#and I won’t be able to bring her to the parents’ house during holidays like I could with a dog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightlycareless · 1 year ago

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happy new year y'all and belated xmas I guess due to the theme of this oneshot lmao. I never get inspiration for these things unless on the actual day; can you believe that?

anyways, I hope you will still be able to enjoy this little thing i wrote :> I call it "Naomi's first xmas" (a.k.a your daughter with Naoya).

Warnings: none. fluff. your dad being a goofball.

Enjoy!

“I don’t think many people are going to come.”

“Who did you invite?”

“You know, the usual, but I doubt he’s going to show up, as always.”

“Then I won’t make more.”

“… well, do a bit more, a tiny bit, just in case.”

Coming from the kitchen, you heard your siblings, Hinata and Ren, discuss the last preparations for Christmas Eve dinner.

Every year, planning around these holidays would go down the same way: Ren was designated to be the leader of sorts, making the decisions that ranged from what kind of decoration would be used around the house to what they’d have for dinner.

Back in the day it would be your parents, (and then just Eiichi, of course), the one in charge of all that; but as of recent years Ren decided to take on that responsibility simply for the sense of comfort this familiarity brought him; and because he genuinely enjoyed doing so—also, because he’d spent last Christmas’ with his wife, Kanon, and felt like he needed to something to make up for those holidays he spent apart from his family.

From there, Hinata. She… Well, she’d try her best to be around the holidays to begin with, since work was always hectic for an accomplished sorceress around this time. Now add to that that she’s also an heiress of a somewhat important clan! And that’s just all year round.

Yet, she’d always manage, either through overworking herself days prior, or because she has excellent time management skills—thus, when she does find herself back home, she’d be the one to send out invitations and general holiday greetings.

And lastly, you. Alongside your father, you’d be the one to set up the decorations and buy gifts. It was your favorite activity to do during the holiday season, after spending time with your family of course. Something about seeing what new seasonal merchandise stores had always filled you with excitement, as well as an urge to get everything before it sold out!

But this year, you’d impose a limit on yourself; and not because you came to the realization that this might’ve been getting a bit out of control, but rather, because your attention now dwelled on something more important.

It’s what made this year’s holidays all too special compared to the rest: it was your daughter’s first Christmas.

It was safe to say that everyone held the same excitement as you and Naoya had when it came to seeing her reaction to everything Christmas.

She already had her first Halloween, which had been a total success as seen by her toothy grin while wearing that adorable costume you got her—something you’ll forever remember thanks to the endless pictures you took, the same ones your father and siblings demanded you’d share, quickly becoming everyone’s phone wallpaper.

In other words, the anticipation to see what Naomi will be wearing/doing for the holidays was much greater than that of the actual presents—although for you and Naoya, getting to spend time together as a family was more than enough.

“Do you need help with anything?” you’d ask, looking over Hinata’s shoulder; Ren had been earnestly debating whether to prepare more food, or not, for those yet-to-confirm guests. He didn’t mind having to do more, he just didn’t like the notion that it might go to waste.

But even then, he knew that between Hinata, you, and him, that wouldn’t be an issue.

“Yes—bring Naomi-chan!” Hinata says, swiftly turning around while grinning.

“I meant, with dinner.” You chuckle.

“Aw, then why you’d ask?” your sister frowns.

“She’s asleep right now, Hinata. Why would you even ask something so selfish?” Ren teases.

“I just want to see my adorable niece.” Hinata whines. “It’s all I want for Christmas!”

“Get in line, then.” Ren smirks, moving from one side of the counter to the other before placing a tray into the oven. “Do you plan to dress her up this time?”

“Not in a costume per say, but yes! Got everything set up already; but I’ll change her after Naoya and dad are back.” You respond.

“Oh, can we at least get a sneak peek?!” Hinata begs, you shake your head.

“It’s a surprise.” You smile, Hinata groans.

“Aghhhhh, then they better hurry up!”

Normally, everyone would’ve remained at the house by that point, with the occasional exception of going to the store to buy some last-minute things, but even then, it was still very rare since Ren diligently accounted for everything the moment he set his mind to it.

However, this Christmas would continue to prove itself different by a landslide, starting with the absence of your father and Naoya.

Circling back to the fact that this was to be Naomi’s first Christmas, Naoya promised himself to do everything in his power to make it extra special.

Such as by getting her all the presents in the world: toys, dolls, plushies, or anything that pertained to her favorite character—and even though some of them weren’t really suitable for her young age, Naoya brushed off any doubts by saying:

“What if it’s a limited-edition item and by the time she’s older it’s no longer available? Yeah, no, I’m not risking my little princess being upset because of my insolence. I’m buying it.”

The same excuse he’d when also getting her things that simply caught her interest; just to be sure she had them whenever she eventually began to like them.

But as happy as you were to see Naoya happily indulging your baby, there were moments where the thought of him perhaps going a bit overboard with the presents crossed your mind…

Yet, as always, he’d reassure you with the following:

“This is only the bare minimum for Naomi—and even then, it is not enough!”

And with that, you’d only chuckle, understanding that even if you asked him to control himself a bit, he would just proceed to spoil her again.

Looks like there’s no definite way to beat a father’s determination when it comes to making his daughter happy…

And talking about fathers…

Because Naomi was Eiichi’s first grandchild + her first Christmas, it was only natural that just like Naoya, he’d want to make this celebration as special as it could be—just as he always did year round.

However, one thing would still manage to surprise you out of all this, and it wasn’t their unconditional adoration towards Naomi, (which you were eternally grateful for) but rather… the unspoken competition that sparked between your husband and father to show said affection.

For example, whatever Naoya bought for Naomi, your father would get two, even in different colors, in case one of them broke down or got lost, or something between the two

“Just in case” Eiichi would say when confronted if this was really necessary.

It definitely irked your husband much more than he would like to admit, a consequence of his highly competitive and overprotective nature…

Yet, Naoya knew very well that there was no true maliciousness behind his actions, for your father was only being affectionate and caring—if anything, he was glad that she had a loving family to endlessly dote on her; a contrasting difference to how the Zen’in normally behaved.

But going back to the reason for their absence, in their excessive purchase of presents they had failed to realize that shipped items may face a delay due to the high amount of work the postal service is put under throughout this season.

The shock on their faces when finding out that Naomi might not be able to open all her presents on Christmas day is one that you’ll never forget—although it amused you more than anything else.

This issue would just remind you how resourceful they were, because by some strange, unknown efforts, they were able to get her presents just in time—like, on the very day of Christmas eve, which is why they were out, scampering to the postal office to pick up her things, subsequently wrapping them and placing them underneath the Christmas tree; and all before Naomi could notice they weren’t even there to begin with.

“Realistically, I don’t think she’s going to notice.” You say upon noticing their stress, an attempt to alleviate some of their burdens.

“But still—we can’t have her believe Santa likes others better!” Eiichi countered, and Naoya silently agreed. “Y/N, do you think—"

“Already ahead of you.” You smile, willing to go along. “She’ll probably be taking a nap either way, so don’t worry. Naomi won’t see a thing!”

… But will they be back soon?

[Naoya: We’re almost there, just finished wrapping the presents.]

[Y/N: Oh, that’s good. I was beginning to worry that something happened! Anyways, the food is almost done, all that’s missing is you and dad. Please come back quickly, baby ☹ Naomi and I miss you.]

[Naoya: I’m almost there, my love. However… there’s something I need to tell you first.]

[Y/N: What is it? Is everything ok?]

[Naoya: Yes, but it's about your dad.]

[Y/N: … What about him?]

[Naoya: Your dad is coming back later.]

[Y/N: Huh? What do you mean he's coming back later? What happened to my dad?]

[Naoya: Nothing bad, I swear, I know how this sounds but don’t worry about it. Just�� well, you'll know what I mean.]

And a few minutes later, Naoya finally arrives, bringing along a huge bag filled with what you imagined to be (largely) Naomi’s presents, colorfully wrapped boxes of all sizes which he scurried to organize underneath the tree before anything else—He didn’t mean to walk past you without even acknowledging you, of course not, but he had to make haste of the fact that Naomi was still asleep.

But once that was set, he was finally able to greet you as his heart desired, swiftly walking over to your side as he took you into his arms, leaning down to sweetly peck your lips.

“Welcome back, dear.” You smile, placing your hands on the sides of his face and pulling him closer to you before helping him out his coat. “How was the trip? Chaotic?”

“Yes, last minute-shoppers.” He sighs, resting his face against the crook of your neck once free of his coat before groaning. “Don’t know why people tend to leave everything to the end, it’s—annoying. And to think they almost cost my daughter her first Christmas!”

You chuckle, kissing the top of his head while rubbing his back.

“Well, you won’t have to deal with them anymore—Or anyone else but us for the next few days.” you say, reminding him of his small break from work. Truly, a Christmas miracle.

From that day forward, until he has to go back of course, it’s just him, Naomi, and you.

“That sounds like a dream.” He admits, leaning back to get a good look at you and smiling. “Naomi is still asleep, right?”

“Yes, she is—napping in the bedroom.” You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Then, you look over his shoulder, noticing a peculiar absence. “By the way… I’m assuming dad is not here because of the thing you told me?”

Naoya nods.

“What happened?”

He presses his lips together.

“… he told me he needed to do something else before returning.” Naoya begins, in such a suspicious way that obviously makes your anxiety rise even higher.

Your husband is quick to catch your reaction, but he's even quicker to reassure you.

“I wish I could tell you more, mochi, but he told me to keep it a secret. It’s nothing bad, just… play along, ok?” Naoya says, kissing your cheek.

Well, you know it could never be anything bad if it came from either your father or husband.

But if so, why such secrecy? It really unnerved you, especially for the time this was taking place in…

“Will I get to know eventually?” is all that you ask, he nods.

“Very soon.”

But if it was of utmost importance they keep this a secret, then you’ll trust them. And soon, you leave it at that.

“Do you think they’ll like our little surprise?” Naoya asks, changing the subject.

“Of course.” You grin, excitement beaming through your words. “Kept it a secret until now so no one suspects a thing!”

“I still can’t believe.” Naoya smiles, kissing your lips once more. “It's really happening.”

“I just hope my dad will be here to see it…”

“Why is dad still not back home?” Hinata asks upon noticing the elephant in the room: Ren had just taken out the last tray from the oven, began to prepare the food to be served, yet Eiichi was nowhere to be found.

Certainly uncommon from someone who treasures family above anything else.

“I thought he was only going to pick up some things.” she adds.

“Right, Naoya?” Ren says, with an accusatory tone that immediately makes your husband nervous.

“Ye—yeah…” he murmurs, eyes darting around the room for your support, only to panic when realizing you also have yet to come back from Naomi, away readying her for the evening now that she woke up. “He said he’ll be back soon.”

“Heard anything from him yet?” Hinata asks for the nth time at that moment. He shakes his head.

“Just that he’s almost done.” Naoya responds, trying his best to not feel intimidated by them. Even after years of being married to you, and now father of your child, your siblings always found ways to tease him; all in a playful nature, of course. “Anyways, Naomi should be ready soon…”

“Oh, that’s true! Y/N’s getting baby Naomi ready, isn’t she?” Hinata gushes, completely discarding the dilemma with her father out the window and focusing on what she considers the highlight of the day, no, year! “I wonder what adorable outfit she’ll wear today! Can you give us a hint at least, Naoya??”

The ball is on his court this time, and Naoya plans to take advantage of that.

“No can do.” He says, a smile on his face. Revenge is served when Hinata groans. “Not even I know what she’s planning.”

“How… mysterious” Ren murmurs. “First dad, and now Y/N… if I didn’t know any better, it seems like they’re plotting something together.”

“No, that can’t be.” Naoya immediately says, and as if his behavior wasn’t suspicious already, Ren and Hinata are now completely convinced that your husband is hiding something. “I mean, Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on either so….”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough.” You suddenly say, having arrived just a few seconds ago as you stand by the entrance; with a big grin on your face and the perception of hiding something behind you. “Is the food ready?”

“Y/N.” Naoya breathes; hopeful at the sight of his salvation. At least he’ll be away from being further interrogated by your siblings and jeopardizing the mission.

He wishes to walk over to you, but knowing the intention behind your approach, as well as noticing the eager look on your face, he stays still.

“It is… but only for those that bring Naomi-chan!” Hinata exclaims as she tries to look over your shoulder, you moving along her eyes. “Where is she? Still asleep?”

“Not quite.” You say, giving your husband one last glance, a tight smile that tells him just how excited you were, a sentiment he also shared, which he responds with a reassuring nod.

So, gathering all your courage, you clear your throat, take a deep breath, and then, address your siblings.

“Naoya and I wanted to keep this a surprise for today, since we thought it was quite fitting.” You begin. “I was hoping for everyone to be here, but if I don't do it now, I fear it might spoil itself.”

“What surprise?” Ren asks, and with that, you move to the side, letting your small surprise step into the picture.

Dressed in a green and red linen romper over a long sleeved white collared shirt, with a bow of the same fabric decorating her dark hair, your daughter Naomi tightly held onto your leg as she walked beside you.

Her legs were a bit wobbly, with one of her arms occasionally stretching out as to keep balance, while the other tightly held onto your hand for safety—Yet her determination to continue forward remained unwavering, as well as the excitement of your family when seeing their beloved niece finally taking her first steps!

Kind of.

“She can—she can walk already?!” Hinata is the first to exclaim, crying at the adorable way Naomi tried to follow your lead. “When—when did this happen???”

“She can.” You say, trying your best to not pick her up, hug her, and kiss her all over her soft cheeks! After all, Naomi was very determined to keep walking once she discovered she could, a fact that made her advancement impossible to hide from the rest of the world since she wanted to do nothing but explore her new skill!

There's no doubt in your mind that if she keeps up like this, she'll be able to run in no time! And from there…

Oh, can't she stay a baby forever?

“Naomi only started walking a few weeks ago.” Naoya says as he walks over to the two, solely intending to accompany both and be there if Naomi were to fall, but he ends up leaning down to grab her hand instead, for as soon as he was near, she reached out for him.

A sight that almost made everyone's heart burst out of their chest at the sheer adorableness of it.

“Ho—how?” Hinata asks, still not believing her eyes.

“She just… pulled herself up one day, kept trying until she was able to do it, and the rest is history!” You happily recount her efforts, as well as the adorable pout she’d make when trying. “Whenever we tried to help her though, she always rejected us, guess she wanted to do it herself— she takes after her papa in that matter.”

Naoya chuckles; he won’t deny his stubbornness.

“Owww, I can’t help it, I need to hug her!!” Hinata cries, swiftly running over to Naomi and unwittingly startling Naomi, who cowered behind her dad soon after. A sight that effectively snaps Hinata out of trance, kneeling to her level to softly hug her and utter endless endless apologies. “I’m so sorry, Naomi-chan, I didn’t mean to scare you, please forgive me!”

She begs while kissing her cheeks, which at first confuses Naomi, enough to attempt to push Hinata away… until her gestures begin to tickle her, making her stop and giggle in turn, seemingly leaving all misunderstandings behind.

“I can’t believe she’s growing so fast…” Ren says, walking over to the rest and carefully pinching Naomi’s cheeks once Hinata frees her; this makes her giggle too. “It seems like only yesterday we were getting you ready to go to the hospital.”

“And now, she’s almost a year old.” Naoya concurrs, looking at you.

He too can’t believe that almost a year has passed since she arrived in this world, since she made their life happier—better. Truly, it almost seemed like a dream, however, the truth would prove much, much better this time around.

This wasn’t a figment of his imagination: this was his life. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“We need to prepare everything for her birthday!” Hinata declared. “I can already think of a few places we can do her party! How about it, Y/N? Picture this—”

“Let’s do a celebration at a time, Hinata.” Ren chuckles, you doing the same soon after, finding her enthusiasm amusing. “We’re still not even done with Christmas, let alone New year… Which makes me ask, where’s dad? Are we to eat without him? This is the first time he’s ever been this late…”

The look of concern you and your siblings direct at Naoya is what finally pushes him to disclose what he and Eiichi agreed to keep a secret.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell, but the reason why Eiichi-san is late is because he—”

“Ho, ho, ho!!”

A loud voice, followed by heavy footsteps making their way through the entrance are heard, followed by a soft thud and another cheer.

“Merry Christmas!!”

Everyone’s head swirls into its direction, expectantly hoping to see the one behind these unanticipated actions.

Yet, it’s only you who manages to recognize who it was, as well as the nature of their actions.

And boy, was it a surprise when the truth finally settled in.

“Oh my god…” it’s all you could muster in reaction as the guest continues on with their rally.

“I heard that here lived an adorable baby girl that behaved very well this year!” Santa Claus would continue to say, grinning as he took some presents out of the large bag he carried along and placed them underneath the tree, before turning around towards the intrigued, if not slightly embarrassed, family staring at him, searching for said girl. “And because she was such a good girl, I wanted to personally come here and give her her pres—”

But when his eyes finally fall onto Naomi, Santa Claus immediately goes silent, intently staring at her for a few seconds before coming to the same conclusion that had everyone in shock, eyes widening as he shrieks.

