#because i played it and saw a reflection of the world ive always known

[assless-chapstick]

bragg creek, alberta. July.

[37q]

thank you so much for the sources and directives wrt tara :) i'm not a buddhist (yet?) but i've been reading a lot about the female deities of dharmic traditions, shaktism, the Mahavidya, etc. and honestly the idea of being heard, understood and protected by an all-powerful feminine entity feels like salvation to me right now. like, i crave tara's Liberation more than any other gift or miracle she could give me atm lol how did you get into buddhism and the tara practice btw?

my dearly unacquainted your words struck a chord in my chest. i hope you read this, its for you and me and everyone like us.

the search for liberation is endless and i hope tara can show you how to break the cycle. please, read this message as a journey. if i play u the melody, can you hear the karmic harmonies?

i got into buddhism because im a woman who refuses to be one. growing up trying to be something thats harmful to myself and others, where everyones place in line comes from hideous cruelty, covert or otherwise, and being trained under social conditions which ultimately seek to accelerate mass suffering via systemic domination -- that all made me a little sensitive to the idea of anything being "fixed".

maybe i should say -- i craved impermanence. please dont let this be innate. this cant be forever. what i am, everything thats been done to me, all their pain. i saw my pain everywhere else, in everyone else. i saw my pain before and after me, i saw everyones pain in their walk in life and i saw the pain held over our heads. it was hard not to see it as connected, like everyone is just clinging to our histories of interdependent pain and it makes us who we are. gender made it obvious, although thats a basic benefit of feminist standpoint epistemology.

i got into buddhism because in order to survive i needed a respite from the systemic suffering caused by social attachments. gender, like all phenomena, must be impermanent or people like us are doomed. fundamentally i wanted a world of compassion and empathy, forgiveness and change. buddhism offers such a path. despite my desire for it to serve as a refuge from gendered violence however, its clear that there is a current of antifeminism or general misogyny present in many sanghas. i recoiled more into cycles of womanhood once i felt my status as a human mightve been called into question.

stranger, do me a favor? pause and read tara's vow, reflect on all this a bit before going on.

do you know what bodhicitta is? its the endeavor to achieve true liberation, buddhahood, for the sake of all living beings. the pursuit of ending the suffering of all living beings, only reaching liberation with everyone else. returning with each life to the suffering world of samsara, bound by the restraints of our worlds attachments. remember this.

i found my way to chenrezigs lineage and the impacts of his legacy as bodhisattva of compassion. ohhhh how important buddhist compassion has been to me. always aiming for selflessness but avoiding habitual nihilism. dissolution rather than destruction, seeing through the conditions and loving the emptiness inside.

(recommended reading for the next part isnt dharma, its monique wittigs One Is Not Born A Woman.)

my first step in finding female solace in a doctrine of non-attachment was with his female form known to some as guanyin, or guanshiyin, who hears the cries of the world. she always lacked a certain... bite my practice needed. in my experience emancipatory compassion is disruptive sometimes. we connected, dont get me wrong, but it was hard to separate her pacifism from the training ive received in gendered submission.

well, then i found green tara, or she found me or something, not to get too new age-y. guanyin, the surveyor and listener, contrasted with tara, already stepping out to take action. my personal relationship with her is one whose compassion cuts through my karma. deep enough compassion tears down the walls of our attachments.

ive always been troubled to find this-world radical applications of the dharma, or to find this-world radicalism in the dharma itself. reproducing the gendered self by looking for reflections of my social conditions in a god is not radical, but dissolving the self without addressing these unjust social conditions isnt radical either...

in her vow, that tara returns. just like any other bodhisattva she heeds the constraints of her rebirth and transforms those chains into a vehicle of liberation. the "karma" of womanhood is a mere microcosm of samsara's suffering, she says, and as a bodhisattva she is an expert in engineering mechanisms of suffering into dharmic opportunities.

that womanhood, that divine femininity we see in her. ugh. such an illusion -- we project it in others minds! such falsehood -- its conceptual boundaries dont reflect reality! such conditionality -- in ourselves, throughout history, how we enact it! such instability -- we require life long conditioning and policing to maintain its peaceful performance!

stranger, do me another favor? read through the short green tara practice. meditate on what it means to look for solace in divine reflections.

do you know why the bulk of even basic tantric visualization practices are inaccessible to the uninitiated? two examples. one is that it requires education and training in action rooted in dharma versus action rooted in attachment. another is that it requires a deep understanding of emptiness.

when you look for tara youre looking for help. you need the second part of a hug. youre in crisis, and you need to get out. total solitude and nowhere left to turn. we reach this point in our lives where we can barely even find joy within ourselves, so we look for transcendental salvation elsewhere.

tantric practices employ, for the sake of this piece, two basic assumptions. one is that yidam visualization, such as with tara, manifests the persisting merits of the yidam nondually, so neither from within or without. another is that desire can serve dharmic purposes when not rooted in attachment.

lets revisit visualization. when you look for tara you look for help. you look for someone like you, as stable as divinity can get. she is separate from you, yet you see yourself in her.

visualization takes that projection a step beyond via what some call "manifestation", and so that requisite understanding of emptiness comes into play here, as does the knowledge of desire not rooted in attachment. it requires a practitioner with no self from which to draw attachments in their work. so i want you to listen closely.

when youre more attached to your karmic conditions than you are to liberation, you will bring that suffering with you in your path.

read that again. i am explicitly warning you from finding feminine solace in tara.

returning to samsara ad infinitum, rebirth only as a woman, manifesting taras protection, these actions seek to abolish the processes which allow their existence. to end the cycle of rebirth, to end the cycle of reproducing gender in our liberation, to end the cycle of reproducing the self and the god. these actions require you to dissolve their fundamental, impermanent dualities before you can free yourself with them.

when you attempt to visualize tara while still clinging to an impermanent sense of self such as with gender, she loses all emancipatory potential. her merit twists, soiled with your attachments to a divinely persisting feminine, female, or womanhood, serving only to reproduce those mechanisms of suffering within you.

i want you to interrogate these little things you do to feel better about your suffering in life. please, acknowledge that gender causes suffering. whether it be its systemic enforcement or because of our attachment to something ultimately impermanent, please recognize that looking to deify something so fraught will only hurt you.

ask tara where one can even find refuge on a sinking ship. ask her how she found liberation in something meant to subjugate. start to wonder where all the answers are coming from, doubt your sanity, try to find the border between yourself and her and find nothing. find that everywhere else, too.

dearly unacquainted your search is your karma. your findings will be your karma. tara asks you to stop searching, stop finding. she will show you the dead end, and i ask that you address that proactively rather than keep digging.

reblogging with links to side reading :)

[callmethehunter]

I've read a few fics by different authors about Robert, and I'm kinda confused. They portray him in different ways, so what's his personality like in different aspects? I know that he's extroverted (I saw him getting typed as an ENFJ) and extra, and has a warm heart, but what about his flirtiness and apparent hedonism? How does his rural ideals contrast with touring? I know people are multifaceted and no one's flawless, but I still wanna know some things for certain.

Oh dear Anon, you have made my day! These are great questions about my favorite subject in the world: Robert Plant.:D And as far as that goes, I could (and will) go on and on about this forever, I’ve got so much to say!!

I’ve been obsessed with Robert’s music as well as with his personal life for years. I find him to be a multifaceted, highly talented and intelligent person who embodies traits that one would think were mutually exclusive, yet are somehow at home in him. He is without a doubt, totally outrageous and extroverted, he wants to be the center of attention, yet he is also reclusive, a deep thinker who is keenly aware of the world around him while also being introspective and self-aware. In his own words he has said

“It's part of me to get off on those moments where... well, what people would call attention. Obviously, that isn't the be-all and end-all of life, but at the states of creativity that I've reached, well, it helps the lyrics along a little bit.”

“ I’m pleased with how ridiculous I am. I like me. Though I’m not a huge fan. I know when to switch me off.”

I do think he has a very warm heart. He is genuinely interested in other people, in experiencing the most out of any given situation.

In my opinion, he loves the idea and the feeling of falling in love. He gets off more on that than on the longevity of it. It’s like he’s got ADHD in the aspect of love lol!! I say this because of the number of serious relationships (and not so serious relationships) that he has had in his life. I’m sure he was saddened when they ended, but then he’s moved on to the next great infatuation and adventure. He’s quite capable of starting again, as he has shown multiple times both in his personal and professional life. But I also think it’s a testimony to his heart that he’s been able to continue to be friends with his past loves. “There have been people I've warmed to over the years but, as the situation I'm in is so fleeting and transient, I've always known it's going to be over kind of real quick.”

I mean think about this: after having children with two sisters, Maureen (his exwife) and Shirley, they have been able to raise their children in what looks like a loving extended family. His sons, Logan (with Maureen) and Jesse (with Shirley), are half-brothers as well as first cousins. Just think on that for a moment. In a recent picture, there’s the entire family on vacation: Maureen, Shirley and their children with Robert, as well as Robert and a previous girlfriend, Jessica something or other (don’t remember her name). He’s not confined to societal conventions. He could give a flying fuck. I love that free spirit and he himself has said (and I paraphrase) that he may come across as being a good mate, but in reality he’s out to do whatever the fuck he wants. (And it shows!! )

He says, “...if you do what you think is right for the benefit of everybody and everything and you make decisions, then to go back and regret them afterwards - it's a futile experience and it's not worth thinking about. Because life just unfolds. Provided you do your best and you think you're on the right track, you can only be right or wrong. But to regret it - I don't think there are any huge errors or misdemeanors.”

In the area of friendship, however, he is fiercely loyal. He and Bonzo were like brothers till the end, and even still, Robert honors his dear friend. He’s also been able to maintain friendships with so many people from his hometown- people he knew before he was famous. He puts away the trappings of fame and fortune to be the good old Black Country boy, riding horses and playing with goats, walking around in the forests and enjoying nature.

“I think I could sing and shear a few sheep at the same time.” he says. He is the picture of the word “earthiness”. Able to be the rock god on stage as well as the humble farmer on the farm or at the local pub. He’s loyal to his soccer team and to the sport itself which has been a lifelong passion. I love that in him.

Is he a hedonist? Absolutely!! he has tasted every pleasure there is to taste. His every material wish could be a reality in an instant...He has done drugs, had hundreds of one night stands. He is a highly sensual man. IMO the sexiest man that’s ever walked the planet. His sizeable bulge perpetually stands as a symbol (no pun intended) of his virility and lust (and I like it!!) He exudes charisma and raw sexual energy. He’s done it all to the highest level, partied and cavorted around the globe. What a life he’s lived!!

But he is also soulful- in his lyrics there is also a deep spiritual side of him: I think he is a modern day troubadour and philosopher. His lyrics touch on that, “it is the springtime of my loving” ….“In the light you will find the road” “when all is one and one is all” “Then as it was, then again it will be, though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea” and I could go on and on with other examples. These are just what popped in my head. “I am a reflection of what I sing. Sometimes I have to get serious because the things Ive been through are serious” He’s experienced moments where he is the “golden god” as well as tragic moments such as the loss of his 5 year old son and the loss of his dear friend Bonzo. These are definitely reflected in his music.

And finally, in his own words:

“I'm like one of those firecrackers that goes off in your pocket occasionally. I'm not really struggling with it as much as the people around me. But at least I'm not doing too much damage to anybody or to myself. It's just the condition I'm aware of."

And he’s still got a twinkle in him and always will.

Thank you for letting me go and on about this man, he holds such a special place in my heart. He is a beautiful and joyous old hippie full of wisdom and talent. He has created a lasting legacy and I hold the deepest admiration for him, despite his human frailties or shortcomings.

If you have read this far, you deserve a kiss and a medal! Thanks so much for this ask!!

[ruewrites]

Wait asks being open means requests are open right??? If yes OH MY GOD IVE BEEN PRAYING FOR THIS DAY SINCE AGES

Could you pls pls pls pls do a dialuci fic except it's a royal au? Like dia and Luci are set to get married but Luci didn't want to until he saw Dia?? I know this isn't your primary ship but it would mean the WORLD to me (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

Meeting His Prince

AO3

Ship: Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2008

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi Anon! First of all, thank you. When I finished up WBT, I was thinking about writing a royalty au, and this request acutally made me plot it out. I guess this will be a psuedo prequel to it? But I want Dialuci to be a ship in it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Lucifer had his clothing pressed and his crown polished. A crowned prince had to make a good impression being the shining jewel of the growing empire of Arcadia. Yet it wasn’t his clothing that worried his father. It was Lucifer’s expression.

To say he was happy was far from correct. Lucifer never gave much thought to marriage. Honestly, he’d be happy ruling Arcadia without anyone by his side. He’d spent much of his time caring for his siblings and learning how to rule over the kingdom, so an heir wasn’t an idea he was fond of. It was something he knew had been expected of him as well. Producing a strong line of future kings and queens to lead Arcadia had been in the stars for him according to his father. 

Perhaps he had read the stars wrong.

The memory of Father bursting through the palace doors uttering curses under his breath. Apparently the prince had been rather persistent with his demands. His father wanted to make an alliance with this kingdom horribly so. Apparently the prince was rather effective in the way he ruled and was a skilled strategist. He would be a powerful addition to Arcadia, but he was stubborn once he’d made his decision. Strategist indeed if he could get the King of Arcadia to give into his demands. The anger in the king’s eyes when he told Lucifer that he had been chosen burned Lucifer’s very soul.

Lucifer knew where this anger was coming from, not that he cared all that much. He’d never really given too much thought to what his paternal figure wanted from him. Why start now?

His siblings had all had varying reactions: sighing about the ‘romance’ of the situation, poking fun at him, and in some cases offering sympathy. He just wanted to stay neutral about it. The end goal for him was to be a worthy future king of Arcadia, this was just a stepping stone he had to take to get there. Other issues surrounding this engagement could be figured out with time. He had time. He just needed to stay level headed. 

He hadn’t noticed the clock ticking down to his wedding day, he hadn’t even realized that he’d never met his fiance despite the flood of letters that were sent his way once a month.  It seemed odd. Lucifer wasn’t really sure how to react to the attention and aggressive affection. The entire situation felt more like a relationship with a paramour rather than an arranged marriage for the good of their kingdoms. For now, it was best to push it to the back of his mind and deal with it when the time came. There wasn’t any point in fighting anything lest he cause conflict that would certainly affect more people than just him. 

Ah the life of being a royal.

Lovely wasn’t it? 

The day of the foreign prince’s arrival, Lucifer spent hours pacing around the palace overlooking every tiny detail. Of course he could change his mind at any moment and Lucifer couldn’t have that happen. This was for the good of Arcadia. He glanced over the arrangement of food on the table one last time before letting out a sigh. 

Composure was key.

He was the pride of Arcadia.

Nothing could break him.

Nothing could throw him off guard.

Nothing-

“Lucifer!”

Lucifer didn’t even have time to process the situation. Strong arms wrapped around him, suffocating him in a tight embrace. He struggled, gasping for air and attempting to escape from the steel grip capturing him. When he did manage some distance, his hair was a mess and his clothes were disheveled. 

Golden eyes met his own, sparkling like gold coins reflecting the summer sun. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person,” the other prince’s voice came out as a whisper, as firm hands gently cupped his face, “You’re as radiant as an angel-”

He was a puppy. A giant puppy. 

“Oh how lucky I am to be married to such a gorgeous man.”

“We’re not married yet,“ Lucifer hoped he didn’t sputter as he pulled away.  This was hardly the professional meeting he’d been expecting. This was their first time meeting before their wedlock, and Lucifer had been thrown off balance.

He could do professional.

He couldn’t do whatever… whatever this was.

“Well, we’ll be married soon.”

“Your Highness-”

“Diavolo.”

Lucifer stopped in his tracks. All he could do was stare at those big shiny eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Please call me by my name. I’d like to hear how perfect it sounds on your tongue,” Diavolo repeated.

Heat rose into Lucifer’s face and he hoped it didn’t show. Quickly, he turned away and started walking towards one end of the table. “In any case, you’ve had a long trip. Why don’t-”

No sooner had Lucifer sat than Diavolo swooped in to scoot a chair closer to him. This man really didn’t have any sense of personal space did he? This was unfamiliar territory. Lucifer expected him to sit on the opposite end, allowing him to keep some distance between them. That’s how people were to stay. At a nice, respectable distance to be observed and to exchange pleasantries, but no closer. Diavolo was a stranger, yet he refused to act like one.

“I want to know everything about you,” Diavolo sounded as if he was marvelling at a being from another word. It was an unsettling feeling, “You’re favorite music, what you like to do in your free time, everything about you.”

Lucifer scooted away ever so slightly. Diavolo followed. 

“Why would you care about any of that?” 

This was business.

“Because we’re getting married.”

That didn’t mean he had to know anything about Lucifer.

But Diavolo had a nice laugh. It was booming and made Lucifer’s lips twitch upward ever so slightly. Everything about him was warm. Warmth Lucifer had never known before. 

He tried to touch his face once more, Lucifer turned away. It was instinct. Lucifer wasn’t accustomed to being touched. 

“You act like no one’s ever acted like this with you before!”

“That’s because no one has,” his eye glanced toward Diavolo, “My family isn’t exactly touchy.”

More specifically his father. He didn’t like touchiness, he thought it would make them weak. Therefore, physical affection wasn’t common when their father was around, especially not with Lucifer. He was their crown prince. He needed to be strong and rule without anything in his way. 

Diavolo’s demeanor changed, his shoulders fell, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not anything worth pitying. It happened and there’s nothing that can be done to change it,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair, “It’s what he thought best for the future of Arcadia.”

You threw a wrench in his plans.

And for that, well, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied. After pushing him and his siblings to follow certain path all of their lives, it was nice to see something not go as planned for a change. Lucifer wouldn’t be having heirs, and that was fine by him.  Any interruption counted as a victory for him, no matter how small. 

“I am sorry,” Diavol’s voice was more even and calmer than it had been before, “For how I have been behaving though. It must have been startling to you. Please forgive me.”

Lucifer turned his head back towards him and quirked his eyebrow.

“My own father was very affectionate when I was young, I suppose I just miss it, and I’d like to share that with you, if you’ll allow me.”

Lucifer thought for a moment, allowing silence to permeate in the room. If asked, he’d say he did it to make Diavolo sweat, but in reality he was genuinely thinking it over. “I suppose, perhaps with time.”

The way he beamed made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat, “Then let’s get to dinner and start to know each other a little better, shall we?”

***

Enjoying the evening had not been on Lucifer’s list of things to do, but he wouldn’t complain.

“You like dogs? I could get you a dog as a wedding present.”

Lucifer laughed, “Father wouldn’t allow it. He’s not fond of animals.”

“Well he can’t stop me from getting a present that you would like. “

This man defying his father? Heavens help them. Perhaps Lucifer liked him a little more than he thought. It wasn’t something he was used to. He’d never had a relationship like this before. This was the first time he felt like he’d had a genuine conversation with someone outside of his family. For once, Lucifer felt a little relaxed. 

Diavolo was genuinely interested in what Lucifer liked. He wrote down how Lucifer took his tea, wanted to listen to all of his favorite songs with him, and what he liked to do in his free time. He wanted to play chess with him and spend time with him in any way he could.

It made Lucifer’s feel warm and his chest lurch. He loved the smile that found its way onto his face and how Diavolo’s voice surrounded him. Perhaps he’d found a new favorite song.

He felt like he’d known Diavolo for ages.

He made it easier for Lucifer to breathe.

“Diavolo-”

Diavolo froze. His eyes went wide again, “You said my name.”

Lucifer didn’t get a chance to move before he was being lifted off the ground and spun in the air. Diavolo’s booming laugh surrounded them. 

“Oh you said my name! And it was perfect! More than perfect!” he lowered Lucifer only to bring him into a kiss. Now it was Lucifer’s turn to freeze. His face quickly turned red as his eyes flew open. He stiffened, and tried to bring himself back. He’d never been kissed before. A crown prince had to be careful when it came to his image, and he’d had more important things to focus on than starting romances that would lead to nowhere. He’d always known he’d be married off to someone else, so he didn’t really see a point in seeking out others for romance.

Lucifer never thought about what it would be like to be kissed.

He wasn’t exactly sure about what to think now. 

When Diavolo pulled away the terror seemed to set it. “Oh I’m sorry! I- I went too far-” 

As he mumbled, Lucifer felt himself come back. It was when he realized how nervous the other prince was.  He was energetic and was the opposite of Lucifer himself. Instead of going silent like Lucifer did, Diavolo seemed to ramble even more. With a chuckle and the shake of his head, Lucifer put his finger tips under Diavolo’s chin and brought his focus back to him. 

Lucifer wasn’t one to be won over so easily, but there was something about this man that made him think their union wouldn’t be a bad one. Perhaps he could make his life a little more interesting. 

If he could force his father into doing something that he didn’t want to do, like agreeing to the condition of Diavolo getting to marry his crown prince, Lucifer figured he would like him.

“I will have to kiss my husband eventually, you’re an awfully excitable man Diavolo. I think I quite enjoy that about you,” he smiled, before placing a gentler kiss onto his lips. 

If Diavolo wanted to play the role of adoring husband Lucifer wouldn’t stop him. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Perhaps he could rule Arcadia with another person effectively after all.

When they pulled away, Lucifer caressed his face, “I think I could see myself participating in acts of affection in private.”

He and Diavolo walked a little closer on the rest of their stroll, and he found himself leaning into his shoulder every now and again. 

Perhaps he could get used to this.

Perhaps he would lead Arcadia into a new age, and be an even better ruler with Diavolo at his side.

It would be a future to look forward to.

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟐𝟔.𝟑𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: As you’re all aware, the Philippines was hit by a category 5-equivalent super typhoon two weeks ago. The typhoon is the world’s strongest storm this year and has brought with it unimaginable destruction. Here’s a link to #RescuePH where you can read more about what’s happening in the Philippines right now. There are also donation links there! If you don’t have the means to donate – which is very understandable - here’s a link to a video to watch on YouTube where all ad revenue goes to those affected by the typhoon! I have learned so much about Filipino culture these last few months writing ST as well as gotten to know some incredible Filipinos along the way, and the news of the typhoon has rocked me to my core. If you feel like, you can play the video in the background while you’re reading this massive chapter! Enjoy the final chapter 🧡💛 I love you all so much!

Sunday, 9 August

“It’s a beautiful day out,” Y/N’s mother said as she looked out over Porthminster Beach, leaning her head back a little and letting a salty breeze rustle up her grey hair. “Shame we’re spending it in the shade.”

Y/N glanced up at the roof overhead that offered rescue in the sweltering summer sun. Though she loved the sun as well and wanted to spend as much time in it as possible before summer ended soon, she knew that this chat would have her sweating enough without them sitting out of the shade the Porthminster Beach Café provided. Y/N looked down at her iced lemon tea, inhaling slowly as to calm herself. All day yesterday, Y/N had been too anxious to do anything but stay in her room and think about today. While in the lighthouse the day before yesterday, Y/N had sent her mother a text message asking if the two of them could talk without her father or Dominic being present. She knew her mother would’ve told them by now where she was and what she was doing, but she appreciated the fact that she had listened to Y/N’s request and not brought them.

“Didn’t get to go to a proper beach this summer,” Mrs McKay went on, eyes on the sea and where the waves crashed softly against shore. “The family could’ve gone someplace nice, would’ve been good for us.”

Y/N didn’t say anything.

“Think we all just need a break. Go somewhere to forget about everything and reflect on our lives.”

Y/N still kept her mouth shut, knowing that she had to choose her words carefully so that her mother would fully understand.

“Do you remember when we went to that beach in Florida and you saw that sting ray?” Mrs McKay chuckled a little to herself.

“And I screamed for help ‘cause it scared me.”

Mrs McKay laughed some more at the memory, studying the beach some more. “That was truly something else. Not something you’d normally do.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that.

“Don’t you miss those days? When everything was simple?” Mrs McKay seemed to be completely lost in her own head and memories, thinking back to a time she had clearly glorified.

“I don’t…” Y/N trailed off, furrowing her brows. “I don’t think everything was that simple back then, or now, for that matter.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs McKay asked. “Don’t you think the family would benefit from taking some time off and just relax like we did back then?”

“It’s…” Y/N glanced at her iced tea. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if it would’ve been a good idea for the family to reconnect again?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not? We need to talk about everything that’s happened these past few months. And especially what happened two days ago, because your father and I agree, Y/N, that was very irresponsible of you, throwing yourself out of a moving vehicle like that.”

“I know it was, I’m aware,” she said. “But in that moment, and I think you know this deep down, that was the only solution. You wouldn’t have stopped to let me out.”

Mrs McKay sighed. “We should definitely think about that holiday I just suggested, it’d be nice.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, studying her mother for a moment before she spoke for the first time in a few minutes. “I don’t… I don’t think it would be, Mum.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wouldn be nice to go on that holiday.”

Mrs McKay finally looked at her daughter, eyes following her outline slowly with a slight tilt to her head as if she was trying to assess what was best to say in this sort of situation. “The beach is always nice.”

“I wasn’t referring to the beach. I was referring to family time.”

Mrs McKay nodded her head slowly, bringing her glass of water up to her lips to take a slow sip.

“I think… I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while now. I think you’ve known it would happen as well.”

Her mother didn’t answer.

“I just… I just want to talk about everything and what’s gonna happen going forward. I don’t want there to be anything left unsaid after this.”

Mrs McKay kept her eyes on the table and nodded again. “Alright. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well… a lot, really.”

“Better start then.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, taking a quick sip of her iced tea before she turned her attention back on her mother, reaching for the ball of courage she had gathered from thinking about and getting ready for this the past two days. “I think ever since I was born, you’ve put pressure on me to live the kind of life you couldn’t when you were younger. When you got me, you saw possibility to make something right that you yourself hadn’t been able to.-”

“-That’s not true.”

“Let me finish. I think, until you got me, you were lonely. Dad wasn’t exactly a fucking dream-“

“-Watch your language.-“

“-And you didn’t really have any friends, so the second I was born, you finally had someone. You could do whatever you wanted with me. Or at least, that’s what you thought,” Y/N said. “You projected this image onto me of what you thought the perfect daughter, the perfect woman, would be, and ‘cause I was terrified of letting you and Dad down, I went along.”

“You’d never do that.”

“But I have. And I will.”

Mrs McKay furrowed her brows, but before she was able to say anything else – though she’d talk over people if she so had to, Y/N knew.

“I’ve been so conflicted, mum.” Y/N heard her own voice break, and it wasn’t till then that she realised that she was close to tears. The lines between Mrs McKay’s brows deepened at the sound. “Part of me hates you.”

Mrs McKay’s face fell at that.

“It hates you so much. It hates you for the days you told me you noticed I’d lost weight and how beautiful I now looked, it hates you for never being interested to listen to me talk about what I’m passionate about, it hates you for belittling said passions and making me feel stupid for having ambitions.”

“Y/N-“

“-It hates you for making me feel conflicted when I first followed my dreams, ‘cause I didn’t know if I was supposed to follow my own or the ones you’d laid out for me just to please you momentarily. Hates you for the trauma you caused me. For the countless hours spent in front of a mirror pointing out my flaws, and taking a really long time to realise that said flaws aren’t that. For hearing your voice in my head when I make a mistake, telling me how I should’ve known better.”

Now it was Mrs McKay’s turn to be stunned to silence, just watching Y/N with a steel face, refusing to show any sign of emotion.

“But…” Y/N dug her nails into her palms, telling herself that she could cry when she got back to the Inn, but not now. “But the other part of me, one that I hate most of all, still loves you.”

Mrs McKay’s lip was a thin line and Y/N recognised that face. That face appeared when her mother was unsure of how to feel about something, but by the looks of the slight tremor in her cheeks, Y/N knew her words had gotten through.

Y/N sobbed, hoping no one around them could hear and that no one she knew were around to witness this. “It loves you ‘cause you’re my mum. You brought me into this world, and you’ve stuck by me. You made me feel loved when I was younger, and I used to look up to you. You used to be my role model.”

Mrs McKay looked away.

“That part makes me feel so horrible, ‘cause how can you love someone who brought you so much self-loathing and misery? How is that possible?” Y/N was quick to wipe away the tear on her cheek. “But I do. I can’t erase that or you from my memory. Part of me is going to miss you after this.”

Mrs McKay met Y/N’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to contact me again. None of you. Not you, not Dad, not Dominic.”

Mrs McKay looked absolutely dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon?”

“You three brought me so much torment I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

“Y/N, you’re being ridiculous-“

“-If you want to contact me or meet me, you have to ask me via text message if I am okay with that. If I say yes, that only makes it a one-time thing, we are not going to stay in contact after it. If I say no, don’t try to persuade me, manipulate me, or make me feel bad about it. I’m pushing you out of my life for a reason.”

“Try to think rationally for once-“

“-If you do not respect this and come after me again, I’ll file a restraining order against you, Dad, and Dominic. Won’t look too good on Dad’s record now, will it?”

Mrs McKay just sat there staring again.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Mrs McKay didn’t react.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Y/N nodded then, picking up her iced tea and hoping her mum didn’t see how her hand was trembling slightly.

“You don’t want any contact with your family? The people who are supposed to love you unconditionally-“

“-You might love me, but it’s not in a way that’ll help me grow. Which is what love is all about. St Ives and the people I’ve met here, those are my family. This is home now.”

Mrs McKay took a few moments to think before she said, with a voice so ice cold it made Y/N’s hair stand on end, “You can’t choose your family. You’re put into this world- you’re placed somewhere, where you belong.”

“No. Family and belonging are not synonymous. You are my birth family, but I can choose who I consider to be in my closest circle, the people that mean the most to me,” Y/N said. “You are not that.”

A short silence stretched out between them before Mrs McKay said, “What about your father’s business? The one he inherited from his father, your grandfather.”

“What about it?” Y/N asked. “You never even bothered to tell me what it is.”

“Oh, it’s got something to do with electronic pins. You know those you have in your phone?”

Y/N just looked at her mother.

“I’ve never bothered to ask much, Y/N, it hasn’t ever been very interesting to me.”

“Maybe it would’ve been to me if you’d just let me in on it from the start instead of assuming I was too dim to take on the role as CEO.”

Mrs McKay’s eyes narrowed as if she was about to protest, but she must’ve realised her daughter was speaking the truth because she did not object.

“Can’t Dad just let someone else be CEO? Someone who is actually good at their job instead of giving the job away to Dominic?”

“Dom is qualified for the role.”

“Sure, but he’s also a fucking arsehole.”

