the rain.

She sighed as Tayce drew near to her. “I don’t think your uni friends like me very much.”

“You always say that, you’ve said that all three years we’ve been at uni, and you know they do like you. They think you’re lush.”

Aurora concentrated on twirling her vape pen around her fingers. “Lawrence doesn’t.”

“She does, you know that complaining about everything is her way of being friendly. The more she complains, the more it means she’s having a good time. Trust me.”

Tayce rubbed Aurora’s shoulder when she didn’t look any happier, while Aurora looked at the ground. “I didn’t get to do any truths, either, or - or dares.”

Tayce spluttered with laughter. “Okay, tell you what, let’s have a round now, just the two of us. So - truth … or dare?” She asked, mimicking Joe’s affected tone and deep, throaty voice.

“Tayce -“ Aurora waved her hand in her direction, but the corners of her mouth were curling, and she screwed her eyes shut as she lost the fight to keep the laughter out of her face.

“Truth or DARE?”

Aurora shook her head, still laughing. “I fucking hate you! Give me a dare, then.”

“You sure you want a dare? Positive?”

When Aurora looked back at Tayce, she was no longer attempting to hide the coy smile, chewing her bottom lip while a gentle flush spread up from her neck to her face.

Tayce couldn’t keep the purr out of her voice. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Aurora’s eyes widened a fraction, darting to the people around them. “Tayce!” She murmured, raising her hand to slap Tayce playfully on the arm.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Aurora teased, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Why not?” Tayce smirked, raising her eyebrow. “Scared you’ll fall in love with me?”

But Aurora just ran the fingers of her free hand along Tayce’s arm, up to her shoulder.

“Tayce! I’ve been in love with you since we were kids!”

The words in Aurora’s voice were something Tayce had only heard in her wildest dreams, and now being spoken into existence, they ignited something intense between them. Suddenly their lips had met; Tayce’s head spinning at the thought of finally getting to kiss the friend she’d yearned for for years. Aurora felt like home, the intimacy like the most natural progression in the universe.

At the sound of a cough behind them, one that sounded an awful lot like “sexual tension”, Tayce broke the kiss off and turned to see Ellie pushing Lawrence back into the club and mouthing sorry at them with a grimace.

Turning back to Aurora, Tayce was surprised at her confused expression. “I didn’t realise … but are you and Cherry …”

“No, wait,” Tayce shook her head. “That was just a dare!”

“I thought that Joe wanted you to kiss Cherry because she was trying to make you two -“

“No!” Tayce gesticulated wildly, almost knocking Aurora’s vape pen clean from her hand. “It was just because Cherry is a bit shy, and Joe likes to try to involve her! Don’t worry, Cherry doesn’t fancy me!”

“You’re sure -“

“Yes!” Tayce laughed. “Jesus, you think too much.”

Aurora took a deep inhale, blowing smoke out the corner of her mouth, the air around them filling with the scent of strawberry as she did. “Can you tell what I’m thinking now?”

“Well I’m not a psychic,” Tayce murmured, pulling Aurora close again, “but if you’re thinking the same as me, then it’s that we need to deflate that air bed in my room. You won’t need it if you’re coming in with me.”

“Great minds think alike!” Aurora replied with a coy grin.

[theasstour]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 21k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: my baby @shepherald... grazie mille my dear one! i’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for bb, and i’ll never be able to put into words how much you mean to me! i love you so much! thank you!

A/N2: so, this is it! last chapter of bb! it honestly doesn’t seem real, and i’m so sad i have to let painter!harry go cos i’ve grown quite fond of him the year i’ve spent thinking about him and this fic! what bb represents is what makes this fic so special to me. i - a plus size woman - never felt like i belonged anywhere. i assumed i was unloveable from never seeing a bigger person like myself in a book or a film where that person was deemed attractive. they were always the clown, or ‘the fat character’, or their entire storyline was based around them needing to lose weight. i’ve gotten pretty fucking tired of never seeing myself represented properly in fiction or irl or ANYWHERE for that matter, so i decided to take matters into my own hands, and i cannot begin to tell you how LIBERATING and AMAZING it felt! to each person who reached out to me saying bb made them confident, made them feel like they weren’t alone, opened their eyes to what life as a bigger person is: i love you all. this is the exact reason why i wrote bb. fat doesn’t equal ugly, it doesn’t equal unloveable, it doesn’t equal any negatively charged words. fat equals beautiful, it equals human. and anyone who ever tries to tell you otherwise can choke lmao. enjoy this last instalment of bb, i love you all so much x

Sunday, 1 March 2020

Y/N had always thought that the biggest changes were those you didn’t pay immediate notice to. Like the changing of the seasons, aging on your birthday, when the clock struck 12 and a new day began. Changes that were caused by time; that could not be prevented. Loads of changes couldn’t be prevented, but it was impossible to escape time. Manmade to make life simpler to live, and yet it’s what kills us in the end. However, Y/N had come to learn that some changes – the biggest and worst of them all – pained you so much, they didn’t fully leave your body. Like a volcanic eruption, they’d come every now and again, but would leave you scorched and burning for days. She chose not to think about those changes.

But it was hard when she was out shopping with her younger sister and said younger sister would not stop bloody chattering. The first day of spring had brought nothing but clouds and the occasional fall of some rain. Y/N wasn’t impressed. Wasn’t a new season supposed to bring something else? So far it just felt like any other winter day in south England.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Looking up at Portia, it was painfully obvious Y/N hadn’t been paying attention to anything her sister had been saying.

Portia raised her eyebrows. “Are you taking the mick right now?”

“What?!”

“You’re not even listening to what I’ve been saying.” Portia scanned her Oyster card and walked on into Haggerston station, leaving Y/N sighing behind her. Y/N scanned her own card and followed, knowing that her sister would not stop being annoying unless she asked what she’d been talking about. The second she began talking again, she’d forget Y/N wasn’t listening to begin with.

The two were on their way to Victoria Station, Portia was going back home after having stayed with Y/N in her shared flat in Hackney for two weeks, having had some modelling jobs to attend to. And now that she was done, she would be going home to their mother and staying there for a week until she had to come back down to London for some more jobs. Y/N was getting rather sick of her little sister staying with her when she could easily find her own flat, but she figured she’d bring that conversation up another time. A time when she hadn’t pissed her sister off already that day.

“Tia,” Y/N said as they reached the Southbound platform, the windy remnants of the storm that had just been making it freezing to be taking the Overground and wait outside for the next tube to arrive. “What were you saying?”

“Do you even care?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“This bloke I’ve been going on dates with while I’ve been here, right,” Portia started crossing her arms over her chest as the tube started approaching, knowing that a gust of wind would accompany it. “He’s got this friend that’s been eyeing me up the two times I’ve met him. He’s fit and everything, but I’m seeing Azeem, you know.”

“Tell Azeem his mate makes you feel uncomfortable and he’ll do something about it till next time you meet.”

“But he doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable, that’s the thing.” Portia sighed as the two girls walked up to the yellow line, waiting for the train to stop so they could get on. “I just think it’s annoying.”

“That men find you attractive?”

“That the fit one’s are always the ones I can’t have.”

“Oh, my days, Portia.” Y/N mumbled, getting on the Overground and sitting down in one of the orange and brown seats. Portia sat down next to her, putting her bag on the ground beside her feet.

“What, Y/N?”

“You just sound like a bellend.”

“How?”

Y/N gave her a look.

“How?!”

“’The fit one’s are always the ones I can’t have’? At least you’re dating someone, and they’re interested in you.”

“And Azeem is delicious, but his mate’s got…”

“Got what?”

Portia sighed. “Got nice arms.”

Y/N leaned her head against the wall behind her, it swayed with the moving coach.

“I know it’s not all about looks.”

“It really is not.”

“But I still can’t help myself.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“Don’t be rude.” Portia nudged her sister’s shoulder. “If you’d just go out and date people as well, you’d have the same problems.”

Y/N huffed, looking at Portia. “Doubt it.”

Portia rested one leg on top of the other, examining her nails. “You’re so boring sometimes.”

“Cheers.”

“No,” Portia glanced at Y/N again. “But isn’t it boring to just be sat inside all day?”

“Oh, it’s incredibly boring to get an education.”

Portia rolled her eyes.

“Go out of my mind going to lectures, writing my dissertation, doing other assessments, and applying to thousands of jobs a day.”

Portia crossed her arms, looking ahead.

“So boring.”

“I know you pride yourself on the fact you’re gonna be a vet.”

“Shouldn’t I?”

Portia sighed, refusing to answer. The two kept quiet after that. Y/N knew in order to make Portia shut up, she just had to bring up her education. Portia was fully aware that Y/N was the smartest one out of the two of them – quite frankly, the smartest one in their entire family – and if Y/N rubbed it in, Portia would keep quiet. Reminding her sister how she’d gotten into the University of her dreams and was doing great, was a low blow, Y/N knew that. But at the same time, Portia just pissed her off so much sometimes that she simply could not help herself.

The two got up as they reached their stop at Canada Water, and walked off towards the Jubilee line once the tube doors opened. Portia’s bag kept bumping into Y/N as they walked, and though she would normally tell her to piss off, to keep her bag closer, she didn’t know. Giving Portia a reason to start shouting at her in the middle of a tube station was not ideal. She was mad enough as it was.

They got on the escalator, Y/N was just about to tell Portia what direction to walk in once they reached the bottom since her little sister always forgot, but Portia gasped before Y/N got the chance. Looking up at her sister, Portia’s eyes were wide, a small smile lingering on her lips. She pointed to the digital posters that lined the wall along the escalator, making Y/N look to her right to see what had gotten her sister all excited.

It was the colour that stood out first. She remembered the exact shade of it. The painting stood out second, then the colour of the person’s hair, the shape of their body, the shoes. The landscape, the warm colours. It was her. It was the same day she’d found Viola. The same day Harry had supposedly… No, she couldn’t even finish that thought. She’d tried not to think of him for months now. As they passed another one of the posters, she looked at it again. In white and bold letters, the text on the poster said ‘H. Styles’ exclusive and limited new exhibition. 11:00-18:00. 23rd February – 1st March. Dover Street, Mayfair. £10 admission.’

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Portia said, tapping her finger against the screen multiple times as they passed yet another one of the posters. “What the fuck?”

The exact same statement was going on repeat in Y/N’s head as well. Seeing the painting, seeing herself on that poster, it brought back so incredibly many memories from a time she had tried to forget.

Ever since they had parted ways, Y/N and Harry had only talked on a handful of occasions. They would text one another – very early on, Harry even called her twice (only after making sure the time zones weren’t fucked and she wasn’t asleep) -, and they did so for a long while, but then Harry’s answers got shorter and shorter, and Y/N felt like he might be falling out of love. She didn’t want to ask him in case she was reading too much into things, afraid of what the answer might be. She was still in love with him, would probably be so till the day she died, but she didn’t want to force him to talk to her if he wasn’t feeling it anymore.

As time went on, their text conversations got less frequent, and by Christmas, they weren’t talking at all. Y/N had tried to forget about him, thinking that he might have just viewed what they had as an intense summer romance and that was it. After all, he was a passionate and artistic man, maybe he fell in love with the thought, image, and what she represented to his summer more than her person. It all hurt to think about, which was why she rarely allowed herself to think about him at all. She hadn’t seen him in almost seven months, she was terrified of what that distance had done to them. To his heart. Because hers still longed for his in every way a person could yearn for another. It proved hard living apart from a person whose name you had etched onto the organ that kept you alive.

They reached the bottom of the escalator and the two girls stepped off, Y/N blinking a few extra times because she simply could not hold tears back when she was thinking about Harry. Portia walked beside Y/N, mouth agape.

“Y/N,” she said. “We have to go.”

Y/N sniffled, pretending it was because she’d caught a cold. “Why?”

Portia glanced at her as if she was insane.

“What?”

“Don’t even start, Y/N. We’re going. I need to see those paintings and so do you.” Portia walked onto the Jubilee tube, Y/N following straight after. They held onto a pole, and when Y/N averted her eyes to the advertisement on the walls of the coach, she saw Harry’s poster again. They were everywhere, how hadn’t she noticed them before?

“Dover Street.” Portia said. “Right by Piccadilly, innit?”

“Yeah.”

“Brill, we just jump off at Green Park and walk for like five minutes and we’ll be there.”

Y/N sighed, suddenly feeling like she needed to throw up.

Portia grinned, looking at Y/N. “I’m excited now.”

“Portia, this is a bad idea.”

“It’s a splendid idea.” Portia corrected. “I need to see all the paintings. I’m sure they’re amazing.”

Y/N had never told Portia she hadn’t seen the paintings herself, that Harry hadn’t let her. But then again, there were a lot of things she hadn’t told Portia about last summer and H. Styles. Her heart was beating way faster than normal, she was suddenly sweating. The notion that Harry might be there was overwhelming, that he had probably been in London for a while now but not contacted her made her entire body ache in a way it had never done before. Though Harry being at his own gallery didn’t make sense on any other days than the opening one, Y/N was still sick thinking about meeting him. He wouldn’t be there, but she still was wary of going.

“What’s gotten into you, you look faint.” Portia pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

“I think it’s a really bad idea to go to that exhibition.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Portia groaned. “These are paintings of you. You’re literally the star of the whole thing.”

Y/N shrugged.

“Besides, I don’t think we have to pay a tenner since you literally spent all summer with him so he could paint you. Free admission equals ‘why the fuck not’.”

Would Harry even want her there? They hadn’t talked after all; he hadn’t told her he was in London. Maybe he didn’t want her to come see the paintings. Maybe he just wanted her to stay away.

She hated how much she was overthinking this. The last thing she wanted to do was step on Harry’s toes, especially now that they hadn’t spoken in a while. Especially because she loved him and was afraid he didn’t anymore. However, realising the reason she was overthinking in the first place, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was because Harry meant so much to her. Never could she face him now without knowing if he felt the same way about her.

Portia dragged Y/N off at Green Park, walking towards the exit with an excited gleam in her eyes. Y/N’s stomach hurt so much she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to lay down in a foetal position and die. This was all so sudden, so overwhelming. They exited the underground, and as they reached the outside again, the sun was shining and the wind didn’t seem as horrible. It didn’t ease Y/N’s nerves one bit, though.

It took them a total of three minutes to reach Dover Street, and the exhibition was one of the first things that caught Y/N’s eyes. The entire front was made of glass, covered in a baby blue sheet that read ‘H. Styles’ new exclusive exhibition.’ Portia gripped Y/N’s arm, squealing before she looked both ways and crossed the street. Y/N knew Dover Street was known for having numerous contemporary art galleries, but looking down the street, none stood out as much as Harry’s. It was impossible to view any of the paintings through the windows, undoubtedly leaving people wanting to pay the 10 quid to do just that. Y/N was torn between actually wanting to walk inside or sprint back to Hackney.

“Why’re you hesitating? Come on!” Portia took Y/N’s hand and opened the door with the other, forcing Y/N in first.

The reception was dark, absolutely everything covered in black from the floor to the ceiling. There was nothing on the walls, nothing that stood out. But in the middle of the room stood another black wall, covering the proper entrance to the actual exhibition. In front of it stood a reception desk in the same colour, and behind it sat an old man, but he was accompanied by a figure Y/N recognised right away. Portia walked straight up to the desk, a huge smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the old man said, smiling right back at her.

“Hi, my sister and I would love to just enter the exhibition, please.”

“20 pounds, then.” Jamie said, standing bent over a pile of papers that they were signing and reading over.

“No, you don’t understand,” Portia started, turning around and beckoning Y/N over. “My sister is a good friend of H. Styles.”

Jamie looked up, their eyes immediately landing on Y/N. And just like that, she was brought right back to last summer and everything Jamie had told Harry on one of her last nights there. So many memories washed over her that it made her a little dizzy. The car rides where she and Jamie would sit in the backseat and discuss animals, life, or anything else that would’ve caught their attention. The other times when they’d wait for Harry to get ready downstairs. She didn’t know how to act. Did she give them a hug? Did she smile? Did she say something? This was exactly why she didn’t want to go.

“Y/N,” Jamie said, standing up straight.

“So you recognise her!” Portia was elated. “Can we just walk on in then?”

Jamie and Y/N didn��t break eye contact, both at a loss for words. It was clear that something went down between them, that there was something unspoken in the air of the reception hall. Y/N looked away, not wanting to have Portia ask her about Jamie once they entered the gallery. She didn’t want to tell her; didn’t want to recount anything from her time in Italy.

“Yeah,” Jamie hastily reached for two brochures, locking eyes with Y/N again as he handed them to her. Portia raised her eyebrows, catching on that something was going on. She looked at Y/N. “Don’t take any photographs, if any of our guards see you do so, you will be asked to leave and pay a fine. Other than that, I hope you enjoy.” Y/N knew they were talking to both her and Portia, but by the look in their eyes, she felt as though they were talking to her alone.

“Thank you very much.” Portia smiled, taking one of the brochures and walking away from them.

Y/N looked at the brochure, just as baby blue as the sheet that had covered the front of the gallery, the same writing on it as well. Her eyes met Jamie’s again, and there was something about the way they glanced at her that was so sad. Somewhere in the wrinkle between their eyebrows Y/N saw an apology of sorts. Regret so deep and intense that she could feel it herself. They didn’t say anything, but Y/N felt the agony; saw something in their eyes that she hadn’t experienced herself, but that they needed her to see. She gave them a small smile before following Portia and walking around the wall behind the reception desk, keeping her eyes on the brochure in her hands.

If meeting Jamie had her shaken up this bad, she didn’t even want to begin to think what an encounter with Harry would bring. The leaflet was shaking in her hand, begging for her to open it. What would it even hold? Copies of the paintings? No, if they weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, why would he have them attached in leaflets for anyone to see?

“Oh, my word.” Portia said, making Y/N look up.

The entrance to the gallery had her halting. Just like everything else, she recognised it right away. All over the wall was a painting she’d seen on her first week last summer; seen on one of her last days when she’d shown it to Harry.

“When I first moved into the flat, I found a painting in this wardrobe.” She pulled it down, taking a glance at the autumn painting depicting a gravel path leading nowhere into darkness. Turning around, she walked back over to the bed, handing the painting to Harry. “That’s only one of like, two of your paintings I’ve really seen, other was one of the sea back in your house. Mind if I ask what inspired this one?”

A projector planted it on the dark surface, welcoming the guests to the gallery. A gravel path leading off far into the dark distance, tall oak trees surrounding it, filled with the rich colours of autumn. Though it was filled with yellow and green, two colours that would normally have positive connotations, Y/N couldn’t help but get quite the opposite vibes staring at it, just like all the other times she’d seen it. There was something about it she couldn’t put her finger on. Like there laid a secret at the end of the path; an explanation in the black of the unknown.

“It’s the drive to my house back in Manchester. The drive up to my childhood home, or… this is facing the other way.” He explained, dragging his finger gently along the gravel path. “It’s what you see when you’re leaving.” He shifted the attention of his finger to the trees of different colours. “Autumn, the dull colours…” he trailed off, as if reliving a memory he’d almost suppressed; something he’d pushed so far into the back of his head it had almost vaporised and disappeared into nothingness. “This was when I left home, when I first moved to London.” He pointed at the darkness at the end of the gravel path. “That’s the end of the road, I couldn’t make it out clearly. My future, I mean. It’s all supposed to represent uncertainty.”

Portia looked over her shoulder at Y/N, squealing. The darkness at the end of the painting was a hallway, a dark corridor that seemed to be leading off into nowhere. Her sister stood there waiting for her, reaching her hand out so they could walk through the darkness together. But Y/N needed to take a moment and just look at the wall, because it was one of the very first of his paintings she’d ever seen, and now she was about to see all of the other paintings he had refused to let her see. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, took Portia’s hand, and the two walked into the dark hallway. Y/N felt her grip on Portia’s hand tighten for each step they took

“Why didn’t they just put some bloody lights in here?-“

But just as Portia said that, the exhibition was revealed to them. It was black. Dim white lights lit up the room on the walls and ceiling, illuminating the floating balls that were lined up down the room. Looking at the walls first, Y/N realised the light appeared as stars. Dotted along the walls and ceiling, lighting up the room and revealing the huge round objects that appeared to be floating, but was held from the ceiling and the floor by metal poles. The first one was completely dark, and as the two sisters walked on closer, Portia gasped a little.