“SHE CAN WALK!???”

Any suspicions that the man dressed up as Santa Claus was in fact, your father, are quickly verified by his reaction, further cemented when he rushes over to her, swiftly picking her up in a hug to coo at Naomi’s advancements.

“Oh, Naomi-chan!! When did you begin to walk?!” He’d ask, feeling a combination of happiness, nostalgia, and even heartache—for he was both glad and sad that his grandbaby was growing up. “Had I known, I would’ve gotten you more presents!!”

Everyone knew that the man behind this amusing spectacle was none other than your dad, per usual goofy Eiichi nature, by this point. However, there was still one person that remained in doubt, and that would be none other than Naomi herself.

Even if she was an impressionable young child, there were still a handful of things that didn’t necessarily catch her attention; unless it pertained to those of her favorite characters, of course.

But returning to her distaste, the most noticeable icon of this festive season fell into that list; she just… didn’t like him. Ignored him whenever possible; yet, there was still a catch: if her favorite mascot was dressed as Santa Claus, then Naomi couldn’t have enough of him!

Neither you nor Naoya knew why she did so, but it just happened, and the two grew to accept that fact, just as everything else.

Unfortunately, it seems that both had forgotten to tell your father about this small detail, and what Eiichi hoped to be a heartwarming experience for his beloved granddaughter, soon turned sour, specially when her big round golden eyes began to water after noticing that no matter how much she tugs, this stranger was not letting her go.

“Oh, little pumpkin, no!” Eiichi gasps, feeling like absolute garbage when Naomi continues attempting to push him away. “It’s me! It’s grandpa!”

“There’s no way for her to know that—take the beard off!” Ren exclaims, and in one swift movement, Eiichi strips the white beard off his face, discarding it to the side and revealing his face for Naomi to see.

“See, little pumpkin? It’s me!” he repeats whilst frantically hoping that he hadn’t irrevocably messed up. “It’s me! Granpa!”

And as if she understood what he meant, Naomi finally glances back at him, staring at him for a few moments in what many considered both curiosity and fear… which slowly shifted into adoration once finally recognizing her beloved grandpa, and subsequently hugging him.

“Yes! I knew you’d recognize me!” Eiichi softly cries as he leans down to kiss the top of her head, making her giggle in response. Your heart melts at the sight of Naomi warming up to your father, while Naoya sighs, relieved that this didn’t escalate any further.

“Without the beard, it would be almost impossible not to.” Hinata teases, and your dad frowns, trying to understand what your sister meant—she and Ren only laugh.

“Ah, but my sweet adorable little pumpkin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Eiichi would continue to say, feeling very, very regretful for his actions. However, it seemed that Naomi no longer paid mind to that, giving the understanding that she knew it wasn’t intentional, or cared more to be with her favorite grandpa.

And while that went down, you look over to Naoya, moving closer to his ear to whisper:

“Is this what you were referring to?”

Naoya hums, nodding. You chuckle.

“I should’ve told him.” He says, and you give him a soft smile, squeezing his hand.

There was no way he could’ve known, but after this happened, alongside Naoya’s growing guilt, he began to believe that maybe he should’ve…

But truth to be told, Naoya didn’t have the heart to ruin Eiichi’s enthusiasm, after all, no one from the Zen’in clan bothered to care about anything but the bare minimum when it came to Naomi, while your father consistently went above and beyond for his family.

So because of that, when Eiichi told him of the little surprise he was preparing for his daughter, with such excitement that told your husband how much he wanted to do this … Naoya allowed him to go through with it.

Because at the end of the day, anyone that has your and Naomi’s happiness and safety in mind, he’ll always welcome—and he’s long come to see that your family wants nothing but that for the three.

“Does she not like Santa?” Ren asks now that the situation has calmed down.

“It seems so—it’s why we haven’t been able to get a picture of the two.” You explain, reminiscing how you’d have to cancel a photo appointment because Naomi didn’t want to be near Santa Claus, not even when you and Naoya were there.

“Ah, well, Santa is overrated anyways!” Eiichi says, more than ready to discard this silly costume if it meant baby Naomi would no longer be afraid of him.

“How… ironic of you to say that.” Ren adds with a chuckle.

“Unless you’re dressed as—“ you begin.

“Hello kitty.” You and Naoya speak in unison.

“Naomi really likes Hello Kitty.” Naoya finishes.

At the revelation, Hinata grins.

“You like cats too?” Your sister asks, lightly tickling Naomi, she giggles in response. “When you’re old enough, I’ll give you a cat—how about that, hm?”

“Ehh, I’ll hold that thought for now.” You intervene before Hinata could continue on with her promises. While you would’ve loved for your sister to spoil your daughter, two particular reasons pushed you to stop: first, this was a decision that should be previously consulted with the parents, and secondly, Naoya already planned to gift Naomi a kitty himself—one that would resemble the character as closely as possible—when she was old enough to take care of it.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself again, Hinata. There’s still gifts to open.” Ren says, gesturing over to the boxes underneath the tree, and those still inside Eiichi’s bag.

“Yes! I want my adorable granddaughter to open all of them first!” Eiichi would say, handing Naomi over to her father once she began to gesture her desire to be carried by him. The way she rests her head over his shoulder makes Naoya smile.

“But first, let’s eat dinner—I didn’t spend all this time preparing food for no one to take a bite!” Ren says, the group agrees, and soon, preparations for dinner begin.

Hinata would help you set up Naomi’s chair, placing it just between Naoya and you, while you went ahead to get your daughter’s food—the slow transition of feeding her with a cup instead of a bottle had just begun a few weeks ago, and with great feedback, you just hope it continued on steadily.

Eiichi, on the other hand, rushed to his bedroom to quickly change out of his costume and adequately help Ren serve dinner.

Once everyone was seated and with their respective plates, dinner finally began.

The evening would go on wonderfully, with everyone relishing on the delicious delicacy Ren had prepared, as expected, while sharing anecdotes that made you both laugh or fluster, depending on who was the one telling them: how your dad always managed to make everyone embarrassed is something that you’ll never figure out—certainly, a talent of his own—before moving onto comparing the similarities between Naomi and her parents once she does a particular gesture that Eiichi had to point out.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but I think Naomi is starting to take more after you in that aspect.” Naoya would tease.

“No, she does not!” you gasp, referring to the habit Naomi had of pouting when things didn’t go her way. Sure, you might’ve done it once or twice when you were younger, but…

No, surely not.

Unless…?

“Or does she…?”

“A bit. She has to take after you. I was never that cute when I was a kid.” He reiterated; you smile, trying to hide your blush.

“Really? I always thought she looked more like you.” You confess. Always hoped that she would…

“She looks just like the two, actually.” Eiichi added. “But I do have to say, that out of the two, Naomi looks a bit more like—”

“Naoya” an unaccounted voice coming from the entrance was heard, making those at the table quickly turn around to see who it was, even little Naomi, as if she knew that no one was expecting anyone else to show up —especially the one that after years and years of being invited, never attended.

“Satoru!” Hinata gasps, perhaps the most perplexed one out of the group; at one point she even felt as if had hallucinated seeing him there. “I didn’t think you—what are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting my other family! I know we’re not together anymore, but I still hold everyone dear, you know?” He jests and Hinata sighs. Seems that not even during Christmas time would the god’s honor your sister’s request of making Satoru a bit less annoying. Not that much, just… a little.

Truly, she was better off asking for literally anything else but a miracle.

“We weren’t even married…” Hinata murmurs, not that it mattered at that point anyways, less when Satoru moved on to greet Eiichi and Ren (who were rather amicable to say the least, still speechless for seeing him show up after years of absence) before stopping by you, Naoya, and Naomi—lips parting onto a grin when seeing the new family.

“And who is this? Chibi Y/N?? Wow, look at how much she’s grown! I still remember her when she was nothing but a little baby! How old is she now?”

“You’d know if you’d respond to my messages.” You respond, a smirk on your face as Satoru pouts. “Or come to the party I threw for her 6th month birthday…”

“Hey, I got her a gift! That’s bound to mean something, right?” Satoru pinches Naomi’s left cheek, causing her to frown and whine. “Ah, you’re just as moody as Naoya; Thank God she looks more like you, Y/N. Imagine if we’ve gotten two Naoya instead of you? The Zen’in would go insane!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Naoya frowns.

“Didn’t you just say she looked more like him?” you raise an eyebrow, Satoru shrugs.

“Huh, did I?” He feigns ignorance, you roll your eyes. “Must’ve slipped my mind… anyways, I got everyone presents!”

You now notice the bag he was carrying; didn’t seem that big, but it did look like it was full.

“Especially for chibi Y/N” Satoru hands you over the bag, which Naoya takes soon after standing up—your theories of the bag being full are proved right when your husband notices how heavy it was.

You sigh.

Even if Satoru is what many considered imprudent, he was still goodhearted. And so, you motion Naoya to take the presents to the tree.

“Thank you, Satoru. I’m sure Naomi will appreciate your gift.” You say, a smile on your face.

“If you didn’t get her anything weird, of course.” Ren adds. At the noise of his voice, Satoru can’t help but unintentionally tense up—your brother always had an effect on him that made him feel like a cornered kid. In that sense, everyone was relieved that there was one person that could ground Satoru to reality. “Unless…”

“No, of course not.” Satoru quickly says, laughing nervously. “Who do you think I am??”

Everyone remains quiet as they silently judge him—even little Naomi, who couldn’t possibly know what he was referring to, joined in on the bewildering scrutinizing crusade against him; there’s no doubt in his mind now that she is a L/N.

“Have you eaten anything?” You’d move on. “The food is still warm if you want some.”

“Sit down, I’ll serve you some.” Ren would say before Satoru could even answer, which prompted the Gojo heir to finally accept his offer and take the last available seat, the one besides your father.

Once getting his food, dinner would go as it went before, prompting more stories now that Satoru joined in, with the slight difference that Hinata was now the center of attention.

You undoubtedly knew that your sister was much more than she was letting on, but these anecdotes from when she was a student at jujutsu high were far better than you ever imagined; she sure had everyone fooled with the responsible and dedicated image she made for herself!

But even then, they’d have nothing on your father when he began to tell his own stories: who would’ve known that the goofy, lovable man that your father was had actually lived through his fair share of mischief? Seems that even after years of knowing him, there were still many things to discover about him!

It made you and Naoya wonder what kind of reaction Naomi would have once she learned of your own adventures; the thought that either of you (Or maybe even the two) could become the uncool parent makes you chuckle.

Maybe your dad was right, maybe this was some kind of rite of passage one must go through when becoming a parent.

After sharing enough anecdotes, now began the most exciting part of the night—opening the presents.

Tensions were already high when it came to the silent competition going on between your father and your husband, but with the unexpected addition of Satoru, this just raised the stakes: they all wanted Naomi to open their presents first.

Luckily, they were still able to listen to reason when you suggested that the best way to solve this was to let Naomi choose by herself, nothing of persuading her to choose theirs or anything of the sorts—simply letting her walk towards the box she found most interesting and let everything else fall into place.

It was endearing to see how happily she reacted to the fact that (mostly) all the presents underneath the tree were there for her, as well as the cheerful way she began to open them, alongside the help of her papa, of course, for she still wasn’t strong enough to do it herself.

You once considered your dad and mom to be a bit… well, exaggerated whenever they’d take endless pictures of you and your siblings when doing anything—but now that you and Naoya had Naomi in your life… their actions no longer seemed overstated as they once did. If anything, you grew to understand why they’d done so and if anything, it inspired you to do the same!

To see her chubby face beam whenever seeing her new toys and plushies was one you’d never replace for anything, more so when she got to see all of the presents her daddy got her.

No one knew Naomi better than her own father, thus every single thing Naoya got for her was to be Hello Kitty themed: from socks, to shirts, plushies and even accessories—anything that his baby wanted, he’d get. In all the possible variations of her favorite Sanrio character.

Which made Ren, Hinata, and your dad a bit nervous, for it seemed that Naoya had the gift department well covered, making it almost impossible to compete…

But you’d reassure them that Naomi, alongside you and Naoya, were wholeheartedly grateful for their attention and gestures, and that she’d love them all the same.

But outside of that, the thing that perhaps intrigued everyone the most was Satoru’s present. As previously stated, he had a tendency of gifting… Well, odd things, and that was the easy way to put it.

From objects that you have yet to find a use to, to things that you would rather die than to be seen in public with them, Satoru was unpredictable as unpredictable as he could be.

Thus, everyone understood why Naoya took it upon himself to open Satoru’s present, even if it made Naomi whine in response.

“I just gotta make sure there’s nothing wrong with it, little princess.” Naoya explains, hoping that this would ease Naomi’s rising irritation—it kind of did, but she’d only calm down when Satoru’s gift was eventually revealed:

A Digimon plushie, from the character known as koromon, to be precise.

“Huh, I guess you are capable of doing normal things.” Hinata would say, Satoru scoffs.

“Don’t you mean better things, Hinata?” He teases back, Hinata rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Satoru.” You say, looking at him. “But you know that in this household we only like Pokémon.”

“Not if I influence her early on!” Satoru grins—but really, he was just happy to see Naomi wholeheartedly enjoying his gift, which she latched onto as soon as Naoya handed it to her.

“As if I’d let you do that.” Naoya says. “Maybe if you had good taste in anime…”

Ren laughs. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Ah, stop it all of you… it was a nice gift.” Eiichi would intervene, making Satoru pout and cry, before rushing over to hug him.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he’d dramatically gasp, tightly holding onto your father. “I knew someone would appreciate my efforts!”

Eiichi presses his lips together before sighing. He’s long come to understand that it was better to not fight it than to do so, because whenever your dad managed to push Satoru away, he’d always come back, and stronger too.

But even with this, Eiichi was happy to have his family back together, reunited and having a good time: the one thing he always wanted for Christmas.

Everyone would continue on opening the rest of the presents, that is, until Naomi began to feel tired as seen by the way her eyes slowly blinked, yawning every so often, before leaning her head onto Naoya’s chest, breathing softly until she finally fell asleep.

At the sight everyone couldn’t help themselves from cooing, (albeit not too loud in fear of waking her up) as well as take it as a sign to call it a day; everyone had been up since early to get everything done, so it was only normal that they’d begin to feel a bit tired too, Naomi’s yawns were only there to make it more obvious.

“We can continue tomorrow.” Your father would say, referring to the left-over presents still underneath the tree. “It is kind of late.”

“And I still have to call Kanon.” Ren said, looking over to his clock—still a bit of time before she heads to sleep. “Think you can help me pick up, Hinata?”

“Yeah.” she nods, standing up.

“Let me help too.” You offer, standing up as well, he shakes his head.

“No, I’d rather not keep you away from Naomi.” He says. You frown, feeling as if you’ve barely done anything this year… “You can repay me tomorrow.”

“Alright, then.” you smile before sighing, looking over to Naoya carrying a deeply asleep Naomi. “Guess we’re off to bed.”

“Goodnight Naomi-chan!” Hinata whispers with a grin.

“Goodnight, Y/N, Naoya.” Ren adds.

“Goodnight!” Satoru waves, you way back before making your way over to your dad.

“Goodnight, dad. See you tomorrow.” you say, hugging him. “Thank you for what you did for Naomi, even though she got a bit upset. I’m sure when she’s a bit older she’ll come to appreciate it better.”

“Thank you, pumpkin. And I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“I know, and she knows that too.”

Naoya and you would then head back to the living quarters and into Naomi’s room, the one your father had prepared as soon as your pregnancy was announced, just in case it was ever needed—it didn’t take long for you to decorate it either— to get her changed into her pajamas and into her crib, underneath the warm blankets alongside her favorite plushies, before leaning down to kiss her head and wishing her a goodnight.

Naomi doesn’t respond, outside of a deep sigh and those soft snores that always make your and Naoya’s heart squeeze with adoration whenever hearing them; evidence that she had a tiring, yet fun day.

And as both continue to admire her, a feeling comparable to nostalgia begins to settle in both your hearts, with you being the first one to acknowledge it.

“Can you believe it?” you whisper, still looking at Naomi.

“What?” Naoya asks, leaning closer to you.

“That she's almost a year old.” You go on. “It’s been almost a year since she arrived in our lives… and now…”

“She can walk.” Naoya finishes. “... it almost feels… surreal, doesn’t it? I can still remember the day she was born like it was yesterday.”

As if it was only yesterday he was that lonely, sorrowful man seemingly destined to live out the same way the rest of his life… and now, he has a family.

“When did time go by so fast?” you ask.

“I don’t know.” He admits, taking your hands and intertwining it with his fingers. “I stopped caring after I met you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” you chuckle, looking at him.