Mrs McKay winced at Y/N’s words.

“Mum, you never even wanted me to know what Dad was doing. Let alone want me to take over for him. It’s never been a problem before that I won’t take over after him, dunno why it would be now.”

Mrs McKay just looked at Y/N, their conversation on replay in her head it seemed because she was conflicted. For the longest time, they just stared at one another and realised what this meant. Y/N had been ready for this conversation for a while now, even though she hadn’t realised how badly it needed to be had till this very second. Mrs McKay, nor the other two that had come here, had truly known how Y/N felt before last night. What Y/N had said along with her actions must have spoken volumes. But this, Y/N was aware, took the cake. She was telling her mother, a person who had given up next to everything for Y/N in a sense, to never contact her again unless she had to. It had to sting, and Y/N knew that she would miss her mother sometimes. Those moments when they’d laugh at something together or those early years where Y/N remembered idolising her mum. She’d miss that. But she would also be so much happier without her in her life.

“Well,” Mrs McKay said, voice trembling. “I should be heading back to your dad. He won’t be too happy about the news.”

“Mum, you can leave him.”

The pitiful smile that graced Mrs McKay’s face after that made Y/N cringe. “I won’t.”

Y/N nodded, watching as her mother got up from her seat. She did as well, giving her mother a small smile to offer some peace, to tell her that it would all be okay. At least in Y/N’s world. Y/N could tell that her mother hesitated at first, but once she stepped forward with her arms spread wide, Y/N walked straight into her embrace. They hugged each other tighter than they had ever hugged before, savouring this last, this peaceful moment that they had together.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” her mum said, rubbing her daughter’s back.

“Bye, Mum.”

They stepped away from one another and her mother smiled at her again. Y/N swore she could see tears welling up in her mother’s eyes, but she chose not to point it out, fully aware that she was about to cry herself. Mrs McKay drank the rest of her water, looked one last time into Y/N’s eyes, and then walked past her, down the stairs, and out of sight.

Monday, 10 August

The teapot was empty and all the biscuits were gone, meaning that Florence, Camila, and Barb were leaving The Roaming Crab Inn. The five of them had been knitting for hours now, and though Y/N had finished her project a while ago, she wanted to spend some more time with the knitting ladies before doing what she had to do. Florence folded the jumper she was working on and Barb hummed some sort of melody while Camila talked everyone’s ears off.

“I’m telling you,” Camila said, putting away her glasses. “The sleeves on this dress are way too big.”

“No, they’re not.” Bessie got up from her seat and walked over to Camila, taking the baby doll lemon dress out of Camila’s hands. Lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose, she took a closer look. “How many were you supposed to cast off?”

“Three.”

“But then this is correct, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Camila sighed, taking hold of the dress when Bessie gave it back to her.

“Besides, your granddaughter won’t notice if you did the sleeves wrong.”

Camila looked right up at Bessie with narrowed eyes. “So, you admit I made a mistake?”

“No, I just pointed out that if you did, your granddaughter would hardly see it.” Bessie turned back around to go sit down in her chair, meeting Y/N’s eyes and making a grimace as to say that whatever Camila had just knitted, couldn’t have been correct. She sat back down again as Y/N gathered all the cups and the biscuit tray, carrying it all back inside to the kitchen where she put it in the dishwasher.

“Bye, darling,” Barb smiled as she walked past the kitchen. “Your cardigan’s looking wonderful.”

“Thank you, Barbara. See ya,” Y/N smiled, walking upstairs to put on her green woollen jumper. It was getting rather cold out as evening approached, and though Y/N had just finished knitting her summer project, it wasn’t hers to wear. Looking out the window, she saw the glass with a bouquet of dead flowers still standing in her windowsill. She didn’t have the heart to throw it away since doing so would be like binning the last piece of this summer she still had left. Forcing herself to look away, Y/N blinked away the stinging in her eyes as she started walking back down the stairs and the back garden.

All the other ladies had gone, meaning that it was just Y/N and Bessie left. Bessie still sat knitting, smiling at Y/N as she stepped outside.

“Want me to make another brew?” Y/N asked, adjusting her white summer dress under her oversized jumper.

“No, me lover, that’s quite alright. Thank you, though.”

Y/N smiled, sitting back down in her seat and picking up the cardigan. She was picking at some threads that were poking out, some of the many flaws in her first ever knitting project, when Bessie put her vest down and glanced over at her. Y/N looked back at her, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly.

“Is something the matter?” Y/N asked.

“You tell me.”

Y/N huffed, looking back down at her cardigan. “Depends what you’re referring to, I guess.”

Bessie sighed a bit, putting the vest on the table before them. “You haven’t spoken about that chat you had with your mum yesterday.”

Y/N inhaled slowly. “It was a lot to process.”

“We got time.”

Looking up at the older woman again, Y/N was greeted with one of Bessie’s signature warm smiles.

“I told her that I don’t want her, Dad, or Dominic to ever contact me again. She got a bit defensive, but she agreed not to contact me unless necessary.”

Bessie nodded her head slowly. “Do you think she’ll keep that promise?”

“She will, I’m less certain about Dad and Dom.”

Bessie huffed, leaning back against the back of her chair. “That’s men for you, never listen to what a woman has to say.”

“The right ones do.”

Bessie laughed, making Y/N smile a little. “Talking from experience, are you?”

Y/N hoped Bessie couldn’t see her cheeks heat up, but she was sure she noticed, hearing the older woman chuckle heartily before silence settled over them once again.

“You know,” Bessie started, knitting her vest again. “When I was younger, I drew the conclusion that family isn’t always blood and who you’ve spent the most time with. No, family is who makes you feel at home, who makes you feel safe, and loved.”

Y/N looked over at Bessie, biting her bottom lip as it threatened to wobble again.

“Family is who you make it. You don’t owe your parents anything. They might’ve brought you into this world, but they didn’t give you life, you did that yourself. When you decided to leave them, when you came here, when you applied for your UCAT, when you met Harry and everyone else. That’s life. You chose life.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile, her sight getting blurrier with each passing second, but she didn’t really care just then.

“I’m so proud of you for doing that. It takes a lot of courage to follow your dreams, especially when the environment around you tells you that said dreams aren’t worth it,” Bessie said. “But, you have to remember this, they always are. Every dream is worth it. It’s okay to feel sad after making the right decision.”

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips and Bessie looked up at once, putting the vest away to focus her attention on Y/N who was now full on crying. She hadn’t known how much she needed to hear those words till Bessie finally said them. Holding onto Bessie’s hand for dear life, Y/N looked into the innkeeper’s eyes, trying to smile again, but she couldn’t.

“Bessie, thank you,” Y/N said between sobs. “Truly, thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I love you; I love how far you’ve come.”

Y/N brought a hand up to her mouth, stopping a loud sob from coming out from between her lips. “I don’t know what to do now,” she said once she had calmed down a little. “I don’t know where to go, what to do, how I’m gonna handle University when the time comes. Like, I’ll be 26 by that time and everyone who’s starting will be almost ten years younger than me. It feels like everyone’s sprinted this marathon since forever, and I’ve fallen over and struggled to get up so many times that I’ve fallen behind. I don’t know how I’m gonna get back into the race, you know? I can’t win.”

Bessie pondered over Y/N’s words, watching her intently as she wiped more tears away from her face. “You can still win, Y/N. And even if you don’t win, you still did everything you could, and that’s just as good as winning, is it not?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her and Bessie’s joined hands.

“Life doesn’t wait for you. It doesn’t force you to do anything, it just drags you along on a journey and it’s your responsibility to do what you want with your time on earth. You are still so young, you have so much time to do whatever you wanna do. If you lost your youth to controlling parents, abuse, a partner you thought truly loved you but didn’t, if you lost your youth to mental illness, your life isn’t over. There’s no deadline for anything like that in life. If you wanna go to uni now, five-none years after everyone else you know went to uni, then that’s what you’re gonna do. Who says you have to be a certain age, or at a certain stage in your life, or be satisfied with how you look, act, feel, before doing something that ultimately will make you happy? That will make your life worth living? No, life isn’t gonna wait for you to catch up, no one will, but it’s gonna give you opportunities to right your wrongs, to do what will bring you happiness. There’s no deadline, you still have time.”

Y/N met Bessie’s eyes again and the older woman smiled at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“All the time in the world,” Bessie said.

“I just don’t know what to do. I just… this feels like home, but after everything that happened last Friday, I’m not sure people want me here.”

“Oh, we do,” Bessie said firmly. “People might not have been happy with you, but they won’t love you any less. This is still your home, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled.

“We are your family now, Y/N. If you need a mum, I’ll be your bloody mum.”

Y/N laughed, leaning forward and bringing Bessie into a hug. Out of everything she had done in the last few days, this was definitely a moment Y/N thought she would cherish forever. This entire summer, Bessie had stood by her. No matter what, Bessie had been beside Y/N, ready to help whenever she needed guidance, and Y/N was unsure if she had ever met someone so willing to love as Bessie. She clung a little tighter onto Bessie, feeling another tear roll down her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Bessie said, a smile in her voice. “Now, all you need to do is revise for the UCAT and give that cardigan to its rightful owner, eh?”

Y/N therefore took the cardigan with her up to her room and sat down by her desk. Though she was sure Harry was home, she was unsure if she’d have the courage to actually knock on the door and give it to him. It’d be better if she just left it there for him, though she knew that would also just look very weird. After everything, she had to face Harry, she was just unsure of how it was all going to play out. It took her a while to find the right words, and once she was done with her final draft letter, she put it on the desk beside the pile of disqualified letters, getting up to find her things and get ready for the trip to the lighthouse. With her stomach hurting from nerves, she put the cardigan in the tote bag, struggling to fit it as she reached for the desk, picking up the letter and shoving it into the tote bag.

With her tote bag on her shoulder, she started on her walk to the lighthouse. She had no idea what Harry would say when she showed up, if he would even allow her to enter his cottage at all. The three days that had passed since the end of summer party felt like ten years each, time had never moved slower. Y/N had waited for this moment for a while now. She had tried to gather the courage she would need for this. But, she kept telling herself this, if she managed to meet her mum and confront her about everything and told her, her dad, and Dominic to stay away from her, then she could walk to Clodgy Point and hand Harry a bloody cardigan. How hard could it be?

However, with each step she took that led her closer to the lighthouse, Y/N felt almost just as anxious, if not worse, than when she walked to meet her mother. There was something about facing Harry after everything that made her mouth dry up. She had absolutely no idea if he would want to see her again after everything, if he could even bear the sight of her after all she put his family and loved ones through. Not only had her father showed up to Jessa’s farm, but Harry had also been violently slammed against his own car and gone into hypo not long after. The mess that had been last Friday had made them both go through emotions neither thought would be possible to endure at once and during one single evening. She wondered if Harry knew she had been to the lighthouse and done the weather reports that night and the following morning.

Walking along Fore Street, Y/N gazed into the shops on either side of the pedestrian street, taking in life in St Ives as she didn’t know what would happen after today. She was originally set to check out of the Inn that morning, August 10th, but Bessie told her it would be alright if she wanted to leave by train later that day. Y/N didn’t know yet where she wanted to go or how far that would be, but all she knew was that she had to be in Plymouth on September 10th to take the UCAT. Besides that, her future looked to be very blurry. It all depended on what happened when she arrived at the lighthouse.

But as she strolled up the hill to Clodgy Point, she didn’t see Harry’s yellow van. Though this was weird at first, she tried to tell herself that he was still home. There hadn’t been a single time that summer when she’d shown up to Harry’s cottage and he hadn’t been there. He was always there.

Knocking on the door though, left Y/N standing there in silence for a single minute, the wild wind, seagulls, and sun overhead the only things keeping her company. She knew it was none of her business looking through the windows into his cottage, but she had to know if he was just ignoring her or if he really wasn’t there. She walked to the side of the house, looking in through the window just beside his bed, the one placed right beside the dining table. The place was empty. Sighing, she walked back over to the door and took her tote bag off her shoulder. She placed it in front of the door, hoping the wind wouldn’t blow it away, and then she got up and walked back the way she came.

It had been stupid to go there in the first place. Of course he wouldn’t be completely by himself after the hypo he had just a few days ago. His family and loved ones would most likely not allow him to be anywhere out of sight till they knew he was alright. Y/N refused to let her eyes start to sting again even though she could feel it coming on. The last few days she had been crying more than she ever had before. She never used to be a big crier, but something about being in St Ives and something about everything, the atmosphere and everyone in this town made her feel much more than before. It made her feel. It made her want.

Returning to the Inn, it was getting much darker out and Cornwall would soon be embraced once again by night. Y/N tried to look for Bessie inside, but the older woman must’ve gone home for a bit because she was nowhere to be seen. Y/N walked back up the steps and to her room, rummaging through her purse for her keys for what could be the last time. It seemed to take more time than usual and she groaned at herself, finding it harder to look for anything when it was so dark everywhere. The dim lighting of the stairs made her stop for a second. Taking a second to just narrow her eyes and get a closer look, Y/N was suddenly able to make out what it was she was seeing.

Bluebells, sea pinks, and hedgerow cranesbills laid neatly right before the door to her room. And though it looked almost just like the bouquets he had made her earlier, this one was almost entirely purple and made out of bellflowers. Y/N reached for it, picking it up and bringing it closer to her face, running her fingers over the soft petals gently as she felt her heart begin to pick up speed. It was as she smelled the flowers that she realised what this meant. Her eyes shot up and she just stared straight ahead at her door as she started breathing fast. He had been here. Harry had stopped by while she was walking to the lighthouse, dropping off the bouquet.

There was no time for hesitation as Y/N shot up into a standing position, running downstairs just as Bessie came back to the Inn.

“Oh! Hello, dear-“

“-Harry’s been here?” Y/N panted, standing in the doorway with the bouquet still in her hand.

Bessie’s eyes fell to the colourful flowers before she met Y/N’s eyes again. “He has.”

“When? Was it long ago?”

“Can’t remember, my darling, I just remember seeing his yellow car outside and there he was.” Bessie tutted softly. “It’s about to fall to pieces, that car of his.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

A small smile spread out over Bessie’s lips as if she understood exactly what was going on. “I did.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows impatiently. “And?!”

“He asked where you were.”

Y/N waved her hands frantically to get Bessie to tell her what she’d told him in return.

“Told him you’d gone to the lighthouse to find him.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face, inhaling hugely. “Alright. Okay. Deep breaths.”

Bessie watched the younger woman with amusement, cocking her head a little to the side as a knowing smile spread out over her face.

“I… I need to leave. I need to go,” Y/N said. “If he shows up again, tell him I’ll wait.” She ran over to the other side of the street as the sky overhead was a slight darkening blue, tinges of purple and pink along the horizon. She stopped as she got a glimpse of the lighthouse, finally seeing the light. A light that would guide her where she needed to be. And with that, Y/N set off. By Porthminster beach, through Fore Street, flying past slow walkers, running straight for Clodgy lighthouse. She felt the bouquet fall apart, leaving flowers along her path through St Ives in a desperate attempt to get to Harry. To get where she needed and where she was supposed to be.

Though it had been a trek walking up the stone path before, Y/N ran up it with ease this time around. She could see the lighthouse blinking its distinct pattern, could make out some light within the cottage along with the yellow van. A breath left her and her heart began to soar, that shred of hope that had been born from seeing the bouquet in the hotel blossomed. Out of breath and probably very sweaty, Y/N knocked on the door of the cottage. However, like last time, no one opened. So, Y/N tried again, but same luck this time around. She walked out onto the moors and squinted her eyes, trying to look about to see if she could make out Harry’s figure.

“Harry!” she shouted, whipping her head around in different directions to see where he was. “Harry!” She ran beyond the cottage, trying to make out anything, anything at all, against the flat moors. “Where are you?!”

“Y/N!”

It came from overhead. As if an angel was flying just high enough for the wind to carry some of his voice, but low enough so that Y/N could hear him clearly. Turning around, Y/N was sure she was seeing just that, an angel. Harry was standing on the gallery deck of the lighthouse, looking down at her. At the sight of him, Y/N felt an intense tingle go through her entire body. It was an overwhelming sort of happiness, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, and it surrounded her, made the air around her static with anticipation and adoration. The sky behind him was darkening so she couldn’t make out his face, but she would be able to do just that soon enough.

Smiling to herself, she ran for the door. She pulled it open and let it slam behind her as she ran up the steps. Past the office, past the bedroom, past everything, till she made it to the very top. Panting and thighs burning, she opened the door on the topmost floor. The ladder to the bell room stood to her right, but she turned left and walked out onto the gallery deck where she’d seen Harry.

There he stood, right under the blinking light. He was looking at her with his lips slightly parted, hair as unkempt as usual, and a look of relief and shock on his face. They were left there just staring at each other for a little while, neither of them able to voice what they had been thinking about for the last three days. Everything from her jumping out of the car to get him, to helping him with his hypo, to doing the weather report, to talking to her mum, and the cardigan. The cardigan. Y/N was ashamed of how long it had taken her to notice it, she blamed the darkening sky above them.

Harry was wearing the colourful square cardigan she had knitted him and placed in front of his door. The one she had put there not even an hour earlier along with her note. Biting her lips together, she let her eyes wander his body. She took in the Elton John tee shirt he was wearing and the loose light washed denim jeans along with his black Vans. But her eyes lingered on what he was holding in his hand. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath halted. Their eyes met again, and Harry’s jaw was now working, trying to find the right words as he so rarely did.

“What’s that?” she asked him in a small voice, gesturing at his hand.

He looked down at it before looking up at her again, holding it up for her to see. A book. And not just any book. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. Her favourite book by her favourite author. The one she had been reading to him in the field beside the lighthouse all summer. Her eyes began to sting again and she wondered once again how many times she would find herself crying in the span of just a couple of days.

“I, uhm…” He looked at it, opening it on the page where he rested his finger. “I just got to this bit right here- I mean, the whole book is rather confusing ‘cause of the whole stream of consciousness thing going on, but…” He pointed a finger at the line he’d been reading. “This right here made sense. Very much.”

The light from the lighthouse continued to shine its pattern across the coast before and around them, making some of Harry temporarily light up. It just strengthened her argument from before, that he was an angel.

“’Nothing is so strange when one is in love,’” Harry said.

“’As the complete indifference of other people,’” Y/N finished and Harry looked up at once, taken aback by her interruption but not at all offended.

He nodded his head slowly. “Yeah.” A few moments passed before he said, with such a soft voice it felt like a caress against Y/N’s skin, “I dunno what’s really going on in that book, to be fair, but… but I understood that. That line made sense.”

“It’s not the best book to start off on if you’re getting into Woolf’s work.”

“Yeah, alright, but I had to, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s your favourite. It-“ He stopped himself, swallowing thickly as he shut the book again and kept eye contact with her. “It was a piece of you. I…” He inhaled slowly. “I didn’t know when I’d see you next- if I ever would again, and… Mrs Dalloway and Woolf just… It reminded me of you. It was a piece of you.”

Y/N wanted to walk closer to him.

“It was all those moments spent out in the field listening to you read it out loud, or just watching you while you did so. I…” He shrugged. “I might not know what’s going on in the book, but I don’t really give a fuck ‘cause if reading it will somehow bring me back to that and back to you, then I’ll bloody well do it.”

Her eyes fell to the book, biting her lips together before glancing up into his eyes again.

“I just wanted a moment. Whatever moment. A single moment with you. I’ve been so… so desperate these last few days,” he said, letting go of a small, but shaky breath. “I just wanted to be. Wanted to be with you. In whatever form, whatever I could get. Just be. Just exist in a place, in a memory, where I was in your presence.”

“Harry-“

“-And if you’re here to say goodbye… I just need this one. This moment. I just need to take it in. I just need to live with you for some seconds.”

Her lips fell apart even more and she furrowed her brow slightly. “Did you not read the letter I left with the cardigan?”

Harry pulled the book up again, tapping his finger against something resting between the cover and the first page. Was he using it as a bookmark?

“So, you read it?”

“’I’ve been knitting this all summer, it looked more like something that would fit you than me. The colours reminded me of you and how you made me feel. Love, Y/N.’”

Ignoring the fact that he had memorised the letter, she groaned slightly, scratching at her neck as she kept her eyes on the letter.

“Well… then I put one of the draft letters with the cardigan.”

Harry frowned.

“I didn’t know what I wanted to say to you, I wrote like 500 draft letters before I actually landed on something like ‘I’ll be at the Inn, please come see me’, but it doesn’t seem like I put that one in there.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You didn’t.”

“But then I saw the bouquet outside my door and Bessie said you’d dropped by. And since we hadn’t talked in days, I didn’t know what you thought of me and everything that had happened.”

“Grace told me. Dax, too.”

She just looked at him.

“Gracie told me you arrived with blood on your elbow and knee, that you helped wake me up, and Dax…” Harry sighed. “Well, he said he knew there was something going on, but he realised that, though we had been faking it, he knew then, just by watching you fuss over me and run for the lighthouse, that you actually cared about me. And he knows me well enough to just see it plainly on me that I have feelings for you, too.”

Y/N didn’t really know what to say. It was true. She cared about him. So very much. But she hadn’t thought about how it would look to Grace and Dax who had, mere hours before, heard that Harry and Y/N’s relationship had been a lie since the start.

“I… Y/N, I wanted to come to the Inn. I’ve wanted to see you ever since Friday, but Jessa wouldn’t let me out of sight and told me to rest for at least a day. And then, on Sunday, I went to the Inn but Bessie said you were out. So… I tried again today, but I wanted to make sure you knew I’d been by in case you were out again, so I left the bouquet.” His eyes fell to her hand, a small smile on his lips. “With bellflowers.”

When Y/N looked down onto her hand again where there had once been a beautiful bouquet. She remembered how she had felt flower upon flower split from between her fingers as she ran for the lighthouse, they were strewn along the path up to the lighthouse now. There was only a single one left in her hand. A bellflower.

“And I made you that cardigan,” Y/N said, looking up at him again. “It’s not perfect. There some faults here and there, a few holes, it’s a bit fucked-“

“-I don’t care,” Harry blurted out. “I like that it’s a bit fucked. I like when you can see the progress, when you can tell that someone’s struggled, but it’s turned out alright. I love it.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. She looked down at the flower in her hand, feeling herself clutch it a little tighter, not wanting to let it go.

“Do you…” Harry trailed off, watching her as she met his eyes again. “No, forget it.”

“No, what?”

“It’s stupid, really-“

“-Nothing’s ever stupid, Harry, what’s on your mind?”

“Well…” He shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the bellflower in her hands. “Do you remember when we were on the beach and we talked about your favourite books and started to discuss whether or not destiny is real?”

There was no hesitation before Y/N nodded, remembering every single moment of this past summer in vivid detail.

“You said you believe balance and energy, that you get what you deserve based on what you’ve done, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And I believe that the universe brings us someplace or something ‘cause it’s already got this perfectly sculptured plan for us, where we’re supposed to end up.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve thought about that conversation these past few days, ‘cause…” He thought for a few seconds, finding his words. “I think we got what we deserved.”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We lied to everyone. We lied to people we love, to ourselves, and… the universe didn’t want us to lie. It didn’t want us to fake it.”

She tightened her hold on the bellflower, more wind blowing past them where they stood at the top of the lighthouse, the lamp shining its familiar sequence above them.

“Y/N, we’ve done it all wrong. We got what we deserved ‘cause we didn’t do it right.”

“What are you saying?”

“Our theories? You with your energy and balance and me with destiny? It’s all connected, don’t you understand?”

She just looked at him, too awestruck to think clearly.

“You’re right, we did the universe wrong so it got back at us by having our worlds fall apart around us last Friday. And destiny… well, we met and we did it wrong.”

“Then what would’ve been the right way?”

“To never have initiated the fake relationship at all. We should never have done it.”

A small pang of hurt erupted in Y/N’s chest and she furrowed her brows slightly. “Then we wouldn’t have really met each other, though.”

“But we would’ve. I ran into you; I shouldn’t have asked you to be my fake girlfriend. If I had just asked you out…” Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Who the fuck am I kidding? I wouldn’t have done that; I was way too nervous around you then.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and she hoped Harry couldn’t tell how flustered she was.

“It was wrong of us to do it.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it was, Y/N,” Harry said. “’Cause… it was never fake. Not really. We pretended to be a couple, but… it was never fake, not for me. My feelings for you, they’re not, and have never been, fake or a lie.” He took a small step forward, lips parted for a moment before he spoke again. “Every time I’ve touched you, or done something affectionate, or acted like someone who might be in love with you, it’s because I was. I am.”

A breath left her lips and her heart beat out of her chest, a rush of ecstasy flowing through her veins so quickly it made her dizzy with happiness.

“I’m in love with you. I… I’m so immeasurably in love with you, Y/N, that every moment without you, or any moment when I don’t have you close to some capacity, is insignificant. Woolf is right about that. Everything is much more important, I feel so much more than I did before you, all my senses are heightened, but I feel the most for you. It’s been like that for a while now.”

Y/N walked over to him, eyes on his before she looked down at the bellflower between them. “I didn’t…” She bit her lip for a second. “I didn’t really know what love was till I came to St Ives. I knew what it was to kind of love someone, I know that… to some degree I love my mum. I cared about Dominic, and I even loved Dad when I was little.” She glanced up again. “But I’ve never felt love like this. I’ve never been on the receiving end, never loved as much as I’ve done this summer. I feel so full of it. You know when you fill a bucket or a glass or anything with water, and the second it pours over the brim, the water envelopes it? That’s how this summer has felt.”

Harry smiled a little, his right dimple showing.

“You showed me what it means to love and be loved in return, that is what we’re put on this planet to do. What is life if you’re not loved and you don’t love?”

He just looked at her, eyes tracing her face and taking in each one of her features.

“It was never fake, Harry. Never.” The smile on his face disappeared and a shaky breath slipped from between his lips. “I’ve been falling in love with you all summer. I didn’t even realise how hard and fast it had happened till you kissed me at Porthgwidden Beach,” she said. “Even… Even if you kissed me just for show.”

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head quickly before he looked at her again, not sure if he’d heard her correctly. “What?”

“You kissed me-“ She stopped herself, tilting her head at him. “You kissed me to show off that we were a couple… right?”

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Everything I’ve ever done has never been for show. Nothing was a lie. I wanted to kiss you at Porthgwidden. I had wanted to kiss you for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Y/N, I always want to kiss you,” Harry admitted. “Always.”

She couldn’t help her slight smile. “Nothing was for show?”

“Nothing.”

“Everything was real?”

He looked down, finger tracing the petals of the bellflower in her hand. “We’re real, flower. Our feelings are real.”

“Then… if you always want to kiss me,” Y/N said, voice low and filled with purpose. He looked up at her quickly. “Why aren’t you kissing me right now?”

Another breath left Harry’s lips and he ended up just staring at her. The entire summer flashed before them as their eyes drifted from each other’s eyes to their lips and back up again. Them running into one another, going to Grace’s birthday, the kamayan on the beach, and everything that followed. Her reading to him in the grass, looking up every now and again to catch him watching her, a tinge of pink on his cheekbones as he looked away, doing his best to hide his smile which in turn made it impossible for Y/N to hide hers. Everything passed between them in those seconds where Y/N waited for him to kiss her. It was a whole summer of miscommunication, wrong-doings, and making up for mistakes, everything had come to this.

Harry raised his hand, slowly sliding his thumb over her cheek before he settled his fingers at the nape of her neck. They leaned into one another, resting their foreheads together and for a little moment, they just stood there. She let him hold onto her as she moved to slide her hands up his back, still holding onto the bellflower. Y/N glanced upward, the lamp of the lighthouse turning on. Seeing the light, she felt peace run through her. This was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Looking back at Harry, her eyes lingered on his lips before she met his eyes again. With that, he leaned in, and pressed his lips softly against hers. The light overhead turned on again and Y/N knew, without a shadow of a doubt, this was home. The taste of Harry’s lips, his hands on her neck and hips, his breath against her cheek; just having him in her presence, that was where she belonged.

They detached their lips for a short second, eyes meeting. “You’re staying?” he asked.

“I’m staying,” she answered. “If you want me to.”

There was a slight pause where they just looked at one another. She saw a smile form on Harry’s lips before he leaned in again, kissing her more fiercely. She felt his smile against her lips, making her smile back, unable to help herself. Harry tried to widen their lips so his tongue could trace hers, but their smiles were too wide, and their teeth ended up sliding against one another, making Y/N laugh and Harry giggle. They opened their eyes again, just looking at one another and smiling until they calmed down, kissing one another again.

This time, Harry managed to open their mouths in unison, tongues gliding against one another, and they were finally able to taste one another again. Nothing else mattered as they drew out the kiss, letting the heavenly rush that was going through their bodies in that moment take over completely. They were buzzing with electricity, shining like a star where they stood joined together. Y/N was sure that the lamp inside the lighthouse could go out, and her and Harry would light up the entire world and guide everyone who needed help, home.

She slung her arm around his neck, the hand clutching the bellflower rested on his shoulder and they deepened the kiss. It was the happiest moment of her life, standing there, at the top of the lighthouse, with Harry. There would be nothing like this ever. Everything had led to this. It was as Harry had said, everything else was so much more colourful now, but so insignificant in comparison to him, to this. How had she ever thought she’d live a life without him in it?

“You can spend the night,” Harry said once they had regained their breaths. “We don’t have to do anything; I just want you to stay here with me.”

She smiled at him, letting go of a breathy chuckle. “I’ll stay the night.”

He smiled back, kissing her temple. “I just want you as close as possible.”

She turned her face and pressed her lips against his again, closing her eyes and melting into him again. He gripped her face gently, pulling her to him and moaning softly against her, his wet lips making a hot shiver run up her spine that absolutely no one but Harry had been able to conjure. An early autumnal wind blew past them and though it was a cold breeze, Y/N felt herself radiate warmth. They giggled against one another when they realised they had completely forgotten where they were, the plans from earlier about going downstairs.

Harry took Y/N’s hand and the two walked back down the stairs, Harry carrying Mrs Dalloway and Y/N the bellflower. Once they reached the cottage, Y/N walked straight over to the kitchen and found a small glass she could put the flower in, and once it was filled with some water, she put it on the dining table, smiling a little at it. Harry walked over and sat down in the windowsill Y/N had spent countless hours studying for her UCAT, he watched her as she marvelled at the bellflower, studying it in the dim light of the cottage.

“What’ve you been up to the past few days?” Harry asked as Y/N sat down by the dining table.

“Been knitting that,” she said, nodding in the direction of the cardigan Harry was still wearing. “And I had a chat with Mum.”

