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mysweetestcreature · 4 years ago

Text

Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mummy, come back!”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

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

“We’ll be happier here?”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him.

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

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

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Busy with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That seems sudden,” she says.

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

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

***

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

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

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you see?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

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

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part.

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

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

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

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?”

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

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

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

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

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

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

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kaleidoscope?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!”

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

***

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

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

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

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

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

“Oh, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

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

***

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

***

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

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

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

“So, what’s going on?”

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

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

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

“Harry?” she whispers.

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

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

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

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

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

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

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

He turns around and doesn’t look back.

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

*** Ten Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That last bit sticks to her.

***

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

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

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

“Good news?” she teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“And what did you do?”

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

Ava snorts into her drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?”

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

“Then why bother coming back!"

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

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

“Pen–”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I insist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s completely beside the point!”

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

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

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Then he left.

***

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

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

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

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

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

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

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

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

It’s heartache.

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that–”

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

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

It makes her sick.

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

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

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

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

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

And it shouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“I have to.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nod is all she can afford.

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

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

She looks happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The entire length of him slides into her tight hole until he bottoms out, his balls pressing against her taut ass. She feels undeniably full, never having experienced such exhilaration in her life as Harry’s bare cock stretches her out completely.

“Just slid right in,” he grunts, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He bites down and sucks greedily on the spot until he’s made his mark. She gasps in mild pain, but it feels too good to know that she can finally be his. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in with ease, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her walls flutter around him. “It feels like you were made for me” She feels marvelously tight, squeezing him for all he’s worth. All she can do is nod, her voice caught in her throat as his thrusts become harder and faster. “It’s all mine now, your pussy, your lips. You’re all mine.”

“I’m yours, all yours, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “God, your big cock feels so good in my tight pussy.” Nails dig into his back as they run down and carve crescents into his flexed and sweaty muscles.

They move flawlessly in sync as she rises up to greet his every thrust with just as much excitement and fervor. Both their bodies are on fire, a pressure building up at their very core and threatening to unravel at any moment. His balls tighten, and he knows he won’t last for much longer. He looks down between them, his cock completely soaked with her with the most sinful sounds resonating whenever he pushes in and out of her delightful heat. “I love you,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers indenting into the plush of her hips. He loses any sense of rhythm he might have started out with, his movements becoming more and more urgent as he chases after his high.

“I love you.” Her second orgasm fast approaches, she feels it thrill every one of her nerves as though currents of electricity were running through her veins. She’s so close, and her hand slips between their sweaty chests to rub desperately on her clit. Her head is spinning with an aspiration to reach the brink of ecstasy.

“Come all over my cock,” he pleads as he pushes into her with incredible force. “Want to feel you come around me.”

And that’s it for her. A wave of pleasure crashes over her and she cries out with a high-pitched moan. Her legs hugging him so tightly that he barely manages to move. She rides it out, rolling her hips to feel him continuously poke that special spot. Soon enough, her mind is on a cloud, the rest of her body soaking up the bliss of the moment.

His movements only become more erratic, and the breath leaves her body once he releases inside of her. Hot white ribbons shoot out and paint her walls with the image of a sensational love. It warms her center, her lips turning up in a lazy smile as he remains within her even after the final drop has left his tip. Once they’re heaving chests calm to a natural pace, he collapses on top of her, arms willing their way between her and the mattress to gather her into a tender embrace. She scratches the back of his head and sighs contently.

“To think we could’ve been doing that for,” and she counts the years on each one of her fingers.

Harry chuckles in between her breasts, then reaches up and plants a quick but sweet kiss to her lips. “How long are you going to be holding onto that one?” She pretends to think, her mouth quirking to the side as her brows furrow in contemplation. “Until we make up for all that wasted time.”

***

“I got you something.” She looks up at him, her body still wrapped in his arms as they lay naked in his bed. Memories of what feels like another life flip through her head.

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?”

Smiling, she kisses enthusiastically and nods her head. He gets up, and she has to stop herself from frowning when they lose all contact. She sinks into the sheets and waits impatiently for him to come back. Listening to him rummage through his closet, then to the growling of her tummy–and she makes a quick mental note to ask him to order something for them in a while––she tries to relive every detail from the last few hours in her head. She didn’t know that sex was supposed to feel so good.

“You told me that you hadn’t drawn in almost ten years,” he states, making his way back to the bed, but this time, with a bag clutched in his hands. He places it in her lap, then slips between her and the headboard, arms going back to their initial position. “Maybe it’s time you started back up.”

Y/n opens the enclosed wrappings. Inside the bag is a new sketchbook and a carton of 9H pencils. She carefully grazes her fingers above them. There’s a feeling in her chest, like she’s just been reunited with an old friend.

“But what would I even draw?” She’d lost all sight of that part of her life, and it seems unlikely that those creative juices will just come trickling back to her now.

Harry kisses the side of her head, and she leans into him easily.

“Whatever inspires you.”

It’s just that easy. She closes her eyes and reflects on what has always made her feel any bit positive. Ava and her bluntness; her dad and his sense of duty to his family; Nan and Gramps and their playful bickering; Nan and her proclivity for gossip; Gramps and his hatred for ties. All of them had been a comfort to her, even when she hadn’t realized it. They were part of what had kept her afloat.

Feeling Harry’s heartbeat press up against her back, she knows that she’ll never have to worry about drowning. She opens her sketchbook to its first clean page and lets herself be happy.

***

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Jared says, offering her a modest grin. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t want to.” Penny nods beside him. Jared had texted her and asked if she would meet them for lunch, so that they could talk. At first, Y/n didn’t think that necessary. What was the point when it was all out in the open now? But with some convincing from Harry, she realized that she had to confront this.

“There’s no moving on if we don’t talk about it.” Y/n takes the seat across from Penny. She looks at the girl she’d consider a sister, studying her rounded and healthier features. Pregnancy looks good on her. “You look good.”

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

They talk about everything, even the stuff that feels like it should hurt. But it doesn’t. Clarity exists where it hadn’t before. She tells them that about Harry, and apparently it isn’t much of a shock to anyone, which shocks her. Jared then admits to having had all these doubts about their relationship but had stuck through it because of his own insecurities. That had had hit close to home for Y/n. It’s somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t been the only one who felt that what they had was temperamental.

“You were there for me when I was at my worst, and for that, I’ll always love you,” Jared sighs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But...”

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

He nods sadly, pulling back. His other arm is around Penny’s chair, and Y/n can see his fingers playing with the ends of her ponytail.

Penny must notice this, and she quickly shrugs him away. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Y/n shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she waves it off. “This was good. At least now we can all carry on with our lives.” She gets out of her chair. “Good luck,” she says to the both of them. Then she looks directly at Penny. “I know you’re worried about making all the same mistakes as your mum, but...” she smiles, “someone said to me that mistakes aren’t genetic. I know you. And I know how much you love your baby. Just promise me you’ll be there for her.”

With that she turns towards the exit. Before she can get far, however, she feels a hand grab her own. She looks back, and it’s Penny. Her eyes are teary, and her chest lifts erratically. “Do you think that...” she swallows, “...that you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Do I still get to be called auntie?”

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

Y/n touches her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Then, one day.”

She walks out of there feeling completely at peace with herself.

***

Two Years Later

The newest exhibit proves to be a hit. It’s smaller than its predecessors, this time only containing the work from a single artist.

She and Harry walk hand-in-hand, greeting all of guests and just enjoying each other’s company. Gramps isn’t moping as much as he usually does, and she thinks it’s because Nan’s bought him a clip-on tie that doesn’t strangle him around the neck. Ava and Nan are gossiping with some potential investors, while her dad tries to apologize on their behalf.

On the other side, her mum and Lawrence discuss color theory in relation to one of the spotlight pieces. She catches a glimpse of the civility between her parents when they catch each other’s eyes from across the room.

“I think it’s the gallery’s best showcase yet,” Harry tells her and kisses her on the lips. “Really, I don’t see how anything might top this.”

Y/n laughs. “You’re just trying to get laid.”

Harry wags his eyebrows. “Is it working?” She doesn’t need to give him an answer with words, so instead, she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket and their lips meet in another sweet kiss.

They stop in front of the piece in the very back, the one that’s drawn in the most viewers. They squeeze through the polluted crowd until they’re close enough to the front. He wraps his arms around her, and they both admire its beauty.

Two kids laid out on the grass; eyes closed with content smiles on their faces. The sky above them, a product of their combined imaginations as well as the excitement of hopes and dreams.

Below the canvas is a placcard with the painting’s information.

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

#harry styles #harry style imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles au #one direction #writing

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geekgirles · 3 years ago

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 8 -- Aftershocks

Word Count: 13482

READ ON AO3

Margaret’s quarters had to be one of the most glamourous in the entire manor. Designed to be a duplex, it consisted of two different spacesーthree, if you count the bathroomーthe lower floor held the living room, and the higher one was where the Council member’s actual bedroom was.

The living room resembled that of a wealthy family’s. A deep red velvet hue gave a touch of colour to the walls, which were decorated by several portraits revealing pieces of contemporary art. Now, Sam loved going to museums and culture in general, but she couldn’t identify what the artists had tried to portray to save her life. When asking about the meaning of one of the paintings, Margaret once told her it was an allegory to the passage of time. How could a smear of red, a blue smudge, and a black, straight line mean any of that she had no idea.

Questionable taste in decor aside, Margaret’s quarters also consisted of a parquet flooring that always seemed to have been recently varnished, so shiny and clean one could eat from it. Just from a small glimpse at her room, one could guess the older witch had a weakness for rococo furniture; a set of golden couches and chairs with cream upholstery was scattered around the place. A backless seat was in front of the piano at the far corner of the room, a loveseat could be seen located under a particularly large painting, Sam and Margaret were both seated, one in front of the other, on two chairs…

Ironically for someone as elegant and graceful as Margaret, all her plants were made of plastic. Grandma Ida had once told her in confidence the clan’s best spellcaster was also the worst gardener she’d ever seen. According to her grandma, when Margaret was still just a witch in training her teachers ended up forbidding her from getting near to their supplies of mandrake; she always killed them all and the plant was very difficult to find.

At the far corner of the room, to the side of the piano, a white staircase with a golden banister led to the Council member’s room. What secrets her bedroom held, however, Sam didn’t know. Margaret was very particular about who she let in on her personal life, and bedrooms were extremely personal.

Which was enough of a hint to understand she hadn’t been called just to chat and have some tea with her. “Your Majesty,” Margaret broke her out of her musings and from inspecting her personal chambers, “I understand you already know why I have summoned you here, correct?”

Even when she was about to scold her, the older witch always looked like the epitome of grace and dignity. They were currently seated on two of her rococo chairs, which Sam had to admit, were pretty but not necessarily comfortable; a coffee table with a porcelain tea set alongside different types of biscuits, scones (a favourite of Margaret since she spent some time abroad in London in her youth), and sandwiches were in full display in between the two.

Knowing how seriously Margaret took table manners, Sam put her teacup on its respective plate before delicately placing both down on the coffee table. “I have an inkling as to why that might be.”

The African-American woman’s perfect posture never faltered. “In that case, I will get straight to the point: sending Miss Baker and Miss Zhou back home while you were left alone with the Ghost King was unbelievably unwise.”

Sam couldn’t help but wince when Margaret’s forest green eyes laid on her, an icy quality to them. “I understand your concern, Margaret, believe me, I do, but…”

“‘But?’” Margaret cut her off, raising an eyebrow as her cup of tea was halfway to her mouth. “Your Majesty, in case you forgot, you are our queen. Amity Park clan’s leader. Dozens of women depend on you for guidance. Your sole presence keeps us from going to war over the throne!”

Unable to hear the same things over and over, the young queen turned her head to the side, as if pained by her words. “I know, I know.” She raised a hand to silence her. “Margaret, you needn’t remind me the very reason why I even stepped up to become queen. Keeping the clan from succumbing to chaos and honouring my grandmother are my main motivations for everything I do.”

“You and me both know that, my Queen.” Margaret conceded, stirring her second cup of tea. “But that does not change the fact that what you did was foolish. However, I also know that you never do anything without reason, so I am willing to hear it.”

With a gesture of her hand, she motioned for Sam to explain herself. Sighing, the violet-eyed girl did just that. “I know my life is precious, but the circumstances were dire and even now I can’t shake the feeling that it’s a miracle I’m even alive.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty. But I fail to see how that is helping your case.” The green-eyed woman pointed out. Deep down she knew Sam probably had a good reason for doing what she did, but as second-in-command, it was her duty to ensure their queen never made a mistake like that ever again.

“I’m getting there, I promise.” Sam hastily said.

With a nod, Margaret gestured for her to continue. “I don’t feel comfortable putting my safety before others’ just because of my position.” She finished, and even Margaret’s stoic mask cracked a little at the revelation. “Stephanie and Susan were with me, Margaret. They were in as much danger as I was, I couldn’t risk their lives like that.”

“Miss Zhou and Miss Baker both volunteered to escort you to your visits to the Ghost Zone, your Majesty.” Her fellow Council member reminded her in between sips. “Had anything happened to them, they were just doing their job.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing their loyalty would force them to pay such a high price.”

Margaret was about to take another sip of her tea when Sam’s solemn words made her eyes widen. Looking over at her, she noticed her tense posture, her stiff shoulders, her slim fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her black and purple plaid skirt...And the resolution in her eyes. The older witch could’ve sworn she saw the same fire that was so characteristic of her grandmother in Sam’s violet gaze.

Unaware of the reaction she’d caused to the woman in front of her, Sam went on. “I’m the queen, Margaret. It’s my duty to make sure our people are safe. How do you expect me to just leave them behind, not knowing if they’ll even make it alive!? Even if the black hole had been taken care of without my assistance and they would’ve been safe from it, how do we know the ghosts wouldn’t have taken advantage of the chaos to attack them?!

“Even if I have a feeling King Phantom would’ve tried to protect them, it was still too risky. I would never have been able to live with myself if anything had happened to them because, somehow, my life’s more important than theirs!”

Setting her now cold teacup down, the African-American witch clasped her hands together on her lap. She regarded the young queen with a face that betrayed no emotion. “Your Majesty, you do realise every single one of your points can also be applied to your own situation, right? Just like Miss Baker and Miss Zhou could have been in danger at the hands of the ghosts, so could have you. Except an attempt against your life would be grounds for going to war.”

Knowing she was right, Sam averted her gaze to the side. Suddenly that one painting with the impossible-to-understand analogy on the passage of time seemed much more interesting than ten minutes ago.

Margaret sighed as she stood up. Her high heels clicking against the parquet, she hovered over Sam, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Samantha, I know choosing what is best for our people is hard, especially if it comes into conflict with our personal beliefs and desires, but duty must come first.”

The young sorceress started at the sound of her full name. She really hated being called ‘Samantha’, but knew that was the most personal Margaret would ever get with her, so it'd only be rude of her to complain. “I know,” she sighed dejectedly. “I know, it’s just...I can’t just do that to them! Susan is still just a teenager; no matter how good of a potion-maker and warrior she is, she’s still too young. She has so much to live, I can’t afford to make her miss out on all that for my sake…”

“But what about Miss Baker? I believe you two are the same age; you both still have so much to live, as well.”

“You mean Stephanie still has so much to live for. I gave up on that a long time ago…” Sam couldn’t resist the urge to scoff.

Even if all witches had to make compromises to balance their lives inside and outside of the coven, Sam’s entire life had revolved around giving up on one passion after the other. Growing up she couldn’t make friends because other girls weren’t allowed to go near the queen’s granddaughter. Her world was reduced to the manor and her house, to her family and her teachers, to her lessons and the very scarce moments where she could pretend she was a kid like any other. After her grandma died, under the threat of her coven falling into anarchy until they found a new leader, she sacrificed her one chance at a relatively normal life in exchange of being elected the future queen. For four years her extensive studying and isolation were self-imposed; the only times she allowed herself to take a break where her birthday ーso her dad wouldn’t get suspicious as to what was so important she couldn’t celebrate her own birthdayーand the anniversary of her grandma’s death; because there was no way she’d ever have the energy to work on the most painful day of the year. And now that she was queen, every waking moment was dedicated to looking after her people.

Stephanie was just a shy girl who loved books. Between the two of them, she was the only one who really had a chance at experiencing life outside of the manor’s walls. And Sam refused to be the reason why she lost that chance.

Understanding dawning on her, Margaret’s face softened. “Your motives were noble, my Queen, and I am sure the Baker and Zhou families are extremely grateful for having their children returned to them. Just try to keep in mind that with great power comes great responsibility, and more often than not, that means making sacrifices for the greater good.”

As the spellcaster went back to her chair, Sam could only stare after her like she’d just nonchalantly revealed the meaning of life to her. “...did you just quote Spider-Man?”

Picking her teacup back up, she just chuckled in amusement. “I am a woman of culture, your Majesty. Now, pour yourself another cup of tea or help yourself to some snacks, before it gets cold.”

Reaching over for the kettle to pour some more tea on her cup at the same time as she started munching on a vegetarian sandwich, a comfortable silence settled between them. The only sounds disturbing the quiet atmosphere were the occasional sound of sipping and of plates clattering. In the midst of the silence, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but race back to the moment right after Phantom stopped the blackhole.

She wasn’t lying when she told Margaret she believed he wouldn’t have let anything happen to Susan and Stephanie, for her own protection seemed to be one of his top priorities. That and their last interaction before she returned to Earth had been replaying inside her head over the last several hours.

As she and Phantom stared at each other, unbeknownst to them, both thinking that they could indeed make things work as long as they worked together, Sam’s mind unexpectedly wandered to uncharted territory. Now that she was looking at him up close, a part of her had to agree with all the fangirls who’d squeal every time Phantom appeared on TV; he was quite handsome.

It was undeniable that the Ghost King’s defined physique was anything but hard on the eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but something about himーmaybe the inches he had on her, or maybe the way he’d pressed her close to his chest earlier when he was trying to put her to safety, or maybe the intensity of his neon green eyesーmade her feel safe.

Now that they weren’t separated by a large table and a few feets of distance, Sam could appreciate his chiseled jaw and how his Adam’s apple moved up and down when he gulped, sending a heatwave straight to her very core. His intoxicating eyes no longer looked at her with suspicion and disdain, but with gratefulness and with a candour whose origins she couldn’t quite identify, and at that very moment she was sure nothing would’ve been able to get her to tear her own violet gaze away from them. His shock-white hair alongside his characteristically ghostly glowーthat glow she used to interpret as a warning sign; a reminder of his true natureーall of a sudden made him look ethereal, otherworldly. Like a guardian from beyond sent to protect everyone from evil. Like...Like…

Like an angel.

And his lips...Oh, God. They were so inviting. The mere thought of kissing those lips was incredibly exhilarating. From where she stood, Sam could already imagine his lips on hers, coming together in a slow, passionate dance; their touch so rough and yet so gentle; both breathing her to life and leaving her breathless; and the way he was moving them at that very moment only helped in further cementing her beliefsーwait a minute. They were moving?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, shaking her hands before her and already feeling the scorching heat on her cheeks. She barely resisted the urge to facepalm herself. What was she thinking?! Drooling over Phantom? Fantasising with kissing him?! Did she lose her mind?! Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she originally believedーshe was still debating on itーbut he was still a ghost. And ghosts and witches didn’t mix, especially like that. Hell, not even when they were still allies did a ghost and a witch ever end up together!

Noticing the Ghost King staring at her quizzically, the witch cleared her throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly.

Phantom’s eyes shot open at that. “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Sam told him, missing the way his eyes softened at her words. She put a little distance between the two, ready to cast the spell that would send her home, when Phantom’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of herself, the young witch couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

The relieved expression he sent her way sent her heart aflutter. Feeling the blush coming back, she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” Again, she was getting ready to leave when Phantom’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, Lady Arcana!”

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

Against her better judgement, Sam’s expression softened. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

She could almost feel how every individual cell in her body separated before being rearranged again. The tingling sensation was similar to when she’d phased through Phantom’s lair, except it was warm rather than chilly. Spellcasting felt like being cocooned in a thousand blankets inside your home during a particularly cold winter night, while the sensation brought by ghost powers was akin to sticking your head into the freezer when it was 104 º outside.

Both experiences were incredibly pleasant, albeit drastically different from one another.

When Sam opened her eyes, everything was mayhem.

She’d arrived in the middle of the Grand Hall inside 917 Maplestreet, and every single witch present was looking straight at her. Judging from their positionsーsome had risen from their seats, their hands slamming the tables; others had their arms raised as if making suggestions or waiting for their turns to speak up; a few were arguing amongst themselves…ー, she’d just interrupted a council meeting. Most likely to discuss her current situation.

Oh, great.

“Your Majesty!” A voice cried out, and Sam almost fell back upon impact, for someone had slammed into her chest with great force, almost knocking the wind out of her.

Looking down, she realised the iron grip she suddenly found herself in belonged to none other than Susan. The poor thing was sobbing and hiccuping uncontrollably against her chest. Automatically, Sam put her own arms around her in an attempt to sooth her. With how fierce and disciplined she usually was, it was easy to forget she was, technically, still a kid. She had much to learn before she became completely desensitised to the world’s horrors.

“It’s fine, Susan.” The queen soothed, caressing her hair. “I’m fine.”

Right at that moment, the room erupted in a row of applause and cheering, alongside many questions directed her way. Before Sam could so much as tell them to speak one at a time, she felt something being discreetly slipped under her dress. Turning her head to the side in surprise, she found herself face to face with Stephanie. “Welcome home, your Majesty. I am so glad you have returned.”

When the strawberry blonde winked at her, Sam understood everything. Steph had taken advantage of the current chaos, and of her tied up skirt, to return Arcana’s Grimoire to her. Sam couldn’t help but smile; she was worth much more than people often gave her credit for.

Paulina and Star almost tripped over themselves trying to reach her. Rushing to her side, both simultaneously looking panicked and relieved beyond belief, the moment they reached her side they started fussing about her personal care, promising to prepare a warm bubble bath immediately.

“Your Majesty!” Paulina exclaimed in between pants, “You have no idea how glad we are that you’re back!”

“Totally,” Star agreed beside her friend, nodding but equally winded. “One minute Pauli was trash-talking Ms. Gorilla, and the next news reached us that you hadn’t returned from the Ghost Zone!”

“I’m sorry,” a sultry voice from behind startled them, while Sam shook her head in pity, anticipating what was to come, “you were doing what?” Delilah asked the two ladies-in-waiting sharply, her unforgiving eyes narrowed on them.

The Witch Queen could only roll her eyes knowingly at the way Paulina and Star flinched upon noticing the shapeshifter heard them. ‘Ms. Gorilla’, as Star helpfully supplied when they were assigned to her upon becoming the clan leader, was a moniker Paulina had come up with at the height of her jealousy towards the stunning Council member. Sam, despite her love for animals and nature, hadn’t noticed until they pointed it out, but Delilah shared her name with the famous Purple Back Gorilla that was discovered to be female by a high school student working on extra credit back when she was fourteen.

The thing is, as good-natured and laid-back as Delilah could be, she did not appreciate being compared to such a majestic creature. “I’m waiting, Miss Anderson. What did you say you were doing before you heard the news?”

From where she stood, still being held by Susan’s iron grip, Sam could see how Star was beginning to sweat. The blonde usually didn’t have trouble saying what she thought of others, even if it was mean-spirited or uncalled for, but even she knew it was foolish to anger another witch, especially when her position was much higher than hers.

Squirming under the shapeshifter’s harsh glare, the handmaiden couldn’t do anything but stutter. “Uh...um...w-well...we...we were…and the...the gorilla...b-but then...” She trailed off, luckily for her, Paulina chose that very moment to jump in on the conversation.

“We were just talking about the new gorilla-inspired fashion collection!” The Latina lied and, if you listened closely, you could hear the way her already pronounced accent thickened. Paulina was a good liar, but even she sometimes had trouble working under pressure. “It’s absolutely fabulous! Almost as much as your blouse,” she complimented as she reached out to touch the fabric, “Is it new?”

Unamused, Delilah decided against pushing the issue...for now. Gently swatting the Latina’s hand away from her clothes, she directed a much kinder expression towards Sam. “It’s good to have you back, my Queen. We were worried sick for your safety.”

The violet-eyed queen smiled in return. “It’s good to be back.”

Suddenly, an imposing voice made itself heard from the other side of the room. Heads snapping to the origin of the sound, everyone’s eyes landed on Margaret standing with her hands behind her back by the entrance. She looked as poised and collected as usual.

Somehow, Sam knew she was in for a world of trouble.

“Your Majesty,” Margaret began, and her voice commanded such respect a pin drop could be heard in the middle of the previously loud room, “you have no idea how grateful we are for your safe return. If what Miss Zhou and Miss Baker told us is true,” both witches at her side sent their queen an apologetic look, “then you must be exhausted. Please, after you’re well-rested, come tomorrow to my personal chambers.” She ordered, because she didn’t even ask for an answer, before turning away. Just as she was about to leave the room, she called out over her shoulder, “We have much to discuss.”