“Y/N,”

“What?”

“How many planets are there in our Solar System?”

Y/N frowned, but as her eyes met Portia’s she understood immediately. Taking a step to the side, she looked down the room, seeing that there were quite a few others visiting the gallery as well. Harry was an immense painter, after all. Everyone knew who he was. However, Y/N couldn’t focus on the other people in the room with her, she started counting the different sized round objects that were nicely lined.

“Eight.” Y/N answered.

“And how many-“

“-Eight.”

Portia squeezed Y/N’s hand, eyes wide with some kind of realisation. The sisters looked at one another for a minute before Portia opened her mouth to speak again.

“Why the fuck has he done that, Y/N?”

Y/N shook her head. “Dunno.-“

“-You do.” Portia said. “That’s why that person back there looked at you all intense as well, wasn’t it? What happened last summer? You never spoke of it.”

Y/N sighed, closing her eyes. “Portia, it’s… it’s incredibly complicated and… and it’s a long story.”

Portia groaned, clinging to Y/N’s arm. “I don’t care, Y/N. I want to know. For fuck’s sake, look around you,”

Y/N opened her eyes, doing as her sister told her to.

“It’s so painfully obvious, Y/N.”

 Y/N refused to believe it was. She didn’t want to believe that what Portia was insinuating was true, because it would mean the last few months had been for nothing. It would mean the countless hours she’d cried, the times she stopped herself from thinking about him, from yearning for him, from going back to a time spent with him and cursing herself for doing so; it was not worth it. Trying to forget him had meant nothing.

Portia tapped Y/N’s arm, catching her attention. She gestured at the painting they stood in front of, giving Y/N a little smile. Y/N looked at it, and she was immediately taken back to the exact moment of it.

There was a hole in the planet in the shape of the canvas, white light washing over it to reveal it completely to the gallery visitors. Portia opened the catalogue as Y/N studied the painting Harry had never let her view. His first painting of her.

“Miss Sweeney,” Harry said, pointing at the hill. “You-“

“-You can just call me Y/N.”

“You need to stand far away.”

Shocking. But there was no use making that comment. She took her cardigan off, putting it along with her purse in the backseat of the car.

“You will find a tree further down if you just walk straight ahead, it’s got a blue ribbon on it. Stop there with your back facing me. And don’t move until I tell you so.”

As she started walking down the hill, she could feel Harry watching her, studying her every move and every surface of her body. She supposed he wanted to make sure she found the ribbon, as well as to see what he was working with.

An abundance of colours surrounded her; green, grey, yellow, brown. She could barely make out the baby blue dress amongst the nature swallowing her, there was no way of knowing the colour of her hair, the proper colour of her skin, or any of her characteristics. The only thing that stood out was the colour of her dress, but even that wasn’t as prominent as she remembered the colour to be.

“Won’t that smear the paint everywhere?”

Harry looked at her, those two familiar lines appearing between his brows. “How?”

“Shouldn’t it be left to dry or something?”

“It’s dry.”

She frowned back at him. “Already?”

“I finished a while ago, left it to dry for around an hour.”

The memory made her smile some, regardless of how infuriated she remembered being. It was the fact that they had started out like that; polar opposites with absolutely nothing in common. Two people who couldn’t see eye to eye on anything. That fact was easy to note in the first painting, seeing the insignificant role she played in the actual painting. The Tuscan landscape could’ve done fine without her presence in it, she wasn’t even placed in the middle of the painting where nature parted to reveal Fosdinovo, but somewhere to the right of it, in the middle of the trees.

Portia tugged at Y/N’s sleeve, motioning for her to follow her to the next painting behind the first one. It was the same as the first one; a rectangle shaped hole in the dark planet, lights surrounding it to show it off. She smiled again.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Do you see that rock over there?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Sit there facing me.”

She knew there was no use saying anything back, so she simply walked over to the rock and sat down like he wanted her to. It wasn’t comfortable to sit on, and she didn’t think she’d be able to sit there for two hours straight. Then again if she decided she needed a break, the painter would undoubtedly show his annoyance in some way. He instructed her to straighten her legs, crossing them at the ankle, leaning back on her hands. He said he wanted her to “be looking directly into the sun.”

“That could literally ruin my eyes.”

“Art goes beyond comfort.”

“I want to be able to see said art.”

Y/N felt like she was transported right back to the moment of the painting, like she could feel, see, smell everything. Though she had known that would probably be the effect once she saw the collection, she hadn’t been aware it would be this intense. The notion Harry had painted these of her; that he had painted them before, during, and after everything happened between them, it struck her. He’d been working on these for so long; she had been a forced part of his life for so long. Maybe that was why they’d stopped talking. He’d gotten tired of her. Gotten enough of her.

The colour of her dress was the same as the previous painting; it stood out, but not in a contrasting way like you thought the colour of baby blue would when surrounded by woods. The white sunlight lit up most of her surroundings, making them blend well with the dress, but then again, she could recall quite clearly how bright the sun had been that day. Though she had hated the heat of the Italian weather in the beginning, towards the end she’d gotten kind of used to it. It was almost cold coming back home to a normal British summer.

Y/N groaned, positioning her head like he wanted her to. “Went to this baker Wednesday.” It just slipped out. She had genuinely not meant to say it, but now that she’d already mentioned it, she might as well go all the way.

Harry didn’t respond.

“Said you were known around town as the grumpy Brit.”

She didn’t see him stop painting, but she could tell he halted a little. “Who said that?”

Trying not to smile as she had somehow managed to capture his attention. “Does it matter?” Y/N didn’t know why people wanted to know what someone else thought of them. It was out of their control. Then again, she supposed, she’d brought it up so it was partly her fault he asked in the first place.

Harry huffed.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What was the –“ Y/N imitated his exasperated huff.

“Whoever said that,” Harry said, bending down a bit and disappearing completely behind the canvas. “They’re a fucking knobhead.”

Y/N nodded her head, pursing her lips before she clicked her tongue loudly. Harry glanced up. “Great argument.”

It was weird how there had been a time prior to how she was feeling now. That at the time of this painting, she hadn’t been in love with Harry. The hands that had created this artwork hadn’t yet touched her; hadn’t yet loved her. She wanted to reach through the glass that separated the canvas from them; wanted to feel the paint and the memories that came with it.

But Portia was impatient, having already started walking around the planet to the next one. She looked down into the brochure, a furrow to her brows and concentration on her face as she read something on it before taking in the third painting. This was the one Y/N almost remembered best. This was the one that changed her and Harry’s relationship in a way neither of them was made aware of till after. You don’t realise the pivotal moments in your life till after they’ve happened, but as they’re happening, you don’t understand their incredible impact. Harry nor Y/N knew how big of a role Viola would play in their lives. What her presence would do to them.

“Is that a smile I see?” she teased. “You got a rise out of me, and now you’re pleased with yourself?”

He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head without looking away from the painting before him.

“Right then.” Y/N said, eager to get the conversation going again. “What’re you best at? There’s a lot of stuff you can do with gymnastics, innit?”

Harry wasted no time. “Swing bar.”

Y/N’s eyebrows immediately shot upward. Trying to be subtle, she let her eyes fall to his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and the curve of his slight biceps. The tan he’d gotten did wonders to the outline of his muscles. Stop, stop, stop-

“Explains the arms.”

Oh. My. God. Immediately she felt her cheeks heat up. And her blushing got worse when Harry looked up at her. He huffed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been checking me out.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have not.”

She walked closer, feeling her bottom lip start to wobble as she saw the painting. Harry had depicted the cliff, the ocean, the forest, the atmosphere of that clifftop perfectly. It was exactly as she remembered it. Just looking at it brought her back to finding Viola, to watching Harry pet her to calm her down, the closeness in the back of Gioele’s car. How willing Harry was to help. How good he’d smelled. How hot his skin had been against hers. That was the first time she’d ever seen him smile; first time she’d seen him happy. It was the first time she saw him show compassion; saw him worry. She hadn’t known then, but she knew for certain now, that if Viola hadn’t stepped out of the woods at that second on that day while Harry and Y/N hadn’t been talking, then none of this would’ve happened.

“What?” His voice was a whisper, the small word leaving his lips like a simple puff of air that hit her jaw, sending a storm of goosebumps up and down her back.

“Your…” she started, swallowing thickly before looking down at the cat in her arms. “Your moped.”

“I’ll get it later.”

She hated that he sounded like he wasn’t faced by the close proximity at all.

“What if someone steals your painting?”

Looking up at him, she realised once again how close they were. They might have been close earlier when he helped calm the cat down outside, but this… this was close. She felt his hot breath against her lips, in her nose; felt his eyes on her like there was nowhere else to look in the car; felt everything too much. He was… so handsome. So incredibly good looking. There was undoubtedly sweat along her hairline and cupid bow, but she literally could not reach up to remove it right now. She was unable to move, not only because of the cat, but because of Harry.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N,” Portia said, pointing at the painting. “What’s that?”

Y/N walked over, looking at what Portia had asked her about. Though she didn’t see it at first, having mistaken it for a dark rock or something alike, Y/N gasped a little when she realised what it was. Small pointy ears, fur a dark brown with some striped black and desert brown and a tail swaying upward. The cat was so tiny, hidden amongst the tall grass by the forest, looking at Y/N with big pleading eyes. Y/N had almost forgotten what Viola looked like, but seeing her on the canvas, it was like being back in Fosdinovo, walking the cobblestoned streets with the little kitten following her every step.

“Viola.” Y/N answered, blinking a few times as her eyesight started to blur.

“What?”

“A cat.”

“A live one?”

“I, uhh,” Y/N nodded. “The day of that painting we found an injured cat in the woods and brought her to the nearest vet so I could help nurse her. She’d broken her foot.”

Portia looked at Y/N, raising her eyebrows. “And you called her Viola?”

“Yeah,” Y/N didn’t take her eyes off the cat. “She stayed with me the rest of the summer.”

Portia turned to face her sister. “Where is she now?”

“Dunno.” Y/N sighed. “I… dunno.”

Y/N looked at Portia, giving her a little smile before walking towards the next painting. Looking at Viola and knowing that she’d left the cat in Harry’s house in Fosdinovo, also knowing Harry had most likely moved out of the Italian mountain village, it hurt. She had no idea what happened to the cat after she left. Absolutely no idea of how she was doing or who was taking care of her now. There were many times when Y/N had cursed herself for not bringing Viola back home with her. After all, they had created a little bond between them that Y/N now realised would stay with her forever.

Walking up to the fourth painting, Y/N felt herself halt some, watching as Portia walked right up to it to study it properly. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because Harry had taught her about how he painted during the summer, if she was getting an eye for these things, or if she was just that observant, but she could swear there was something about this one that set it apart from the other few she’d seen up till now.

It dawned on her that for each painting, her figure had gotten closer and closer to Harry. As if the focus shifted from the nature around her to her alone. From far away in the first one, to taking up the whole lower half of the canvas in this fourth one. Her figure was the first thing you saw. The baby blue dress that only barely covered her bum, her bare legs, her white knee socks, her white docs.

“Don’t bend your knee that much.”

Y/N readjusted her knee.

“No.”

“Then how?!”

The grass shifted behind her, and looking to her right, she noticed Harry walking over. For some reason, Harry getting closer got her heart beating so hard she heard it in her ears and her muscles tensing. He sat down before her, a concentrated furrow to his brows that wasn’t at all intimidating. He just looked focused, deep inside his own head, constructing and planning his new painting.

For some reason, she hadn’t thought of the reason for Harry coming over, only that he was. So when he reached for her leg, she almost jumped.

She blinked as she remembered the first time Harry touched her willingly like that. How he had barked orders at her in the beginning, to coming over and moving her leg like he’d done. It made her thigh seem very cold all of a sudden.

“You’re not being serious right now.” Portia hissed, sliding her finger in the air along with the outline of the mountains at the far back of the painting.

They were dark against the pink, orange, and blue sky, so was the forest, making Y/N stand out majestically against everything else. The hint of a small white outline in the sky showed the presence of the early moon, welcoming the oncoming night. Y/N couldn’t remember seeing the moon that afternoon, but then again, she didn’t remember much besides the fact that she laughed with Harry that day and he touched her bare thigh. But Portia had miraculously seen what had captured Y/N’s attention as well. The landscape in the painting, though it wasn’t blatantly obvious, it resembled her figure. It swayed where her hips did; dipped where her legs did. It did so in a natural manner, Harry had made them seem like actual mountains and not just a replica of her curves, but Y/N couldn’t see anything else.

“The blue,” Portia said, pointing at Y/N’s dress and then at the slight streak of blue in the sky. “Kinda looks alike, does it not?”

Y/N didn’t pay much attention to it. She started walking away, eager to see the next painting, which she knew was a very special one because it might be the one she remembered the most clearly. As she rounded the planet and started walking toward the fifth one, a huge white orb caught her attention. The detail in all of Harry’s creations caught her off guard, but the moon she was looking at right now looked so real it took her breath away. She saw herself standing in the water; saw the baby blue dress; the knee socks and her Dr Marten’s in the sand. It all looked like a photograph, only the moon was abnormally big. But all his paintings looked so real it was almost like if you stripped the display of the glass protection, you could walk right into the world he’d created on the canvas and live there forever.

“What about you?” he asked again, voice low like a mumble.

Y/N hoped he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was hammering, how every nerve in her entire body was on high alert, how every cell was screaming for him to get closer. “What about me?”

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe. The moon is always there.” He said, eyes searching her face. “What about you?”

“Will I always be there?”

He just looked at her, clearly thinking that his look was answer enough.

Her breath hitched somewhere in her throat, and she hoped the rush of emotions that was running through her didn’t show on her face. Portia looked at her with an open mouth before taking in the fifth painting. Y/N knew exactly how her sister was feeling; that overwhelming need to ask herself and everyone else in the room if this was an actual painting, or something from someone’s most desired fantasy captured exactly as it was and printed onto canvas. And maybe it was. But Harry had taken days, weeks, months to finish these paintings, Y/N knew. She remembered those times when she’d watch him paint and he’d refuse to let her see them. She didn’t know why he didn’t want her to see them.

It was so beautiful it was hard to believe someone had made it; it just seemed too celestial for it to be real. She wanted to touch it where Harry had touched it, feel the strokes he’d made, the lines of paint. There was something about this one that sent a shock of pain through her heart no medicine could cure.

“I’d stay up only to get a small glimpse of you.”

She balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her skin to hold herself back from crying. Because all she could remember was how fast Harry had kissed her back when she’d kissed him, the feeling of his lips against hers, and the taste of peach tea on his tongue. His hands roaming her body, gripping onto her thighs as she hooked her legs around his waist. His body against hers, their cells mingling, the moon shining her white light down on them, and the ocean swaying around them.

Portia walked around the planet and onto the next one, and giving the moon one last glance, Y/N followed her. Y/N couldn’t even remember this one. Maybe it was because everything that happened after the wedding blurred together, or maybe she’d just not thought about it enough for it to take up space in her head. But as she got closer, the idea of her being a model for this painting seemed unlikely.

The canvas was black as night, a huge moon in the centre of it like the one before. A figure was floating in the middle of the white moon, a baby blue gown clinging to its form and floating up behind them like they were sinking. As she got closer, Y/N saw that this wasn’t her. All the other paintings were of her, but this one wasn’t. This was Harry.

His arms were floating at an almost 90-degree angle, the baby blue gown hovering behind his arms and torso, just barely covering some of his thighs and crotch. One of his knees was bent a bit more than the other, and the tattoos he had up and down his muscular legs were very visible, making Y/N think back to a time she’d been allowed to touch them. His neck was craned backward, eyes closed and mouth parted ever so slightly, bubbles of air leaving him and making a hasty return for the water’s surface. She remembered his fright of the dark, how much he hated the ocean, but his facial expression showed one of peace. He didn’t seem afraid; didn’t seem like he dreaded any of it. It seemed like he was okay; ready to reach tranquillity and the ultimate meaning to life. He was surrendering himself, it seemed.

“Y/N, I swear to you,” Portia said, pointing at different places on the painting. “Look.”

“At what?”

“You mean you don’t see it?”

“See what, Portia?” Y/N knew she must sound irritated, but with everything going on and all the emotions she was feeling at once, she simply could not hold her anger back.

“The painting,” Portia directed Y/N’s attention back to the canvas. “Do you see?”

Y/N took a closer look.

“Do you see all the blue?”

And it was like her little sister flicked a switch, and suddenly, Y/N saw it. Blue. Baby blue. It was hidden in the waves along the top of the painting, in the shadows of the water, in and around the moon, in his hair, his body, his gown. Taking a few steps back, Y/N wondered how she hadn’t picked up on the blue right away. It was all over the painting. Most of the details on that canvas were baby blue.

Quickly, Y/N walked all the way back to the first painting. Portia just watched her, unsure what was going on, but not wanting to interrupt something if Y/N had come to some sort of realisation.

The only blue in the first one was her dress, in the second one, the sky resembled her dress some. In the third, the sky, ocean, and a bit of the grass surrounding her held the same colour as her and her dress, and in the fourth the landscape swayed along with her form, the sky, the woods, and certain highlights were the exact colour of the dress. How hadn’t she seen it all the first time around? Because once she took a few steps back, the baby blue stood out starkly against everything else. Marching straight past the fifth and the sixth, Y/N wanted to see the last two. Because the second to last put the finishing touch on everything.

The entire canvas was baby blue. Her form was outlined in white, but none of her features were shown. Her breasts, face, or any other part of her body was not included. But Y/N would remember that exact pose till the day she died and long after that also. Because it was the one where Harry had drawn on her; her arms above her head, her knee bent, leg resting over the other. She wondered if this had been the one he’d painted when she laid on the floor of his loft, but why had he been so incredibly detailed when he painted on her if he was just going to erase it forever? Not include it in one of his masterpieces? It didn’t make any sense.

“You let him draw you like one of his bloody French girls.” Portia hissed, about to burst out laughing when she stopped herself. The room was silent as people walked through the exhibition, neither of them wanted to be thrown out or something to that effect.

Y/N looked at her sister. “Yes.”

Portia’s eyes got wide. “Shut the fuck up.”

“He painted on me.”

“Shut. Up.”

Y/N glanced at the painting again, noting that the only thing on that canvas was the very careful outline of her.

“Exactly how well did you fuck him for him to do that?”

“Portia!” Y/N hissed. “Leave off.”

“I’m serious, Y/N, this seems like the summer of your entire life.” Portia smiled, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Did he do you good at least?”

Y/N only gave her a look.

“Oh, come on.” Portia pouted. “I just found out my sister has been shagging with my boss all summer, I want the deets.”

“Can that happen another time? I’m a little busy-“ Y/N gestured around her and Portia nodded, clearly eager to be done here so she could hear Y/N explain everything to her over the phone on her commute home.

“You know,” Portia started, holding up the leaflet. “If you’d just bothered and taken the time to look in the brochure, there’s a lot of information about all the paintings.”

Y/N frowned.

“I kind of had my suspicions about the two of you before you even said something just now.”

Y/N looked down at her brochure, reading the front of it again as she walked toward the last painting. She wanted to go through everything one more time and read the leaflet, she needed to know all the details and all the reasons why Harry had done what he’d done. When she glanced up again, the first thing she noticed was how the planet surrounding the canvas was glowing. A dark golden colour, looking a little like the moon, but as if it was on fire on the inside, the surface of it pure gold. She turned around and looked down the row of planets, meeting Portia’s eyes right after.

“The first one is black,” Portia said. “And the last one is golden.”

Y/N felt her heart hammering faster, felt herself begin to sweat.

“With each planet, you slowly fade into-“

“-Venus.” She finished, looking at the last planet she’d been named after. Y/N Venus Sweeney. She was so overwhelmed she felt a little faint, though she hadn’t known what to expect from the exhibition, this – all of it – was not it. She didn’t want to draw conclusions and think this whole collection was about her, but right now, looking at everything around her, it was hard to think anything else.

She still had one more painting to go, so she grabbed the leaflet and walked to stand in front of it. Instantly, she remembered it. She’d seen this one before. It seemed like ages ago, but she had seen this painting. It was the same one Gioele had stolen from Harry’s house and given to Salvatore and Carina as a wedding gift. Y/N had no idea why that one would be in the collection, what had made Harry put it there. She was just about to open the brochure and read what it said about this particular one when she heard a commotion behind her. The screeching of joggers against the floor as if someone was running, some gasps, Jamie shouting something.