Harry paused for a few seconds, letting the words Y/N had just uttered sink in. “You… You talked?”

“Yeah.”

“Did your parents and-“ Harry made a grimace as if saying the name made him ill. “Dominic show up unannounced again?”

Y/N tried not to smile. “No, I asked Mum to meet me.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded his head some, letting the words sink in. “Alright.”

“I just wanted to make it very clear that I don’t want anything to do with them again. Told her that if they came close to me or tried to meet me without letting me know and talking to me beforehand, I’ll file a restraining order or summat like that. I dunno how to do it or if the situation is, like, qualified for one-“

“-Jo will help. They work for a law firm; they’ll know what to do.”

“I’d appreciate that very much.” She sighed. “If Jo and the rest of St Ives will ever truly forgive what we did.”

Harry’s eyes fell to his hands in his lap, letting some silence settle between them before he said, “Yeah, Jessa wasn’t impressed.”

There had not been a moment prior to this when Y/N had felt angrier and more ashamed of herself. Out of everyone she had met in her life up until that point, and probably forever, Jessa was one of the most accepting and kindest people she had ever met. The fact that she had not only disappointed Jessa but also hurt her, made Y/N so thoroughly sad that it was hard not to scream out in anger.

“Did she…” Y/N trailed off, gesturing with her hands as Harry looked up at her again. “Did she talk to you about everything when you stayed at the farm with them that day after your hypo?”

Harry shook his head. “No. She barely spent any time with me, just told Grace to keep me company while she tended to the farm. She didn’t want to let me be alone, though. She can be mad at me, but she still can’t be that mad, you know what I mean?” Harry chuckled some. “Got the biggest heart out of anyone I know, Jessa does.”

Y/N smiled a little at that. “She had to know you’d be alright.”

“I heard you went up to the lighthouse to do the weather reports.”

She bit her lips together, remembering that night in vivid detail.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much for that.”

“You couldn’t do them, and someone had to.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re making it sound like it was dreadful.”

“It was!” He laughed even more at her exclamation. “I was proper freaking out!”

“But you did an amazing job! Everything you’ve written down is correct and I can guess then that your report was as well.”

She smiled. “I hope so.”

Harry smiled back, getting up to take the cardigan off and put it on a hanger by his dresser.

“Who did it after I left? I went back to the Inn after the 9am one.”

“Dax told me you were at the lighthouse and when he got your text saying you’d be leaving, he told me, I called Trinity House, and another lighthouse keeper off-duty came and stepped in for the day.”

“Okay, good,” Y/N said. “I was scared I just left it in the hands of no one, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did plenty. Thank you, genuinely.” Harry looked at the clock on the wall, letting go of a long sigh before he walked over to the lamp by his sofa, turning it off.

“I…” Y/N said, cracking the knuckle of her thumb as nervousness suddenly flooded her. She had thought about this a fair amount since the party last Friday and she felt like it had to be addressed. “The piano piece you played at the end of summer party,” Y/N started, making Harry look over at her. “It was beautiful.”

“You mean your song?”

Y/N felt lightheaded at him addressing it like that.

“It kinda just came to me throughout the summer. The first bit was just us laying in the grass and as it picks up you can kinda tell how much you begin to mean to me,” he explained. “It’s nostalgic, it’s what I was going for anyway. You don’t really know if you should be happy or sad, ‘cause the memories make you feel both at the same time.” He walked over to the foyer and locked the front door, turning the lights off, closing the door leading out there, separating them from the entrance. “Played it for Grace a couple of times and I was gonna play it for you, but… well, then everything went to shit, didn’t it?”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, everything fell apart all at once.”

“It did,” he agreed, turning a lamp on top of his dresser off. “But we made it, didn’t we?”

She smiled at that.

Harry paused for few seconds, looking out through the major window at the far-end wall where he had just been seated, furrowing his brows as he thought. It was as if he had just remembered something, biting his lips together as his eyes fell to the floor again. Not knowing what was on his mind, Y/N kept her mouth shut.

“I… I can’t remember much from last Friday,” he confessed, looking back up through the window. “It’s not even a blur, it’s just… it’s not there.”

Y/N just looked at him.

“Usually what happens when my blood sugar’s low. I get dizzy, start to sweat and I shake, and I’ll be very irritable, the slightest thing will tick me off.” Harry walked over to the dining table, sitting down next to Y/N. “And, if I go into a hypo, I won’t remember the hypo, or most of the moments leading up to it. I’ll just slowly jolt out of it and realise what’s happening.”

She nodded, eyes falling to his hands that were folded together on the table before him.

“I remember your family arriving and I remember being scared out of my bloody mind when I realised what was going on- when you and Bessie fucked out of the barn. I knew something was up. I kind of had a hunch as to what it was, but… I didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.”

She wanted to reach for his hand.

“I didn’t even know who they were, you hadn’t shown me any pictures of them, so I couldn’t tell from just looking at them, but I knew. An old married pair and that… that ruddy tosser – don’t even wanna say his name – came out of that car, and I just knew. I couldn’t let you go with them.”

“I’m sorry-“

“-No,” Harry stopped her. “No, I get why you did. Didn’t wanna cause a scene, and all that.”

She nodded. “Thought it’d be better if I went, didn’t want to fight with them in front of everyone.”

Harry looked up at her. “You fought with them?”

“Not a physical fight.”

“A man can only dream.”

She laughed.

“You should’ve levelled He Who Must Not Be Named while you still had the chance.”

She grinned at him. “When I become a dentist and he’s my patient, I’ll pull all his teeth out without any anaesthetics. How ‘bout that?”

Harry smiled back. “That’ll be a right laugh.”

She giggled, looking down at his hands again.

“What happened in the car then? You had an argument?”

Biting at her bottom lip, Y/N thought about the entire car incident before looking up into Harry’s eyes again. “I told them I wouldn’t come back to Hampshire, that I wouldn’t move in with Dominic, that-“

“-They wanted you to move in with that grotesque git?!” Harry sounded flabbergasted.

She smiled a little again. “Yes, well, Mum and Dad don’t really care what I think as long as it looks good, you know.”

Harry nodded, motioning for her to continue on explaining.

“And then I told them I was doing a UCAT exam. None of them believed it or wanted me to take it, and that’s when Gracie called,” Y/N explained. “I asked Dad to stop the car so I could go back, but he wouldn’t let me out. I kind of realised that nothing would stop him. So, when I felt him stepping on the break before he was about to turn, I told them not to follow me, and I jumped out of the car.”

Harry stared at her, mouth hanging open, blinking multiple times as if he was picturing the entire thing unfold. “You…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You jumped out of their car?”

“To get to you, yeah.”

A small breath left his lips and he continued to just look, a sort of appreciation on his face that made Y/N warm with pleasure. Again, she felt an urge to reach for his hand and hold onto him, to check if he was okay. Reliving those memories in her head and talking about them, made her also revisit the feelings of dread at the news of Harry’s hypo. Just wanting to get to him, just wanting to see he was alright.

“You’re bloody mad,” he said, a breathy chuckle following his utterance. “Brilliant, but out-of-your-mind mad at the same time.”

Y/N laughed again, smiling at Harry. “Did you feel the hypo coming on?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, scratching at his jaw as his eyes fell on the dark field beyond the window beside the kitchen table. “Yeah, I usually feel them. This time around there was so much happening all at once, I didn’t really feel it till it happened. I’m usually very good at regulating my blood sugar, not had a shock like that in years.”

She leaned her elbows on the table, taking a grip of her upper arms as she watched him talk.

“I used to not want to take my insulin pens out in front of people after we had a meal out or stuff like that, it used to make me feel very vulnerable. I used to feel exposed, as if I was showing people a secret of mine that I didn’t want them in on. It was the same when I was overweight, I didn’t wear revealing or tight-fitted clothes ‘cause I didn’t want people to think I was bigger, you know what I mean? The better I could hide it from everyone else, the easier I could hide it from myself. So, I had a few hypos when I was younger.”

Two lines appeared between his brows as he thought, Y/N wanted to reach over and stroke them away.

“I think I was just so used to hiding parts of myself – big parts – that made it almost instinctive, hiding the fact that I was diabetic. I thought there was something wrong with me at first, ‘cause this would change my entire life, you know?” He let out a chuckle. “But then I went to this event thingy where I met other kids with diabetes, and I realised that it was much more common than I’d ever thought before. Not only that, but it had been stupid of me to ever hide it, to be ashamed of it. When you’re a kid, all you want is to fit in. You don’t wanna stick out or give anyone a reason to pick on you in any way. All the bullying before had really made an impact, I never wanted to experience it again, you know?” He sighed. “Some people will bully you for anything, especially those things you cannot help.”

Y/N furrowed her brows as she listened to him.

“But I was surrounded by people who made me realise that life is too short to be embarrassed, especially about things you cannot change.  People who judge others for what they choose to do with their lives, are often the ones who still struggle to know who they are themselves, constantly critiquing others for their quirks and wrong-doings as if it’ll erase their own.”

Y/N smiled a little, nodding her head. “Yeah, my thighs have always been bigger,” she said. “I used to hate them ‘cause Mum would point them out and tell me I’d be wise to lose weight, but-“ Y/N shrugged. “-I like the way they jiggle when I walk, and though thigh chafing is an absolute pain, I still find them cute. It took me some time to realise that, of course. Especially when the environment around me keeps telling me they are. But I couldn’t care less, to be fair. Though it doesn’t feel like it at times, there are far more important things in life than an insignificant opinion. Big thighs save lives, do they not?”

The frown on Harry’s face has evaporated as Y/N spoke, a soft smile left in its wake. “Too right.”

Y/N smiled back.

“I love your thighs. They just-“ Harry made to reach for them, but stopped himself. Y/N laughed at him as he blinked himself out of some sort of trance.

“They what?”

“They’re pretty.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up instantly. No one had ever said that. That they liked her thighs. It only made those butterflies inside Y/N’s tummy flutter their wings even more wildly, not knowing how to properly act around Harry anymore.

“I was about to say something that would be a bit inappropriate,” Harry mumbled.

“What?”

“No, I can’t say. It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Nothing will ever ruin the mood, Harry.”

“Fine,” Harry hissed, inhaling quickly. “I just wanted to say that I really like the feel of them against my cheeks. They’re so soft. So… so soft.”

Her entire body went hot at that, because not only did it take her off guard, but she instantly remembered the feeling of his slight scruff against the inside of her thighs. Just thinking about it made her all dizzy with a need to feel it again. It all came sneaking up on her so suddenly that she was left biting her bottom lip, just looking at Harry as she clambered for things to say.

“See!” Harry exclaimed, chuckling. “Ruined the mood!”

“It just took me by surprise!”

“Right,” he laughed, getting up from the chair.

“I’m sorry for turning the lights out, it’s 9pm and I usually go to bed then. Gotta be up in about five hours.”

“Of course,” Y/N said, getting up. “We’ll… I’ll let you go to bed.”

“You’re not coming to bed?”

She just stared at him for a few moments. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Assume,” Harry said, walking towards the bathroom.

Y/N laughed, following after him.

The two brushed their teeth together, Y/N using the toothbrush she had used the times before when she’d been there. Turns out, Harry had never thrown it out in case they would find themselves in this position multiple times. They took their time as Y/N ended up laughing at Harry, toothpaste dribbling down his chin. He told her that always happened and Y/N thought this was odd as Harry had a fairly big mouth.

Once again, he lent her a tee shirt. This time around, she only slept in that and her knickers, not really caring that Harry saw her in them as he’d seen her naked before. Harry only wore his boxers, putting on his sleep mask as Y/N picked up Mrs Dalloway where Harry had put it on the bed. Getting under the covers, she opened it on the page where he’d left off, smiling a bit to herself as she read a few passages. With a window open and most of the lights turned out except for the lamp on the nightstand, Harry got into bed with a grunt, pulling the covers over him. He glanced over at her, studying her face as she read, how her eyes flickered from word to word, line to line, paragraph to paragraph.

“Creep,” she mumbled, and Harry chuckled a little, getting into a comfortable position on his side so he could watch her.

“Read to me?” he asked, voice hoarse with on-coming sleep and Y/N found it so endearing and the question so familiar that a tingling sensation ran from her toes all the way up to the hair roots at the top of her head.

And so she did as he asked. She read from Mrs Dalloway, so softly and carefully that she almost lulled herself off to sleep. However, Harry was clinging to consciousness all he could. He would almost drift off but come back with a jolt, eyes wide open as if he tried to fight sleep, watching her lazily and intently, not daring to take his eyes off of her in case she wouldn’t be there when he opened them again. But it was only so much he could do, and, in the end, soft snores emitted from her companion, and Y/N put the book away, turning off the last light before joining Harry under the sheets.

It took her a while to fall asleep as well. She was just left staring at Harry, not really believing that this was all real. After everything that had happened these last few days, this almost seemed like a “too good to be true” ending and Y/N was nervous. She was content just being close to Harry like this, this was where she’d always wanted to be, but there was still a lot that needed to be addressed. The two of them had to talk about what would happen next, she needed to talk to everyone else, and she had to continue revising for the UCAT because it was now under a month till she was supposed to take the exam. The many thoughts and uncertain future kept her up like it had the last few nights, and Y/N wondered when she’d get a good night’s sleep.

She jolted awake some hours later, blinking up at the ceiling as Harry got up on his elbow and reached for his phone, turning the alarm off. Y/N watched as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up a bit. She knew he couldn’t turn the lights on as it would ruin his night vision which he needed when he was out looking at the Stevenson Screen, so her eyes followed him as he got up from the bed and walked over to put the same outfit on that he’d worn before; his denim shorts and a pink tee shirt over it. He glanced over at Y/N, part of him must’ve realised she was awake.

“Alright?” he asked, voice hoarse from sleep and it made Y/N wake up even more. The sound of it made her all hot.

She nodded her head. “Your alarm clock just woke me up.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Harry said, smiling a bit. “You jumped a bit.”

She smiled back as Harry gave her a small nod, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb before he walked out of the cottage and toward the lighthouse.

She wasn’t able to fall back asleep, however. She laid awake, looking up at the ceiling overhead and thinking too many thoughts all at once, her head feeling heavier than it had that entire night. It felt like she hadn’t slept at all, yet also had the deepest sleep of her life. After all, she had been with Harry this entire time, the two of them had talked everything out, they were okay, she should’ve had an amazing night sleep. But there was something that nagged at the back of her mind, something she had not been able to stop thinking about since Harry had said it just before they went to sleep.

“I really like the feel of them against my cheeks. They’re so soft. So… so soft.”

Her thighs. Soft. He liked the feel of them against him, around his face, as his head was between her legs. And then Y/N realised why her night had been so confusing and why it had been hard to fall asleep in the first place. Her body hadn’t forgotten those words. It had reacted to them while her brain had been wistfully unaware, letting it create an ache along her skin that only Harry could do something about. Taking a deep breath, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep again.

Her mind immediately travelled back to the times before when Harry had tasted her. Whenever they had the chance to get intimate, he had always insisted on going down on her, like it was a privilege to, like he needed to. Y/N supposed it made sense, as he had told her how much he enjoyed getting his partner off, that knowing he was getting them off got him off. Seeing how hungry he truly was to make someone squirm and cry out his name, Y/N was always astounded by how true he had been to his word. He loved it. And something about that made Y/N’s entire body heat up. She found it so hot that he would do just about anything for someone else if it meant he’d help them over the edge.

Y/N’s eyes opened again, and she turned so her face was hidden in the pillow, screaming into it at how pathetic she was being. A thought had struck her, because she was sure that if she didn’t get rid of this ache now, it’d be even harder for her to fall back asleep afterward. Laying back down on her back, her eyes found the ceiling again and she rested a hand at the very bottom of her tummy. Harry wouldn’t be back for some time still, if she was quick she’d be done by the time he got back. And if she wasn’t quick and didn’t finish, she’d just excuse herself to the bathroom and finish everything quietly in there. Yes, that was a good plan.

Lifting the band of her knickers, Y/N reached down, hoisting her legs up slightly so it’d be easier for her to access all of herself. She ran a finger from her clit and down to her hole, not surprised to find wetness pooling there already. She smeared it out over herself; flicking her fingers over her bud, down to her hole again, making sure each part of her was covered in it. Continuing on like this until she basically found her core aching with a need for her to finish, Y/N started focusing entirely on her bud.

She thought of Harry. Thought of how he had looked while he ate her out from behind, his green eyes peering over at her as he looked over her shoulder at him. And then next came an image of Harry laying on his back in the bed in the lighthouse bedroom, eyes shut tight and mouth in an O-shape, forehead creasing as Y/N sat down on him, taking him into her. A low and long rumble emitted from him, vibrating through her, and Y/N gasped. He was sweaty, needy, and so incredibly hot where he laid under her, completely at her disposal, that it made the room spin around her. It all happened so quickly and it was so easy for her to almost reach a peak that she found herself inhaling sharply, letting go of a moan she had not meant to let pass her lips.

And it had been the worst possible moment for her to moan as well, because the door into the cottage opened and Harry stepped inside. Y/N stopped herself immediately, laying back down as if nothing had happened. However, by the way Harry quickly closed the door and locked it, looking over at her, she was sure he must’ve either heard or seen something. None of them spoke for a moment as they just looked at one another, at a loss for words. Y/N’s entire body felt like it was burning, but this time it was from embarrassment and not from want. If someone could transport her into an alternate dimension where she had chosen not to masturbate in Harry’s cottage while he was out doing the weather report, that would’ve been nice.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed again as he took his shoes off, still not stepping further into the cottage than the foyer. The silence was deafening, and Y/N wanted to scream. Couldn’t he just say something? He already knew partly what she had been doing according to how pink and flabbergasted he was, the least he could do was say something. Y/N didn’t mind him hearing or seeing her. In fact, she quite liked the idea. But she hadn’t intended to make Harry uncomfortable or make him not want to come back to bed.

“Uhm…” Harry said, clearing his throat as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Do you… I can…” He let his arm fall to his side. “I’ll go sleep in the lighthouse if you want some-“

“-No,” Y/N interrupted him. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed… I didn’t mean…” But she, like Harry, didn’t really know what to say. What was the right thing to say in a situation like this?

“I’ll step outside if you want to finish.”

“No, I-“ Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. This whole thing was so awkward and could’ve been so easily prevented. “-It’s fine. You can come back here to bed if you want to sleep next to me.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t think there’s anywhere I’d rather be, to be honest.”

Y/N bit her lips together, wiping her fingers on her thigh before she positioned herself on her side again. She watched as Harry too his tee shirt off, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought for a few seconds. He didn’t look at her as he asked, “Did you finish, then?”

Y/N felt like she was on fire again, looking away from Harry as he unbuckled his denim shorts. “No, but it’s-“

“-Would you let me give it a try?”

She blinked, meeting his eyes. “Pardon?”

“Let me try to make you finish.” He got into bed with her, not taking his eyes off of her. “Please?”

A chill went up her spine and her centre began to ache painfully again. Not knowing what she was doing till she was doing it, Y/N nodded. Harry removed the covers from over her and Y/N got cold at once, but the sight of Harry’s eyes travelling down her body made her forget about the lack of the duvet at once. He leaned in, kissing her lips softly. It was a lazy sort of kiss, their mouths opening up for one another slowly and their tongues tangling, their lips getting wet and small whimpers emitted from their mouths as the make out session was dragged out. Suddenly, Harry started kissing down her jaw and neck, over her breasts that were covered in his tee shirt and down her body.

“What were you thinking about while you were getting off?” Harry asked, crawling further down the bed until his face rested just above the place she needed him. She was still on her side, Harry resting his head on her right thigh while she was holding up her left one as not to rest it on his head, she’d suffocate him for sure.

“You,” she answered simply, and Harry groaned against her skin, vibrating through her entire body, and especially her clit that was already sensitive from Y/N’s earlier try.

Harry hooked his fingers around the hem of her underwear, moving his head as to get it off, but he didn’t move it past her knees.

“Don’t move these,” he said, gesturing at her underwear. “Want to feel your thighs tight around me.”

“When you were under me, that first time we had sex,” she continued to explain.

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, kissing her folds that were now exposed to him. Y/N bit her bottom lip, looking down at him where he was almost hidden between her legs. “Liked that?”

“Love it when you’re needy.”

Harry kissed her again, making Y/N gasp slightly. “Then you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve thought about you, too.”

She froze a bit, looking down at him.

“Gotten off to the thought of you. A bit of a sad wank after we shagged in the car. Bloody fucking hell,” Harry said, sounding breathless. “When you wrapped your hand around my throat… so fucking hot.”

Harry didn’t wait for Y/N to say anything however because he ran his tongue over her and she immediately moaned, her left leg shaking as the impact rocked through her. Harry buried himself there between her legs, drawing out his licks over her until he focused solely on her clit. He sucked and Y/N’s eyes fluttered close. It hadn’t been far from climax when she had tried to get herself off earlier, it was embarrassing how quickly she would come now. However, as Harry continued to suck on her and make noises as if he was enjoying himself immensely, having the meal of his life, Y/N didn’t quite care. She was losing her mind as it was, feeling Harry’s tongue and mouth on her again, a sensation she had missed.

She felt Harry’s scruff against her skin and though it tickled some, she welcomed this feeling. She couldn’t come up with a number high enough if she were to say how many times she had thought about being in this position with Harry again. Before Harry, Dominic hadn’t bothered going down on Y/N much, and this hunger of Harry’s, his desire to make her come and scream while she did, was in such drastic contrast that it was almost laughable. Harry would not rest till he knew she had had a mind-blowing orgasm, while Dom had never even asked her if she finished. She often had to do the job herself with him, but with Harry, he was the one doing that for her.

“Oh, God,” she moaned as Harry wrapped his lips around her bud again, sucking her deliciously.

She reached down, taking Harry’s hair in her hands, and biting her lips as she let out another moan. He was working hard on making this one an orgasm to remember, she could feel it. As an electric shock ran through her, making her gasp for breath, her left leg fell onto Harry’s face. About to lift it again, she heard a sound of contentment from down there. Harry liked it. He liked the feeling of her thighs around him, suffocating him almost. Another thrill ran through Y/N at the thought.

“Harry,” she gasped, her grip on his hair tightening, he hummed against her in response.

She clung to him, the feeling of fire hot tension in her core was starting to reach that point where it’d burst, and Y/N was making more and more noise the nearer it drew. Harry held onto her, slipping two fingers into her while he continued to eat her out, looking up every now and again to look at her. At the feeling of his fingers, Y/N gasped again, crying out his name as hot pleasure erupted from her core and all throughout her body, making every cell aware of what was soon to happen.

“Couldn’t sleep just now,” Harry admitted between licks and sucks. “After our chat, all I kept thinking about was the taste of your sweet cunt and your thighs around me as I eat you out.”

Y/N moaned in response, dizzy with approaching bliss.

The wet sucking sounds of Harry’s lips as well as his fingers now, almost echoed throughout the room. Something that before would’ve disgusted her previous partner, but something that made her current partner, and herself, highly aroused. She pulled at his hair as he sucked on her again, picking up the pace of his fingers, and making it hard for Y/N not to cry out yet again. She felt it then. Just there. A little bit out of reach.

“Come on, baby,” Harry said against her, voice husky. “Come loud and nice for me now.”

Y/N gasped again, Harry’s words taking her off guard. However, it didn’t take long after that. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked more forcefully this time around, making the world around Y/N shatter completely. She gasped and moaned and cried out Harry’s name as she came. Fires licking at each of her organs, making it hard for her to breathe as Harry got out from between her thighs. He got up instantly to get her something to clean up with, not letting her do it himself. As she calmed down, biting her lips as Harry laid down next to her, she saw the small start of a grin. Before she could ask what he was thinking about, Harry spoke.

“I’ve been running low on vitamin P these last few days.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before she understood, then she just looked at him. Of course. “Don’t say it.”

“Vitamin pussy.”

Y/N brought her hands up to her face to hide it from view as they both laughed. It had been such a stupid joke after such a serious and hot moment spent together that neither of them could help themselves. It was exactly what Y/N had expected from Harry and she loved it, even though it was the stupidest joke she had ever heard. Harry’s phone went off, and Y/N wondered if it was 6am already, though that wouldn’t make sense as it at just been 3. Harry sat up, looking at his phone and bringing it up to the sensor on his upper arm, clicking his tongue.

“Seems eating you out didn’t work to get my blood sugar up, it’s still low.”

Y/N laughed again, feeling a pain in her ribs as she looked up at Harry.

“I’ll go eat something ‘cause your cunt’s clearly not sweet enough, and I’ll be back for cuddles-“

“-Hey!”

“I can’t cuddle now, my blood sugar-“

“-Thought you said earlier that my cunt’s sweet.”

Harry grinned down at her, kissing her forehead. “Can’t imagine myself living without the taste of you.” And then he got up, walking over to his kitchen to make himself a toast.

Next time she woke was a little after nine when Harry returned to the cottage after another report, trying to be as quiet as possible as he made a quick brew of coffee. She opened her eyes slowly and just watched him, finding herself smiling at the sight of him standing there in the pale morning sun. He wandered over to the sofa once he had his cup, flicking through the newspaper before him and taking his time before he had to start on a new day around the Clodgy grounds. Y/N let him sit there by himself for a while, understanding that he just needed to properly wake up and relax after a night of reporting and working.

Once he was done with his coffee and closed the newspaper before him, Harry glanced over at Y/N, stopping a little when he saw her already looking at him.

“Morning,” he said, voice still a bit groggy with sleep as he hadn’t talked much still. He cleared his throat. “I, uhm…” He looked at the coffee cup, mouth open as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” He nodded, eyes landing on her again, giving her a small smile before he picked up the coffee mug and walked over to the dishwasher with it. “You want some coffee?”

“I’m good, thanks, though.”

“No problem.”

She continued to just watch him, the tiniest of smiles on her face. Harry walked about the kitchen, looking through his fridge before he rummaged through the bowl of fruit on the counter. It seemed he was busying himself as he tried to find the right words to say, stopping a few times when he thought he had it, but then starting up his hunt again.

“How’d you sleep then?”

Y/N’s smile widened, still feeling Harry’s stubble where it had been between her thighs only hours beforehand. “Great, and you?”

Harry glanced over at her, smiling as well now. “Been a while since I’ve slept that well, to be honest.”

She giggled, sitting up in bed. She noticed his eyes flickered to her chest where she was sure her nipples were visible through her shirt. His cheeks flared and he looked away before meeting her eyes again. “Same here.”

His cheeks got redder and he couldn’t help his little smile. “Right.”

She smiled, stretching where she sat in the bed. “I feel like I need a shower. Might pop by the Inn-“

“-No, you can-“ Harry didn’t finish that sentence, instead he gestured at the bathroom with a little nod, biting his lips together. “I’ll… I’ll go outside and do some chores.”

Y/N nodded, getting up from the bed. “If you’re sure.”

“You don’t even have to ask, Y/N.”

That sent a shiver up her spine and her smile widened. “I still want to make sure. You never know when you’re stepping over a line or summat.”

“Not here, never here.”

It was incredible how much Harry made her feel at once. His words made her warm with adoration, but they also made her want to run over to him and rip his clothes off. She just wanted to be close to him, to physically touch him all over again. It had been so long since she’d felt his skin, kissed him, even though it had only been last night, and she longed for it all again. She missed being close to him, missed feeling him take over each one of her senses. The feeling of him being all around her, paralysing her and making her feel full of nothing but peace and love. Was there anything that felt better than that? Than not being able to do anything anywhere completely with someone because you were so in love with them it consumed you? Wasn’t the feeling of someone you were utterly, truly in love with feeling the same way about you, wanting to be with you like you wanted to be with them? How lucky hadn’t they been to have found each other and fallen at the same time.

Y/N walked over to the bathroom, watching Harry where he was stood by the foyer. She hadn’t expected to blurt it out like she did. In fact, in retrospect, she wasn’t sorry she had suggested it, but she knew that it had taken both her and Harry off guard. However, it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t opened her mouth either. Something they both would have regretted.

“Do you wanna come?”

Harry blinked a few times as if he was certain he hadn’t heard her right.

“In the shower?”

His mouth fell open slightly and he continued to just look at her, for a second looking like he thought she was taking the piss.

“If you’re busy you don’t have to, but the offers there-“

“-Y-You want me to come-“ Harry stopped himself, furrowing his brows. “You want me to come in the shower with you?”

“Yeah, unless you’re busy. I know-“

“-No, I…” Harry inhaled slowly. “No, I want to. I’ll come.”

Y/N smiled at him, opening the bathroom door as butterflies swarmed around in her stomach. It had been a while since she’d seen him naked, and even that had been in the dark of the bedroom in the lighthouse. Now, in the pale morning light, she’d get to see all of him. And he’d get to see all of her; chunky thighs, cellulite, and the mole on the inside of her right thigh. She didn’t mind him seeing her naked.

Y/N stepped inside, looking at the shower and the small window at the top of the wall, letting some natural sunlight stream into the bathroom. Harry followed after her, closing the door after him and standing there behind her, watching her as she studied the pale yellow sunbeams make it through the window. Slowly, she turned around, looking over her shoulder at Harry and keeping eye contact till they stood face to face. He was still watching her, studying her face and her body, taking his time and clearly trying not to make her feel uncomfortable at him taking her in like this. Reaching for the hem of Harry’s tee shirt, she brought it over her head and let it fall to the floor beside her, feeling an undeniable heat pull towards the bottom of her tummy as Harry’s eyes fell to her exposed breasts. He was paying so close attention to her as if just being here with her, getting a chance to look at her like this, was the greatest privilege one could ask for. Y/N’s body felt hot under his stare and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling a sort of powerful only Harry was able to make erupt inside her.

He tugged his own tee shirt over his head, letting it fall not far from where she’d placed hers, his broad and tanned chest exposed to her one more time. Like he had done to her, she took her time studying him. She took in the hair travelling from his navel to below his underwear, his outlined pecks and the soft tummy underneath them. Seeing him like that, glowing in the light of the sun, had something inside her scream with anticipation. Though nothing was set in stone to happen, she could still feel an instant intense electricity forming in the air between them.

Y/N reached for her knickers and Harry’s lips parted, inhaling sharply as if he’d just been brought back from an extraordinary trance. She pulled them down, revealing herself completely to him and the breath Harry had let enter his body just seconds before, left his lips in a shaky exhale once she stood upright again. His eyes moved over her, finally able to see all of her and in the light of day. Y/N’s heart beat hard inside her chest, looking at Harry look at her, feeling every emotion she held for him all at once. Once their eyes met, she let hers fall to his usual denim shorts, then meet his eyes again.