“What reason do I have to count days, when I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“Naoya…” you murmur, blushing. “I… I guess to keep important dates…. Or something.”

Naoya was glad that the moonlight coming through the window wasn’t strong enough to show how flustered he truly was.

Taking a deep breath, he now looks at you.

“I still can’t believe I got to meet you, fall in love with you, marry you and now… have a family with you.” he starts. “I got to experience something I never thought I would; and in a way, I still can’t wrap my head around it. There are still moments where I want to pinch myself to see if this is all a dream, if you can believe that; But when I see you and our daughter and I know it’s not my imagination; because you and Naomi are far more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.

And today… just reminded me of how lucky and grateful I am to have both of you in my life and to have spent another holiday with you.”

It wasn’t your or Naoya’s first Christmas together—not the first one you’ve spent with your dad, or the Zen’in for that matter.

But it was certainly the first one both had spent as a family, enough reason to make it as special as possible.

However, that wasn’t the only reason why you allowed Naoya to do whatever he wanted this year, or why you asked him to spend Christmas with your family.

More than making this celebration special for Naomi… you intended to do it for him.

Even now, you could still hear it in Naoya’s words—the slightest hesitation that reveals he didn’t believe he’s received all these blessings; and not because he thought them incapable of occurring, but rather because…

He didn’t think himself deserving of them.

Naoya always foresaw that his life would continue on rather… uneventfully, going through the same vicious cycle of people that couldn’t really care less for him, or anything pertaining to him, and him believing the same of himself.

Until you’d come along—to show him that he too was deserving of love, and not only that, but that he was also capable of loving.

And creating something out of love.

A daughter, a baby girl: the biggest blessing he never thought he’d receive. One that while it saddened him to realize she’s growing up, he still couldn’t wait to see the kind of person she’d become, guide her to the greatness he just knows she’s destined to be, as well as be there in the moment she ever finds herself falling and catching her.

One that slowly began to teach him just how much love he was capable of harboring for others, as well as the limits he’ll go beyond just to ensure their happiness.

All the things he’s done, and will do for her, are nothing but the bare minimum; nothing but his way of protecting her, giving her a life vastly different from his so that she’d never have to suffer the same way he did.

But he knows that she will never go through the same things, because she has you as her mother.

And that is something he’ll never, ever be able to thank you enough for.

“I love you, Y/N.” Naoya would say. “And… Thank you for loving me. Enough to have a family with me.”

“Naoya… you never, ever have to doubt yourself deserving of this.” You say, gently placing your hands on each side of his face and resting your forehead against his. “You deserve all this, and more. You are a loving husband and the greatest father any child could ask for, and today you proved it—Even if you went a bit overboard with the presents.”

Naoya chuckles.

“Do you think we’re spoiling our daughter too much?” he asks.

“Undoubtedly. What are we even going to get her on her birthday?” you wonder.

“I can start with the moon.”

“Then I’ll see if I can get the stars.”

The two laugh together for a few moments before quieting down.

And in the silence of the night, their hearts reveal their deep feelings for one another.

“I love you, Naoya.” You begin, gently kissing his lips. “All that I want is the opportunity to spend this Christmas, and those to come, with you and our baby.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He pecks your lips once more. “You two are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know. Thank you for everything, Naoya…” you say, hugging him before gasping. “Oh! And merry Christmas! Can’t forget about that one, can I?”

Naoya chuckles as he pulls you into a tight hug, giving the top of your head a kiss before leaning down to rest the crook of your neck and melting against your warm embrace and scent.

It was his way to silently vow to never let you go; no matter what happens, no matter what is to come… He’ll never, ever let you, or his daughter, go.

Never.

A promise that would continue for the rest of his life underneath the wish of a prosperous holiday.

“Merry Christmas.”

the two got emotional at the end 🥺 nnghhhhh Naoya just can't believe he's spending an actual christmas with his family, happily you know?? aaaaaaaaaaaa man, i really got it bad for him.

anyways, I originally intended to end this with Naoya gifting Y/N a house because he felt like Y/N and Naomi would be better away from the Zen'in clan... but then Y/N would just go on saying that it would be too much of a hassle because of his duties as the heir, and because she'll miss her friends there (we're going with the notion that the Zen'in aren't as big a*holes as they are, maybe because Naoya managed to scare control them)

Outside of that, for their fellow presents Y/N got Naoya an Asuka figure to fuel his anime tendencies; while he got her some things he saw her ponder about days prior, alongside some special edition gengar they both had to keep hidden from Naomi lol.

🥺 I hope you all enjoyed this little thing I wrote. I shall continue writing more things, request to be precise, before heading back to my main fic :>

Thank you so much for your support ❤️❤️❤️

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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secretch4mber · 4 months ago

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spring 1986 - Nymphadora is home for the holiday

“Am I going to be burned off the tapestry?”

The sound of silverware stopped. Uncle Ted’s eyes widened behind his steaming cup of coffee, while Andromeda nearly choked on her toast. Cordelia felt her cheeks flush and shrank under the weight of three pairs of eyes now focused on her. She was sure she was going to be punished.

“Darling…” Andromeda was caught in a small coughing fit and quickly grabbed her cup of tea. “You won’t be.”

Cordelia frowned, still worried.

“How?”

“The house is yours now. I mean, it’s your father’s, but you’re the next owner on the list. No one can come in and decide to burn anyone off.”

Ted felt his heart clench as he saw Cordelia’s small shoulders instantly relax. How long had she been worrying about this? He also felt a pang of sorrow seeing his wife’s troubled expression—this must be bringing back bad memories for her.

“Mum, what’s the tapestry?” Nymphadora asked, surprised.

Andromeda looked at her daughter and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“In, uh, my family’s house, there’s a tapestry that shows the Black family tree. The ones who were cast out were burned off with a single flick of the wand.”

Dora frowned. This family was definitely crazy. She knew it wasn’t just because of the war that her parents had lived in hiding, at best, and underground, at worst, during the early years of her life. She suddenly realized that her mother and her new little sister probably had a lot of bad memories in common.

They returned to eating, but as the sound of silverware rose again, Cordelia’s small voice broke through once more.

“Am I going to be punished for asking that question?” She needed to know for sure.

“What?”

This time it was her uncle who responded, surprised. He and Andromeda had been careful, trying to make the little girl feel at home, but this had caught him off guard.

“Uncle Lucius always said it wasn’t good to ask too many questions. I couldn’t help it, so I was always grounded. Draco too.”

Andromeda reached across the table to take the little girl’s hand, pulling her out of her trance.

“In this house, no one is going to punish you for asking questions, Delia, okay?”

“I’d never leave my room if that was the case!” Dora added with a comforting smile.

Cordelia relaxed. Dora seemed so comfortable in this house and with her parents. She wanted to be like her. Maybe, after all, she could be? She’d been here a week, and her uncle and aunt wouldn’t have been able to pretend for this long. They were genuinely kind to her, doing everything they could to comfort and make her feel at ease. Cordelia even slipped into their bed at night when she felt too sad.

“It’s good to ask questions, you know? That’s how you learn,” Uncle Ted said with a smile, preparing another slice of toast. “You’re a smart little girl. No wonder you have questions, so feel free to ask them.”

Cordelia nodded as she finished her bite.

“I like it here.”

Andromeda had to grab her husband’s hand to keep herself from bursting into tears right then and there.

#andromeda tonks #ted tonks #harry potter oc #oc #wip #sirius black #sirius’s child #harry potter

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btcwriting · 1 year ago

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Longing

It is December 23rd.

Today my mother and I will head to another part of the state to pick up our aunt to join us for Christmas. This is a tradition that we have had since my aunt decided she no longer felt safe driving the long distance herself. Before then, we will finish cleaning the house to my mom’s specifications. We have been spending the better part of the last week cleaning the house, with every member of my family seeking relief in their own way during the chaos to try to keep our morale up despite the extreme stress this has been causing us for as many years as some of us remember.

I tend to spend a lot of time thinking. It is quiet, private, and I can steal many moments between tasks to sit and think to help my mood. Many topics have run through my mind over the week.

How many years has it been since we had snow on Christmas? Was it last year, or several years before that?

How many years will I have to work before I can move out?

Will I have enough energy to hang out with my friends for New Years?

Will I be able to keep up with the things that bring me joy in the next year?

How can I tell if someone is interested in dating me?

(Am I even dateable?)

I’ve been thinking about sledding often. Years ago, my family used to try to make a habit of going to the local elementary school when there was snow on the ground and sledding down the school’s steep hill. It didn’t always work, but it was always fun, whether there was two or six inches of snow on the ground. We haven’t tried to go sledding in years, and that fun tradition has fallen by the wayside, along with many others that I used to look forward to. Holiday traditions feel more like a duty than a joy, causing the season to feel tedious. I’ve found myself often this year peering out at our dead yard, and thinking about family and climate change.

Adulthood does few things as well as complicating your relationships. They take more effort to upkeep, more initiative, more things get in the way. I find myself being more critical of my relationships from the amount of life experience I have, especially those with my family. I’ve basically given up talking to my aunt much. Somewhere along the road it feels like she decided she didn’t want to change her views anymore, and trying to carry a conversation with her feels like a chore. Neither of us enjoy it. To actually have a discussion with my father instead of just being talked at I feel like I have to have a ten page paper written up with scholarly sources to even get him to consider my point of view. I try to remember times that he simply believed me in the past, or just listened to my perspective and took it to heart. I can’t summon any to mind since I graduated high school.

The strain weighs heavy on our household. By the winter solstice my brothers and I were ready to be done with the holiday season and move on. We were ready to have some time to recover and spend more time apart from each other. We know there will be some fun and joy along the way, there always is, but there’s an underlying tension that threatens to bubble up at the worst possible moment. We’ve seen it happen before and we know it will again, so we feel like we have to walk on eggshells and hope that we can get through the week without it blowing up in our faces. We are forced to ask ourselves: is this tension worth the brief moments of joy? How much longer do we have to worry about this? When will it change?

I try to catch the glimpses of joy that flit in and out of my week and hold onto them, so that I can remember them for next year. The food, the presents, the warmth, the thoughtfulness. How our parents let us celebrate in our own ways that they used to be against. The nostalgic movies, stories, and music that I get plenty of time to enjoy. How long my family manages to go without anyone yelling.

I often work to convince myself that this won’t be forever. I have trained myself to believe that all things will pass, even if some things need more input from me to change than others. I hold that hope that at some point, more of that joy can return, and maybe even go back more to the way things used to be. All I need is more… Stability. Money. Determination. Research. Time. Then things will be how I remember, and holidays will be something to be proud of again.

But for this year, we have more days of long nights, busy hours, and tight voices. More days where I am rushing around trying to please everyone without needing to take a while on my own to cry again. Telling myself that all we have to do is to make it to New Years, and we can hope that everything will be better next year than it was this year. As long as I make it through, I can pray that I can enjoy spending time with my family again.

Last night I dreamed of snow.

#original writing #tw christmas #tw holidays #sorry lads no fiction today. just some thoughts #had some pretty raw emotions today and they really got to me #sometimes you just gotta write almost a thousand words about your relationship to christmas I guess #wanted to post this a bit earlier but. well. I've been busy as maybe you can guess #hopefully this wasn't TOO flow of consciousness-y and it still makes sense #anyways. happy holidays and I hope you have fun. see you all on the other side!#really things aren't that bad I was just Feeling it

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fortheloveoffanfic · 2 years ago

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The Holiday Arrangement

Andy Barber x Reader

Author's note: Starting yet another series after I've been neglecting the others for weeks Masterlists Summary: When co-parenting during the holidays becomes difficult to navigate, Y/n brings a proposal to her ex-husband, Andy; spend Christmas together- for the sake of their daughter. Their already complicated arrangement becomes even more messy new memories dredge up buried feelings.

Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Y/n and Andy's daughter, Grace, wants things back to the way they used to be before the divorce and even if they can't admit it, her parents may want the same thing. Warnings: Angst.

“But I want Christmas to be the way it was before.”

Y/n sighed, soothingly rubbing Grace’s arm as she tucked her close. “Bunny,” she breathed as her lips fell into a deep frown, “I know its tough now that everything’s changing, but its not all bad. You get to decorate two trees and get to open presents twice; how cool is that?”

“But I don’t want everything to change,” her five year old bemoaned, and Y/n could feel her tears saturating the thick fabric of her sweater. When Grace pulled away from her embrace a little, her big, stormy blue eyes- which looked much like her father’s- were glassy and red rimmed, and it broke Y/n’s heart. The divorce had been tough on her and Andy, but it had been significantly worse for their young daughter, who simply couldn’t fathom why her parents weren’t together anymore.

“Doesn’t daddy love me anymore?” The question came out of nowhere and ripped Y/n away from her thoughts

“Of course he does!” Y/n gasped. That must have been the hardest thing to explain to Grace about the spilt; the rest could easily go over a five year old’s head and she and Andy had done their best to maintain a co-parenting relationship that was grounded in civility but there was no easy way to explain why a moving truck had come and taken all of her father’s things away, or why she could only spend half the week with him a his new place, a townhouse about twenty minutes away. “Bunny,” Y/n shifted so she could take her daughter’s small face in her hands, “Your daddy loves you more than anything else in the whole world.”

“Then why won’t he come home?” She sniffled, clumsily wiping salty tears off her cheek with the back of her small hand.

“Well,” Y/n paused, trying to explain it the way the stack of parenting books on her nightstand had suggested, “Daddy doesn’t live here anymore. He has a new house, remember? And sometimes you’re gonna be there with him, and sometimes you’re gonna be here with me.”

“But its not fair!” Suddenly, Grace pulled herself away from Y/n’s touch, “This is all your fault!” She fumed as a fresh wave of tears rained down on her full cheeks.

Her daughter’s words stung, but she knew that they were just the product of frustration and hurt. “Gracey,” Y/n stood as Grace stomped away from the sofa and towards the stairs.

“I want daddy!” She fumed, little stomps finally taking her to the top of the steps, while Y/n lingered at the bottom, hand grasping the wooden railing.

“I-” Y/n had just put one foot on the first step, when the doorbell rang, the sound traveling through the house and beckoned her to the front door. His timing was stellar; she rolled her eyes at the thought. At least he’d be able to get Grace to settle down a bit. Grace had been a daddy’s girl from the minute she could recognize the sound of his voice- months before she was even born- possibly another reason why she was taking their separation so hard.

With a huff of irrational irritation, Y/n trekked to the front door, yanking it open when she reached it. While she adored that Andy had been the best father a little girl could ask for, it did sometimes annoy her that he always got to be the one that swooped on hard days like a hero while she was always the bad guy; the one who made her eat the vegetables, the one who made her put her favorite blanket in the wash after she'd been playing with it all day, the one who split the family up. “You’re early,” she greeted with a grumble, trying to ignore what the sight of him still did to her.

That little ember in the center of her chest that burned a little brighter whenever they were in the same room.

“Nice to see you too,” Andy licked his lips, “Can I come in? Its fucking cold out here,” he scoffed with a little, dry chuckle, though, when her annoyance didn’t let up, Andy added, “But I’m good with freezing too.”

Y/n’s expression softened and she shook her head. Pulling the door open a bit wider, she gestured for him to come in, retreating down the hallway as he stepped inside. “Uh…Gracey’s upstairs,” she rubbed her sweater clad forearm as she finally admitted, “She’s having a bit of a meltdown.”

They’d both paused near at the breakfast bar, which was, at the moment, littered with bagged and boxed up Christmas decorations. Y/n had planned on putting up some of it during the three and a half days that Grace would be gone, while things like ornaments for the tree alone with some other things would wait for when she returned, so they could do it together. “Did something happen?” He furrowed his brows while absently picking at the edge of a blue tinted bag that held a wreath for the front door.

Y/n shrugged, “No….yes…she’s upset about you not being here,” he bent his head, an unconscious gesture prompted by guilt, “She doesn’t understand what’s going on,” Y/n swallowed thickly as she blinked back moisture, “She says its my fault.”

“Its not,” Andy reassured sympathetically, reaching out to touch her forearm, “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n fibbed with a nod. Truthfully, sometimes it did feel like her fault; she was the one that initiated the divorce proceedings in the first place. Andy had begged her to work with him on fixing things, arguing that they loved each other, but in the end, Y/n had been the one to put her foot down and insist that love wasn’t enough anymore. She remained steadfast in the belief that relationships- and marriages, by extension- couldn’t survive on just love. Honesty, trust and emotional availability was important too;

You couldn’t just love someone, you had to let them get close enough so they’d know you did- not freeze them out.

“She’s upstairs,” Y/n stepped away from his touch, and awkwardly, Andy retracted his hand and stuffed it in the pocket of his dark jeans, “She wants you, so maybe you should….”

“Yeah, of course,” Andy nodded, brushing past her to get to the stairs, though, pausing when he noted a box of string lights and garland that were usually fitted to the roof and around the windows, “I can put those up for you, if you want,” he gestured to the box.