Y/N turned around, and she recognised him right away. Her heart immediately started screaming his name. He walked down the row of planets in a haste, frantically scanning the crowds surrounding each quickly till he came to the last one where she stood. He stopped abruptly as his eyes landed on hers, a sigh of relief leaving him in between pants for air. Had he been running? Quickly, he swallowed, trying to regain his composure before he did anything. While he did that, Y/N took him in.

His hair had grown, he must’ve trimmed it some since last summer, but his curls were lush, his hair thick, and just as brown as she remembered it. He was wearing a colour-block patchwork cardigan with all the colours of the rainbow, a white tee shirt with some blue artwork printed on it, washed denim jeans, and his signature pink Converse. He looked healthy, maybe not as tan as she remembered him to be, but he looked good. He looked like the same Harry she had fallen in love with back then; it was still him. He was here. Right before her. After months apart, he was here.

“Y/N.” He said, voice faint as he took a reluctant step forward. It was like he realised what he was doing – getting closer to her when he had no idea if she still wanted that - and was almost about to take a step backward again but stopped himself.

She was unable to say anything at all. One second she had been about to take in the last painting of the collection, and the next Harry had rushed into his gallery and now he stood right in front of her. It didn’t seem real. The months they hadn’t talked, the months they hadn’t seen each other. They all hung in the air between them, pushed them apart from one another; demanding them to keep separated. She wanted to defy their distance, wanted to fling herself into his arms and melt into him like she had done so many times before, but the uncertainty, the separation, and the many curious eyes watching them stopped her.

Harry was about to say something else when his eyes fell on something behind her, clamping his mouth shut.

“Hi,” Portia said. “Don’t know if you remember me.”

“I-I do, I…” Harry’s eyes fell to Y/N again as he trailed off, glancing back at Portia after clearing his throat. “Portia.”

“And you’re H. Styles.” Y/N could hear the smile in Portia’s voice, and Y/N knew instantly she was taking the piss, telling Harry she knew exactly who he was and why he was here. Whispers were heard, as if the visitors all suddenly realised who they were looking at. Someone gasped and someone on the other side of the room started walking closer. Harry looked around him as if he just understood what he’d done by coming here. Their eyes met again, and Harry let out a sigh.

“Can we talk?” he asked, eyes big and pleading. “Please.”

Y/N looked at everyone around them, then back at Harry, hoping he’d understand that she didn’t want to do it in front of everyone else. Taking a few steps backward, Harry began walking towards the exit of the exhibition, making sure Y/N caught up with him before he started walking normally. Y/N glanced at Portia over her shoulder, but Portia was grinning so widely Y/N knew her sister was okay with her leaving her behind for a bit.

The next room they entered was just as dark as the first one, but the paintings were huge projections onto the walls, ceiling, and floor, showcasing all the details each of them portrayed. Harry walked quickly through the room, having seen this multiple times before – having created this -, but Y/N slowed. The attention to detail was incredible; it looked so real, yet it still looked like art. She was never able to really put her finger on it, but then again, she supposed that was what creativity was. The lines between what was certain and what was a craft from someone’s imagination, blurred to the point of doubt, yet it’s human nature to find an explanation for everything; but in art we find an excuse not to have one. Maybe that was what drew people to it; it was real, but not real enough to need reason.

He held the door open for her, leading her to a smoking area in the back of the gallery. Two trees rose up, some dead grass sprung up between the stone flooring, and, thankfully, no one was there. The sun was still shining, and somewhere not too far off, an ambulance siren was going off. It was weird to be with Harry in an environment other than quiet, warm, rural Fosdinovo, it was almost as if she associated him with the peace of the Italian countryside now. But she didn’t mind having him here in London. Not in the least. In fact, she liked it very much.

“Y/N,” he repeated, almost as if he didn’t really know what else to say; almost as if he had to repeat her name over and over and over again to tell himself that she was really here. He just looked at her, studying her intently, probably to make sure she was okay.

“I didn’t know…” she started, blinking a few times. “Didn’t know you were in London.”

“I’m in London.”

“But I didn’t know you were.”

“But I am.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Harry sighed. “No.”

“Why?”

Harry opened his mouth but hesitated. “I… I just… It’s not as if I…” he ran a hand through his hair, sighing again. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

She frowned. “What made you think that?”

“We haven’t talked in a couple of months, have we? Maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

“You think I’d forgotten about you?” Y/N crossed her arms. “I’m not the one who got disinterested and pulled away.”

Harry’s face screwed up into that familiar scowl she had seen so many times before. “I never bloody lost interest, what’re you on about?”

“Seemed that way over text.”

“Those are text messages!” Harry gestured with his arms, very obviously frustrated. “How much can you tell from a text?!”

“A lot!”

Harry groaned. “Y/N, please.”

She stood her ground, looking at him and waiting for him to say something that would change her mind. How had they gone months without talking, months before that with barely any communication, and he didn’t think she’d be annoyed at him for that. She was annoyed at herself, too. It takes two to communicate.

“I don’t want to fight.” He said. “I… I just… I don’t want to fight. Can we just talk?”

“We’re talking.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the ground, nodding a bit before he dared look up at her. “What’ve you been up to?”

Though she wanted to yell at him, tell him that she’d been busy writing and researching her dissertation, that she had been busy missing him, she composed herself. She might be frustrated, but Harry was trying, so she should as well.

“Uni,” she simply said. “And you?”

Harry let out a short breath through his nose. “Figured, stupid question, really.”

She couldn’t help the slight tug at the edge of her lips.

“Been travelling the world, showing off the exhibition.” He gestured back at the gallery. “It’s been wonderful, but I’m glad it’s over now. Can relax for a bit before I start painting for clients again.”

“It’s quite the exhibit.”

Harry nodded.

“Almost a little too extra.”

He let out a chuckle, eyes falling to the ground again. “You think?”

“Wasn’t it hard travelling around with all of that?” Y/N asked, thinking about the huge planets – or rather Venuses – back in the exhibition. Seemed unlikely that they travelled far distances with all of that, but then again, what did she know, she hadn’t talked to him in a long while. And when they did talk, it wasn’t about the transportation of his collection from country to country because he never talked about it.

“No, we drove around most of the time, then by plane when it got to travelling from continent to continent.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

His eyes flicked between hers, inhaling slowly. The sun hit the top of his hair, making his locks shine like gold, and Y/N remembered the countless number of times before she’d seen his hair like that in the early morning light, or a bright sunset. Memories are supposed to bring you joy, especially those remembered with fondness, but those are also the ones that hurt the most to relive.

“Are we really gonna chat about anything but what we want to chat about?” Harry asked, face very serious all of a sudden.

“Which is?”

“Us.” Harry said, something in his throat making the word almost sound choked. “And… and…”

She waited, feeling her heart beat harder in her chest.

“And us some more.”

She let out a small chuckle.

“What?”

“Start then.”

She could tell he wanted to frown at her, as if he wanted her to have a certain reaction. But he didn’t, instead he let his shoulders fall a bit, taking her in for a few moments more before he decided to start talking again.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

It hurt every time he said that, as if he didn’t believe that what she’d felt this summer wasn’t half of what he had.

“Tortured me to think about you.”

She took a little step backward, not wanting to listen to him talk on about how she’d hurt him.

“But the thought of you also brought me peace, as it always has. Brought me inspiration and motivation.” He took a step closer to her. “I miss you. I’ve missed you since the day I was brought into this world, I never knew I did till I was without you.”

Those three words radiated throughout her entire body, her heart screaming them right back at his. I miss you I miss you I miss you I-

“Please don’t…” he trailed off, balling his hands into fists as if he was mad at himself for not finding the right words for what he was feeling. “Don’t leave.”

She swallowed, not wanting the hundreds of butterflies and warm feelings in her chest to get the better of her when she answered. “Don’t leave… now? In general?-“

“-Don’t leave me. If not as a lover, as a friend. I need you in my life to some capacity.”

“Harry-“

“-I’m in love with you, Y/N.” His voice was so soft, yet urgent. He needed her to feel the same way, to understand what he was talking about. “I love you.”

Every cell in her body vibrated with the effect of those words, telling Harry she felt the same. In every way one person could love another, she loved him.

“If you even feel a fragment the same, please tell me.” His eyes were so big, pleading with her.

She felt so much all at once, finding the right words – finding words at all – was difficult. Every single part of her tried, her brain working hard and fast so she wouldn’t leave him hanging. But that was exactly what she did. So overwhelmed with absolutely everything today had brought, she couldn’t do anything but feel.

Harry’s jaw visibly tensed with the lack of response. “Or don’t.”

She opened her mouth, brain working a hundred miles a second to find words for him.

“If you don’t, then that’s fine. I won’t pretend it’s not gonna hurt and I’ll need some time to come to terms with it.” He sighed, eyes falling to the ground as if he couldn’t look at her now. “I… I was terrified this would happen.”

She couldn’t just stay fucking silent, she had to say something. Speak you bloody nonce, don’t do him like this. “Harry-“

“-What I’ve been most scared about since we stopped talking is that I played an insignificant role in your life, when you played the most significant in mine.” His eyes were still on the flooring, gripping the ends of his colourful cardigan. “A part you won’t talk about with others, that you keep a secret.”

“I’m not ashamed of this summer, Harry-“

“-I feared you’d never need me like I need you.” He said, voice thick with something resembling torment. “Because I just… I know we have no power over who we end up loving, you meet someone and before you know it, they’re so important to you that imagining a life without them in it is like staring uninspired at a blank canvas. But I’ve chosen to pour every ounce of my love onto you. I’ve chosen you, and I’ll continue to choose you without hesitation and without fail, for the rest of my life.”

She felt her eyes sting, fearing that she’d start crying if he continued on talking. Why was it that before their first kiss, Harry hadn’t been one for talking, but after it he hadn’t dithered? Everything he’d told her since had been so heartfelt and true, she felt like he was putting words to her very own feelings.

The right words wouldn’t come, and she felt like the longer she left him standing there in silence, the longer she let him ramble on, the more catastrophic this would get. Because she felt the same for him, but what she felt was so enormous and she was afraid she’d never find words for it. She wasn’t one for art or expression. She studied science and medicine and animals, she knew all that, but she didn’t know how to tell someone like Harry what he wanted to hear. Most of the time, at least before, he didn’t need her to say anything. Her presence, her touch, her comfort was enough for him. He never expected anything else from her but to reciprocate his feelings. Which she did. Oh, did she love him. More than she thought possible.

“I-“ she started, but cut herself off as she didn’t know where it was going. Harry looked up at her instantly, instant hope in his eyes. “Your exhibit.”

Not the appropriate thing to be talking about right now, she thought to herself, but better than nothing.

“Could you explain it to me?”

He blinked. “Explain it?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling every surface of her body heat up. “Because I knew you were painting me, but I didn’t…”

His eyes lingered on her lips for a second, but he quickly composed himself, a slight redness appearing along his cheekbones. A wave of goosebumps ran up her spine.

“I didn’t expect…”

“Didn’t expect the whole exhibition to be about you?”

She just looked at him, biting her bottom lip.

Harry let out an amused chuckle. “You’re the smartest person I know, thought you might get it right away, to be completely honest with you.”

“It took me off guard.”

“Right, should I walk you through it, then?” Harry gestured at the gallery. “Want to see it?”

She sensed irritation in his voice and sighed. “You don’t have-“

“-Don’t fucking say I don’t have to. You asked about the exhibit. You don’t understand, even though I just made it very clear for you. So, let's.”

He walked toward the door, flinging it open and beckoning for Y/N to walk through it first. Walking first, he stomped straight through the entire exhibition, right past people who were leaving. They all looked over at Y/N and Harry as they walked the opposite way, a few raised eyebrows and some whispering. Portia still stood in the first room with the eight planets, looking up as Y/N and Harry came back. A smile first graced her features, but seeing the look on Harry’s face and how fast they were both walking, she quickly pieced together that something was happening.

“This,” Harry said as they reached the reception, pointing at the wall with the projection of that painting Y/N had found in the flat in Fosdinovo. The drive to his childhood home in Manchester. “You recognise this?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She gave him a look to tell him she didn’t appreciate his tone. He didn’t seem to care.

“Told you the path leads to uncertainty, hence the darkness at the end of it. I didn’t know where my life would lead me and I was terrified. Now,” he pointed to the dark corridor. “What does that lead to?”

Y/N blinked a few times, looking up at Harry when he didn’t continue talking. But he was already glancing down at her, raised eyebrows and a stoic look on his face. Though she was tempted to tell him to shove it if he was going to keep that attitude up, she didn’t. She needed to tell him how she felt, that he wasn’t alone in wanting more. She needed to find the right words. But right now, knowing Harry, he’d just get furious with her if she told him now that he was putting the effort in and showing her what everything meant.

“The paintings.”

“It leads to the exhibition.”

“That’s the same thing.”

Harry didn’t respond, he just walked towards the corridor without looking back. Y/N felt her anger bubble up, but she tried to control it as she followed him to the first room of the exhibition.

“Hope you know what the solar system is.” Harry shouted back to her.

She dug her nails into the palm of her hands, gritting her teeth from responding. Portia was standing at the other side of the room, watching them with wide eyes. Everyone else had left, she realised. The gallery was closing, and Harry’s exhibition needed to be taken down so the next one could be put up. This was his very last day showing his collection. Y/N gave her a look to keep quiet, the last thing Harry needed now was Portia intervening.

“Our solar system’s got eight planets-“

“-I bloody know how many planets there are in our solar system-“

“-But to me and my life,” Harry walked to the side of the room, pointing down at the last planet. The full Venus. Her plant. “In my universe, there’s only one.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“They each fade more and more into Venus. Notice how the first one’s black.”

“Like the end of the painting I found in Fosdinovo.”

Harry’s arm fell to his side, having proven his point on why he’d chosen space to be the theme for his exhibition. He walked on over to the first painting; straight past Y/N, jaw still tense and the look in his eyes enraged. She realised this was torturing him. Going through everything without knowing how she felt, and probably fearing – and believing – the worst. She had to say something.

“This one,” he pointed. “We can barely see you. You were a fucking pain in my arse.”

“Hey!”

“There’s only one dot of baby blue, you’re far away from where I’m standing.”

“If you don’t-“

“-Next one,” he walked onto the second one without Y/N even having reached him and the first painting. “You’re closer to me, still not very close, still not a lot of blue. Only some in the sky. Didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Harry, slow down-“

“-Third,” it seemed he was on a mission, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible. “You’re close. You can see baby blue in the sky, ocean, your dress, some in the grass. Still not doing it on purpose.”

She jogged over to the fourth as he did, really wanting to take a grip of his arm and tell him to calm down. But she had no right. Not now. But she was still getting annoyed with him.

“Fourth is when I start doing it deliberately. Realised I caught feelings for you, and you can see that in the landscape, how it follows the outline of your body.” Harry pointed just as the lights inside the planets went out. “There’s baby blue in quite literally everything.”

The lack of lights to showcase the paintings didn’t stop him, Harry walked on. She ran after him, about to tell him to slow down again when he walked right past the beach painting with the huge moon.

“The night you changed the moon for me forever. Now I do as you said you do; I talk to her. Every night.”

Y/N felt her heart ache. She wondered, if they were both talking to the moon at the same time, if they were talking about one another, why didn’t the moon whisper Harry’s words into her ear and hers into his? Why didn’t she help them?

“You’re further away in that one ‘cause I realised I’d have to let you go at the end of the summer, didn’t want to get too attached.” A dry laugh slipped past his lips. “Look how well that worked out.”

They stopped in front of the second moon painting, where he was floating in what looked to be the middle of a huge and dark ocean.

“You once told me the moon knows all your deepest secrets and biggest desires,” Harry pointed at himself in the painting. “Here’s me surrendering myself to her.”

“Why’re you in the ocean?”

Harry chuckled, running both hands over his face as if he couldn’t believe her.

“What?”

He looked at her for a few seconds while clenching his jaw. “I used to be terrified of the dark and the ocean. You taught me monsters won’t magically appear just ‘cause you can’t see. They’re just as likely to show themselves in sunlight.” He glanced at the painting again, blinking a few too-many times as he looked away from her. “If you take your time to understand and truly look at this painting, you’ll understand it.”

She was about to open her mouth when Harry said, “And don’t use your ‘I only know science, I barely know how to interpret art’ rubbish.”

“Well, it’s true.” She mumbled, but Harry only clicked his tongue, disinterested in her insistence on not understanding art. He walked on to the next one, the one that was completely baby blue, where her body was carefully outlined in white.

“Here you can clearly tell-“

“-I have a question,” Y/N said, making Harry shut up. “That painting of me… the one where I’m… Where’s that one? I mean…”

Harry stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to continue, but when she never did, he mumbled another question right back at her, “You think I’d put a painting of your naked body on display in my exhibition?”

She just looked at him, seeing something in his eyes that was vaguely familiar but too far away to fully grasp.

“I’m keeping that one-“ he stopped himself, swallowing hard. “It’s private.”

She nodded.

“Anyway,” Harry went back to the painting before them. “You represent baby blue to me, so here’s your colour – you -,” he paused for a second. “Becoming everything.”

She looked at him, feeling everything within her wither and bloom at the same time. The painting seemed to take him back to a time long ago, every urge he had to do this as quickly as possible seemed to leave him when he looked at that painting. They still had one left, but he forgot about that, losing himself in a memory. And Y/N lost herself in him. Suddenly, proper lights lit up the room and the stars that had illuminated everything prior, disappeared.

“Harry!”

Harry didn’t meet Y/N’s eyes as he stepped away from the row of planets, looking up at Jamie how had shouted his name.

“Closing time. We need to pack up, mate.”

Harry nodded, looking over at Y/N who suddenly felt her heart pick up speed.

Jamie clapped their hands together. “Come on, you lot, you need to leave.”

For a few moments, it was like the two of them moved in slow motion. Harry took a few steps so he could face the other way, ready to leave through the backdoor, not breaking eye contact with Y/N. Once they looked away from one another, the rest of the world would resume being and they had to leave. Y/N had to say something, she had to tell him. But everything was clogged up somewhere in her throat, she wasn’t able to say anything. This whole exhibit… it was about her. Harry had cared so much about her and he still did. But she couldn’t find the right words. She had to say something. Had to let him know she felt the same way.

Harry’s jaw clenched again before he looked away from Y/N and started walking back down the way he’d taken Y/N before. Everything inside her went into panic mode.

“Harry.” She said, but he didn’t turn around. She started jogging after him. “Harry.”

“Y/N-“

“-Just a sec, Portia!” Y/N continued to follow Harry through the now lit exhibit. “Harry!”

He didn’t turn around still.

“Harry, please.” She took a grip of his arm.

Harry stopped, dragging his arm out of her grip. “Y/N, stop.”

The force of his words took her off guard and it took her a few seconds to compose herself. “I’m sorry.”

Harry nodded, looking behind Y/N at the closing exit door. “What?”

“I… I need to tell you that…” she swallowed, feeling her palms get clammy. “You said earlier that…”

Harry looked at her expectantly, something in the frantic way his eyes moved over her face and the quick breath he took made her think he detected reciprocation in her voice. “Yes?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her heart was beating hard and fast, she was beginning to sweat.

“What, Y/N?”

“I can’t, I-“ She ran both hands over her face, frustrated with herself. She groaned.

“What?”

“I know how I’m feeling, but I don’t know how to say it.”

Harry took a small step towards her. “Say what?”

“How I feel for you.”

He let out a small breath. “And how’s that?”

“Just how you feel about me.”

There was a single second when Harry’s eyes were filled with elation; like he was ready to embrace her, kiss her, and never let her go. Wanted to become one with her right then and there, to never leave her side again. A ghost of a smile grace his features and his shoulders lowered; his entire composure seemed to relax. As if all the anger he’d been carrying around with him in the gallery disappeared. But the next second, realisation sunk in and he glanced away for a second.

“Need to hear you say it.” He said, voice weak. “Know you say you’re not one for words, but there are moments in life when words are everything.”

Y/N felt a drop of sweat run down her back. Her head was spinning.