He understood right away, reaching for the button and the zipper, taking both his shorts and boxers off in one go. Y/N tried not to get visibly excited at the sight, but she could already see the hint of arousal on Harry, something that made the heat inside her own body intensify. Their eyes met again, and though she would’ve usually seen a slight blush across Harry’s cheeks, it wasn’t there just then. No, he seemed confident enough, ready enough, content enough not to feel embarrassed about anything.

She took a single step back before turning around, drawing the frosted shower door aside so she could step inside. Turning on the water, Y/N squealed a little as cold water came pouring down over her at first, taking a huge step to the other side of the shower so the water wouldn’t hit her. She was now standing in the open doorway into the shower, looking out at Harry who was smiling, chuckling some to herself at her instant reaction to the water. She wrinkled her nose at him before reaching her hand out, feeling at the water to see if it was a comfortable enough temperature now. When it was, she walked back over, standing under the shower head as she felt footsteps behind her on the shower floor, then the door sliding shut.

She turned around when she was fully wet, looking over at Harry as he just stood there, watching her intently. Biting her lip, she stepped aside, letting him slide past her and into the stream of the shower. She took his place, watching Harry now as he let the water run over him, a content sigh leaving his lips as if this was something he had really needed. Standing there, she wanted to reach forward and touch him. His back muscles, plump arse, and the scar on the back of his thigh. It wasn’t big, but it looked to have happened a long time ago. Maybe when he was little, having fallen off his bike or done something stupid kids often did while playing.

Harry picked up the shampoo bottle, letting her slide past him again to shampoo her hair. She waited for him to hand it over to her, but instead of putting the bottle back in her hand, Harry opened the shampoo and then put the bottle on the small sill beside the window. The small of fresh papaya wafted through the air, and a second later, she felt fingers in her hair and a hot sensation ran down her spine, resting at her core but heating up her entire body. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of Harry take over each one of her senses. Humming contentedly, she let Harry massage her scalp, feeling herself relax completely for the first time in a long while. He pressed against her backside, not at all shy now that she felt him against her bum, harder than he had been when they undressed before one another. She felt like falling to the floor, the intensity of anything but the moment right now dissipating completely.

Something soft was pressed against her shoulder, then a bit further up towards her neck. Harry’s tender kisses sent shocks of great pleasure throughout her body, making it once again hard to remain standing. She suddenly heard some coughing and a small “ew”, and when she turned around, Harry was grimacing.

“Shampoo,” he explained, making Y/N laugh.

“You didn’t have to lick the shampoo.”

“It’s all over you now, innit?” he said, making both of them laugh again. “Was trying to be proper romantic, but fucked myself over with that one.”

“Nah, I liked it.”

“That I ate shampoo?”

She laughed. “Well, you didn’t eat it. At least not on purpose.”

He chuckled. “Real papaya tastes better than shampoo papaya. I’m a survivor of the papaya shampoo-“

“-Oh, don’t be dramatic.” She turned around, smiling over at him. “It was brave of you to go through all that for a shoulder kiss.”

“I’d go through a lot more than just eating shampoo to give you another shoulder kiss.”

Y/N laughed, getting the conditioner. She was about to put some in her hand when Harry took it from her. He shook his head, and she pretended to roll her eyes, even though she actually thoroughly enjoyed how much he wanted to take care of her. He ran his hands through her hair, making sure not to let any conditioner touch her scalp. While doing this, he planted more kisses along her jaw, even daring to kiss her neck and jawline, now not at all intimidated by the shampoo. There was simply no way not to smile and feel her entire body buzz with adoration as Harry did this.

When he stopped, he put his hands under the stream to get all the shampoo and conditioner off. Though she usually let the shampoo and conditioner stay in her hair a bit, she let it be this time around. Stepping under the stream from the shower head, she closed her eyes and rinsed her hair thoroughly. She ran her hands through her hair, closing her eyes. She knew Harry was watching her and she loved that he was. The steam from the shower along with Harry’s not-so-subtly studying every single part of her naked body, made her hotter than she’d been in a while.

It happened so suddenly it made her gasp. Once she opened her eyes to look at him again, her hair free of shampoo and conditioner, Harry took the step toward her. He grabbed the back of her neck and brought her to him, kissing her fiercely. Though it had startled her at first, she melted into the kiss right away. Though they had kissed only last night, it still felt like an eternity ago, and she had missed him like this. She missed kissing him and knowing that it would lead somewhere fantastic, just like last night’s kiss had felt. Maybe that one had been even more intense than this one because it held the promise of a future, but this kiss felt very similar. This one was purposeful. They both knew there was a future now, but they had no idea where it’d go, only that in this very moment, no matter what, they wanted to spend this one moment with each other. And they wanted to take great advantage of that.

Harry pressed her against the wall, moaning into her as she gripped his back, bringing her closer to him. She tilted his head and kissed him harder, something that had a short breath leaving his nose, a slight twitch against Y/N’s core and lower belly.

“Open up for me,” she whispered against him and he did as she said without hesitation. Their tongues found one another instantly and fantastic bliss ran through Y/N’s body to the point where she completely forgot where she was. The kisses grew more frantic, wetter, deeper. She pulled away at one point, taking a grip of his hair, tilting his head so it’d fit better against hers, before she kissed him again. Harry smiled against her lips at that, getting harder against her as she took control of him, making him listen to her and what she wanted. The mere fact that this was turning him on turned Y/N on, and she continued to take the dominant role. Something both of them loved.

She lifted her leg and Harry took a grip of her knee, bringing it up to his hip. He instantly leaned more into her, his erection against her centre, making her grip on his hair tighten. Slowly, making a tingle of excitement run through her veins, Harry grinded against her. She couldn’t help her moan, begging him to do it again as she squeezed his shoulder. He did, letting a small whimper pass from his lips and into her mouth, desperate for an actual feel of her. Y/N adjusted her hips some, making it so that when Harry grinded against her hungrily the third time, a shot of pleasure erupted from her clit.

“Oh, my God,” she said, having missed the effect Harry had on her body like this.

He kissed along her neck, sucking lightly at the tip of her jaw. “You’re so hot.”

She smiled, closing her eyes as Harry kissed her collarbone. “It’s all you, you make me act like this.”

Harry stopped right above her heart, kissing her breast. “Don’t give me that sort of credit.”

She giggled. “Then what should I say?”

Harry kissed along her neck again, a thrill of ecstasy shooting straight for the spot between Y/N’s legs. “I’m not one to tell you, am I?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, looking down at Harry and waiting for him to reach her shoulder before she uttered, “No, you’re not.”

She could tell Harry loved that, gripping her knee harder as he rested his forehead against hers. “Are you wet for me like I’m hard for you?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why don’t you find out?”

Harry bit his bottom lip at that, she could feel his heart beating hard against his chest and against hers. She swore they beat to the same rhythm. He reached down between them, making sure to hold their eye contact as he reached for her centre, eyes hooded with lust. Once his middle and ring finger came into contact with her wetness, he let out a strangled moan. He slid his fingers over her, pushing them slowly into her and out again, making the ache of her core hurt with need. The teasing would surely kill her at one point.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he mumbled. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

“Taste me.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, her commands making every single hair on his body stand on end in excitement. Running his fingers over her again, he pushed them into her once more, pulling them out to circle her clit. She moaned, not able to help herself, and the sound of her pleasure brought Harry his, moaning along with her. He brought his fingers up, placing them inside his mouth and keeping eye contact with Y/N as he wrapped his lips around his fingers, sucking off her juices. Finding this so hot her entire body began to ache for him, Y/N brought him to her again, kissing him hard. Once again, they lost themselves in each other’s lips, tongues, and the taste. Y/N assumed she was tasting herself on him, but it soon disappeared as the kiss deepened, becoming hungrier than any of the other kisses.

“Get a condom,” she said at last, and in his haste to do just that, Harry almost slipped on the slippery shower floor. Y/N laughed, holding onto her stomach as Harry’s life flashed before his eyes, getting out of the shower to rummage through his bathroom drawer for his condoms. He was back not long after, shielding his covered-up cock from the water as he made his way over to her, putting the lube on the windowsill.

“Think my near death is funny, do you?”

“Hilarious.”

Harry laughed at that, pressing his forehead against hers again as he got a hold of her leg, bringing it up to his hip again.

Harry’s other hand ran from her collarbone, over her chest, and down to her centre, looking into her eyes the entire time. He helped angle her right, licking his lips before meeting her eyes again, resting his forehead once again against hers. They looked down as Harry positioned himself at her opening, Y/N averting her eyes after a little while just so she could look at him when they joined together again. He glanced up at her again as well, holding onto his shaft till most of him was inside her, then gripping her hips hard. They both moaned, unable to say another word as a heavenly feeling swept over them.

A gentleness, vulnerability, warmth lingered there between them as Harry moved in and out of her at a slow pace, it was a sort of feeling that one couldn’t properly speak of, it was too powerful for that. What transpired between them as Harry pounded into her, made her arch her back, was so much more than anything that had ever existed before this. There was an emotion yet to be described, yet to be given a word, that they created as they stood there in that shower, the lazy sunbeams shining in on them and the hot shower pouring down Harry’s back. Y/N hummed in contentment as Harry’s hips met hers, loving the feeling of him there, colliding with her once again.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbled, keeping his eyes on Y/N at all times. He brought her knee further up his hips, making it easier for him to fuck her right, and while doing that, spreading her wider for him as well. At this, she moaned loudly, digging her nails into the skin of his back. With that, Harry picked up the pace a little more, their wet bodies colliding in a rough yet delicious rhythm that had the both of them gasping for breath.

Y/N felt something inside her core, something that was tensing up and making it harder for her to concentrate on much else besides the heat of it and Harry in front of her. Harry continued to rock into her, their bodies crashing hard and loud. The sound of flesh against flesh, their rapid breathing, and the occasional moan was their entire universe in those blissful minutes.

His grip on her tightened, and Y/N couldn’t help herself, letting go of a loud cry of Harry’s name, the quick strokes bringing her closer to her orgasm dangerously fast. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, making Harry moan loudly against her, the sort that had him gasping afterwards.

Y/N wondered how she had ever thought that Harry’s feelings for her hadn’t been genuine. She wondered how she had not seen it sooner. Not only how Harry felt for her, but how she felt for him as well. It had taken her so long just to realise that the reason why she was so protective of him, why she wanted to be near him, and why she always felt like her breath got clogged somewhere in her throat when she saw him, was because she was falling in love with him. It had crept up on her so slowly, so powerfully, that she hadn’t realised it till it was too late. But regardless, Y/N was sure that even if she had recognised that she was falling in love with Harry while it was actually happening versus how she realised after it had all happened, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She was where she was supposed to be. Where the kindness she had sent out into the universe had brought her; where destiny had always envisioned her. With Harry. In St Ives.

She leaned forward, softly biting onto his bottom lip and it was like seeing his pupils dilate.

“Fuck me,” he mumbled, making Y/N grin.

She arched her back, the tenseness in her core tightening. The edges of her vision blurred as she watched Harry. As they came together, as they looked into each other’s eyes, Y/N knew that nothing would be better than this. She felt Harry everywhere. Felt him, smelled him, tasted him, heard him. He was everywhere all at once, and it was exactly as Y/N wanted it. She wanted him to leave more pieces of himself inside her, feel him shape her into a better version of herself, help her along the path to becoming the person she was supposed to be. There was a piece of him in each one of her molecules, and though she was sure this was an aspect of her life that would never truly dissipate, she knew Harry would always be with her. Wherever she went, whoever she was with, he had helped her on her way to discover herself, and for that she would always be grateful.

They kissed one another one more time, Y/N moaning against him as he thrust into her, this one rougher than all the ones before. Breaking away, they looked into each other’s eyes as she dug her nails into his scalp and shoulder. She came. The tenseness in her core erupted and she felt the effect like an earthquake all over her body. She was gasping, moaning, and looking into his eyes as pure bliss washed over her. The leg Harry was holding shook and it was a wonder the other one hadn’t given out from under her. She held onto him as she came down, smiling at him as if she couldn’t believe they’d just done that.

Y/N wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, holding onto him as he pounded into her, the veins in his neck popping out. She knew he was close, saw it and felt it. As his pace picked up some more, though she was still incredibly sensitive, Y/N felt a familiar burn herself. This had never happened before, she usually needed some time to gather herself and to not be as sensitive down there before she could go for a round two, but something about today was different. She gasped as Harry hit a particular spot and he looked into her eyes, refusing to keep them close as he had that last minute.

“Harry,” she moaned, making him grab her boob, squeezing it seductively.

Suddenly, there was a sound coming from outside. The two of them had been too caught up in one another and their little moment that they hadn’t heard the approaching car. Though Y/N quickly realised what was happening, Harry continued to fuck her, oblivious until a car door closed with a bang outside in the courtyard. He removed his face from where he had rested his forehead against hers, trying to peek out of the foggy window.

“Dax,” Harry said. “Think the rest as well.”

“Everyone’s here?!” Y/N hissed. “Everyone’s outside?!”

“Looks like it,” Harry said, turning back to her. “Just-“ He put one hand over her mouth. “Be quiet.”

“I’m not the one that needs to be quiet,” she said against his palm, but her voice was muffled by him covering her mouth. “You’re loud.”

“I’m not bloody loud, what’re you talking about?” Harry furrowed his brows.

Y/N chuckled. “Who cares? Just get a move on so we can go out there.”

Harry smiled and pressed his forehead against hers again, gripping her thigh harder as he began to make as small and quick movements as possible, trying not to make any noise. His pace, his flow, felt heavenly. Her eyes fluttered shut, digging her nails into Harry’s back. By the looks of it, this exact angle and tempo was doing it for Harry as well. He looked at her as he neared his climax, doing as Y/N said and trying to keep his mouth shut and moans to a minimum. She could tell he was struggling, and she squeezed his shoulder in encouragement as he continued to barely make any noise.

“Harry?!” Dax called from the front door, walking into the cottage. More footsteps sounded behind him and Harry stopped abruptly, looking over at the door through the blurry glass of the shower door. “Mate, where are you?”

Harry and Y/N looked at one another, eyes wide as they listened for more movement outside.

“Found him, Dax, Jo?” Fatima called from outside, her footsteps along with, what Y/N could only assume, Amir and Ellie nearing the cottage.

“No, he’s not here,” Jo answered.

“Where the fuck could he have gone? Not like he’s supposed to be anywhere else, is it?” Dax asked no one in particular. “He wasn’t in the lighthouse either?”

“No, but he just did his 9am,” Amir answered.

“What the fuck, then,” Dax said. The door into the bathroom burst open and Y/N tried not to scream. Harry pressed his body against Y/N’s so Dax wouldn’t see any of her. “Haz-“ Everything was disturbingly silent for a single second before Dax realised what he must be looking at. “OH!”

“A bit preoccupied at the moment, Dax!” Harry shouted out at his best mate where he still stood in the bathroom doorway.

“Right! Sorry!” Dax slammed the bathroom door shut. Harry and Y/N looked at one another, both giggling and doing their best not to be heard by the others outside. “We’ll just fuck off outside then!”

There was a slight silence outside in the cottage till Ellie finally asked, “What’s going on?”

“Harry and Y/N,” Dax explained. “They’re in the shower.”

“What?!” exclaimed Fatima.

“In the shower, or in the shower shower?” Amir asked, it sounded like he was wiggling his eyebrows along with his question.

“Mate. No,” Jo said.

“Would you lot mind buggering off for a bit?!” Harry shouted, making a flurry of footsteps move hastily towards the front door. They could all be heard outside, chatting excitedly and fast. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed, making Y/N laugh.

“Right,” Harry said, bringing her leg higher up as to get better access. She gasped. “Where were we?”

She bit her lips, grinning at him. Harry started at the same pace as before, fucking her quickly and with small movements as not to be heard, not sure how well the sound of their wet bodies slamming together would carry. Y/N reached for the lube, making Harry let out a small breath as if he had completely forgotten about it, but appreciated that Y/N had. Once again, she had to angle herself so best to access his bum, and when she did, she slid her fingers slowly into him.

“Fuck,” Harry hissed.

He continued with his small and quick movements as to make it easier for Y/N to keep her fingers in. She curled them slightly upward, watching as Harry’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Y/N,” he moaned, voice trembling slightly. She kept her fingers like that, feeling that, with each of Harry’s movements, he ignited the fire inside, making her heat up all over again. Harry’s whimpers got more frequent and desperate, not fully knowing what to do with himself as his orgasm got closer and closer.

“Come on, baby,” she mumbled, and that was all it took. Her calling him that. Finally, Harry was brought towards climax. He came looking into Y/N’s eyes, everyone and everything else completely forgotten as he filled the condom, moaning her name and gripping her body harder. She had felt the oncoming second orgasm herself, and though she hadn’t thought Harry would’ve noticed her like that, he had.

“I can go down on you,” he offered, pulling himself out of her. “We can-“

“-No,” Y/N laughed. “They’re waiting for you.”

“For us,” Harry corrected her, getting up as he had hunched down, ready to make her come a second time. “They’re waiting for us.”

Y/N smiled at him, stroking his cheek as he stood before her. He leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips as they relished in the last of their moment together.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” he said against her lips, making Y/N’s tummy, which was already filled with butterflies, tickle with anticipation.

“I’ll just wash up.”

“Alright, I’ll wait.”

Harry dried himself off as quickly as possible, running out into the living room to get a new pair of boxers and jeans along with Y/N’s dress and jumper. He put on his underwear and jeans, then picked up the tee shirt Y/N had been wearing the bed the night before, making a note to sniff it in front of Y/N just so he could watch her laugh at him. She got dressed as well, suddenly filled with dread for what was waiting for them outside. Once in the foyer, Harry pulled her closer, kissing her one more time, smiling against her. She giggled, kissing him again before they both turned to the door and walked outside.

Everyone was sat on the grass beside the lighthouse, not too close to the cliff, but close enough so that the wind was rather harsh. As Harry and Y/N approached, Fatima looked over her shoulder, smiling at them before she alerted the others, making them all stand up. Y/N felt a tenseness in her chest, terrified of what would happen the second they started chatting. She hadn’t forgotten the look of hurt on Dax’s face, or how hurt Fatima had been, or how Jo looked between Harry and Y/N, refusing to believe what they were saying was true.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Harry asked once they were close enough to talk.

Amir’s eyes fell on Y/N, giving her a smile before he looked at Harry. Jo opened their mouth, crossing their arms over their chest. “Think you got some explaining to do. Both of you.”

Harry looked at Y/N who glanced back at him, but she quickly stared at the others, feeling her hands go all clammy.

“Well,” Harry started, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s probably what you think.”

“What’s that?” asked Dax.

“I’m in love with Y/N,” Harry said, as if it was the simplest and most profound fact of the world. “And she’s in love with me.”

Dax looked between them, studying each of their faces. “Alright,” he said, pausing for two seconds. “Why bother lying, then?”

“That’s… That’s not a lie.”

“I didn’t mean lie about that, why did you have to lie about being a couple when you were on your way to become one in the first place?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “It’s not that simple, though. We didn’t know we’d end up caring for one another like that when we first met.”

“Dax,” Fatima said, raising her eyebrows at him. “I know you’re hurt Harry lied to you-“

“-Nah, I’m not hurt. I’m fuming.”

Harry let out a huff. “Thought you were over it, mate.”

“But I’m not.” Dax looked Harry dead in the eyes. “Look, I’m happy for you. Genuinely, I am. You more than anyone else deserve to find love, especially when that someone you fall in love with is Y/N, yeah? But…” Dax trailed off, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m still hurt that my best friend lied to me. I tell you everything, Haz.”

“I wanted to tell you, Dax. Really.”

“But?”

“But you love to gossip, mate! You’re just like your mum!”

“I wouldn’t have told people about this, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “Listen, be mad, yeah? Take your time to be mad. I’m sorry.” He looked at all his other friends as well. Amir, Fatima, Jo, Ellie. “I’m sorry for lying about this. It was a stupid thing to lie about, but I was desperate and before either of us really knew what was going on, we were just fake dating.”

Ellie nodded along, smiling a little at both Y/N and Harry’s wet hairs. “But you’re not fake dating anymore… right?”

Harry smiled as well, looking at Y/N. “No.”

“Aww, you two!” Fatima exclaimed.

“We haven’t discussed it yet, she told me yesterday that she won’t leave St Ives, so…” Harry shrugged, holding up his hand to stop Fatima, Amir, Ellie and Jo from celebrating. “It’s not official.”

“But you fancy each other, yeah?” Amir grinned. “That’s enough, innit?”

“So it’s really not fake this time?” Dax asked, looking at Harry as he spoke. “You’re genuinely in love?”

“Mate,” Harry said, a red colour crossing his cheekbones. “You just saw us shagging in the shower.”

Jo howled with laughter and Ellie giggled, looking over at Fatima who was having trouble holding Amir up as he was pretending to faint from shock. Even Dax had trouble not laughing at that, a single chuckle escaping his lips as he studied Y/N and Harry who were both flustered, hair still a mess from just having gotten out of the shower. Harry took a step closer to Y/N, nudging her with his hips. Once their eyes met, Y/N was taken back to their shared moment in the shower, blushing furiously again.

“Alright,” Dax said, smiling at them. “I guess I was just offended.”

“Don’t make this about yourself, bruv,” Amir said, walking over to stand between Y/N and Harry, flinging his arms over their shoulders. “Everything’s back to normal, innit?”

“Well, a new normal,” Harry pointed out. “We still have to figure out a lot of things.”

“Ah, well, that’ll come easy,” Amir smiled. “Bottom line, for us, nothing’s really gonna change. We always thought you were together, and now you’re actually together.”

Y/N looked over at Fatima who shrugged, clearly agreeing with her cousin.

Amir patted them each on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “We came here to check if Harry was alright. Haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, mate.”

“No, I’ve…” Harry’s eyes flickered over to Y/N before he met Amir’s eyes again. “Been a bit… well, sad.”

“That’s okay,” Amir said. “You feeling better now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry smiled, looking at Y/N again. “Loads.”

“Wicked.” Amir gave Harry a pat on the back. “Pub, anyone?”

“It’s not even noon,” Fatima said, raising her eyebrows at Amir.

“Who cares? Everyone’s about to go back to their everyday lives, think we should just spend a day doing nothing in particular, don’t you?” Amir looked around the ground with his mouth agape in anticipation.

“Actually,” Harry said, looking apologetically at Amir. “Y/N and I gotta go to the farm real quick.”

Amir’s face fell. “Why?”

“We just need to talk to Jessa, Gracie, lolo, and uncle Timmy. You know…” Harry motioned with his arms before him. “About what Y/N and I did.”

“Ahh!” Amir gave Harry’s back a pat, nodding his head. “Yeah, alright.”

Y/N’s heart fell again. She hadn’t even thought of that. They would have to face Jessa and Grace as well, and apologise for what they had done. Y/N wouldn’t be mad at Jessa if she didn’t forgive her or Harry for this. After all, they had lied to her all summer, not thinking that they’d end up actually falling in love with one another in the end.

“You’ll pop by later, then? Balcony?” Dax asked, Harry nodding as an answer that they would. “Wicked! See you in an hour or summat then.”

Y/N and Harry watched as the others made their way over to Dax’s car, Amir jumping onto Jo’s back and Ellie laughing her ass off when Jo almost face-planted from the unexpected impact. Harry walked over to Y/N, raising his eyebrows slowly as if to ask

Hadn’t been there since everything had happened. This was where her family had shown up and where Dominic had dragged Harry to the ground. The thought made her sick. Her family had all been here and she had let them treat Harry like that. Taking a deep breath, Y/N just looked at the farm, feeling as if she should just turn back around and walk away from it all. She didn’t deserve to be close to Jessa, or Grace, or lolo-

“Flower?”

She looked at Harry who was watching her with big eyes.

“You alright?”

“No. Not really, no.”

Harry nodded slightly. “Yeah, it’s… I mean, it’s gonna be alright. I know it is. But Jessa… Blimey, I hate disappointing Jessa.”

“Has she given you a hard time before for disappointing her?”

“Yeah, and it was just as you can expected it to,” Harry chuckled. “She would give me the cold shoulder and make me feel bad till I finally gave in and apologised.”

“Oh, my word, Harry, we should’ve done this sooner-“

“-We weren’t on speaking terms then, were we?” Harry reasoned. “We have spent days trying to talk, and now we have. We’ve always needed to do this together. Don’t think it would’ve been completely alright till you came with to apologise as well, Jessa wouldn’t think so.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I-“

“-Harry?”

They both turned to look at Jessa as she walked out of the hen house, lolo’s straw hat on her head and walking slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Y/N?”

Hearing Jessa say her name was surreal, especially after everything. She didn’t sound mad; she didn’t sound disappointed. In fact, she just sounded confused, as if the sight before her was the most peculiar yet familiar thing in the world. Not wanting to postpone this any longer, Y/N started walking towards the farm, Harry following close behind her. As they walked through the gate, Jessa stopped walking, holding onto her basket filled with eggs as she watched them move to her. The door to the main house opened, Grace and lolo along with Tim stood there, eyes on Harry and Y/N as they stopped in front of Jessa. They were sure the others could hear them, Grace even walked a little closer as if she wanted to run to Harry and Y/N, but stopped herself as she noticed they were directing all their attention at Jessa.

“How are you feeling?” Jessa asked Harry, eyes scanning him from head to toe. “Not had any other hypo situations?”

“No,” Harry answered quickly. “No, I’ve been alright.”

Jessa nodded, eyes falling on Y/N. “They’ve gone back to Hampshire?”

Jessa didn’t have to say who she was talking about for Y/N to understand completely. The chat she had with Jessa Tuesday the week before still fresh in her mind. Y/N nodded as an answer to Jessa’s question. “They left a few days ago.”

“Good,” Jessa answered curtly. “Didn’t like them. Quite rude of them to just show up to a party like that unannounced.”

“Yeah, they’ve never much considered other people’s feelings.”

A small smile flickered over Jessa’s lips. “No, I could tell.”

Y/N smiled back a little, looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. She could tell he was about to speak, but she beat him to it, whipping her head in Jessa’s direction again. “We’re so sorry.” She glanced at Grace, lolo, and Tim as well. “So sorry.”

Harry looked away from Y/N at the others. “It’s all my fault.”

“Harry-“

“-No, Y/N, it is.” Harry let out a huge sigh, meeting Jessa’s eyes. “I’m sorry, nanay. I’ve always told you everything. Always. But you were fussing so much about how I was lonely at Clodgy, something I wasn’t. I was perfectly okay up there by myself, I like my own company. Ever since Emilia… well, I like being alone. But… But…” Harry stopped, growing red in the cheeks. “You know… I thought if I pretended to have a girlfriend, you’d get off my back a bit.” He let out a chuckle. “I should’ve known better, though. You just want what’s best for me, so you want to know every detail of everything.”

Jessa was eerily silent, not moving an inch.

“And I know it was a fucking daft move, alright? Well out of line for me to lie about something like that, a-and… and…” Harry looked down at Y/N. “And especially stupid of me to drag Y/N into it. She had no idea what she did when she went along to pretend to be my girlfriend on Fore Street that day.”

“Hang on,” Grace said, frowning. “We met Y/N on Fore Street.”

“Yeah, that was the first time I met Y/N myself.”

“That same day?” Tim asked.

“Yes.”

“And you just asked someone to me your fake girlfriend to further your lie?” Tim still sounded confused. Y/N’s palms were getting clammy.

“Y-Yes.” Harry nodded his head. “It’s entirely my fault.”

“Harry, no.” Y/N looked up at him. “I helped.”

“It wasn’t your idea, was it?”

Y/N was about to protest, said that it didn’t matter, but Harry went on.

“I went to the Inn to tell Y/N not to worry about this fake relationship of ours, ‘cause… I couldn’t keep it from you, Jessa. I couldn’t lie to you like that.” Harry sighed again. “But you had already told everyone, so we would’ve looked well stupid to just tell everyone that we lied, it wasn’t true, we weren’t a couple.”

“As opposed to everyone finding out at the party last Friday that it had been fake all this time?” Jessa asked, making both Harry and Y/N shut up.

A small silence stretched out then, when the only sound they heard was the wind blowing through the trees around them and the hens in the hen house. Y/N looked around at everyone before her, trying to see all of their reactions. No one spoke for what felt like a century, and it was hard to see what any of them thoughts because panic was starting to rise within Y/N. Did they all hate her? No one was saying anything, did they really detest her? What her and Harry had done, they’d never forgive them, would they? Y/N felt lightheaded, sure that she had never been anticipating an answer from someone as much as she was anticipating these people before her.

Suddenly, Jessa took a small step forward, her head cocked and eyes flicking between Y/N and Harry. She looked thoughtful, though no anger could be detected on her face.

“You know,” Jessa started, clutching the egg basket a little closer to her. “I never once doubted you two weren’t an item. Not once.”

Harry’s cheeks got redder, eyes falling to the ground.

“But I don’t think that’s something to be embarrassed about, Harry,” Jessa said, voice very soft all of a sudden and Y/N felt like crying. “I could tell there was something between you two that I hadn’t seen between you and Emilia, Harry. After Emilia left,” Jessa said, looking at Y/N now. “Harry was very sad at first, but I had never seen him as happy as that time after all that mourning. He was so, so happy. Just as he deserved. Wasn’t easy, losing his father… or my husband, like that.”

Y/N nodded, understanding that it must’ve been a grief unlike anything anyone would ever have the capability to explain.

“But the second you came into his life - when you arrived in St Ives, to be more specific, ‘cause you were kind of there while Harry lied about having a girlfriend – but when you came into his life… something in him shifted. He was still happy, still himself, but it comes easier to him now to articulate himself. To find his words. He had huge trouble with that before. Always had. Words, new beginnings, new opportunities, it’s all come easier to him since you came into his life. And that-“ Jessa pointed her finger at Harry’s chest as she met his eyes again. “-That is why I’m not mad now.”

Harry blinked.

“Whatever is going on between you two, it’s not fake. If you’re saying that, if you’ve ever said that or believed that, you’ve lied to yourselves, not to anyone else,” Jessa said. “Yes, you’ve lied to us about being in a relationship. Yes, it was a tragic thing to do.”

Harry winced at her words, nodding his head. Y/N knew she must’ve had the same reaction, but she didn’t know or care what she looked like just then. All she cared about was Jessa, Grace, lolo, and Tim.