“No its okay,” Y/n waved dismissively, “I’ve already got someone coming over tomorrow to do it.” It was in fact and outright lie; there was no one coming over, Y/n hadn’t even thought about how she’d get them up, it wasn’t like she had any interest in getting up there herself. “But thanks.”

Andy’s hopeful expression fell, but he didn’t protest, instead continuing towards the stairs and adding as he did; “Alright well….if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Mhm,” their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, she considered telling him the truth. But then he turned his face away and carried on up the stairs, leaving Y/n to head back towards the kitchen and making a mental note to ask her friends if they knew anyone that could do it in such short notice.

Not really knowing what to do with herself, Y/n tried to busy her hands by ‘organizing’ some of the decorations in the boxes and storage bins, a pretty useless feat considering they'd been organized before she’d put them away after last Christmas. Still, she carried on, coordinating figurines and ornaments based on different themes. Y/n was just about to transfer a Santa Claus figure decked off in blue and silver when two pairs of footsteps ended in two familiar figures pausing at the landing. Andy with Grace's pink, princess print bag in hand and her daughter, with tear stained cheeks and her favorite stuffed toy clutched close to her chest.

"Do you have something to say to mommy?" Andy encouraged, affectionately touching the top of Grace's head.

After a moment of shuffling her feet, clad in bright shoes that Andy must have put on for her before heading downstairs, Grace approached. Y/n moved around from behind the counter and dropped to her knees so she and their little one were at eye level, just as they were within six inches of each other. "I'm sorry, mommy," Grace mumbled meekly, "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I know, Bunny. Sometimes its hard not to when we're feeling big things, huh?" Y/n frowned, reaching out to brush a few strands away from Grace's cheek and she nodded stiffly, "Can I have a hug?" Grace nodded again, before diving towards her chest and throwing her arms around Y/n's neck. In return, Y/n flattened her palms against Grace's back, holding her in a tight hug.

They stayed like that for a moment, until Y/n realized that she was cutting into Andy's time with Grace. "I'm sure your daddy has a lot planned for this afternoon," Y/n sniffled softly as she pulled away. She'd never admit it, but she missed being a family; she still loved Andy and a very small part of her still wished they could have worked things out- that he could have let her in.

"Uh, yeah," Andy cleared his throat, "I don't have any decorations," which was understandable since he'd only moved out just before they'd started proceedings, about ten months earlier, "So we're gonna go shopping, at the Christmas village," the one they used to go to together every year since Grace was born, she'd planned on taking her the next week, but knew that it wouldn't have been the same without Andy. Presumably noting the falter in her expression, Andy hastily offered, "Do you wanna come with? We can wait for you to get ready."

Before Y/n could respond, Grace's face lit up and she jumped excitedly, "Please come mommy." Her big eyes were alight and her cute smile was broad, and when Y/n caught Andy's eyes, she thought there was something in them, something that resembled a little spark of hope. She didn't want to disappoint them.

But she couldn't stand to confuse Grace either. Seeing them together, pretending to be a perfect family only to separate again by the evening- especially so soon after the divorce- couldn't be good for her.

"You know," Y/n sighed, glancing at the disarray; boxes cluttering the counter and dining table, huge bags on the floor and an undecorated tree in the living room, "I have a lot to do here," which she could probably get done the next day, "And I have some work that I've gotta send to the office, maybe next time."

"Please mommy," Grace pouted.

It broke Y/n's heart to turn her daughter down but it felt like it would be the right decision in the long run, "Not today Bunny," she walked over to Grace, who was standing close to Andy's side, "But I promise we'll do something fun when you get back, alright."

"Fine," Grace grumbled, averting her gaze, and when Y/n bent to peck her forehead, she pulled away and stomped off, that time in the direction of the door.

"This could have waited, and you know it," Andy hissed venomously, clenching his jaw as he turned away to catch up with Grace.

"Andy-"

"I don't have time for this," he huffed, shaking his head, before pausing for a few seconds, "You know, I know you’ve got your issues with me, but she shouldn't suffer because of that."

"That's not what this is," she followed him down the hall, catching a glimpse of Grace standing at the door, waiting for Andy.

"Yeah?" Andy scoffed, helping Grace into her puffer coat, "Well that's what it feels like," he said, before pulling the door open and taking Grace's hand as they headed out.

After strapping Grace into her car seat, Andy piled into the driver’s side with a sigh. It was obvious that she was upset about Y/n declining to join them at the Christmas village, and admittedly, he was hurt too- his hurt usually had a way of coming off as anger, and judging by the way Grace had reacted, it was an inherited trait. Andy hadn’t meant to be so harsh with Y/n, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was putting their problems above what Grace wanted and it stung. Their daughter should always come first.

Of course, Andy would never, ever even think that Y/n was a bad mother, if anything, he sometimes thought that she was the better parent. She was the patient one, the nurturing one, the one that had read all the parenting books she could put her hands on; Y/n was an excellent mother and it wasn’t a secret that she made him a better father. But she was also mad at him, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, or maybe ones he never tried to; the papers had cited irreconcilable differences, her lawyer had called him distant and emotionally unavailable.

Andy happened to think he was plenty available, emotionally and otherwise. Though something in the back of his mind did sometimes protest that he should have tried harder, maybe he should have agreed to counseling, like she wanted.

As he turned onto the main road, Andy glanced into the rear view mirror, catching Grace’s evident despondence as she played with the floppy ear of her stuffed bear. Hoping to cheer her up, he tapped a few icons on the car’s music system and scrolled through a couple playlists until he found one they’d made together the last time he’d had Grace; a collection of Christmas songs that she liked. “Come on, kiddo,” he tapped his fingers against the wheel in time with the Andy Williams tune, “You love this one.”

Grace didn’t answer, instead turning to look out the window. Not knowing how else to engage her, at least while driving, Andy started singing along; loudly and off key. “It’s the holiday season, and Santa Claus is coming round!” When he checked the mirror again, Andy caught her fighting a grin, “Really gonna make me sing alone, huh?” He teased before continuing, “Alright. It’s the holiday season and Santa Claus has got a toy for-”

“Every good girl and good little boy! Santa’s a great big bundle o’joy!” When Grace finally joined in, dancing excitedly in her seat, Andy grinned broadly.

Thankfully, her cheerful mood lasted for the rest of the ride to the park, where the fair had been set up. Even after he’d backed his Audi into a spot between a red jeep and a black station wagon, Grace kept singing and he waited until Frosty the Snowman was finished before shutting off the engine and getting out. “Alright,” Andy began, undoing the buckles of her car seat, “What do you wanna do first? Decorations or feed the reindeer?”

“Umm,” Grace hummed as Andy set her on the ground, fixing her hat before shutting the door and taking her hand, “Feed the reindeer!” She beamed, all traces of her former upset completely evaporated.

“Great choice, Bunny,” Andy chuckled, leading her towards the entrance. Just ahead of them, was a young family; a toddler and an older kid about Grace’s age accompanied by a young couple. They looked sweet and happy, and reminded Andy of the kind of life he’d wanted with Y/n; before their marriage had taken a turn for the worst, they’d been talking about having another baby- they could have been that family.

But they weren’t.

The reminder was enough to have his shoulders slumping and his expression falling; he still wanted that with Y/n, even if they were divorced. With a well hidden frown, Andy held onto Grace’s hand and led her past the security while trying to shake off the fact that he wasn’t yet over his ex.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x female reader #the holiday arrangement

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curdledmelk · 2 years ago

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We all have heard about Werewolf!Steve but may I please bring forward Witch!Steve to the conversation:

Alice Howe did not want to talk about her childhood or the family she distanced herself from after marrying Richard Harrington. When asked she would mention finishing school and growing up with old fashioned values, never giving more details and certainly not mentioned the talents her and the women of her family possessed. It was not that she gave up magic all together, of course not it would be foolish to not use all tools at your disposal to keep the life you have made for yourself, but she keeps it around in small ways. Using spells to keep her house tidy and in order, potions she can pass off as home remedies secrets sthat her mother taught her. And if she was being honest, she was relieved to find out that her first born had in fact been a son. She swears that she would have loved the baby either way but she was hoping for a boy. A boy meant her secret could be safe, Magic was rarely passed down to boys (something about dominant and recessive genes) but then Steve grew. When the boy was about three Alice started to notice him imitating her movements as he watched his mother cast wordless spells that moved dishes around the kitchen into the cabinets, evaporating water off the recently washed plates. At first she thought nothing of it, there was little chance that anything would come of it but then when Steve was about five, she realized she was wrong. It would turn out that by some strange twist of fate that Steve was born with the gifts that so many of Howe Family had possessed, evident in little ways like teddy bears and blocks levitating an inch above the ground before falling back down and it is after witnessing that does Alice make the chose to stop using her powers in front of her son. She chooses not to tell him about the power he was born with, thinks if I don’t teach him he won’t learn and the problem will go away and in someways it does. Steve doesn’t learn any true spells and yes, sometimes things will happen when the boy gets emotional but nothing too out of the ordinary. Sometimes there’s a little zip of electricity that feels like a static shock when touches something while too excited, a lamp might flicker slightly when he stubs his toe.

But then Steve turns ten and it’s the first time his parents decide that he’s old enough to be left alone while they attend a conference over a long weekend. The boy doesn’t know why he’s looking around the basement, it just felt like something was calling to him and packed away amongst the holiday decorations, old camping gear, and snowsuits, he finds this old wooden chest. He feels weird looking at it, like if he were to open it would alter the course of his life forever, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should. And so he does. At first glance the contents of the chest seem to be just old Halloween decorations, dusty leather bound books of spells and potions with a small blacken and tarnished metal cauldron, but then Steve opens one of the books and sees in a crooked version of his mother’s neat looping penmanship “Property of One Miss Alice Howe.” He can’t tell you why he starts to read them, maybe it’s to feel closer to the mother that seemed so distant or maybe it was just because they looked cool or maybe some third option, all he would be able to tell you is that it just felt right. Then one day while Steve is home alone during that stretch of time where school has ended but his parents have not returned home from work, he tries one of the spells he read about in his mother’s old school books just to see what would happen. And it is then, sitting on his bed with the door locked shut does Steve learn that his mother has given him more than he could have ever thought. Steve was able to use Magic, like actual magic. Steve was a Witch.

He wants to talk to his mom about it but he wasn’t supposed to find these things and who knows how she would react, so he hides. Hides the leather books on his shelf in the dust jackets of old hardcovers, hides the cauldron with a carefully stacked wall of folded clothes in his closet. He teaches himself in secret, he makes rules for himself. Only reading the books in his room so no one can read over his shoulder, only practicing spells in the house when he’s sure his parents won’t be coming home, and during those stretches of time between business trips he sneaks into the woods, out to skull rock and practices under the cover of the forest at night. Steve never thought that he was smart when it came to school but this made sense, he finally feels like he gets something.

As his skills grow over the years he becomes more sure of himself, more confident, and he starts to bend the rules. Using magic in subtle ways to mess with the other team during sports, making a player on the court stumble so his team gets the ball after an unfair call, makes sure the right fielder when the bases are loaded and it’s the bottom of the ninth, add a small amount of a potion that allows him to breath underwater to his water bottle for swim meets not enough to make a huge difference but just enough to not phase him when he accidentally inhales some of the chlorinated water when his lung capacity fails him. He’s not hurting anyone and the books are useful, especially when it comes to the idea of crafting an image. Potions for hair and skin care, spells that cover your imperfections. So while he bends his rules, he adds to them as well. No magic to cheat on tests, nothing that can change other peoples’ appearances. But sometimes he wonders what would happen if he stopped… if he didn’t use magic to keep his images King Steve, Steve “The Hair” Harrington? Was his charming personality real or just an illusion?

Then he meets Nancy, and Barb goes missing, his parent’s business trips go on longer and longer, the fight with Jonathan, and then the Demogorgan. And so he starts honing in on anything he can find for protection, for healing, for defense and he just wants some normalcy back in his already weird life. So yeah it’s Halloween, he wants to be a dumb kid and go party and have fun. He accidentally makes Nancy spill the red punch on herself and if she would just let him help her he would have been able to get the stain out but he’s stumbling and trying to be discreet about the spell and then “It’s Bullshit, all of it. Bullshit.” And he doesn’t want to break, not there in that bathroom in that house with all those people, it’s to dangerous to risk. So he gets out, he leaves, makes sure Nancy can get home safe but he leaves. Parks his car by the quarry and lets himself break, the man made pool of water rocking with unnaturally violent waves that crash against each other as the boy cries.

And then he’s protecting the kids from the demo dogs, every incantation of protection, defense, and god forbid healing that he’s ever learned flutter at light speed through the back of his thought like a Rolodex attached to a power drill.

And he meets Robin and he feels like she has this beacon about her that he can’t put his finger on but mistakes for a crush. And he tells her while sitting on that men’s bathroom floor, she tells him about Tammy Thompson and later notices a sort of amber glow to her eyes in moonlight as they drive the convertible and just chalks it up to drugs and last parts of his brain still switching from romantic to platonic love. But he notices it when they work the late shift at Family Video and during movie nights till one night he asks about it. And she tells him about being a werewolf and for the first time Steve tells someone that he’s a witch.

And then he meets Eddie, not Eddie “The Freak” Munson but Eddie. And then Eddie dies, and Steve has to get Dustin to leave, to get him safe. It is in the lull of the days after the Battle that Dustin finds out about Steve’s gifts and begs for Steve to find some way to bring Eddie back. And Steve wants to break, not in the way he did on Halloween two years ago but in a different way, a way that he doesn’t know that he can recover from. He can’t promise Dustin anything more than he’ll try. Necromancy is not for the faint of heart but, after everything the nineteen year old has seen, he would assume he’s not included in that category. The young man ventures into the Upside Down to find the fallen party member, no clue of if his plan will even work but he’s going to try and try like hell. He finds the older boy’s body, his eyes welling up with the tears he had refused to shed and he apologizes, for everything, for being an asshole in high school, for leaving him here, for him having to get mixed up in this, for not being there to protect him, and as he lets the tears fall, he promises that he is going fix this, that he will fix this. The ritual is performed, Steve brings a man back to life, and Eddie is the third person to learn Steve’s secret.

Something must have gone wrong with the spell though. Eddie is back and while he is still Eddie, he’s just different now. His senses are sharper, he’s stronger, he’s…. he’s a vampire. Not that Eddie minds, says that it was a sort of consolation prize for, you know, dying. Steve however, does mind. Blames himself for messing up the spell, for turning Eddie into a monster and is sure that Eddie only hangs out with him because of some fucked up power imbalance that comes with bringing someone back to life. But he hasn’t turned Steve away yet, so like a stray that has been fed, he keeps coming back.

The truth is that Steve likes Eddie, likes hanging out with him, likes showing off the stupid little tricks he’s learned to do with his powers, likes how he comes alive onstage with his band, likes that he’s a little too loud when he’s excited and talks with his hands and has issues with personal space. He likes being with Eddie and one night it hits him. They’re hanging out, watching a movie when Steve looks over at Eddie, profile illuminated by the glow of the screen giggling at the way a background actor is apparently trying so hard not to stare at the camera, and he thinks “god I want to kiss him.” The boy freezes, his eyes wide at his own thoughts and as if he can sense the stutter in Steve’s heartbeat, Eddie turns to face him when something in the other boy snaps. Next thing Steve knows he’s kissing Eddie and Eddie is kissing him back and he doesn’t want the moment to end. But the light from the tv goes blue and Steve yawns into Eddie’s mouth which causes the older boy to call it a night, carrying them off to bed. In the morning, Steve wakes up curled into the other boy’s side and smiles softly cuddling closer as he drifts back to sleep.

#steddie #witch!steve #werewolf!robin #vampire!eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #well fanfic like musings #I was going to expand but I don’t want to think about the angst I was considering

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snowblossomreads · 3 years ago

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Holiday Promise

Summary: A holiday night in with Y/N and Severus. Fluff with no direction really just a bit of banter and narration!

Pairing: Fem Prof. Reader x Severus Snape

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Hello!! It's the holiday season and with all the fluffy holiday stories going on I wanted to try my hand at something! I hope you all enjoy it as I've come to absolutely adore Alan, his characters, and especially the Snape fandom this year! Let me know how you all like it and your thoughts!

Y/N had known from the onset of the conversation that they had, that it was going to be uncomfortable, to say the least, for him to have her in his home on Spinner’s End. From everything, he had told her about his unhappy childhood there and how he only occupied the house during the summer break if he absolutely had to. She was sure he would object to any idea that dealt with her staying there with him.

So it was no surprise when he at first vehemently protested against the idea of them staying there for the holidays when she brought it up, as she was not wanting to spend the break at Hogwarts when she learned that her parents had up and left for the Canary Islands for a Christmas rune excavation. Good for them, they always did prefer the warmer weather.