“I deserve to hear you say it yourself.” Harry said.

“I know! That’s why I’m trying so hard to say something!”

Harry nodded, eyes falling to the floor. “You’re not ready.”

Y/N frowned, sure her panic showed on her face. “I am ready. That’s why I followed you out here, isn’t it?”

“No, Y/N, you’re clearly not. You might feel it, but being vulnerable is hard for you. Admitting to being vulnerable isn’t something you know how to do.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open.

“Your whole life you’ve put up this cold and hard exterior to protect yourself from feeling too much. You’ve had a hard time receiving the love you needed while growing up, and you’ve been burned in the past-“

“-Don’t psychoanalyse me.” She pointed a finger at him. “You know I have a hard time opening up to people completely.”

“You have a hard time admitting to letting your guard down. You do it willingly, but there’s a part of you that just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I said don’t psycho-“

“-I know, I’m sorry.” Harry took a few steps back, as if getting ready to walk away from her. “I’ll wait.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Harry nodded, just about to turn around and leave when she called his name again.

“You just begged me to tell you I felt the same way, and I did.” Y/N said, taking a few steps toward him, but stopping herself. “I told you.”

“That you felt like I did.”

“Exactly.”

Harry let out a small chuckle and though it sent a swarm of butterflies straight to Y/N’s stomach, it also hurt because she knew the next few words would send her into a panic. “And thank you for that, but I told you how I felt. Now you need to tell me. Physical show of affection is nice, but proper verbal confirmation that someone loves you…” he trailed off, looking at her in silence for some seconds. “It’s key.”

“Harry-“

“-I love you.”

She fell silent, taken off guard. But the words warmed her so that she was sure she’d never freeze again. He started walking away.

“I’ll wait, you need to figure this out on your own. I know,” smiling he continued, “Now I need you to comprehend.”

Mouth falling open as she tried to force herself to say something, she cursed herself over and over again for having built up that humongous wall around her. Being vulnerable was like admitting that you were weak, and she knew those two weren’t the same thing at all, but she’d associated them with one another her whole life. She needed to stop.

“I’ll wait for you.”

And just like that, Harry left her this time. She was tempted to run after him again, but to what purpose? To have him tell her yet again that he needed her to tell him she loved him when she couldn’t bring herself to? To hurt him again? No, she was going to deal with her struggles to admit vulnerability herself. He deserved to hear her say everything he’d just told her and much more. And hopefully Harry would still love her the way he did now by that time. How terrified she already was that he didn’t.

But if that was the case, at least she’d have taught herself the importance of vulnerability.

Thursday, 10 September 2020

“Smile, baby.” Elaine brought her phone up, snapping a picture of Y/N with her diploma in hand, standing in front of her University.

It was a nice day; the sun was shining through a thin layer of clouds and the temperature was high, but not so high that Y/N was struggling to breathe. All her course mates were milling around behind, beside, and around her, saying their last goodbyes before everyone was to part ways after this. It had been bittersweet saying goodbye to her mates. She knew she was going to see them again and knew she would be happier now that she didn’t have to care about uni, but it would be sad not seeing them and not knowing when she would meet them next. Though she hadn’t really been close with any of them, she still counted them as her friends and would miss their time together.

Portia stood beside Elaine and gave Y/N a little applause, grinning from ear to ear as her sister walked over to them again. “Look at you, all smart.”

“Yes,” Y/N said, doing a little dance with her diploma. “I’d like to think I am.”

“Look,” Elaine begged Y/N over so she could look at the pictures she’d taken of her. “You look lovely, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, the lighting’s amazing.”

“So peng.” Portia said, zooming in on Y/N’s face.

Y/N playfully hit Portia in the head with her diploma, making the two sisters chuckle before they turned back to their mother. Elaine smiled at Y/N, there was a look in her eyes Y/N wasn’t accustomed to seeing on her mother’s face when looking at her. It was something she often directed at Portia, but Y/N rarely got this. Pride. It almost made Y/N’s eyes sting with oncoming tears.

“Come on, girls,” Elaine said, taking each of her daughters’ hands. “We need to celebrate. What’s a good pub around yours, Y/N?”

“Hmm,” Y/N thought for a few seconds. “There’s a Gregg’s two minutes away.”

“Sausage rolls!” Portia exclaimed.

“We’re not celebrating you getting a degree at bloody Gregg’s, are you dim?” Elaine huffed, unlocking the car once they reached it. “We need to get a pint each, and a fancy dinner later.”

“Reckon we could afford a fancy dinner in London, Mum?” Y/N sat down in the car, putting her seatbelt on as Elaine started the car. “I’m skint.”

“Well, you’re not the one paying for the dinner, are you?” Elaine raised her eyebrows at her, driving away towards Y/N’s flat in Hackney. Portia reached into the backseat where Y/N sat, squeezing her knee before she sat back and focused on the city they were driving in. Y/N leaned forward and squeezed Portia’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming, P. Know you have a lot going on at the moment, but it meant a lot to me that you bothered to come.”

Porta looked over her shoulder at Y/N, studying her sister for a second before she smiled. “Might be busy, but it’s your graduation. It’s important to me.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up a bit, something they always did when she managed to discuss her feelings. “Thank you anyway.”

“You’re very welcome.” Portia’s smile widened, and she grabbed Y/N’s hand, kissing it before turning to look ahead again.

Y/N smiled herself, sitting back in her seat and looking out the window.

She’d never really gotten attached to London. Maybe it was because she didn’t really have anyone she was close to, or the constant fast-paced lifestyle you had to lead to live there. Y/N had always preferred a slow life, like the one she had grown up knowing in Maldon. Essex was calm, it was what she’d known her whole life and what she wanted to know forever. Regardless of where she wanted to live and where she felt she belonged; she’d gotten a job at North London Veterinary Clinic so she didn’t really have much of a choice in where she could settle down for a little while. North London wasn’t as busy as Central, so she wouldn’t be as overwhelmed as she usually was. She’d have to move and though the thought stressed her out, she was ready for a little change. It would be good for her.

“Do you remember that guy I was chatting to for a little while?” Portia suddenly asked, snapping Y/N out of her reverie.

“Drake?”

“No.”

“That Felix lad?”

“Not him.”

“Ezra?”

Portia shook her head.

“Jackson-“

“-Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Portia turned around in her seat. “Do you have to rub it in?”

“That you date a lot of men? I don’t have to do that; you know it perfectly well yourself.”

Portia rolled her eyes. “Azeem.”

“Ahh! Azeem!” Y/N nodded her head, giving her little sister a smile. “Remember you talked about him, yes. Ages ago, though.”

Portia seemed to think back to the time she was talking to Azeem, getting lost in her own thoughts for a few short seconds before she blurted out, “Anyway, I met him on a night out like two days ago.”

“You did? What’d he say?”

“Just that it was nice to see me again.” Portia said. “Told me I looked good. And then he walked me home.”

In an attempt to come to terms with how she was feeling and letting other people know, it had been one of the first things Y/N had done. She sat Portia down when she came back to London, told her she loved the fact her sister came down and that they got to spend time together because it brought them closer – and she wanted to be close to her sister since they’d struggled being just that growing up -, but Portia needed her own place. If she was going to spend that much time in the capital, she might as well move there permanently. Elaine had struggled to come to terms with the fact that her youngest daughter would be moving out, especially considering how much time and resources she’d put into Portia and her career. But both the sisters had convinced their mother that this was what Portia needed to do. She needed to become independent. And besides, Portia wouldn’t be alone in London, Y/N lived there as well.

“And…?” Y/N urged, raising her eyebrows to show she was eager to know what happened next.

“He asked me out on a date.”

“He did?!” Y/N grinned. “Why did you stop seeing each other in the first place?”

Portia sighed. “It was hard to not see him very often, we lived far away from one another, and all that. But now that I live in London, maybe it’ll work out.”

“Is he a decent bloke, Y/N?” Elaine looked in the driving mirror back at Y/N. “I won’t take Portia’s word for it. You know she’s blinded by a good shag when she’s got one.”

“Mum!” Portia exclaimed. “Don’t say that! You’re not allowed to say that!”

“Say what? What you always tell me? You talk about lads and your sex life constantly.”

“I do not! Oh, my God!”

Y/N laughed, zoning out as her little sister and mother started arguing in the front. They soon reached Hackney and Y/N’s flat building. It felt weird knowing that Thursday next week, she’d be moving out of this flat and into a new one. Though Hackney wasn’t the nicest place to be living in London – or the nicest place to just be walking through – it had been Y/N’s home for five years now. Sure, she spent loads of time in Maldon and Essex, but this was her place in London. But soon, Hampstead would probably be it. It wasn’t that the commute would be horrible from Hackney and up to North London, but she would rather have a stroll to work in the morning instead of using public transit. It was bloody unbearable on the tube in the mornings sometimes.

They exited the car and Y/N rummaged through her purse for her keys, giving them to Portia when she reached her hand out for them.

“Thanks, babes.” Y/N said, getting her diploma out of the car seat before closing the door and letting their mother lock the car.

Portia glanced at Y/N for a little while, a grin spreading out over her lips.

“What?” Y/N asked, gesturing for her sister to unlock the door so they could walk on in.

“Dunno,” Portia shrugged, putting the key in the hole and turning it. “You never call me ‘babe’ or anything like that, but you’ve started recently.”

“Been watching too much Love Island.”

Portia laughed, holding the door open for her mother and sister. The lot of them walked up the stairs to the second story, about to let Y/N change out of her heels so they could go have a pint and then go out to dinner. Though she wouldn’t look as smashing as she did with her heels on, they would ultimately kill her feet and she was not about that life today. She’d just gotten a degree, she was going to feel good all day. So fuck heels.

They reached Y/N’s door and she let Portia unlock that one as well. Her flat was as simplistic as always; one single room with a small kitchen, a bed, a desk, and a door to a small bathroom. Elaine walked over to the desk, sitting down in Y/N’s office chair while Portia bent down and picked up something behind the door.

“Mail.” She said, giving Y/N a few envelopes.

“Thanks.” Y/N took it, looking through the envelopes to see nothing interesting. A couple of bills, some rubbish, and…

“Where are we going after this then?” Elaine asked, looking from Y/N to Portia. But Y/N didn’t hear what Portia was answered because she was too busy reading the small slip of paper that told her she’d gotten a parcel. Everything that was too big to slip through the mail slot was out into a cupboard on the outside of Y/N’s flat. Beside her front door was another, smaller door where her electricity metre was. If she wasn’t in to receive the parcel herself, she’d written on her mail slot to just pop it in there.

She put all her mail down on the kitchen counter before walking outside to check the cupboard. Upon opening it, she saw a single brown parcel, though it looked more like a gift than anything. She reached for it, bringing it out into proper lighting. She read her own address on the front, and when turning it around, she found it a little hard to breathe. Had he…

Y/N walked back into the flat, closing the door behind her and placing the package on the kitchen counter so she could unpack it. She knew Elaine and Portia were talking behind her about something, probably where they were going to go have their pint, but Y/N could not focus on anything but what was right in front of her. Ripping the paper off, a sea of colour was revealed to her and she recognised what she was looking at right away.

“A sunny morning in Essex.” Y/N smiled, looking at him. “The most beautiful sight in the world, if I may say so.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, putting the brush away and placing his hand on her thigh, turning to face her.

“Uh-huh.” Her smile widened some as he moved closer to her, brushing his nose gently against hers.

“I can think of more beautiful sights than a sunrise in bleeding Essex.”

She ran her hand over it, feeling the strokes of paint she’d put there with Harry’s help. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the paintings in his collection, but it was the most breath-taking creation she’d ever laid her eyes upon. It was something she’d made with Harry. It was art. Picking it up, something fell to the kitchen counter. An envelope.

“What’s that?” Portia asked, but Y/N couldn’t answer.

She put the canvas back down on the counter and reached for the envelope, tearing it open. It was his handwriting and she suddenly longed for him again. Months had gone by, but she thought about him every day. He was always with her, always motivated her; made her want to be better. And seeing something the two of them made a year ago, reliving the memory of them sitting close and creating something beautiful in the warm Italian summer night, it made her yearn in a way she never had before.

‘Complimenti per la laurea, celeste.’

Looking down on the canvas again, she suddenly recognised it. The landscape resembled the one in Tuscany, the one she had walked through and lived in all last summer. And in the corner was a white house, almost like a mansion of sorts, but not as big as some of the houses she’d passed on the countryside. She didn’t remember painting that. In fact, she barely remembered painting anything but the colour of the sunrise. Orange, yellow, blue. Harry must’ve completed the painting after she left.

“Y/N,” Portia said, now standing by her sisters’ shoulder. “Is that one of his paintings?”

Y/N just looked at he canvas, unable to say anything.

“Is that one of his fucking paintings?” Portia gasped, looking at Elaine and back at Y/N. “Imagine how much that is worth!”

“I’m not gonna sell his painting, Tia.”

“No, but-“ Portia gestured at the artwork, squealing. “What’d the card say?”

“Think he’s congratulating me on graduating.” Y/N put the card down, looking at the painting again. The room fell silent as nosy Elaine probably didn’t know which of her questions to ask first, Portia looked dumbfounded at the canvas, and Y/N yet again lost herself in daydreams of Harry. He knew she was graduating today. Sent her their painting. He congratulated her on finally getting her degree. He was still thinking about her like she was thinking about him. One of Y/N’s fears with taking so long to figure herself out, he’d somehow move on. But she believed in him enough, knew how she felt well enough, to know that they’d see each other again.

“You have to leave.” Portia said. “Y/N, it’s been six months.”

“I know.”

“You have to go to bloody Italy right this second.” Portia looked around Y/N’s flat. “Where’s your bag?”

“What about my life here? I’m starting a new job next week, I’m moving.”

“Figure that stuff out next week.” Portia smiled. “You’ve grown so much in the last few months, Y/N. You’re softer now, not so prone to fighting people for not having the same opinion as you, but you listen and you’re willing to change. Not for the world, but for yourself. Harry didn’t tell you to embrace tenderness just so you could admit how you were feeling about him, but also so you’d be nicer to yourself.”

“But I already am.”

“I know, but he wanted you to allow more love into your life. By seizing love and allowing yourself to feel, not only self-love, but the love of others, you allow yourself to live fully and completely.” Portia squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “Without regret, without apology.”

Y/N smiled a little at her sister, studying her face. “Portia Cressida, when the fuck did you become so wise?”

“Can’t let people know I know shit or else I’ll ruin my dumb image.”

The girls laughed, and Portia rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder, glancing at the painting Harry had gifted her sister.

“Go, Y/N.”

Saturday, 12 September 2020

She remembered Italy to be hot, but something about Italy in autumn was almost unbearable. Everything was still a lush green, nothing had changed outdoors since last year it seemed, everything still looked the same. But Y/N wondered how that was possible when she wasn’t even in the southern part of Tuscany anymore, she was in Veneto, a county further up north. North-west Italy looked as summery in autumn as Y/N would’ve expected it to, and she loved it. Though she didn’t like the sun much, she’d come to appreciate it more than the rain of England. Besides, she could stand the heat if it meant meeting Harry again.

She’d called Jamie yesterday, asked them where she’d be able to meet Harry. She knew she could’ve just asked Harry, but she also wanted to see the surprise on his face when he saw her on his doorstep. So, she hadn’t told him she was coming. Which could either end with them living happily ever after or him saying he didn’t feel the same anymore. Thinking about the latter gave her a panic attack.

She hadn’t brought much with her, just a small bag as a carry-on and the clothes she was wearing. A see-through red, yellow, white, and pink tie dye crop top, showing off her cute black bralette underneath, a washed-out pair of high-waisted boyfriend denim jeans, and a black pair of Dr Marten’s. Though it had gotten a bit chilly on the plane, she knew Italy would be hot, and she had been very right about that. Besides, she needed to look extra cute now that she was seeing Harry again for the first time in six months.

The bus ride wasn’t as bumpy as the one she’d taken to Fosdinovo, the bus was new, and she trusted the driver to know if something was wrong. She hadn’t trusted Gioele to know the same, which she applauded herself for in retrospect. The bus was fairly new and the road to Padua, Veneto was nice. She’d done some research and figured out the reason why Harry might’ve moved up north and close to Padua. It was a city known for art; spectacularly pretty and often overlooked by Venice, a mere hour-drive away. Knowing Harry, he’d probably walk through the quieter streets of Venice to get inspiration or sit on a corner caf�� in Padua to people-watch. She knew he wanted to get out of Fosdinovo, but he hadn’t been able to remove himself entirely from the Italian culture he had immersed himself in. His love for that country was too great for him to ever truly leave.

Reaching Padua, Y/N got off and got a taxi right away. She told the driver where she was going, and though it was a bit out of town and onto the countryside – not to Y/N’s surprise, Harry liked quiet after all – he agreed to get her there. It took them about 30 minutes to reach the house, and when they did, it was a simple gravel path. She obviously had to walk for a bit to get there, but she was glad she got to take in Harry’s new residence in the calmness that was the outskirts of Padua. She could make out the white house at the end of the road, the newly sown trees that lined the path, and knew when they had grown to their full height, they would envelope the drive like a tunnel of green leaves and nature. Y/N smiled a little to herself as she imagined it, knowing that Harry most likely had the exact same thought in mind.

It was nice seeing how he decided to live now, especially after everything that happened in Fosdinovo. Secluded, but a couple of neighbours a few minutes’ walk up or down the cemented road she’d just been on. It was undoubtedly his new paradise. And by the looks of it, the closer she got, it seemed he was still working on the house. White and grand, with huge French windows and sheer curtains on either side of them all, there was still some construction work going on on the outside, though the workers weren’t working today it seemed. It was only 12pm, but maybe Harry wanted them to take the day off to relax. She’d ask him, she told herself, because she was now in the driveway, viewing the red front door, looking in through the windows to see if she saw him. Her heart was hammering so fast in her chest that she noticed her tie dye top vibrating with each beat.

Reaching forwards, she pressed the doorbell, taking a step back so the door wouldn’t hit her in the face when he opened it. Nearly as quickly as it had gone off, she heard something very familiar inside the house. Spending time around animals nearly all the time, Y/N’s puppy radar went off when she heard the tiny barks of a baby dog inside. Immediately, her mouth fell open, and she walked to the closest window to look inside.

Down a white tiled corridor, the light from the massive windows on the other side of the house shining down on him, a puppy came running down on his big paws, his tail wagging so wildly his little bum moved with it.

“Hi.” Y/N cooed when he reached the window, standing on his back-paws to get a better look of her and bark some more. “Who’re you then? What’s your name?”

He sniffed the glass as if trying to get a sniff of her, but he whimpered when he couldn’t. And as Y/N got a good look of the little guy, she realised something very quickly that made her almost fall backward onto the gravel of the driveway. A Scottish deerhound.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Y/N said under her breath, walking back to the front door and ringing the doorbell again. Why was it that Harry had trouble answering the bloody door every time? She stood her ground this time, the puppy still barking at her and watching her in anticipation, ready to jump onto her the second Harry opened the door. But he didn’t. So this time she knocked on his door with her fist, not about to wait around for hours. She knew he was in. A puppy couldn’t be left alone in a big house like this, he’d either have to put him in a cage or take the pup with him.

With no response, Y/N decided to explore the outside of his house. Giving the pup a little wave, she stepped down from the front step, taking in the marble pillars on either side that held a small roof above the front door. The house was incredibly elegant and new. Had he built it himself? She walked around the side, admiring the huge garden and the tall stone fence that secluded it from everything else. There were a couple of trees that stood around a tiny pond, and it seemed he’d taken the time to put a grey stone bench beside it. The rest of the garden was newly trimmed and grand, though pretty empty still. There seemed to be the start of a pretty big doghouse beside another tree, and something else that might be the start of a veranda. Maybe he’d just about moved in. It would explain why everything looked so new, anyway.

It felt like Harry, though. All of it. Elegant yet simple, big but not too much. He was a simplistic person who loved grand things. The thought of him moving into a new house, probably a little anxious to meet new people and to get acquainted with his new life in a new town, it made her smile. He was restless and would move in a few years, but for now, this was exactly what he needed, she knew.

Faint, but Y/N still heard it with every single part of her being, a meow sounded from behind her. Turning around, there stood a striped cat looking over at her. She hesitantly moved forward and Y/N felt like breaking down crying.