Oh, yeah. She was indubitably, thoroughly screwed.

Her instincts were proven correct the moment she was given the third degree by the woman in front of her. As she pondered Margaret’s previous words, however, a question materialised itself inside Sam’s mind.

Furrowing her brow, she called out to her fellow Council member. “Margaret?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“You said we more often than not have to make sacrifices in the name of the greater good, even if it goes against our personal beliefs and desires…” she started carefully, looking down at her cup. “Have you ever had to sacrifice something you cared deeply about or wanted desperately for the sake of the coven?”

For a moment, the silence had returned, only it now hung heavily over them, when just a few minutes it’d been comfortable. After a few minutes had passed and she still received no answer, Sam was about to ask again when Margaret finally answered. “Yes, I have.”

Her head shooting at her uncharacteristically lifeless voice, Sam almost gasped. Before her, Margaret wore the saddest expression she’d ever seen of her face. Her deep, green eyes, usually so vibrant and full of colour, were now bleak and devastated, reminiscent of a forest after a wildfire. The otherwise calm and collected Council member now looked heartbroken and desolate, like a piece of her was missing. Margaret certainly wasn’t crying, but she seemed so miserable Sam could feel tears of her own stinging her eyes.

“I...I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh...right! O-of course. Don’t worry.” The lavender-eyed witch hastily said, too shell shocked to be more eloquent. Margaret never used contractions when talking to her.

Margaret acknowledged her with a respectful nod of her head. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Then she went back to drinking her tea.

Deciding it’d be best to imitate her and pretend nothing had happened, Sam couldn't help but wonder what might’ve happened to Margaret to make her so miserable. But above all else, she could only hope she’d never have to sacrifice the same thing. Somehow, she had a feeling death would be less painful.

...........

The forest in the outskirts of Amity Park could be described as anything but a walk in the park. The tree trunks knotted and twisted, forming shapes made out of the stuff of nightmares. The wind rustling the leaves sounded like a ghostly wail, not unlike Danny’s, albeit much quieter. That only made it more sinister. And the sound of twigs, dead leaves, and fallen tree branches crunching beneath had him frantically looking around for the slightest sign of danger. Since it was mid-October, nearing Halloween, the weather was beginning to change as well. For instance, temperatures were starting to drop from the cool yet warm ones that reigned during late September, and the first fall rainstorm hit the town just the night before.

And since it’d just rained the night before, that meant Tucker was now stepping on mud. He was stepping on mud with his new boots on. He was stepping on mud and getting his new boots that cost him a fortune, mind you, dirty. Already irritated and spooked beyond belief, he called out to the person walking in front of him, “Care to remind me why the fuck I didn’t turn you down on your invitation to, and I quote, ‘a fun fieldtrip?’”

Stopping momentarily to look over her shoulder, Jazz scolded him, “Language.” With that out of the way, she turned her head back around and kept on walking through the forest. “And to answer your question, you agreed to come with me because you want to help Danny as much as I do.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, taking advantage of her back, turned to him, and followed her close behind. “Yeah, that I know. What I mean to say is, how is hiking aimlessly around the woods going to do anything to help Danny?!”

They’d been trekking around that damned forest for three hours, with absolutely nothing to guide them but an old, probably outdated, map some ranger had given to Jazz back at the information booth. Three hours wandering around a forest that was creepier than Mr. Lancer’s ‘sculptured summer physique’ back in summer camp, and the most resting they’d done was when Jazz would suddenly halt to check the map or crouch down to get some samples.

Just like she was doing at that very moment. “Look at this, Tucker. Ocimum basilicum!” She reached her hand out to show it to him before putting it inside a little glass jar. She brought the jar close to her face. “Did you know in Christianity this plant is said to have sprouted when Jesus’ blood fell to the ground?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” The technopath said, unimpressed. “What I do know is that Ocimum basilicum and basil are the exact same thing! Care to tell me why you’re so transfixed on a mere spice? As much as I love myself a good pizza, even I have to admit this is just ridiculous.”

Sliding her backpack across her shoulder, the redhead put away the basil. With that taken care of, she sent her friend a bored look, standing up from the floor and coming to stand beside him. “It’s important because it’sー.”

“‘It’s going to help Danny.’” Tucker finished for her, doing a poor impression of her voice. “You said that over a million times already! Can you at least tell me how it’s going to help Danny?”

Jazz looked away, sulking. “Because...because it just is, okay?! Trust me, Tucker, I know what I’m doing.”

But the African American young man wasn’t buying it. That answer was far too childish, especially coming from someone like Jazz, who’d been acting like someone twice her age for almost as long as he could remember. Something was definitely off.

“But what could it be?” He asked himself as they resumed their march. She said she knew what she was doing, and that was all great and dandy, except he had no idea what they were doing! He was the technician of the team, his specialty were computers, viruses, and thwarting technology-dependent ghosts’ plans! He was not made to hike, looking for God knows what, in the middle of a forest!

And Jazz?! He barely held back a scoff. No matter how much more physically adept than him she was, the eldest Fenton was no field agent, either. For years, her way of assisting Danny in ghost-hunting had been through research, bringing back-up,helping work out the tricky details in their plans, now she was obsessed with finding out more about the witches…

Wait a minute.

Tucker stopped dead in his tracks, fists curled at his sides and a very angry glare directed at the back of the head of his best friend’s older sister appeared on his face. “You dragged me here to help you research witches and avoid Danny’s wrath.”

It wasn’t a question and she knew it. Wincing at the, accurate, accusation, the redhead turned around slowly. “I...I have no idea what you’re talking about…” She tried playing dumb.

In an instant, Tucker got in her face, wagging a chastising finger at her. “Oh, don’t you dare play innocent, little missy! You might have been able to fool your parents all these years, but that’s only because they’re surprisingly gullible. You can’t fool me; we’re here to research witches aren’t we?”

Looking down on the floor, Jazz ultimately gave in, sighing. “Yes, we are.”

“And I’m guessing Danny knows nothing about this which is why; first, you went out of your way to organise this on my free day, which, for the record, also happens to be the day Danny’s schedule is packed; second, you wouldn’t tell me why we’re here; and third, you’re just picking random things up, because not even you know what you’re looking for.”

She bit her lip, knowing she’d been caught. She always forgot how observant Tucker could be. “Maybe?”

“Jazz!”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?!” She snapped. “I know I shouldn’t have lied to you or Danny, but I just can’t sit idly by and watch as he enters the lion’s den, completely unprepared!” She stepped closer to Tucker, looking him dead in the eye. “You know Danny, Tucker. He shoulders everything and refuses to let us help. Please, you have to understand; I have to help my little brother.”

Looking down at her pleading eyes, the techno geek’s own teal orbs softened. He did understand. He really wished Danny would let them help more often. It was just painful watching him come back looking like death, knowing he’d been sticking his neck out for a town that didn’t always appreciate him, and not being able to do much because even then he was protecting them.

It was maddening, really.

Sighing, he grabbed Jazz by her shoulders, trying to show her just how much he understood her plight. “Listen, I know how you feel. You know I know how you feel. But we gotta make sure us going behind Danny’s back will really be for his own good. We can’t just wander aimlessly with no real plan in mind! Never mind how good our intentions are.” Seeing as she only stared at him, unblinkingly, he sighed and let her go. “Face it, Jazz. We’re about as lost as Danny when it comes to witches.”

He was sure what he said would be discouraging, hence why he didn’t understand the way her eyes lit up. “That’s where you’re wrong!” She exclaimed just as she started rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds, she pulled a book out. “This is a book on plants, arthropods, and other ingredients traditionally used by witches in folklore. If we find a place where many of said ingredients grow or inhabit, we might know where to find them!”

“Right…” he drawled, he should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to keep Jazz from her goal. “Because there’s no way a group of women from the 21st century have learned to grow or breed those things from the comfort of their homes.” He deadpanned in response. “Is that why we’re here? To look for a bunch of plants and insects?”

Her right hand still clutching the book close to her chest, the other hand fisted on her hip, Jazz sent him an irritated look. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking the witches’ lair could actually be around here.”

Tucker’s brows shot up at that. “What makes you think that?”

“Because it’s tradition!” She exclaimed, before pulling her phone out of her pocket and shoving it in his face. “Did you know Baba Yaga was said to inhabit the Russian forests?”

Glaring at her, he carefully got her phone out of his face. “Yeah...She was also said to be an old hag, with a blue nose, and a bone leg. Pretty sure the Witch Queen Danny meets up with is supposed to be quite the looker. So, try something else.”

Jazz pouted, before trying to come up with a theory that would please him. “Well, what if there are Russian witches in Amity Park? Maybe they stayed true to tradition, taking advantage of the locals’ ignorance to remain inconspicuous.”

“Nice theory,” he clapped sarcastically, “only one tiny, itsy, bitsy detail, though. I doubt the Cold War made it easy for Russian witches to move to the USA. Instead of putting them up to trial for being witches, they’d have been accused of being spies.”

She was beginning to get frustrated with Tucker’s lack of cooperation. Groaning, she snapped. “What do you suggest we do, then?!”

“How about get back to civilisation and forget all about this silly quest, huh?!” He snapped back, dramatically flailing his arms in the air in exasperation. Seriously, were all Fentons supposed to be stubborn to the point of idiocy? Didn’t they understand some things weren’t worth falling-outs and even their lives? He loved that family to death, but if he was going to die for them, he at least would like it to be because of something useful.

Jazz just kept staring back at him, frowning in annoyance, before turning away from him in a huff. Tucker was about to call her out on her behaviour when she beat him to it. “I know I’m being difficult. I know I’m looking for things that aren’t there, but I just need to help Danny!” She whirled back around to look him in the eye, desperation clearly laced in her voice. “Please, Tucker. You have to understand.”

“Uh, no. Not that! Anything but that!” He cried, frantically covering his eyes with his hands. She was pleading, giving him the trademark Fenton, sad, puppy-dog look. The damned thing was so effective he was genuinely surprised it didn’t count as a persuasion technique. Peeking through his fingers, he chanced to look, only to close his eyes shut not long after. Nope, she was still doing that look.

With a dismayed moan, he gave in after a while. “Fiiiiiine!” He groaned, only to subsequently send a glare at Jazz’s direction when he saw her fist-bumping from the corner of his eye. He quickly squared his posture, jabbing his finger against her chest. “But if Danny busts us, you’re explaining things to him!”

He so hated the way she was beaming at him, completely ignoring his threat. “No problem!” She then slapped his hand away, causing him to let out a sound of complaint. The grin had been replaced by an irritated frown. “If you ever touch my chest again, though, I’m going to blast you with the Fenton Ghost Peeler until your skin falls off and only your non-existent muscles remain.”

“Hey!” He began to protest against her comment, only to back-pedal when she sent him a withering glare in warning. “No touching your chest ever again. Got it.” He smiled sheepishly at her. When that seemed to please her, she turned her focus on her book, prompting Tucker to ask. “So, what now?”

“Now we look for evidence that proves the witches of Amity Park visit this place.” She replied, not looking up from her book.

“No, I got that. I mean how are we going to do that?”

“Well, if witches really do need certain ingredients for their spells and potions, then I’d suggest we look for things that could possibly grow around here.” Jazz kept reading the paragraphs detailed in her book, turning pages at the speed of lightning. Stopping at a certain page, she tapped her chin with one finger as she pondered their options before showing the book to Tucker. “Do you think we could find some newts around here? They’re said to have been highly demanded as an ingredient for their eyes.”

Taking a look at the slimy creature pictured in the book, the techno geek recoiled in disgust. He couldn’t hold back a shudder before regaining his composure. “First of all,” he lifted his index finger in the air, “the closest lake in the area is Lake Eerie, a good three hours away from here. So I highly doubt we’ll be finding any newts any time soon.” He fiddled with his PDA before showing it to her, a map appearing on the screen. “And second, even if there were any lakes around here, there’s no way I’m gonna touch an amphibian. I’m a techno geek, not a biology geek. If you want help collecting those little guys, you’re going to have to ask Sam for help.”

That perked the redhead’s interest. “You mean the Manson heiress?” She asked, not missing a beat. Even if the topic of conversation had changed greatly, her focus was still on her book. If newts weren’t an option, something else had to be. She just had to find it. “Is it me, or is there something going on between her and Danny?”

Not one to resist some good gossip, especially when it was related to Danny’s love life, Tucker leaned in closer to Jazz, as if he were about to share a conspiratorial theory with her. “Oh, something is definitely going on. I haven’t seen Danny act so comfortably yet bashful around a girl since Valerie. As for Sam, let’s just say I don’t usually see her with other guys. Period. As a matter of fact…” Eyes snapping open, he trailed off. What Jazz had said about Sam finally catching up to him.

The psychology understudy looked over at him in concern. Unlike her friend, she wasn’t one to gossip, but her little brother’s mental health and social life was something she cared deeply about. Moreso because the two aspects tended to go hand in hand. “Uh, Tucker? Is everything okay?”

“What did you just say?” He practically mumbled in a voice so low Jazz had to strain her ears to hear him.

“Um,” she stammered, “I said, ‘is everything okay?’”

“No, no.” The African American man shook his head and hands, indicating that wasn’t what he meant. “Before that.”

“I literally said ‘uh, Tucker.’” She repeated, looking at him like he’d grown a second head or something. Did a branch fall on his head while they were hiking and she hadn’t noticed?

Oh, for the love of God...This was getting ridiculous! Did he have to spell it out for her? Scrubbing his face with one hand, growing frustrated, he tried one last time. “No, Jazz.” He gritted out as gently as possible. “I’m asking what you called Sam earlier.”

“You mean when I said ‘the Manson heiress?’” She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yes, that!” He exclaimed, before returning Jazz’s confused expression with one of his own. “What do you mean by that?”

“You really don’t know?” She asked in disbelief. Considering that, no, he really had no idea what she was even talking about, the technophile could only shake his head and wait for answers. “Oh! Wow...So turns out Danny isn’t the only person in Amity Park who doesn’t know!” She meant to mutter that part to herself, but her disbelief was so great she forgot to lower her voice, causing Tucker to hear her just fine.

He didn’t know why, but the moment the Fenton girl’s aqua eyes landed on him, Tucker couldn’t help but feel he was being regarded with pity. The fact that she nervously rubbed her arm holding the book up and down while avoiding his gaze didn’t help matters any. “Um, you see...You know Sam’s name, right?”

That made him furrow his brow, not quite following. “Obviously,” he scoffed. “Her name’s Sam Manson. But how come her ID makes her an heiress?!”

“Because she’s not just a Manson,” Jazz corrected him gently, “she’s the only child of the Mansons.”

“Are you saying she’s related to that psycho serial killer?” He squeaked, rightfully freaked out. Deep down, however, he knew that couldn’t be right. Sure, Sam had a spooky taste in...everything, really. But she would never hurtーno, wait a minute. She could definitely inflict pain on others through elaborate and well-thought schemes. But she just couldn’t be related to a serial killer!

...or could she?

“What?!” The redhead gasped. “No, of course not! I’m saying she’s related to the Manson family,” when he was about to comment further, she stopped him with a raised hand, “as in, the descendants of Izzy Manson,” she stressed, annoyed; “the creator of the cellophane-wrapping machine used for chopsticks.”

Growing frustrated at Tucker’s blank face, she made an indecipherable sound at the back of her throat before snapping. “Darn it, Tucker! Rich, I’m saying she’s filthy, stinking rich!” She rolled her eyes when the techno geek’s jaw almost touched the floor. “Gosh! I swear, you’re even more hopeless than Danny!”

“Wait a minute, Sam is rich?!” He all but screeched. “How come she never told me?!”

Feeling sorry for him, she could only shrug in response, her previous aggravation gone. Honestly, she’d only met the girl once, and not even a prodigy like her would’ve been able to determine her thought process with just one session. “I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I’m a bit more surprised you never figured it out.”

That gave him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” she crossed her arms. How could she put this gently? “I mean, you’ve known her for a while, haven’t you?” Slowly, he nodded. “And you’re way more into the wealthy and powerful than Danny, and, come on, Sam’s an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian Goth.” She sent him a pointed look. “Goth clothing and vegetarian food aren’t cheap, you know.”

Tucker could only grimace, knowing she had a point. “I know who the Mansons are, but I’ve never seen Sam in any of the pictures taken of her family’s sophisticated parties. And, really, would you seriously take a look at her parents and go, ‘Yep, no doubt. These preppy, cheerful folks are definitely related to cynical, brooding Sam Manson.’” He defended himself, and judging by Jazz’s expression, he knew she concurred. Then, he added, almost as an afterthought, “And honestly, I legit thought she basically ate grass and mud, so…”

Sympathising with him, Jazz put a soothing hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly at him. At first he returned the gesture, before furrowing his brow in concentration. Something wasn’t right... “Wait, how do you know any of this? How do you even know Sam?”

“Ah, Danny and I ran into her and her dad last Saturday at that new Vegetarian Mexican restaurant.”

The bespectacled young man couldn’t do much but blink in astonishment. Then, suddenly, he let himself fall to his knees, crouching down before crossing his arms over his chest, pouting. “How can I possibly be that out of the loop?!”

Jazz flashed him a meek smile in response as she lowered herself to his level; literally. The tug in his lips turned into a full blown smirk as a devious thought came to him. “Was there UST between the two?”

The older girl let out a loud cackle at his question. “Oh, you have no idea!”

With a ‘hm’, he settled for a content smile that Jazz knew was only half-hearted. “That’s enough for me...for now.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jazz, trying to joke, but the way she was looking at him made it clear she didn’t buy his attempts to lighten up the mood.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, huh?” She offered softly. “You speak so fondly of her, and she seemed to know you well enough when we talked about you the other day. I’m sure she’ll come clean to you if you let her know you feel hurt over not knowing who she is.”

Normally he hated when Jazz psychoanalysed the situation, more so if it involved him. But now he couldn’t help but feel grateful for having the eldest Fenton’s advice and support. “Yeah, I...I think I’ll do that.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back, “You’re welcome.” The quiet atmosphere soon dissipated when she got back up on her feet as she dusted herself off. “Well, we’d better find something that’ll hint us on the witches’ hideout!”

Getting up from the ground as well, Tucker watched as Jazz pulled out the map from her backpack at the same time as she leafed through her book using just her thumb, that girl’s ability to multitask was both impressive and unnerving. She was clearly searching for a clue to get them started on their quest. Rolling his eyes fondly at her, he started fidgeting with his PDA, looking for clues of his own through the best way he knew; technology.

Printed books and maps were fine and all, but it didn’t take long for them to become outdated. With the Internet and his trusty PDA, Tucker always had the latest information in the palm of his hand. Literally. As his eyes scanned over dozens of articles from the day before to several decades prior, his eyes landed on one story in particular.

Gasping, he called out to Jazz. The girl looked up from her own research to see Tucker motioning for her to come closer with his hand. Curious, she did just that. The moment she was within touching distance, he handed the PDA to her. “Look!”

She squinted her eyes on the screen. What appeared was an old newspaper article, around thirty years old. When she read it over, however, her eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?” She whispered in disbelief, as she turned to Tucker, who was smirking.

“You’d better believe it!” Snatching the device from her hands, he began scrolling down and zooming in on certain fragments of the article. “It’s a news segment dedicated to two rangers’ retelling!” He exclaimed, his eyes not once looking away from the screen. “According to them, a few days before the interview with the newspaper, they were patrolling around the woods when they came upon what appeared to be a garden entirely made up of mandrake! Which took them aback because, first, that was a restricted area to the public; and second, mandrake usually grows in Mediterranean weather!

“Since it was getting late, they decided to investigate the following day first thing in the morning. But when they tried getting to the garden, they found they couldn’t. Somehow, whenever they thought they were getting closer, they kept getting lost and further away, something that was odd because they’d both been working as rangers, walking through the woods, for more than twenty years!” He finished, looking far more excited at the prospect of their research than he’d been before. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Her hands clasped in front of her beaming face, Jazz could only nod eagerly. “Mandrake is one of the plants that are most popularly associated with witches and magic, and the rangers kept getting lost because they’d found a patch of mandrake and the witches wanted to keep them away in order to protect their secret!”

“And you said Internet searches were only going to lead us to Satanist sites.” He flashed her a shit-eating grin, feeling proud of himself.

“Ugh, knock it off!” She playfully shoved him away, before growing serious again. Her joy being replaced by uncertainty. “Just a question, though?”

“What?”

“How are we going to find this mandrake patch? It’s been over thirty years! And if the witches were able to make two seasoned rangers wander aimlessly through the forest, what chances do we have of finding it ourselves?”

Tucker opened his mouth, only to close it again, realising he didn’t have an answer to her question. Yep, that could definitely be a problem. “Well, the rangers didn’t know they were facing off against a group of spellcasting women; we do.” He tried steering the conversation in the right direction. “What do we know about witches?” She was about to speak when he cut her off, “ Aside from the obvious.”

Bringing a fist to her chin, Jazz began to revise everything she’d learned on them ever since Danny shared his latest plan with them. “Hm, Danny said witches used to be able to summon ghosts from the Ghost Zone and make them cross over to Earth. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Hm, it might.” Tucker replied, the gears already turning in his head. “You know how every ghost has its own ecto-signature?”

“Yeah?”

“What if the witches have something like that?” He suggested, his mind already focused on the possibilities.

Jazz gasped, her eyes widening at the possibility. “Then maybe we could create our own version of the ghost radar, except that instead of ghosts, it’d latched onto a witch’s own signature!” She added, practically bouncing up and down.

“That way, we could lead the radar to someplace with a particularly strong magical signature, and therefore guide us to the mandrake patch without getting lost!” Tucker continued, equally excited.

“Which would then allow us to track any witch that comes to the garden.” Jazz said.

“And eventually lead us to their hideout!” Tucker finished. The two of them high-fived the other, reeling from the revelation. They were so hyped they almost forgot to address the most important part of the plan.

“So,” Tucker started, slipping his PDA back in his pocket. “What about Danny? Do we tell him about this?”

Against her better judgement, Jazz shook her head. “No. I believe it’d be best if we don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Arguably, this affects him much more than it does us.”

“I know, but we need to give him an edge over the witches. An ace up his sleeve! Something to use as leverage if the queen ultimately turns against him.” She explained. “Telling him of our plan before we even have a clue would only make things more difficult for him.” Noticing Tucker’s unsure expression, she rushed to reassure him. “I promise, the moment we know where they gather, we’ll tell him. Okay?”

Tucker didn’t look convinced. Excluding Danny in something this important just felt wrong! But, on second thought, Jazz was his older sister; she’d been taking care of and protecting him long before she learned about the accident. Jazz was always looking out for her baby brother’s best interests. Sighing, he gave in. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Tucker.” She grinned in appreciation before she looked down at her phone and noticed the time. “Now, come on! We still have to get back before Danny finishes his classes and notices we’re nowhere to be found. We don’t want him to get suspicious, do we?”

As he followed her back through the way they’d come from, Tucker could only hope their decision wouldn't bite them in the ass.

..........

“Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Because we needed to meet up and the You Mocha Me Crazy was closed today.” Tucker smirked smugly at her from the seat across from her; a mixture of grease and sauce dripping from his fingertips. “My, what a tragedy!” He lamented in mock sadness.

Her body leaned forward and her elbow propped up on the wobbly table, Sam sent him a nasty look. “Knock it off! You like the café and you know it.”

The techno geek shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll admit, they make good sandwiches. But nothing can beat my love for the Nasty Burger. It was about time I dragged you here for a change.”

Danny was sure the Goth girl was about to deliver a very colourful string of words their friend’s way hadn’t he intervened. “Remember, Sam,” he warned, putting a hand on her shoulder, making her look at him instead, “this is a kid-friendly space.” He took her huffing and crossing her arms over her chest as she slumped on her seat as a victory. “Look on the bright side,” he pointed at the trail of food in front of her, “at least they serve vegetarian menus.”

“It was a pleasant surprise.” She admitted, looking down at the tofu-soy melt she’d been served. “I honestly thought their only options would be a bunch of so-called salads with more meat than lettuce.” Picking the sandwich up, her face wrinkled in disgust when she brought it to her face. Averting her eyes, she promptly set it back down, before sliding the trail away from her. “That being said, that thing’s soggier than a quarterback’s socks after a football game.”

“Then it should be just like you like it!” The techno geek quipped, causing Sam to fling some of his own fries at him in retaliation. Tucker could’ve tried shielding his face from the assault, but that would've meant dropping his burger, leaving him no choice but to become an easy target. “You’re gonna pay for those fries.” He deadpanned, his scowl only deepened when the Goth girl blew him a raspberry in response.

“I believe it’d be more accurate to say football players’ socks are stiff after a game, giving the poor hygiene of the guys at our high school,” Danny pointed out matter-of-factly, trying to keep the peace between the two, before noticing the possible innuendo thanks to the help of Tucker and Sam’s meaningful looks. “But I get what you mean.” He finished lamely.