When she had mentioned it to him he had immediately shot the idea down, as he felt that their relationship with each other would be sullied if he brought her there.

There was too much misery in that place and whenever he went back, it was as if he was sucked into a negative spiral not able to escape it until he left that place. And he did not want to bring her into such an environment. She was too precious to him, too gentle, too bright, for him to want to take her to a dreary place like Spinner’s End and dull her shine.

But, she thought otherwise and was very much determined to spend it away from the castle and with him. And after a week of her wearing him down about it, he finally let out a long sigh and relented, agreeing to spend Christmas with her at his house on the condition that she would be taking over his night patrols for the first two months when they came back. Even with those terms she couldn’t help but let out a cheerful sound as she went to hug him, ecstatic about the turn of events.

“I promise that after this holiday our time together is the only thing you'll think about whenever you’re there!”

And she kept that promise.

From her decorating the little sitting room with an artificial Christmas tree adorned with lights and charmed ornaments, which surprised him when he came back from a nearby village from picking up some items.

To the stockings that hung against the fireplace, that while usually never used since he wasn’t there during the winter, had been home to a blazing flame each night when they would spend time on the couch just talking, reading, or simply being with each other.

Just like they were now with Severus laying on his back propped up a bit with a pillow behind his head, and Y/N who was on top of him, her head just beneath his chin and her arms by his shoulder.

They had been lounging for a while after having had a delicious dinner courtesy of Severus and his hidden cooking talents. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, when it came to mixing and preparing ingredients to make a wonderful concoction, of course, he would be amazing at it.

“Oh, if you’re feeling up to it tomorrow evening, do you think we can go into London and look at the muggle Christmas markets?” She asked as she went to lift her head to look at Severus who had opened his eyes and peered down at her with those inky black orbs and added, “of course only if you’re up to it, we can wait until it’s late when most of the people are heading home so it won’t be too crowded.”

He seemed to be in thought for a moment before he gave a curt nod.

“I’m not opposed to that if you that’s what you want Y/N but,” he murmured, voice deep and languid which quite soothed her, as she laid her head back down on his chest to enjoy the rumble of it as he continued, “I believe you told me you had much to bake tomorrow, I don’t want you to tire yourself out if that’s the case.”

“Ah you’re right, and I was going to make us a nice dinner too since you treated us to such a delicious meal tonight! How about the next day then? I don’t think we were planning anything that night right?”

“No...I don’t believe we had anything planned,” emphasis on the ‘we’ part as he paused for a second before he brought up the outing she was supposed to be having that day, “but are you not still meeting with your friend that day at Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, but it will only be during the day and we shouldn’t be doing any strenuous shopping or anything.”

Severus sat up from his reclined position and looked at Y/N who met his gaze and she could see a bit of concern in his eyes and a slight downward tug on his lips which made her also sit up to look at him.

“You’re okay with that right? I can move my plans around if I need to.”

She was a bit worried but only for a moment as he shook his head no, assuaging any nervousness she had. Lifting his hand and placing it on the back of her hand as if he was cradling it, Y/N let out a soft noise of content while burying her head back into his neck.

“No need for that Y/N, but I don’t want you to tire yourself out. If memory serves me correctly, was it not you who said that the holidays were for resting?”

She hummed a sound of agreement against his neck before going to look up at him from her position, a tiny smile on her lips before moving to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. A bit caught off guard by her gesture, he tilted his head slightly to the side, his dark hair falling a bit against his cheeks as he did that.

It was sweet of him honestly to not want her to tire herself out during the holidays and just relax as she had indeed mentioned. But, she had to admit while most of the year she had a low social battery and needed to rest for weeks after one outing, there was something in the air during the festivities that opened up some untapped reservoir of energy. Must be magic of course.

“Well you know me, I’m a bit of a ball of contradictions sometimes.”

She wore a little grin at that and Severus could only raise his eyebrow as that was an understatement and he bit back with a teasing,

“Only sometimes?”

He earned a playful swat to the chest for that one, and that got her a soft huff and an offended look from him in return. But he wasn’t at all mad at her, and truth be told, he always found it hard to be mad at her for anything though he did admit he would lose his temper about some things but never at her.

“Also it’s a bit ironic that you’re the one chastising me about getting rest, considering you’re not in bed until two am most weekdays!

He rolled his eyes at that even though it was true, sometimes he just got lost in whatever task he had been performing, and when he looked up it was way past midnight. That or Y/N would show up and drag him to bed with her complaining about how cold it was without him and that he needed to get some sleep every now and then.

He always rolled his eyes at her whenever she did that, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes enjoy her complaints and would tease her about it sometimes.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

After finishing up their little discussion about sleeping habits and moving on to the topic of the Christmas market trip, they both agreed that they would go after dinner the night before Christmas Eve. And with that planned, both of them fell comfortably back into their reclined position as they continued to enjoy the quiet evening.

One of his arms was wrapped loosely around her waist while the other alternated between stroking her back or head. And for her, she had happily reburied her face back into the crook of his neck while letting her hand fiddle with the wool sweater he was adorning.

Occasionally they would break the silence with mummers about something that they remembered happened and thought the other would find amusing, or if Y/N felt a jolt of mischief in her, she would pull herself up a little to give Severus a soft peck on the lips, or the tip of his nose.

When he would ask what she was up to and give her that raise of an eyebrow, she would just smile bashfully up at him as if she didn’t just kiss him and nestle her head into his shoulder or neck. He chuckled at that and would reciprocate her actions by leaving a quick kiss on the top of her head that made her snuggle impossibly closer to him.

So as the night began to draw to a close, and their chatter started to slow with the majority of the sounds that filled the room coming from the crackling of wood in the fireplace. Severus opened his eyes slowly and peered down at Y/N whose back rose and fell at a steady pace which signaled she had dozed off.

He took in how delicate she seemed when she slept, and he felt that familiar warmth of contentment stir within his chest. Something that he didn’t know he could feel after so long. But as he gazed upon her relaxed features and just quietly did some self-reflection about the few days they had already spent with each other. He came to the conclusion that she was right.

That since they had been there, he didn’t once think about all the negative things that came up when he set foot in the place. And whether it was because they were always doing something and it helped keep his mind off things, or if it was just her presence and the banter they would constantly have, he just couldn’t help the small quirk of his lips.

Even knowing that he would have to wake her up soon so that they could go to bed, all Severus could do was lean down and place a kiss on top of her head. Maybe later, but for now he would let her rest and so would he.

#severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #severus snape x you #severus x you #severus snape fic #blossoms writing

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #marvel

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corpsedaydream · 4 years ago

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hi i love ur work so much and i had a request! corpse and reader are dating and she isn’t necessarily what fans think his type is. she isn’t really goth and doesn’t watch anime so when she sees corpse talking about e girls and goth girls and all that stuff she feels left out and like she isn’t who he wants to be with, and when he’s streaming with her (she’s also a youtuber), he’s like talking about an anime show and reader feels left out and the whole live chat is just saying how she doesn’t belong there and that corpse could do so much better ect. so she has a breakdown in the bathroom and he reads the comments about her and gets upset and defends her which ends with him cuddling the fuck out of her and kissing away her tears idk just angst with a fluffy ending please i’m desperate 😔✌️💗

ooooooooooof i put myself in all the feels writing this and now i’m meant to just go to sleep like i’m not feeling some type of way smh

but!!!!!!!! i like how it turned out hehe, hope u enjoy

word count: 1.5k

_________________________

beach baby

Your freckles were a lot more prominent lately, but that was always something that happened during this time of year when summer was quickly approaching. As much as you felt a little insecure by the the little marks that were dotted all over your body, it came hand in hand with the excitement of being able to do all of your favourite things that just felt better to do in summer.

You were a beach baby through and through. Growing up, you lived in the one house your whole life that was right by the beach and when your family went on holidays, it was always to a holiday house that was by another beach. You could swim before you could walk or talk. When you did learn how to walk, your parents realised they had to keep an extra close eye on you at the beach because you’d always run down to the waves, not realising the danger in your toddler years. When you watched The Little Mermaid for the first time, you begged your mother to turn you into a mermaid so you could live a life under the sea. When you were a kid getting picked up from school, your after school activity was going to the beach. Whenever the school swimming carnival rolled around, it was always you who got nominated to do the races. When you were a dramatic teenager and found out the boy you liked kissed someone else, you went to the beach and wrote his name in the sand just to watch it get washed away by the sea.

Your life had always involved the beach and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Whenever the idea of falling in love with someone popped into your mind, you always thought it would happen with the beach involved in some way. And there had been a few surfer boys you’d had flings with, but none stuck. They never really made an impact on you.

But Corpse had.

The two of you were an unlikely pairing, the absolute definition of opposites attract, but it worked.

You’d met at a mutual friends house by chance and there was an undeniable spark from that very first moment.

“Sitting under the moon is a lot better than the sun.” The two of you had found yourselves in a light hearted argument that very first night. After getting introduced and realising there was a pull between you both, he had eventually grabbed your hand and brought you to come sit up on the rooftop with him.

“What? No way, dude.” You shook your head and laughed, he was everything you weren’t but all you wanted. “The moon is so pretty,” You agreed with him, “but the sun makes you warm and it’s so pretty when the sky is all blue with a couple of cute, white fluffy clouds. That’s the perfect weather to be out and about.”

“If you like going out and about.”

“You don’t like going outside?”

“Nah,” Corpse hesitated, contemplating on how honest he should be with the girl he’d just met but was feeling so comfortable around. “I can’t handle the world sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. If someone came up to me and said you can spend your whole life under water as a mermaid but never be able to come back on land, I’d seriously consider.”

“Even after meeting me?” The tone shifted back to the playful flirting and you were grateful for it.

“Shut up and admire your moon.”

“I will, after all, the night sky is far superior.” He was holding firm in his opinion.

“I think it’s all really pretty.” You said honestly, and it was the truth. You were just as hypnotised by a moonlit sky with stars sparkling as you were with a daytime sky.

“I think you’re really pretty.”

He’d had your heart from that moment.

You’d actually gone to the beach today and spent a solid few hours there with friends and it had put you in such a blissful state. Making the drive to your boyfriends place so enjoyable, because you were also very excited to see him.

He’d left the door unlocked when you messaged him saying you were on your way. So when you arrived you let yourself in, shutting and locking the front door behind you, knowing Corpse was streaming and you were going to join him.

“Hi.” You whispered, opening the door to his office, not knowing if you should let your presence be known to stream yet. You always felt a little nervous when it came to his fans. The first time you joined him in a stream, all you could concentrate on was the amount of messages that stated how you were exactly wrong for Corpse. How you were the opposite to who he should be with. From there, it only progressed. You saw the hate comments and negative things that some of them had to say about you and it hurt.

“She’s here!” Corpse announced, so at least it was known to them that you would be joining him at some point, they had some warning and you hoped it meant you would receive a warmer welcome. “Hey, baby, get over here.” He opened his arms and you sat down on his lap, greeting him with a kiss before you both brought your attention back to his stream.

“Hi guys!” You greeted the stream, cautiously looking over the influx of messages, waiting for something negative but it seemed they were asking you about something. “I can see you guys asking, but I don’t really know what you’re talking about...” You trailed off before looking at Corpse. “What were you talking about?”

“Oh...” He started, “we were talking about an anime. (Y/N) isn’t really into anime, guys.” He laughed and you smiled but you could feel the anxiety start to build, you just knew this was going to cause a wave of hate to you.

“Hey, I loved Sailor Moon and Pokemon when I was a kid.” You attempted to make a joke, thinking it would gain approval of his fans but it only caused them to react worse.

The chat started moving faster, messages of,

‘LMAO of course she doesn’t know what we’re talking about’

‘Did she really just say Pokemon? She’s fucking basic’

‘What a fucking dumbass’

‘Dump her ass Corpse’

‘Ugh why the fuck did she come?’

‘WE DONT WANT YOU HERE’

‘Fuck off (Y/N)’

‘Corpse you can do so much better’

You could feel the tears welling up, each comment being another jab and you knew you had to leave or you would cry right there and they’d all hear just how they had gotten to you. Quickly, you got up, ignoring Corpse calling after you and trying to reach for you to bring you back to him.

Making your way to the bathroom, you washed your face in an attempt to calm yourself but it didn’t work at all. So instead, you sunk to the floor and let yourself cry. You couldn’t understand why they hated you, you loved him so much for exactly who he was, just as they did. Couldn’t they be happy if who he was with made him happy? Negative thoughts were swirling your mind. They were getting to you.

“(Y/N)?” Corpse cracked the door open, his face full of worry as he stepped inside the bathroom. “Oh, baby, hey, hey,” He was by your side in a moment, his hands finding your sun kissed cheeks as he left a kiss against your head before finding your vision. “I saw what they were saying. They’re wrong.”

“But what if they’re not, Corpse?” You couldn’t help but to argue back. “You deserve someone better for you.”

“Stop it, stop right now.”

“No, I mean, look at us... We’re complete opposites.”

“And so?” He responded. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“That’s all that matters.” He told you, and you knew he was right, it was just the hate comments were really playing on your mind.

“Is it, though? Don’t you want someone else?”

“No. Fuck no.” He wrapped his arms around you then, he knew you really needed reassurance right now and he was going to give it to you. “You’re fucking perfect, baby. My beach baby, I only want you.” He told you, bringing you onto his lap once more, only now you were on the bathroom floor. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, needing to be close to him.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was barely audible when you’d whispered that but he heard it and it crushed his heart to know it was his audience that had made you feel this way.

“I won’t, ever.” He assured you, he was cradling you with a force now, ever so slightly rocking the two of you back and forth. “You don’t ever have to ask me that, I’m not going anywhere.”

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #request #writing #mine #GOODNIGHT #Anonymous #answered

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marvelslut16 · 4 years ago

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Idiots in love

Pairing: William ‘Bill’ Weasley x reader

Synopsis: (Y/N) has been in love with Bill ever since she met him their first year at Hogwarts. Will she finally tell Bill how she feels, like Mrs. Weasley hopes she will, or will Fleur and Ginny’s assumptions about (Y/N)’s love life get in the way.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: Angst. Dumb asses pining after each other. Fleur, if she counts lmao. Brief mentions of death.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for months, I wrote it as a self indulgent piece since I can’t date Bill in Hogwarts Mystery and I wasn’t sure if anyone would actually read it. It's cannon divergent. Also, tell me if you want a part 2!

My first fic of the new year! Hopefully I'll be way more consistent and inspired this year. Thank you to everyone reading any of the fics I write, I love you all!

“Molly, he’s happy with her,” you roll your eyes at the older woman who had become like a mother to you over the years.

You met her at Kings Cross Station the morning of your first year, she helped you cross the barrier, your parents are muggles who are afraid of anything different. You were in Bill’s year, the two of you becoming fast friends on the train ride. Through your years at Hogwarts you two became inseparable, both becoming Head Girl and Head Boy together. You two always studied together, explored the castle together, went to Hogsmeade together, you did everything together. Well, except one thing, you didn’t fall in love together; you fell for him, and he fell for that foul, loathsome Emily Tyler and now Fleur Delacour.

You spent almost every Christmas Holiday under the burrow’s roof, along with most of your summers. The burrow was your real home, and the Weasley’s were your family. After you and Bill had graduated Molly and Arthur insisted you use their first names, both convinced you and Bill would finally get together. But that didn’t happen, you both went separate ways, barely even owling over the years. He went on to be this fantastic cursebreaker for Gringotts, getting sent all the way to Egypt. And you, you became the astronomy professor at Hogwarts, you thrived in the subject and Professor Sinistra transferred to Uagadou.

“But you’re perfect for him,” Molly nags. You loved the women with your whole heart, but she really needed to learn when to drop matters of the heart. Especially when the topic of discussion was set to arrive soon.

“Not everything works out how we want it to,” you sigh as you hand her a clean dish to dry, you had wanted to clean the dishes the muggle way. “Especially when it involves one's heart.”

The two of you are waiting for everyone to arrive, Arthur is picking the kids up from the train now that it’s summer holiday. You had apparated to the burrow after the students boarded the train, now officially a part of the Order. Dumbledore and Sirius are dead, but that just means that everyone needs to fight harder.

“I just want you to be happy,” Molly’s eyes are soft and sad as she looks at you.

“I am,” you smile through the lie. There’s a pop from the living room, assuming it’s just Charlie you continue. “I don’t need a man Molly, my students make me happy.”

“Mum,” the unmistakable voice of William Weasley calls as he walks towards the kitchen. “I have great news, Fleur and I are engaged! We want to get married this summer!”

You accidentally drop the plate you're washing back into the soapy water, causing some to splash your shirt. For a split second you see Molly’s face fall before she puts on a bright fake smile as she turns to her eldest. You refuse to turn and see him, you thought you had enough time to prepare yourself to see him again, but you didn’t. He refused to see you after he got hurt during the battle of the astronomy tower when he was in the hospital wing and ignored you in the few weeks following.