“Viola,” Y/N hunched down. “Hi, baby.”

The cat made her way over quite hastily when she recognised who the person was, rubbing herself against Y/N’s outstretched hands. She’d grown, yet Y/N would know this little creature anywhere. She’d often wondered what happened to Viola, because when she left, she assumed Harry would take care of her till he left. But here she was. Had he brought her with him everywhere? She reached down, pressing a soft kiss to Viola’s forehead like she always did, and the cat meowed in response. Y/N giggled, the feel and sound of Viola brought her right back to her time in Fosdinovo. The cat had been there for her every single day, putting a smile on her face. They gave each other a home for a month.

Thinking she might explore more of the grounds, she stood upright, and Viola immediately perked up, ready to follow Y/N wherever she decided to go. Her eyes suddenly landed on a glass house attached to the mansion, and then on the figure standing by the open door leading into it. The inside of the winter garden was fully furnished, unlike the rest of the property that lacked the same attention. She couldn’t believe this. Not only was this Harry’s dream home, it was hers as well.

Their eyes met, and a jolt so intense rocked through Y/N’s body that it shook up everything. She fell in love with him all over again, seeing him there, looking right back at her with a look of startlement and longing and relief. She couldn’t wait any longer, she had to be close to him. Taking the first few steps, she felt the inside of her tummy vibrate as the butterflies inside her came to life again. The closer she got to him, the more every single part of her body tickled, itching to hold him again. And when it seemed to have dawned on Harry that this wasn’t a dream, he started walking toward her as well. The closer they got the more they picked up the pace. It had been too long, they had taken too much time, they had worked on each other for one another and for themselves.

Y/N threw herself into his chest and Harry wrapped his arms around her so tightly she was sure she’d fade into him. Though it had taken them so much to get to this moment, it had taken them a while for a reason. People needed to work on one another and for each other to make a relationship work, it didn’t just magically happen. And sometimes people need to be apart for a little while to gain perspective and mature enough to return. Harry needed someone who could be as open as him, and Y/N needed someone who wasn’t afraid to be himself to the fullest, without apology.

They broke apart, eager to look at one another again. Harry’s eyes moved over her frantically, taking her in again. He was wearing another silk shirt, tucked into high-waisted washed out denim jeans, and barefoot. Something about his bare feet was adorable. And the fact they were basically wearing the same jeans made her stifle a laughter.

“Hi,” she said, unsure how else to greet him.

He chuckled. “What the fuck, Y/N.”

“What?”

“You’re here.” He said, smiling at her. “I… I had no idea. But you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

He took her hand, squeezing it, looking her up and down. “Here.”

She smiled as well, feeling her hand heat up here his skin met hers. When he looked up at her again, eyes glistening, face lit up more than she’d ever seen before, dimples as deep as ever, she felt like tearing up. This was the man of her dreams; the man she wanted to spend every day with till death. And even after that she’d find him in their next life, or she’d find him in her afterlife, or wherever else they’d end up. There was no one else. Would never be anyone else.

“This is a big place.” She said, gesturing at the house and the rest of the estate.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, still looking at their joined hands. “Started building it back in March.”

“Big place for a big lad.”

Harry laughed, looking up at her again. “Need enough space for Viola and Gopher to wander.”

Y/N’s heart did a dreamy sigh. “Gopher?”

“Oh!” Harry pointed behind him at the house. “He was the one barking.”

“The puppy?”

“Yeah.”

She bit her lips together, looking down at their hands. “You adopted a puppy.”

Silence for a few moments before Harry said, in such a soft voice she swore it felt like a caress, “He’s been waiting for you.”

She glanced up again, happiness so overwhelming filled her to the point that she felt like flying. Eyes landed on the house and then back on Harry as he ran his thumb over her hand.

“Don’t you remember that day in the car last summer, when you first met Jamie?”

She didn’t at first, but it hit her like a truck and she almost gasped out loud. Harry only smiled a little at her, having remembered her words this whole time.

“A Scottish deerhound.”

“They’re quite big, aren’t they? Can’t remember how they look, but I think I know.” The phone was in Jamie’s hand, typing the name of the breed into the Google search bar.

“I’ve always wanted one. Always wanted to move to the outskirts of Maldon with two deerhounds. That’s where I want to settle down, I think.” She said. “With a winter garden and a big property so the dogs can run freely.”

She shook her head, not wanting to believe Harry had done this.

“Harry…”

“It’s not Maldon, or Essex, or England for that matter,” he said, stepping aside so she could look at the house. “But I tried to make it like you said, with some pieces of me in it, if that’s okay.”

The resemblance it held to the last painting of Harry’s exhibit was incredible, the same painting that had been stolen by Gioele. The painting Harry had an emotional attachment to of sorts. It was because it was this. It was the house. It was the place he hoped she’d settle down. With him.

“Wanna take a look inside?”

She smiled at him. “Please.”

He smiled back, letting go of her hand so they could walk into the winter garden. Viola followed them, strolling in through the door before Harry closed it. He took her into his arms and walked over to the door that led into the house, opening it and letting Viola walk away before closing the door again. They were left in silence, a few of the windows were open to let some air in or else the room would undoubtedly get incredibly hot with the sun shining right in. The roof was shaped like a spire, the whole glasshouse a half-circle, and green plants lined the window wall. Vines hung gracefully along some of the stiles, and in the middle of it all stood a big blue velvet ottoman. The whole place had a gothic feel to it and Y/N absolutely adored it. When she’d pictured a winter garden, she’d just wanted a place she could relax outdoors during wintertime, but this was something else entirely. It had a Harry feel to it, but it also felt like her.

“What do you think?” Harry asked, leaning his back against the windows.

“It’s amazing.” She mused, looking around. “Harry… I’m speechless.”

“Tried to make it into something that I knew you’d like. That’s why I painted it first and had an architect sketch the outline of the house after.” Harry explained. “Hope it falls into liking.”

She looked over at him, for the first time in ages, seeing the hint of doubt in his eyes again. Simply not able to help herself, she walked over to him, hesitating a bit before placing a hand to his cheek. He leaned into her, closing his eyes for a second and letting a sigh of relaxation leave his lips.

“I love it, I haven’t even seen the inside of the house, but I love it.” She told him, studying his dark eyelashes against his cheekbones. “And I love you.”

Harry’s eyes shot open, looking straight into hers. The absolute joy in them made the colour of his irises more radiant, and it was almost as if the sun shone a little brighter. As if the world fell into place; like how it was supposed to be all along.

“I love you.” She repeated, softer this time around.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice sounded like a whisper; a plea for her to really, really, really feel it – what was between them – like he did.

“I’m in love with you, Harry.”

He grabbed the back of her neck, swallowing hard. “I love you, too.”

She couldn’t help it when the sides of her mouth tipped upward. “I know.”

Harry smiled. “Smug bastard.”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp tenderly. God, it felt good to have him touch her again. It felt good to be close to him. It felt good to not be ashamed of saying ‘I love you’. It felt amazing to let someone else know how deeply you cared for them and see them light up in response because they felt the same way.

“Now fucking kiss me before I go out of my mind.” Harry said, an undertone to his voice that made a hot tingle run up Y/N’s spine.

“How about you kiss me?”

Harry frowned.

“After all, if I hadn’t kissed you in the ocean that night, would we even be here?”

“You take pride in that, don’t you? I would’ve kissed you eventually.” Harry said, and Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. “I would’ve!”

“Yeah, alright. When? The opportunity presented itself a couple of times, but you only had the nerve to kiss my hand.”

Harry gripped her hair hard in his hand, bringing her lips to hover above his. She gasped, looking down at his lips and then feeling it against her thigh. Very quickly, she felt hot all over, and the need to be closer to Harry grew so fast it made her dizzy.

“Got the nerve to fuck you good now, don’t I?” Harry said, voice so deep she felt it vibrate through her bones.

Y/N bit her lip. “What gentleman talks like that to a lady before he’s even kissed her for the first time in a year?”

“You want a gentleman?”

She ran her hands down his torso. “Depends on the situation.”

Harry kissed her jaw, leaving wet kisses down her neck. “Hmm, does it now?”

“Want a gentleman to walk the little puppy with, to make breakfast with, or to take me out for dates.”

“Do you want a gentleman between your thighs, baby?”

She closed her eyes at the feel of Harry’s lips on her, bit her bottom lip as he pressed her body closer to his. “Depends on how well that gentleman knows how to treat a lady.”

Harry chuckled, the feeling of his laughter against her skin was like heaven. “I’ll be a gentleman, the devil, an angel; I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

She huffed. “Thought we were doing dirty talk, and here you go turning it romantic.”

“I need you to shut up,” Harry said as his lips hovered above hers. “Because I’m about to kiss you and then fuck you on that sofa.”

She grinned, tilting her head to fit perfectly against his. “Kiss me.”

And he did. Hard and passionately. They wasted no time, slipping their tongue into one another’s mouths, clinging to one another, touching all over. They tasted the other, felt them right there. There were some birds singing outside, rustling of some leaves, but the two of them didn’t care. Harry pushed her backward till her legs hit the couch, but she stopped herself from falling back into it. Instead, she turned them around, pushing Harry back onto the ottoman.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” She said, and Harry let out a shaky breath at her words.

He quickly undid the buttons of his silk shirt, threw it somewhere behind him before he leaned on his elbows. “Nothing you’ve ever said has turned me on more.”

She giggled, taking her jeans and knickers off and straddling his lap. He sat up, attaching his lips to hers once again, grabbing onto her bum, begging her to grind against him. They both wanted some friction, and she knew that if he pressed her harder onto him, there would be wet marks from her left on his jeans. But in the moment, neither cared. They just wanted to be as close as humans could be, wanted to feel ecstasy. She buried her hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, and the heat between her thighs got more and more intense the more time went on. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through her as she felt Harry’s hand run up her back, reaching for her bra. He wanted to see all of her.

She let him, throwing her shirt off and letting her bra fall to the floor. Harry kissed her the second she was done undressing, moaning her name against her lips. She felt her centre ache, reaching for the zip of Harry’s jeans as quickly as possible. She couldn’t bare it any longer, she needed to be skin to skin; soul to soul. Y/N found that the people she had sex with, she formed an emotional attachment to them in a way that was unexplainable. There might not even be real feelings there, but you’d shared an intimate moment with someone, and it was a moment neither of you would ever forget. But with Harry, it was more than that. It wasn’t just a single moment she shared with him when they were like this; it felt like sharing an entire lifetime. It felt like happiness; it felt like the rest of her life. And she knew she was right to have spent time away from him, because she would tell him this over and over and over again, and she wouldn’t be ashamed or feel weak for admitting how much she loved him.

They got Harry’s jeans and boxers off, and as she took a grip of his cock, Harry stiffened. Their eyes met.

“A condom.” He said, reminding her what they were about to do.

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Harry gripped her thigh, squeezing her.

“You pay for the pill.”

He smiled, kissing her for a long time. “Fuck me, please.”

Slowly, she sat down on him, gasping at the familiar feeling of him inside her like this. Harry didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time, mouth opening wider for each centimetre he moved inside her. Positioning her feet on the floor, she started moving her hips over him. He instantly moaned, not able to help himself because it felt so good. He moved his hands up her thighs, her sides, her back, wanting to feel every single little part of her. Wanted her to know how much he appreciated every little thing about her. There wasn’t a single part of her body, of her soul, of her existence he didn’t love. She felt all his emotions in his touches, in the kisses he left along her collarbone, in the soft way he moaned her name.

She tried to push him down onto the ottoman, wanting to have him watch her as she rode him, but Harry stopped her. He shook his head, curls tickling her jawline and cheek.

“No,” he simply said, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m staying right here.”

And though he hadn’t meant it that way, Y/N still took it as him telling her he’d stay with her like this forever. After all, she’d been the one to leave him in the first place, but they were here now. Never was she going to leave him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, the truest thing in her life, and her best influence. Had she ever been happy before she’d met him? Had she known true happiness till now? Because right now, feeling Harry’s bare skin against hers and hearing him repeat her name, she wasn’t so sure the happiness she’d felt before him could be counted as just that, happiness.

Harry squeezed her hips. “Like that,” he moaned, burying his face in the cook of her neck.

Nothing mattered besides the magic they were creating between them; nothing mattered but Harry and eternity. The soft skin of the inside of Y/N’s thighs against Harry’s hips and sides, pressed to him, sweaty. His tattooed body against her bare one. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

The burn in her core was really starting to build up now, and she knew it would burst any second. Harry moved his face so it was right in front of hers, studying her moving form above him. Her sliding hips, her desperate hands, her exclamations of pleasure. The butterflies in her stomach went crazy, all of them flying wildly in a single circle to intensify the oncoming orgasm. Harry’s hips moved more with hers, staring at her as she closed her eyes, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Harry said, hands trembling against her back.

She didn’t know why that almost brought her to tears, but it did, and she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. No one had ever made her feel as stunning as Harry. Though she was confident in her body and on her own, being with Harry made her feel on top of the world. His love, his encouragement, his compliments, it all made her feel so incredibly good about herself in a way nothing ever had before. She had no idea how she could ever thank him for that.

Their hips moved rhythmically, hard against one another, desperate for release. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. Y/N wanted to melt into him and have the two of them sitting like this forever. Wanted to feel him close, feel his love, feel his skin. Having him inside her like this, feeling him grip her hard, whimpering against her lips, moan her name; she felt powerful, beautiful, strong, and so so so good.

“Harry,” she moaned, looking into his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He said, bringing her closer. He reached between them, knowing that in order to come properly, she needed him to flick her bud. “Let me watch you come.”

“Oh, God.” She gripped his shoulders harder, moaning loudly as he rubbed her clit like he knew she loved so much.

“Yeah?” He watched her, flicking her faster. “Come for me, baby.”

She came hard. Harry watched her intently, clearly holding back his own release till he knew she was completely done with hers. She grinded on top of him, looking deeply into her eyes as hot flames lashed threw her body, rocking up her entire reality. She gasped for breath and moaned and repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it let like it was the only word she knew. Her legs were shaking, and it was hard for her to move properly so he could come to.

“Say it.” Harry said, his neck vein about to show and his face reddening with the oncoming climax. “Tell me.”

She knew exactly what he needed to hear. “I love you.” She whispered against his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his lips as she continued to rock over him. “Everyday, for the rest of my existence, I’ll love you.”

“Fuck.” Harry moaned, not able to look away from her. “Y/N. My love.”

She held his face in her hands. “Never leave me. I love you too much.”

“Never.” Harry said, a moan escaping his lips. “Shit.”

He came, not looking away from her. A furrow appearing between his brows, lips parted, and Y/N had never seen anything so hot and beautiful. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. She watched him till he came down, feeling his cum inside her, feeling his breathing against her, his arms around her.

“You need to go meet Gopher now.” Harry said after a little while.

“My puppy.”

Harry laughed. “We’re gonna have a house filled with fucking animals, aren’t we?”

“And what about it?” Y/N smiled. “Don’t you want to see me happy?”

Harry’s eyes softened, smiling slightly up at her as he took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, then her palm, then the pulse of her wrist. “For the rest of my life, celeste.” His smile widened as he felt her beating hearts against his lips. “My baby blue.”

the BIGGEST thank you to all my beta readers! you lot have saved me and helped me more times than i can count! love you!

@aileenacoustic @sunflowervolumeeleven @emotionally-imbruised @fromyourstrulyh @harryisadogperson @harrysthighles @mellowstyles94 @toolazymyguy @clorenafila @dearest-rebecca @tpwkceline @tasteslikestrawberriesharry​

and thank you to you! thank you for reading baby blue! thank you for the love sent both mine and bb’s way! thank you for letting me tell you yet another story, the fact that you sit down each sunday (or whichever day tbh) to read bb and immerse yourself in the bb-verse means so much to me!

as for what i’m gonna do next cos i’ve gotten quite a few questions about that! i won’t be posting writing on tumblr or wattpad till may, but in the meantime i’ll be over at patreon posting! there’ll be a poll there where some of my patrons can vote for what they want me to write next and i’ll post something every week!

my next fic will be announced sometime in april (tho i’ve talked about what it’s gonna be multiple times lmao), and the first few chapters will be available to read on my patreon before it starts posting on my other platforms!

ANYWAY, i love you all so much! thank you again! bb!harry and bb!mc appreciate you very much, as do i :’’)

thank you so much. till next time, stay hydrated.

your bestie, nora x

[shi-daisy]

Snowed In

Well this it folks, my last Ulquihime Week entry for this year. As always it's been a joy to participate and see everything that all of the other users have created, and that those who host the event take such care to plan our ship week. I had a blast and I'm looking forward to doing this again next year. Till then however, let's all keep on making content for our otp!

Ok so onto the story, today's theme is Winter/Warmth and I really didn't know what to do, until I remembered I have a whole AU I could use and stuck with that. For those who haven't read my entries from previous years the Reunion AU basically had Ulquiorra and Orihime meet again after a few years, Orihime ran off from her wedding with Ichigo and Ulquiorra is now human(along with the other Arrancar). At this point in the time the two have been dating for a month. Hope you like!

@ulquihimeweek

Ulquihime Week- Day 6: Winter/Warmth

Snowed In

"For the last time Tia, I'll ask her but that dosen't mean she'll say yes." Ulquiorra repeated over the phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

His friends had all told him to invite Orihime over for Christmas dinner, and while he wasn't too keen on the holiday he knew his woman was. This would be the first time he would be asking her to spend an event with him and his 'family' and while he might deny it, Ulquiorra was nervous.

"Schiffer, of course she'll say yes. That girl is quite taken with you."

"I'd like to think so, but still, don't be disappointed if she declines."

"Yes, yes, I am ready to accept a negative answer. Still, I wanted some civilized company this year."

He could tell she directed her angry tone at Nnoitra. From over the phone Ulquiorra could hear them bickering.

"If ya don't want me to eat the cookies. Don't leave em on the table!"

"Those were freshly baked! How are you not burned?!"

"Cuz I still have Arrancar-like skin."

"Fool! Your hands are red! I have to go Ulquiorra. Our gigantic toddler has injured himself again."

"No surprise there. I shall see you later."

He arrived at the cafe soon after his call ended, yet he knew things weren't right. Orihime usually waited for him outside, but despite the closed sign in the door, she was nowhere to be seen. Ulquiorra rushed into the cafe, immediately upon entering he heard a loud noise.

"I know language was never your best subject but I think the sign on the door was pretty easy to read Kurosaki!"

"Inoue, just let me explain everything."

"I told you to fuck off!" Orihime angrily took off her arpon and walked away. Ulquiorra headed towards her. The second she saw him, her anger subsided.

He dared to look at Kurosaki. The redhead was no longer the headstrong teen he had met six years ago. His hair was shorter, and while he's grown taller, Ulquiorra thought he looked less intimidating.

"How- How are you here? You died."

"I got better." Ulquiorra answered sarcastically. "Now, I believe you heard the woman. She's not interested in speaking to you."

Ichigo didn't seem keen on backing down, his surprised stare turned into a glare. "You don't get to decide for her anymore, Ulquiorra."

"Oh just shut up already, Ichigo! I don't owe you shit! Tatsuki picked up my stuff a while ago, I've kept away from you and your kin, and paid back what I owed to you father. Aside from those unresolved matters we have nothing else to talk about!"

"I think leaving one's own wedding and then vanishing for two months is something to talk about! You never gave me an explanation for that."

He'd never seen Orihime so enraged, her pale face turned red and she was clenching her fist so hard her arms shook. "You want an explanation?! Fine! I left because just as I was going to get Kenpachi-san to walk me to the altar, I found you and Kuchiki-San! Then you kissed her! When we were young I thought you were in love with her, but since you proposed to me and made me feel as if I was the one you wanted, my worries faded. Imagine how I felt at that moment! I gave up NASA for you, scholarships, internships, my own damn college ambitions all went down the drain! All because I wanted to be with you, and look where the fuck that got me!

So there's your bloody explanation! Now scram!"

There was a small moment of silence before Kurosaki left. The second he was out the door, Ulquiorra hugged Orihime close. "Let it out."

Orihime didn't want to cry over it anymore, but her body betrayed her. She shook as she cried, her sobs echoed in the small cafe and the only solace she could find was the warmth Ulquiorra's hug provided.