Changing her position so she was looking directly at him, her face leaning on the hand resting on the table, Sam raised an amused eyebrow in his direction. “No offence, Danny, but teenage boys aren’t exactly known for their impeccable hygiene.” With a noncommittal shrug she leaned back against her seat. “There isn’t much of a difference between you guys and pigs; you’re both more voracious than a pack of hyenas and your body odor is arguably stronger than a pig-pen’s stench.” She pinched her nose with her fingers for emphasis, the smirk never leaving her face.

Both guys seated with her shot her matching glares. “I resent that.” They said in unison, making her laugh.

“FYI, Sam,” Tucker said between bites of his Mega Meaty Nasty Burger, “Danny and I had to learn the wonders of personal hygiene much sooner than any other guy at our school.” Setting the remainder of his burger down on its trail, his arm resting close to it, he leaned closer to Sam, as if he were about to share a secret. “For all the cruel things the girls said about us behind our backsー”

“Or to our faces.” Danny reminded him with a pained mumble.

“Or to our faces.” Tucker agreed. “Despite everything, they never, not even once, complained about the way we smelled.” He leaned back against his seat with a triumphant grin, the burger already in his hands. “That’s way more than the jocks ever got.”

“Now that you mention it, Tuck,” the blue-eyed boy started, “I think the closest we ever got to a compliment from the A-list girls was when Paulina, grossed out by Dash trying to flirt with her all sweaty after P.E., screeched, ‘Get away from me! Not even those losers of Foley and Fenton smell nearly as bad as you!’” He mimicked in a very whiny, high-pitched voice.

While Danny’s imitation got him and Tucker in stitches, it got Sam thinking. Did he say Paulina? She didn’t want to just assume the Paulina she knew was the only one in town, but she couldn’t help but think of her. “Uh, guys?” She waited until they gave her their full attention. “Um, sorry if this is weird, but I just realised I never got around to asking you; which high school did you go to?”

“Casper High.” They replied at the same time. “Why?”

Okay...so they were talking about the Paulina she knew. The Latina wasn’t kidding when she said she used to be the queen bee at Casper High when she and Star studied there, if Danny and Tucker’s retelling, as the lowest end of the food chain, was anything to go by. “Um...no reason, really. I was just curious, that’s all.” Not feeling up to compromising her, for once, plausible answer, she quickly tried changing the subject. “If what you’re telling me is true, though, how come you were such prodigies in the art of not smelling like garbage that’s spent way too much time under the sun?”

“Ghosts.” Tucker replied simply. Panicking, Danny discreetly kicked him in the shins, the only reason his best friend didn’t yelp in pain was the warning glare the raven-haired boy was sending him. He was about to ask him what he wanted when Sam supplied the answer.

“Ghosts?” She echoed, tilting her head to the side.

Flinching at the realisation of what he’d just said, he immediately tried to cover his slip-up. “Y-yeah! Ghosts!” He vaguely registered Danny rubbing his temple with two fingers from the corner of his eye. “You...you remember Danny’s a Fenton, right?”

“Yeah?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, while Danny’s head shot up at that, wondering what his best friend was up to.

“You see,” Tucker said with the same tone of voice a teacher would use when enlightening his students on his subject, “since Danny’s folks are ghost hunters, ever since the spooks started haunting Amity Park, Mr. and Mrs. F. have been a little...say, trigger-happy. So every time they thought a ghost was near, we’d accidentally end up covered in whatever goop they were developing. Hence, why we were always taking showers.”

Catching onto what he’s best friend was up to, Danny was quick to add. “In fact, my sister used to have long, flowing hair, but ended up cutting it to a pixie cut after one too many accidents.”

“That’s...weird as fuck.” Sam said, and for a moment the two men feared she’d seen through them. Until she bobbed one shoulder up and down as she readied herself for round two against her tofu-soy melt. “But I guess it makes sense.”

“It does?” Danny asked, before Tucker’s foot painfully stomping on top of his brought him back to his senses. “I-I mean! Of course it makes sense...well, it shouldn’t, but that’s my family for you!” He made a helpless gesture as he shot her a sheepish grin her way.

Their antics made her frown in suspicion, “Are you guys okay? You’re acting weird, and that’s saying something.”

“We’re perfectly fine!” Tucker rushed in to say, at the same time as Danny tried with, “Just tired!” They shared furtive glances at each other when the dissonance registered in their brains. Then they tried again, only for Tucker to squeak, “Just tired!” at the same time as Danny assured, “We’re perfectly fine!”

A little creeped out by what was taking place right in front of her, the girl munched on her sandwich painfully slowly. “Uh huh…” She drawled, not buying it. She swallowed her food before addressing them again, her hazel-eyes strained on the two nervous-looking boys. “So, which one is it? Are you perfectly fine, or are you tired?”

Gulping loudly, Danny chose to speak for the two of them, seeing as their usual ‘bronnection’ was failing them. “Come on, Sam. We obviously mean we’re a little tired, with all our assignments and whatnot, but overall, we’re perfectly fine!” The halfa tried alleviating the tension with a motion of his hand. “That’s just your usual college student life. What’re you gonna do? Right, Tuck?” He elbowed his bespectacled friend, urging for support.

The African American young man started, “Oh! Um...sure” He stammered at first. “Totally. Nothing going on but your typical college life problems.” He let out an awkward laugh.

Sam just kept staring at them just as intently as before, her intertwined hands resting on the table. With her eyes narrowed on them like a gangster deciding whether to kill or torture a snitch that’d ratted them out to the cops. The pair of best friends could barely contain the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally she shook her head and, for a moment, they were sure she’d made her choice; they were dead. “We definitely can’t come back here. The food’s so bad it’s rotting your brains!” She shook her head in mock concern. “And it’s not like you had many to begin with…”

“Wait a minute!” Tucker protested while Danny let out a relieved sigh, “You leave the Nasty Burger out of this!”

“I just say it as I see it.” Sam countered in a sing-song voice. It was so easy to get a rise out of him, she just couldn’t resist.

As his two friends started bickering, Danny limited himself to watching them, amused and content to have them in his life. A part of him still couldn’t believe how easily Sam had filled the space he didn’t even know was empty. His whole life he thought Tucker’s companionship was all he neededーexcept for his early high school days when he dreamed of being part of the A-listers, but he’d since wisened up. With ghost-hunting overcomplicating his life, he’d long given up on expanding his social circle outside of his sister and best friend, and serious girlfriends were an all-time no-no, but in just a few meetings, the Goth changed that.

Her individualism and strong moral compass were the perfect addition to his dry sense of humour and awkwardness, and Tucker’s optimism and desire to do something big. It was like they balanced each other out. Sam’s own sense of justice aligned itself nicely with Danny’s own need to do the right thing and protect others, while she shared the need to stand outーalbeit in different waysーwith Tucker, as opposed to his efforts of blending in. Even their differences were a great addition to their friendship, for they forced them to open their eyes to new possibilities they might have overlooked.

Danny wished Clockwork would just stop time right at that very moment. There, in the middle of the crowded and not always sanitary Nasty Burger, surrounded by teens complaining about the struggles of high school and underpaid workers, everything was perfect. Being there with Tucker and Sam, watching them bicker and mediating when things threatened to get out of hand, felt like things were as they should have always been.

They weren’t even there to talk about witches! Somewhere along the way hanging out with Sam just became normal; the right thing to do. And to think not that long ago he didn’t even know she existed…

Watching her bring a hand to the shaved half her face, as if she were about to push away some hair blocking her view only to stop in mid-air and sheepishly put her hand back down on the table when she remembered there was nothing to push awayーmaybe she still wasn’t used to missing half of her raven locksーwarmed his heart. For a moment, she redirected her focus on him, probably sensing his eyes on her, and she flushed prettily, causing heat to creep up on Danny’s own cheeks as a result.

They immediately averted their eyes and focused on something else; Sam looked back at Tuckerーwho was trying very hard to keep his impish grin off his faceーand Danny found himself looking at the ceiling. He’d never noticed there were pieces of gum up there...

For someone who’d sworn off romance after sophomore year of high school, he was doing a very poor job at steering clear of it. Just like the route his treacherous mind had taken the other day as he locked eyes with Lady Arcana…

The halfa could feel his heart squeezing in his chest just by looking into those heliotrope orbs of hers. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew not even his glowing gaze could compare to them in uniqueness. Regrettably, the usual frostiness he found in them hindered their beauty. But now that she was staring at him with great esteem and, dare he hope, a hint of admiration, it was as if spring had finally arrived and had defrosted her gaze; revealing the field of lilacs hidden underneath.

The content smile tugging at her lips illuminated her entire visage, accentuating that tantalising beauty he chose to overlook due to the rocky nature of their relationship. In all his years coming back and forth between the Ghost Zone and Amity Park, he was sure he’d never met anyone who represented the beauty of both worlds quite like she did; and he was a halfa!

Her amethyst eyes and her paranormal nature made her stand out even in a dimension populated by powerful entities, each possessor of a unique gift. The way the eery light coming from the ectoplasmic swirls around them reflected on her slick, black hair gave her an appropriately otherworldly glowーso beautiful it eclipsed anything he’d ever seen before. It was almost like she belonged in the Ghost Zone.

But her personality wasn’t like any he’d ever encountered before, let alone in a spirit. He hadn’t realised it until now, or rather, he hadn't allowed himself to see it, but there was no denying the glimpses of something incredibly humane within her. As unusual a sight it might be, her love for her carnivorous plant wasn’t any different from that of a little girl playing with her puppy. The care she felt for it was evident in the curve of her smile whenever she glanced down at her little, potted friend. Her love and loyalty for her people were admirable as well. He’d been lying if he said he hadn’t been taken aback by her insistence of staying behind in order to protect her two subjects. As vain as it sounded, he’d only seen that kind of dedication and sacrifice in himselfーright when he took off to take on Pariah Dark. She’d even saved him, a ghost! Her alleged worst enemy! And all because she saw him in need and couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing.

He could see it now. Lady Arcana represented the best of both worlds. It was like she belonged with him…

Eyes widening in shock, he quickly tried to shake off the strange feelings taking residence in his core. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Lady Arcana, but she was still a witch! It’d be incredibly foolish of him to ignore centuries of beef between their people just for a pretty face. Besides, even if ghosts and witches weren’t enemies, he still could never date her. It’d be too dangerous.

He had to snap out of those delusions, pronto. “Lady Arcana.” He called out to her. A few seconds passed and she said nothing, causing him to worry. Now that he looked closely at her, she seemed a little flushed; what if something was wrong with her?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though, unbeknownst to him, he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” She exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, which only made him worry more for her sake. She was frantically shaking her hands before her and her cheeks only took on a deeper shade of red.

Looking at him like she’d been caught doing something bad, the witch cleared her throat, although it looked a little forced. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly.

The halfa’s eyes shot open at that. Duh! What was he thinking!? Of course not seeing their queen return from the Ghost Zone would cause an uproar among her clan! “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Lady Arcana said softly, and Danny could feel his heart swelling at her words. Unbidden, his expression fell a little when she put a little distance between the two. She was about to cast the spell that would send her home when his voice acted before his brain had time to catch up to it. “Wait!”

Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of himself, he couldn’t keep the seed of hope from being planted when she gave him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

Danny was pretty sure he’d just smiled appreciatively at her, which was why he didn’t understand when she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!”

“Wait, Lady Arcana!” He called out to her once more, hating how desperate he sounded.

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

The way her expression softened was enough to bring forth emotions he long believed dead and buried. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

And with that, she was gone.

The snow-white haired ghost kept staring off into the distance even after she was long gone, his mind still trying to process the day’s events. But there was something that, hard as he might, he just couldn’t make sense of. She’d been able to grab him while he was intangible, but how? At first he thought it was a specific spell or something, but that theory was soon proven mistaken when not even Lady Arcana seemed to know how she’d been able to touch him.

Only one thing was for sure; he needed answers. And he had a pretty good idea where he’d be able to get them.

Danny’s musings were abruptly interrupted by the sight of his best friend pointing a fry accusingly at Sam, “When were you going to tell me you’re rich?”

A heavy silence suddenly filled their booth. It was like someone had forced a horrible screech out of a vinyl disc by scratching on its surface. Looking over at Sam, the halfa was sure she was about to drop her food, too stunned to even move. The way her eyes had popped open would’ve been comical, hadn’t it been for the tense atmosphere.

Shaking her head lightly, the Goth girl finally regained her senses, her shocked face morphing itself into a scowl. “Say it a little louder, Tucker.” She grumbled. “I don’t think they’ve heard you all the way to Siberia.”

Now it was Tucker’s turn to scowl. “Uh, no. You don’t get to be mad at me for saying it aloud.” He slumped back on his seat, turning his head away from her. “Not when you never even told me yourself; I had to find out through Jazz.”

“Jazz?” Danny repeated, confused. “When did you talk about this with Jazz?”

“Uh...we were texting each other and it came up.” He shrugged his concerns off. “But that’s not important right now. What matters,” he said hotly as he shot the brunette a pointed look, “is that we’ve been friends for over a year and you never told me! How come Danny and Jazz get to know you’re part of the Mansons but I don’t?!”

The youngest Fenton was about to try and explain things to the techno geek when Sam beat him to it, “Tucker, it’s not like I planned this! I was just having dinner with my dad when Danny and his sister appeared at the restaurant.” She explained, exasperated. “And honestly? The only reason Danny knows is because Jazz already did. It’s not like I saw them come in and waved at them like, ‘Hey, guys! I’m here with my Hella wealthy father! You wanna come with to our yacht in the Mediterranean?’” She droned in an overly cheery, sugary-sweet voice, her lashes fluttering excessively.

“You have a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Both boys asked, incredulous.

Her scowl deepened. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Yeah, well..,” His shoulders slouched, Tucker could only sulk, hurt. “Could’ve still told me. I thought we were friends, Sam.”

His words were like a knife piercing through her heart. They were friends, weren’t they? Despite their differences and some of his most obnoxious flaws, Tucker was still the first person to ever approach her without ulterior motives in mind. Even after they’d made it clear they could never work as a couple, he stayed with her. Annoying he may be, he was still the first friend she’d ever made on her own, and she loved him for it. He was right; he didn’t deserve to be hurt due to her secretive nature.

With a sigh, she scrubbed her face with one hand, feeling remorseful. “Tuck, I’m...I’m really sorry.” She confessed, earning the techno geek’s full attention. “You’re right, even if the secret was mine to tell, I should’ve let you know sooner.” She sighed once more, unable to meet his eyes. Sam hated allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of others; growing up, she’d learned to depend on no one but herself, therefore, showing her helpless, weaker, side to others was incredibly hard to do. “Listen, you’re the first friend I’ve made in a very long time. I was afraid of losing you.”

Although his posture was still guarded, Tucker couldn’t deny her words piqued his interest. “What do you mean, Sam? How is me knowing who you are going to lead to you losing me?”

“I sort of agree with Tucker.” Danny commented. “If anything, it’d bring you two closer.”

“Right?”

Chuckling mirthlessly, the Goth shook her head. Both boys flinched when they saw the pain reflected in her hazel eyes. “Look, being me isn’t easy, okay? I’m not saying life in general ain’t shitty, because that’d be lying, but my life is especially complicated.

“I grew up trying to live up to insanely high expectations, a childhood no kid should ever be forced to go through. I was constantly reminded of the near impossibility that was me making real friends, and I guess, once I reached puberty, it just made me cynical.” Sam admitted quietly, not looking up from her trail of food. “By the time I could try making friends of my own, I was already convinced the moment they learned of my family’s wealth, they’d start seeing me as their personal credit card, instead of my own person who deserves to be loved and accepted just for being who I am.”

Although she desperately tried to hide it, Danny and Tucker immediately exchanged concerned glances the instant she sniffled. Their hearts broke in two for the girl sitting with them. Sure, they’d been Casper High’s laughing stock from the beginning to end of their high school experience, but they always had each other. Sam...Sam spent the majority of her life alone. It was impossible not to feel for her.

“In...in the end,” God, how she hated the way her voice shook! “I decided hiding that part of me was easier. I wanted friends who liked me for me, and having a Black MasterCard was surely going to make things difficult.”

“You have a Black MasterCard?” Tucker accidentally let out. When Danny’s neon green glare started burning a hole in his skull, he backtracked. “I’m sorry, Sam. I mean...I guess I mean I’m sorry.”

“You are? But I’m the one who’s kept you in the dark this long!”

“Yeah, and it hurts.” He admitted. “But it’s obvious you had your reasons and after hearing them, man, I can’t blame you. I would also hide all that cash if I were you. Even though the temptation of flaunting my own private jet in front of all the asholes who used to shove me into lockers would be too great.”

Despite herself, his joke made her laugh. “Thanks Tuck. Friends?” She rubbed her eyes to wipe the imaginary tears away. She was relieved to know she didn’t cry; crying was something Sam Manson just didn’t do. It would’ve been mortifying.

He leaned over to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re still friends. But you’re paying for our next meal.” That earned him a playful punch on the arm from the Goth, but the smile on her face betrayed her true emotions.

Shaking her head good-naturedly, she scoffed. “Deal.”

After that, the three kept talking amongst themselves. About everything and nothing. Nearing the end of their meal, Danny and Tucker were too engrossed reminiscing about their high school days per her request. Admittedly, just hearing the traumatising experiences they’d been through made her feel suddenly grateful for never attending the dreaded place herself. Still, after the tenth story retelling how some jackass had forced Danny to eat his jockstrap after losing a betーew!ー her mind wandered elsewhere.

Her last encounter with Phantom sent her reeling. The way they both complemented each other when they worked as a team was astounding. It reminded her of Grandma Ida’s tales of how things used to be before the ghosts forced them into hiding, when the two species were practically symbiotic of each other.

For the first time since she received his letter, she found herself trusting him. Most importantly, a part of herself came to wish she could indeed trust him. Perhaps all the centuries apart and resentment had clouded their people’s minds. Maybe they were really better off together than separated. She had to admit her knowledge on ghosts was very limited aside from what she’d been taught her entire life, and if there was something Sam was, that was inquisitive. She never took anything by face value, so why did she do just that with ghosts?

She needed to learn more about them. She needed to act like an individual, rather than a bee awaiting orders from the queen, and do a little research of her own.

She needed answers and, crazy as it might be, she knew where to find them.

“Hey, Danny?” Her voice stopped short Tucker’s retelling of his hellish experience dating the second most popular girl in school. When Danny’s baby blue eyes met hers, she almost lost her nerve. Almost. “Um, would you mind taking me to FentonWorks?”

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #Paulina Sanchez #star dp #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king! danny #ghost king au #witch queen au #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

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writing-frenzy · 4 years ago

Text

I Wouldn’t Risk It (SVSSS Fic)

Summery: In which one annoyed Shang Huan does not know why he puts up with a certain Demonic Cultivator- “I owe you.” ah, that’s right.

Warning: some Violence and blood, and cursing. All good things to be found in svsss canon~

(In which @hamelin-born is a terrible, wonderful enabler, thus this is how it came about.)

EDIT: Part of Wager verse, first Part HERE

----

“Welcome to- oh wait it’s you.” Shang Huan started to greet some incoming customers, only to give the pair that came in a flat look instead.

“Greetings Uncle Shang!” Cao Mei, an actually adorable raven haired girl, her purple eyes so dark one could almost think they were black if it weren’t for certain lighting here and there. Puberty was obviously treating her well, seeing she must have been 19 at least, was developing some curves, her baby fat also finally melted off. But despite this, Shang Huan was unmoved, as for one, he wasn’t a fucking pedo, and two, he could easily see that same matching intelligence and calculation she inherited from her grandfather’s own dark purple eyes.

As expected of Wife #45; not only a knock out beauty in the making, but even had more IQ points then most, along with a more developed character and backstory then a lot of his later wife plots.

Though, he could admit he was taken off guard with her story then most; the cause of that being one certain person-

“I see the place hasn’t burnt down yet; congratulations for that.” was huffed by said anomaly, making Shang Huan focus his deadpan face on the other.

“Thanks, my kitchen staff is always trying though.” and no sooner were the words spoken, then what sounded like multiple firecrackers going off in said kitchen... He could even swear he saw what looked like a blue firework of a bird fly out from there, before one of his handy golems ate it as it passed...

Closing his eyes, Shang Huan counted to three, before opening them once more; he would never be able to count as high as he really wanted, but time was rarely on his side, so three it was. Hazel eyes once more opening, Shang Huan was able to look at a source of many headaches, one Dark Poison Sect Leader, Cao Xiaowen, a true doting grandfather who still looked like he was only in his late 20s, his blood red hair peppered with black from all the resentful energy surrounding him, and greys from stress of life actually catching up with him.

And a character that was never in Proud Immortal Demon Way, but yet again from one of his other stories; a Demonic Sect Leader that had just been a random background character, just to flesh out that world a bit more. He had only named because while he could get away without naming the Sect the guy made, it wouldn’t make sense to have Cao Xiaowen be nameless, seeing as he had bullshited a whole bunch of techniques this infamous and well known demonic cultivator was supposed to have made...

Making a face at that smiling face before him, Shang Huan felt some regrets; just some more to add to his pile stashed in his closet and under his floorboards, but what can one do? Especially with a story that seems to make sure he can never forget any of them, always seeming to push willing to push cheery, willful mistakes into his face.

i.e. the Demonic Sect Leader before him.

But then again, to see these two characters, Cao Xiaowen and Cao Mei connect here, in this living world of PIDW and other mash ups, was honestly rather amazing, just with Demonic Cultivation and the same last names... It was as fascinating as it was paranoia inducing. Cao Mei had been just another revenge wife plot, the young woman wanting vengeance against her Mother for killing her loved family members along with trying to kill her... as well as to save her young baby brother, who their Mother was trying to mold into her perfect image of Sect Leader. The girl had only been able to survive for as long as she did because one of her dying relatives had sacrificed themselves, turning themselves into her Spirit Familiar and protecting her...

.... And as for Cao Xiaowen, when he had mentioned how he went down in his end in his own story verse, Airplane had only said that it was due to betrayal and sacrifice, that being the only ending he gave the character...

(How many other fucking throwaway lines does he have to worry about ohmygodwhyisthishislife-)

“...So, why do you choose now to darken my doorway?” Shang Huan asked, the unspoken ‘I-know-you-hate-this-place-much-less-willing-to-bring-your-beloved-granddaughter-with-you.’ not said, but easily heard.

“... You would be glad to know, but I must now introduce you to Sect Leader of the Dark Poison Sect, Cao Meihui.” Cao Xiaowen introduced as he motioned to the young girl. Shang Huan stared for but a moment before closing his eyes once more, even as whispers broke out all around them in his place, from the gambling tables to even the bar and restaurant.

This time he allowed himself to count to 10, as a treat.

“Follow me this way, Elder Cao, Sect Leader Cao.” and with a simple hand motion, a few of his workers already getting things done, the Ruby Room already to entertain his ‘guests’. It didn’t take to long after all, with his standards and staff precision, but he needed to make sure there was nothing to spy on in this conversation.

Because oh, does he have a lot to say right now.

Once the door was closed and all the silences spells and talismans in place, Shang Huan rounded on the now sitting pair, letting his hands slam on the service table before him.

“Can you not?!” Shang Huan seethed, even as Cao Xiaowen grinned, his heir now leader beside him shifting ever so slightly beside him, smartly making some space between them.

“Why, Shang Huan, what ever do you mean?”

“You politic in my place again and I will make sure to show the world just how much I can beat you into the ground.” was practically growled, Cao Xiaowen smartly raising his hands in surrender as he did. “Why the hell did you even need to do that, didn’t you already get the stalker bitch killed and dispersed last year? I distinctly remember being there for the mad ramblings.”

-Urgh- he never wanted that much TMI into someone’s deluded sexual fantasies, especially rounding around this who-me? Demonic Cultivator! Body stealing and marrying the guy’s son just to get a possible chance at him, and then killing him and half his family when she still couldn’t get what she wanted to spite him?

Shang Huan doesn’t move, but that still doesn’t mean he’s not fighting a shiver of repulsion at the thought. Seeing the way Cao Xiaowen grimaced at the reminder, Shang Huan was actually starting to feel in a better mood.

“While she and most of her supporters are now gone, traces of those who still hold sympathies for her and her ideals still remain.” the man scowled, even as he took out a small sachet, handing the small plain back over as he did.

Hmmm, spicy roasted melon seeds; say what you will about the man, he did know his bribes at least.

“They’re also trying to push my little didi to be the next Sect Leader, even though he never wanted it in the first place!” Cao Meihui scowled in turn, taking out a beautiful, yet still deadly battle fan to fan herself. “Really, he has suffered enough under that woman’s ‘care’, he should be able to choose however he wishes to live in life!”

Shang Huan doesn’t even wince at those words, even as he thinks on the poor fate of canon fodder Cao Yun, a young boy desperate to leave his harsh home circumstances, even joining a certain Righteous Sect set to be doomed and destroyed, loosing his home once again and setting him in turn on a doomed quest to stop Luo Binghe...