“Oh, wow,” Molly tries to come up with a response that won’t upset him. “This quickly?”

“I can’t take the chance, not now,” his mood is hard to read from his voice. He almost seems too defensive when he responds. “Not with everything happening.”

Your heart stops its thumping for a second, you didn’t realize it would hurt this much to see him happy. You want more than anything for him to be happy, but you also know that his mother and sister will never approve of Fleur. And he’ll never be fully happy because of that. But maybe you're wrong, maybe you don’t really know him. Maybe you never did.

“I can’t believe I signed up for bloody astronomy again,” you can hear Ron complain through the open window before Molly can respond.

“You know you love me,” you holler out the window as Ron and Ginny get closer to the house. They’re the only two at Hogwarts now, they’re growing up so fast.

“Yeah, yeah professor,” he mutters as he walks through the door before grinning widely at you.

Even though you had seen Ginny hours ago, the younger girl runs up to you and throws her arms around you. You laugh as she pulls back and makes a face as some of the soap suds transferred to her shirt.

“You just saw (Y/N),” Ron rolls his eyes at Ginny’s actions.

“Yeah but that’s different,” Ginny defends. “At Hogwarts I can’t talk to her about boys, or eat dinner with her, or ask for Quidditch tips.”

“I’m always up for talking about boys,” you grin down at the red headed girl. You laugh and apologize to Molly as Ginny pulls you from the kitchen and up to her room.

You don’t glance at Bill, you can’t. You’re too scared that all of the feeling you have bottled up will resurface with just one glance. You miss the way his eyes soften at your interaction with his sister, and how they trail after you as you get pulled past him. You sit with Ginny as she fawns over Harry for close to an hour, interjecting occasionally when she asks for your opinion. This is what you always imagined having a younger sister would feel like.

“What about you?” she asks with a teasing tone in her voice.

“What about me?” you laugh lightly as your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“You and professor Snape,” she’s smirking.

“Severus?” you laugh before your face pulls into a disgusted look only Ginny can see. “We’re coworkers. Dare I say friends. And he’s a part of the Order, we have to at least tolerate each other.”

“Mhm,” she sounds unconvinced. “He smiled at you the other day! In the Great Hall, where people could see! He never smiles!”

“Ginny, we’re friends,” you try to get through to the stubborn teen. “Plus he’s known me since I was eleven, that would be gross.”

Before Ginny can respond there’s a knock on the open door, you turn around and see Bill for this first time in years. His red hair still falls to his shoulders, and he still has that fang hanging from his ear. There are scars down his cheek now, those and the fang make him look bad ass. Your heart stutters as your eyes meet his, the heartache that disappeared when you were gossiping with Ginny resurfaces with just one look.

“Dinners ready,” he says before turning and walking back down the stairs.

Dinner is loads of fun, the two eldest Weasley’s joining the group since there’s a small Order meeting afterwards. Dinner is full of Charlie joking with you, something you're happy about since Ginny wouldn’t be able to bring up Severus again. You ignore the giggles and the French accent that poke holes in your heart as Bill only pays attention to Fleur, who showed up at the Burrow when you were upstairs.

After dinner you agree to show Ron and Ginny some Quidditch moves you had picked up over the years, borrowing an old broom left behind by one of the other boys. Remus and Tonks appear in the front yard, signaling that the meeting would start momentarily. Ron thanks you as he continues to practice the moves as you fly to the ground. Ginny follows you, wanting to get a drink from the kitchen before it's closed off to the youngest two.

“Are you going to take his last name, or is he going to take yours?” she teases.

“Ginny, not now,” you sigh, not sure how to get it through her head that you have no feeling for the potions master without revealing that you’re in love with her oldest brother. You aren’t sure who’s worse, her or Molly.

“Alright, whatever you say Mrs. Snape,” Ginny wiggles her brows in your direction as you head for the kitchen.

“Mrs. Snape?” Severus’s monotonous voice comes from behind you two. Ginny’s eyes widen before she takes off running, and a strangled sound leaves your lips.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, that’s a month of detention next year!” you yell after her. You take a breath before turning to stare into Snape’s obsidian eyes. “Ginny saw you laugh at my stupid joke in the Great Hall a few weaks ago and now she’s convinced you have feelings for me.” Severus raises his eyebrows at you before looking in the direction Ginny ran off in. “She’s just a kid Sev, don’t hold her delusions against her.”

“Weasley’s,” he mutters before heading to the kitchen himself. Dumbledore had told a select few in the Order the plans for Severus to kill him so Draco didn’t have to, and since the Headmaster was already dying nobody was as mad as expected. “Don’t you have feelings for the oldest one?”

“Be quiet!” you hiss, as look to make sure no one heard. He smirks before walking into the room where the meeting is to be held, leaving you standing confused in the hallway.

The meeting is small tonight; Remus, Tonks, Charlie, Molly, Arthur, Sev, yourself, Bill, and Fleur. The rest had prior engagements unfortunately, so it was essentially just family and Severus.

Molly uses her magic to pour you a glass of tea as you sit beside Sev, the only open seat. You smile a quick thanks before lifting the cup to your lips. The warm liquid soothing your tired throat, students liked to talk over you during the last week of school so your throat was a little raw.

“Do you want a cookie with that, love?” Snape’s monotonous voice is slightly louder than it normally is. The term of endearment comes as such a shock that you spit out the tea that's in your mouth, landing across the table on Fleur.

There was no denying that Severus’s question was directed at you, he’s holding the plate full of Molly’s cookies right next to your face. The room goes deathly silent as the seconds pass by. Ginny, who was getting herself some pumpkin juice, drops the glass she was holding, it shatters when it hits the ground. Molly, Arthur, and Charlie abruptly stop their conversation to stare at you and Sev in shock. Remus furrows his eyebrows as he looks between you two, Tonks looks like she's holding back a laugh. A flash of pain seems to cross Bill’s face before it goes blank, and horror crosses Fleur’s when your tea lands on her.

“I’m so sorry!” you cover your mouth, thankful the liquid wasn’t warm enough to burn. Bill doesn’t even turn to look at his fiancee, just stares at you.

“Are you alright?” Snape has a small smile only you can see. You aren’t sure how to respond, especially as you stare at the amusement dancing in his onyx eyes.

“I knew it!” Ginny yells, finally breaking the few seconds of silence, seconds that felt like years. You flick Sev’s leg under the table, and he has the audacity to grin larger.

“Thanks honey,” your eyes narrow slightly as you grab a cookie off the plate, passing it to Bill without looking away from the man in all black.

The rest of the meeting is awkward, and as soon as it’s over you pull Sev out of his chair and outside. The cool night air cools your burning cheeks and he lets out a laugh that he had been holding in.

“What was that?” you pull at the ends of your hair.

“We made your precious Weasley jealous,” even though he’s smirking, there’s no change in his inflection.

“And now they all think we’re together!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky.

“Good luck with that,” he disapparates before you can respond.

“I hate you!” you yell at the spot where Severus was just standing.

“You and Snape, huh?” Charlie’s voice cuts through the silent night.

“Not bloody likely,” you roll your eyes, before plopping onto the ground. Charlie joins you as you lay and stare up at the stars. “He heard Ginny saying she thought he liked me, and he knows who I like, so he decided to run with it. He’s actually fun when you break through his cold exterior.”

“You still love Bill,” it isn’t a question. No matter how many times you denied it while you three went to school together, Charlie never believed you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to look at him. He’s already facing you so you continue, “your mum kept going on about how I should be the one with him this afternoon. She won’t drop it.”

“I love my brother,” Charlie makes sure you keep eye contact with him as he continues. “But he’s being stupid. I agree with mum, you should be the one marrying him.”

“He’s happy without me,” your voice comes out sadder than you thought it would, guard finally down. “We’ve barely talked in years, and he wouldn’t even let me see him after the attack. He doesn’t need me, nor does he want me in his life anymore.”

Charlie just sighs, annoyed that neither you nor Bill could see the truth starring you both in the face. You love each other. Charlie just lies next to you in comforting silence, staring at the night sky until he has to head back to Romania and you off to bed.

A single tear slips down your cheek as you lay down in the bed that once belonged to Charlie. Ginny enters the room without knocking, and you quickly wipe away the tear.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” she practically screams.

“There’s nothing to tell, he was messing with you, Gin,” you look her directly in the eyes so she knows you aren’t lying.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she sits beside you on the mattress.

“I’m in love with Bill,” you whisper, finally saying the words out loud. Sure you had agreed with Charlie earlier, but you had never said the five words out loud before. It feels like a weight is lifted off your chest, until a new wave of heartache hits you. “I have been since we were in school, and it hurts Ginny. Fleur, she’s perfect, I couldn’t possibly compete with her.”

“You’re so much better than her, (Y/N),” Ginny grabs your hand, causing you to look up at her. “And he’s a fool if he doesn’t see that.”

“Thanks Gin,” you smile sadly, squeezing her hand before she heads off to her room.

“Zank you,” Fleur’s French accent is the first thing you hear in the morning. Ginny comes up behind you as you stand in the hallway, and puts her hand on your shoulder. Today is the day you forget about all of this foolish childish love you have for Bill.

Molly watches you closely as you sit down at the breakfast table, Ginny plopping down beside you. As you talk to the young girl about Quidditch over breakfast, a black owl flies through an open window. You roll your eyes as it plops a letter beside you, you give the owl some of your toast before it flies out of the window again. Ginny looks over your shoulder as you open the letter, the rest of the Weasley’s not-so-secretly watch you read it.

The letter isn’t anything special, just Severus letting you know that you had left a book at Hogwarts. You know full well he’s being his dramatic self, going out of his way to send an owl, just so he can say he was right. He even added a p.s, asking if Bill had gotten jealous yet. You laugh at the ridiculous question, causing Bill to excuse himself and walk outside. Fleur doesn’t move from her seat, causing you and Ginny to make a face at each other.

A few moments pass before you decide to follow your old best friend against your better judgment, but someone should check on him. He’s in the backyard pacing like a madman, running his hands through his long hair and pulling on the tips.

“Bill?” you ask softly. He whips around and looks at you, once again his face is hard to read. Your eyes, however, soften as soon as they see what Fenrier Greyback did to him. “What’s wrong?”

“You and Snape?” his voice is hard and cold. “He hated us growing up, and you just pretended that never happened and you're with him? He hated you!”

“It’s none of your business William!” your voice is high pitched, you’re angry. He doesn’t talk to you in ages and now all of a sudden he thinks it’s okay to judge your relationships. “We were annoying kids back then, of course he hated us.”

“You could do better than him!” his anger seems to rise at the use of his full first name.

“We’re just friends!” your voice is shrill, and you're sure everyone inside can hear you two clearly. “Not that it’s any of your business anyway! Severus was letting me know I forgot some of my belongings at Hogwarts. You have no right to judge who I choose to spend my time with and who I befriend, not when you haven’t tried to talk to me in years Bill!”

With that you turn and head away from the burrow, not wanting to face anyone right now. Especially any of the Weasley's, and most of all, Molly. Bill calls your name as you walk away from him, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. William Weasley has broken your heart multiple times since you met him, and you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of watching himself break your heart all over again.

Part 2

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley x mc #william weasley #william bill weasley #harry potter fanfiction #bill weasley x you #harry potter #harry potter imagine #bill weasley one shot #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fanfiction

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agathasangel · 4 years ago

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you just don’t know it yet but baby, i’ve already got your heart (diane sherman x fem!reader NSFW)

both an anon and @magnifique-monstre requested yandere prompt 6 and 17 (i think?) so I’m gonna combine them because they would go together well

prompt 6: “Pretend you never saw that. I can’t stand it when you look so scared.”

prompt 17: “I’m the only thing keeping you safe from a filthy, disgusting world.”

warnings: everything, basically. it’s pretty fucked up actually. TW for drugging, stalking, dubcon, emetophobia warning (just one mention), kidnapping, etc. also teacher!diane

summary: Diane Sherman was your Professor, and then your girlfriend, and then your caretaker. As the days start to become hazy and mixed up with one another, you wonder if Diane is trustworthy.

Every day was basically the same. Wake up, take your meds, have breakfast with Diane. Then you would either accompany Diane to school or she would take you to the doctor’s or sometimes, if you felt up to it, she would take you on some sort of outing. She never liked to leave you alone and protectively followed you nearly everywhere you went. She took you home, and you would rest by her as she worked on her grading. At night Diane would make dinner for the two of you, the two of you would relax together, she would make sure you took the medication you needed at night and then you fell asleep in her arms.

It was nice. But you noticed that you started to forget things. You sometimes forgot how you even knew Diane, you even forgot your whole life before you met her at times. You were supposed to be on medical leave for a semester, which turned into a whole year, and- how long has it been now? You had no idea. You thought it was still summer, but the days started to blur together. The next year may have started, you had no way of knowing. Diane taught year round, so you went to school with her either way.

You remembered how everything started, though. You were a freshman, and you had moved across the country for college. You felt alone, and scared. You took a Chemistry class because you had to take some sort of science course, and it was the only one available when you signed up. You dreaded going, until you saw Professor Sherman. You struggled a bit in the class, so you went to her office hours. It was also a good excuse to talk to her, you thought.

She was a lot nicer than some of your other professors, and she helped you through the problems you struggled with.

“You know, students don’t usually like to come to my office hours, so feel free to show up whenever you need me. Alright, hon?”

“Of course. Thanks, Professor.”

How did it turn into this?

Oh, right. You and Diane started to get closer, and you started to come down with lots of rashes, general pains, and you started getting sick to your stomach more and more.

One day, you emailed Diane to tell her you couldn’t make it to her lab because you had thrown up that morning, to which she responded by asking what dorm you were in and if you needed anything.

It might be nice if you could bring me some saltines or something to settle my stomach? I have nothing in my dorm and can’t really stand up yet. Don’t worry about it though. I don’t want to get you sick, and are you even allowed in the dorms?

- (y/n)

I’ll be fine, and it really isn’t a big deal. We’re both adults, and I just want to help you.

- thinking of you, Prof. Diane Sherman

Next thing you remember, Diane showed up to your dorm a few minutes after your lab would have ended and brought not just crackers, but ginger ale, soup, water, blankets, and several different medicines. You talked for a while too, but couldn’t for the life of you remember what about. But you did remember that she stayed with you as long as you needed her, and promised to come back if you needed it.

You didn’t get better. You managed to get through your finals and pass your first semester classes, but you ended up having to spend much of Winter break in the hospital. Your parents came to visit, as did Diane. Diane actually came back every day, making sure you were okay.

You remembered that because of the silver necklace Diane gave you that Christmas that you still wore every single day. You felt bad when you got it because you didn’t think to get her a gift, but she told you not to worry about that, this was just a little thing that made her think of you. Besides, you were in the hospital!

“You know (y/n), I don’t have anyone else to visit over the holidays. I’m glad I get to be with you. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

You started feeling a bit better and were able to come back for your second semester classes. You didn’t have Diane as a professor anymore, but you started to become friends. You would get coffee, or dinner. One night she asked you to come home with her, and be her girlfriend, to which you immediately agreed.

You slowly spent fewer nights at your dorm and more nights with Diane, and then you got sick again. After that, she convinced you to move in with her full-time, and you’ve been living in her house and sleeping in her bed ever since.

Right now, you were sitting in Diane’s and your bed, as she made dinner. You struggled to remember what happened next. This was when everything started to blend together. Your illnesses worsened even more shortly after you moved in with Diane. You remember being confined to the very same bed as Diane helped you do your finals from home, as she explained the situation to your parents and easily charmed them, convincing them you were in great hands.

“(Y/n), time for dinner!”, Diane called. She then walked to the bedroom to check if you needed any help.

“I’m fine, actually. I’ve been feeling a little better.”

“Good. Such a brave, good girl. Now eat up, alright baby?” cooed the older woman as she led you to the table and sat you down.

“Well, physically I’ve been feeling better, but-”

“What? What’s wrong? Have I not been paying enough attention to you? Are you feeling sad? anxious? My poor baby-”

“No, none of that. I’ve just been- forgetting things. Like, big chunks. My memories are so foggy. It’s hard for me to think at all sometimes.”

“Oh, honey, that’s just a side effect of your medication. It’s okay, it won’t last forever. And I’ll help you fill in any gaps you need until then. But you don’t need to worry. Not when you’re with me. Okay angel?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Oh, we’re in that kind of mood, are we?”

“Is that okay?”

“Very, very, okay, little one.”

Mommy was what you called Diane most often during sex. It turned her on immensely, and it excited you as well.

Diane grabbed you and brought you to the bed, tearing off your clothes.

“Are you still feeling good?”

“Yes Mommy.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good girl for Mommy.”

You spread your legs for her and she started touching you. But then-

“Mommy stop please. I can’t do this, Diane-”

“Alright. I’m sorry, I’ll go get your meds.