“But,” Jessa continued. “I would’ve been mad if you two weren’t in love at all. I’m disappointed it took you two this long to admit it, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re both as oblivious as each other.” She let out a sigh. “You’re forgiven.” She met Y/N’s eyes, smiling. “Both of you.”

Y/N bit her lip as it started to tremble, everything she had felt these last few minutes finally leaving her. Relief and peace finally flooded through her veins.

“I meant what I said that day, Y/N,” Jessa said, taking Y/N’s hand with her free one. “You are loved unconditionally here, with us.”

Y/N nodded her head, squeezing Jessa’s hand.

“Right,” Jessa grinned, looking up at Harry. “Free for a cuppa, my lovelies?”

“No, uhm…” Harry ran a hand through his hair, smiling down at Jessa. “We’re going to the pub with the gang. Getting a quick pint in before summer ends.”

“How nice,” Jessa said. “You two will pop by tomorrow then?”

“Yes,” Y/N answered, and Jessa’s smile widened. The older woman took a few steps toward Y/N, wrapping her arm around her in a hug. Y/N hugged her back, forcing back the tears she felt pressing on.

“We’ll see you then,” Jessa said, going in to hug Harry next.

“See you!” Grace grinned as she ran over, arms outstretched for Y/N. Y/N giggled, hoping no one heard her strangled sob. She bent down, hugging Grace to her, closing her eyes as Grace’s hold on Y/N tightened. Lolo and Tim came over as well, both smiling at Y/N and giving her hugs, patting and stroking her back, as if they both knew how much she needed it. Harry and Y/N said the last few goodbyes to their family before they walked over to Harry’s van, sitting back there in silence.

Harry suddenly turned to look at Y/N, leaning over to take her face in his hands so roughly and unexpectedly that Y/N squealed. He kissed her firmly on the lips, leaving small pecks all over her face as a grin erupted across his lips. Y/N laughed, holding onto his wrists and closing her eyes until he stopped. All the way to The Balcony Bar and Kitchen, Harry held onto Y/N’s hand, clutching onto it between changing gears, never once letting go voluntarily. Y/N thought this was quite funny, but she didn’t say this. She appreciated how he wanted to stay close to her all he could, whenever he could, just as he had said last night at 3am.

The Balcony Bar and Kitchen was an old pub, but at the far end of the pub, the entire wall facing the beach was made out of tall windows. Y/N could make out their little gang sitting at one of the tables, talking merrily amongst themselves as her and Harry strolled up to the bar.

“What do you fancy?” Harry asked her, standing so close that their sides were flush against one another. Y/N suddenly wanted to be back in the Clodgy cottage again so Harry could make up for before, as he had promised her he would once they were back there later. A chill went up her spine and she smiled, loving the fact that she could stand there and imagine a future, no matter how near or far away it was, where Harry was present.

“Whatever you’re having,” Y/N said simply.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Really sure?”

“Really, really sure, in fact.”

Harry chuckled, ordering two pints from the bartender who had come up to them just then.

“Y/N.”

Once again, Y/N felt like she could’ve done without hearing that voice again. She thought she would’ve heard it for the last time at the end of summer party, but she guessed she hadn’t been that lucky. Looking to her right, she saw Emilia standing there. Harry tensed to her left, watching as the bartender made them their pints.

“Could we have a chat?” Emilia asked, taking Y/N completely off guard. It took her a few tries to get the correct words out, but Y/N managed to utter a quick, “Yeah,” to which Emilia smiled gratefully.

“I’ll take these to our table,” Harry said to Y/N, giving Emilia a smile before he walked back over to their little group by the window.

Emilia inhaled slowly, looking down at the bar counter before she met Y/N’s eyes again. “It’s been a weird summer, hasn’t it?”

Y/N was still not sure what was going on or why Emilia was trying to make small talk. If she wanted to say something to Y/N, then she should just say it right away. Y/N had people she’d rather be with.

Emilia must’ve sensed Y/N’s confusion at what was going on, so she sighed and turned to look at Y/N fully. “I just wanna talk about everything. I could tell there was a bit of tension between us at the end of summer party.”

Y/N rested her elbow on the counter beside her. “Yeah, there was.”

“I just wanted to talk that out, ‘cause I don’t know what you think, but it’s a bit stupid to have gotten off on the wrong foot like this when we barely know each other, isn’t it?”

Y/N took a moment to study Emilia, trying to decipher if the words she had just spoken were genuine. “Yeah.”

“I came back from Munich and found out that Harry had a girlfriend, and I was delighted. He-“

“-You were?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, of course,” Emilia answered. “Harry deserves to be happy.”

Y/N tried not to let it show on her face that she was shocked by this news. “He does.”

“I was told he had a girlfriend, and the second we met, I just felt like you didn’t like me.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Was a bit hard to when you used the power you know you have over Harry to show me that you still have the ability to make him do anything you want. And I think you got the idea that I ‘didn’t like you’ when I told Harry I felt uncomfortable with this, and he stopped giving you attention.”

Emilia fell quiet.

“Am I right?”

“You don’t know what happened between us, Harry and I.”

“I do, in fact. Harry’s told me.”

Emilia’s mouth was a thin line now. “Alright. My boyfriend of one year back in Munich broke up with me and I was sad about it. It was wrong of me to seek comfort in Harry, I’m sorry.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some. “So… my theory’s correct? You wanted to know that you still exerted some dominance over Harry, even after all those years, and have him crawl back to you so you’d feel… what, better about yourself after being broken up with? Did you want someone to make you feel better?”

“I’m aware it was wrong of me, okay-“

“-No, I don’t think you get how fucking disgusting that is.”

Emilia turned silent again, blinking at Y/N.

“You didn’t even talk to him after you left. His dad died and his girlfriend broke up with him, he was left completely broken ‘cause of you, but he’s too good to say any of this to your face,” Y/N said, taking a small step forward.

“I left because of my mental health.”

“And that’s valid, but you should also know that by doing that, you left a hole in Harry that it took a while for him to fill up himself. You don’t get to walk in and out of someone’s life whenever it suits you, especially when they’re doing so much better now than they ever did with you there.”

Emilia looked away.

“It might feel like it, but you’re not the only person in the world that possesses feelings. We all do. The way you keep treating others and neglecting the fact that your actions will stay with them forever, is a dangerous sort of ignorance that I suggest you do something about.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t want to. I’ve heard enough from everyone else.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not my decision to make, but in my opinion, you should think twice before you try and make a place for yourself in Harry’s life again. His friends and family don’t really have a great picture of you any longer.”

Emilia sighed, meeting Y/N’s eyes again. “You know, I get where you’re coming from.”

It was Y/N’s turn to be silent now.

“You want to protect Harry, make sure nothing happens to him, and I know I hurt him bad, so naturally you don’t want me in his life. But, as you said, that’s his call,” Emilia said. “I shouldn’t have gone after Harry when I came back from Munich, it was stupid of me, especially considering how happy he looked with you. Granted, it was all fake, but I know Harry and I could tell he fancied the pants off you.”

Y/N gave Emilia a small smile, trying to make some sort of peace.

“I won’t stand in the way of you two.”

“I appreciate that. I’m sure Harry does as well.”

Emilia nodded, giving Y/N a smile.

“Y/N!” Fatima called from where she sat with all the others. When Y/N looked in their direction, she simply could not help her smile. They were all chatting amongst themselves, laughing at something, and Fatima and Harry were looking her way, beckoning her over.

“Hope you have a good day, Emilia,” Y/N said-

“You too, Y/N.”

And with that, Y/N walked back over to her friends. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her to him where he stood at the edge of the table, everyone else perched on bar stools around the tall table. Fatima clinked her glass against Y/N’s, Jo grinned in Y/N’s direction, while Ellie, Amir and Dax were in an animated discussion about something Y/N didn’t catch. Harry leaned down, pressing a small peck to Y/N’s temple, and the grin that spread out across Y/N’s smile almost hurt. A sort of restless anticipation mingled with such utter contentment that it was hard for her to think she’d ever lived, breathed, loved, anywhere but right there in St Ives.

Thursday, 10 September

The universe would always balance itself out, Y/N McKay was aware of this. She was aware that if she had faith and believed everything happens for a reason, it would make the tough times of her life easier to mentally handle. If she did good, the universe would work to give back to her in some other form. And now, after a summer randomly spent in Cornwall, she had found it in herself to believe in destiny as well.

She believed that there was a place where she belonged. People she was supposed to meet, and places she was supposed to see. These people, places, and feelings would help you along the road to self-realisation. They would shape her and make everything make sense, would make all the suffering and the struggles she had faced up until then worth it in a way. Each one of the people Y/N had met in St Ives had had that effect on her. They had made her realise things about herself and her life that she would never have figured out without them. She took that summer with her for the rest of her life; letting the sun beams of St Ives shine through in her smile, the goodness of the locals reflect in her own acts of kindness, the calming feeling of walking along the sand of Porthminster Beach show in her warmness and relaxing effect on the people around her.

Y/N had no idea when she walked out of the door of the building in Bethnal Green, London that September 10th that the summer she had just experienced would play that big of a role in shaping the continuation of her entire life. She had no idea that she would receive top marks on her UCAT she took in Bethnal Green, the following day. Nor that she would attend University of Plymouth for the next six years, graduating with a degree in Dentistry. And she had no idea that, even after all those years, she’d still be with the lighthouse keeper of St Ives. Only now that she was done with University, she moved back to her hometown, to her family, friends, and boyfriend, and would live there for the rest of her life.

No, Y/N didn’t know any of that as she walked out after her UCAT on the second Thursday of September that year. She chose not to think too much about her future at that time, realising that whatever would be, would be, and there was nothing she could change about that now.

Harry, who had driven her to London that day, was stood by his car not too far away, looking down at his phone as he replied to a text. She was sure no one had ever stood by their car like this, with no other agenda than to wait for her before this. Then again, Harry would always do stuff like this as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him, expecting nothing in return. Which had come as a shock to Y/N at first, but once she realised she was doing the same thing for the people she loved as well, she understood.

The UCAT had been awful, at least at first. The questions were difficult, she had to rack her brain properly for most of them, and she could swear she had heard someone crying at one point. She had to put a hand on her own cheek to check for tears, scared that it had been her. But then, during the chaos of everything, she remembered what Harry had said to her when they woke up in the Clodgy cottage that same morning, “It’s a beautiful day to do beautiful things,” and her nerves calmed themselves considerably. Because he was right. It was a beautiful day and she would do beautiful things. The thought of getting out of there and to Harry again was enough motivation to get her through the rest of the UCAT.

Upon hearing some footsteps, Harry looked in the direction of where they were coming. He instantly shoved his phone back down into the pockets of his denim jeans, smiling at Y/N as she approached him.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve got a good feeling,” she admitted, walking over to where he was standing. “But I don’t want to get my hopes up. I get the results back in 24 hours.”

Harry huffed, sliding his thumb reassuringly over her cheek. “You know what I think?”

“Think I already do.”

“You’ll do amazing, the results will be exactly as you dreamed they’d be, and life will be ama-“

“-Amazing,” Y/N finished, making Harry chuckle. “You’ve said that word a lot this last month.”

“Can you blame me?” Harry asked, resting his hand at the back of her neck, bringing her to him so he could plant a kiss to her forehead. “Everything’s been amazing this last month. So I therefore believe that the UCAT results will reflect that.”

Y/N giggled again, walking over to the other side of Harry’s van and getting in. The two of them got comfortable and Harry started driving back to St Ives. Y/N knew how much Harry hated London, and especially the traffic there. He had made it very clear when they had entered the capital that he couldn’t stand Londoners, something that made Y/N giggle. She never saw him have proper road rage, this was the first time she’d ever truly seen it, and it has been more entertaining than she had thought.

He was no better on their way out of the city, hissing curse words under his breath as he honked at reckless drivers or pedestrians that crossed the street without any regard for oncoming traffic. Y/N knew that no matter what, she could not end up attending a University in London, because Harry would not survive the trips to and from the capital.

It was a long drive back to St Ives and she fell asleep once they were out of London and Harry didn’t wake her. He knew she had been stressing the last few weeks to revise and get everything ready for the UCAT, and now that everything was over, he must’ve thought she deserved a small break from it all, some time to relax. When Y/N woke up in St Ives a few hours later, she smiled a little to herself, looking down at the tote bag by her feet that she had filled with books. She had been ready to read out loud to Harry, but she had simply not had the energy this time around.

“Alright?” Harry asked, smiling over at Y/N as he drove up the hill to Clodgy Lighthouse. He took her hand, kissing her palm softly.

“Just dead tired,” Y/N answered, yawning slightly. “I might take a nap once we’re back.”

“Or you can wake up.”

She blinked, looking over at Harry who was smiling a little to himself. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll show you,” Harry said, grinning now as he killed the engine.

Not really knowing what he had planned, Y/N was apprehensive at first. She saw Harry walk over to the field beside the cottage, not really caring to know what he was doing. She was too tired for that. Next, she rubbed her eyes and took her seatbelt off, climbing out of the van to join him. Harry ran for the lighthouse and Y/N followed, smiling at his eagerness to wake her up. The sun was shining brightly above them, not a single cloud in sight, and even though it was September, it was fairly warm out despite the wind.

Harry showed the way up the lighthouse, grinning back at her every once in a while. And though Y/N wanted to ask him what he was up to this time around, she didn’t bother. She knew he’d be cryptic or leave her hanging, neither option seemed very appealing now that she was slightly irritable because of her lack of sleep. Harry opened the door out onto the gallery deck, letting Y/N wander out first. She raised her eyebrows some but did as she supposed he wanted her to. Walking out onto the deck, the wind hit her hard across the face. If you stood directly facing it, it was impossible to open your eyes completely. She could see what Harry meant by this being a method to wake up some.

“Please,” Harry said. “Go along.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, but walked further onto the deck, even though she was sure Harry would’ve fit perfectly fine next to where she had originally standing.

“I’ll owe you my life if you just go along for a minute or two, yeah?”

Y/N’s frown deepened as she looked at him. “What?”

“I don’t usually do this,” Harry grinned. “I mean, I never do this. I’ve never done this before. But, you see…” He walked closer to her, taking her face in his hands. “My mum and my sister think I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t.”

Y/N’s heart instantly melted, and she felt herself grinning right back at him.

“I was wondering, if it’s not too much to ask, of course, if you’d like to be my girlfriend? My real, proper girlfriend.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him before taking a grip of his shirt and bringing him closer. Though she didn’t know why Harry needed to do this at the top of the lighthouse, right under the light that guided sailors home, she didn’t mind. This felt right. This felt like them. This was them. It was real, it felt silly, unexpected, and a little odd, but that was what it felt like being with Harry.

She looked up into his eyes, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll be your real, proper girlfriend.”

Harry let out a breath of relief and grinned down at her, bringing her closer to him and planting a misplaced kiss onto her lips. They both giggled against one another. It hadn’t struck Y/N until now that they hadn’t made it official like this. Too much had been on her mind, she hadn’t allowed much else besides the UCAT to take up her time prior to this moment, but how that it had finally happened, Y/N felt just as relieved as Harry looked to be. She was glad that Harry had waited until now, after the UCAT, to ask, and she was also very glad to see how eager he had been to ask her.

Harry pulled away, detaching a hand from where it had rested at her neck, and held out a bellflower that he had picked outside the cottage. Reaching forward, he placed the bellflower behind Y/N’s ear, smiling to himself as he looked at it, the smile widening as he met her eyes. Y/N felt like she could burst with happiness in that very moment, probably lighting up all the oceans of the world with how much she was radiating.

“My bell room,” Harry said, touching the bellflower resting by her ear before he brought her in for another kiss.

A HUGE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! Couldn’t have written ST without them! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​​​​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​​​​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​​​​ 🌊 @harrys-shrooms 🌊 @honeydearly​​ 🌊 @sunflowers-styles​ 🌊 @watermelonsuger​​​​​ 🌊  @withallthelove-a​​​​​ 🌊

And so it’s over 😭 Thank you thank you thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you to each one of you who have been reading, reblogging, come to chat, or sent any sort of love ST’s way the last few months! There is something so liberating and beautiful about creating a world in which you feel peace, and then find that others find that same peace, that same sense of belonging, within the same world as you 💖 Each one of you remind me of why I continue to share my writing on here! Thank you for making writing, Tumblr, and fic fun! You all have my heart 💘 I LOVE YOU 💞💞

As for next fic project, as I’ve gotten quite a few questions about that already !! I’m gonna take a break from writing! Maybe a month, maybe two, dunno! I’ll still be writing some deleted scenes from ST and posting onto my Patreon, but as for a full 10+ chaptered fic, which is what I want to write next, I don’t know! But, as always, I’ll be tagging my posts with new fic tags and planning whenever I get an idea !!!! So keep an eye out lmao !!!!

Besides that, here are two songs I imagine would be playing if the end credits to ST was rolling right now 🐚 You can find the rest of the ST playlist here!

As ST!Harry said, I love you immeasurably, and as Jessa said, you’ll always have a home and a place you belong, here, in the ST universe 🌊

Your bestie, Nora ✨✨

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

[butterflies-dragons]

Do you have any doubts that Sansa is the girl in grey? Is there strong grey imagery around Sansa?

I believe Sansa is the grey girl yes, but only GRRM has that answer.

About grey imagery around Sansa, I wrote about it here and there.

Grey is the main Stark color. Their sigil is a grey direwolf in a white field. Stark men wear grey cloaks, Winterfell is made of grey granite, Grey eyes is a Stark feature, etc.

There are some instances where Sansa actually wears or it is said that she will wear a grey cloak:

1.- Her first encounter with Dontos (false Florian) in the Red Keep's Godswood: "Sansa threw a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and picked up the knife she used to cut her meat. If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself. She hid the blade under her cloak."

It is very curious that Dontos was also wearing grey during that first secret encounter: "He wore a dark grey robe with the cowl pulled forward, but when a thin sliver of moonlight touched his cheek, she knew him at once by the blotchy skin and web of broken veins beneath. "Ser Dontos," she breathed, heartbroken. "Was it you?"

2.- Cersei gave her a white and silver maiden cloak for her wedding to Tyrion. Stark colors are grey and white tho... I think in this case the silver is there instead of the grey of House Stark. I'm not sure if this is a mistake or not. "Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain."

Curiously enough, Tyrion wore Targaryen colors to marry Sansa lol

3.- Littlefinger planned for Alayne to reveal her true identity as Sansa Stark wearing a maiden cloak with the Stark colors grey and white: "Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright.

From my answer about certain ship foreshadowing:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said. “Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. “You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned. “If that is the will of R’hllor. Night’s powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god’s holy fire.” “You heart does not concern me. Just your hands.” “The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” “I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

Earlier in this chapter, Jon was thinking about Arya and her situation (trapped with the Boltons), and he was frustrated for not being able to help her. Then he remembered Ygritte, he confused Melisandre for Ygritte.

So, reading all the context:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? = This is about Ygritte. He is still hurt and mourning for her.

What do you know of my sister? = This is about Arya and her situation.

This is an excellent example of how GRRM plays with our minds with his tricky words:

“At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”.  He is introducing us to the Grey Girl and her true identity.

Jon thinks he is seeing Ygritte but he was actually seeing Melissandre.

Melisandre and Jon also believe this grey girl of the visions is Arya Stark, but the person trapped with the Boltons is Jeyne Poole. And later, Alys Karstark was not even wearing a “grey” cloak.

For me the grey girl is neither of them. The answer is hidden in this line: “At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”.

***

"At night all robes are grey" means all the confusion about the grey girl's true identity: Arya or Jeyne or Alys Karstark.

"Yet suddenly hers were red" means that the girl with the grey cloak will be a redhead, like Ygritte and Melisandre the two women Jon was confusing.

So, Sansa as the grey girl makes a lot of sense, she is a redhead and she is a Stark, and grey is the main Stark color.

And this is not the first time that Jon confused Ygritte with another female. Jon dreamed of a ghastly grey direwolf wandering around the Crypts of Winterfell, that seems to be Lady’s Shade:

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his her golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

Despite Jon assuming the direwolf was a "he," I strongly suspect it was Lady's Shade. Lady is buried at Winterfell, not Grey Wind. Lady was beheaded with Ice, so her fur would be spotted with blood. And Lady was said to have sad eyes.

So, Jon is always confusing Ygritte with another redheads...

From my Dunk & Jon meta:

Maybe I’m seeing too much here, but the reference to Alysanne Osgrey [Os-Grey] makes me think of Sansa Stark, because:

Sansa shared a lot of parallels with Good Queen Alysanne.

The surname Osgrey has the word grey in it.

Alysanne Osgrey became a Silent Sister.

Silent Sisters always wear grey.

Silent Sisters are known as the Stranger’s wives.

According to Melissandre, the Grey Girl of her visions is Jon Snow’s Sister.

The Grey Girl will probably be Sansa Stark.

Grey is also the color of House Stark, so Sansa is, in a way, a Grey Girl.

Jon is a man that will defeat death and come back to life, like the Stranger that walks between the two worlds.

The Stranger’s face is half animal, like Jon who is a warg, half man and half beast.

From my Jon/Sansa/Winterfell meta:

The stone is strong = The walls of Winterfell = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark has a lot of stone imagery around her.

Winterfell’s walls are made of grey granite. Grey is also a color of House Stark and I believe that Sansa will be the girl in grey on a dying horse from Melisandre’s vision.

As the Heir to Winterfell, Sansa was practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one that controlled her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism from the Books, Sansa Stark was the “key to the north.”

Sansa reflects about this objectification in the Books and gives us one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially coming from a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love,” (because everyone only wants her for her claim to Winterfell and the north).

Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall that he never got to break:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The castle wall that armored Sansa and Tyrion never got to break is a clear reference to Winterfell:

He remembered Winterfell as he had last seen it. Not as grotesquely huge as Harrenhal, nor as solid and impregnable to look at as Storm’s End, yet there had been a great strength in those stones, a sense that within those walls a man might feel safe.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

And certainly, Sansa feels stronger and protected within the walls of Winterfell:

Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa feeling stronger within the walls of Winterfell, sounds pretty similar to “the stone is strong” line from Bran quote cited above.

Later, while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon, Mya Stone tells Sansa that “a stone is a mountain’s daughter.”

Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

One of Winterfell’s possible meanings is “wintry mountain(s).” And Sansa Stark is “The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter”.

As the daughter of Petyr Baelish, Alayne Stone also becomes the Heir to Harrenhal, another great castle made of strong stone. Only dragon fire was able to melt Harrenhal’s stone walls:

Stone does not burn, Harren had boasted, but his castle was not made of stone alone. […] And even stone will crack and melt if a fire is hot enough. The riverlords outside the castle walls said later that the towers of Harrenhal glowed red against the night, like five great candles… and like candles, they began to twist and melt, as runnels of molten stone ran down their sides.

—The World of Ice and Fire - The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

Moreover we have the parallels that Sansa shares with Jenny of Oldstones. And Oldstones serves us as an example of the strength of the stone.

Just like Winterfell was the stronghold of the ancient Kings of Winter, Oldstones was the stronghold of the ancient River Kings (House Mudd of Oldstones), both dynasties descendants of the First Men. And if we read about Oldstones, thinking about Winterfell is an inevitability:

They reached Oldstones after eight more days of steady rain, and made their camp upon the hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings. Its foundations remained amongst the weeds to show where the walls and keeps had stood, but the local smallfolk had long ago made off with most of the stones to raise their barns and septs and holdfasts. Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle’s yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. The lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and there by spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king’s feet almost to his chest.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

Despite the pass of time the foundations of Oldstones remained and the stones were even used by the smallfolk to rise new buildings. The stone is really strong.

What also remained despite the centuries was the tomb of King Tristifer IV Mudd, also known as the Hammer of Justice, which immediately reminds me of the crypts of Winterfell and its stone kings sitting on their thrones with their swords across their laps.

And just like songs are still sung about a girl named Jenny from Oldstones who found true love with a Targaryen prince, I’m pretty sure that many songs will be sung about Sansa Stark from Winterfell and her own Targaryen prince.

Finally, is worth mentioning that Stark means “strong” in German. And there’s a theory about House Strong (extinguished) being linked to House Stark.

Stone = Strong = Stark

So by saying the stone is strong, we are also saying the stone is Stark.

Alayne Stone is Sansa Stark.

***

There you have it.

Thanks for your message ♡

[goodticklebrain]

POCKET BLOGS: Perilous Arrow’s Motion

Time for our final (for now) installment of Pocket Blogs by Kate Pitt! Thanks so much to Kate for sharing her inestimable Shakespearean geekery with me this month.

Last week we explored the early modern world of women (living and dead) caring for each other during childbirth. This week, we’ll find out how deeply medieval men could embed pointy metal objects into each other’s faces and survive. (The answer may surprise you!)

At the end of Henry V, once Agincourt has been won and the French and their fancy horses have been defeated, the scene shifts to the French court where Henry V woos the French Princess to be his bride. This wooing is little more than a formality, given that the marriage is a requirement of the peace treaty and Henry won’t stop killing her relatives without it. However this scene is usually (but not always) played as a meet-cute and Henry pours on the charm. 

By mine honor, in true English, I love thee, Kate. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father’s ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies, I fright them.

Henry apologizes for the way his face looks (not often necessary onstage) and blames his appearance on his father’s war-like distraction when he was conceived. However there is a much more straightforward explanation for his 34-year-old face looking past-its-best: twelve years earlier, he was hit in the face with an arrow.

The history of English royals surviving arrow-wounds up to this point was not great, so when sixteen-year-old Prince Henry was hit at the Battle of Shrewsbury in 1403 there must have been panic. This is the battle where Henry IV’s army defeated the rebel Hotspur and his forces. Shakespeare depicts Henry and Hotspur gloriously fighting to the death, when in reality Hotspur was killed by an arrow to the face and Henry nearly died from the same. 

Henry’s wound was not the “shallow scratch” he dismissively describes in Henry IV Part I when his father asks him to leave the battlefield because his bleeding is becoming conspicuous. Henry’s wound was “in posteriori parte ossis capiti secun-dum mensuram 6 uncharum.” (Ed. note – if blood isn’t your jam, last chance to bail before I start translating things.) In other words, the arrow was embedded six inches deep into his skull.

Someone yanked out the shaft of the arrow so Henry wasn’t walking around with over two feet of wood sticking out of his face, but the metal tip of the arrow (known as a bodkin point) was still firmly stuck in his head. Fifty years earlier, Scottish King David II allegedly survived an arrow wound where the point remained embedded, but it was generally accepted that leaving sharp bits of metal in the body was Not Good and the arrowhead would need to come out.

Henry IV turned to a surgeon named John Bradmore for help with his son’s wound. Bradmore was perfect for the job was because he was a metalworker in addition to being a surgeon and could create custom tools for tricky operations. After enlarging the wound over several days with honey-dipped probes, Bradmore forged a brand-new medical instrument – hollow tongs with an screw in the middle – that he used to grab onto the arrow head and (after a bit of wiggling) pull it from the bone. 

The prince survived, Bradmore wrote a book, and they both – I hope – drank a significant amount of wine (that wasn’t being used to disinfect Henry’s wound) after enduring the unanesthetized removal of a sharp piece of metal from deep inside a sixteen-year-old’s skull. 

Artistic depictions of Henry show both sides of his face as unharmed, however the surgery must have left a significant scar. Onstage, Henry V usually (but not always) has silky-smooth skin and Shakespeare doesn’t specifically mention a facial wound. The Netflix film The King, starring Timothée Chalamet as Henry V, gave him a tiny wishbone-shaped scar as a nod to the skull-smashing injury but, as oft this blog has shown, The King has bigger problems.

Shakespeare’s depiction of Henry V onstage has deeply shaped how we see the historical King. Even Henry’s tomb at Westminster Abbey reflects modern media. While most the King’s effigy is original and dates from around 1431, its hands are 1971 replacements modeled on Lawrence Oliver’s. Audiences are accustomed to the noble, unblemished Henry V they see onstage rather than the scarred historical figure. Shakespeare’s Henry V stands in stark contrast both to the evil, “unfinished” Richard III in the Shakespeare canon, and to his ill-faced friend Bardolph in his own plays. 

If Henry truly, as he tells Kate, “never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there,” executing Bardolph whose face “is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs” may feel uncomfortably close to strangling the self he saw in the mirror at sixteen. The boy with the broken cheek has become King, leaving behind his old friends and his old face, cutting out all infection to become the mirror of all Christian kings. I wonder what he saw. 

Writing these pocket blogs has been a joy, many thanks to Mya for her support!

by Kate Pitt

[antidotenurse]

If you had the chance to rewrite zexal what would you change abt it and what you you put more focus on?

😳 Okay well… Let’s see. I’m no writer. And admittedly, I’m not as versed in episode citing as much as other people I know. I’m just that person who, after watching something else, will come back to zexal and look at it wondering: “Why is literally nothing happening ever?” So bear in mind my lack of tact and proper vocabulary. 

I’d probably keep it more or less the same… but with a couple shifts here and there. More indulgent stuff on my end is having the Numbers Club y’know, actually DO things. And it’d be nice to have Astral and Yuma have a slight falling out and work build up trust again post-sargasso before he dies.

Most of what my brain jumps to when it comes to “stuff in zexal i’d wanna full on rewrite” revolves almost primarily around Rio and Nasch stuff since I don’t really like it’s execution in the first place. …And Tori. But Tori might likely have to be a separate discussion altogether. So, I guess I’m trying to make a more semi-realistic scenario within certain boundaries? Ex. No adding other episodes, and if something is taken away something new must be added in. And aside from one duel, duels will remain the same. 

FIRST AND FOREMOST: Rio is not killed off for a second time once she wakes up. Her being in a coma fundamentally doesn’t change her role at all as a person giving out “premonitions” whatsoever. It’s actually kind of insane. I’m not gonna go through everything just major moments. A lot and also very little goes on within episodes, I’ll just rely folk can fill in the blanks.

So for some mindfulness, from Abyss onwards, Rio is here.

SHARK VS. ABYSS and then some follow up:

Originally, this set of episodes involved Rio being possessed, and Shark fights Abyss and from there we learn about the Nasch and Merag stuff. Mostly the latter but for some reason focus is on Shark. Rio is then promptly put into a coma again and Shark wangst happens from here on out until the face-heel turn during the Astral World arc.