Well, considering the boy had left home at 15, and had only just turned that this year, maybe that path could be prevented; there were still plenty of other Sects still up and running when his protagonist came into power, maybe he could join one of those?

Still though, maybe he should give the kid a transportation talisman for his birthday; you can never have too many of those after all.

“That still does not explain why you had to announce Young Mei right in front of my store.”

“Please, it’s the perfect place too; not many completely neutral places around anymore, what with Hua Hua Palace trying to police everyone and dragging the other Righteous Sects into it... Speaking of which, they haven’t bothered you after last time, have they?” Cao Xiaowen asks, with what looks like could be actual concern in his eyes.... Ha-

“I’m pretty sure they won’t forget my warding anytime soon; not to mention the rest of the towns folk’s farewells.” Shang Huan replies dryly, remembering just how all those golden pricks were beautifully thrown from his store, some of his staff even joining in on the beatdown the protection brought forth. If he remembers right, it soon became a whole town wide event to run them all out.

And when you have a whole town seemingly a melting pot filled with Spiritual beings, humans, and demons, they definitely are going to have their wounds to lick.

“But again, my place is, as you said Neutral; so why are you bringing in politics here? Announcements of a new Sect Leader should be only at official events or places that one is already allied with after all.” The Owner of the Gilded Plane asks lightly, those hazel eyes taking on a deadly touch, like molten liquid gold is taking over bronze, a sunset of colors being the last of the sky you will ever see, easily to see it all reflected in the blade at his side.

(Ah, how terrifying, seeing the threat of Fortune’s Favored all out to bare, Dujin Xue at his side, the spirit weapon willing and bloodthirsty to take out any threat to its master.)

For a moment, all is silent, before finally, the red haired cultivator takes from his sleeves, a few boxes simple in their decorations and yet obviously of the finest Jade.

“I almost forgot; I have with me some of the finest of Blight and Poison Talismans with me, not to mention my newest creations; a Pipa made with Blood Drain White Wood and using heart strings of an abyssal creature, painted with curse residue.” Cao Xiaowen motions to an opened box with said black and purple instrument with white accents, truly a work of art and power, even unbound as it is, no master to really work those deadly strings just yet.

Another box is soon opened as well, revealing a twin pair of daggers, their blades white with a beautiful red handle for a hilt. “Not to mention these Ancient Necromancer’s Bone Daggers, recently uncovered in an old tomb, plenty of resentful energy and dark desires just waiting to be unveiled in any upcoming battle, madness in but a cut to be delivered...” the former Sect Leader says, a bit of sweat coming from his brow, those dark eyes uneasy even as he hides behind his bluster and charm. His granddaughter, Cao Meihui watches intently, her own dark eyes worried even as she is awed by her beloved grandfather’s work, and the man who can make him so nervous.

The one Fortune’s Favored watches and listens, and waits, even as he is showcased all the wares most people would die to get their hands on, each item worth more then most lives to some.

“... I will give you a warning and you will be Marked for it; there will be no next time if you try and pull this stunt again, you hear me Xiaowen?” Shang Huan allows, eyes turning back into that warm and soft hazel, even as he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he does. Well, at least he now has more good things in store for his gambling patrons, who will no doubt go crazy for these goods.

(Never noticing how the familial pair relax, a breath of relief taken for their own that this gambit actually worked, even if they are now Marked by all the staff.

Best behavior is a must for now at least.)

-----+-----

~15 Years ago~

Cao Xiaowen, once just regular Cao Xiao, was a man most would never dare cross; as a Demonic Cultivator, you wouldn’t even be able to escape through death. He had cultivated carefully along his chosen path, having no talent for what was Righteous roads, so turned down to darker paths and alleys to get what he wanted. He had been smart about it, and equally talented for Demonic Cultivation, becoming a Bounty Hunter to be able to hide just what practices he used.

Not only did it get him much needed gold, but the resentful energy and blood of the wicked were quiet useful on his path. Unlike other Demonic Cultivators that sought to take in the energies as fast as possible to form their Obsidian Cores, killing innocents, and eventually needing Cauldrons in the end to balance themselves and to go farther in their Cultivation, Cao Xiaowen went for a more steadfast pace.

He first started with crafting items of Resentful energy, talismans and amulets to get a better feel for the delicacies of the energy he chose to work with. With time and effort, along with plenty of meditation and blood on his hands, he found a cultivation path that suited him rather well, untraditional as it was for the usual brutal force most Demonic Cultivators usually went. His path was like a slow acting poison, letting the wicked energies ever so carefully, ever so gently gather into his meridians, building up a steady foundation before he ever focused on building his Core.

And the results for it were astounding; when compared to traditional Demonic Cultivators, not only could Cao Xiaowen hold his own with those stages above his own, he could beat even those whose Cultivation that was said to be an entire level above him. Not to mention just how devastating his spells and attacks were against those of the Righteous Sects.

It was no surprise that when he founded his own Sect, he had plenty of disciples to chose and pick from...But he wasn’t stupid.

He knew he had plenty of enemies all around him, some just jealous of his power, others hateful of just how he got it, being a Demonic Cultivator was a sin for some even if he only went after criminals. That he was a rather attractive even as his red hair was peppered black and grey, and even a few tigers acting like pigs to be fatten all came for him in the end. He knows people were waiting in the shadows, eager to take him down and steal everything he worked for, salivating over his abilities and life work...

Though despite it all, he never expected the betrayal to come so close to home.

“P-papa.” was stuttered out by his honestly rather adorable Granddaughter, the young four year old sobbing as she reached for him; his daughter in law smiling all the while even as she held one of his crafted knives to the little girl’s throat. He had to give it to her, not many women could still look so devastatingly beautiful, covered as they were in their husband’s blood. He never expected the raven haired woman to be so ruthless, honestly sure the woman loved his son.

Looks like he still has errors in his judgement, even at his age; taken off guard on what he though would be a simple material gathering mission, only to be crippled and threatened by a woman he thought he could trust even as she slit his beloved child’s throat before his eyes.

“You really shouldn’t have refused me all those years ago; this all could have been avoided if you had just agreed to be mine... oh well, too late for regrets.” The woman mourns softly, making Cao Xiaowen feel his brow crinkle, dark eyes confused.

But trying to parse the words of the mad woman was not something he had time for, seeing as his lovely little granddaughter was suddenly in his arms, the both of them finding themselves being pushed off a cliff, and into the Broken Jaw Ravine.

Using what remained of his spiritual energy in his blighted Obsidian Core, Cao Xiaowen was fully prepared to become his dear granddaughter’s Familiar Spirit to protect her...

When in the end, it turned out unnecessary; they ended up landing in a Spirit Capture Net. And judging by the pure color and Qi he could feel running through it, a high quality one at that. Feeling how it blocked him from using any of his spiritual energy and Qi, he looked to his darling dear grandchild, the (forcibly) retired Sect Leader couldn’t help but feel so relieved to see her shaken, but well at least in body.

And then he heard the cursing.

“What in the fuck you soggy old vulture of a corpse! Curses on your fucking clothing to never be nice and pristine, to always stub your toe on the corner, to be miserable even when you have your favorite food! Do you know how long it took to make that net?! Could you have fallen somewhere else? No, of course the skies would decide to shit on me with some young man in my beautifully crafted net! Probably jumped off for the heck of it knowing how fucking dumb most Demonic Cultivators are! ARRRHGGGG YOU DAMN WALNUT!” was practically ranted below them, a young brunet man yelling up at him, who couldn’t be more then in his 20′s. (Though rather impressively at the Peak of Core Formation from what he could sense.)

As it was, two pairs of dark eyes could only give the ranting rouge a wide eyed stare, even when, in the end, the young man let them down, hazel eyes narrowed in on them. He raised one brow at his child that was with him, but easily narrowed them back onto Cao Xiaowen’s own.

Ah, he could probably sense his power (use his weakness).

“So, this is how it is going to go down. I’ll help heal you and your kid, won’t even leave her in debt... tho your ass is mine; I say jump, you better do it and ask if this is high enough. You will owe me till the end of your day and then some, and in return I will benevolently help you out. You agree or should I leave you and the kid here for any unpleasant fates?” was the rather grumpy, if smartly given offer, Cao Xiaowen finding he can’t help but respect it, even as crudely as it was put. Looking down to his innocent little Cao Mei, the grandfather could only nod at the offer, no other recourse that could ensure his little gem a better chance at life.

And thus marked the first meeting between the terrible and powerful Dark Poison Sect Leader Cao Xiaowen, and the Rogue Cultivator Shang Huan, who would one day have a title even greater then his own.

Amazing really, how some things start (and others end).

-----

:D Here we are, another story from this verse; it was really fun! (even if I actually had to create a damn timeline to make sure everything was straight TTxTT)

Anyways, here is an ally of Airplane! Their relationship can be described as.

Shang Huan: Why do I put up with you again?

Cao Xiaowen: Because I have the best gifts bitch. *Inwardly sweaty*

But Also-

Cao Xiaowen: So... Demonic Cultivating involves a lot of... Dual Cultivating huh... And are those innocents being brutally murdered over there?

Rando: Yeah, ain’t it great? :D

Cao Xiaowen: ... *proceeds to make a cultivation path that involves as little Dual Cultivation as needed while also being one of the nicest ironically* Ah, that is better, better get more wicked blood~

These two were really fun to write together, and with PIDW, I can make as many ocs as I want~ So much to do, so much to play with~

Oh yeah, Shang Hua’s blade, Dujin Xue means Gilded Blood :3

Cao I picked for being a common last name, while Xiaowen means red skies. Mei means red gem, but for Meihui I liked the meaning of monstrous/demonic beauty~ As you can see, I had fun~

#SVSSS #Scum Villain Self Saving System #Scum Villain Self-Saving System #Shang Qinghua #Wager (SVSSS) Verse #Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 5 | Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary: Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter: A trip to the Natural History Museum leads to a friendly wager. Tom struggles with an inner turmoil and will the snow ruin all their plans?

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

Tom tossed and turned that night, waking the next morning groggy and with a crick in his neck. He skipped his usual morning run to get some extra rest and slept through his alarm. He got ready as fast as possible, giving Bobby a quick pet before heading out the door.

When he arrived at Tamra’s, she is already outside, bundled up in her hat, scarf, and new coat.

“You’re late. Here hold this.” Tamra shoved two coffees and a brown bag as she turned to lock the front door.

“Breakfast?” Tom asked as he opened the bag to spy the contents.

“Pain au chocolat.” Tamra replied, doing a dead on impression of Tom. “I figured I would keep you in supply of chocolate. Did you sleep okay? You don’t look well.”

Tom ran his hands across his beard. He had hoped she wouldn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes. “Bobby kept me up. But nothing a good cup of coffee won’t fix.” Tom gave her a smile, and she returned with one of her own.

“Drink up.” She took the other cup and sipped. “We have a big day!”

“Lead on, museum expert.”

As they headed to the museum, Tom let his thoughts wander as Tamra gripped his hand to lead him through the crowds. He replayed Luke and Ben’s comments from the last night. They are imagining things. He told himself, rationalizing away the lump in his throat and butterflies in his stomach to lack of sleep and coffee.

They moved through the exhibits and Tamra described all the exhibits to Tom, pulling from display to display. Tom nodded and listened to Tamra’s voice. Her passion once again sweeping him up into a cloud of hubris.

“You’re quiet this morning.” She commented as they walked into another room.

“I’m enjoying your company. You explain everything so well.”

Tamra giggled. “I thought I might be boring you.”

“Not even close. Please continue on.” Tom gestured for her to lead the way.

They reached a special exhibit called “Crime Scene Live” and read the information and discovered you get to solve a crime and at the end you get to find out if you guessed the killer. They purchased tickets and headed into the experience.

“Care to make a friendly wager?” Tom commented raising his eyebrows.

“Terms?”

“First person to guess the killer wins. Loser cooks the winner dinner.”

Tamra tilted her head. “Deal.” She took off running. Tom soon followed on her heels.

“No running!” A docent warned as Tom zoomed by. Tamra giggled as Tom apologized before taking off at a fast walk.

Tom arrived at the first station with Tamra halfway through the task. The two of them worked fast and furious through each station. Tamra held a slight lead until they reach the fake blood. She froze as she stood staring at the vials.

“You’re not squeamish about fake blood, are you?” Tom mocked as he pulled on the protective gear before sitting down to begin the station.

“No.” she lied. She shuffled from one foot to another. Tom moved with a doctor’s precision through the station. “Okay maybe a little.”

“Sit down.” Tom insisted as he patted the seat next to him. “I’ll help you.”

Tamra gave him an uneasy smile but sat down next to him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Tom finished up his portion first and then did the same for Tamra. He rose.

“You’re leaving?!”

“I intend to win.” Tom’s lips pulled into a large toothy grin. “You can move on once your results come back.” Tom took off and Tamra lost sight of him.

Her results came back a few moments later, and she took off. Tamra moved the stations as fast as she could and by the time came to enter results, Tom got there only a half a second before her.

“Damn!” she cursed as Tom reached the final station.

“And to the victor goes the…” Tom quoted as he input his answer. A big red X appeared on the screen. His face fell. “… spoils.”

Tamra pushed him out of the way. “What were you saying?” A green check mark popped up after she put her anser in. She raised her arms in celebration. She danced a circle around a dejected Tom. “You owe me dinner.”

“Well played.” Tom extended his hand. Tamra grabbed him into a quick hug. “Now let’s check out the rest of the museum.” She nodded and bounded off towards the exit. Tom discarded his paper in the nearest trash bin so Tamra didn’t spy his answers.

If Tamra’s energy level only skyrocketed after her victory. She bounced through the rest of the exhibits. She even smacked someone in the back of the head when she gestured with a bit too much gusto.

“So sorry!” she screamed as the gentleman threw a dirty stare their direction.

Tom pulled her close to him. “Perhaps we should leave the premises before they charge you with assault and I am named an accomplice.”

“Good idea. Lunch?”

“A woman after my own heart.” He commented.

They found somewhere nearby to grab some food. Tamra talked a mile a minute the entire time while Tom sat silent. He knew if interrupted she would stop talking, but he liked be on the listening end of the conversation. They spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city. Tom pointed out all the festive decorations and every time, Tamra turned her nose up every time.

“Stop trying to make Christmas happen.”

“Stop fighting it.” Tom quipped back. “Christmas is not the enemy.”

“Maybe for you. But the only thing I associate with Christmas is heartbreak and my family falling apart.” Her voice cracked a touch on the word “family.”

Tom’s heart hurt at the anguish on Tamra’s face. “There must be a happy Christmas memory you have.” Tom’s hand moved in a circle as he grasped for the words. He snapped his fingers. “Your favorite Christmas present as a child?”

Tamra stopped in her tracks. “I don’t know. No one has asked anything about Christmas in a long time.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Tamra shot him daggers. “Give me a second to reflect. What’s yours?”

Tom ran his fingers across his chin, bristling his beard. “For me, it would be this little cassette recorder. I would use to put on these little shows. Early seeds of my future career I guess.”

“Aww.” Tamra cooed. “Mine would be a Cabbage Patch doll.” Tom raised his eyebrows as if to spur the memory on. “My grandmother gave it to me. She staked it out at the store just for me. It was one of the last presents she got me before she passed away. I still have that doll up in my attic.”

“You never struck me as the sentimental type.”

“I may hate Christmas but I am not a monster, Tom! You never asked.” Her nostrils flared in anger.

Tom held his arms up in defeat. “I yield! You are right. I apologize.”

The conversation continued like this, with the two of them trading memories and snippets of childhood and young adulthood. Tamra burst into laughter when Tom showed her a picture of him with blonde curls.

“Like Little Orphan Annie!”

“Okay, let’s never say that to my face ever again.”

Daylight waned, and the time came to head to Tom’s for dinner. Tom’s mind raced as he drove the route home. He went through a mental checklist on the state of his home. Was the dirty laundry picked up? Dishes out of the sink? Bobby’s toys put away? Oh God, Bobby! What if he doesn’t like Tamra? What if she is allergic? He gripped the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip. Tamra gazed out the window at the passing houses. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye and made a sharp turn.

“What the hell!” Tamra remarked as the car came to an abrupt stop. Tom jumped out of the car and jogged to her side of the car.

“Are you going to get out and help me pick out a tree or not?” Tom opened the door for her.

“Do I have a choice?” she got out of the car, grumbling.

“Not really. Come.” Tom gave a hand to help pull her to her feet.

Tom took off amongst the trees on the side of the road. Tamra rolled her eyes and followed him into the makeshift forest. As Tom ran his hands over the trees, a light snow began to fall.

“Pick a tree so we can go.” Tamra whined as snow dusted her shoulders.

“Are you bothered by a bit of snow?” Tom teased as he grabbed a nearby tree by its trunk and gave it a firm shake.

“I don’t like the cold.”

“Then help. What about this one?” Tom held one out.

Tamra turned her head to the side. “The trunk is crooked.”

He put that tree down and grabbed another one. “The top is too sparse.”

Tom peeked around the tree. “For someone who hates Christmas you are awfully critical about Christmas trees.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“At this point, I am leaning towards not.” Tom commented as he tossed the tree to the side. Tamra walked to the back of the lot. She disappeared behind a stack of trees only to emerge moments later, a tree in hand.

“This one.” She blew an errant lock of hair out of her face.

Tom moved next to Tamra, brushing pine needles off her shoulders before placing his arm there. “You’re right. It’s perfect.” Tom squeezed her into his side by the shoulder. “Now let’s go.”

Tom paid for the tree and Tamra helped him hoist the whole thing on top of the car. As they continued on their way. Tamra held her hands in front of the air vent.

“Here.” Tom grabbed her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. “You are ice cold. Nothing a nice cup of tea can’t help.”

“Sounds nice.” She placed her other hand on top of Tom’s.

They stayed like that the rest of the drive, long after the heat kicked in. The car pulled into the drive as a heavier snow began to fall. As they hustled up the stairs, Tom stopped Tamra.

“You’re not allergic to dogs are you?”

“No. You have a dog?”

“A spaniel named Bobby. I also can not speak as to the condition of the home. I did not expect company.”

Tamra smiled. “You’ve seen me in my bathrobe. I can see past a few dirty dishes and stray clothes.”

Tom smirked as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Tamra heard the clicking of nails on the floors. Before she realized, a small ball of brown fur ran right into her legs.

“Bobby! Behave.” Tom scolded.

“It’s fine. No bruises, Bobby.” Tamra knelt down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Which I am afraid I can’t say the same for your owner.”

Tom blushed and flicked on the hallway light. He hung the coats and pushed up his sleeves before heading to the kitchen. Tamra followed and Tom gestured to the living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll make you that cup of tea and then start on dinner.”

Tamra stood in the middle of the living area. Bookshelves covered every available wall space. Every shelf stuffed to the gills with books of all shapes and sizes. Tamra perused the shelves, running her fingers along the spines as she looked. Her hand lighted on a particular volume and she pulled the book out to read the back cover.

“See anything you like?” Tom asked as he entered with the tea. Tamra startled, throwing the book in the air before catching it inches from the floor.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Tea’s ready. I fixed it the same way as at the National Gallery.”

“You remembered?” she took a tentative sip to check, the tea tasted spot on. “Thank you.”

Tom grinned. “Now that I impressed with tea, the pressure is on for dinner.”

Tamra took another sip. “What are you making?”

“My specialty, Spaghetti Bolognese. Now if you will excuse me, I have a debt to settle.” He tied an apron on to protect his clothes. The whole scene was positively domestic to Tamra.

She settled into a nearby armchair with the book in hand. She read the cover first before cracking it open and began to read. Tom walked by a few times to check on her and smiled at the scene of Tamra curled in the chair with Bobby at her feet, as though this was her place and not Tom’s. He ignored the buzzing in his stomach to return to cooking.

“Dinner’s ready!” Tom announced when he placed the plates onto the table. Tamra looked up from the book. She stretched before standing.

“Already?” She stood to meet him at the table.

“It’s been over an hour.” Tom gestured for her to sit next to him.

“An hour?!”

“One has the tendency to lose oneself when lost in a good book.”

“Who said that? Shakespeare?”

“That’s an original Hiddleston.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Tamra took a large sip on wine to keep herself from inserting her foot even further into her mouth.

“ No apologies necessary. I appreciate the compliment.”

“I wouldn’t want you to get a swell head so I will keep the compliments to a minimum.”

Tom laughed. “I am sure my friends and family would encourage your efforts.”

“Tell me more about your family.”

Tom’s eyes lit up as he talked about his parents and his sisters. She couldn’t imagine what life was like in the Hiddleston family if they all had even half the energy Tom did.

“My…” Tom commented as he looked at his watch while clearing the plates. “look at the time, I need to get you home.”

“Before I turn into a pumpkin?” Tamra giggled, giddy on wine and pasta.

“Something like that.” Tom’s expression went from boisterous to somber as he glanced out the window. “Oh no.”

“What?” Tamra pushed behind him, her chin digging into his shoulder. She saw the roads covered with snow, far more than a dusting. And the snow continued to fall in heavy sheets.

“I’m afraid we’re snowed in. There is no way I can navigate those streets with all the snow.”

“What about public transportation?” Tamra asked, her brows furrowed

“Doubtful. You’re going to have to stay here the night.” Tom noticed Tamra’s face paled, so he placed his hand on top of hers. “In the guest room.” Tamra let out a breath.

Tamra stepped away to finish clearing the dishes. She yawned a few times during the process. “Why don’t I show you to the room?” Tamra nodded and followed Tom down the hallway.

The room contained a bed, dresser, nightstand, and lamp. The bed made with white sheets. Tom opened one of the dresser drawers. “Here are some clothes to sleep in.” He handed her a shirt and pants.

“Why do you have women’s clothes?”

“My sister left them here the last time she stayed over.” Tom explained. “What did you think? I have some sort of secret girlfriend.”

“Something like that. You are a famous actor.”

“Who happens to be as single as they come. Much to the chagrin of my mother.” Blood rushed to Tom’s ears. He shook his head to clear the buzzing. “The bathroom’s down the hall, Bobby usually sleeps in my room, and I am the door at the end if you need anything.”

Tamra nodded. “Thanks Tom. For everything.” They walked to the door together.

“My pleasure. See you in the morning. Hopefully, the roads are clear by then.”

Tamra rose on her toes, kissing Tom’s cheek. “Goodnight Tom.”

He shut the door with a smile and walked down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind once Bobby sauntered in. His fingers traced the place where her lips touched moments before. Once again blood rushed to his head and Tom stumbled to the bed lightheaded.

“Fuck!” he muttered as he stared at the closed door. He cursed Benedict and Luke but mostly himself as he tossed and turned that night.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #bah hiddleston

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breakingsomething · 4 years ago

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the fall part nine - the truth about magic

basic summary: henrik meets some old friends, a LOT of worldbuilding happens, and the world falls apart

trigger warnings: vomit, kidnapping, violence

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow

henrik was hurting. his phone was dead. and he had not realized how far away the golf club was.

fuck, maybe he was going to need help.

he wasn't far from one of his coworker's houses, and they were on... decent terms, so henrik figured he'd be able to rest a bit there and maybe ask him for a lift. just the thought spurred him on, giving him the energy to walk just the little bit further to the expensive houses two streets away.

this was one of the much nicer areas of brighton. of course, henrik and his coworker worked as surgeons. that was a high paying job. but henrik lived in a small flat with his brothers (because it was in a safe area to practice magic in, and because staying together had always helped keep anti at bay), and he couldn't help but feel slightly insecure as he limped up to the white doorway surrounded by green shrubs in a well kept garden and rung the bell. christ, even the doorbell sounded posh. henrik winced in pain as he shifted from foot to foot, trying to find a comfortable position to stand in while he waited.

after maybe ten seconds, he heard sounds from the other side. shuffling, footsteps, a loud barking. when the door opened, henrik was immediately greeted by two tiny dogs leaping up his legs, and he cried out, grabbing at the door so his legs wouldn't give out.

"down, bacon, down, hash!" a sharp voice yelled, and henrik's head snapped up from the yipping puppies to the man in the doorway. brown hair shaved at the sides, skin orange from fake tan, wearing plaid pajamas like a cartoon character. nevertheless, he grinned when he saw henrik, bright white teeth practically glowing in his mouth. "schneeplestein!" he boomed, throwing out his arms for a hug that henrik wasn't sure he wanted but felt obliged to accept. "haven't seen you at work in yonks! where've you been, friend? come inside!" he clapped henrik's back, to which he began coughing wildly. the other man didn't appear to notice. "i have another friend inside you may want to see - she also visited unexpectedly, haha! is this a surprise party or something?"

henrik couldn't answer. his head was suddenly spinning, and without warning, he grabbed at the man's shoulder as he collapsed to the floor.

"oh - oh, jeez! schneep, are you alright?" the man asked, yanking him back to his feet. "son of a monkey - what did you do to your leg and your back?"

"parker - don't - i -" henrik ran out of words and simply let parker drag him inside, hardly able to stand up himself. the man rambled on and on as henrik stared, awe struck, at all the intricate decorations and paintings on the walls. "nice place," he managed to say. "it's… changed a bit, since since i was last here."