Diane went to the bathroom to get your meds and sleep aids.

“D-Diane?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why can’t I remember things? I can’t even remember some things about my family.”

“A side effect of some of your medication sweetie. I told you that.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I will tell you this, my love. People have hurt you, in your past. I remember when we met you were having such a difficult time. You wanted friends, you had so much trouble making friends. The other students were so mean to you. Your parents they- they acted like having to come see you when you were in the hospital was some kind of inconvenience. It was awful. You were so lonely.”

“I know I was lonely.”

“Yes, sweetheart. You needed someone. You needed me. I have to be the one to take care of you. I am the only person that can love the way you deserve to be loved. I’m the only thing keeping you safe from a filthy, disgusting world. And I need you too. I need to love and protect you.”

“Yes, Diane. I need to sleep now.”

“Alright. Come here, darling,” said Diane. She held you until you fell asleep.

Next thing you knew, you were tied to the pole in the basement with several ropes. Diane was tying more and more ropes around you, around different parts of your body. The world felt heavy, blurry, fluid.

“Please stop, Diane. Why are you doing this?”

“It’s for your own good, darling. Trust me. You need this.”

The ropes began to cover your entire body. Your face, eyes, neck. Especially your neck. There was a sharp sting on your neck.

Your eyes flew open, and you awoke in a cold sweat, and screamed.

It was just a dream, I’m safe, thank God. Diane would never-

But then you noticed Diane. She was holding a small syringe, that seemed empty. And your neck stung. She was startled by your scream, clearly not expecting you to have woken up.

“Pretend you never saw that. I can’t stand it when you look so scared.”

“What did you do to me? What was in there, Diane?”

“You need it, sweetheart. I know you don’t like needles.”

“No. Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on?”

“You need this. You need me. Your-”

You searched for the syringe and found it. There was a thick, black residue on it, and you sniffed it. It gave you a head rush.

“You’ve been drugging me. This is why I’ve forgotten things, isn’t it?”

“Come on, angel. You know I wouldn’t”

“But-”

“Don’t worry, just go back to sleep.”

You did feel tired. So tired. And you couldn’t even remember what you and Diane were even fighting about. So you went to sleep in her arms.

The next morning, Diane made you breakfast.

“How did you sleep, (y/n)?”

“I don’t know. I think I had a nightmare but I can’t remember-”

“Oh no! At least you can’t remember it, right?”

“I- I guess so.”

Diane felt relief that you didn’t remember what happened last night. Her plan was working. You would be hers, her precious girl, forever. All that work to find you, to make you trust her, making you sick, making you need her. She knew everything about you. You were her perfect girl, and she was yours. And you always would be.

#diane sherman #diane sherman x reader #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #my fics #sarah paulson fics #im actually pretty proud of this one

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zeldasayer · 5 years ago

Text

Futile Devices — Chapter 5

A Javier Peña/Call Me By Your Name AU

gif by @pascalplease

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Everything has changed since your father’s book with Javier was rejected, just as you and Javier were getting close.

Warnings: SMUT — age gap (reader is of age), inexperienced!reader themes, gagging, praise (use of “little girl”), vocal Javi, squirting. Angst. 18+

Masterlist | Chapter 4

——

Vita Murphy was born on April 9th 1963 in Milan, Italy to American architects Connie and Steve Murphy, who met your mother by chance one afternoon at a market in town. Taking a liking to Connie, Daisy invited her and her husband to one of their legendary parties. Your mother and father loved to entertain and invite interesting people into their home for cocktails and Daisy's delicious cooking. Your parents celebrated every holiday, birthday, or life event they could think of, any excuse to dress up, string lights through the fruit trees in the back yard and drink in excess to your father's extensive record collection. As a child, you missed most of the parties, having been put to bed just as they were taking off, but when Connie and Steve arrived to your mother's 35th birthday after meeting in the market, and saw you sitting alone at your piano, Connie knew that next time she would bring her daughter.

Even at 13 you felt the pull that Vita had. You watched as she floated around your home, seeming even more comfortable in it than you were, stealing sips of wine and hors d'oeuvres before noticing you and asking if you had ever had your tarot cards read.

"It's my favourite game." You spat out nervously unaware.

Vita just smiled with a nod, "Yeah. Mine, too."

And from then on, you were inseparable.

"She didn't cry, she sang!" Connie always said about her daughter's birth. "It was the happiest day of my life."

Made in her mother's stunning image, Vita had the most incredible large eyes and long blonde hair she cut only once a year. Connie knew at a young age that her daughter was special, as a believer in the universe and the infinite lives a person could have, she knew her daughter was an old soul put on Earth to love and protect the new souls, the tired souls, those who were born somewhere and didn't know why they were born there. She knew it would be quite the burden for one girl, but she saw it quickly in her daughter that it was what she was meant to do. A healer, a listener, someone who understood what many feared no one ever could. Vita attracted those who needed her, and in that, unfortunately led to a large turnover in friendships. Vita was used to strong, short bursts of complete female unity, where she loved you undyingly and provided the support that you needed to pass through a difficult period of your life. But not with you, there was no passing through with you. Not even during your extended stays in the United States or even now that you are gone most of the year in college, could your friendship be weakened.

"It's because you were siblings!" Connie exclaimed in a tipsy state on a summer night long ago. "In another life."

"Do you think?" Vita asked, turning to you.

You believed in Vita and her mother's cosmic knowing, and relied on it more than you were willing to admit. "Of course."

"You were brother and sister." Connie said before taking a sip of her wine, and going quiet.

She always goes quiet — one moment she will tell you how your whole life is going to be and the next, just as she's about to get into the details, she switches off without any explanation, claiming she "doesn't really know this stuff, anyway."

It always makes Vita roll her eyes, because she knows that's not the case for she is just like her mother. Vita saw everything and found people she couldn't read extremely frustrating. Vita has this otherworldly understanding of people and a patience unmatched by anyone you have ever met. She knows how devastating it can be to be seen, but how crucial in life it is to not only be understood, but accepted. Vita also knew how often you spent up in your head, in your make believe world where nothing could hurt you. How your lust for life was so consuming it left you unable to move, too afraid to start because it always felt like you were doing it on your own. Your best friend once told you with tears in her eyes that she wished she knew what planet you were from so you would have the peace of mind that you weren’t completely alone, and you thanked her because sometimes that is enough.

Vita is the human embodiment of home.

So why can't you tell her what is going on? Why does your throat close up every time you want to talk about Javier in any capacity? Why does your throat close up when you think about Javier at all? A part of you wants to run barefoot straight to Vita’s house and up to her room, beg her to help you understand your own emotions. Why are you so enamored by a man who always makes it so hard to breathe? How he manages to make you so hyper aware of your movements, yet he isn't even looking at you. How he's never there when you want him but you would drop everything to be close to him once more. You would drop everything just to be what he wanted again and it makes you sick to your stomach. It's like watching yourself at 15 all over again, when you believed the most important thing you could be was desired. Hell is the mind of a fifteen year old girl, and you thought those days were gone forever.

The tension in the house doesn't make it any easier. You and Daisy tiptoeing around your father and house guest. The quiet meals, that used to be your favourite parts of the day now leave you cold even in the relentless summer sun. You spend most of the time, sitting across from Javier, staring at him. Waiting for him to look at you so you can ask him what's wrong with your eyes. To let him know that he can come to you, that you want him to. But he never does.

Christian and Javier lock themselves away in the library most days and your mother tells you they still haven't come up with anything new. You're startled every night when you're woken by their raised voices traveling through the halls and you hold your breath until you hear their roaring laughter and you know they must be drunk.

You don't see Javier much these days, but you don't see anyone for that matter. Resorting to lazy floats in the pool by yourself or reading alone in the cool living room to escape the heat. It feels as though, if you can't be around Javier you can’t be around anyone at all and sometimes you can make that make sense but most of the time you ignore the irritating notion that you may really be going crazy.

But what was supposed to happen? Javier would fuck you and realize right then and there he couldn’t live without you? It’s so embarrassing because it’s true. You can't talk to Vita because you're embarrassed to admit you wanted to be more and tonight after another lonely dinner where you might as well have been eating alone — you dumped your dishes in the sink and slipped out to the back gardens for your abandoned childhood swing set. And you finally cried.

“Fuck!” You scream up at the sky and you kick your legs back.

As you create your momentum, swinging back and forth you can’t help but succumb to your own erratic emotions and you wonder why it has to be this way. Why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Why must you always need more? Why is it so goddamn exhausting to keep yourself neutral? You’ve never felt sad, only despair. Never angry, only full of rage. You’ve never been embarrassed, you only know humiliation. And you hate to think this way because you always search for your brain for a time you were truly happy, but you always come up empty.

Something is always missing. Something is always missing and you’re always alone but you can’t even be upset because you do it to yourself.

It feels like you’re taking the world on by yourself simply because you are. Because you feel like you need to, this is your burden and yours only. You must suffer to be rewarded for one day you will be able to walk in the sun and be alright.

But to what end? When will you be rewarded?

You want it to be Javier. Just being close to him feels like the reward. The energy you feel just sitting next to him, those eyes you want to swim in, the perfect angle of his nose and the voice that drips from his lips. It must be him, but he won’t even talk to you.

You spend the evening locked in this thought, the concept of the reward — you can convince yourself it isn't real but your heart aches for it knows it is the truth. Which is why Javier is so difficult. He is the one and it makes you dizzy with excitement, but you’re not sure if you can trust it. There is this pull of doubt at the corners of every thought because he still doesn’t know you. Though he could. If he just said the word, you’d spill every story, every thought, every idea you’ve ever had. How you long for more. More life. More love. More sex. More understanding. To truly be alive, not just living. Who could understand that better then him?

——

You like the way the cold ground feels under your bare feet as you walk back up to the house in the darkness. You feel lighter, now that you’ve cried and the house that sits quiet and empty is suddenly comforting. This is your life, your home. Javier is just a tourist and he should be so lucky to exist in the same space as you. But maybe this is you just channeling arrogance as to not be so sad, focusing on what he’s missing instead of your desperate need for him to actually see it.

“Claude?” You hear from the living room at the first creak of the wooden stairs.

You tiptoe through the corridor and into the living room to find Javier taming his fluffy hair with a yawn. Your jaw tightens.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I fell asleep.” He says and you just stand there, crossing your arms over your light blue summer dress. “Can you come sit?”

Shit.

“I don’t know Javi, I’m tired.” You shrug.

“Look, I just want to apologize.” He says, standing up and turning toward you, “We had sex and I haven’t spoken to you since and that’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t see because he looks down like he’s ashamed. You believe him. Gliding across the living room, you watch him in his usual ensemble — tight black t-shirt, soft cotton pants and his thick black framed glasses, and sit back down with him, on your side.

“It’s just everything with this book, I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety.” He says, his eyes cast down, resting his head on his fist propped up by the top of the couch.

You nod for you understand, but it hurt. “You didn’t even look at me this week.”

“I know.” He sighs, “I know, but I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him, biting your cheek to contain your excitement.

“I miss you even while we live in the same house.” He says, looking away. His hand fidgets against his knee. “If you’re not at breakfast, or you spend your day here, reading in the living— I miss you when you aren’t around me.”

You wish there was a way to burn these words into your brain so you could have them at any time, to hear his voice say these things to you. This validation that he has felt the same after these long, horrible days of practically ignoring each other.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn Javier’s gaze back to you, and study him as you feel the fine hairs of his beard under your fingertips. He looks tired, even behind his glasses you can see the deep longing for rest in his eyes. You don’t think he’s used to rejection either.

Javier leans into your touch with a soft hum and you could almost lose your breath from the tenderness. You want to hold him, bury your nose in his hair and tell him to rest with you. Just laying together, his big body between your legs and head on your stomach, until the inevitable rising of the sun. You can hardly bring yourself to imagine how beautiful Javi must look by the light of the morning.

“Come here.” You whisper, though it’s barely audible, as you rise up on your knees so you are flush against his side, looking down at him. Before you kiss him, Javier kisses you, and your hand floats down from his cheek to wrap your arms around his glorious neck.

Javi wastes no time, his one big hand dragging up your spine to squeeze the back of your neck, holding your against him. And with the other, letting his thick fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass. You can feel the desperation in his skin, and you want all of it, this exquisite juxtaposition of feeling both safe in his arms but that he could also crush you with his desire.

What was life before this? Before Javier’s thick moans into your mouth, his heavy wet finger tips tracing. He takes up all the air in the room and you don’t stop him. He is everything.

You break off the kiss for a moment and remove his glasses. “I missed you too.”

“I’ve only touched you once, but I have spent every day thinking about you. Kissing you. Having you.” He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “It’s all I’ve wanted, every day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.” You ask, and you can’t help the confused look on your face but Javier doesn’t respond. You search his face anyway longing for something heartfelt, like he was locked up in his head, consumed by his feelings for you, like you were. Instead, he kisses you again. Swallowing any upsetting feeling you’ve had since you’ve touched him last.

Kissing Javier is a soft pleasure all in its own, but you want more. More skin. More contact. To ache around him again. To show him how much you truly missed him.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper, your palm trailing flat down the man’s chest. You get lower and lower, kissing along the beautiful exposed skin of his neck, dragging your hand down the soft black fabric until you reach the drawstring of Javi’s pants.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you feel his body stiffen as he looks around.

You nod, pushing your legs out from underneath you so you’re laying flat on the couch, your face practically in his lap. “Just relax.”

Javier lets all the air escape from his chest as you pull on the pants and he lifts his hips so you can get them down his thighs.

He watches you with heavy eyes, his mouth falling open as you kiss up the underside of his length, hardening under your lips. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you rest your head on Javier’s lower abdomen lazily, feeling him grow even more in your hand as you stroke him.

“Shit..” He says through his teeth, smoothing your hair back out of your face for you.

You continue to take your time teasing him. Humming in delight as Javier can barely contain himself, thrusting up into your hand shamelessly. He keeps his eyes closed, hands in your hair and you can feel the relief radiating from him. He was desperate for touch.

“Oh, Javi.” You coo, as his head falls back on to the couch, fucking up into your hand and you swear you can hear him whimper. This feeling of power over Javier is absolutely intoxicating, to feel so disconnected from him all week then to have him almost pathetically trying to relieve himself with any bit of human contact you’ll allow him.

“Look what you do to me.” He growls. “Fucking your ha-and...”

Javier reaches around, taking his length from your delicate grasp and pushes you lightly into his pelvis.

“You’re so fucking — soft.” He grunts, tapping his throbbing head against your lips before dragging his cock along your face.

You smile, letting him. Revealing your tongue for a moment to tease him once more.

“Thought you wanted to take care of me.” He says, his voice tight and you feel his hand in the back of your hair as he continues to run his length along your face. Grinning as his grip tightens, he doesn’t hurt you, it’s just about the control.

“I do.” You moan, as Javi softly pushes and pulls your head in a rhythmic motion, just hovering over him.

“Open your mouth.” He mumbles and you do what you’re told.

Javier motions your neck down, pulling you slowly over him, taking just his head in your mouth. “Is this okay sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You whimper around him, your thighs involuntarily rubbing together, searching for some kind of relief from the arousing pull of his voice.

“Yeah? F-Fuck your pretty mouth.” He grunts, thrusting up slowly, stretching your lips to accommodate his thickness. You close your eyes, focusing on the fullness, calming your breath to take him.

“Stay just like this.” Javier sighs, his other hand tangling into your hair to keep you in place and you hum in agreement. Then he thrusts — quickly like he’s actually fucking you and it comes as a surprise but the moan that drips from his mouth almost instantly is enough to make you squeeze your thighs tighter. You have never felt a high like this, being exactly what Javier wants.

You dig your finger nails into his thighs as he takes you, a blunt, bruising force to the back of the throat and you can’t help but gag.

“That’s a good girl.” He says, “Taking my dick in your hot fucking mouth. I love that sound.”

You gag once more and Javier pulls out to you gasping. Spit suspended from your mouth to his cock and you watch it for a moment before grinning up at Javi.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wiping the saliva from your mouth.

“I’ve never done that before.” You smile, looking down slightly embarrassed as you wonder if you were even any good.

“You keep saying that...” Javi’s voice trails off as he pulls your dress up to knead your behind. You love having his hands on you, playing with you. “But you’d never know...”

You try to suppress your satisfied smile, flattening your palms around the base of Javier’s shaft, you take him back in your mouth.

“Fuck...” he exhales long and slow, grabbing a rough handful of your ass before pushing you down on to him, taking him completely down your throat and keeps you there. Your eyes water, and your leg kicks out before he lets you breathe again, coming up for air with a cough you look up at him and he looks down at you like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

——

Javier pulls you back up against his side, and he looks up at you as he’s slumped down into the couch. You wrap your arms back around his neck, fluttering your fingers through his hair and he nuzzles your chest, pressing his lips into your skin. You wish he was like this always, soft in your arms.