I’d probably make it start with… Idk. I feel like the original beginning of the episode works fine since it begins with visions being had by Rio. Blah blah, she’s confused, time to find another number. It’s in a weird spot in the middle of the ocean. For whatever reason, this area in the ocean feels really distressing for her. But, regardless, instead of a storm hitting and Rio suddenly going “missing”— as the crew tries deciphering the location, her “powers” take over and cursed by something unknown she jumps from the airship into the sea, followed by Shark who dives in after her (and yuma dives in after shark). Very dumb but the episode must start somehow. And this is likely played more seriously but I can’t help but laugh a bit at the thought.

Shark awakes in an undersea labyrinth, and somehow isn’t dead. Wtf? But hey! He found Rio nearby and she’s okay! The goal is finding the number tho, and her “powers” lead them to it. And uh oh here we go. A guardian is here to keep them from taking it. (As for Yuma, he and Astral’s sideplot about getting lost in the labyrinth is exactly the same, so dw about this)

The duel??? I said I wouldn’t change most, but this is a major exception. I’m making it Shark and Rio VS. Abyss. A two on one duel. We never once saw Rio and Shark play off each other in a duel setting when working together, and I feel like that was a prime missed opportunity. Especially for characters who just episodes prior, had this really weird one v. one duel. This needs something of a resolution. ALSO The memories here do involve both of them, so let both of them go ham.

However, since the memory flashbacks tend to tie into Merag a liiiittle more already (and the more major Nasch stuff will come later), Rio should be the first person to experience the Barian memories out of the two of them. We already got a bit of that with her visions at the start. As the duel progresses, Rio becomes more distressed by what she’s experiencing. During the duel Rio has lots of out of body experiences, on the one hand she’s present in the duel. On the other hand, she slips back into living life as Priestess Merag. But, for some reason, he doesn’t have a lot of control of herself?

But obviously, what Rio remembers is far worse since she pretty much relives her own death and can’t control her “mind.”

Meanwhile, Shark also goes through his vision onslaught, clearly thinking majority of this is some kind of manipulation tactic by Abyss. Episode more or less plays out the same minus damsel stuff. Durbe confronting Yuma and Astral still happens, Abyss being cryptic as hell still occurs and you know. Anyway, they win and get the number, and they all reappear on the deck of the airship knocked out. Everyone wakes up, it feels like a dream but they have the number?? So it couldn’t be?? Rio wakes up last though, which momentarily scares Shark.

TIME FOR REFLECTION!! Rio is fine, but clearly shaken. All those visions she saw… they meant something. Something inside her is telling her that. While Shark too is distraught and stressed by what he experienced during the duel… he doesn’t come to grips at all with it. He’s in more overt denial. In fact, he’s furious. Their lives weren’t lies?! How can she even THINK that? NONE of that was real! Also, wtf why the fuck did she jump into the ocean?! She could’ve died! Shark is emotionally overwhelmed both in potentially losing his sister again, and also the whole barian thing.

Rio isn’t on board either, but she’s always been the more “open” of the two. She’s not down for Shark’s behavior in the slightest, nor his seeming lack of empathy. Y’know? That more abrasive denial thing from Shark that feels a bit more in-line than just moping about a dead sister. Also, she literally relived dying so like. Fuck man that whole lack of empathy thing isn’t cool to her.

P.S Rio isn’t saying they’re Barians, but, maybe it’s her powers of “foresight” getting to her… something about what she saw feels too real to ignore, while the A plot goes on, she’s processing that very real possibility. This starts to cause something of a rift between otherwise close siblings.

Durbe proceeds to use this to his advantage.

[Next episodes: astral dies. Those episodes play out exactly the same except now Rio is part of the peanut gallery. The fearsome four stuff begins]

SHARK AND THOMAS VS. JELLYFISH MAN

Ok we know what happens in the original. Sort of. I’ll be honest? Haven’t seen these eps in a while. But, Shark goes to his old mansion to relive childhood memories, meanwhile coma Rio is poisoned by jelly man, and Shark also gets poisoned too. IV shows up dadada he’s sorry about the Rio thing but he never speaks to her. Things are gettin’ crazy. Something to that effect, I probably went out of order.

I think what I’d do is have Shark and Rio get into a fight about the barian stuff. Or something that really exemplifies the rift between that’s grown between them since Abyss. Either way, it leads to Shark leaving to the one place he feels he can really think — their old childhood home.

(Also Blah blah plot about strings of poisonings fucking people up is going on in the background that Yuma, Trey and Tori are focused on. Why not the numbers club?? Idk you tell me. Real zexal won’t allow that.)

Rio, in the meantime, after reflecting on what was said and done- goes to find Shark. And she knows exactly where he’d go. (Yuma, III, and Tori are present when she does this so they pursue her shortly thereafter. This is to replace the moments in the hospital)

P.S Durbe is watching all of this happen.

Shark reminisces at the mansion, and is promptly attacked by a monster and poisoned. IV shows up how he does originally and yadada duel starts.

Halfway through Rio and co. Find shark and IV dueling jellyfish man. Rio recognizes her bro is hurt, but Shark is not down for Rio or anybody else tagging in for any reason. There’s an interruptive conflict that’s super awkward for everyone involved (so maybe levity from jellyfish or IV can be put here) Yuma and co. show up at the tail end of this brief exchange.

And Rio, still riled up despite attempting to reach out, retreats into the mansion. The duel outside continues, but inside is where she encounters Durbe.

Ideally a moment would be had between Rio and Durbe similarly to a scene in a later episode with Shark and Durbe, but for the most part this will be small and not seen in full. But Durbe holds out Merag’s crest to Rio and he likely says some cryptic anime nonsense about “destiny” or something.

Because she’s been sensing “it” since the Abyss duel, and he firmly believes that she’s known the truth for a lot longer than she wants to admit.

We don’t see Rio again until the duel ends and she’s found inside the mansion. She seems, at “peace” for some reason? Something about her feels… different. Durbe is nowhere to be seen.

Insert moment here where IV and Rio actually, y’know. TALK. But things are kinda too late-ish now… cuz Rio has somebody else to deal with next.

[astral world arc begins]

Aight, while Yuma is off in Astral world dueling Eliphas and saving Astral, Durbe finally puts his final phase into motion to FINALLY convince Shark to accept who he actually is. Something he’s been fighting for a while now. And surprisingly, Rio is helping Durbe, much to Shark’s shock.

Shark at this point had been in his anguish full of regret for being pretty bitchy lately. All the fights, this barian stuff, the confusion, the fact it’s like he doesn’t even KNOW his sister anymore (and this Shark very likely doesn’t), it’s overwhelming as fuck and he’s tired.

Episode plays out normally with Durbe making Shark relive his life during his last encounter with Vector, the Iris thing, the men dying blah blah. That episode is kind of awesome to begin with, so borderline nothing changes here.

The the difference mostly being that the setup is a bit more concrete. Instead of Rio kinda just, being dead and a spirit “guide” to help Shark’s wangst and immediately following his face-heel turn with no insight on how she felt, we’ve been experiencing how she feels for a while and been seeing how it affects her and Shark’s relationship for a while.

It’s eventually mentioned that Durbe showed Rio these memories back at the mansion. Because showing somebody their twins terrible life after you died definitely isn’t horrifying!! Anyway, Rio came to accept the truth… because, like Durbe said before, she’s “always” known.

HOW? Because it turns out Rio’s powers of foresight she’s been experiencing throughout the series were her memories of being Merag trying really really hard to get out this whole time. That’s why she acts differently in those sudden moments. That’s how Rio knows these she couldn’t possibly know.

Rio being present as a “spirit” is there to help guide Shark through this experience, because he’s always been doing things alone for her. Time she returned the favor.

Everything plays out pretty much exactly the same, after all that anguish and reliving trauma where his army dies and Iris dies- Shark FINALLY accepts the truth about himself being Nasch. He and Rio switch sides together (because they weren’t going to do it alone).

Nasch and Merag take their spots in Barian World, and stuff proceeds to play out as normal. Sort of.

None of this is really all that great, but it’s a start? Again, I’m not a writer and a lot of this would realistically be overshadowed by the scheduled duels that play out, the A plot with Yuma, and generally be a lot more condensed due to the limited amount of episodes left. All this to say that there’s more ways than “dead sister” to make something happen. I dunno these are all minor shifts and my vocabulary is hyperbolic. 

[nade2308]

For the whump Drabble could you do 26 with Mac? No pressure though! ❤️

Thank you for this ask, anon. Here’s the story. Hope you like this. The drabble kinda... derailed. As it is always with me. More under the cut 

Mac jerked away from the hand that was shaking his shoulder and immediately backed up to the corner of the bed. Someone was talking in a low voice, but Mac was still a bit disoriented and couldn't place the voice. Or the words. 

He tried to clear his mind from the fog he could feel his brain swim through. It was a feeling he was very familiar with, thanks to being prone to accidents and injuries. He was on heavy duty painkillers. 

He closed his eyes and blinked several times until his eyes adjusted and he saw Jack. Jack who was worried and stressed the hell out, Mac could see that much even drugged to the gills. Jack, whose hand was suspended in the air, not knowing if he could touch, but not sure if he could let it rest. 

Mac whimpered and Jack's response was to crawl in the bed and pull Mac in an embrace. 

This time Mac didn't flinch. 

…

When Mac opened his eyes next, Jack wasn't in his bed, but his bed was warm so Mac came to the conclusion Jack was close around. 

And Mac needed to pee. 

Looking at his right hand that was heavily bandaged and with a brace on the wrist, Mac was reminded of what happened yesterday. How close they came to be blown up. All because Mac got the drop on him and was held at gunpoint as he tried to disarm the bomb. The moment his hand was forcefully pulled behind his back and he felt the pain as it was sprained. And then the bastard stepped on it. 

Mac could hear his own screams in his head as his hand cracked underneath the guy's heavy boot. And then it was a blur in Jack getting the goon off of him and grabbing Mac and dragging him outside, with seconds to spare before the warehouse went up in flames. 

Mac sighed. It was his right hand. 

His bladder was persistent and Mac decided he'd go and find Jack after he relieved himself. It was with that thought that he opened the door to the bathroom, pushing the IV stand with him. It was a good thing he had that pole to keep him from toppling over. 

The sight that greeted him was that of Jack hunched over the toilet bowl, breathing heavily, holding the porcelain edge with white-knuckled grip. His head was angled a bit, but Mac was able to see the blood trickling down Jack's lip. 

“Jack?” 

His partner recoiled as if burned and if Mac wasn't holding on to the IV stand, he would have for sure gone to his knees on the tiled floor. His partner looked like someone ran him over. Deep bruises under his eyes, and one that wasn't from exhaustion and lack of sleep on Jack's right cheek. His hair was askew like he spent running his fingers through it. 

“Jack, you okay?” 

“Yeah… something didn't sit well with me.”

As if on cue, Jack's stomach rumbled and Jack pulled himself to his feet. He flushed the toilet and then went up with cleaning himself. Mac had the feeling Jack wasn't tracking so well. 

They made quite the pair. 

Mac watched as Jack moved gingerly back towards the room. 

After Mac was done, he splashed some water on his face. Looking up at his own reflection, he could see he wasn't faring any better than Jack, sans bruise on the cheek and split lip. 

He returned to the room where Jack sat on the bed, too stiff and like he was expecting Mac to banish him from the room. 

Mac couldn't pinpoint what was tickling the back of his mind about punishments and someone screaming, but he pushed back against those thoughts. He needed to talk with Jack because his friend was apparently upset. 

They were interrupted by his father that just barged in without even asking if it was okay to get inside his room. The moment Mac saw Jack flinch, he knew whatever was going on with Jack was his father's doing. 

…

Looked like Mac didn't make the screams up and that they were real. It hurt to listen to Jack tell him about James screaming at them and having to be escorted by security because he was upsetting patients. There was something more to the thing that Jack wasn't telling him. But now that Mac had his father to consider in the equation, he made an estimated guess. 

Jack would joke about Mac developing his own superpowers and reading minds, but it wasn't a superpower really. Mac knew his father well, sadly, and knew what a guilt trip he could send you on. Looked like he privately did that to Jack and after some wrangling, Mac managed to get the story out of Jack. 

(Some nodding and humming here and there as Mac continued guessing). 

“You couldn't have done anything other than what you did Jack. It was a dire situation.” 

Mac looked at his bandaged hand. It was his right one and it hurt. It'd be hell on him to do things on his own with his non-dominant hand. He was well versed in using both hands, but the dominant one was always the one he used by default. 

Oh well, not his first rodeo as Jack would say. 

“I was too focused to clean the bottom floor that it didn't occur to me that there might be someone else out there. You got hurt, Mac.”

“I know. But it wasn't your fault. Got it?” 

“I'm supposed to watch your back, kid.”

“You do. You watch my back even when we are off the clock. And I got yours, too.” 

Mac tried to reassure Jack, and tell him everything with his eyes and the words he couldn't speak up just yet. 

It wasn't Jack that needed the lesson and reassurance. Jack was the best partner Mac could ask for. 

… 

In hindsight Jack should have known. He should have seen it in the way Mac was watching him and the questions he asked and the assumptions he made, and that were the truth. He should have known that Mac would go to James to hash it out. 

And Jack was legitimately scared about what that'd entail for his partner. Jack didn't yell back or quipp at James, he didn't want to lose his job over something like that. The fear ran deep. He didn't know what James would do, how far would he go if Jack was out of the picture. He may claim he made it possible for Jack to be Mac's Overwatch, but Jack made his own decision to stay. And Jack didn't want to jeopardize that. 

He moved gingerly out of Mac's empty room. His partner had detached the IV and Jack looked at it, most of today's meds in the bag, still. 

When Mac told him he had Jack's back, he didn't think Mac would go head to head with Oversight. 

Jack swiped a hand over his tired face. This kid wanted to kill him before his time. 

Jack texted Matty to let her know about Mac before he went straight to James' office. And just as he rounded the corner, he heard voices. They were yelling and Jack had to stop when he heard James scream at Mac. 

About how Jack was incompetent and let him get hurt. How he hoped that Jack would keep him safe, but Jack disappointed him. Then James moved on to the topic of Mac being unable to disarm the bomb and the sheer disappointment and disgust in his voice was enough for Jack to say fuck it, and barged in.

“You really want to be arguing about that? He wasn't able to do it and that should be enough.” 

“Dalton…” 

“What? He was held at gunpoint, and his hand got stomped on, Jim. Unless he had inhuman ability to heal or even recover from the pain quickly, there was no way-”

“You could have stopped it. While you were there. But you didn't. So his failing is directly connected to yours.” 

James looked at him with such a conviction in his voice and he looked so angry and ready for a fight… Jack's fist was itching to connect with James' face and then he looked away. The intensity with which James' eyes were burning with rage was too much. He didn't want to do something that would lead to him getting fired. And punching Mac's old man would be weird to explain because they all just… didn't acknowledge the fact that James was too controlling. Jack didn't want to be the one to get punched so to speak. Mac would come to him if he needed Jack. And James wasn't wrong. If he was careful, Mac wouldn't be in a world of pain and the bomb wouldn't go off. 

“He is not the one that got the bad intel, though.” Mac's voice cut through the fog in Jack's head. 

“What?” 

“The Intel came through you. You said the building was empty. We went there with the information that we were evacuating an office building and not the fact that the building was already evacuated and the bad guys had set camp there.” 

“You are in too much pain, son. Under the influence of strong meds and you have no idea what you talk about.” 

“I am a trained EOD specialist. I know when a bomb is planted there to destroy and when it's there because they were working on it just then. If they wanted to blow up the place, they would have with the people working there. While they were still working. 

“They emptied the building because the homb wasn't for them.”

“It was for us.” the realization slammed into Jack and he had to use the door because suddenly he was feeling lightheaded. 

“Yes, Jack, it was for us. We were set up. No matter what you or I did, they did it to take us out. We were low on chances before we even stepped inside. It's not your fault. Or mine, for that matter.” the kid turned to his father this time. “And the next time you blame Jack for your oversight, pun intended by the way, you'll deal with me.” 

“Angus…” 

“I am not here to play games and take your shit. Neither is Jack. If you want me to stick around this time, you will have to do better. Oh and before you say that, and I know what you are going to say, Jack didn't tell me I figured it out myself. Come on, Jack. We are going.” 

Jack was still stunned, but let Mac lead him out of the office and back to Medical. 

“You shouldn't have done that.” Jack found himself whispering. “I don't want you to get into trouble with him.” 

“Jack, the only one that will get in trouble is him. With Matty. You don't have to worry about it.” 

“But, I-” 

“Not your fault, Jack. Besides, you saved me. My hand will be okay, and I am not blown up. I count that as a blessing.” 

“Of course, kid. Always.” 

“Now let's find a nurse to help me with the IV.” 

“Just how much in pain are you? You asking for an IV…” 

“It hurts. But don't worry about it. We said no worrying.” 

“Once you get your mini-mes running around or you take some under your wing, I'll remind you of this then.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

Jack chuckled and followed Mac to his room. There was pain etched in his features. But he was alive and well. It was all that Jack could ask for.

[dontrollthedicesideblog]

if you dont mind me asking, why do people ship spifey and tapL? it seems cute and all, but are there some interactions or collabs ive missed because i dont know how the ship actually started ( or maybe just, why do you ship it?)

oh dear anon, you have no idea what kind of pandoras box youve just unleashed on the world. and ofc i dont mind you asking! ive wanted to talk about this for a while <3

if u wanna hear my spifL ramblings, click read more bc i dont wanna clog up everyones feeds:

1. starting off with the thing that got me interested at first: roommates. Spifey, TapL, and Skeppy were roommates for like three months in LA from I think December to February? Or January to March. It’s not a secret that a lot of people love the dynamic of roommates in ships, and it so happened that skephalo has always been super popular, leaving Spifey and TapL as the obvious roommates to ship.

2. height difference. My numbers may be wrong but apparently Spifey’s like 6′2 and TapL’s like 5′6? I’m sure those aren’t the accurate numbers, but it’s pretty clear there’s a big height difference between them and I just thought it was kinda cute!

2.5. On that note, the general size difference between them. This is most apparent when you look at their hands. I’m not gonna go out and actively look for them for this post bc that feels a lil weird to me, but Spifey’s done a handcam for a video and TapL’s shown his hands both on Twitter when he shows off his nails and on YouTube in his 100 burgers video. I wouldn’t call TapL’s hands small by any means, but I’d say it’s clear Spifey’s hands are bigger than his. And like, one of the staples of fandom is smaller person and Tall Person.

3. Then you get into the kind of content they make. Spifey’s main content is using mods and other packs to confuse the hell out of his friends. TapL’s main content is hosting different UHC scenarios. While they don’t seem similar on the surface at all, both are the kind of content creators that need to keep innovating for their stuff to land to an audience, the kind whose creativity is vital to the success of their channels. I’m aware that the creativity aspect applies to other creators as well, but this only plays a small part in why I ship it. They’re both immensely creative people who I think would benefit from hanging around each other and feeding each others’ creativity.

4. They have a lot of history, though not too much is really public since TapL doesn’t do collabs with people outside the PvP sphere very often. They both appear in Skeppy’s 2018 vidcon vlog, so they had to have known each other for at least two years. But they seem close in the video, so tack on another half a year or so and they’ve been friends for a long time.

5. And their dynamic. The ship has a softer, quieter sort of dynamic than a lot of the Big Ships. TapL and Spifey are both on the quieter side of their friend groups (though I hesitate to say they’re quiet because really, they’re not) and tend to be more quietly chaotic than they are overtly (see: all of Spifey’s videos with Zelk and Vurb in them and that one time TapL leashed a fox on the Idots SMP and called it Fundy and actually treated it well compared to how the Idots treated their pets in the game). I think that makes for a really interesting dynamic where they both know how to have fun and laugh with each other, but they also have just as many moments of quiet between them where they’re just enjoying each others’ company. It’s the sort of dynamic where they can either join the chaos others are creating (and their friend group certainly creates a whole lot of chaos) or they can sit back and watch them fight while snickering to each other. Variety of possibilities!

5.5. That being said, TapL is definitely the more loudly chaotic and confrontational of the two of them. Spifey laughs a lot while being chaotic and he doesn’t usually raise his voice unless he needs to. On the other hand, TapL COMMITS to the bit and is quicker to yell (see: that one time Zelk tried to make ZapL a thing). I just think the dynamic of one (1) man trying to rein in his stupid boyfriend’s chaos while still remaining generally supportive is a funny one to imagine.

5.75. As another note on their dynamic, TapL is one to catch onto the bit very quickly while adding his own flavor of humor to the whole situation, and Spifey’s the one to create the bit in the first place. Those sorts of personalities mesh well together. You can’t have a bit if there’s no one to escalate it, and you can’t escalate a bit if there’s no bit to escalate in the first place. (see: that one stream where Spifey started eating a banana sideways and TapL saw him so he decided to take a banana and eat it sideways. Additionally, their collab on Spifey’s channel)

6. this is really stupid but they both also have nicknames? Like, people call TapL Harv and they call Spifey Geo and i just thought that was pretty neat.

7. They’re literally so supportive of each other and it’s so clear they respect each other so much and they’re such great friends i just... ANONNNNNN IVE SPENT TWO HOURS ON THIS POST I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH ;-; heres some interactions to make up for my lack of words

“BRITISH PEOPLE ARE NOT REAL” “3 months in la - i was merely an illusion” “You were nothing more than a bunch of mirrors and reflections”

“hey, thanks for existing ❤️“ “anytime ❤️ i miss la”

[picture of a spider on Spifey’s face] “UK spiders be like: “Roight, wots ol this then ?”

“@spifeyy happy birthday 🎉🎉🎉“ “<3″ (i would also like to note that TapL posted the birthday tweet just a bit after it hit midnight BST, not in his time zone)

Spifey’s perspective on vidcon 2018 

the skittles thing on spifey’s vlog channel (tapL shows up near the end)

And also they teaming for MCU along with Vurb and Finn!!!!

anyone, feel free to add onto this! and once again, thank u for the question, anon <3

[cordoniantrash]

Verdant Heart

Soooo… here’s the jealous!Savannah fic that I’ve tried my hand at. It was originally supposed to be just three parts where it shows instances of Savannah’s jealous moments over the years but I ended up with five parts that’s mostly written stream of consciousness style. Oops. 

Apologies for the purple patches in this. Also tried to put some symbolism here and there (which in hindsight is quite on the nose). no beta we die like men

Special thanks to the anon who sent that really sweet message! Grammatical mistakes are mine and do let me know what you guys think.

Title is from a quote by Russell Page, taken a bit out of context to fit the fic. Here’s the link to the thread that inspired this.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, Pixleberry has that privilege

Pairing: Bertrand x Savannah (I’m so sorry!), mentioned Liam x MC and a hint sentence of Drake x MC

Warning: mention of death

Words: 2382

I

Her clearest early memory was this: there was a ball, and the entire Walker family was invited. Savannah saw it as her first true ball. It wasn’t like the others where she and the other children (and the princes) were allowed in the ballroom for a little while and then ushered into a sitting room while the adults stayed in the grand ballroom and enjoyed the party. Savannah was actually dressed in a gown, a pretty little thing, forest green with skirts that swished when she twirled. She remembered that their parents allowed them to stay past their bedtimes ( “Just this once,” her father said), and little Savannah was determined to make the most of it. 

When the opportunity presented itself, she wandered off from the adults and found some of her friends, children of the staff in the palace, while her brother took off to go hang out with Prince Liam. On the other side of the room, near the thrones, she could see some noble’s children in their own little circles, fashionably dressed, almost doll-like in their perfection. 

The purpose of the event was lost to little Savannah. Looking back she remembered admiring the way the light danced on the floor of the grand ballroom, the tinkling of both glass and laughter, the way the skirt of the ladies’ gowns would sway and shimmer as they moved and glided across the floor. In a child’s mind, it was as though all her favorite fairy-tales have come to life and gathered at her home. 

As she gazed across the room, she saw the queen being surrounded by noblewomen, all fawning over her dress, her hair, her emerald jewels. She saw how the king would now and then look over and gaze at his wife with something that Savannah decided was love. 

It was there and then that she became acquainted with yearning, and in the years that followed, it became her constant shadow. Her friend. 

II

She tried to fit in, become a tree amongst the forest. She would be beautiful as myrtle, beloved as apple, graceful as jasmine flowers. Savannah dreamed of being loved and adored like every noble lady in the court. She tried to talk like them, act like them, be like them. So she would go on and pour herself into mint green dresses, drape jade across her throat and wrists, weave laurel colored ribbons in her hair. All the while telling herself that this will let her become like them. She clung to the idea of nobility like ivy, while her brother had begun to try to free himself from its clutches.

Yet it wasn’t enough. Her clothes were just a season too late, her manners lacking, her posture forever slipping. Her jewels did not shine, her dress dull, her charm lacking. Faced with all these, Savannah still tried and pushed, happy to be granted even a scrap of thought.

In her quest to be accepted, she had begun to develop a crush on the second prince (or was it the other way ‘round? She couldn’t quite recall). How could she not have a crush on him? Prince Liam was handsome and smart. He embodied sophistication for Savannah, and he always knew the right thing to say. A smile from him would have her feeling butterflies in her stomach.

Her brother knew of her little crush, of course. Savannah pleaded and cajoled her brother, promising him weeks-worth of chores and her best puppy-dog eyes for him to never mention it to Prince Liam. This did not stop him from teasing her every time they see the Princes. He would smirk, nudge her and loudly whisper:

“Look who it is Sav!”

“D’you wanna say hi?”

“Look, Sav! He might be looking your way!”

The embarrassment was excruciating. That did not curb her crush. 

It was him or nothing, really. He was the closest to her age (Maxwell does not count because he’s become something like a brother). Yes, she would giggle and swoon over the Crown Prince like the other palace girls (again, how could they not? Prince Leo was temptation incarnate) but she would always take fierce pride in the fact that while her friends gossip and play coy with the older brother, she was secure in the younger. In her daydreams, Prince Liam would woo her, would never embarrass her like Drake. He would be like the Princes in the fairy tales she loved. 

Savannah had it all planned out. She would always be with them in their escapades (well, along with Lady Olivia) and one day the Prince would notice and then, like the princess and the damsels in her stories, she too would have her happily ever after. She’d be accepted then. She would be enough.

Her plans were delayed when Savannah went with her family to their ranch in Texas for the second time. There she met Chuck and her plans and daydreams were put on indefinite hold.

She came back from that summer refreshed and feeling like a new person. She had bloomed into a woman that summer (or so she told herself), and when she went back to Cordonia, she felt ready to face the world. She’s not Drake’s younger sister anymore. She won’t be. She’ll be known as Savannah Walker and she’ll make her mark upon the world.

This newfound perspective, her new world, was shattered by a late-night phone call and a bullet wound. 

III

This is how she started seeing – truly seeing – him. It was her father’s funeral, and she was standing beside her brother, both of them staring at the casket. The Princes and the Brothers Beaumont stood beside the Walkers, (who were now thrust into the spotlight) as a show of solidarity. For once in Savannah’s life, she could find pleasure in being the center of attention. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the earth and let it swallow her so she may be with her father again. She’ll gladly disappear if it meant that her Dad would return to them.

She sniffled, her head bent, silently cursing herself for appearing less than strong in front of her father. In front of her family, in front of the court. At the corner of her eye, she could see the boys. For once they were standing behind Drake, all of them appearing blurry through her tears. Someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned her head and saw a handkerchief, black and perfectly folded. She raised her head and met the eyes of one Bertrand Beaumont. 

In the months and years that followed, Savannah learned that Bertrand was nothing like the Prince. Both of them were charming. Both of them, the epitome of courtly life, but while Prince Liam was born into it, at ease with all the protocols and the tradition, Bertrand upheld it with every fiber of his being. He lived it and pushed it into new heights. He radiated glamour and Savannah was more than happy to soak in it and bask in its glow, however, reflected it may be.

He was real and somehow all that she ever needed. Throughout their whole story, she began to feel accepted. Funny, she had thought, how one person could make her feel what dozen of noble ladies could not.

Savannah then came into a realization. Prince Liam was blue; he was deep seas and untouchable skies. He would always unknowingly have her childhood’s heart, but now he was hazy. Dreamlike. Like the memories she’ll always hold dear. Bertrand, in his brown suits, his patterned sweater vests, and dry wit was the opposite. He was steady, dependable. Real. An actual shelter, a true home, and like a fool she had given him her all.

Bertrand had opened the door into the life that she had yearned for. Bertrand was also the one to close it. The closest thing she had ever come to hating the nobility was after Bertrand told her they can never be together. That he still has to marry a noblewoman. After all this time she wasn’t enough. The baby wasn’t enough. They weren’t enough.

What’s worse is that in the eyes of the court she’ll be ruined. She’ll be like any other scandal. They don’t have to know, a voice whispered in her head as she agonized over what to do, dear, sweet Maxwell found her crying on the steps of the Beaumont estate and offered to help. She had accepted it, what else can she do?

She took some lessons from Kiara, noticing the way the Lady looked at her brother and shamefully taking advantage of it. She packed her bags before anyone could talk her out of it and moved to Paris. There she stayed and gave birth; cushioned by Maxwell’s kindness (and pity, she added in her head) until her brother found her appartement with an American in tow. 

IV

Her old friend, yearning came back, this time with company. Lady Cassandra was beautiful. What’s more was that she was magnetic, even when dressed casually. Savannah had seen her pictures from the tabloids and heard Maxwell’s stories, but nothing prepared her for the force of nature that was Cassandra.

“She’s really something else,” Maxwell had said. Savannah had chuckled and changed the subject.

Now that they’re face to face, Savannah can see it. She also saw how her brother would orbit around the woman. She had already endured Maxwell’s gushing about his new bosom buddy, his new sister, and knew with a heavy heart that Cassandra was head over heels with Liam. Savannah wonders how her brother can cope with that weighing him down while also quelling the envy that reared its ugly head. She refused to look into it for too long.

But despite her efforts, she still felt jealous. She wanted to scream. They were hers first. Her family, her brothers, her childhood prince. After she meets Cassandra, she began to compare herself to the American. She’d look in a mirror and let yearning and envy consume her thoughts.

With Lady Cassandra came other surprises. Bertrand came into her life again and began to build them back together once more. Brick by brick, lovingly (and awkwardly) place one after the other.

Savannah could have stayed in Paris, raised Bartie in the City of Love, and let Cordonia go. But the call of home, of Drake and Maxwell, of family (of Bertrand, her mind supplied) grew stronger every day. Maybe she had thought, maybe it’s time to grow roots. 