"it sure has!" parker laughed loudly, guiding him towards what henrik remembered to be the kitchen, if it hadn't been renovated into a ballroom. "me and molly got pay rises, her especially - don't know what i'd do without that woman, by the way - and we redecorated! i like it much better. what do you think, schneep?"

"yeah," henrik agreed weakly. "lovely. also, i've mentioned that i'm not fond of the nickname -"

"and these are our dogs, bacon and hashbrown!" parker interrupted, gesturing towards the fluffy white dogs that were padding behind their owner, tongues hanging out. "very clever names, molly chose them. do you have a cat?"

"my brother has one -"

"ah, so that explains why they're so enthusiastic. they love cat smells. ellie, schneep's here!"

henrik paled as they entered the kitchen and he saw who it was that was sitting at the table.

a woman. long brown hair, a pale, heart shaped face, dark painted lips forming the shape of an "o". henrik didn't blame her; he was doing the same thing. "el - why are you here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," she snapped, scraping her chair back and standing. "nathan, what is henrik doing here?"

parker held up both hands beside his head - not that henrik was looking at him. his eyes were pinned on the furious looking woman at the table, her yellow-brown eyes stormy. she hadn't changed a bit in the six months it had been since he'd last seen her. he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting.

"i didn't invite anyone!" parker cried. "i'm still in my damn nightclothes!"

ellie and henrik simply stared at each other for a long moment, until henrik cried out in sudden pain and grasped one of the kitchen chairs. parker helped him sit, propping his leg up on another chair in front of him.

"what happened?" ellie asked, concern darkening her face despite everything. she shuffled over as parker rolled up his trouser leg, hissing through his teeth in sympathy.

"jeez louise, schneep, these are some bad burns," parker commented. "what the heck did you do? did someone hurt you? should we call a hospital?"

henrik shook his head rapidly. "no, no, no," he babbled desperately. this had so been a bad idea. "i - i need a lift, if that's ok. to the golf club a little ways away. i would have walked, but -"

"oh no, you can't walk like this!" parker exclaimed. "especially not - you could get an infection - what burned you, tell me th-"

he suddenly cut off, eyes glazing over unnaturally. he stood up straight almost robotically before turning and leaving the room. henrik watched him go, confused, before turning to ellie.

"what was that?" he laughed awkwardly, before his face fell. her expression, too, was completely blank for a moment before returning to its previous rage.

"why did you never call?" she asked angrily, as though having forgotten everything they'd just been saying. henrik blinked, wondering how to reply.

"i - well, i…" he trailed off, looking away. "i don't know."

he could feel ellie's eyes on him. the guilt burned underneath his skin.

"six months, henrik," she said softly. "are you that much of a coward? do you always date women then leave them on read for months?"

henrik wanted to argue that he couldn't have left her on read because he'd only ever read her messages from the notification bar, never clicking them, but decided that was maybe a bad thing to bring up at this moment in time. "i didn't mean to," he mumbled. "i got overwhelmed. i'm so sorry, ellie. you deserve better than that."

she paused, staring down. "you're a douchebag," she told her clasped hands.

"i know," henrik agreed miserably. he tapped his fingers on his thighs. "i, uh, hope you have been doing ok. i should have checked up on you. i… haven't exact been very social with anyone recently. things have been happening, which i know is not an excuse for what i did, but… yeah."

she nodded. "i've been doing ok, i guess. nathan's been good to me. he was the only one who kept in touch after i left work."

henrik bobbed his head, guilt eating him up. they sat in awkward silence for a couple minutes until parker came back into the room. "found my keys!" he announced cheerfully, waving them in the air. he had also changed clothes to a pale blue button up and black dress trousers. he looked like he was going to a job interview. "now let's take you…" his blue eyes clouded over again. "where was i taking you?"

"um… hecate golf club." henrik glanced back and forth between parker and ellie, confused. "are you two ok?"

ellie got to her feet suddenly, not looking directly at henrik. "i'll leave too," she said loudly. "i should probably be getting home too. i'll drive myself. thank you, nathan, for your hospitality."

"anytime," he said with a smile. "see you, els. come on, schneeplestein, i gotta get you there before molly gets home. i'm not supposed to leave the dogs home alone for too long."

had they completely forgot about the injuries on his leg and back? henrik stood on shaky legs and limped to the door and outside, where two cars were in the driveway. parker walked over to his car (a mercades benz) and threw open the door casually. "hurry up! i'll get her started, let's just…"

"henrik?" ellie asked quickly, lowering her voice so parker couldn't hear. she turned to face him fully, eyes large. "your whole not talking to me thing… was that because of… the reason i left work? i know people were gossiping, and -"

"mein gott, no!" henrik exclaimed. he shook his head rapidly, rushing to explain. "ellie, i understand - if the whole gossip bullshit is true, then i completely understand. mental health is - it's much more important than work, ok? i get that."

ellie hummed softly, seemingly unconvinced. henrik softened. "perle," he murmured. "did you - did you ever wonder why i took so many breaks from work myself?"

she blinked, but before she could say a word, parker called him over again. "come on, we don't have all day!" he cried, and henrik finally ducked into the car, watching ellie step back.

"i'll call you this time," henrik promised. "i swear."

she said nothing, but the corner of her mouth twitched. henrik sat back in his seat, breathing deeply.

"hecate golf club, here we come," parker told him. henrik craned round to see ellie out the window. she was standing in the driveway still, but she was smiling softly.

the drive to hecate was rather awkward, especially given that lucas was their driver.

"are you like, the official chauffeur of hecate?" marvin asked sarcastically from the back seat. chase had called shotgun, and was awkwardly tapping his seat with his nails as lucas drove.

"kinda, actually!" lucas said cheerfully. "my main magic specialty is shields and protection, after all. i make a good chauffer."

"really?" chase said, looking up at lucas with wide eyes. "marvin can do protection spells and stuff, is that what you do?"

"kinda," lucas said again. "marvin here is a very skilled magician - one of the best i've seen. he can probably do the spells better than me, not gonna lie." he laughed, and marvin sunk lower in his seat, glaring out the window and listening to the other two chatter on and on.

he wasn't sure how chase was so calm, given what they'd just heard. everything was falling apart and jackie was partially responsible - marvin refused to believe it. a few people acting odd and a strange magic smell wasn't exactly the end of the world. not only that, but the possibility that henrik could be in danger made marvin feel sick, and anti had fucking drained his phone before he could finish the call. god, he hoped he was ok. "are we nearly there?" marvin interrupted. "i can barely see out the bloody windows, and i'm tired of having anti on my shoulder."

marvin shoved anti off to accentuate his point. anti, half conscious, groaned and weakly batted at marvin's legs before slumping against the car door.

"nearly there, yeah," lucas told him. "miss kamata asked me personally to take you there. it must be big stuff. is it about your brother?"

marvin hesitated. "yeah," he mumbled. "i guess."

when they drove up to the parking lot, chase peered through the window curiously. "so many cars," he noticed. "and people. i thought this wasn't a real golf club?"

"it's not," lucas said, parking the car in an empty space. "a bunch of this is all illusions, to keep up the pretense of this being an active organization. well, it is an active organization, but not… a normal, active golf club. that's it. yeah."

"while do you act as a golf club?" chase asked. "like, out of everything you could choose…"

"because it's easier to hide," lucas said. the car stopped fully, the locks on the doors clicking open. "no one important notices an expensive golfing place. that's why they chose this area to base it in too, i think. not only is this one of the more magical areas of the city, but it's subtle. blends in with all the other rich people shit."

"so some parts of the city are more magical than others?" chase asked. he and lucas stepped out of the car, leaving marvin and anti in the backseat. marvin frowned - chase knew all this stuff, why was he asking?

"yep!" lucas said, flashing chase a grin. "especially in brighton. brighton is one of the more magical places of the world. mostly cause there was a resurgence of magic here in the last few years. no one knows why, but it's good for us. our branch of hecate is pretty powerful, considering."

marvin rolled his eyes. "hey, can someone help with anti, please?" he called. the two men startled, like they'd forgotten he was there.

"oh - oh, shit, sorry!" chase spluttered, turning bright red. he and lucas helped marvin to get anti out the car, and together they dragged him inside.

two magicians were waiting for them at the door. "mcloughlin?" one woman asked, and marvin nodded. anti moaned softly, stirring and attempting to straighten himself.

"miss kamata asked us to take the sick one to our medbay," said a man with purple hair. "she'll speak with him later. you're to come upstairs to her office so she can fill you in on the current situation."

"my brother's coming here," marvin said. "his name is henrik von schneeplestein. looks just like us but - shorter hair than all of us, uh, with a streak of grey. glasses. he's hurt, i think. will you keep a lookout for him?"

the magicians exchanged glances. "we'll see what we can do," the woman told him. she gestured for him to follow. "come on, we'll take you to her."

some other magicians took anti from marvin's arms to help him along to the medbay while they walked through the halls. marvin had seen it all before, but chase was in awe, craning his head back to look. "woah!" he cried, spinning on the spot. "this place is epic!"

"it's under an illusion," the male magician told him. "to all those without magic blood, it's just a normal place. it's a risk to mask it that way, as those with evil intent could theoretically discover us through that, but we have other ways of hiding such things. besides, we help those with magic. do you have magic, young man?"

chase shook his head sadly. "i wish," he said longingly. "i've always wanted to do magic."

"but you can see through our illusions," the woman said, perplexed. "you have magic blood."

"just from my brothers," chase said casually. "marvin does a lot of miscellaneous spells, stuff he discovers, and jackie has photokinesis. henrik can heal minor injuries as well, i'm pretty sure."

"a healer?" the magicians look at each other again. "we don't have many of those. i think your brother could be a useful asset to hecate."

"wait, wait, wait," marvin interrupted. he moved between the magicians and his younger brother, holding his hands up. "you're not here to fucking recruit my brothers, especially not the ones who aren't here." he shot chase a look, and chase shrank under his gaze. "we probably shouldn't talk about that stuff right now anyway."

they continued up the stairs in silence.

"sorry, marvin," chase mumbled to him. "didn't mean to say too much. i'm not used to all this."

marvin just sighed. "don't mention jamie," was all he said in response.

they were taken to kazuki's door and the man went to knock, but the door swung open almost as soon as his knuckles graced the wood. "thank you alana, zack," came kazuki's voice from inside, and the doors quickly shut behind them.

"kazuki," marvin said cooly, standing straight. "explain what's going on, please. what's happening to the people?"

"hello to you too, marvin," kazuki said. she was standing in front of her desk, wearing a red suit with her hair loose around her shoulders. she nodded at the other two men with him. "chase brody. lucas. good to see you two. lucas, thank you for driving them here."

"my pleasure, miss kamata," lucas said with a smile and an awkward hand twirl. "shall i go?"

kazuki considered. "do you wish for him to stay?" she asked. the question was directed at marvin, but chase answered.

"yes, please," he said, giving lucas a smile. lucas smiled back, surprised, and chase turned back to kazuki confidently. "i like this guy."

kazuki's lips upturned, and suddenly the four of them were sitting in an odd circle next to her desk. there were no seats under them, just what felt like solid air. "cool," chase breathed, and he giggled. kazuki tittered softly at his amazed reaction before turning serious again.

"so let's talk about your brother," she started. "we know he stole your magic - the black magic spells you discovered."

"i never performed them," marvin said quickly. "i just found them and never would have -"

"yes, we've been through this," kazuki sighed. she shifted in her invisible air chair, possibly using magic to make it more comfortable. "but here's the thing. we... know of the organization he sold it to."

marvin turned to look at chase and lucas, who both looked surprised. "we do?" lucas said uncertainly.

"let me rephrase that. the higher ups of hecate know," kazuki said. she leaned back onto the desk behind her, blue eyes scrutinizing their reactions. "the leaders of each branch around the world."

"this is a worldwide problem?" marvin said. rage suddenly rose in his chest like boiling water. "why did i never know? i was practically top of hecate when i was with you!"

kazuki raised an eyebrow. "were you?" she said flatly. "even your ex boyfriend was higher ranking than you."

chase piped up while marvin spluttered indignantly. "there are rankings in hecate?"

"in a way," hecate told him. "but that's a conversation for another day. this other organization…" she sighed. "they were once part of hecate."

no one said anything. marvin blinked rapidly, mouth hanging open, but couldn't summon any words. kazuki continued. "hecate was originally a rebel organization founded by british magicians in 1735, when the witchcraft act was passed by parliament. you don't need all the history, though. magic was highly disliked by many back then, is all you need. we named ourselves "restitutio", latin for "restoration." our cause spread. we took in magicians and everyone who did magic and trained them. we hid. but some of us did not want to hide. some of us… turned to darker ways of life."

there was a dramatic pause. chase cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. lucas sniffed loudly. marvin tapped his foot against the floor.

kazuki twirled her hand absentmindedly. a few trinkets floated off her desk and round her hand. "some of them wanted to fight. didn't want to keep our magic hidden. they… did many horrible things. people died. many of them. this was near the end of the 1700s, and many of the original values of restitutio had been lost." she took a breath, glancing up at her hands. "eventually, we, the hecate side of restitutio, took as much dark magic as we could and the others left. it was more recently that things began to change."

"what was the change?" lucas asked.

"there were a few," kazuki said. "all happening within a few years. first off, we discovered that the darker half of us had been hiding for years, cultivating dark magic by infiltrating our ranks. then, around the same time, magic itself changed. it seemed it learned to hide itself, through a barrier we called the veil."

"i didn't know all this," marvin muttered. then he raised his voice. "is this another thing only higher ups know?"

"you should know about the veil," kazuki said. "it hides our magic from nonmag eyes. it was discovered a few years before the dark organization."

"and.. when were these discovered?" chase said, voice low. he had a strange look on his face, and didn't turn to look at marvin.

"well, the veil was discovered on, i believe, october 10th of 2014," kazuki said, seemingly not noticing how marvin and chase jolted. "and we found the first traces of the black magic on october 31st of 2016. we thought it was a halloween prank of sorts, at first - are you two ok?"

chase shook his head rapidly, bouncing on his air seat and waving his hands, slapping his thighs lightly. "we're fine," he said firmly. "fuck, we're fine - what does jackie have to do with this? where does he tie in?"

kazuki frowned, though didn't comment. "his magic… is unnatural. you say he's a user of photokinesis?" the brothers nodded, and kazuki took a breath. "that's not good. photokinesis is a branch of light magic. whatever magic the organization gave him - i'm sorry for always calling it that, it doesn't have a name that we know of - we don't know what that magic is. it's dark, and it's corrupting him."

"it comes from a necklace," chase said. "does that mean anything?"

kazuki swore under her breath. "it could be… we'll talk about that later. here's the important point."

she leaned forward, eyes cold. "the magic in him is fighting for power. and he clearly has never been trained in controlling either branch of magic. and ever since the explosion in that motel in new romney, the veil has been… breaking."

the silence was deafening. marvin felt like it was crushing him, his breaths coming quicker with the effort of staying upright. "could be a coincidence," he said, but his voice was very small. "it can't be�� breaking, what do you mean -"

"the two worlds are trying to collide and for some reason they're physically unable to now," kazuki said. "he's tearing a hole in the veil, in the barrier between magic and… normality, i suppose."

marvin was about to finally say something - he wasn't sure what, just something - when a man burst into the room. zack, the purple haired magician from earlier, was gasping and panting for breath, trying to force out words.

"zack," kazuki said, narrowing her eyes and standing. the air chairs under marvin and the others lifted them up onto their feet and promptly dissolved underneath them. "this better be important."

"it - it is, miss kamata," he wheezed. "we've been breached. one of our own has been taken."

it all happened so fast.

parker dropped henrik off at the gates of hecate, not even heading into the car park. "see you soon, schneeplestein! come visit, i'm sure molly would love to see you," he said with a dazed grin, eyes unfocused. henrik stepped out of the car and closed the door, smiling nervously at the doctor's strange expression.

"are you alright, parker?" he asked with a small laugh. "you are acting very strange."

"what? just - just fine!" parker exclaimed. he didn't look at henrik. "go do your… golf. i'll be seeing you."

henrik swallowed, straightening as much as he could with his injured leg. "yes," he mumbled. "i'm sure you will."

parker's grin was far too wide. he turned the car, preparing to drive off down the road, when the car glitched and disappeared.

henrik stood in absolute shook for a moment.

the car glitched. and disappeared. it had glitched in a burst of static and vanished completely, leaving nothing behind. not parker. not anything.

ok, so henrik was hallucinating. the magic aaron had hit him with was making him hallucinate. he blinked and turned away, suddenly aware of his head pounding, feeling slightly sick. there was a strange smell in the air. something wrong. he sniffed, realizing it was a very specific scent. like… smoke. like smoke through an open window.

"henrik?"

he jumped, eyes focusing on the man in front of him. as soon as they did, he soured. "raymond," he said with slight disdain. "fancy seeing you here."

raymond snorted. "i work here, friend," he said, sarcasm in the last word. "what are -" his brown eyes widened as he took in henrik's wounds. "oh, bloody hell!"

henrik grabbed the man's arms for support. "don't feel well," he managed. "ich glaube, ich könnte krank sein…"

he stumbled back and promptly threw up on the concrete. raymond's noises of disgust reached his ears through his retching, and as he wiped his mouth he just managed to decipher "fuck, dude, you got vom on my fuckin' suit!"

"sorry," henrik said weakly. his vision was beginning to blur, blackness creeping into the corners of his eyes. "g'hit… car, it glitch…"

"i am not looking after my ex's sick brother," raymond said disgustedly. he reached up and tapped a device behind his ear. "hey, some guy down here is sick. probably a bad hex or something. i dunno, man, it doesn't look good. physical too. leg, back. should i send him to the medbay?"

the more the man spoke, the dizzier henrik felt. someone else was talking to him. he thought he couldn't hear what they were saying.

" - here, come inside," raymond was saying. "we'll check you over. alana, open the spell for a sec so i can get him in."

henrik passed out then. but later, people filled him in on what had happened.

the spells on the gates to the car park has briefly been lowered to let henrik inside. but the second they were down was all that was needed. two men had burst in, ripping through the air with magic that reeked of smoke and something else, something unplaceable. the attack hadn't even really been an attack; it had lasted maybe a minute. when henrik woke in the medbay, he was informed that raymond had been taken, kidnapped, captured, and that was that.

it all happened so fast. so fast.

not only that, but the magicians didn't know what the magic in henrik's body was. dark stuff, they said. incurable, at least by them, they said. it must have come from the same two men who had broken into hecate, they said. they thought black magic didn't exist anymore, they said.

henrik was numb to it all.

"i'm sorry i wasn't there!" marvin had said when he came to see him, chase and another blonde man in tow. "i tried to contact you, anti drained my phone - henny, i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have left you alone!"

henrik hurt. jackie was truly gone. hecate had been breached. a man had beem captured. henrik didn't say a word.

fuck, it had all happened so fast.

"you did it, babe!"

"we did it! fuck, it was far easier than i expected. i can say this now, but i was pretty certain we weren't going to manage it."

jackie laughed at aaron's words, kissing him before drawing back with a grin on his face. "honestly? me neither," he giggled. "but look at what we got! far, far better than i could have hoped - oh, he doesn't like that, does he?"

the man chained to the chair in front of them narrowed his eyes, rage burning in them. jackie bent down in front of him, grinning wide. "been a while since i last saw you, raymond! when was it? god, i can't remember. was it the time that you came round demanding marvin paid back your money? was it the time marvin caught you in bed with some fucking nomag twink and you and him had that screaming match? was it the time we saw you in the street with your new boyfriend and marvin started crying so i nearly hit you?" jackie flicked raymond's nose, still giggling like a child. "god, every day since then i've wished i'd beaten the fucking shit out of you. i used to be disgusted with myself for thinking that kind of stuff too, you know? but now… i think i've embraced it."

he tapped a sleek black dagger on raymond's face, just on top of the gag shoved in his mouth. "you like my knife? my boyfriend got it for me. this is him, by the way. say hi, aaron!"

aaron waved from the corner where he was leaning, resting on a blue baseball bat. raymond's eyes were wild with fear and anger, and he shook his head to try and get the blade away.

"what's that?" jackie said, pretending to listen like a kid playing with a doll. "you want to talk? certainly!" he slashed the knife down the man's face, cutting through the gag but the skin underneath as well. raymond screamed in pain, but cut himself off as quickly as he could, biting down on his lip and panting.

"bitch," raymond spat. "what are you? a demon? what type of magic is this?" blood dribbled down his chin. "and - ha, why did you break in? idiot, i would have left anyway - do you not understand how high security hecate is? you got in, and all you did was, what, knock out your sick brother and kidnap me?"

jackie leaned back, sticking out his lip and looking upset. then his smirk returned like it had never left, and he threw back his head to roar with laughter. aaron giggled from the corner before coming to stand next to his boyfriend.

"oh - oh, raymond, no," jackie giggled, wiping at his eyes. "oh, you think we - you think we just grabbed you and left? nooo, no no no. time is an illusion, my bastard friend!"

"we got so much done!" aaron said joyfully. "all thanks to jackie's wonderful brother -"

"oh, stop it, mo chroí, we couldn't have done anything without your lovely magic!" jackie elbowed aaron and the two dissolved into peals of laughter while raymond watched with a forced neutral expression.

"what do you want with me?" he said, trying to keep his voice flat. "i don't know what information you think i know, but it's nothing good. i'm not as high ranked as you might think, i swear, i -"

"shut up now, ok?" aaron suddenly interrupted. "we were having a moment there and you ruined it. fuck, they're never polite, are they, jackson?"

"i don't know, this is only my second prisoner!" jackie joked. then he rolled his eyes. "and we don't fucking care what rank you are, we just snatched the first guy we saw. it just so happened to be my brother's filthy, cheating whore ex." he leaned forward, right into raymond's face. "you're my ticket to a better life, bitch. look at that. you have a fucking use after all."

jackie turned to aaron, gripping his arm and turning him to face him. "they're really gonna love him, aren't they?" he cooed. "will he be good enough?"

"course he will, babe," aaron said. "he's hecate, he - what does he do, teleport? he teleports. that's interesting, they might like that."

"'they?'" raymond shouted angrily. he struggled against his chains, grunting. "who is 'they?' why can't i teleport? is this - is this about what i did to marvin? i never meant to hurt him!"

without warning, jackie slapped raymond right across the face. "i already fucking told you that it's nothing to do with you," he snapped, dropping the soft tone from before. "i saw you and took you. we kind of had other priorities at that moment. you fucking got it? jesus shit, dude, not everything's about you - although, i know you think it is, huh?" he hit raymond again, sending him reeling. "do you know how many nights i spent holding marvin while he cried, feeling worthless, depressed - you meant so much to him but you are nothing but a repulsive -"

"jackson, calm," aaron soothed, taking his face in hand. "you can't hurt him too bad. they'll get upset, it'll show a lack of control. that's something they look for. do you want to be accepted or not?"

"accepted?" raymond cried, voice high in pitch. "are you selling me to a cult or something?"

"nope," aaron said cheerfully. "much worse."

jackie growled in raymond's direction. "fucking bastard. the organization better see self control from me if it means i can't beat the living daylights outta this guy."

"they will," aaron reassured. "they will. then we can properly be together, and you can't -"

jackie suddenly screamed, a howl of complete agony that made raymond throw his head back like it would save him. jackie clawed at his chest, doubling over as his whole form… his form, his body… raymond cringed. the man's form was flickering, like a glitching computer screen. and as he watched, raymond started to smell something. a stinking, magical smell so thick it almost made him choke. it smelled like smoke. like smoke creeping through an open window.

"jackson, jackson - fuck, let's get out of here," aaron said, pushing jackie out the door of the small room raymond was being kept in. aaron whipped back round to look at him as he left, glaring. "get comfortable," he said. "you might be in here a while."

the door shut behind them, leaving raymond cold with the taste of copper and smoke on his tongue.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #chase brody #jackieboy man #antisepticeye #tho he was barely here this chapter i'm sorrh we'll see him soon #lucas ross #kazuki kamata #aaron mckenzie #the fall

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twit-moonstar · 5 years ago

Text

Up for a long time - Brian May x Reader

A/N: This was for a hosted Valentine’s day secret santa but I couldn’t finished it in time bc life. I am really sorry I’m posting this so late

Please consider reblogging and commenting what do you think about the fic

Warnings: none (just a note: this is situated on 1977/1978)

Words: 2K+

Summary: Y/N was invited by Brian May to accompany him during the Sheer Heart Attack tour and as its ending gets closer, she expresses her sadness over having to say him goodbye soon, unless… maybe she doesn’t have to.