Javi hooks a finger into the top of your dress and pulls down, freeing your breasts, nipples hard in attention and he takes one in his mouth. Your cradle his head as he sucks on the buds and you let your own fall back slowly, relishing in the feeling of his tongue and his lips, the brushing of his moustache and the digging of his nose and how sweet he looks in your arms. This is too much, you’re going dizzy.

Javier helps you pull your dress over his head and his lips quickly return to your nipples. His big warm hands squeezing your bust harshly, alternating with his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh and completely pressing his face into your chest. Even as you climb into his lap, on top of him completely nude, his tongue doesn’t give up until you pull his face up to yours for a kiss.

He tastes like everything you want to drown in and it’s heady, like a force you must fight before it completely consumes you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck.” You gasp, grinding your hips along Javi’s length, desperate for more.

“Oh, god.” He chokes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me this time, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You whine, reaching between your bodies.

“Yeah? You’re gonna bounce that wet little pussy on my dick?” His voice shakes into your neck, and it’s such a contrast from his stern “Get on your bed.” from days ago.

You nod, kissing up his jaw in this sudden codependency, his need to feel every inch of you as you both fall back into the couch.

“Relax, Javi. Let me do this for you.” You coo, sinking down on to him. You hum from the incredible stretch and Javier groans right into your ear.

“That pussy is so fucking tight.” He says, out of breath. “Don’t move.”

You obey him, stilling in his lap and Javier lifts his head from the safe space between your neck and your shoulder and he looks up at you.

“What if I just held you here like this.” He says, almost to himself, his hands coming up to your ass. “Stuffed full of my dick and I didn’t let you move.”

“Javi...” You whine.

“Would you still be my good little girl?”

“Javi...” You whine louder, your chest feeling like it’s going to collapse, Javier’s fingers digging into you and he gives you two small thrusts.

“You love being my good girl, don’t you?” Javier whispers, pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

More than anything.

“Yes.” You gasp.

“I know you do.” He says, guiding you slowly up and down. “Just sucking my dick made this pussy a dripping mess.”

“I love it.” You groan as the sound of your skin against his gets louder as you work your hips for him.

Javier looks a moment away from possession and it just fuels you, for you have him where you always want him and you want this to be the death of him.

You still again, but only for a moment to steady yourself as you get up on your feet.

“Shit..” Javier sighs, before he turns you both with your arms wrapped around him, his back now against the arm rest and his legs straight out along the couch. “There you go, baby.”

You reach behind you, finding your balance with your grip on his knees and you pull your hips up.

“Oh my fucking god.” Javier gasps, running his hand down his face and you push your hips down slowly, watching him and in this moment he is really yours.

Fighting through the burning in your arms and your legs, you give him everything you’ve got. Mewing in the pleasure of seeing him underneath you like this, needing you like this. Submitting to the grinding of your hips and the wetness that aches around him. You wish you could see yourself on top of him, your chest bouncing, skin glowing in sweat so he knows exactly what he could have, whenever he wanted it.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” Javier says, his thumb dragging across your mound and down to your clit, that is begging for attention and the moment his fingertip grazes the sensitive nerve your legs clamp together. But he doesn’t stop. Even as his length falls from your body from the increased height of your hips, Javier’s hand doesn’t retreat from the soft thighs it’s wedged between. Circling your clit over and over, your arms buckle and you hold your breath. You thought you had the power but even on top of him you’re just putty in his hand and he knows exactly what to do to make you sing.

“Are you going to squirt for me again?” He rasps, his other hand pushing you down into his lap. “I want to watch this pretty little pussy squirt all over me.”

“Put it back.” You gasp, trying to force your legs open.

“Yeah, baby? Do you need my dick?” Javi teases, pushing at your thigh to open up for him again. He finally eases his dizzying pressure on your clit and holds you just above his pulsing head, slick with you. Running his tip along your folds, you try to sink down on to him, but he keeps you suspended.

“Beg me.” He demands. “You know I love the way you say my fucking name.”

“Please, Javi.” You whine, grinding your hips into nothing. “Please, I love your cock so much, give it to me.”

You push yourself up and fall forward so your hands are on his chest, “Please, Javi. Make me squirt again. Only you know how to fucking do it”

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, pushing up into you sharply despite your yelp. “Anything for my good little girl.”

Javier pulls you down, flush against his chest, still clothed against your’s nude and he wraps his arms around you. He smells like amber and fresh linens as always. Summer. A sunset. The breeze off the ocean and wine. Safe.

His grip around you tightens as you inhale him, pounding up into you as he finds your ear, and his voice is like syrup, “I’m going to take care of you sweetheart. Going to make this pussy cum. You tell me okay? I want to see it. Want to see you fucking soak me. Don’t by shy, my good little girl. Give it to me.”

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You’re so fucking incredible. Taking my big dick in this perfect little pussy. Let go, Claude. Cum for me, angel.”

You groan lewdly and Javi’s hand comes down on your mouth.

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” He warns, and you sigh into his palm. Angel.

This pace is overwhelming, and as he’s restricted your limbs there really is nothing you can do but take it, trying to keep your thighs from clamping together every time Javier brushes that incredible spot within you. Your moans getting longer, from an even deeper part of your throat every time. Your core twists and tightens as he brings you there, unlike anyone else ever has.

“Javi, now!” You exclaim, barely recognizing the screech in your voice and Javier pulls out. His lap wet with you.

“Oh that’s a good fucking girl.” He says, kissing the top of your head as you fall to his side. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your house guest’s impressive length twitches in his hand as he strokes himself, his nose buried in your hair as you nuzzle his chest in hazy delight and he keeps whispering, “Fucking you is such a dream. You make it so hard not to just nut in that tight fucking pussy.”

You hum, lifting our head up and kissing him softly. “Cum for me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows.

“Please, Javi.” You sigh.

“Where?” He asks, stroking himself harder.

It takes all your strength, but you slip silently off the couch and on to your knees. “On my face.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He says, getting up quickly.

Javier takes your chin delicately in his hand, stroking himself with vigor with the other, and you display your tongue for him, feeling the weight of his cock on it instantly.

“Such a good girl, letting me cum on your pretty fucking face like this. I don’t deserve you. So fucking— pretty.” He groans, with everything left and in this moment you have him, again.

——

You wake in your bed, and you know it’s late because you’re hit by a wall of heat followed swiftly by disappointment when you realize you are, once again, alone. With your arm spread out at your side, you know you are going to be met with nothing but empty sheets and you still feel it at the pit of your stomach anyway.

You sit up with a sigh, back to normal you suppose. Another day of existing separately, but together with only your lost puppy sense of self and a fascination for this man to sustain you.

Then you see him. Javier leaning up against your balcony door with his coffee, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. He hears you stirring and looks back with a smile, “Good morning.”

——

Tags: @pascalisperfect @thefinalgurl @we-are-like-a-timebomb @ssppoorrkk @headsindreams @kehrite @nerdyknightwritersblog @tangledlove27 @chipotle-pour-moi @jokersdoll @zea-is-amazing @someplace-darker @kaylaylaylayla @spacenerdsebby @forever-rogue @fionnthebandersnacc @colourmeinblue @longitud-de-onda @dogsinspace @spitmillk @staellula @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @leo-moon @mandoandyodito @bonkybaaarnes @sadthotsonlylove @ah-callie @astrolo-galaxy @lockedoutofmyotherblog @hayley-the-comet @boybalm @casjason @mrsparknuts @blushingwueen @ignimbritetcax @benakenalove @fioccodineveautunnale @exrebelshocktrooper @pascalisthepunkest @sav-a-nna @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @solarwars @cumberbitching @rae-gar-targaryen @tabalugax @lokiaddicted @roxypeanut @ezraslittlebirdie @thisainttheway @none-of-your-bullshit @mand0-l0rian @assaultsofthought

Love, Zelda

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #au #call me by your name #cmbyn fic #cmbyn aesthetic #narcos

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gisachi · 4 years ago

Note

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry, and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

#shinran #kiss prompts #fanfic #lmk anon(s) if you see this and if you do then yaaay #thank you for requesting!#and thank you for reading!#:')#I have a love-hate relationship with this fic #it's only supposed to be 4 scenes #oh well it is what it is lmao #it's ok ig since this is the last (awww) from the kiss prompts!#😌#I tried so hard with a jealous Ran haha #jealous fics are good reads but writing them is hard :O

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mysweetestcreature · 4 years ago

Text

Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mummy, come back!”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

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

“We’ll be happier here?”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him.

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

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

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Busy with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That seems sudden,” she says.

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

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

***

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

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

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you see?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

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

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part.

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

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

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

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?”

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

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

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

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

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

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

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kaleidoscope?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!”

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

***

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

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

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

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

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

“Oh, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

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

***

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

***

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

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

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

“So, what’s going on?”

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

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

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

“Harry?” she whispers.

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

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

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

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

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

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

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

He turns around and doesn’t look back.

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

*** Ten Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That last bit sticks to her.

***

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

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

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

“Good news?” she teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“And what did you do?”

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

Ava snorts into her drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?”

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

“Then why bother coming back!"

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

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

“Pen–”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I insist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s completely beside the point!”

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

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

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Then he left.

***

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

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

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

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

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

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

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

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

It’s heartache.

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that–”

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

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

It makes her sick.

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

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

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

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

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

And it shouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“I have to.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nod is all she can afford.

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

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

She looks happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The entire length of him slides into her tight hole until he bottoms out, his balls pressing against her taut ass. She feels undeniably full, never having experienced such exhilaration in her life as Harry’s bare cock stretches her out completely.

“Just slid right in,” he grunts, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He bites down and sucks greedily on the spot until he’s made his mark. She gasps in mild pain, but it feels too good to know that she can finally be his. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in with ease, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her walls flutter around him. “It feels like you were made for me” She feels marvelously tight, squeezing him for all he’s worth. All she can do is nod, her voice caught in her throat as his thrusts become harder and faster. “It’s all mine now, your pussy, your lips. You’re all mine.”

“I’m yours, all yours, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “God, your big cock feels so good in my tight pussy.” Nails dig into his back as they run down and carve crescents into his flexed and sweaty muscles.

They move flawlessly in sync as she rises up to greet his every thrust with just as much excitement and fervor. Both their bodies are on fire, a pressure building up at their very core and threatening to unravel at any moment. His balls tighten, and he knows he won’t last for much longer. He looks down between them, his cock completely soaked with her with the most sinful sounds resonating whenever he pushes in and out of her delightful heat. “I love you,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers indenting into the plush of her hips. He loses any sense of rhythm he might have started out with, his movements becoming more and more urgent as he chases after his high.

“I love you.” Her second orgasm fast approaches, she feels it thrill every one of her nerves as though currents of electricity were running through her veins. She’s so close, and her hand slips between their sweaty chests to rub desperately on her clit. Her head is spinning with an aspiration to reach the brink of ecstasy.

“Come all over my cock,” he pleads as he pushes into her with incredible force. “Want to feel you come around me.”

And that’s it for her. A wave of pleasure crashes over her and she cries out with a high-pitched moan. Her legs hugging him so tightly that he barely manages to move. She rides it out, rolling her hips to feel him continuously poke that special spot. Soon enough, her mind is on a cloud, the rest of her body soaking up the bliss of the moment.

His movements only become more erratic, and the breath leaves her body once he releases inside of her. Hot white ribbons shoot out and paint her walls with the image of a sensational love. It warms her center, her lips turning up in a lazy smile as he remains within her even after the final drop has left his tip. Once they’re heaving chests calm to a natural pace, he collapses on top of her, arms willing their way between her and the mattress to gather her into a tender embrace. She scratches the back of his head and sighs contently.

“To think we could’ve been doing that for,” and she counts the years on each one of her fingers.

Harry chuckles in between her breasts, then reaches up and plants a quick but sweet kiss to her lips. “How long are you going to be holding onto that one?” She pretends to think, her mouth quirking to the side as her brows furrow in contemplation. “Until we make up for all that wasted time.”

***

“I got you something.” She looks up at him, her body still wrapped in his arms as they lay naked in his bed. Memories of what feels like another life flip through her head.

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?”

Smiling, she kisses enthusiastically and nods her head. He gets up, and she has to stop herself from frowning when they lose all contact. She sinks into the sheets and waits impatiently for him to come back. Listening to him rummage through his closet, then to the growling of her tummy–and she makes a quick mental note to ask him to order something for them in a while––she tries to relive every detail from the last few hours in her head. She didn’t know that sex was supposed to feel so good.

“You told me that you hadn’t drawn in almost ten years,” he states, making his way back to the bed, but this time, with a bag clutched in his hands. He places it in her lap, then slips between her and the headboard, arms going back to their initial position. “Maybe it’s time you started back up.”

Y/n opens the enclosed wrappings. Inside the bag is a new sketchbook and a carton of 9H pencils. She carefully grazes her fingers above them. There’s a feeling in her chest, like she’s just been reunited with an old friend.

“But what would I even draw?” She’d lost all sight of that part of her life, and it seems unlikely that those creative juices will just come trickling back to her now.

Harry kisses the side of her head, and she leans into him easily.

“Whatever inspires you.”

It’s just that easy. She closes her eyes and reflects on what has always made her feel any bit positive. Ava and her bluntness; her dad and his sense of duty to his family; Nan and Gramps and their playful bickering; Nan and her proclivity for gossip; Gramps and his hatred for ties. All of them had been a comfort to her, even when she hadn’t realized it. They were part of what had kept her afloat.

Feeling Harry’s heartbeat press up against her back, she knows that she’ll never have to worry about drowning. She opens her sketchbook to its first clean page and lets herself be happy.

***

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Jared says, offering her a modest grin. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t want to.” Penny nods beside him. Jared had texted her and asked if she would meet them for lunch, so that they could talk. At first, Y/n didn’t think that necessary. What was the point when it was all out in the open now? But with some convincing from Harry, she realized that she had to confront this.

“There’s no moving on if we don’t talk about it.” Y/n takes the seat across from Penny. She looks at the girl she’d consider a sister, studying her rounded and healthier features. Pregnancy looks good on her. “You look good.”

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

They talk about everything, even the stuff that feels like it should hurt. But it doesn’t. Clarity exists where it hadn’t before. She tells them that about Harry, and apparently it isn’t much of a shock to anyone, which shocks her. Jared then admits to having had all these doubts about their relationship but had stuck through it because of his own insecurities. That had had hit close to home for Y/n. It’s somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t been the only one who felt that what they had was temperamental.

“You were there for me when I was at my worst, and for that, I’ll always love you,” Jared sighs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But...”

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

He nods sadly, pulling back. His other arm is around Penny’s chair, and Y/n can see his fingers playing with the ends of her ponytail.

Penny must notice this, and she quickly shrugs him away. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Y/n shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she waves it off. “This was good. At least now we can all carry on with our lives.” She gets out of her chair. “Good luck,” she says to the both of them. Then she looks directly at Penny. “I know you’re worried about making all the same mistakes as your mum, but...” she smiles, “someone said to me that mistakes aren’t genetic. I know you. And I know how much you love your baby. Just promise me you’ll be there for her.”

With that she turns towards the exit. Before she can get far, however, she feels a hand grab her own. She looks back, and it’s Penny. Her eyes are teary, and her chest lifts erratically. “Do you think that...” she swallows, “...that you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Do I still get to be called auntie?”

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

Y/n touches her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Then, one day.”

She walks out of there feeling completely at peace with herself.

***

Two Years Later

The newest exhibit proves to be a hit. It’s smaller than its predecessors, this time only containing the work from a single artist.

She and Harry walk hand-in-hand, greeting all of guests and just enjoying each other’s company. Gramps isn’t moping as much as he usually does, and she thinks it’s because Nan’s bought him a clip-on tie that doesn’t strangle him around the neck. Ava and Nan are gossiping with some potential investors, while her dad tries to apologize on their behalf.

On the other side, her mum and Lawrence discuss color theory in relation to one of the spotlight pieces. She catches a glimpse of the civility between her parents when they catch each other’s eyes from across the room.

“I think it’s the gallery’s best showcase yet,” Harry tells her and kisses her on the lips. “Really, I don’t see how anything might top this.”

Y/n laughs. “You’re just trying to get laid.”

Harry wags his eyebrows. “Is it working?” She doesn’t need to give him an answer with words, so instead, she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket and their lips meet in another sweet kiss.

They stop in front of the piece in the very back, the one that’s drawn in the most viewers. They squeeze through the polluted crowd until they’re close enough to the front. He wraps his arms around her, and they both admire its beauty.

Two kids laid out on the grass; eyes closed with content smiles on their faces. The sky above them, a product of their combined imaginations as well as the excitement of hopes and dreams.

Below the canvas is a placcard with the painting’s information.

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

#harry styles #harry style imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles au #one direction #writing

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