As he held onto her, Ulquiorra checked an alert on his phone. There was a snow storm coming to Naruki.

"Woman, it's likely we won't be able to reach your apartment in time. Would you like to accompany me home?"

Orihime stopped crying after hearing that. "Yes. I'd love to go with you."

"Good, I've sent a message to Szayel, he should be coming to pick us up before the storm gets worse."

"Okay."

Orihime stared at Ulquiorra's face for a moment. When she first saw him again after all these years he looked just as he did the day he turned to ash under her touch. Now, he seemed so different. His hair was longer and styled, he often wore leather and dark make up, and even facial jewelery. She also noticed he began doing those things when the two began dating. Maybe it was an effort to become more human like for her.

"Ulqui, are you sure it's okay for me to come home with you? I don't want to bother the others."

"It's no bother, they were all hoping to see you again." Ulquiorra cleared his throat, as he often did when he was nervous. "Actually they were insistent that I brought you home for Christmas celebrations next week."

She blushed. "Really? I'd love to go! Spending Christmas alone is not much fun. I would be happy to spend it with your family."

He sighed in relief. "I'm glad."

"You sound nervous, did you think I'd decline?"

"Well, yes. But that's not why I was nerveous. It's just the others can be quite a handful. I don't want them to overwhelm you."

"I'll be fine, I love hyper groups of people. Besides you and I can have some alone time later."

"That I won't mind."

Szayel arrived at the cafe slightly later than expected. The sky was already darkening, and the road was icy. He drove slowly but made sure to calculate the time properly.

"Inoue-san, I hope you don't mind, Halibel has prepared a room for you, along with clothes. It's likely the snowstorm will keep you from going home tonight, perhaps even longer."

"That's fine. Thanks for telling me Szayel. I'll be sure to not cause any trouble."

"Oh sweetie it's no trouble at all, we are all looking forward to having you around. Ulquiorra has told us so much about you!"

Ulquiorra, Who had been dozing off in the front seat, was now wide awake and glaring at Szayel.

Orihime laughed at the scene before her. "Does he? What has he told you?"

"That he enjoys speaking to you, and that you have a lovely aura, and that you look very pretty in a sundress."

By now Ulquiorra was a blushing mess, he hid his face under the hoodie of his coat, but Orihime has already seen it. She smiled and blew a kiss in his direction. "Well I think he looks good in black clothes."

Ulquiorra caught the hint. Black was what he always wore, meaning Orihime always found him to be cute. He smiled, this time without covering his blush.

***

Her arrival had been met with hugs, greetings, an enthusiastic snuggle from the family's pet.

"Kukkapuro's no stranger to cuddling new people. He won't leave you alone for the rest of the night." Stark drowsily told her as he tried to get Kukkapuro to move. The hollow puppy ignored him.

"That's okay, Stark-san. I don't mind."

The sleepy man nodded and went back to his favorite spot, on the lap of his boyfriend. Szayel rolled his eyes and let him sleep.

She smiled at the scene, it reminded her of the times she'd act overly affectionate and Ulquiorra would be either unimpressed or dead quiet. Strangely enough she didn't mind.

"Orihime! Can you come to the kitchen? I need your help!"

She followed Halibel's voice to the kitchen. The older women had baked a new batch of cookies and wanted her opinion.

"You're the star baker after all." She told her.

The woman's tone was so sweet Orihime couldn't bear to tell her she hadn't finished culinary school.

She took a bite, savoring the sweet yet salty ginger cookie. "These are great! You're an incredible baker, Halibel-san."

"Thank you, it means a lot coming from a professional. There is something I'd like your help with."

"Anything."

***

"Are you going to chose a movie already?!"

Ulquiorra glared at Nnoitra, who had probably been banned from the kitchen.

"I am not choosing anything until the girls come back with the food. Have some patience Jiruga!"

"I am plenty patient!"

"I agree with Ulquiorra, you have a short fuse. Now be quiet." Szayel snapped.

"Tch. If I'd know you were going to be so moody I would've spent the week with Tesla and Cyan."

"Tesla might've been your fracción but I think even he knows you shouldn't be around a newborn." Stark mumbled in his drowsy state.

Ulquiorra chuckled, as he remembered the little bundle Cyan had given birth to a week ago. He didn't consider himself the baby type but that had been disproven the moment he was allowed to carry the tiny child.

"Maybe you and Inoue will produce a cute baby one day."

Ulquiorra almost fell off the sofa. "Nnoitra if you don't shut up I will disembowel you!"

Szayel shushed them both and pointed down to a sleeping Stark, but by then it was too late. The pair began bickering and Kukkapuro howled along.

***

"See? It's always like this. Can't get some quiet until bedtime."

"Don't worry. This'll warm them up!"

The girls walked out of the kitchen with cookies and hot chocolate. "Settle down! We're here with the treats! Ulquiorra you can pick a movie if you'd like."

He nodded and began browsing. Orihime gave everyone a cup of chocolate and cookies. Once her boyfriend had picked a movie, she sat down with him and their treats.

It didn't take long for the others to fall asleep. According to Ulquiorra this was a common occurrence. 'They'll be asleep before the second act ends.'

The couple was snuggling together covered by a thick blanket, they had finished their sweets and once the movie ended they would be going to bed.

"Hey Ulqui."

"Yes, love?"

"Thanks for tonight. I don't know how badly things would've gotten if I hadn't come with you."

Seeing Ichigo had soured her day greatly, and walking home alone in the freezing cold to cry herself to sleep would've been twice as hellish. Thankfully her boyfriend was there to dry her tears and make her smile again.

"You're welcome woman. I shall always be here for you, so whenever you feel like the world is falling apart remember to lean on me. It is now my eternal duty to keep you smiling."

She giggled and nuzzled close to him. "Thanks Ulqui. You're really sweet." The beating of his heart was lulling her to sleep, but Orihime resisted, she wanted to see the end of the movie. "I have to repay you one day for all the kindness you've given me. Feels like I'm only taking."

"No, you're mistaken. It is I who's repaying a debt to you. Back when I was a hollow you brought joy into my life again, and since then I've thought that one lifetime won't be enough to repay you."

"Then you better be with me in every other lifetime."

He wouldn't refuse such a request. Ulquiorra looked down at Orihime, their gazes met and he knew this was the perfect moment to do as he had planned for so long. He leaned down to press his lips against hers, a soft kiss which caused them both to blush. They both tasted of chocolate and ginger cookies, still it was perfect.

"I love you." He whispered only for her.

Orihime caressed his cheek and smiled. "I love you too."

They stayed like that for the rest of the night, tangled in a warm embrace as the snow continued to fall outside.

[crystalliccs]

                  ABOUT G’RAHAS ‘AWAKENING’ AT THE END OF PATCH 5.3                              __________________________________ 

Introduction.

The mentioned scenario down below is how I’ll personally headcanon everything related to G’raha’s awakening. While I do not specify the Warrior of Light for this (and that part can still be slightly altered), the core of it will remain the same for everyone. I am not active on Twitter, check Tumblr-tags regularly or read many Fanfiction; but from what I have seen so far this interpretation down below differs to the general concept of what had happened during the timeskip. Which is exactly why I want to specify and mention this as meta/canon for this blog unless Square Enix will specify the events at a later point.

I will add some side information of why I believe this scenario to be the most realistic one overall – and why I think it fits better than the general concept. This of course, by no means, means that I think everyone’s else perspective is bad in any way, I’ll just not follow it for my G’raha. That’s all.

Feel free to use this information – particularly if you are roleplaying a Warrior of Light – for roleplays! It’s always nice to see that people actually read my headcanons.

The Core of my Meta: - G’raha of the Source woke up the moment the Warrior of Light opened the Dossal Gate, he was NOT sleeping when the Warrior of Light first found him again inside the Umbilicus - G’raha was given the choice to merge with his other self while he was awake and NOT in a unconsciousness/sleeping state which means he has willingly accepted it

Now to my explanations. The fandom’s general perspective is that he was slumbering inside the Syrcus Tower and then awakened by the Warrior of Light – which is definitely, let’s say, a very romantic kind of perspective which I adore as someone who heavily ships them with him. However, as sweet as this seems to be, it would contradict some scenarios we have already experienced in the game’s canon. Secondly, it always kind of rubbed me wrong to think that – like Beq Lugg had stated – merely the source’s G’raha’s soul recognized the Crystal Exarch’s memories and parts of his soul as his own.

To me it always felt wrong to burden the Source G’raha without giving him this choice – though his soul might recognize the other, I always felt his consciousness might take damage from it nonetheless; perchance knowing deep inside – hence the quick merge – of them being one, but not accepting it quickly enough. Consider that with the merge he suddenly had to bear the memories of an entire being – even if that one was himself – who had lived over one hundred years. Who has seen many unspeakable things. And although I headcanon my G’raha to be no stranger to the concept of sudden death due to his tribe’s origin, it will be a lot to swallow at once.

The G’raha we see in the final scene of the ‘party’, how I like to call it, seems to get along just fine – in fact he even states as much. And yet he mentioned something about the memories of the First – which work just fine for him, to say as much – which kind of made me ponder of how the merging truly happened. To me it simply feels very weird to see G’raha awakening as half the Crystal Exarch at him without having had the chance to accept this new circumstance; without being able to state his own opinion. Even the last short story published by Square Enix he was still given a choice – they asked him if he truly wants to be send to the First.

G’raha always had a choice.

From the moment of sealing himself away to being send to the First. He could always have went another way. Now, at the peak of his character arc – his redemption arc how I like to call it – he needs to be given such a choice as well. A choice he makes while he’s awake, not while he is sleeping. Saying as much, I consider it somewhat odd to think that he was not given such a choice this time. Which means he should be awake when he decides to accept the Crystal Exarch as himself, just by logic.

Some might say now – well, in that case he could still be asleep when the Warrior of Light arrives and be woken up by them personally and then asked whether he wants to merge or not. This is of course true, but now let’s get to my second point. The point of why I believe that G’raha was already awake when the Warrior of Light found him.

The most prominent examples would be Amon, Xande and even Unei and Doga – all of those awoke again once the entire Crystal Tower complex was awakened. No one had entered the Crystal Tower yet as well; it was the activity and the Tower’s appearance after the Calamity which made them to wake up. We can easily assume that G’raha used similar means to slumber inside the Tower; and I believe that anyone entering the Tower would result in his almost instantaneous awakening. Yes, we see the Dossal Gate closing behind the Warrior of Light again, but this might just be a defensive mechanism and not even related to its caretaker’s current condition. If any kind of activation worked for Xande, it might as well work for him as well. In the very end, it would also make very little sense if – let’s say – an intruder entered who could just straight murder his own caretaker silently.

Now some might even say again that the Warrior of Light carried the Crystal Exarch’s blood, hence the Gate recognized the Warrior of Light as him and opened for them. However, even in this case, I believe it’s unlikely that the activation of the Crystal Tower didn’t take place when it clearly did by opening up. Thus, in my humble opinion, it does not even matter. Which the Warrior of Light opening the Gate, the currently slumbering G’raha would awake by the sudden activation of the Tower.

Another important thing I want to add now is to give an idea how much time passed until the Warrior of Light finds him. I personally headcanon G’raha to be slumbering inside the Umbilicus, which is the heart of the Tower as we know from the main scenario quest. We also know, thanks to the many cutscenes in the Tower and brief mentioning, that the way to the Ocular involves many stairs and might take some time – and for those who are not used to find their way, they might even get lost. Suffice to say, the Warrior of Light can not magically reach him within just a minute. It is truly had to estimate how long it takes, but I believe about three to five minutes might be realistic here. Ultimately I also think that the Warrior of Light has a very good idea where to find him, after so many visits to the Ocular in the First and knowing of its importance – let alone the fact that the Warrior of Light themselves had conquered the place thus knowing its inside quite well already.

Which means that G’raha has a few minutes to himself – slowly coming to senses, not knowing how long he has even slept. Due to this not knowing much – and I personally headcanon the slumbering process to also affect his own body at least for a few minutes even with this advanced technology – he merely remained where he was. He had no way of knowing who he would met; and once he sees the Warrior of Light entering, he will be confused. Confused, because he knew that it was impossible – though he truly believed in his friend’s genius – to awaken him as quickly. In fact, and I’ve mentioned as much in my headcanons and drabbles already, he had always expected to awaken decades, centuries later if ever. He was prepared to die by never awakening in the first place.

Suffice to say, this moment alone will be awkward – and the atmosphere be even quite dramatic by seeing the facial expressions of the Warrior of Light after seeing him. This part can of course be altered to other people’s personal interpretations, but to me it makes the most sense (and I consider this canon for my own characters), that they all looked at him in full disbelief. That they were relieved and at the same time hurt – seeing him alive and well again, just like he had promised, but at the same time knowing this is not truly ‘him’ just yet. G’raha is – despite being an eccentric who had, according to my personal headcanon very few friendships over the course of his life – not dense. Of course not, he’s an Archon and one of the most brilliant minds. He’ll notice, and he’ll ask.

He will ask why the Warrior of Light is looking at him in such a way – because to him it still feels like less than a day when he had last seen them. And, of course, he would like to know how they managed to wake him up so quickly, already catching that just very little time could have passed since he had sealed himself away.

And I feel at this point the Warrior of Light will need to briefly explain it to him – despite G’raha still being somewhat fatigued, although it is not as bad as it is for the Scions who were separated from their bodies completely. It won’t be an easy task, this is true – but one which G’raha deserves to know and I believe it is part of the Warrior of Light’s promise to the Exarch himself. At the end of the explanation he will be given the choice to merge with his other self.

A choice given not by the Warrior of Light who is merely the messenger of such – but as final plea of the dead Crystal Exarch, the G’raha Tia of another timeline.

Of course such revelation is hard to swallow at first – and also most certainly not what G’raha would have expected to find in the moments of his awakening. But it is a given choice, this as much he understands. And truthfully, he had already accepted the moment he fell into the slumber he would accept any given fate from this point on. Whether it was to die or to live.

In my personal headcanon I imagine that G’raha also noticed that the Warrior of Light indeed wants to see his other self again – for whatever reason this might be – which makes the choice ultimately just much easier. It is not only for the one oath he had sworn to himself, but also for his friend and for everyone else who seemed to believe in his other self that he is more than willing to accept his soul as his own.

And this is how he merged with the Soul Vessel of the Exarch – inside the Umbilicius while the Warrior of Light is present.

It will not be visible – similar to the moment when Unei and Doga lend him his blood – but once the process is done and the empty soul vessel’s light silently grows dim, he’ll open his eyes again and be more than just the G’raha of the Source.

And his words will be: I am finally home.

[amaurotinedream]

I’ve started writing up all my thoughts on the Lightwardens and there’s a lot. 

Sorry, not sorry? 

Big spoilers under the cut.

While playing through the game, I began to notice the Lightwardens were named after some of the seven types of love according to the ancient Greeks.

Philia, Eros, and Storge.

Unnamed are Philautia, Pragma, Ludus, and Agape.

At first I connected a corrupted Philautia to Vauthry/Innocence, and Pragma to Titania, with Emet-Selch as Ludus, and finally the WoL being Agape. But after a few days of contemplation and replaying some of the MSQ through Unending Journey I think maybe I've stumbled upon something else.

Philia, the brotherly love of friends and platonic bonding through rough times, is the first Lightwarden we defeat. This on the heels of Tesleen's tragedy, and the burden Alisaie carries of promises to help those left behind, both on the First, and the Source.

Pragma is next I think. I believe Titania is meant to be a stand in for the love connected with rational and reason. It is not a romantic love, but a love that provides benefits for those involved. Before her transformation, Titania cared for her subjects as they cared for her. This is also where we meet Urianger for the first time since leaving the Source. An Elezen who hides from intimate friendships and closeness with the WoL and other Scions, keeping secrets and preferring to do things alone, because he knows they must be done, rather than telling us hard truths up front. Because to him, this is the most reasonable course of action.

Following is Eros. Romantic, passionate, and sexual love. The setting is in the Great Rak'tika Wood with, what in my opinion is, a very fitting music theme. We meet "The Night's Blessed," we find Y'shtola. We see Emet-Selch's first true act of good faith since joining us. I find it maybe too coincidental that this is the only instance of nudity during 5.0. Then the way Runar cradles Y'shtola...

Storge is a familial love. I don't think I need to make much of a case here, as this happens in the exact thick of the plot between Thancred, Ryne, and Ran'jit. 

Philautia is self-love. I believe Vauthy/Innocence is a corruption of this. Narcissism and the belief that what he is doing for himself will ultimately be the best for everyone. Vauthry is the opposite of Alphinaud's journey to become the best version of himself. We see Alphinaud recognize and admit how he was very much like Vauthry before he "grew up" and decided to strive to become better for both himself and everyone he hoped to save.

Ludus has had several meanings, but among them are "playful," "game," and "sport." Ludic love is selfish, demands attention, and can lead to secrets and lies, especially if one believes there are advantages to be gained from it. In my opinion this applies to two men. Emet-Selch, and G'raha Tia/Crystal Exarch. 

Exarch is very honest in his desire to adventure with the WoL, but is also quite closed off about who he is, what his plans are, and how he means to achieve them until very close to the end. He calls WoL his inspiration, laments over not being able to spend more time with them, but purposely has Urianger lie to suit his own ends. Yes, these ends are for the good of WoL and the Source, but secrecy is secrecy. 

Emet-Selch, while never lying to the WoL, keeps a lot of secrets until very close to the end too. A self-admitted manipulator, Emet-Selch is open to a point, but only if it serves his greater purpose. From one of the earliest 5.0 scenes, we see him looking at the developing situations almost as a game. "There's more than one way." Whether his feelings towards WoL change over the course of the story or not, his end game doesn't change. He wants his world back and everything can burn if he gets it. I'd also point out that this man demands attention, almost all the time. Oh sure he'll tell you not to bother him, but he's just oh so ready to talk every time you pop up. 

*****Ludus will be expanded in another post when I’m less tired. There’s so much to say about G’raha Tia and Emet-Selch*****

And then, finally, we have Agape. It's easy to place this on WoL. A selfless, altruistic love. Unbreakable. Unconditional. Committed. The WoL, like Agape, is undying, full of compassion, and always ready to give more than receive. But so, as we find through the story, was WoD. No small surprise that we are pieces of the same soul. Not without faults, Agapic lovers can be taken advantage of, and risk suffering inattention to their own needs. Think of how long our WoL was willing to carry the burden of Light. How willing the WoD was to martyr himself along with the others for Minfilia's efforts to stop the flood. 

It’s also very interesting to me that the Lightwardens are named after types of love when the Sin Eaters are literally named Forgiven, because what is the greatest love if not forgiveness?

There's probably more. But. These are my thoughts, and I hope maybe you've enjoyed them. 

[twitchesandstitches]

when in doubt, craft something

Upon the horizon, the sky was twisting and churning with unnatural colors oozing out of the veil between the realms of imagination, magic and the spirits, and the boundary of the world that the adventurers knew. Sometimes those colors flashed by like lightning, sudden and violent. The sky changed behind it, just as violently. And sometimes it was slow, like the uncomfortable sense that something in the world had gone wrong.

It marked a point where the edge of the world was just that: an edge, a point where physical laws, shaped matter and the primacy of the elements no longer held sway. Past that point, things... dissolved. And past that...

Well, Chopstop mused as she filed down the bore of a two-handed automatic cannon. That was were other things came out. There were the spirits of the other world, who were not inherently malicious: not even spirits of pain or loss. They were not cruel, they simply did what was in their nature to do.

But then, Chopstop thought as the skull of a dead demon leered by her side, hateful even in death. There were other things that could find a way through. You could negotiate with spirits, and it was a moral duty to appease them. But demons just wanted to kill everything.

It was certainly giving the predators in the party plenty to eat. Chopstop turned towards Tia, who was sitting beside her and apparently whittling something. She’d digested that demon, of course, and coughed up the skull. That was unusual; she very rarely digested anything. At most she ate things and while they were gone, for a while, they’d pop up later. Maybe spit out as magical ammunition or reforming, and if they WERE digested, it was essentailly ‘borrowing’ their physical bodies into her mass, while their souls went off somewhere inside her. She’d heard it described as the ‘Gut Zone’, or the ‘Butt Zone’, depending on what part of Tia started wobbling as if there really were people in there.