A blissful sigh left Brian’s lips as you cuddle against his side, his long fingers petting your hair lazily.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could stay here forever, just the two of us? I’m gonna miss this,” you say with melancholy, as if you parting ways was a matter of fact—because, well, it was. What were the chances that he would want to keep seeing you? He was a guitarist in a rising band that was getting more and more famous. You were beginning to feel sad at the thought of missing him even if you were still by his side. It was strange to you how at ease he makes you feel even though you meet barely two months ago. It’s not an everyday occurrence that a cute musician invites you to come along on tour with his band to America but you weren’t stupid enough to miss on this chance. Besides, he had a certain charm that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, like he wasn’t even trying. Just like that, he could smile, and you would do anything he asked. A few minutes passed, in which he didn’t replied, and you started to think about what you had said. Did you cross a line there? Was that inappropriate? But being with him felt so right… and you were sure he felt the same way about you. Well, you were until now. Finally, he spoke. “What if you didn’t have to?” You smiled, feeling relief that he wasn’t weirded out by your comment. “What? What do you mean?” “What if - if we got married?” His words were shaky, his voice soft and quiet in the dim room. You look up at him. “Are you joking? Because, let me you tell you, it’s not funny,” you state. He shakes his head no. “I’m not.“ You get away from him, sitting up on the bed to look at him. It’s hard to describe the look on his eyes, it’s very serious but also a little dreamy, like he has his head on the clouds. And you might be the very reason why. “Really?” You say softly as if you were expecting him to laugh and declare it was indeed a joke but you know him well; he would never be so cruel. Your mother once told you that you must see a man getting happy, tired, sad and, above all, angry and stressed before you got married. She believed that if you saw him in such states, you would know if you were ready to handle sharing your life with him. Despite knowing him for so little time, you had already seen how he acted when he wasn’t feeling well and it never seemed like something that you couldn’t soothe. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, then,” you smiled, “ask me properly.” “Y/N Y/L/N, would to make me the honour of being my wife?” “Yes!” you exclaimed, throwing yourself to him and embracing him on a tight hug. He took your face between his hands and kissed you, smiling when you broke apart. “Well, then, we’re engaged now.”

“When– when do you want to do it, though?” You asked. You wouldn’t lie, you weren’t able to contain your excitement. You were going to get married! It felt like a dream, like you would wake up in any moment in an empty bed on the hotel. “Tomorrow maybe?” Brian suggested. “It’s my day off before we get going to the next city.” “Okay,” you accepted. “While you’re at rehearsal, I’ll make sure we have what we need to do it.” He kissed you again. “Alright but first, let’s get breakfast.”

Standing in front of a little mirror on the reception, you check your lipstick, even though Brian said he wouldn’t pay for any photographs here—both of you were afraid they would be leaked and all over the magazines. Despite all the paparazzi constantly following the band, Brian had done his best effort to protect your privacy as much as he could and you weren’t quite ready to give up your anonymity just yet. Besides, you were aware that a secret wedding with a woman Brian met just three months ago wouldn’t do wonders for his reputation. A pair of hands sneaked up on your waist, hugging you softly. “Are you ready?” He whispered on your ear. You turned around, your arms surrounding his neck. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you assure him and his lips curve up into a smile. A blonde woman came up to you—her name was Marie, according to the tag on her blazer— and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, the venue is ready. Follow me, please,” she said and started walking you guide you. She opened the door and a wedding march started to sound as you entered the room and walked towards the altar, Brian holding your hand the entire time. The Victorian Venue was beautiful, so beautiful you almost regretted eloping—though both Roger and Freddie weren’t at the hotel and Deacy and Veronica were with their kids—. It was a large room, simply decorated with cascading silk drapes and a pair of pillars with candelabras as the wedding altar. It was all very white, and you were glad you had chosen to wear a light blue dress that contrasted with the room. The officiant, a middle aged men, looked as you stand in front of each other. Brian had a smile plastered across his face, reaching his hazel eyes and illuminating his beautiful features. “Brian May and Y/N Y/L/N, today you enter as individuals, but you will leave here as husband and wife, blending your lives, expanding your family ties, and embarking upon the grandest adventure of human interaction,” the officiant said. “Brian and Y/N, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. Please, repeat after me–” “Actually, I’d like to have the word,” you interrupt him, shyly, and Brian looks at you with surprise. You hadn’t discussed having your own vows and he clearly didn’t expected it but you had been thinking about them since last night. “Of course.” “I - I know that for anyone outside us this will look rushed after only a few weeks but in that time you have made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I’ve seen you in the most intimate situations and I know I’m ready to spend my life with you. It might not be easy– but nothing every really is and I’m ready to whatever is coming at us.” Brian’s smile and eyes were warm, full of fondness. His hands squeezed yours briefly, a silent ‘I love you.’ “Y/N, meeting you wasn’t on my plans. I’d have never guessed that I’d fall so hard, so fast for you but your sweet ways, your genuine excitement for life and new experiences, your energy and the passion you put on everything you do made me feel like a fifteen years old boy falling in love for the first time. I am enchanted by you, and I’m so happy I get the chance to try to make you as happy as you make me.” You feel your smile getting bigger, so wide it almost hurted but you didn’t cared. It was a nice kind of pain, it meant you couldn’t contain the happiness you were feeling inside you and for a moment you thought about how you wanted to proclaim to the entire world that you were married to the lofe of your life. You squeezed his hands for a second. You both let go of your hands to get the rings. His was one he already had but rarely used and yours was one you had bought on a market on one of your solo adventures exploring the city while he was working. They weren’t permanent rings; “I promise I’ll get you a proper ring once we’re on London again,” he had said, and you assured him you were okay with these as of now. Despite the band’s success, you knew he wasn’t really getting much money and didn’t care he didn’t buy an expensive ring. “Brian May, please repeat after me as you place the ring on Y/N Y/L’s ring. With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever.” “With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever,” he recited softly as he put the ring on you finger. After you repeat it, you both sign the marriage certificate and the officiant finally says the words that linked your lives for the rest of it. “By the authority vested in my by the State of San Francisco, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Brian did as told, reaching down to kiss you softly, taking his time to show you how much he loved you on his gentle movements. “I love you, Mrs. May,,” he said once you broke apart. You giggle. “I love you too, Mr May.”

“Honey, I’m home!” Brian exclaimed, and you hear the closing door. You smile as he enters the room and leaves the box with Chinese food on the little table in front of the couch. You sit properly and take a look at what he brought. “My hero! I was starving,” you say and he smiles. After a week of living on Brian’s apartment using his clothes, you had finally gotten around to your old apartment and got your stuff. It was mostly books, clothes and some decorative ornaments; you didn’t have any furniture except for your bookshelf—and a mattress that you had already sold. Brian was helping you to put everything in place, but you were hungry and send him to get food—your treat. “They didn’t have fried rice, but I brought you Chow Mei,” he says, opening the box for you to see. The smell is delicious, and your stomach seems to rush you to eat when it growls. “That’s fine,” you say and take your noodles. “Do you need help?” Brian chuckles as you struggle with the chopsticks. You pout and nod. He takes his own stick. “The trick is to just move the top stick, the other has to stay still,” Brian shows you as he takes a piece of tofu with ease. You imitate him ans after a few tries, you finally succeed. “It’s way more difficult when you’re eating noodles,” you say before Brian’s amused gaze. “Do you want to try?” He asks, holding a piece of his tofu to you. You lean, doubtful, and take a bite. It tastes spicy and hot, so you swallow it and drink a little soda. “What does it have?” “Lots of pepper,” he replies. “It’s good, but I wouldn’t eat too much,” you say honestly and he smiles as he eats. “It’s an acquired taste, I guess.” “I want to go back to college,” you comment after a while and he smiles at you, interested. “To study Law again?” “No, that’s… that’s what my parents pushed me to do. I’ll like to study something related to Theatre, maybe. I don’t know, but I need to do something. I don’t like just being lying around,” you say softly. The week living with Brian, having no responsibilities was nice but you needed to do something. Besides, you wouldn’t let Brian pay for all the bills. You were a team now, and you needed (and wanted) to do your part. “I was also thinking maybe I could give some piano or bass lessons, to get some money,” “That’s a great idea,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but smile too. “I can help you with some posters to promote your classes.” “That would be very nice,” you reply, leaning towards him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Hey, I have a surprise for you!” Brian suddenly says and gets up quickly, walking into the room and coming back after finding whatever he was looking for. He sits next to you and takes your hand, looking briefly at the ring you used to get married before looking at you. “Remember when we stayed at my parents’ house for the weekend?” You smile. “Of course I do. I was nervous as hell the whole drive. And during dinner. Basically all three days.” “Well, you had nothing to worry about because my mother loved you and actually gave me this for you.” He shows you a ring. It was made from gold and had one single tiny round diamond. Your mouth hangs open as Brian takes off your old ring and puts the golden on your finger. “Do you like it?” He sounds anxious as you simply stare at the ring and the way it shines beautifully with the natural light coming from the windows. “It’s beautiful,” you say, moving your hand so the light reflects off the ring. You finally look at him. “Did you say your mother gave you this?” He nods. “I can’t accept this,” you say, starting to take it off but he takes your hands to stop you. “Why not?” “Because it’s real, Bri! This diamond is real and probably worth good money, who knows how much your parents spent on it?” “It was my grandmother’s and she isn’t… she’s dead.” “Oh.” You look at the ring. “Still, why would your mother give me this? She barely knows me.” “Because she liked you and sees why I married you,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand and caressing your skin with his thumb. “Besides, she saw you didn’t have a ring and said it was unacceptable. This is actually an engagement one but let’s ignore that.” You smile. “Alright, I’m going to keep it as long as you love me.” “Well, get used to it because you’re up for a long time,” Brian says and brings you to his lap to give you a soft kiss.

#brian may x reader #brian may x you #brian may x y/n #brian may x female reader #brian may fanfic #brian may fanfiction

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ckentdaily · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the World

“Gosh, I’m awful sorry,” Clark coughed, after inhaling half of the finishing powder that the makeup artist, Alice, just applied. Alice was nice. Alice only asked him questions about Bruce Wayne and whether or not the little husky mix he adopted was as cute as she seemed in the photos. After Clark had reassured her that, yes, Ace was adorable and Bruce was spoiling her, he shook her hand with both of his and thanked her twice.

The dressing room was silent again. He stood up and stretched his legs, after prying the narrow wooden chair from his hips. No one on set had expected him to be this big, which resulted in some last minute seating changes... but only once he was in front of the camera. A little discomfort now was fine. He just didn’t want to be remembered backstage for breaking a chair.

“Ok, Clark. Let’s decide who you’re gonna be today.” He squinted at himself in the mirror, not liking how the powder obscured the pores in his face. He leaned against the vanity and scrunched up his nose, then rolled his shoulders back. With his tie tucked and a confident smile, he stared at his reflection. One hand in his pocket. Feet shoulder width apart.

Too much like Superman.

He rolled his shoulders forward, higher by his ears, and let his weight shift to the right. He hunched forward and made sure his glasses were high on the bridge of his nose, with the black rim obscuring the space between his eyelids and brow. The lens were thick enough that his eyelashes would barely be seen, much less noticed.

Too much like Clark. Old Clark.

The Clark that hid from opportunities like these, and only scraped by in job interviews, scuttling through parties along the back wall until he faded into the background.

Clark didn’t want to be that Clark today. He didn’t want to be that Clark ever again if it meant he couldn’t be effective.

He straightened up, and took his hand out of his pocket, but he smiled again. Just a disarming, shy one, but enough that he didn’t look like he was prepared to jump out of his skin at any moment.

Better.

He buttoned his blazer and opened the door, just as he heard one of the crew telling Brandon, from sound, to grab the guest and bring him out.

“Showtime, huh?”

“If you’re just joining us, I’m Chuck Wilton, and as the Ukraine scandal unfolds, WGBS is bringing you an exclusive interview with the journalist, Clark Kent, who broke the story. Welcome Clark.” The introduction rolled off the older, gaunt looking man’s tongue with a practiced ease. Chuck appeared on millions of screens across Metropolis and the country for more than a decade. He was a familiar, no nonsense face in American homes.

And he was still too conservative for Clark’s liking. He could respect the man’s commitment to his work while disagreeing with his personal politics. Clark couldn’t relax entirely, even as he shook Chuck’s hand and sat down in the appropriately sized swivel chair, on his side of the desk. He knew not to close his eyes when the pitcher’s planning a curveball. Clark just didn’t know when it would come.

“Thanks for havin’ me, Chuck. I’m glad to be here,” Clark kept the drawl in his voice, as he let the button loose and set down his typed notes in front of him.

Chuck first asked about Clark’s conversations with Ambassador William Taylor, envoy to Ukraine, who returned stateside to testify in front of Congress about the President’s international transgressions. Clark answered calmly, laying out the timeline of the President withholding national aid to force another government to investigate his political opponents.

“That’s correct. President Trump asked for Kiev to investigate former Vice President Biden and would not release security aid until this was done. Requesting that a foreign government conduct a politically motivated investigation with the promise of something in return is not only illegal, but it’s not how the United States conducts foreign affairs.”

“And this single phone call, that we don’t have access to the transcript for, is enough for Speaker Pelosi to file the articles of impeachment? The testimony of a single civil servant has launched these closed door hearings in the SCIF?”

“Not just any civil servant, Chuck. Mr. Taylor is a decorated veteran who has served in nonpartisan roles under both Democratic and Republican administrations since 1985. He worked for the Department of Energy and NATO, ‘fore he began working internationally for the State Department.” Clark pushed back, still smiling, but dropping his hands to his lap to keep from gesturing as he spoke. “I think that in the coming days, you’ll see more and more folks comin’ forward, but this is on top of the previous and documented abuses of power by this administration since 2016.”

“Pelosi has hemmed and hawwed about keeping the scope narrow. If this is the event that finally lights the spark of impeachment, why couch it in the context of those other allegations? Isn’t the public ready to move on from the spectacle of the Speaker grasping at straws?” Chuck fixed Clark with a look over his glasses.

“I think that the latest Pew polls showing public support for a removal of the President from office answers that question better than either of us could. I think it can be argued that it may not have been politically viable to move to impeachment before now, ‘specially in light of the GOP’s shameful display yesterday in the SCIF.”

“Don’t they have the right to protest peacefully, as any other American group?”

Clark’s smile grew tight. “They’d have that right if it was an actual protest, but you’ve got to call it like it is, Chuck. They committed a federal crime. The two dozen or so elected officials barged into the SCIF, brought their cellphones in with them and tweeted from inside. The SCIF is a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. These rooms are designed to handle sensitive materials while matters of national security’re bein’ discussed.”

“They weren’t protesting, Mr. Wilton,” Clark took a deep breath, “They were obstructing justice and protesting the very rules they put into place durin’ the era of the filibuster, under President Obama. Electronics weren’t supposed to be in that room, because of the high risk of compromise by foreign agencies. Representative Gaetz knows that."

Chuck hummed unhappily, “Even if they simply wanted to be in the room during the hearing? Isn’t that a reasonable request?”

“If they were one of the Republicans on the congressional Intelligence committees that were supposed to be there? Certainly. But the fact is that those representatives-- from both parties, I might add-- were already in the room. Closed-door testimonies were standard practice durin’ the impeachment inquiries into former Presidents Clinton and Nixon.” Clark worked his jaw and continued. “Just because our current President might act like he’s above the law, doesn’t mean that his party should feel entitled to do the same.”

“I see. It says here that you’ve been at the Planet for two years?” Chuck opted to pivot, leaning back in his chair.

“Yessir, two years this December.” Clark clasped his hand in front of him, on top of the desk. His smile brightened again.

“Where have they been hiding you? Welcome to the world, Mr. Kent.”

“Aha, thank you, Chuck,” Clark laughed nervously.

“Why haven’t we heard from you before? It says here that this is the first time you’ve written on national politics for them. The last time your name was in the news, you were the news. A puff piece from a gossip columnist in Gotham about your current relationship.”

“I’m grateful to my editor, Perry White, for giving me the opportunity to inform the American people about what’s happening on Capitol Hill. I think that they want to hear more about if our Congress is going to impeach a sitting president in an election year, than they do about my personal life.” Clark glanced away and then forced himself to meet Chuck’s gaze again. Old Clark wouldn’t be allowed to finish this interview. “Wouldn’t you agree, Chuck?”

“I would.” Chuck smiled for the first time. His teeth were straight, but yellowed. “But they would also like to know if they’re receiving their news from a reliable source. What would you say to those that might think you’re just trying to keep your name in the papers?”

“The Daily Planet prides itself on integrity. That’s been true since the paper was founded. I think that this story could have been written by any of its reporters. My answer to those folks would be simple, Chuck: the article speaks for itself. Our investigative team has complied page by page summaries of the ambassador’s testimony, cross-referenced with additional witnesses since the probe began.”

Clark paused and turned away from Chuck to stare directly at the camera.

“Stories like this aren’t meant to catapult any one person into stardom or notoriety, they’re meant to keep hard-working Americans abreast of the issues that will have profound impacts on their lives. Make no mistake, Chuck, the American people have asked for the president to be held to the same standards as any other citizen. They have a right to know that some of the men and women that they voted into office aren’t only talkin’ the talk, they’re walkin’ the walk, and they’re ready to check the Executive Branch.”

“Powerful words from a new face. I’d like to thank today’s guest, Clark Kent, from The Daily Planet. I’m sure this won’t be the last we’ll see of him.” Chuck gestured to Clark, who nodded and waved, and then a relieved looking woman with a clipboard and a large headset gave the cue to cut to commercial.

#action post.#plot plot plot.#long post

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thdorkmagnet · 5 years ago

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Mother Knows Best (Star is Rapunzel AU)

A/N: Next up is Tangled!!

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Tangled belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners.

This is the story of how I died.... oh wow, sorry, that was way more intense then I thought it was going to be. D-Don't stop reading! This is actually a really fun story, I swear!

Marrrrcoooo, hurry up!! Get to the part about me already!

Umm, right, sorry Star. Okay, let's see, where was I? *ahem* Once upon a time....

Ugh, boring! Do you want to put the readers to sleep? Start off by telling them something really cool, something that's gonna draw them in. Like a... a monster fight!

Hey, who's telling this story here?

Sorry.

Okay anyways, this is the story of a beautiful young princess with magic golden hair that had the power to heal the sick and wounded-

That's me!

Star, shhh! For years, she lived locked away in a tower, hidden deep in the woods, kept there by an evil and controlling woman, who wanted nothing more than to horde the girl's gift for herself.

Yeah, cause she's a meanie!!

That and so she could live forever.

And also cause she's a meanie.

And the name of this princess was Rapunzel... I mean, Starunzel! Ugh, I mean Star.

Geez, Marco. You really don't know what you're doing, do you?

No, I'm sorry.

Aw, that's okay. How about we just start by showing what happened the day we first met so we don't confuse the readers anymore than we already have.

Yeah okay, that sounds good.

Great!

Soooo, how do we do that exactly?

Simple. We use the mystic and magical page break.

Page wha-

…

Star was excited, practically racing through her chores that morning, cleaning every inch of the well-kept tower she called home. What would normally take her fifteen minutes to complete, today only took her a mere ten, which was quite the accomplishment for her dragging around seventy feet of long, blond, and sometimes unruly hair wherever she went. Though the downside of this was of course, that she now had the rest of the day to herself with literally nothing to do forcing her to find some other way to fight off the horrible enemy she was in almost constant battle with...boredom, but today she didn't really mind too much, her excitement over the special day helping to keep her mind occupied.

Once she was finished with the last of the cleaning, she looked around at the neat and tidy room in satisfaction, grinning with pride as every last inch of the tower seemed to be sparkling. “There, perfect, if I do say so myself,” she said boastfully, adding, “which I do.” She giggled at her own joke, while putting away her broom.

“Hey Janna!” she called to the ceiling of the tower, which was dark and not very well-lit. “Jan! Come on Janna, wake up,” she tried again, with still no reply. She frowned, before grabbing a strand of blond hair, flinging it out like some sort of lasso, where it wrapped around a lever that was normally just out of reach for her. She gave her hair a yank, pulling the lever down and opening up one of the windows above, lighting up the scaffolding of the tower, as well as the small purple bat currently snoozing up there.

Janna flinched as her small, fluffy body was encased in the hideous light, keeping her eyes glued shut, as she wrapping her wings tightly around herself to shield her from the intense beams, before going back to sleep. Star blinked, before groaning as her only friend ignored her, her cheeks puffing up cutely in anger. She wasted no time as she grabbed a bigger strand of hair and threw it up toward the beam the small bat was sleeping under. It flew over the beam before wrapping around the beam next to it, Star now able to use her hair as a rope as she climbed her own blond locks up to where Janna slept.

Once she was next to her animal friend, she gently poked her with her finger over and over again waiting for a reaction, a wide smile spread across her face. “Come on, sleepyhead,” she said softly, as she tried to gently awaken her bat friend.. “Wakey-wakey.”

Finally, Janna sighed, unfolding her wings and giving her a blank and tired stare, clearly wanting to know why she was being woken up so early in the morning. “Now don't give me that look, Janna,” Star defended herself, seeing the intent behind her friend's piercing green eyes. “It's not my fault you stayed up all night.” She crossed one arm across her chest, while the other still had to be dedicated to holding onto her hair to keep from falling, turning away from the bat with a pout, closing her eyes and refusing to look at her.

But after a few seconds, she slowly peeked open an eye and could see out of the corner of her eye that the look on the bat's face persisted, a small scowl on her fuzzy features. Star groaned in exasperation, before angrily stating, “Okay fine! I know you sleep during the day and everything, but c'mon, tomorrow is my birthday and I don't want to spend it all alone.” She gave the bat a pouting look, her lip quivering cutely knowing Janna couldn't resist the stare she had spent the last fourteen years perfecting.

Janna gave a small huff, rolling her green eyes before flying off of her perch and to the floor with a look of annoyance.

“Yay!” Star cheered, pumping a fist into the air, as she slid down her hair to the ground, excited her friend would be with her on the very big day. Once she was on the ground, she asked her friend, “So what should we do first?” She didn't even bother to wait for a reply as she began listing off potential activities to fill time in a nearly sing-song voice. “Playing guitar, knitting, cooking, puzzles, darts, baking, oh I guess that's probably the same as cooking, huh? Haha, umm, well we could also try some pottery or ventriloquy or candle making, I could try painting if I could find a spot that I haven't already painted on. Hmm? Oh, oh, oh, or we could re-re-reread those books I have, what do you think?”

Once she was done, Janna just gave her a one of her bored looks that said, 'I-don't-really-care'.

“Huh, you're right,” Star said thoughtfully. “We'll do them all!” she declared at the top of her lungs, pointing a finger in the air, dramatically.

Janna just sighed again, thinking it was way too early to be doing anything right now.

…

Meanwhile, in the nearby kingdom of Corona, the whole town was teeming with excitement and lively chatter on that lovely morning. Townsfolk were already going about their daily work with more vigor than usual and the streets were filled with the sound of children's laughter and general merriment. Everyone was in high spirit, the air itself practically electrified with jubilant energy, as all were happily anticipating the festival that would be the following day. Preparations had been underway for weeks, streamers and decorations hung up all over the busy streets, fluttering freely in the breeze and proudly showing off the beautiful logo of the kingdom: a purple flag with a bright, golden sun. This served as a constant reminder to the townsfolk of what was to come and the anticipation many were feeling was close to bursting at this point.

But one such individual was free of any feelings of merriment that plagued the rest of the kingdom, as he looked down on the people below with an impassive look. He was more focused on the work that had to be done to care about some silly festival and besides he would be long gone by that point.

He stood high on the roof of the large castle in the center of town, keeping a close eye on the guards that patrolled the perimeter, none the wiser to the teen's presence and he smiled to himself. Idiots. He took a moment from his precarious position to stretch, mentally and physically preparing himself for what was about to happen, letting out a calming breath. The boy had tanned skin and brown, spiked hairs (which he kept styled at all times) brown eyes and a mole just under his left cheek. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a red vest over on top of it and a brown belt hugging his mid-section firmly. The sleeves were rolled up to above his elbows on his shirt and a satchel hung loosely over his shoulder. He had on light brown pants, which were tucked into black, hunting boots.

A gentle breeze blew up against him, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine which he ignored. It was bound to happen being this high up. All he had to say was thank goodness he didn't have a fear of heights. Behind him, he heard a strangled squeak and he turned to see his two accomplices behind him, one tall and thin and the other short and fat. The thin one was tightly hugging his partner in a death grip, shaking as he looked at the ground below. “Do we have to be this high up?” the teen asked in a nasally voice.

“Can't be helped, Alfonso,” the boy in red shrugged. “This is the easiest way in. The higher up we are the less the guards look.”

“Marco's right, Al,” the third boy, Ferguson, agreed, pushing his friend off of him, causing him to shriek in fear and Marco cringed, glad they were too high up to be heard by the passing guards. “The last thing we need is to get caught stealing from royalty,” the chubby one added.

“Yeah and with that in mind we better hurry, just in case someone does happen to look up and see us,” the thief in red, Marco Diaz, said, before he recklessly jumped off the side of the roof, sliding down its tiled side and landing on the side of one of the towers with a barely audible thud. Ferguson followed quickly after, with an anxious and fear stricken Alfonso following hesitantly after, trying to ignore the long, fatal fall beneath him.