She came back, and the court was somehow changed yet still the same and Savannah occupied her old role: an outsider observer looking outside in. Once in awhile, she’d look again at a mirror and think. She used to dream of fitting in, of being the princess, being Snow White: Fairest of them all. Of having and commanding the adoration of people around her and lavish parties thrown in her honor. What she got instead was isolation in an apartment in Paris, a baby (the light of her life) out of wedlock and a relationship that was barely staying afloat while a complete stranger got the chance to achieve all her dreams and fancies.

It was not as if Cassandra was cruel to her. Or indifferent. She was always looking out for them, helping Bertrand communicate with her. Savannah was grateful, immensely so, but she can’t help but listen to a tiny voice in her head saying that the American turned Duchess was doing it mainly for Bertrand.

So despite her best efforts, she would still cast subtle glances, admiring and jealous at equal measure. Comparing and aspiring, a never-ending cycle. She thought she’d be free of that once she came back. She was wrong.

Savannah tried not to let jealousy get the best of her during Cassandra’s wedding. The event hasn’t even started yet the masses are already calling it the wedding of the century. Then Bertrand and the bridal party were attacked and Savannah is too worried to dwell on the wedding itself, that is until she saw the future queen of Cordonia being given away by Bertrand. Pride and something ugly she’d rather not dwell on swelled in her chest. Of course, the modern-day Cinderella would have her fairy tale wedding while Savannah – ordinary, commoner Savannah – can’t even have a straight conversation with the father of her child and the love of her life. 

This cocktail of emotions stayed with her until the wonder of all wonders happened: Bertrand stepped up and gave Savannah her most desired fairy-tale proposal. With the new queen’s help of course (but Savannah was too ecstatic to dwell on that).

Savannah felt bad about it afterward, especially in the wake of the kidnapping, but after the dust settled those emotions came back, embraced and nurtured by her old friends: yearning and envy.  

V

Now in her family’s ranch, with a mother who was trying her best and an aunt with understanding in her eyes, Savannah’s old friends dog her steps once again, but never for the same reasons: she yearns to have what Liam and Cassandra have, that ease that they exclude around each other, so different from the look that Constantine gave Eleanor all those years ago, but no less intense. No less loving.

She wonders if Bertrand would ever be as upfront about his affections like the royal couple are with theirs.

She envies that they seem to have everything they’ll ever need while her love struggles with their finances.

So Savannah can’t help but cast her little side-eyes, speak her little quips. Shape her wedding to the image of her parents instead of the courtly one that she had been dreaming of.

Savannah admires and envies Cassandra at the same time. Here was the woman who had achieved all of Savannah’s dreams and then some. And while Savannah would not trade Bertrand and Bartie for anything, a vicious little voice in her head would always find herself lacking and Savannah is growing tired of it. 

She longs to put down roots, to be steady as oak, long-lasting as a redwood. A shelter. A part of the forest.

Savannah chases contentment with yearning and envy at her side, wondering all the while why it eludes her. 

Tagging: @thecordoniandiaries, @kingliamsbitch, @badchoicesposts, @heauxplesslydevoted, @dcbbw, @janezillow 

Its a one-shot but if you guys want to be tagged let me know 😁

[marvelousmarvelimagines]

The Longest Attempt at a Proposal Ever (Part V of VI) (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV) 

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary - Steve Rogers is a workaholic. For the past two years of dating him, you’ve known this, but now that the world has finally come to a sort of peace, you think it’s past time that he took a vacation. Little do you know that he has something else in mind for this trip.

Word Count - 3,893

Warnings - We’ve got smut folks! Unprotected Sex. 18+ only. 

Turned out Steve managed to get you to do some running this week after all. There was running to the shopping center, running from store to store, and then running to the car because the two of you had assumed the rain would stop by the time you had gotten finished shopping. It hadn’t. Then there was even more running as you both had to make the long trek from your driveway to the cottage. 

Needless to say, by the time you made it inside, you were both dripping water all over the floor. Steve’s clothes clung to him uncomfortable and wet, his shoes making a squishing noise with every step that he took. You? The dress you wore was tight against every bit of your body. Every curve, every muscle, was put on display for him while you shook your hair out. Droplets from it reached him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when you looked so beautiful. 

He was sure that you could feel his eyes on you. In the mirror displayed on the wall beside the two of you, he could see you biting your lip the way you always did when you felt like you were getting affection you didn’t deserve. “Well . . . This was a great ending to my birthday.” 

Steve couldn’t resist touching you any more. He slipped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, watching the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. Nat had always told him that the two of you made a cute couple, but Steve had never been able to see what she was referring to until this moment. The way you leaned into his arms as if you belonged there, the relaxed posture as he caved into you as well . . . It was if your two bodies were made to be near each other and know what the other wanted. Steve kissed your cheek, letting his lips linger there as he tasted the rain against your skin. “Is that the end of your birthday?” 

Curiosity coloring your features, you raised an eyebrow at him. “As far as I know . . . Is it?” 

He grinned, his lips still touching your cheek and tightened his grip around you. “Are you gonna be mad if I say no?” 

You turned around in his arms, slipped yours around his neck, and your lips formed an adorable pout. “Steve . . . I told you not to buy anything ridiculous. You coming with me was enough! Besides, I know what SHIELD pays, and it’s not great -” 

“It’s not ridiculous, I promise.” Steve replied. 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Okay, on a scale of Bucky’s bag of bird seed he gave Sam for Christmas to Tony’s room full of roses he bought when he pissed Pepper off, where does it fall?” 

“Somewhere in the middle?” Steve replied. He shrugged his shoulders and gave you a quick peck. “I’ll be right back.” 

By the time that he had returned, you were sat on the counter in the kitchen. You stared out the window with a content smile on your face and wrung out your dress in the sink. He handed you the present and wrapped a towel he had grabbed on the way out around your shoulders. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, while you took it from him and unwrapped it with careful fingers. He watched your face, and waited for your reaction. He actually found himself a little nervous. He was pretty sure that you were going to like it, but now that you were opening it . . . 

All those worries were washed away as soon as you let out a gasp and looked up with wide eyes for a moment before looking back down. “Did you -?” 

Steve nodded as he brushed some of your wet hair behind your ears. “It’s from the first day. I had something else in there, but I liked that better. Is it okay?” He asked. He bit his bottom lip, unable to take his eyes off your face. 

“Okay?” You looked back up at him, and Steve was surprised to see your eyes wet, and not from the rain they had ran from. “Is this how you see me? Is this what I look like to you?” 

Those words made him even more nervous. What did you mean is that how he saw you? That’s how everyone saw you. That’s how you looked. “Yes . . . Did I do something wrong? Did I mess something up?” 

You shook your head, and reached up to cup his cheek. “No, Steve, not at all. It’s just . . . I look gorgeous.” 

“That’s because you are. Gorgeous I mean. Most beautiful dame I’ve ever seen in my hundred years. I was on ice for seventy years of it, but still.” Steve replied, one corner of his lips turned up in an embarrassed smile. 

Your thumb brushed across his lips, a gentle caress that eased his anxiety. “And the words? ‘Seeing your beautiful heart is like staring into the sun, and I will gladly go blind, for I cannot look away’?” You spread your legs so he could step between them. You held the framed drawing and poem close to your chest. “Do you mean those too?” 

“I didn’t write those, John Mark Green did, but I thought they fit.” He watched as you looked back down at the present, traced it with your fingertips in such a delicate way, Steve thought you must have been afraid it would shatter. 

You laughed, folded the frame back to close. “That’s the most beautiful present I’ve ever been given.” You placed your present beside you on the counter and grabbed his wet shirt so you could tug him even closer. 

Steve couldn’t say that he minded. Your body was cold, but it felt amazing against his own often overheated one. He wanted to touch you, and his hands gripped your thighs, stroked the smooth, but wet skin with his thumbs. “You must have been given some lousy gifts then,” He said, but his grin turned to a full fledged smile, pleased with your words. 

“You’re settling yourself short, Rogers. It’s amazing and thoughtful and . . . yeah I don’t know how you’re ever going to top that.” You replied, while your hands slipped to the back of his head and began massaging it. 

A slight groan left his lips at your actions. It was one of his weaknesses that you knew about, but he loved having your hands in his hair, tugging, massaging, or playing with it, the motion always put him at ease. He leaned forward, and pressed his forehead against yours to let your fingers have better access. “I’ll think of something.” 

“I’m sure you will.” You replied, nudging your nose against his and tilted your head enough so your lips could meet in a kiss. Like always, Steve could hear your heartbeat increase, feel it against his own chest, just like his. It almost felt like he was in a fight, the way the adrenaline pumped through his veins, but the way the soft skin leaned towards him and not away, reminded him otherwise. Another groan left his throat as you pulled away to nip at his bottom lip, still able to taste the chocolate you had for dessert. He dug his fingers into your thighs, as he used them to pull you even closer, and met your lips again, more desperate for the taste of you. 

Then he felt your body shiver underneath him. He smiled against your lips as he pulled away, and lingered for a moment before speaking. “We should get some warm clothes on.” 

When you opened your eyes, they were dilated, a slight glazed look to them as you looked up at him under your lashes. “You wanna help me with that?” You asked, as you bit your bottom lip. 

“Yes, Ma’am, I do.” Steve replied while he slipped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up into the air. 

As soon as your arms were around his neck, you both met in another kiss, this one harder than before, but filled with the affection the both of you were feeling for each other. You unbuttoned his shirt with practiced fingers while his hands found the zipper of your dress, and tugged it down slowly. Once the two of you reached the bedroom, Steve put you back on your feet. 

He always loved how your skin felt under his fingers. You shivered at every touch, but always leaned into it as if his fingers were a magnet to you. He tugged the wet fabric from your shoulders down the rest of your body, and smiled as you stepped closer to him for warmth. “Do you want me to get your robe?” He asked and hoped you would say no. 

Almost as if you heard his thoughts, you shook your head, an affectionate smile on your face. “No, I think I’ll use something else to keep me warm.” You told him, and pushed the unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders to the floor. “After all, you did give me the most amazing present ever. I’d like to show my appreciation. For everything you’ve done for me this week. I’ve only caught you checking up on the others three times.” You teased, as your fingers moved on to his pants. 

It was way more than three times, but he wasn’t about to deny it, “and you were right. Everything’s been fine.” Even though your hands were cold, they left a trail of fire in their wake as they traveled across his chest. Steve hadn’t had a lot of experience with sex before he met you. While, yes, he was a man and had urges every once in a while, it had never been with someone he cared about, and therefore, he hadn’t realized how good it could be. With you, it was different. Not only was the physical part of it amazing, but the way you made him feel was too. You trusted him. You trusted him with everything that you had, including your body. If he needed to be a little rougher because of a failed mission, you encouraged it, if he needed something softer, you were more than willing to take control and make him feel loved. It had gotten to the point in your relationship where he didn’t even have to ask. You just anticipated his needs and met them without hesitation. Your intuition was something he loved about you, because he often had a difficult time voicing what he wanted or needed, but you always seemed to know.

Tonight was not going to be about him though. It was your night, and he was going to do everything he could to show you how much he loved you. 

He leaned down and buried his face in your neck. His lips left gentle kisses against your skin while his fingers unsnapped your bra, pulled it loose from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He could hear the falter in your breath as his fingers found your underwear, and he dropped to his knees before you. If he hadn’t heard it earlier, he definitely heard how breathless you were now as you spoke. “Steve, baby, you don’t have to -”

He quieted you with an open mouthed kiss right above your waistline. Your protests forgotten, Steve groaned as your hands found his hair again, and a whimper left your lips at his actions. His thumbs hooked into the legs of your underwear, while he pulled them down at an agonizing pace as his lips brushed against every inch of skin they passed. By the time he had made his way up the other leg, you squirmed at his touch. 

When he stopped right below where he knew you wanted him, you let out a little whine. Steve looked up, amazed by the sight above him. It was one that he had committed to memory, but he never got tired of seeing. Your breasts heaved and your head tilted back with your eyes closed, enjoying every sensation that he gave you. His hands slid up your thighs to grip them, as he pulled your legs apart enough so that he could place his head between them. Once again, your breath staggered as his nose slipped between your folds followed by his tongue. “Mhmm, Steve,” he could hear you moan. 

He loved doing this to you. It wasn’t something that he had known much about at first because back when he had been growing up, sex wasn’t something that was talked about. Times were very different now, and this was something he had learned you enjoyed a lot. Which of course made him enjoy it too. He loved feeling how wet you were for him and how much you wanted him. He loved the way you tasted on his tongue and the way you lost control when he slipped his fingers inside you. His mouth found your clit, and he took it in his mouth. His fingers scissored inside of you to open you up for him while his mouth sucked hard on the sensitive area. Steve had to hold on tight to your thighs to keep you from falling over as he explored you fully and lapped up everything you gave him with a groan of his own. 

“Steve, I - I’m close,” he heard you say, muffled with your thighs pressed against the side of his head. He could feel how close you were, your body shook as you chased your high and Steve’s tongue pressed against your clit. 

That was all it took, your hands clenched into fists in his hair as you fell apart. He continued to work you through it, his eyes glued to you above him, and he watched your chest rise up and down with your heavy breathing. His cock was rock hard by the time you tugged him up to meet his lips in a messy kiss, and you moaned when you tasted yourself on him. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” You mumbled against his lips. 

“Every once in a while,” Steve teased as he gripped your thighs, and lifted you into the air once more to carry you over to the bed. He laid you on it as if you were a precious valuable he had been charged to keep safe before he finished taking off the pants you had started to. He kept his gaze on you as your eyes followed every move that he made, and warmth filled his chest at the look you gave him. Yes, your eyes were blown black with lust, but there was such affection in them as well. You looked at him like he hung the world. It wasn’t the same look he got when he saved people’s lives. While that was amazing as well, this was much more. 

He climbed onto the bed, watching your squirm as he kissed certain bits of skin that he knew were sensitive and stopped to nip at them until he reached your lips. “Then I don’t do it enough.” You replied, your arms wound around his neck. He felt your nails scratch a slow line up his neck and had to fight back a shiver, “and I’m not just saying that because you’re really good at that.” You added as if it was an afterthought. 

Using one forearm to hold his weight above you, he used his other hand to grip your thigh and bring it up around his hip. You gasped at the sensation, and your hips rolled almost immediately while nails dug deeper into his skin. That caused a groan to leave his lips as he pressed into you harder. “You don’t have to say it all the time.” Steve said, his lips a breath away from yours with a soft smile. “I know.” With those words, he lined up and slipped inside of your wet heat at an agonizing pace, so he could make sure that you had time to get used to him.

His name left your lips in a moan, and the sound made him want to thrust into you again, but he knew the best way was to be patient. It would be so much better for both of you in the end if he did. Once he was fully inside of you, he paused, taking the moment to bury his face in your neck and inhale your scent. The way the rain mixed with your perfume rushed straight to his head, and he gripped your hip tighter while he kissed your skin. You panted, your breath hot in his ear as one of your hands found its way to his hair again, so you could tug on the strands to get his attention. He pulled back enough to look at you, cheeks flushed and hair laid out on the pillows. “Please,” you whined, with a roll of your hips again. 

Steve leaned down and met your lips in a kiss which you returned. You brought his bottom lip into your mouth while he pulled out of you and pushed back in a little faster. He couldn’t help but groan at the sensation of how you felt, tight and wet with your arousal for him. White hot pleasure erupted behind his eyes as he quickened his pace, unable to deny you as you met him thrust for thrust. Your kisses became sloppy, more focused on kissing each other’s skin than lips. On a  hard thrust, Steve’s hand reached up, and squeezed your breast. He found your nipple, and teased it with his fingers. 

A loud moan left your lips at that as your back arched into him, and your wet skin slid against his own as the two of you continued to move together. Your fingers tugged on his hair to urge him to move faster. He could feel that he was close. How could he not be with what you did to him? But there was no way he was going to cum before you. Steve grabbed your thighs and lifted them so they would rest on his shoulders, and the change made him hit even deeper inside of you. 

His actions got an intense response out of you, and Steve watched as you cried out, your eyes closed in pleasure for a moment before they opened and found him once more. He loved this look on your face. So trusting and open, pleasure in your eyes that he had brought you with his body. A body that had been used to fight wars, kill and injure other people, but not for you. For you, his body was used for something more. You had showed him that he could use it for something beautiful instead. 

It’s part of why he was yours. Completely and fully. 

You were close, he could tell by the way your muscles tensed. He knew what you needed to. His hand slipped from your breast, and fingertips grazed over your sweaty skin down to your folds. He leaned forward, while he kept up the speed of his thrusts as he pressed kisses all around your breasts and his fingers brushed your clit. 

You whined, and he couldn’t help but smile up at you as you tugged him by his hair to kiss him. Your lips met at the same time as his fingers touched your clit, and he thrust hard into you. You gasped against his mouth, and he felt you clench around him as you came on his cock. Your hips moved erratically to chase that feeling, and the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you gave him caused him to follow soon after you. 

Steve worked you both through it, and left gentle kisses across your skin until he reached your ticklish spot. There he bit down on it and made you giggle. You swatted at him and shoved him over, causing him to slip out of you. “You kicking me out of bed already?” He teased and brushed some hair off your face with his fingers. 

The smile on your face was filled with satisfaction and affection when you looked at him. “Mhmm, never . . . except when you tickle me.” 

He chuckled, pressed a kiss to your forehead and sat up to go to the bathroom so he could get a washcloth to clean you both up. As soon as he did, he slipped back into bed with you, wrapped you up in his arms and nuzzled his face into the top of your head. “So how does it feel to be getting older?” 

You pouted up at him. “You’re over a hundred. You don’t get to tease me about that old man.” You told him while you tighten your grip on him and let out a contented sigh. “You want to hear something funny?” 

“What?” Steve asked curiously. 

“I might’ve thought you were going to propose yesterday. Crazy right?” 

Steve was so glad you couldn’t see his face, because he was sure there was panic written all over it. 

“But then you said that thing in your pocket was your wallet, and I felt so stupid.” You said with a laugh, but something about it sounded forced. Were you . . . disappointed? 

His panic subsided and turned into concern instead as he noticed the change in you, and he ran a hand through your hair. “You shouldn’t feel stupid. Y/N, you know I’m going to propose to you at some point, right?” 

You looked up at him then, your chin resting on his chest. “I mean, I know we’ve talked about it, but I don’t know, I thought maybe you . . . changed your mind or something.” You bit your lip and shook your head. “God, it sounds so stupid when I say it like that. I’m sorry, I know you haven’t changed your mind. I’m just . . . I’m going to go to sleep now.” 

Before you could roll away from him, Steve placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you up for a passionate kiss. He poured all of his feelings and emotions for you into it and didn’t pull away until he could feel your heart rate speed up against his chest and heard you start to struggle for breath. “I’m never changing my mind about you. Never.” 

This time your smile was soft, your face relaxed from his words before you lay your head back against his chest, curled into him as much as was possible. “Me either,” You replied while you slipped your fingers through his own. 

All this time, Steve had waited for some sort of sign. A sign that it was the right time to ask you. He had known it wasn’t going to be today. He didn’t want it to be something as predictable as your birthday. The fact that you had doubted his feelings for you, even for just a moment, showed him that it was time. 

Tomorrow was the day. He knew that he had thought that before, but this time was different. It was going to happen, whether it was on some romantic sunset or over take out, tomorrow the two of you were going to be engaged, because he couldn’t take one more day of you not being promised to each other for forever.

Taglist: 

@ughhhxjazzy @appreciating-chase-brody @rockyroadthepastryarchy @castellandiangelo @stevieboyharrington

[honekitteh]

FIC: Countdown - Chapter 1

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre:  Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Author's Notes: First installment of an actual chaptered fic in this fandom. Hopefully there will be more in the future.   Warnings: Future chapters will raise the rating to M/E.

Crossposted to AO3

How did I get to this point?  That is an excellent question.  One would expect the so-called Hero of Tython to have a far more heroic introduction.  Jump in to save the day.  Say something suave or clever.  Jyana Kai, the “famous” Jedi Battlemaster who was reported to have killed the Sith Emperor would be able to jump into the fray and defeat anything.

Sure, you would think that.

Instead I was standing underneath a domed barrier with SIS Agent Theron Shan, just waiting.  My bruises had bruises; my mental defenses were on high guard.  He didn’t look too much better but calling down Archiban Frodrick “Doc” Kimble, the most humble doctor I’ve ever known, from the orbital station was out of the question.  

He straightened up after ensuring the shield was properly set and looked to me.  “Okay.  We should wait until they’re good and close.”   

I closed my eyes briefly, allowing my senses to reach out to get a good feel for how much time we had.  It wasn’t much.  I moved slightly closer to Theron and said softly, “I wasn’t sure when I’d run into you again.  Not the greatest circumstances, but still.”  I very nearly reached to him but halted myself with a small glance behind me.  It wasn’t my fellow Jedi and closest friend Kira Carsen though that I sensed when I could feel we weren’t alone.

He offered a weak but knowing smile.  “Maybe next time the lives of an entire world won’t be in danger – but, yeah, feeling’s mutual.”  

I felt my heart flip flop a bit at his smile and met his with my own.  Soon though, I could feel them.  His amber eyes shifted from mine to behind me.  Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I took a deep breath, then reopened them to follow his gaze.  Kira had already drawn her dual-saber, its green light reflecting against the metallic floor.

Theron pulled out his data pad and started tapping. “Okay, here comes the puppet brigade.  Fingers crossed…”

It was a fairly sizeable group, Imperials, Republic troops, and even some Jedi.  I silently cursed the Chancellor and added it to the growing list of matters I will add to a report, should I bother to file one.  At this particular moment, the choice words I had planning were significantly less Jedi than they had been the beginning of this entire fiasco.  The horde moved closer and Theron triggered the device.

That Theron even had to modify it to be non-lethal was not lost on me.  As I saw the soldiers all be stunned and fall to the ground, I could not help but wonder what the result would have been had that modification not been made.  The Empire, putting a weapon in one of its capital cities with the capability to kill a vast amount of their own citizens?  If they had one of these in New Adasta, they could have it on Kass City, or in a number of other cities.  But why?  Because of riots?  Gee, I wonder why anyone would riot against a ruling body that had no regard for their lives.

My eyes glanced over to a Republic soldier that had collapsed.  Were we even better?  The Republic should be better than this.  Theron followed my eyes and let the shield dome collapse.  He approached the soldier and knelt.  “This one was closet, took the biggest hit.”  He reached for his neck, checking his pulse as I walked up beside him.  I looked out towards the door and across the landscape of unconscious bodies.  “Still alive,” Theron confirmed, relief in his voice, “We did it!  Let’s just hope we got all of them.”

“Let’s hope,” I murmured, still scanning the surroundings.  Something still felt off.  This moment was far from over, I could feel it.

“We should call Lana now, see if she has a plan for what’s next.”

The bodies began to float in the air.  “I have a better idea,” a booming male imperial voice spoke through a woman sauntering onto the platform.  With a small flick of a hand motion, the bodies crashed back away from her, clearing a path.  Her eyes yellow and wild, she smirked as she drew her lightsaber.

“Master Surro.”  Theron’s entire stance sunk and he moved to stand between me and the unconscious puppet army and the approaching Jedi Master.  “No...”  I lightly reached an arm to his shoulder, trying to pull him back and shift him behind me, but he stood his ground.

“Watching you believe you had a chance; it’s amused me.”   Master Surro raised her hand sluggishly as if it were pulled by string, the Force lifting a dazed Imperial lieutenant into a sitting position. “Now this whole charade is pathetic.”

I shifted my own position, trying to assess the situation and moved in front of Theron.  Not soon enough, as Master Surro summarily executed the dazed man she’d just set up.  The range of emotions in the man beside me went from shock, to horror, to anger.  It took a great deal of my own willpower and Force meditation to not absorb Theron’s pain and have it fuel me and complement the dread that I felt; the very dread I’ve been feeling rising since the moment I’d received his distress holo.

Master Surro’s lips turned in a cruel sneer.  “Now, how do you wish to die?  In combat or on your knees?”

Lana Beniko, Sith Lord and Director of Sith Intelligence, raced from within the building, lightsaber drawn and poised to attack.

“Go away, little Sith.”  Master Surro easily shoved the approaching Sith Lord with a shove.  Theron moved in front of me again and drew his weapon but was immediately lifted in the air.  He gave me a wincing glance before he was unceremoniously thrown against the wall and crashed the ground.  I looked between Lana and Theron and took the last reserves of my energy to take a deep breath. 

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

Glancing back to Master Surro, I furrowed my brow and drew both my shoto.  The Emperor controlled puppet smirked.  “This has nothing to do with your friends.  This is you and I.”

Igniting my sabers, I leaped into the air.

So how did I get to this point?  I guess I could start from the beginning…

At some point in my early life, I was brought to Hasshimut to take up training to be a Jedi.  I have no recollection of much before this point, no memory of a mother or a father.  The Jedi didn’t see a need to enlighten me and eventually I never truly thought to ask.  Perhaps that was a mistake looking back.

But I digress.  While that may be the beginning of my story, it is not the beginning of this particular story.

Approximately a year or so ago I became more than what was called the Hero of Tython.  I was now the Battlemaster, a reward for helping bring together both Empire and Republic to defeat Revan and to attempt to stop Vitiate from regaining power.  The latter failed however, and a team had been put together to continue trying to find out where he’d gone. 

 “I’ll get the shuttle started,” Kira stated and walked towards the shuttles at the edge of the camp.

Not a second later, I felt another hand brush mine, startling me out of my thoughts and I turned around.  “Theron?”

Theron Shan smiled a bit awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Jedi Battlemaster, huh?”

I shuffled my feet and looked down.  “Yeah, that surprised me too.”

“I suppose we’re both going to be pretty busy.”

“Guess so…” I looked back over the ridge across the lush green jungle moonscape of Yavin IV.  I took a deep breath as the wind blew through my hair.

“So Jy… I guess this is...”

I spun quickly and grabbed his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.  He startled, but then opened his mouth and met my tongue with his own. He wrapped his arms around me, one of his hands lowering to my waist, palm spread out slightly as one of his fingers slightly hooked underneath my belt.  A flash of memory of this morning where a very similar kiss led into a shuttle caused my cheeks to heat up slightly.  Slowly easing myself out of the thought, on how much I wanted to get lost in his arms again, I lowered my hands to rest on his chest and pulled out of the kiss, both of us breathless.  I attempted to play it cool as I said, “Don’t be a stranger, Agent Shan.”

He smiled softly and his eyes seemed to twinkle as he leaned his head against mine.  He traced his fingers against my cheek and whispered softly, “I won’t.”

I slowly opened my eyes and wondered when I’d drifted off.  The pilot chair wasn’t the most comfortable place to nap, but I supposed I was tired.  Pinching the bridge of my nose I leaned back in the seat and sorted through my thoughts.  The Defender was quiet as it usually was when I opted to take the night shift.  No bickering over space or Doc being a bit confused why he was suddenly thinking of all his old ex-girlfriends.  I usually used this time to meditate.

Or accidentally fall asleep and dream about...

It’d been months without a holo.  Just a small message about actually having caf with his mother.  That’s progress though, so I don’t begrudge him that.  It’s not like I’d entirely made a lot of time to reach out either, so I couldn’t pin it all on him.  Flying from planet to planet, seeing where I can lend my hand with the war effort or even some of the little things like Master Orgus reminded me, didn’t always lend me a lot of time to go to Carrick Station or Coruscant just to see what a good-looking SIS Agent was up to.

The planet I was in orbit of wasn’t extremely remarkable, though that was from the eyes of someone who had been staring at it for the last five days.  It was an unnamed Jovian type gas giant, swirling with green and teal colors of gas.  It had two ringed belts, one full of asteroids and the other vibrant and as colorful as the world surrounding it.  The two rings intersected in an X shape. 

There has been a mine there within the asteroid belt, though it had been long abandoned many years ago.  There were some fairly rare minerals that had been mined from within the asteroids and within the gas giant itself.  There were numerous reports of a space whale like creature called Purrgils that frequented this system as well.  Those creatures were apparently fairly notorious for knocking spacers out of hyperspace so I had to fly carefully in this region.  I vaguely recalled images of them, which reminded me of something I used to dream of as a child.  The dreams didn’t make them out to be a menace, but no one ever said spacers told accurate tales.

The Council wanted me to send a few probes within the system to assess its strategic worth.  An odd task for the Jedi Battlemaster I thought.  I’m a Jedi, not a Scientist.  I solved problems easier with a lightsaber.  But I could sense there was definitely more within this system than just a simple mineral assessment.  Though this seemed it would have been better to just send an actual expert in this field.  Everything I found I just forwarded to Barsen’thor Sheridan to show to her scientist companion, Tharan Cedrix.

I thought I caught a blip of a lifesign flying into the gas giant when suddenly, a holo comm started breaking through.  Staticky at first, I fiddled with the settings.

“--repeat: Repubic call sign Aurek Nen—hey! Finally!”

It felt like time stopped.  I was walking through a desolated world: buildings, ground, even the sun all washed out in shades of brown and grey.  My own bright white clothing, faded with the terrain.  As soon as the vision hit, it was over, and I heard Theron’s voice trying to get my attention.

Snapping out of it, I took a quick breath and quickly responded, “Theron. Are you all right?”

His voice came across frantic.  “That would be a negative, Master Jedi! I’m in Imperial space, over Ziost.  Tried to slip in, help out my ground team, but I used the wrong set of clearance codes and shields are low!”

I furrowed my brow slightly but tried to keep mostly calm. “Focus on getting yourself to safety, then we’ll talk. “

“No, you really need to hear what I have to say. I was getting reports: demented soldiers; slave and civilian populations under fire. Had suspicions of what it meant, but I wasn’t sure.”  My heart sunk even lower as he continued speaking.  “I sent a team in dark to investigate, maybe handle it, but it’s all gone out of control now. I think it’s him. The Emperor.”

“I’m supposed to be the first one you contact when it comes to him, not your last resort,” I snapped.

“I should have said something—I know.”

I closed my eyes briefly to try to settle my own racing heartbeat.

He continued, “Sending through the right set of clearance codes along with the coordinates to meet my-- “ There was a loud explosion and he lost balance as his ship rattled.  “I’m hit! Going to try to land this thing! Don’t come looking for me, I’ll—”

“Theron? Theron, come in!”  I frantically tried to get the signal back.  When that didn’t work, I just mashed the buttons on console and the Defender quickly jumped into hyperspace.