She’d been in there herself. She remembered seeing a vast city, of black flesh shaped into a facsimile of wobbling pseudo-stone, extending on larger than the observable world. She didn’t know if it was a physical place within Tia, some sort of abstract dream-world. Maybe it was both.

But actually being digested by her was atypical. She just seemed naturally suited to fighting things as destructive and mean as demons.

“Whatcha working on, there?” Chopstop asked.

Tia held her work aloft for inspection. Chopstop leaning in to inspect it, and Tia’s gaze briefly flicked towards Chopstop’s abundant, teeming cleavage. Her expression didn’t change, though. Simply helpless to at least notice dark green boobs of the perfect size and shape.

They both refocused. In Tia’s hands, proffered to Chopstop, it looked something like a staff. It was unfinished, and clearly magical; one end of it was apparently dissolving into raw magical energies, or at least that part of it was unfinished. She needed to put more into it, to finish giving it shape. The whole thing was a faint blue color, glassy crystal webbed with dark stone or perhaps iron. Calling it a ‘staff’ was perhaps a bit too vague, it was more like a thick pillar that happened to be the right shape for Tia’s hands to be swung like a staff.

It also looked like a bunch of arms, all wound together. Multiple arms bound together, twisting together and their fingers interlacing like a gesture of companionship.

Tia took a free hand and put it along the staff, pumping more magical energy into it; she huffed and grimaced with both physical strain and creative exhaustion. More magic gushed out of her and into it, and her hand shaped it, first with a gentle modulating wave, and then striking it, hammering substance that was suddenly physical into shape. She did this, over and over, until a short handle appeared from it.

“Kind of looks like a big tonfa now,” Chopstop observed.

Tia beamed. “Yeah! I can swings it at things, y’know?”

Chopstop watched as Tia continued to work at it. Hammering it into shape, making it elongate more and more. She began to realize something; she’d known Tia for a long time, since she was a young artificer hanging out with Tia’s daughter Nevnir, and then throughout much of her professional life. She’d slept with Tia for the last few years of her life, vowed to follow her clan’s path in battle and warfare. Her own immediate ancestors had been among those who had followed her, at the beginning of the Horde’s lifetime. She was planning to marry her. But now she realized that when it came to the fine details of her, she knew very little about her.

“So what are you making this for?” Chopstop asked. She winced as Tia panted with exhaustion. “You don’t... look very good.”

“Hrm, it is being fine. I gets... it’s lots of work, making magic thingies.” Tia shrugged, with a magnificent wobble to her enormous breasts. “But is important.”

“Why’s that?”

“So’s I don’t lose neat powers.”

“...I’m sorry?”

Tia held onto the staff, and she resonated with its power; something distinct and part from her, Chopstop realized. Tia’s power template shifted, and then, the nature of that power activated: magical energy solidified around her, thickening and taking on new shape, and fully resolved into the shape of six additional arms floating just around Tia, detached from her body. They looked very much like her normal arms, but more refined in shape, and almost mechanical in nature or perhaps heavily armored; ornate, with the same kinds of decorations as the staff. They were big, too; they were larger than Tia herself, and that was saying a lot.

Chopstop blinked at the translucent, glowing masses of power. Mostly black, with some green undercurrents flowing like water. “That’s a new one!”

“It’s a little bit of my cloning power, a little bit of some astral projection... oh, that’s hard to do for me, I don’t know HOW i made that one, too. A whole lot of things! Too much to keep on all at once.” As if familiar with the way she worked, Tia said, “I can’t keep powers on all the time, yeah?”

“You can’t?”

Tia blinked. “You didn’t know?”

“Nope!”

“Oh. Well.” Tia continued working on the staff, bringing more of it to life. “I gets, um. Full. Like full belly but much harder.” She frowned, either with trying to put the whole concept into words, or a tricky element of the staff. “Mine powers, they’re always changing. Don’t always want to just drop them, you know? I eats things, i turns them into powers, but they don’t stay. They gets... processed, I guesses. So I eat more stuff, I get different powers. I mixes it all up, and I get new powers on the spot for a little while. I don’t know hows to make them stay.”

She kept working for a bit. “So, a while ago, I figured something out. I can take a power I made, and turn it into something. Like fancy weapon! Like this! And then I can use it, and summon that power all over again!”

“Ooh, that’s amazing.” Chopstop grinned at her as the sextuple arms winked out. “I always say crafting stuff is more useful than just having all the powers in the world.”

“Yeps! I thinks my powers... its all about what I can get in the moment, you know? But sometimes, that won always works out for me. I never get to keep powers. I can get ways to make more, or combine what I have, but anything I get, I change too much for it to stay.”

“So then, this is a workround? You’re... what, putting that power into a physical artifact you can use indefinitely, without having to worry about burning the power out?”

“Yeps!”

[seven-oomen]

Honey, honey | A Buddie One shot

Main ship: Eddie Diaz/Evan Buckley

Wordcount: +- 1600 words

Rating: PG-13, for language, abo mentions, and mpreg mentions

Warnings: Mentions ABO dynamics but isn’t explicit, language, mpreg mention but none of it is very graphic.

I’ve tried finding/writing sensible Spanish but I’m still learning the language so forgive me for making mistakes. I blame the duo lingo owl, he’s trying his best to teach me okay?

Based on the prompt: We've been living together for a few years now, your son calls me dad and recently you started calling me honey. But I never really connected the dots until after I posted a question online and a bunch of random strangers gave me advice. When I finally confessed my feelings for you, you told me you loved me and we've been dating since.

Based on the post: https://seven-oomen.tumblr.com/post/611873995367890944/adding-this-to-my-prompt-list-because-yeah-this

Tagging: @daughter-of-infinity​​ because I saw your reblog of that post and know you wanted a story like this.

He stared at the page before him, biting his lip as he pondered his next move. Was he really going to ask a bunch of strangers online a question like this? What if he was wrong? What if someone he knew found out? What if Eddie did…

But at the same time, he was tired of walking on eggshells. Of not knowing what was going on between the two of them. Don't get him wrong,  he wasn't against Chris calling him papa or against Eddie calling him cariño. Whatever that meant. But it was weird that everything had changed so gradually. He almost hadn't noticed it really, until Tia,  Eddie's aunt, had said something about Eddie finally finding a good Alpha to raise Christopher with at the last family gathering. She had looked fondly at Buck whilst she said it. And that got him thinking. Did she think Eddie and him were dating?

Wait...

Were they?

And so, here he was. Sitting in front of his computer, staring at the Reddit ask page in front of him.

Oh, fuck it. He was already here, might as well ask some random strangers on the internet what was going on. Surely it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

He started tying.

Firehose asked a question:

What does it mean when someone changes what they've always called you?

I've (31AM) been living with my roommate and best friend (37OM) and his 11-year-old son for three years. We've been through so much together,  from earthquakes and the tsunami to a lawsuit and some bullshit with his late wife and other craziness. For us, that's just on the daily.  It happens. But it did forge a really strong friendship between us.

I care a lot about my friend and his son, to me they're family and I'd die to protect them and keep them safe. And I know he'd do the same for me. We're best friends and partners on the job but lately, he's been telling me that "I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him."

And I noticed his family has been smiling at me differently lately. I've been going to family meetings for two and a half years and consider them my family but the air seems to have changed, it's almost even warmer. I didn't think that was possible.

Anyway, I've noticed more things lately.  Like how my friend calls me cariño, I honestly don't know what that means,  and his son started calling me papa about a year ago. Which is absolutely adorable and something I encouraged, I'll admit.

But the cariño thing is bothering me as my friend smiles at me and touches my cheek when he says it. Now, we've always been very tactile in our friendship and we're completely comfortable around each other but this made me feel a bit weird. Not bad weird, just something that makes me feel something but I don't know what or why.

I just don't know what this means and I don't know how to respond to it except smile at him. Cause it does feel kinda nice. I don't know how to talk to him about it, we've never discussed our sexualities. Honestly, I'm still not sure of mine.

We've just always been really close,  shared a bed during nightmares kinda close but I honestly don't know how to breach the subject with him. Am I reading too much into this? Am I dating my best friend without knowing it? Honestly, any kind of advice would be appreciated at this point. I don't want him taking this the wrong way.

TLDR: My best friend calls me cariño and his son calls me papa. I don't know why and I'm too scared to ask. I feel a lot of things but I don't know if either of us is bisexual or gay. I don't know what to do with myself. Should I ask him if he has feelings for me?

The next few days were filled with responses from Reddit. All of them pretty much said the same thing. Just ask him out already. Talk to him. Or oh my god, you are totally dating, you dingus...

So he figured he might as well take the next step. He asked Eddie that night after they put Christopher to bed.

They were watching tv together on Eddie’s bed, a beer in hand and shoulders touching.

“So- you know how you always call me cariño? What does that mean?” He asked.

Eddie gave him a rather amused look and chuckled. “It means darling or sweetheart, maybe honey, you know. It’s a term of endearment. I thought you knew that?”

The Omega cocked his head at him and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. And it felt nice to be held, so he couldn’t help but relax in his hold, laying his head on Eddie’s shoulder as he stared at his beer bottle.

“I-” he bit his lip- “I didn’t. And I just- I don’t know. It’s confusing... “

“What is?” Eddie genuinely looked concerned. He felt terrible for causing it and he wanted nothing more than to hug his best friend and press a kiss to those lips.

Fuck.

“I- are we- Eddie are we dating?”

Eddie looked at him as if Buck had gone insane and snorted. “Excuse me? What do you-” Realization seemed to set in as Buck only looked more confused at Eddie’s amusement. “Oh, you stupid bastard…” Eddie chuckled, “Buck, we’ve been dating for two years.”

It was like a floodgate had opened and another realization came over him. The handholding, laying in bed together on most nights, taking care of Christopher, Buck coming with them to family gatherings, Eddie coming to him for comfort or affection. Holy shit... How had he missed all of that?

Neither of them had dated anyone else in the last three years, he hadn’t even looked at anyone. The only people he really wanted to spend his time with were Eddie and Christopher. Hell, they went to the zoo together, to the movies, they went out for dinner- just the two of them- in fancy restaurants even.

And it had never clicked. Not even once.

“Shit…” He looked up at Eddie in surprise before breaking out in one of his trademark beaming smiles. “Guess we have been.”

Eddie gently put both their beers on the nightstand beside him and pulled Buck closer, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Eres corto de luces, pero te amo de todos modos.” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head. (You are not the brightest bulb, but I love you anyway.)

“And that means?”

“That you’re stupid but I love you.”

He couldn’t help but smile at those words, gently cupping Eddie’s cheek as he pressed his lips against the Omega’s. “At least I’m your idiot,” He murmured.

“That you are.”

-

UPDATE: What does it mean when someone changes what they've always called you?

TLDR: You were all right and I was dating my best friend without realizing it. But guess what? We talked and now we’re married with three kids. Crazy what a year can change, huh?

So yeah, you guys haven’t heard from me in a year but I decided it was time to let you all know what happened between me and my best friend. So we talked that night after I posted my original story. Turns out I was dating him all along and never put two and two together. Until he did it for me. We talked that night and some other stuff and decided to take the next step together.

Naturally, everyone I knew had a good laugh about that one. Apparently, there was a betting pool on when I would realize I was dating my roomie. My sister won that one by the way.

So within the week my friend and I were engaged. He asked me, with some help from his son. It was adorable, really. He set up this really nice picnic for the three of us in the park, near the lake where we like to hang out on our days off. And he had his son come up to me to show me something he caught. (We both like insects, it’s kind of our shared thing.)

Turns out, our son was actually holding a ring. An engagement ring. And when he handed me the box, my friend took my hand, kissed it and asked me to marry him.

So of course, I said yes. We got married about six months after that. But it turns out that our night of ‘talking’ had some unforeseen consequences, and my husband was six months pregnant with twins when we walked down the aisle.

Yeah, so we married and two months later our son and our daughter were born. Our daughter in an elevator during a power outage and our son in an ambulance, on the way to the hospital. Because nothing in this family ever goes as planned it seems.

It’s been a wild year and if I think about it, I have all of that thanks to you guys. So thank you, for helping me realize what I had all along.

-

He finally closed his laptop and looked over to where Eddie was sleeping on the couch, Robert and Rosalie on his chest as they napped. Chris was silently drawing some pictures next to him at the table and grinned when he noticed Buck was looking.

Yeah it had been a crazy year all around, but truth be told, he would do it all over again.

-

So let me know what you all think of this one, would love to hear it. I very much enjoyed writing this. It was fun to just let my thoughts go and not worry about writing something good. I had fun and it made my day a bit brighter. And honestly, I hope it does that for other people too. So let me know if it did for you <3

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Never Be Alone: Epilogue 1 | Morgan Rielly

June 2022

“Tia Bee, youw haiw so soft,” two-and-a-half year old Jace Tavares grabbed a chunk of Bee’s hair as she balanced him on her hip.  His toothy grin was wide, his big brown eyes smiling as he let go on the chunk but began running his fingers through her hair instead.  “So soft.”

“Thank you, Jace,” Bee giggled.  Jace touched her hair whenever Bee picked him up.  From beside her, Aryne laughed, her pregnant belly, swollen with her and John’s second child, popping through her blazer.  “Do you want a cookie from the nice man?”

“Yes pwease!”

“What kind?”

“Chocowate chip!”

“Heeeeyyyyy, that’s my favourite cookie!” Angie protested playfully as the barista behind the counter grabbed a chocolate chip cookie with the tongs he was holding.  “Can I take a biiiig bite out of your cookie?”

“Noooo!” Jace giggled.  “You buy own cookie!”

The girls laughed as Aryne paid for everybody’s coffees and snacks, pushing her stroller to the counter where they chatted and awaited their drinks.  Jace was already munching on his cookie in Bee’s arms, Aryne sipping on her green tea while Bee and Angie awaited their iced coffees.  Jace eventually wiggled in Bee’s arms and asked to be put back in his stroller, and she happily obliged, strapping him in.

As the ladies made their way back to Aryne’s Range Rover in the underground parking of Yorkdale, loading all their bags into the trunk, Angie slipped into the backseat with Jace while Bee took the passenger’s seat.  “I should actually go to my parents’ house – it’s not that far and I’m due for a visit” Angie commented, snaking the seatbelt across her body.  The car light flashed on the ring on her left hand – the ring that Mason gave her one year ago as they exchanged vows on a beach in Cuba in front of close friends and family.  It was the only destination wedding Bee had been to, but it was definitely the best.  Angie looked beautiful, Mason looked handsome, and she spent a week on a beach with them, the Favaros, and Morgan.  She couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“It’s closer – I’m sure Aryne won’t mind,” Bee said as Aryne slipped into the front seat.

“Where to?  Your Uber driver needs to know,” Aryne smiled at Angie through the rear-view mirror.  

“To Bathurst and Sheppard please, where Clarette Favaro is probably already knee deep in dirt planting vegetables.”

Aryne backed out of her spot, driving through the underground parking to get to the exit.  Once they emerged into the sunlight, Angie’s phone rang from the backseat.  “Hello?...Morgan?” Angie asked, her brows furrowing.  Bee whipped her head around at the mention of his name.  “Morgan, is everything okay?...Well, we were just in underground par – yeah of course she’s with me….Uh huh…Okay…Yeah.  Yeah, we can bring her no problem…Is it urgent?  Okay…text me the address…”

“What’s wrong?” Bee mouthed to Angie, but she didn’t answer.  Angie kept nodding her head.  “Yeah.  Yeah okay.  We’ll bring her as soon as possible.  We’ll be there soon.  We’ll speed.”

It was Bee’s turn to furrow her brows as Angie hung up the phone.  “What’s going on?”

“That was Morgan.  He just needs to see you right now,” Angie said.  “We’ll bring you to him.”

“Where is he?”

“He texted me the address,” she said, leaning forward.  She showed her phone screen to Aryne, away from Bee’s eye.  “Do you know where this is?  Can you go here?”

Aryne took a quick glance at the screen.  “Absolutely.  I know exactly where that is.  I’ll get us there in no time.”

***

Bee was nervous the entire time that Aryne drove them to wherever Morgan was.  Bee didn’t even pay attention to her surroundings and where they were going – she was too busy furiously texting Morgan on her phone – no response from him, naturally – and asking Angie a bunch of questions.  What did he sound like?  Was everything alright?  Did he sound hurt?  Was he crying?  Was he angry?  Did he seem pissed off?  Had something happened with the Leafs and they were the last to know about it?

When Aryne finally arrived at the destination, driving up to the curb and parking, Bee practically tuck-and-rolled out of the car.  “Morgan!” she called out, running up to him as he was waiting for her on the front porch of a house.  “What’s wrong?  Is everything okay?” she asked hurriedly.

“Damn, Aryne got you here quick,” he commented, a smirk on his face.  “Tell her she’s gotta slow down.  Precious cargo and all that.”

The fact that he was so blasé confused her.  Angie’s tone seemed a little bit frantic, and although she answered all of Bee’s questions to the best of her abilities, her answers didn’t really, well…answer anything.   Bee was determined to get to the bottom of it.  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, no,” he shook his head.  “I just gotta show you something.”

With the realization that he wasn’t hurt or seemingly in danger, she was able to calm down.   She finally noticed his clothes – a plain old t-shirt, old jeans, and runners.  Behind him, a doorway surrounded by white trimming and red brick.  Finally, she really took in that they were standing on the porch of a house.  “Where…whose house is this?”

“Come in.  Come inside,” he said, ignoring her question, his smirk still adorning his face.  “Here,” he handed her a hard hat.  He had another in his hand, presumably for him, that she hadn’t noticed until now.  “You’re gonna need this.”

“A hardhat?  Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Bee looked back to see Aryne’s Range Rover already gone.  Instead, she was greeted with the streetscape – beautiful, old, lush trees; large, stately Tudor and Edwardian style manor homes, kept in pristine condition from when they were first built, and perfectly manicured lawns.  Quiet, quiet streets.  

“Welcome to 220 Dunvegan Road,” Morgan announced, stretching out his arms to present the house before putting on his hard hat and opening the door.  

Bee stepped foot inside the house behind Morgan, looking around at what greeted her – pretty much nothing.  When she finally closed the front door behind her, she noticed a majority of the house was stripped down to the studs.  There were still some beams here and there, and the stained-glass windows were still perfectly intact.  “Where…where even are we?” she asked, still confused, trying to take everything in.  

“I just said.  220 Dunvegan Road,” he repeated.  “This house is on one of Forest Hill’s most coveted streets.  It has over 5000 square feet of living space.”

“You sound like a real estate agent,” she commented.  

“Maybe I am,” he winked as he grabbed her hand.  “Come with me.  Let me show you.”

Morgan took her upstairs first, up the grand staircase that dominated the foyer – and the upstairs was ripped to the studs even more than the downstairs.  There were barely any walls – or wood for walls – anymore.  “So this is where the bedrooms would go…obviously,” he said as he led her through the ‘rooms’.  “The master would be towards the back, overlooking the backyard…where those windows are there,” he pointed.  “You’d have enough space to have a massive bedroom, but then a spa-like master ensuite with a shower and a tub over here,” he began framing with his hands, “and even a huge walk in closet right over here,” he switched sides and began framing with his hands again.  “His and hers, or together – doesn’t matter.  Both are possible because there’s so much space.”

“Okay…” Bee said, trying to picture everything he was saying.

“Then, of course, the other bedrooms.  Three, at least.  Each of them would have their own ensuite bathrooms too…one here,” he pointed, bringing her along down the hallway with him, “another here,” he moved further down the hallway, and around the bend, “and then the last one here,” he moved on once more until he was finished.  “And then, actually – geeze, I almost forgot – right over here could be a second floor laundry room.  Or else it could go on the main floor, basement – wherever – but second floor laundry is so convenient, because nobody would have to haul baskets up and down stairs.”

He was right.  Lugging baskets of towels or clothes upstairs could take a lot out of a person.  A second-floor laundry room would be very convenient.  Bee nodded her head slightly, again trying to picture everything he was saying – how the layout would be in the house.  “The bedrooms would be huge,” she commented softly.

“They would be.  Cozy, but big.  They’ve all still got big windows but there’d be enough space,” he said, grabbing her hand again.  “What do you think?”