The three boys began making their way slowly and carefully around the side of the tower, leaping from tower to tower, Marco in the lead of his friends, jumping and maneuvering his way around expertly. This wasn't his first time stealing from another person, but his was the biggest and most satisfying job of his criminal career. If he pulled this job off right he would be set for life, even after splitting it three ways with his cohorts.

He did question bringing these two along, their skills as thieves not anything too impressive, but he couldn't pull this job off on his own and they were the only ones he trusted enough to help him, knowing anyone else would stab him in the back and take off with the goods in a heartbeat. He was the one who had gotten them into this life after all, asking them to tag along with him on jobs when he had been just getting his start as a thief. He could tell that they weren't too interested in it in the same way he was, going along with his schemes more out of obligation from being his friends than actual want to engage in criminal acts. Still, they never turned down any of his offers and this job was no different, so he was fine with cutting the share with his two long-time partners.

The three finally reached their desired destination, Alfonso at this point panting and shuddering all over with fear. Marco and Ferguson quickly opened a small hatch in the roof, revealing the throne room, where about a dozen guards stood around a small pedestal. On it lay the object the three thieves had been seeking, the lost princess's crown, lying preserved and safe on a soft, purple pillow. It was made of pure gold, intricately crafted with white diamond's embedded into its top, as well as several rubies that made up the bottom half of the priceless prize.

Marco took a moment to marvel at the beautiful crown, while his two companions began tying a long, thick rope down beside him. He released a slow, breathy sigh, still unable to look away from the golden headpiece. But he was quickly pulled back into the moment as he felt Ferguson and Alfonso now tying the other end of the rope around his waist. He lifted up his arms allowing them to do their job much easier and waited patiently for them to finish. The two took their time making sure that the rope would be secure but also cause no discomfort to their friend, tying it as tight as they dared without hurting him.

Once the rope was properly in place, Ferguson and Alfonso began lowering Marco down into the throne room, making sure to keep a firm and steady hold on the rope as the thief was inched closer and closer to his prize. Marco took slow, even breaths, trying to stay as quiet as possible, not wanting to alert any of the guards to his presence. The large chamber was so unnervingly silent that if a pin were to suddenly drop Marco was sure it would startle every guard in the room. He honestly wondered how someone could tolerate being in the room all day, every day, as their source of earning. It seemed awfully boring. And to the adventurous, thrill-seeking Marco that was like a fate worse than death.

The young thief quickly pushed aside his racing thoughts, focusing instead on the guards themselves, his highly trained eye on alert for any notable or abnormal movements from the bunch that would indicate that they had been discovered. But the guards around him were none the wiser to his presence, their backs to the young thief as their eyes alertly scanned only directly in front of them.

Finally, the boy in red came to a sudden and jerky stop, the pedestal and crown now only a few inches below him and easily within arms reach. He smiled to himself, but made sure to keep a weary eye on the guards as he quickly snatched up the crown, before tucking it safely away in his satchel. So far so good, he thought to himself, giving the rope a tug to let them know to pull him up. We might actually pull this off without a hitch.

But it seemed the boy had spoken (or rather 'thought') too soon, as he heard a small yell of none other than Alfonso, which sounded like a bombshell going off in the once deafening silence of the throne room, every guard jumping at the echoing noise. Before Marco could react, the boy felt the rope go slack and he was suddenly sent catapulting downward, as they boys above him, for whatever reason, lost their hold. Marco felt his stomach drop and he let out a small yell himself, as his body rushed toward the ground. He crashed into the pedestal on the way down, knocking to over, where it hit the floor with a loud bang.

Somehow, Marco was saved from the same happening to him, as Ferguson and Alfonso must have gotten a hold of the rope again, as he was yanked to a stop, his face near centimeters from the ground, the tips of his bangs touching the tiled floor. But all the commotion, of course, attracted a lot of attention, every guard swerving on their heels to see the young criminal suspended precariously from the rope, all of them in shock and disgust at the illegal action that was clearly taking place.

“Hey, stop thief!” one of them shouted angrily, as he and the others gritted their teeth and held out their spears, the sharp tips pointed directly at Marco.

“Pull me up!” Marco shouted above him in a panic, trying to somehow maneuver out of the way of the deadly weapons that now surrounded him on all sides. But the two thieves didn't have to be told twice as they began frantically pulling Marco back up, the dangling thief in just seconds out of the guards (and more importantly their spears) reach and he let a sigh of relief. The guards watched helpless as the intruder was hauled back onto the roof, their anger growing as they shouted up at him, while several ran to go get reinforcements.

Once Marco's was safely back on the roof with his two friends and his feet were once again planted on solid ground, he shot a glare at the two, demanding in a breathless and nerve-wracked tone, “What the heck was that?! Why'd you drop me, now the whole castle knows we're here?!” He began working on untying the thick and intricate knots, tugging relentlessly at the coarse rope in frustration.

“Sorry, Marco, something landed on my shoulder and it scared me,” Alfonso apologized sheepishly. “But it was totally a spider or something that was about to bite me,” he quickly added in his defense.

“It was a pigeon and no it wasn't,” Ferguson corrected, rolling his eyes at his friend.

Marco's eyes narrowed at the nasally teen. “So you just jeopardized one of the most important jobs of our career over a stupid bird,” Marco said irritably, the annoyance in his stony gaze unmistakable.

“Uh, apparently,” Alfonso muttered guiltily.

The boy in red face-palmed, letting out a infuriated growl as he dragged his hand slowly down his face. But he recovered quickly, as he said to the two in a much calmer tone, “Okay, then, time for 'Plan B'. We need to get out of here and fast. Let's go.”

He left no room for arguing as he began making his way down the castletop with no regard for his safety, more focused on getting away quickly than bothering to take things slow. He hopped from tower to tower and ran across perilous scaffolds without even looking to make sure his feet were in a good position to do so. Ferguson and Alfonso, to their credit, kept up with his quick and reckless pace, though the latter looked terrified the whole time, fighting off the panic attack that was slowly building up inside him.

Eventually the three were able to make it off of the castle, jumping from one of the balcony's onto the roof of one of the nearby houses, Alfonso stumbling slightly and looking paler than a ghost from the long drop. Marco wasted no time though, as he slid down the roof, landing on a nearby awning, doing a flip in the air, before tucking himself into a roll as he hit the stony sidewalk. Ferguson and Alfonso, on the other hand, carefully made their way over to the side of the building, dropping down onto the awning, before sliding down the poles using them to hold the thing up.

Marco rose to his feet, waiting until his companions were both down before leading them into a race through town, several guards already racing out of the gates of the castle and chasing after them, spears in hand. Marco dodged his way around the traffic on the streets, civilians screaming and frantically moving out of the way to avoid being knocked over, in total confusion and disarray over what was happening around them.

Soon the gates to the city were in sight, the bridge that would lead them into the forest and their freedom within reach. Marco smiled, before slowing his pace enough to allow Ferguson and Alfonso to run past him, knocking a cart of apples over, ignoring the shout of alarm from the seller, causing fruit to tumble into the road behind them. He hoped this would stall the guards long enough to give them enough time to escape.

He was rewarded with the sound of a scream and a crash behind him and the boy picked up his pace even more. As he and his companions ran out of the gates to town and across the long bridge, they all began laughing in victory, all quite overjoyed with their success.

“We did it, guys!” Marco shouted at the top of his lungs. He let out a loud chuckle, before adding, “Today is a very good day!”

…

“Today is a very good day, Janna!” Star stated to her bat friend, one musical montage and several dozen time-wasting activities later, still just as giddy and hyper as earlier. Nothing seemed to be able to deter Star's enthusiasm that day, not even the dreaded clutches of boredom, but unfortunately Star's peppiness was not shared as Janna just lay on the girl's shoulder looking utterly dissatisfied with life. But the young blond didn't notice this either, as she looked up at her newly constructed masterpiece with increased satisfaction. “I mean just look at that beautiful painting, I'm a true artist,” Star bragged proudly, puffing out her chest and striking a dramatic pose. “When mom sees this she'll be sure to let me go see the floating lights.”

Janna's gaze slowly shifted to the picture, not sure if she quite agreed. It was a terrible looking stick version of Star with goofily large eyes looking up at small white dots that Janna assumed were supposed to be the floating lights. And, because it was Star, she had also needlessly added in a lopsided skull and a smudged picture of a spider wearing a top hat floating in the air around her. All in all the pitiful excuse for art looked like it had been drawn by a four year old kid, not a soon to be fifteen year old teenager.

It was almost unbelievable that even after all these years living alone inside a tower with nothing but time to practice Star still hadn't gained even a speck of talent in painting whatsoever and the bat would have bet a fortune that the only thing Star's mother was sure to be when she saw it, was confused. Janna barely understood what she was looking at, there was no way her human friend's mother would know what it was supposed to be, as well.

“Well, what do you think?” Star asked, looking to her only friend in anticipation. This was when she finally took notice of her bat friend's clear difference of opinion, adding shamefacedly, “Uhh, sorry I didn't put you in the picture, too. But I kinda ran out of room.” The nocturnal mammal would have been offended she hadn't been added onto the picture (terrible as it was), if she actually cared. All she wanted was just to go back to sleep, unable to stop thinking of all the precious daylight that was being wasted. So Janna didn't say a word about how awful it looked and what a crime against true artists and art it was, instead she just shrugged and gave her a look that said, We-done-now?

Star sighed dramatically. “Fine, you can go back to napping,” Star said rolling her eyes, unable to believe Janna's lack of enthusiasm in all of this. How could she even consider napping on such a monumental occasion? Didn't she realize how amazing and life-changing this was?

But apparently she didn't, as the purple bat just flew up to the ceiling, hanging upside down from one of the pillars that was still in shadow, tucking her wings around her as she drifted off to sleep. Star tried to contain her disappointment as she muttered more to herself than Janna, “Mom will be back soon anyway. Don't want her to know I've been hiding a pet from her all these years.”

As if on cue, Star heard a call from outside the window, a familiar voice that the blond instantly knew had to be her mother's. “Star! Are you there, dear? Let down your hair, please?”

“Coming mom!” Star yelled, as she raced over to the window, opening the shutters, before looking down at her mother, waiting patiently below. Lady Eclipsa as she was known to be, had poofy teal hair and a flowing purple dress with small black dress shoes.

“Star, you know I don't like being kept waiting,” her mother called up in a warning tone. Star tried not to let this get to her as she hung her hair on a small hook that hung down from the top of the windowsill, before gathering up the rest and quickly flinging it over the side. Her long, blond locks fell gracefully down the entire length of the tower, nearly touching the ground when she was done. Eclipsa moved out of the way to avoid getting hit by the make-shift rope made of her daughter's own incredibly long hair.

Once in reach, Star's mother quickly grabbed the end of the blond locks that were now nearly glowing in the sunlight, and raising it up to be used it as a little foothold for herself. She stepped onto this, before waiting for her daughter to begin pulling her up. And Star wasted no time in doing this, heaving back on her hair and the heavy form that now weighed it down immensely. But Star had had plenty of practice at this and was able to slowly but surely began pulling Eclipsa up the side of the tower, with little to no problem whatsoever, her experience in pulling things up by her hair alone a much more accomplished skill than her artistic ability.

She grunted as she pulled the last bit of distance needed for her mother to step onto the window frame and then safely inside the tower. Star panted heavily as moved to hug her mother, saying in a tired but cheerful voice, “Welcome back, mom.”

Eclipsa though just handed her the basket she had brought back, before stepping past her, not even noticing her daughter's show of affection. “Excellent work, Star. Though I think you could have done that a bit faster, hmm?” her mother commented, as she began gazing at herself in the mirror, messing with her hair to make sure it was still the way she wanted it.

Star looked hurtfully down at the basket for a moment before setting it down on the nearest table, racing over to her mother, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet to try and contain her excitement. She quickly asked in a hinting tone, “So mom, do you know what tomorrow is?”

“I believe it's Saturday,” her mother replied flatly, still examining herself closely in the mirror. Star shook her head saying, “No, no that's not what I meant.”

But her mother once again wasn't really listening, her eyes widening as she spotted a gray hair hidden in with the mess of blue locks around it. “Star, dear, we can talk in a moment, first I would love it if you would sing for your mother,” Eclipsa said, turning to her daughter with a small smile.

“Oh right, of course,” Star said, quickly jumping at the task, rushing over to get everything ready, running and grabbing the chair and stepstool needed, setting them in front of each other. Eclipsa just watched all of this with a blank stare, following her daughter's movements as she sat herself down in the chair Star had brought her. The blond grabbed the hairbrush before running back over to her mom, handing her the brush and laying a thick portion of her hair on her lap, as she plopped down onto her own small seat.

She cleared her throat before singing as quickly as she could the song her mother had taught her. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the fates design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine.”

As Star did this, her hair lit up golden, trailing all the way down the entire length of her mane. Eclipsa hummed along with the fast pace of the song, seemingly unaffected by how quickly her daughter was going, as she just ran the brush a few times through the glowing locks. The woman felt a deep powerful magic coursing through her veins, a wonderful feeling overcoming her as all at once all her ailments and aches were reversed and healed.

Once Star was done, she quickly jumped up from the chair, grabbing her mother's arm in a tight hug, as she quickly began talking a mile a minute, “So now that that's done, I was going to tell you that tomorrow is kind of a big day and since I know you won't be able to guess, I'm just gonna go ahead and tell you that's its my birthday!!”

She smiled widely at her mom as she finished, but her mother didn't seem to react much at all, as she merely said, “Really, so soon?”

“Well, it has been a whole year,” Star mumbled under her breath, to her it had felt like she had been waiting forever for this day to come.

“Star, you know what we talked about with the mumbling,” her mother scolded, giving her a look, and Star remembered immediately all the previous lectures she had been given about how it was undignified for a young lady to whisper things under her breath and not speak loudly and clearly enough to be heard.

“Sorry, mom,” Star hastily apologized, making sure her voice was now loud enough her mother could easily hear it.

“It's alright dear,” her mother said, giving her a small hug, before walking toward the kitchen and pawing through the bowl of fruit, looking for something to eat. “So is there anything you wanted for your birthday?” she casually mentioned.

Star sucked in a breath. This would be the hard part, convincing her mom, but she decided to just go for it. “Well, I was thinking,” Star said as casually and innocently as possible. “Since I'm turning fifteen tomorrow I thought that it would be a good idea... to maybe go outside.”

Star had a wide, awkward smile on her face as she waited for her mother's reaction. Eclipsa stilled, dropping the apple she had chosen back into the bowl, as she turned to her daughter in surprise. “What?” she asked, shocked.

“Not for forever, of course,” Star quickly added, seeing her mother's concern. She chuckled nervously saying, “I mean that would be... crazy. But just long enough for you to take me to go see the floating lights.”

Now Eclipsa looked even more startled, asking hesitantly, “Floating... lights?”

Star could tell her mom was starting to think she had gone insane so she quickly clarified, “Yeah, y'know the big glowing lights that fill the sky, every year, on my birthday.”

“You mean... the stars?” Eclipsa said slowly and Star let out a sharp, frustrated sigh.

“No, not the stars, mom. These are different. Here, let me show you,” Star quickly used a length of her hair to pull open a lever on the wall, opening a hatch which sent a flood of light cascading on her drawing, highlighting against the rest of the musty tower. “See,” Star said, pointing at the painting. “These things. The big bright things that always appear out of nowhere on my birthday.”

Eclipsa looked at the painting in silence for a few moments, her face completely unreadable. “I... see,” was all she managed to reply, trying to keep her face calm. She turned to her daughter asking, “And your sure you didn't just dream them? “No, I didn't,” Star said defensively. “Have you seriously never noticed them before?” When she received no reply she quickly waved this off. “Whatever, it doesn't matter. I see them every year, mom, and I just... really want to know what they are. I want to see them, up close, in person.”

“Why do you care so much about these stars, darling?” Eclipsa asked, sounding amused at her daughter's bizarre interest in something seemingly ordinary.

Star's cheeks puffed up some in anger. “First of all, they're not stars. And second of all, I don't know. I just feel like they're meant for me somehow, y'know.” Star shrugged not sure how quite to put it into words.

Eclipsa grew very quiet after that, watching her daughter closely as her eyes glazed over in thought. This was very bad. Very, very bad and she knew it. She had to do something. She couldn't let her flower discover the truth. She had to find some way to get her to stay. But how.

“Now, now, darling you know the rules about going outside,” she began, stepping closer to her daughter.

Star began to fiddle with a strand of her hair, nervously. “Yes, I know but, I thought maybe we could break the rules, just this once.” She gave her mom a sheepish smile, hoping that this would somehow convince her to let her go, though her optimism was beginning to fade.

And to Star's dismay, Eclipsa shook her head, before saying, “The rules exist for a reason, Star. To keep you safe. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there?”

“Well no,” Star admitted, but quickly tried to argue, saying, “But I-”

“Exactly, dear, you don't know,” Eclipsa continued, as she walked over to her, placing her hands softly on her shoulders. “But I do. The world outside if full of dangers you couldn't even begin to imagine and you are just not ready to face them yet. You're too naive and the people out there would take advantage of that.”

Star looked sadly at her bare feet. “Not to mention what they would do if they discovered the power your hair holds,” Eclipsa continued softly, running a hand through Star's hair once.

The blond felt her heart thumping a bit out of control, fear filling her being. Her mother had told her stories of what had happened when she was just a baby. How everyone had wanted to cut her hair and have the power all for themselves, even trying to take her away from her mom and she shuddered at the thought.

Eclipsa pulled Star close in a comforting embrace, as she said worriedly, “I couldn't bare to see you get hurt. It would hurt me if that happened, you know that right?”

“Yes,” Star said sadly, feeling all the fight and hope drain from her, leaving her feeling empty.

“Then you are going to listen to your mother and stay put?” Eclipsa asked, waiting to hear the answer.

Star hesitated, but finally sighing saying again, “Yes.”

“That's my girl,” Eclipsa said, pulling out of the hug to cup her daughter's face in her hands. She gave her gentle kiss on the forehead. But as she pulled away, she saw the pitiful look on her daughter's face and added, “Trust me, Star. I always knows what's best for you.”

Star just gave her a half-hearted smile, as her mom gave her cheek a soft pat. “Well I must be going again,” Eclipsa said, as she quickly retrieved her basket and then climbed back up onto the window, before taking hold of the still hanging hair. She turned back to her daughter one last time before saying, “I will see you in a bit, my dear. I love you.”

With that, Eclipsa quickly began descending her daughter's hair. Star stood perfectly still, waiting until she couldn't feel the tug against her scalp anymore, letting her know her mother was now on the ground and probably heading out of the clearing and into the big, bright world Star was forbidden to see. Once she was sure her mother was out of ear shot, she loudly huffed, flopping herself down on the ground and crossing her arms in front of her, childishly.

She just fumed angrily to herself for a few moments, muttering comments about being trapped there forever, bored out of her mind, and calling her mom a poophead. Finally, Janna flew down and landed on her shoulder, giving her a look with her wide, brown eyes.

Star sighed, rubbing at her eyes as she agreed, “Yeah, that definitely could have gone better.”

…

“Hurry their gaining!” Marco shouted over to his two comrades, looking back to make sure they were still with him. To his relief, they were, Ferguson and Alfonso just barely managing to keep up, both panting immensely. But none of them had time to stop as, not a short distance away, the roar of approaching horses could be heard, growing louder by the second.

Marco did his best to evade their pursuers, going between trees that would be too narrow for horses to follow, jumping over fallen trunks, and sliding down steep inclines, but nothing seemed to work. Nothing seemed to be slowing any of them down any and Marco was quickly running out of ideas. If something didn't change soon, they would definitely be captured.

Suddenly, the three thieves all came to an abrupt stop as they reached a dead end. Marco looked up at the rocky cliff in front of them, quickly judging the distance, before turning back to Ferguson and Alfonso. “Okay quick, boost me up!”

The two shared a look with one another, looking unsure. “What?” Marco asked, seeing their hesitation.

“You sure you'll remember to pull us up when you're done?” Ferguson asked, in a half-accusing manner.

Marco looked hurt at the comment. “What? Of course I will. You two are my best friends.” The two still looked hesitant and Marco sighed, adding, “Look we don't have time to argue about this, the whole royal army is right on our tail.”

As if on cue, they heard a shout followed by the thundering roar of horses racing at full-speed toward them as it grew steadily louder. This finally seemed to convince the two thieves as they quickly formed a human ladder for Marco to climb up, the young man taking care not to step on their hands or faces as he scaled the cliff off of his friends.

Once Marco reached the top and had hauled himself over the ledge, he quickly checked his satchel, before giving a quick glance below, making sure no guards were there yet.

But he heard more guards riding up from around the clifftops and knew they had no time to waste. “Come on, guys! Let's get going!” he shouted before running away at full speed, forgetting the predicament he had left his two friends in.

The two just stared up at the cliff blankly for a moment. “D-Did he just leave us behind... again?” Ferguson asked.

“Yep,” Alfonso replied.

They both sighed dejectedly, as they waited to be arrested... again.

…

Marco continued at full sprint though the forest looking back occasionally to check and see if his pursuers were gone or not. Unfortunately for him, they weren't.

There were about four horeses following him, all carrying armed guards dressed in Mewni's traditional golden armor, the lead guard being none other than the captain herself, Kelly, her recognizable blue hair tied up in a bun, most of it covered by her helmet. “Great not her, that's just what I needed,” Marco muttered to himself, focusing on the impossible task of outrunning the riders on foot. “Does the universe just hate me or something?” he pondered to himself, as his eyes scanned the area around him, trying to think of a plan.

Finally, an idea came to him, as he grabbed onto a nearby vine, using the momentum to swing himself around the tree before kicking the unsuspecting Kelly off of her horse and instead taking her place. He situated himself better into the fancy saddle, checking back once to make sure the girl was okay. He breathed a mental sigh of relief as he saw she had landed in some bushes, her usually well-kept hair now coated in leaves and sticks, rubbing at her head and glaring daggers of death at him but not looking too injured. Once he knew she was fine, he allowed himself a small laugh of victory as he rode triumphantly away from his honest-working rival.

Kelly gritted her teeth as she watched helplessly as the thief rode away on her own horse and she stood up with a huff. After a few moments the other guards caught up to her, stopping to see if she was hurt, one of them worriedly asking, “Are you okay, Kelly?”

“That's Captain Kelly! And yes I'm fine, Tad,” she angrily snapped at her ex-boyfriend. “Just follow after that guy before he gets away!” The others all obeyed, returning to their chase as they hunted after their target, one of them stopping long enough to lift the girl captain up into the saddle behind him before galloping after the criminal, as well.

While that was going on, Marco was putting more and more distance between himself and his pursuers, confident he would easily allude them at this speed. He still took a few seconds to double-check and make sure he really was in the clear, though, listening to the now near-silent trotting of horse hooves, and smiled with satisfaction. Perfect. They were nowhere near him and at this rate he would be long gone before they had time to track him down. He was pretty much in the clear now.

The young thief allowed himself to relax a bit in his seat, loosening his tight grip on the reins. He absentmindedly patted the horse, saying, “Good job, girl. I think we lost them.”

The horse he was riding, who was names Pony Head (Kelly wasn't very clever with the names, her mind on more important things like hunting down criminals), hadn't been paying attention to the whole thing, finding all these stupid chases boring. She would much rather be hanging back at the castle with the other horses, maybe even flirting with a few of the better looking stallions there, not going on some annoying chase through the dumb woods looking for some turd.

But the second the boy spoke, the horse snapped to attention, the unfamiliar voice from her current rider setting off red flags in Pony's mind. What the heck?! Pony thought, as she turned her head to see some dumb boy sitting comfortably on her back, looking behind him rather than even paying attention to what was in front of him. Oh no! Pony thought in anger. No boy is gonna sit on by back!

She dug her hooves into the ground, bringing them to an abrupt halt and Marco, who had been distracted checking behind them to make sure they were free and clear, was nearly sent flying. The thief screamed, squeezing the reign's clenched in his hands with a death grip, somehow managing to stay on Pony Head, much to her anger and dismay.

“Hey what's the big idea?!” Marco screamed down to the horse, his heart still in his throat, causing him to pant harshly. When he got no reply from the animal, he repositioned himself back in the saddle, taking slow, steady breaths to try and calm his frazzled nerves. He did a quick look around for anything that might have spooked the mare. “Did you see a snake or something?”

Only the one on my back, Pony quipped back in her head.

The boy sighed, letting the scare go for now. “Never mind, let's get going,” he said, snapping her reigns to try and get her moving again. But to his surprise the horse didn't move an inch. “Uh, hello?” Marco said with slight annoyance, flicking the reigns again, a little harder this time. “Move.”

Still nothing. The boy was starting to lose his patience, the longer they lingered there the greater the chance the guards would catch up to them, Captain Kelly surely not giving up the chase so easily. This was exactly what Pony Head was thinking, as well, mentally smirking to herself at the idea of getting the annoying boy caught. Yeah keep yellin', turd. I ain't movin' a muscle.