[deana-r]

Ageless Artifacts

By deana.r

During the Second World War, the Germans had dropped bombs against Britain as an offensive, resulting in its strategic failure. The area affected by the blitz later on became a site where further historical examinations have been held. Among the debris, a vase had been found, containing several letters that have already been worn from ashes and its own aging nature. The contents of those letters however, shocked the modern world in such a cultural level, that it was eventually immortalized in museums, historical fiction, and other entertainment branches. In our modern day society, it received a higher regard than what it might have gotten during its own time. 

Note: Some portions of the artifacts were smudged. The manner of addressing were also on a first name basis, hence the sender was unidentifiable, and the receiver vague.

I.

1936 

London, England

Dear Wilson, 

I turned nine today! You're still two months older that I am, but at least we're both the same age old, even if it's just for now. How is it in Newbury? Even though I'm all the way here in London, I hope you'll come and visit again! I still have that magnifying glass that you gave me. My little sister loves to play with it. Sometimes, she even asks Emily to play with her when I'm busy with my studies. She came to visit me today, and we played while our parents chatted. Remember Emily? She came around the same time you did a few months ago. I've grown to quite like her. She's pretty and cute. She always loves to bring her dolls around, and she'd never put them down. We're boys, so we like to play with wooden airplanes! At least, that's what my father tells me. He bought me an English war plane as a birthday present. It looks just like the ones from the Great War, with its majestic blue, red and white. My uncle came around today and told his stories to Dianne and I. Apparently, he had fought as a soldier. He was very brave. I couldn't understand why the army had made him spend half of his career in a dress and high-heels. My father once told me that men like that were undeserving to be called that – "men". I wonder what it means to be a man. Do you know Wilson? It seems like I won't be seeing him in a while. I wonder where he's leaving to. I hope it won't be long. Wilson, today was the first time I saw him leave without my father bidding him a goodbye. Father never forgets to say goodbye. Now, he's just staring at him with a frown. I hope they're not fighting.

Sinserely, (sorry if it's incorrect. I'm still working on my spelling)

Dianne and I

II.

1940

London, England

Dear Wilson, 

I'm still thinking about you every day. Dianne is looking forward to those strawberry tarts that you gave us during my thirteenth birthday. I remember my father had told me I'd finally become a man that day. Also, I've heard several stories about our childhood friend, Emily. It seems she's stopped her obsession with dolls and now moved on to fencing. Strange isn't it? A woman who fences. It's just as strange as a man who likes other men. At least, that's what my father tells me. Wilson, I still don't know what it takes to become a man. Do you need to be fearless and buff? Collect a hundred types of airplane models, and wish to serve the army? Because I don't. Yet, my father demands that I join the Royal Air Force by the time I turn fifteen. Wilson, I'm afraid that I won't be the man that my father wants me to be.

With much concern, 

me

III.

1941 

London, England 

Dear Wilson, Today, my classmates called me a "Nancy Boy". I didn't know what it meant, but I figured it was because of the poems that one of the boys found in my notebook. Lately, I've been writing a lot of those. It seems to be the only way I could truly express my emotions, because it's as if no one wants to lend an ear considering that I'm a boy. But Wilson, I want to thank you for listening to me. Truly, you are my best friend. I feel quite troubled though. I sent letters to my uncle – to his prison. Do you think he received them? He hasn't replied for quite a while. I hope he isn't too lonely. I found the picture locket that he gave me a few years ago. There was a picture of himself and another man, and now I've many questions yet to be answered. Anyway, how is it in Newbury? I'm a tad worried for you, because my father told me as of late that it was only a matter of time until the Germans come again. Do you think we'll win the war? The clouds are darker than they usually are. 

Sincerest wishes, 

Your childhood friend 

IV.

1942 

Lincolnshire, England 

Dear Wilson, 

I lost the end of the bargain. I've become a soldier. I was finally able to ask my Uncle some questions, and he told me to hide. I didn't understand what he meant until my first few days. It's just as what my Uncle had told me before he went to prison. There were men cladded in women's clothing, serving as entertainment for the fighting men. It seemed as if that was all they were told to do, as if that was all they were meant to do for the war – get laughed at. I couldn't tolerate the sight. They were the men who wanted to fight, to win, to gain victory for Britain, and yet, the authorities wouldn't let them. So what if they were queer? Wilson, I didn't understand why I needed to hide, but now it seems clear. This is all a load of rubbish. A man from my flight had been made fun of by one of our soldiers, and now that he had been caught, he's bound to serve the army the way he never expected, nor wanted. Why must they assume that a man's sexuality determines their bravery on the battlefield? I know for a solid fact that I don't deserve to be treated this unfairly, to only be imprisoned right after like my uncle, who had risked his life in the first war along with all the other fighting men. The law is terrible. 

Wilson, I've been a coward, but please abide by this request. Hide my letters in a place where no one would dare look – hide them somewhere safe. If anyone were to discover my writings, only God knows what they'll do to me next. I do not wish to stop writing to you, and I do miss you painfully, but this may be my last letter. There are still many things I have yet to say to you, but at a time in the skies, it's either fall of fly. If I live by the last dire moment, I promise I'll tell you the truth. If I don't, well, pray that I do. I can't say my final goodbye without seeing your face one last time.

With much hope, 

my life. 

Note: it was later on discovered that remnants of the letters have been found inside a burnt suitcase. The location was several miles west from the blitz, where a train had been bombed as well, resulting in the death of all passengers. Traces identified that the letters were connected with the ones prior, despite the Artifacts' critically damaged state.

V.

1942

Lincolnshire, England 

Dear Wilson, 

I miss the old days when you, Emily and I would run through the willow swept bridges above the river – our reflections, we used to smile at. Dianne misses it too. I... miss you too. Wilson, I know this might sound like it came out of the blue, but is it true? I heard that you're getting engaged with Emily, and that the both of you shall be wed by the time you turn eighteen. Do you love her? Wilson, there's still some things that I am unsure of, but by the time I've fit the puzzles in my head, please don't slip away from me yet. How do I explain? I suppose, I've never really liked airplanes. I've only liked being with you, and if you liked airplanes, I wanted to also do the same. How do I explain this feeling? It's quite difficult to comprehend. Whatever it is, I'm sure my father won't tolerate it. He may even hate me for it. I hope you won't. Dare I say, I hope you feel otherwise, the way I so passionately feel for you. Forgive me Wilson, but I- (the following words were smudged). 

Truthfully, 

Your Best friend

VI.

1943

Lincolnshire, England 

Wilson, 

Please, please reply to me as soon as you can. I must know that you are safe. I hear Newbury had been bombed from the skies – the Germans really did come again. Please Wilson, if you had passed first before me, I'd never feel deserving to live. Please, Wilson. Please give me another chance to see you. Didn't I promise that I'd return? I can't be too late. Wilson, I wished I could have told you everything from the beginning. Although we've known each other since we were children, I can't bear the notion that this is it. I'm so sorry that I was too late.

VII.

1943

Lincolnshire, England

Dear Wilson,

I heard your family was able to escape. Once you've received this letter, maybe the rest might have been burnt to dust. Maybe that would have been for the best, but Wilson, always keep this secret close to your heart. My uncle... he had told me to hide who I am, because we are - (the following words were incoherent), but we're also very beautiful people, Wilson. I know this to be true because my Uncle has always been kind, but many people can't understand what's there, because they only judge from so far. Remember the magnifying glass that you gave me? I wished so badly that they'd have those for eyes. There was this soldier who called me a "fruitcake", but I know he didn't mean anything sweet. I've been used for a year, Wilson, and I'm very tired of it. I'm tired of being thought of as weak, and I'm tired of waiting for the war to end, knowing that our very own British soldiers were going to persecute us by that time comes. The next time you see me, I don't want to be sleeping behind cold metal bars. I want to be with you and Emily, someplace safe and happy. Will you promise me that you'll do just that? Will you promise me you'll live happily? It's just like the airplanes. I won't until you'll be. 

Sincerely, 

R. C. 

VIII.

1945

Newport, England

Dear Wilson, 

I'm spending my birthday alone, and it only reminds me of how much I miss you. I still hold my uncle's picture locket dearly, and although his stories depicted sorrows until his last breath, I truly believe that his ghost was delivered happily to heaven. Just like him Wilson, I long for the day we find that happiness. That's all I've ever wanted. As long as I am able to stay by you, Emily and Dianne, there isn't anything else that I could ever ask for. Dianne, my beloved sister... I miss her, Wilson. I really do. I wish I could be there for her in London, but I cannot return home. Ever since I ran away from the station in Lincolnshire, I promised myself that I wouldn't ever look back. The skies are clearing though. Maybe my mind will too. My father said I was an abomination, and that I should have sacrificed my life in the skies like a noble man, but I know for sure that God loves me, and that it wasn't his plan. Because now, I've found a reason why I continue to live. The war is going to end soon, and by that time comes, I would have already ended my own. Thank you for everything. You know Wilson, there are many things that I find beautiful in this world. The way the sun glistens through ash-stained clouds, the way grass shines silver linings after a storm has gone, or the way your laughter sends earthquakes in my heart — you might think I jest, but it is true. I don't know when, but I know we'll meet again. Take care on that train Wilson, and take care of the child in Emily's womb. I wish you the best of all God's blessings, and I constantly pray for your safe arrival. 

Adieu Wilson. 

Yours forever, 

I love you

(P.S. I'm sorry I never told you) 

Note: after the bombing of the train, further examination has shown that the burnt suitcase in which the last four letters were found in, contained a photograph placed in between the pages of the owner's notebook. The face was slightly blurry, but seemed to be faintly smiling. The background was faded, yet it gave a bright memoir. The young man in the photo looked like an apparition from a far distance, but he still looked vividly alive. It was assumed that the subject in the photo was the unknown sender, the one Wilson had treasured the most. 

[annedechateaubrouc]

Our Lady of Fatima: Apparitions

“My Immaculate Heart will be your refuge, and the way that will lead you to God.”

-Our Lady of Fatima, June 13th 1917

Previous post ➽   The Angel of Portugal’s apparitions

The Apparitions of Our Lady

I. The first apparition

II. Saint Anthony’s feast day

III. The vision of hell

IV. The prison

V. The cure and the sacrifices

VI. The miracle of the sun 

VII. Collection of pictures

I. May 13th 1917, the first apparition

 Lucia Dos Santos and her two cousins, Francisco and Jacinta Marto, took their sheeps to graze outside of Fatima, Cova da Iria. As they were playing together, a flash lighted up the sky. They gathered their sheeps quickly, thinking a storm was brewing in the distance. A second flash them to jump, then, a beautiful young woman appeared a few meters away from them, on a holm oak. She was dressed in white, more brilliant than the sun. Her face, indescribably beautiful, and was neither sad nor happy, but serious with an air of mild reproach. Her hands, joined together as if she were praying, were resting at her breast and pointing upward. A rosary hung from her right hand.

Our Lady: Do not be afraid; I will not harm you.

Lucia: Where is Your Grace from?

Our Lady: I am from heaven

Lucia: And what does Your Grace wish of me?

Our Lady: I have come to ask you to come here for six months in succession on the thirteenth day of each month at this same hour. Later I will tell you who I am and what I want. Afterward, I will return here a seventh time.

Lucia: And will I go to heaven, too?

Our Lady: Yes, you will.

Lucia: And Jacinta?

Our Lady: Also.

Lucia: And Francisco?

Our Lady: Also, but he must say many rosaries.

Lucia: Is Maria das Neves already in heaven?

Our Lady: Yes, she is.

Lucia: And Amélia?

Our Lady: She will be in purgatory until the end of the world. Do you wish to offer yourselves to God to endure all the sufferings that He may be pleased to send you, as both an act of reparation for the sins with which He is offended and an act of supplication for the conversion of sinners?

Lucia: Yes, we do.

Our Lady: Well then, you will have much to suffer. But the grace of God will be your comfort

Then, She disappeared.

Lucia told her two cousins to not tell anyone about the apparition. Maybe due to Jacinta’s  young age, she revealed the secret to her mother, who thought her daughter was imagining stories. After a while, her father, Ti Marto, came to believe her story.

Meanwhile in Lucia’s home, she was suffering greatly. Her mother, Maria Rosa, was extremely angered by her daughter. She believed that the young Lucia was blasphemous and that she had sinned gravely. She was mocked by her family and her friends. When Jacinta was informed, she felt terrible. She asked her cousin for forgiveness, Lucia immediatly forgave her.

The three children talked amongst themselves about the apparition and reflected deeply on Her message. Francisco came up with the idea of giving their lunches to their sheeps, as a sacrifice for the conversion of sinners. They also deprived themselves of water, during long hot summer days.

Maria Rosa felt embarrassed by her daughter, she was scared that the story would spread in the village. So she asked her Parish Priest, Fr. Manuel, to pressure Lucia to recant it.

The Priest listened carefully and questioned her a lot, which caused Lucia to start doubting what she had seen. Which was one of the worst ordeals she had to deal with.

II. June 13th 1917, St Anthony of Padua’s feast day

During the afternoon, even though there were festivities going on in the village, the three children headed off to the Cova. There, they found a small crowd waiting for them. They decided to pray the Rosary with the people who were present. After doing so, the lightening flashed and the Lady appeared on the holm oak, like in May. Lucia spoke to her:

Lucia: Tell me, what does Your Grace wish of me?

Our Lady: I want you to come here on the thirteenth of next month. I want you to continue saying the Rosary every day. And after each one of the mysteries, my children, I want you to pray in this way: O my Jesus, forgive us our sins , save us from the fire of hell. Take all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need. I want you to learn to read and write, and later I will tell you what else I want of you.

(Lucia asks for the cure of a sick person)

Our Lady: If he is converted, he will be cured during the year.

Lucia: Will you take us to heaven?

Our Lady: Yes, I shall take Jacinta and Francisco soon, but you will remain a little longer, since Jesus wishes you to make me known and loved on earth. He wishes also for you to establish devotion in the world to my Immaculate Heart. 

Lucia: Must I remain in the world alone?

Our Lady: Not alone, my child, and you must not be sad. I will be with you always, and my Immaculate Heart will be your refuge and the way which will lead you to God.

Lucia later wrote: As Our Lady spoke these last words, she opened her hands and for the second time, she communicated to us the rays of that immense light. We saw ourselves in this light, as it were, immersed in God. Jacinta and Francisco seemed to be in that part of the light which rose towards Heaven, and I in that which was poured out on the earth.In front of the palm of Our Lady’s right hand was a heart encircled by thorns which pierced it..We understood that this was the Immaculate Heart of Mary, outraged by the sins of humanity, and seeking reparation.You know now, Your Excellency, what we referred to when we said that Our Lady had revealed a secret to us in June. At the time, Our Lady did not tell us to keep it a secret, but we felt moved to do so by God.

The small crowd, although they had not perceived our Lady herself, had seen a few things such as the lightening, a certain dimming of the sun or a little grey cloud that came and went. They believed and truly converted.

This second apparition alarmed even more the children’s families, especially their mothers. The two women understood that the rumors of the apparition were expanding through Fatima, and maybe even outside of it. Plus, the Parish Priest started to believe that it was truly real, but maybe of demonic origins.

III. July 13th1917, the vision of hell

As they arrived to the Cova, the three children saw a large number of people praying the Rosary. Soon enough, there was flash of lightening and the Lady appeared above the holm oak. Mr. Marto, who was there too, noticed a small greyish cloud hovered the tree and that a breeze started to blow:

Lucia: what does Your Grace wish of me?

Our Lady: I want you to come here on the 13th of next month, to continue to pray the Rosary every day in honor of Our Lady of the Rosary, in order to obtain peace for the world and the end of the war, because only she can help you. 

Lucia: I would like to ask you to tell us who you are, and to work a miracle so that everybody will believe that you are appearing to us. 

Our Lady: Continue to come here every month; in October, I will tell you who I am and what I want and I will perform a miracle for all to see and believe. Sacrifice yourselves for sinners and say many times, especially whenever you make some sacrifice: “O Jesus, it is for the love of you, for the conversion of sinners, and in reparation for the sins committed against the Immaculate Heart of Mary.”

I. The vision of hell

Lucia later wrote:

As Our Lady spoke these last words, she opened her hands once more, as she had done during the two previous months. The rays of light seemed to penetrate the earth, and we saw as it were a sea of fire. Plunged in this fire were demons and souls in human form, like transparent burning embers, all blackened or burnished bronze, floating about in the conflagration, now raised into the air by the flames that issued from within themselves together with great clouds of smoke, now falling back on every side like sparks in huge fires, without weight or equilibrium, amid shrieks and groans of pain and despair, which horrified us and made us tremble with fear. (It must have been this sight which caused me to cry out, as people say they heard me.) The demons could be distinguished by their terrifying and repellant likeness to frightful and unknown animals, black and transparent like burning coals. This vision lasted but an instant. How can we ever be grateful enough to our kind heavenly Mother, who had already prepared us by promising, in the first Apparition, to take us to heaven. Otherwise, I think we would have died of fear and terror.”

II. The chastisement

Our Lady: You have seen hell where the souls of poor sinners go. To save them, God wishes to establish devotion to my Immaculate Heart. If what I say to you is done, many souls will be saved and there will be peace. The war is going to end; but if people do not cease offending God, a worse one will break out during the Pontificate of Pius XI. When you see a night illumined by an unknown light, know that this is a great sign given to you by God that He is about to punish the world for its crimes, by means of war, famine, and persecutions of the Church and of the Holy Father.

III. Russia’s errors and needed conversion

Our Lady: To prevent this, I shall come to ask for the consecration of Russia to my Immaculate Heart, and the Communion of Reparation on First Saturdays. If my requests are heeded, Russia will be converted, and there will be peace; if not, she will spread her errors throughout the world, causing wars and persecutions of the Church. The good will be martyred, the Holy Father will have much to suffer, various nations will be annihilated. In the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph. The Holy Father will consecrate Russia to me, and she will be converted, and a period of peace will be granted to the world. In Portugal, the dogma of the Faith will always be preserved. Do not tell this to anybody. Francisco, yes, you may tell him. When you pray the Rosary, say after each mystery: “O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who are most in need.”

Lucia: Is there anything Your Grace wish of me?

Our Lady: No, I do not want anything more of you today.

IV. August 13th-19th 1917, the prison

On August 13th, the three children were unable to come to the Cova da Iria to meet our Lady. They had been kidnapped by the mayor of a neighbouring village who wanted to know the secret of the third apparition. He imprisoned them and threatened to plunge them in boiling oil. But they held fast.

Our Lady certainly appeared at the Cova, but didn’t find the three children. People explained that they saw a cloud hover the holm oak for a few minutes.

After they were released from prison, on August 19th, Lucia was with Francisco and another cousin at Valinhos. Around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the temperature started to cool down suddenly. Lucia sensed that something was going to happen, she sent someone to get Jacinta, who arrived on time when our Lady appeared:

Lucia: What does Your Grace wish of me?

Our Lady: I want you to continue going to the Cova da Iria on the thirteenth day of each month and to continue praying the Rosary every day. On the last month, I will perform a miracle for all to believe. (She started to look sad) If they had not taken you to Ourém, the miracle would have been even greater.

Lucia: What does Your Grace want done with the money that people leave at Cova da Iria?

Our Lady: Have two portable stands made. You and Jacinta with two other girls dressed in white carry one of them, and let Francisco with three other boys carry the second one. The portable stands are for the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. The money that is left over should be contributed to the chapel they shall build.

Lucia: I would like to ask you for the healing of some sick persons.

Our Lady: Yes, I will cure some during the year. (She looked very sad) Pray, pray a lot, and offer up sacrifices for sinners; many souls go to hell because there is no one to offer up sacrifices and pray for them.

V. September 13th 1917, the cure and sacrifices

The three children left their home to go to the Cova. As they arrived, they saw an enormous crowd of people, about 20.000, waiting for them. Some climbed up trees to see the three seers making their way to the Cova with difficulty. Others reached to them, falling on their knees, and begged them to place their petitions before our Lady. A few people, who were far from the children, shouted from the distance:

“For the love of God, ask Our Lady to cure my son who is a cripple!”

“And cure mine who is blind!”

“Cure mine who is deaf!”

“Ask her to bring back my husband! And my son who has gone to war!”

And many other petitions.

Lucia later wrote: I give thanks to God, offering Him the faith of our good Portuguese people, and I think: “If these people so humbled themselves before three poor children, just because they were mercifully granted the grace to speak to the Mother of God, what would they not do if they saw Our Lord Himself in person before them?” Well, none of this was called for here! It was a distraction of my pen, leading me away where I did not mean to go.

Once they arrived at the Cova da Iria, near the holm oak, they prayed the Rosary with the crowd. The same phenomenons from the previous apparitions happened before the eyes of the thousands of people: the air suddenly cooled, the sun dimmed to the point where the stars could be seen, and a rain resembled iridescent petals or snowflakes that disappeared before touching the ground.

Then, with the usual flash of light, our Lady appeared on the holm oak.

Our Lady: Continue to pray the Rosary in order to obtain the end of the war. In October Our Lord will come, as well as Our Lady of Sorrows and Our Lady of Carmel, Saint Joseph will appear with the Child Jesus to bless the world. God is pleased with your sacrifices. He does not want you to sleep with the rope on, but only to wear it during the daytime.

Lucia: I was told to ask you many things, the cure of some sick people, of a deaf-mute…

Our Lady: Yes, I will cure some, but not others. In October I will perform a miracle so that all may believe.

She began to rise and disappeared.

VI. October 13th 1917, the miracle of the sun

Rain fell profusely that day. The three children and Lucia’s mother, who came because she was uncertain of what would actually happen, decided to leave early, knowing that there were going to be many people at the Cova da Iria and nearby places. And they were right. An enormous crowd, 70.000 people, was outside, some kneeling in the muddy ground.

Once they arrived in front of the holm oak, Lucia asked to everyone to close their umbrellas and to pray the Rosary. As they did, a light flashed and our Lady appeared:

Lucia: What does Your Grace wish of me?

Our Lady: I wish to tell you that I want a chapel built here in my honor. I am the Lady of the Rosary. Continue to pray the rosary every day. The war is going to end, and the soldiers will soon return to their homes.

Lucia: I have many things to ask you: if you would cure some sick persons, and if you would convert some sinners...

Our Lady: Some yes, but not others, they must amend their lives and ask forgiveness for their sins.

Then, she started to look sad and added:

Our Lady:  Do not offend the Lord our God any more, because He is already so much offended.

Then opening her hands, she made them reflect on the sun, and as she ascended, the reflection of her own light continued to be projected on the sun itself.

Lucia: Look at the sun!

Three scenes followed, Jacinta and Francesco could only see the first one.

The first:

It was the Holy Family, Saint Joseph and Our Lady (who appeared as Our Lady of The Rosary) were dressed in white but the Child Jesus was dressed in light red.  Christ and St. Joseph blessed the crowd by making the sign of the Cross three times.

The second:

It was Our Lord and Our Lady of Sorrows on their way to the Calvery. They were both overwhelmed with sorrow and sadness. Christ blessed the crowd again.

The third:

Our Lady of Mount Carmel, appeared holding gloriously holding the Child Jesus near Her Heart.

While Lucia was seeing the visions, the crowd observed odd phenomenons. The grey clouds parted, making the rain stop. They watched the sun, which looked like a silver disk, spin rapidly as it “danced” around the sky. Then it stopped momentarily, only to begin spinning vertiginously again. Its rim became scarlet; whirling, it scattered red flames across the sky.Their light was reflected on the ground, on the trees, on the bushes, and on the faces and clothing of the people, which took on brilliant hues and changing colors.After performing this bizarre pattern three times, the globe of fire seemed to tremble, shake, and then plunge in a zigzag toward the terrified crowd.All this lasted about ten minutes. Finally, the sun zigzagged back to its original place and once again became still and brilliant, shining with its normal brightness. The cycle of the apparitions had ended.

VII. Collection of pictures:

[net4news]

50 years of Mammootty: Why the superstar shows no signs of slowing down

The popular Malayalam actor’s career reflects the importance of being earnest, as he continues to work hard and evolve, even after 50 years in the industry

Fifty years of shining bright on the silver screen has not dimmed the lustre of Mammootty, aka Muhammad Kutty Panaparambil Ismail. On August 6, 1971, Mammootty, then a lanky student of Maharaja’s College in Kochi, made his debut as an actor in a blink-and-miss appearance in film director KG Sethumadhavan’s Anubhavangal Paalichakal. Mammootty reappeared on the screen in 1980 in a small role in Vilkkanundu Swapnangal (Dreams for Sale), written by MT Vasudevan Nair and directed by Azad. Also Read | Get ‘First Day First Show’, our weekly newsletter from the world of cinema, in your inbox. You can subscribe for free here It was the late IV Sasi’s movies, many written by T Damodaran and MT Vasudevan Nair, that catapulted Mammootty into a superstar. Seema, Sasi’s wife, who acted with Mammootty in several blockbusters, recalls meeting him on the set of Sphodanam in 1981. “I liked his confidence and wondered who he was. I was told he was a newcomer called Mammootty. I went across and met him and told him that I liked the way he carried himself,” she says.

MT Vasudevan Nair and Mammootty   | Photo Credit: Ragesh K She recalls complimenting her husband for casting him in Trishna (1981). Seema and Mammootty worked in classics such as Anubandham, Aaalkoottathil Thaniye, Adiyozhukkukal, Aksharangal etc. all scripted by Jnanapith winner MT Vasudevan Nair. “Recently, I saw One, his latest release. I called up Sulu, Mammootty’s wife, and told her how much I enjoyed the film. Sulu continues to be a good friend and we keep in touch,” says Seema. One of Mammotty’s early characters to get noticed was that of police officer named Jacob Eraly in KG George’s masterpiece Yavanika. Jalaja, who played the lead in the film, talks about a serious actor who used to drive down from Kochi every day to the sets of Yavanika in Thiruvananthapuram as he was shooting simultaneously for two films. “Most of Mammootty’s scenes were in the night where he was shown questioning the suspects. His dedication towards his work was evident. Even then he was getting a number of roles.” In the meantime, Mammootty and director Joshiy struck a golden partnership that produced many of his mega hits, beginning with Aarathri (1983) and films that covered different genres such as New Delhi, Nirakootu, Shyama, Nair Saab, No.20 Madras Mail and Kuttettan.

When the actor was at his busiest, he got a call from auteur Adoor Gopalakrishnan for Anantharam (1987). “It was not the lead and I told him that. But it hardly mattered to him. He came up with a superb act. Then he played the lead in Mathilukal (written by Vaikom Mohammed Basher), for which he won his first National award for Best Actor (along with Hariharan’s Oru Vadakkan Veeragatha). He told me that he considered himself fortunate to play the role of Basheer while the writer was still there,” says Adoor. Vidheyan, the third film that Adoor and Mammootty teamed up, bagged the actor his second National award for Best Actor. “It was an anti-hero role. As soon as I called Mammootty, he said ‘yes’. He asked if he could read the screenplay. Mammootty is the only actor in my films who has read a screenplay of mine before the film began. The film required him to cut his hair short. I was right there to ensure that his hair was cropped almost to his scalp,” says Adoor. Praising his discipline, Adoor says the halo of a ‘star’ was nowhere visible when Mammootty faced the camera. “Even at his peak as a superstar, here was an actor who was keen on doing offbeat films and enjoyed pushing himself to breathe life into his role,” adds the auteur.

Like nobody

During the Eighties and Nineties, Mammootty worked in several back-to-back films under the helmsmanship of PG Viswambharan, J Sasikumar, Padmarajan, Lohitadas and so on. Mammootty has also worked with Bharathan, KG George, Sibi Malayil, Shaji N Karun, Lohitadas and Shyamaprasad with equal felicity. He also went on to act in Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Hindi and an English film on Dr Ambedkar. Mammootty’s family dramas, a favourite of his fans, saw him personify patriarchal family values that came to be identified with several of his characters in films such as Vatsalyam, Arayannegalude Veedu, Valyettan, Chronic Bachelor and scores of similar films. Film director Ranjith, another filmmaker who gave Mammootty some of his memorable roles in the recent past, says the veteran is someone who never lets seniority stand in the way of making a good film. Pranchiyettan & The Saint, Paleri Manikyam: Oru Pathirakolapathakathinte Katha, Puthen Panam and more were some of the duo’s films that worked at the box office. “Mammootty has this talent to speak different dialects in Malayalam and I doubt if there is anyone in the industry who has done so many with such perfection,” says Ranjith. He recounts fondly how the actor worked without any remuneration in Kaiyoppu because he liked the character and how Mammootty told him he would co-produce Pranchiyettan... when Ranjith told him he was producing the film under his banner.

Mammootty's click of Adoor Gopalakrishnan with his favourite cinematographer Mankada Ravi Varma on the sets of ‘Mathilukal’   | Photo Credit: Special arrangement Ranjith believes Mammootty is that rare actor who is willing to work with people who think out of the box. He has no qualms in reaching out to anyone, who he hears, is doing an interesting film. “In fact, he notices the crew on the set and the minute he sees someone with promise, he asks them when they plan to write or direct and to keep in touch with him,” says Ranjith. Lal Jose (Oru Maravathoor Kanavu), Lohitadas (Bhoothakkannadi), Anwar Rashid (Rajamanikyam), Aashiq Abu (Daddy Cool), Blessy (Kazhcha), Amal Neerad (Big B) and Martin Prakkat (Best Actor) are among those who turned directors with a Mammootty film. “It was Mammookka who made me a director. I was the cinematographer of Ranjith’s Mammootty-starrer Black and was set to return to Mumbai where I was working. Once the film was over, out of the blue, Mammookka told me to call him when I have a project to direct,” says Amal, whose first film with him was Big B.

The way forward

Bheeshmaparvam, Mammootty’s new film for release, is also directed by Amal and Big B is scheduled to have a sequel. Amal says although Big B was panned initially, it became a cult classic among a new generation of film-goers. “Unlike previous films of the actor, there was almost no melodramatic speeches. His role was that of a cold man who spoke few words and he did it so well,” adds Amal.

Showing no signs of slowing down, Mammootty is busy listening to scripts and working. A strict diet and a fitness regimen have ensured that the 69-year-old actor looks younger than many of his juniors in the industry. The tech-crazy actor has always kept himself abreast of technology in cinema. A keen photographer, Adoor has talked about his excellent photographic skills. Also well known is his craze for automobiles of which he has a huge collection. As 2021 confines cinema largely to OTT platforms, Mammootty has been waiting in the wings for reopening of theatres to enliven the big screen again with his characters. Source link Read the full article