“It’s a bit…it’s a bit hard to visualize for me, but I can see it,” she admitted, looking around once more to where he had pointed out bedrooms and bathrooms and laundry rooms.  “Everything would be so…I don’t know the right real estate term.  Graciously proportioned?” she giggled slightly.

“Something like that,” he smiled, leading her down the hall.  “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

As they made their way back down the grand staircase, Morgan walked in front of Bee and held her hand to make sure she didn’t fall or lose her balance.  She jumped down the last step playfully, causing her hardhat to cover her eyes.  Morgan shook his head at her as he readjusted it so she could see again.  “You’re gonna need your eyes for this Bumblebee.”

“Will I?”

“Come on, this side first,” he grabbed her hand again and led her back to the front of the house.  “This is like…the living room, dining room combination,” Morgan began explaining again.  “The idea is that it’s open in case you need to extend the dining section, but still sort of sectioned off that the rooms are separate,” he walked into the room, again holding out his arms to show the vastness of empty space.  “Look at these stained-glass windows – it’d be dumb to take them out.  And look,” he turned around, tapping the old mantle, “the original, wood-burning fireplace from when this place was originally built in the 1920s.”

“The 1920s?  My God,” Bee mumbled, unable to keep the smile off her face.  “I’ve always loved the wood-burning fireplace Rocco and Clarette have.”

“I know,” Morgan smirked, “that’s why it’s good that this place has two.  One here, and one in the family room.”

The smile couldn’t leave Bee’s face.  With every passing second, she found it easier to visualize what the rooms would look like once walls and detailing were up, and what it could be furnished with.  “That mantle could be custom-built,” she commented.  “With like…what do they call them?  Built ins?”

“Mhm.  Built-ins,” he smirked, nodding his head.  “Come with me,” he grabbed onto her hand again as they exited the room back into the foyer.  “So over there – big big entrance closet, and then over here, right beside it, is French doors leading to the library,” he walked through the open archway into the room.

“A library?” Bee questioned.  “You mean this was a house with a library?”

“It could be a library,” he clarified, turning around.  “Giant window looking out into the street over there, and on this wall, and this wall, and this wall,” he pointed to the remaining three walls, “floor to ceiling bookcases.  They can be oak, white – whatever colour.  A big desk right here, in the centre, or looking over the window…”

Bee began to visualize once again.  She nodded her head.  “All that natural light coming in would be beautiful.  It would be a good reading space, I think.”

“Wouldn’t it?  And then here,” he stepped outside, having her follow him, “the main floor powder room, or laundry room, or power-laundry combination – whatever…but finally, finally…”

He grabbed her hand one last time and led her to the back of the house.  The original walls had already been torn out – she figured as much – and what was left was a giant, open space.  Giant.  She was pretty sure this section of the house alone was bigger than their apartment.  “This is the kitchen – family room combination.  Family room here – another wood burning fireplace.  There can be built-in bookshelves surrounding it.  Big TV up top.  Surround sound, naturally,” he winked, “with French doors out onto the deck over there,” he began walked backwards to the other section of the massive room.  “And then…last but not least…the kitchen,” he motioned.  “Everyday informal eating area here,” he motioned his hands around where they were standing, “and then here, a massive island – massive – and bar seating.  Quartz counters.  Six burner stove, fridge – the works.  A chef’s kitchen, completely.  Big window above the sink to look out onto the backyard.  Hardwood floors.  Undermount sink.  The works.”

Bee could picture everything.  The white cabinets.  The backsplash.  The quartz counters.  The stainless steel appliances.  Everything.  She could picture everything.

“But there could be changes, Bumblebee.  If you wanted more windows, we could put more windows in the bedrooms.  Bigger ones.  Or if you wanted one of those accordion doors in the kitchen leading out to the deck, that can happen.  That can be put in,” Morgan said.

Bee noticed his word choice and furrowed her brows.  It was going to be a beautiful house one day, surely, but…“Why do you say ‘if you wanted’?” she asked.  “What do I have to do with any of this?”

Morgan paused.  He knew she was overwhelmed but he was a bit shocked she didn’t get it by now.  He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “This is our house, Briony,” he said.  

The words were like a foreign language to her.  She had to digest each word individually before she could move forward.  “Th…This…this is our house?”

Morgan nodded his head.  “This is our house.  This is where we’re going to build our house.  This is where…this is where you’re going to get your dream kitchen, right here.  Right where we’re standing,” he said.  “This is where you’re going to get your library for all your books.  This is…this is where we’re going to live, Bumblebee.”

As she listened to Morgan’s words, Bee’s chest began to heave slightly.  This was going to be their house.  Their home.  This is where they would live together.  Cook together.  Sleep together.  Read together.  Entertain together.  Hang pictures on the walls together.  Bring in firewood from the garage together.  Stub their toe on the couch together.

Raise a family together.

“I don’t…h…when…” Bee was speechless.  

“I bought it…God, your graduation day,” Morgan revealed, knowing the question she was desperate to formulate.  “Your graduation day when you made me bring your Chanel purse.  I emptied out the stuff in it so you’d have room and I saw the feature sheet for this place and well…I went to visit it a few weeks later because I couldn’t get it out of my head.  And I fell in love with it.  I don’t know why you got that feature sheet – why you had it in your bag or whatever – but the second I stepped foot I the door I knew this was our house,” he told her.  “I bought it right then and there.  I knew there were so many things left for you to do in your life and your career so I rented it out for a bit, just sort of kept it, but now…now that I’ve signed a contract to stay, Bumblebee, and now that we know for sure, I just…this is our house.  This is our home, Briony.”

Bee was stiff.  Suddenly, she could see the fire and hear the crackle of the wood burning as she was draped in blankets during a cozy night in.  She could hear the water running and the oven alarm going off as she baked in the kitchen.  She could see herself furiously typing away in the office surrounded by her books.  She could hear the pitter-patter of little feet upstairs on the hardwood floor.  Tears began falling down her cheeks as she saw her future laid out for her in the studs of the house.  She was overwhelmed with feelings trying to take everything in.  “This…this is going to be our home?”

“Bumblebee?” Morgan asked from behind her.

She didn’t even realize she had turned around to have her back to him.  When she spun around at the sound of his voice, she saw him down on one knee.  Her breath hitched in her throat.  “Morgan…”

“Bumblebee, you know how much I love you,” he began, holding the small box in his hand.  “You’ve made me a better person and I can’t picture myself spending the rest of my life with anybody else.  You’ve been with me through thick and thin.  I’ve loved you for the past four years.  I’ll love you forever.  Briony McTavish, will you marry me?”

Bee was nodding her head before he even opened the ring box.  It was the easiest decision she’d ever made in her life, but she somehow couldn’t find the words as the tears streamed down her face.   Morgan smiled at her reaction.  “Is that a yes?” he teased.

“The biggest yes I’ve ever given anything.”

When he finally opened the box, Bee audibly gasped at the sparkle and size of the ring presented to her.  At first, she didn’t extend her hand so he could put it on.  “Morgan…it’s…it’s beautiful.”

“Can I put it on you?”

Bee finally extended a shaky hand for him to slip the ring onto her finger.  It was massive radiant cut set in a hidden halo with a thin, intricate infinity band.  The entire thing was set in platinum and sparkled like nothing she had ever seen before.  Morgan stood up before pushing it on gently.  When he was done, Bee grabbed his face and brought it down to kiss him passionately.  He couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Don’t you want to take a look at it?”

“I wanna kiss you first,” she kissed him again.  “I wanna…you could have gotten me a ring pop and I would have said yes.”  When she finally did stop kissing him, she looked down to the sparkler on her hand.  “Oh my Lanta, Morgan,” she whispered, holding it up to get an even better look at it.  

“Did I do good?”

Bee gave him a look.  “You did great, baby.”

___________________________________________________________

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A post shared by Benz & Co. Diamonds (@benzdiamonds) on Jun 19, 2019 at 12:47pm PDT

[novelist-becca]

You have a Right to be Angry

Fandom: Coco

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Miguel & Luisa, Miguel & Rosa

Summary: Miguel hates himself for idolizing Ernesto De La Cruz, and takes irrational measures. Thankfully his family is there for him at his lowest.

AO3 link

FFN link

Angry.

That was how Miguel felt when he looked at his old Ernesto de la Cruz merchandise for the first time in months.

Angry at him for what he did to his family, and anger at himself for believing his lies for so long. He felt pretty stupid for liking the guy in the first place.

Even though things are different now than they were before, it just felt…wrong to have the murderer’s face showing up in the comfort of Miguel’s home. Miguel hates Ernesto for hurting Papá Héctor, for giving him an afterlife of misery, and for deceiving Mama Imelda. But he also hates himself a little too, for believing him.

Miguel needs to get rid of that stuff.

So, when nobody is looking, sneaks a knife from the kitchen. Not a big one, but the knife was sharp enough to cut paper. He knew he would get in trouble later, but that didn’t matter right now. He goes into his closet, where the merchandise was put three months ago. And he takes out everything. The posters, the figurines, the vinyl record. And he heads out into the courtyard.

Miguel sets the stuff down on the ground, and for a brief moment he feels tears on his cheeks. He shakes his head. And tears the first poster apart, not caring about the resulting paper cuts. It felt good. He ripped the next one apart, this time with more force because the paper was thicker. He uses the knife to try to carve an “X” into Ernesto’s face. This is what you get for hurting us, for hurting Héctor, he thought. Tears were really pouring out of his eyes now.

Rip, rip, rip. The third poster was made from card stock, so it was no surprise that it didn’t tear right away. Miguel only made a tiny tear before he threw it to the ground and grabbed the knife. His hand was shaking. He hates Ernesto’s guts. He hates his smug grin. But when he brought the knife down, it got his hand.

“AAAOOOWWW!!!”

The blade grazed the side of Miguel’s hand, surprising him with the pain. He drops the knife. He couldn’t take it anymore. Miguel’s breathing sped, his heart pounding, and he clutched his hand as he fell to the ground, curling up into a ball and crying, not noticing any of his surroundings. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t breathe.

out of my head-

I can't breathe!

These thoughts fill Miguel’s head as he curls into himself. He's lost track of time. Breathing hurts now. It was as if the world was fading away…

~

As soon as Rosa heard the scream she ran outside. Miguel was on the ground, curled up tight, his breathing so fast that it almost appeared he wasn’t even doing it. It honestly scared Rosa. She knelt next to her cousin.

“Miguel? Miguel! Hey! Come on, talk to me!” She said in a shaky voice.

Rosa was in no way experienced in comfort. Noticing the Ernesto de la Cruz merchandise, torn up posters, and a bloody knife, she decided she had to find someone. And with that, she ran inside, almost bumping into her Tia Luisa.

“I heard a scream! What…?” She asked frantically.

Rosa pointed outside. “It’s Miguel. Something’s wrong!” And Luisa was in the courtyard.

~

When Luisa got to her son, the way he was shaking scared her immensely. He looked like he stopped breathing. But she quickly tried to comfort him. Let him know she’s there. She carefully lifted him up and pulled him closer to her, albeit slowly so as not to scare him, but nonetheless startling him a little bit as he flinched and attempted to push away weakly.

“Mijo, hey! Hey, look at me, calmate, it’s me. It’s Mamá, it’s okay.” Luisa said as calmly as possible. The boy relaxed a little bit, sobbing seemingly in relief. “Shh, deep breaths.” she calmly instructed, inhaling and exhaling slowly to demonstrate. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, mijo. I’m right here.” She soothed, stroking his hair.

Soon enough, Miguel was able to lift his head to look at her. Luisa smiled and sighed in relief. He’s going to be okay, she thought to herself.

“Mamá?” He, murmured, and Luisa pulled him in for a tight embrace. Miguel wrapped his arms around his mother, crying into her shoulder, not wanting to let go. When she pulled back, some snot was coming out of his nose and he was hiccuping from crying so much.

“Estas bien?” She asked, gently holding his face, wiping her son's tears away with her thumb.

Miguel nodded. “I think so…” Then she noticed the cut on his hand.

“How did this happen?” She gasped. “It hurts…” Miguel says. Luisa shook her head and helped her boy up.

“Come on, Miguel, let’s get that cleaned up. You can tell me in the bathroom.” She explained, guiding him by his hand.

~

Mamá gently rubbed Miguel’s back as he threw up into the toilet, as he felt nauseous from the mild panic attack. She never let go of him. Normally, Miguel would be embarrassed to be babied by his mother at 13. But right now, it didn't matter. He wanted her comfort. And he didn't forget briefly hearing Rosa trying to get his attention, so he'll have to thank her later.

After getting him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, Mamá got some bandages and hydrogen peroxide out of the cabinet, and then knelt in front of the boy with a damp washcloth, taking his cut hand. Miguel braces himself for the sting.

“Try to hold still, mijo. This will sting.” She reminds him.

The washcloth does sting against Miguel's hand, but he relaxes after a few seconds, letting the medicine do its thing.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Mamá asks, beginning to wrap Miguel’s hand in a bandage.

He gulps. “Lo siento, I wasn't thinking, I was just so angry about De la Cruz and what he did to our family, a-and I hate that I had so much faith in him!” Miguel rambles.

“It's okay, mijo. It's alright. I'm not mad. You were just acting on your emotions and that's okay. Si, you overreacted. But you have every right to be angry.” Mamá reassured, squeezing her son’s shoulders.

Miguel relaxes under her touch. He's glad his mother is understanding.

“You know, I'm angry too. When you told me what that man did to you, I was furious that anyone would try to hurt you. But you being here alive and well is enough to calm my fears.” She reassured.

Miguel and Mamá hug each other once again, before Miguel has enough energy to go back outside to clean up his mess. He hopes Abuelita won't be angry.

“I'm going back out to clean up the mess, Mamá,” he explains.

“Alright, but don't strain that hand. And let me know if you want help. I'll explain what happened to your father and Abuelita.” Mamá says, letting the boy leave.

~

When Miguel made it into the hall, he was met with Rosa’s concerned face.

“Oh, thank god, you're okay…” she murmurs before hugging her cousin, Miguel returning the affection.

When they pulled away from each other, Miguel smiled at Rosa. “Gracias for getting Mamá. I don't know what would've happened if I had been there longer.” He says.

“Don't worry about it. Tia heard you scream anyway, but I'm just happy you're okay.” Rosa says, waving a hand.

“Oh…she heard me scream?” Miguel wonders if the rest of the family heard him too. But Mamá said she'd explain the situation to them, so he hopes they'll be at least a little calm about it.

It was as if his prima could read his mind, because she says “Everybody else heard you, that's for sure.” She says, also nervous about their reaction. Then she shakes her head. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded, but I'll be okay. My hand’s not hurting as much, either.” He explains. “I should've been thinking…”

“Which reminds me!” Rosa interjects, trying to bring her primo back to the present. “I saw the De la Cruz merchandise. I have some ideas on how to get rid of it, if you'll let me help you?” She explains.

Miguel smiles and nods in approval. “Sure.” He knows she'd follow him anyway if he rejected her. Besides, he wants to see if her ideas are any good.

~

Rosa’s idea of getting rid of the merchandise was to cut up the posters they don't want (with scissors this time), but salvage what they can use in the future. It's a lot of work, but they will do it.

Despite the scissors being there, Miguel rips apart posters with his hands instead of cutting. Rosa rolls her eyes. Meanwhile, she has other ideas for the posters. Maybe she could use the scrap pieces and craft them into something else? She shakes her head. Me and my eye for art, She thinks. Then she notices Miguel folding a piece of paper into a hat. So he had the same idea as well.

Miguel put the makeshift hat on Rosa’s head, covering the flower on her headband, and laughed at how silly she looked.

She playfully shoves him. “You dork!” She exclaims. But she's glad to see her cousin feeling better and acting like his normal self.

~

Miguel keeps tearing and crumbling pieces of paper until he comes across the wooden figurine of De la Cruz. As he remembers Papá Héctor’s face, he gets an idea. What if he painted the figurine over so it looked like him instead? So he puts it in one of the boxes Rosa had set out.

Miguel also sets aside one of De la Cruz’s vinyl records. It may not be playable, but at least he can take off the De la Cruz label and instead use it for something else.

He sees Rosa making paper boats out of the torn posters and guesses she's giving them to Manny and Benny. Miguel decides he'll make the same thing for Socorro.

After a moment, Rosa stops to turn to him. “You know it's okay to talk to us, right, Miguel?” She asks, sighing.

Miguel looks down. “I'm sorry…I'm still used to getting through this on my own.” He murmurs.

Rosa puts a hand on his shoulder. “I may not be any good at mushy pep talks, or comfort, but I promise that things are not like they were before. I'm still getting used to this as well, but I want to try to help you.”

Miguel grins at her. “Thanks.”

Then Rosa ruffles his hair. “No problem. Wouldn't want you spiraling into madness like I always knew you would, right?”

He rolls his eyes but nods in agreement. “Nope!”

At that, the two cousins wrap up their work and stand up, Rosa carrying the boxes inside and Miguel bringing the trash to the trash bin.

~

In his room, Miguel sets out the things on his desk. He decided to keep the mug, the figurine, and the vinyl record so he can redesign them. Or as he likes to put it, “fix” them.

He sits down to think, feeling exhaustion setting in, just like the morning he came back from the Land of the Dead. This must've been how Mamá Imelda felt when she thought Papá Héctor left...

No, he won't dwell on the past. He knows Papá Héctor and Mamá Imelda are back together, and things are looking up for everyone now. He needs to move forward.

Just then, Miguel’s parents and Abuelita came into his room, along with his baby sister Socorro cradled in Mamá’s arms.

“Dios mio! Are you alright? Your mother told us what happened!” Abuelita said frantically, hugging Miguel tightly. When he gasped for air, she let go. “Lo siento, am I smothering you?”

Miguel shakes his head. “I'm okay, Abuelita, I promise.”

Papá kneels down so that he is at Miguel’s level. “You know you can talk to us about these things now, right? We’ll always be here for you.” He says, looking sad.

“We love you, Miguel.” Mamá adds as they all hug the boy.

Miguel smiles at his parents and grandmother after they pull away from each other. He didn't want them to be upset, but here they were. At least they weren't upset with him. He wipes away a stray tear. “I love you too.”

Mamá steps forward, handing baby Coco towards Miguel as she reached for her brother. “I think this little one was worried about you too.”

Miguel happily holds his sister, “Don't worry, hermana, I'm okay.” And Coco reaches for his face as he laughs softly at her cuteness.

~

After his family leaves his room (but not before Abuelita peppers his face with kisses), Miguel gets a box of his old baby toys that he hasn't gotten rid of yet out of his closet, and sets it out for Coco, wanting to keep her entertained. While she is exhausting, Miguel loves her with all his heart. He guesses this must've been how Papá Héctor felt when Mamá Coco was born.

(Also, she was getting heavy, which meant carrying her was a sort of workout for the boy.)

Miguel got his art supplies out of his desk drawer. While music used to be banned in the house, art certainly wasn't. So while Miguel couldn't find the time to practice music in secret, he entertained himself drawing. And while he wasn't the best artist, he still liked doing it.

Suddenly he hears Rosa clearing her throat. “You didn't think you were doing this alone, did you?”

Miguel smirks at the girl. “Alright, come on in.”

Rosa sets out the vinyl records, and some stencils and paint. Believe it or not, Miguel appreciates the extra help. Baby Coco in the corner laughs and shakes a maraca toy as the two work together on their project.

Miguel is too happy to find the noise irritating. Instead, he occasionally taps a beat with his pencil to make it sound like music, and Rosa joins in.

The music will help, as will his family. And he will help them. And I want it to stay this way, Miguel thinks as he turns to the mug and the figurine. He knows what he wants to do. And these will make great ofrenda gifts next Dia de los Muertos.

~

For the next several months, a new decoration occupied the Rivera workshop. 3 vinyl records with the Rivera logo printed in the middle where a De la Cruz logo used to be.

And on the next Dia de los Muertos, Héctor’s heart swelled with pride when he took a repainted figurine of him. And although Miguel couldn't see him, he still thanked the boy.

And Imelda felt the same way when she took a mug that was repainted to have the Rivera shoe logo on one side, and a music note on the other.

And Miguel made these gifts because of his family’s love. Because they were there for him. And he was ever so grateful for that.