“Come on fleebag, forward!” he yelled, kicking the stubborn horse in the side.

Oh he did not just call me that!! Pony mentally screamed, letting out a loud huff through her nostrils. The red thief heard this and opened his mouth to comment, but it quickly turned to a scream as the horse's hind legs bucked up over and over again, trying to knock the annoying pest off her back. It was a quite to see, as the horse aggressively kicked and stomped her way around the clearing, the poor young man holding onto her back for dear life as he was flung around like a rag doll, shouting out his complaints at the top of his lungs, “Whoa! Wait, stop!!” The thief felt his stomach churn in protest and he quickly exclaimed in a panic, “I think I'm gonna be sick!”

Oh you better not puke on me, you little turd, Pony angrily thought, before giving the hardest buck yet, this time finally managing to throw the boy off of her, Marco releasing a high pitched scream as he was sent flying through the air and right toward a cliff. Luckily for him, he was able to grab onto a tree branch, now suspended over the steep incline, hanging on for dear life as his feet dangled helplessly. Marco swallowed down the panicked lump in his throat and tried to ignore the fact that he was currently hanging over a hundred foot cliff, focusing instead of pulling himself up onto the branch. He just prayed it would support his weight. He managed to wrap his legs around the thick back, meaning he didn't have to worry about his arms giving out just yet, but he still understandably held onto the limb with a death grip.

Just as he was about to begin trying to get back on solid ground, he heard the familiar clip-clop of horse hooves, followed by shifting from the branch, alerting him that he was not alone on the limb. The young thief craned his neck to see the same stupid horse that had gotten him into this situation now try to walk onto the unstable branch. He gasped in horror, terrified that the clearly brain-dead mare was about to get them both killed, Marco not sure if the limb could support their combined weight.

He wondered what on earth could be causing the four-legged creature to act so recklessly. That was until he noticed the satchel handing on the far end of the tree, hanging precariously on one of the small limbs that had luckily stopped its descent. And do despite his fear, he began inching his way across the trunk, trying to move as fast as possible, ignoring his safety instincts screaming at him to stop. Pony, though, quickly caught on to what Marco was trying to do and began trying to step on Marco's hands with her hooves, also seeming to completely disregard the dangerous drop directly below them.

Marco, now with a new motivation to beat the stupid horse and keeps his hands from being crushed, took the risk and jumped toward the branch. He just barely managed to grab the satchel, as well as grip the branch it had been loosely hanging off of, the bag nearly slipping off from all the jerky movements and sent plummeting off the cliff. Marco let out a victorious yell, as he turned to the stupid horse with a smug grin, showing off his claimed prize. “Ha, take that you stupid-”

But Marco didn't get a chance to finish his insult, as suddenly there was a loud snapping sound, Marco and Pony Head both looking over to see the large crack in the trunk, which had been made weak by the two's overwhelming weight and constant abuse on the fragile limb. The didn't have any time to react as it gave altogether breaking free of its hold in the cliff side with another loud snap, now sent falling to the unforgiving earth below.

Marco screamed at the top of his lungs, giving out a very undignified yell, while beside him Pony neighed loudly in terror. He felt his body go weightless, his stomach twisting uncomfortably, as he continued to cling to the plummeting branch. A wave of nausea rose up, both from his unbridled terror and his well-known case of motion sickness, which was choosing to come back at the worst possible time. But suddenly his lifeline was gone, snapping in half when it bumped against the cliff side, sending Marco and Pony spiraling away from one another on their fast track to becoming acquainted with the ground.

Next, Marco reached the treetops, thick vines wrapping around his body and slowing his descent immensely. Finally, the vines went taunt stopping the young thief mere inches from hitting the hard ground. His body went limp, allowing the ropes to hold him there, swaying unevenly above the ground. Marco just stayed like that for a few moments, panting as the stress of the ordeal slowly wore off and his heart rate slowed to a more normal pulse.

Until finally he said in a remarkably calm voice, “Well that was scarring for life.”

The young thief managed to untangle himself from the thick, knotted vines and get himself settle back down on the soft ground, nearly tempted to get down on hands and knees and kiss it. He would have to, if it weren't for the fact that the ground would have been what would have ultimately caused his death and he really didn't want to go around praising his almost killer. So instead, he just put his satchel back over his shoulder and began walking deeper into the woods.

He wasn't sure where he was headed but literally anywhere was better than here at the moment, just in case that dumb horse had survived too and was now looking for him. Right on que, Marco heard an angry neigh in the distance, not that far away. Marco panicked, looking around for somewhere for somewhere to hide, slowly backing up toward a large hill covered in ivy. But as his back brushed against the vegetation, he found no resistance there, stumbling back and into the hidden entrance and cave within.

The red thief had no time to ponder this as he quickly hid behind a nearby rock, just as the distinct shadow of a horse appeared on the vegetated wall. Pony stopped, as if sensing his presence, looking around her, her ears twitching as they tried to pick up any sound from the boy. Marco pushed himself a little further behind the rock, making sure to make no noise whatsoever, holding his breath and trying to keep himself as still as possible.

For a few tense seconds, Marco watched the silhouette of the mare, unmoving and stock still. Then, at last, the annoying pony seemed to give up on the chase, trotting away from the area and allowing Marco to finally release his held breath. But he kept an eye on the entrance as he backed slowly into the cave, taking slow, cautious steps just in case she was still within hearing distance. Once he could no longer see the entrance, he allowed himself to drop his guard and turn.

The boy's mouth dropped open at the unexpected sight before him. Instead of a dingy, dirty cave like he had been suspecting he had found himself in some sort of secluded clearing, though it was hardly empty. For in the middle of the green and vibrant clearing was an abandoned tower, standing tall and majestic as the sunlight gleamed off of it. Its color was faded from years of neglect and thick, green vines clung around its base and crawled up its sides. But despite this, it still looked remarkable, seeming like it had just been ripped from the side of a castle before being dropped into the hidden clearing. That or it had been taken right out of a fairytale book, but that one was just silly, this was real life, not some fairytale... right? Behind it was a rushing waterfall, which also gleamed brightly in the sunshine, running into a gentle stream.

“Huh, a tower? How'd it end up here?” Marco wondered aloud. But he quickly dismissed his wonderment with a shrug. “Oh well, better not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

The young thief cringed at the phrase, before releasing a violent shudder as he was reminded of his brief encounter with that stupid horse. “Okay note to self, never use that phrase again,” he told himself.

“Still this is a good place to lay low for awhile,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the tower carefully, searching for any form of entrance along its crumbling exterior. “Now if I could just find a way inside...”

Marco's gaze froze on a small window near the top and luckily for him, it was open.

“Bingo!” the boy said with a satisfied smile. He made his way over to the tower, looking up its side, trying to plan out a way up. He pulled out two arrows using those to climb slowly up. He got into a stead rhythm, sticking an arrow in the wall with a loud thunk, before pulling out the next one and sticking it into the wall a bit higher than the last, careful to make sure his feet had a proper resting place as he did. Clop. Thunk. Clop. Thunk. The sound repeated itself over and over again, until at last Marco reached the window, grabbing onto its frame and lifting himself inside. He tucked the arrows into his satchel along with the crown, as he looked around the dark room.

It was impossible to tell what anything looked like inside until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, but he didn't really care of the condition of his temporary hiding place at the moment. He was more interested in checking on his valued prize. He looked into the open satchel with a content grin, staring pleasingly at the golden crown shimmering inside.

So distracted, in fact, that he didn't see a small form making its way over to him in the darkness. He let out a satisfied sigh, saying softly to himself, “Looks like I'm finally out of danger.”

A loud bong sounded, echoing around the dark enclosure, as the young thief fell over unconscious, his body going limp as a heavy frying pan smacked him hard in the back of the head. Star, for a moment, just stood over the sleeping man on the floor in front of her, her eyes wide in shock of what she had just done. She continued to hold the frying pan up, ready to strike once again, just in case he did manage to remain conscious after the hit.

“Um, hello?” Star hesitantly called down to him. “A-Are you awake?”

She poked him a couple of times with the pan, but when he didn't react she relaxed some, letting her guard drop a little. Though she was anything but calm, as she began pacing around the room, saying to herself. “Okay so I just knocked out some guy and now he's unconscious in my living room. What do I do? What should I tell mom? No, I cannot tell mom about this. Then again,” Star stopped pacing, putting a finger to her chin as she looked thoughtfully over at the boy. “If she saw that I was capable of taking out this intruder then maybe she would see that I'm strong enough to be able to go outside! I'm a genius!”

Star patted herself on the back for the idea, a wide, hopeful grin on her face, as she approached the boy again. She looked down at him smugly, saying with a laugh, “Ha, thought you could just sneak in and try and steal my hair, didn't you? Well you are no match for my incredible talents, mister.”

Once, she finished bragging, she just grinned proudly down at the unconscious boy. But her smile vanished as she finally got a good look at the intruder. He was actually quite handsome, his soft brown locks laying across his face, which looked so peaceful and warm as he slept. She could see the slightest hint of toned muscles though his shirt, which caused a lump to form in her throat for some reason. And to top it all off, he had the absolute cutest mole on his left cheek.

For a moment, all Star could do was just stare, love-struck at the handsome boy laying on the floor in front of her, a blush beginning to light up her cheeks. That was until she felt a small tug on her hair and she jumped turning to see Janna flapping her wings behind her, a frown clearly discernible on her fuzzy features. “W-What?” Star said, quickly hiding her blushing cheeks from the bat. “I've just never seen another human before is all,” she said defensively.

Star didn't have to be looking at her bat friend to know that she was raising a skeptical eyebrow right now. “L-Let's just find a place to put this guy, before mom gets back,” Star said, trying way too hard to change the subject.

She scanned the room in search of a good hiding spot, finally landing on the large closest. “Ah ha! Perfect!” She looked to Janna for agreement, but the bat was still just giving her a skeptical look, not convinced the boy could fit in there. Star frowned, before demanding, “Just help me get him in there.”

#Star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Star is a Disney Princess #Starco #Star is Rapunzel

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anxietymymiddlename · 5 years ago

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His and hers circumstances

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC4

Summary: Jeahee is going out with Zen? The surprising news leave her with a broken heart, still she can not find the courage to confess her feelings to her afraid that she will not accept her. Trying to confront her confusing emotions, Jumin enters her every day life like a storm while dealing with his own issues. A little bit more than friends, but with their emotions not sorted out yet, what will happen when they will end up under the same roof?

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Also on Fanfiction.net]

[Chapter 3: Wine tastes a bit like love]

Spoiler Alert: Secret ending spoiler.

"I smiled at you, lied to you, pretended everything was fine. I thought I'd give up, but I couldn't. And though I held back as I always, the truth was I wanted to scream I love you as hard as I could. The wine tasted sour that night; I thought it tasted a bit like my love for you."

Everyone was excited about New Years. The city was buzzing more than usual. He could not share the excitement. All the decorations, the fancy ads; it was easy to exploit an event like this. As a businessman he could at least justify the whole hype as a way to generate profit, no matter how cynical that sounded. Taking some time off was undoubtedly the best part of this; though he could live without the traffic on the streets. It took him more than usual to reach his apartment.

His phone rung again. He didn't even bother checking the identity of the caller. Was it the tenth or the eleventh time by then? He had lost count. He should have taken the hint already but of course he would not give up that easy. Pointless. He had already decided that he would not answer or return his calls. Had it not been his father new girlfriend and her company, he'd very much like to spend his night with his father, he was also a bit excited at first, but he had no intention to put up with when he found out they would not be alone. And he had even asked him to buy a present for her, it was infuriating. He felt like a fool for believing even for a moment that he'd be willing to spend the New Year's Eve just with him.

"Have a happy new year, sir." "Thank you, Mr. Kim, you too," he said coldly and exiting the car.

At days like this, he missed his best friend the most. Just the thought that he'd like to have him by his side that moment made his steps feel heavier. He stopped in front of the entrance of the building, his breath was taking shape in the cold air. He looked up at the sky for a moment. Writers and poets were paid liars, he thought. Writing texts and texts about how even when someone was not still in this world, he'd stay with you forever. Parts of V were still with him, the memories they shared, the photographs he had gifted him... But he could faintly remember his voice anymore, his face was often blurry in his mind, he had to revisit old videos and photographs often to remember it clearly and that scared him. What if one day he'd forget him completely? Instead of feeling him by his side, he'd very much like to have him there, alive and well.

His friend loved the starry sky, but he was not there to see it. If he were, he'd like to ask him so many things. V would surely give him the answers. His advice was always helpful. Had he forgiven him? He asked himself that many times, but could not answer. Lately he started to think that he could not hate him from the beginning, so there was nothing to forgive. But he'd never be able to tell him that. There were times he thought that it'd be nice if V was there and he was not; he even wondered if someone would miss him as much as he missed him if that was the case.

It was not like him to be so sentimental. Maybe the night was getting to him. His hand searched or his key card in his pocket. It was a chilly night. He entered inside the building and took the elevator avoiding eye contact with the security guard, no need for a typical greetings.

Finally home. Elizabeth came running at the sound of the door and greeted him with a meow, rubbing herself on his trousers as a welcome. He smiled and leaned down. At least he had her. His long fingers run through her fluffy, white fur and he smiled sadly at her. Her being there was enough. It should be enough for him. It was New Years Eve so he should give her a treat to thank her for being by his side. He opened the cupboard and picked a gourmet can of cat food. She meowed and run to her bowl, anticipating the unexpected gift.

"I'm coming," he said pouring a glass of wine for himself in the meantime.

Placing her bowl by his armchair, he sat on it and took a sip. The night view from his apartment was always soothing; he was not very fond of his place, but he always loved the view. But it felt quieter than usual, no matter how much effort he'd put to its decoration it always felt kind of empty. Unknowingly, he had become more aware of his growing loneliness, and the unfamiliar feeling that accompanied that fact was stressing him out. He had to deal with it a lot the past few days, it was tiring and it agitated him a lot. He took another sip of his wine, he knew he should have eaten something first but his appetite was not great lately. Contacting his nutritionist would be a good idea. A change in his diet could help. It'd be nice if he had dinner with his father, it'd been a while since the had dinner with someone. He did enjoy eating Kang's cake, even though he was avoiding eating sweets.

"I hope you like it," he said looking at Elizabeth and she meowed at his voice; her appetite was just fine though.

It seemed like his father had given up. His phone had been quiet for a while. He took it out of his pocket and checked his missed call. He had also sent a text asking where he was and why he was not asnwering. He rubbed his forehead feeling more and more exhausted and decided to text him back just to inform his that he was ok. He'd stand by his statement but there was no need to worry him about his wellbeing. After texting him, he eyes stopped on the RFA app. She had not logged in since that way. Was it worng of him to contact her that night?

-Jumin Han has entered the chatroom-

Yoosung: Just a few hours left… And thus another year comes with me being single.

Seayoung: No surprises here. Yoosung: Too late to find one now… T^T

Saeyoung: IT'S Saeyoung: THE Saeyoung: CEO! Yoosung: Jumin, hello! Jumin Han: Hello. Yoosung: I did no expect you to see you here! Saeyoung: Shouldn't you be enjoying a luxurious meal somewhere right now? Why are you on your phone? Jumin Han: I was planning to, but my father preferred his girlfriend over me. Saeyoung: I think the sad part is that your father has a girlfriend but you are not. Jumin Han: How is this the sad part? Yoosung: Are we just a bunch of forever alones? Saeyoung: LOL! Talk about yourself. Saeyoung: I'm going out tonight! Meal with my employee! Yoosung: A WOMAN? 0^0 Saeyoung: NOT TELLING Yoosung: So mean! Yoosung: Maybe you'll be the next one to find love after Zen Saeyoung: Yes, it seems it's too late for Jumin now Jumin Han: More importantly, Min – Seo has not logged in for a while now. Saeyoung: More importantly, he says! Saeyoung: DO Saeyoung: YOU Saeyoung: MISS HER? Jumin Han: It's concerning, since she used to log in at least once a day. Saeyoung: Keeping tabs I see Yoosung: Eh? Jumin, are you interested in her? 0_0 Jumin Han: Never mind, forget I asked. Saeyoung: Love is in the air! Yoosung: I'm spending the day with my parents by the way. My mother cooked for us. Jumin Han: A family meal. Sounds nice. Saeyoung: Are you changing the subject? Saeyoung: Don't you want to know how is she? Jumin Han: I just thought I should ask. Yoosung: Why don't you call her? Though I think Jaehee mentioned he was working an evening shift today. Jumin Han: I see… Well, I have to go now. Good night. Yoosung: Goodnight! Saeyoung: Hey, wait

- Jumin Han has left the chatroom -

Entering the chat room proved to be a bad idea after all, the conversation just added more to his stress. The ex-agent was really pushing it. He had teased him like that repeatedly the past few days for some reason and it had become tiring. He'd never give him the pleasure to confirm his claims but he could not deny it either, it felt wrong to do so and that added to his confusion. He was aware that he was interested in her but at this point he was not even sure if she would ever be interested in him.

Now laying on his bed, he wished the day would end already. No point in worrying, it'd be better if he could keep his emotions in check. Elizabeth hopped on the bed and curled beside him purring, satisfied by her meal. He let the phone fall from his hand on the mattress and shifted his body trying to get more comfortable. Petting Elizabeth with one hand, he unbuttoned a few of his button with the other. He did not have he energy to change; how unsightly of him. His eyelids felt heavy, it made him wonder if the wine and his exhaustion were getting to him.

He had fallen asleep before he realized it; he woke up after a short nap by he sound of his mobile phone ringing. Letting out a groan, he rubbed his eyes and looked at its screen, initially thinking that it would be his father again. But the name he saw on it made him sat up right away. Min-Seo… His heart raced. As the phone kept ringing, he needed a moment to regain his calm before picking it. It was so rare for her to call him, what could she possible need at such an hour? Did she just want to wish him happy new year or was it an emergency? What time was it anyway?

"Yes, hello..." he answered, his words were a bit stiff. "Jaeheeee… What took you so long to answer?" she whined. "Is it because you are with him right now?" "Well… I am no Ja-"

His heart sank. So she had just pressed the wrong name before calling. Was it disappointment what was feeling at that moment?

"I know you are with him… Why though? Jaehee…. Don't go, ok? I don't like it..." "Min-Seo, where are you right now?" hearing taking like this was asking for immediate action. "Jaehee is my angel after all," he ignored his question. "I don't want to give up on you… I can't. I like you." "Min-Seo… Can you please tell me where are you right now?" he tip toed around his room, picking up his jacket and wallet and putting on his shoes as quickly as he could. "That's not important..." "It is..." "The thing is..." she paused. "I like you… I like you so much..." her voice was lower now. "I like you so much, so why can you be mine? Be mine, please… How can I make you mine?" she asked sobbing.

He stopped. Listening to her voice so close to his ear, her heart beat fast even though he knew these words were not meant for him. She leaned on the wall feeling weak and tried to catch his breath again, what was his body getting excited for, his heartbeat was not normal. She was clearly drunk, every word she said was painful, but for a moment it felt like she was talking to him.

"Min-Seo, is anyone else there with you?" "What? Are you jealous?" suddenly, she sounded happy. "I am… I am extremely jealous right now. So is anyone you can put on the phone right there? I want to make it clear that you are mine." "Ahahaha… You don't have to be," she laughed. "But I was jealous too you know..."

She sounded bashful. He'd had to work around her mood shifts somehow. But still, it was ridiculous that she had not realized that she was talking to the wrong person. Then again it was working on his favor so he could not complain. If Seayoung was in his place, he'd definitely try to change his voice and pretend he was Jaehee, but he could never pull that off. Not to mention that the thought alone was already quite embarrassing.

"I know," he said. "I hated it." "I know… It must hurt." "It does hurt… It hurts a lot..."

Was she crying again? Her emotions were in disarray.

"It hurts a lot," she continued. "… But I want you to be happy. Be happy even if it's not with me..."

She sniffed. How should he react to that? It felt like he was invading into something personal, but he could not just hung up the phone.

""Can you give me someone else on the phone, please?" he had to know where she was. "Why are you insisting so much? I only like you, no need to get jealous. I am alone- Hey, give me that!" "Hello..." an unfamiliar voice. "Do you know the owner of this phone?" a girl asked. "Can you tell me her address? I'll take her back home, she is in no condition to go alone." "Yes..." he ponder over her suggestion. "I know her, so I will come to pick her up. Can you tell me the address of the place?"

Sending her back to her place was probably not a good idea. She'd be alone, no one could help her if there was a need. Telling her address to a stranger didn't seem proper too. Plus, if Jaehee returned home soon, things could turn bad. If she had to face her, she would do it when she was sober. However, the girl on the phone had turned silent. Could it be that as he was wary of her she was also suspecting him?

"We had a fight and she didn't tell me when she'd go. Can you please stay with her until I come?" he asked already leaving the penthouse and entering the elevator. "She sounds pretty drunk, so I'm worried..." "Well… She… Ok. The address is..."

"Oh, it's not that far from her workplace..." he raised a hand as soon as he reached the pavement to call for a cab. "Thanks God a nice person was nearby."

That put his mind at easy. Since the pub was not close to his place, it'd take a while to reach her. He was also worried about the traffic he would encounter on his way there. Luckily he had found a cab easily. Since his driver had already gone home, he didn't have another option. He had to admit that his bad driving skills would put them both in danger in this kind of situation.

"Please hurry, I'll pay double..."

His left leg was shaking from his nervousness. A couple of hours ago he could not even imagine that he'd end up involved in something like this. Since he was already concerned by her absence in the chat room, he should have trusted his judgment and call her to check how she was dealing with the news. If he had, all this would have been avoided. He should not have hesitated.

It took them a while to reach the place and each minute had made them more and more anxious about her situation. He had called a couple of time to check if she was ok; the girl just told him to hurry up. It was not easy to stop her from drinking. She was going on and on about different types of wines in the background and asking for more while the barman repeatedly declined. As soon as he entered, his nose was attacked by the smell of booze and cigarettes. It was packed with young adults, you could barely hear the music over the noise of their conversations. He could not hold back a disgusted face while his eyes were scanning the whole room. He could not understand why someone would choose to spend his New Year's Eve like that. He finally spotted her sitting by the counter.

"Min-Seo!" he called struggling to pass through the patrons.

Her face was red, she was supporting her chin on the counter while holding an empty cup. She was completely wasted. Straightening her back, after she heard the sound of her name, she looked around and let out a hiccup. Next to her was standing a group of four people. A young girl with long, dark hair was alerted by her sudden move. He deducted it was the girl he had spoken with on the phone. When he had almost reached her, she finally realized he was the one who called her name and waved at him hard in a sudden spur of energy.

"It's the handsome CEO Jumin Han!" she said aloud mimicking Saeyoung. "JUMIN, HERE!"

"Yes, I'm right next to you," he grabbed her hand to stop her from waving right in front of his face. "Mr. Han is here!" she told the girl beside her. "Mister..." she squinted her eyes. "His name is JUMIN!" "Thanks for taking care of her," he bowed. "I'm Min-Seo," she stood up and raised her hand. "Are you her boyfriend?" the girl asked angrily and pointed a finger at his chest. "How could you have a fight with her a day like this? And you let her go out and drink alone? What if something happened to her? Did you cheat on her or something? She was crying a lot you know." "Eun-Ji..." the guy next to her smiled nervously. "You should not pry too much..." "No, guys like him piss me off..." "Jumin," Min-Seo placed a hand on his shoulder interrupting the girl and pointed at them rather enthusiastically. "They are dating!" "I see, good for them." "They are a couple!" "Now you are just repeating yourself." "They even kissed!" "I guess that's what couples do," he took the cup out of her hand. "No! I want to drink more!" she whined trying to grab it back. "You drunk enough. Let's go now," he pulled her arm. "No!" she grabbed the counter. "Why are you even here?" "I came for you..." he started pulling her harder. "Come on, don't make a scene." "No! Where are you taking me? I want to stay here!" "Now you are just being stubborn," he started to loose patience. "Has she paid her tab?" "Ah? Yes," the girl answered. "Good then," he grabbed her and placed her on his shoulder. "Thanks again." "You say that, but are you even her boyfriend?" the girl was still suspicious. "Ah! It's Jumin's butt! Hello!"

Eun-Ji's friends tried to hide their laughter seeing her waving at it happily. They had already drawn enough attention and the situation was getting more embarrassing by each meaning; he could feel his cheeks burning. If nothing else, he was grateful she had stopped struggling and was just hanging there counting the tiles on the floor while skipping a few numbers in between. Her attention span was non existent at that point.

"Goodnight then," he wanted to leave the pub as soon as possible. "No! I want to go back!" she cried when they finally exited the place. "Shut up, I'm trying to help you!" he finally snapped and opened the cab's door; he had asked the driver to wait for them. "Oh, like a hero!" she laughed as he was putting her down. "A hero needs a them song!" "Get inside," he asked but she was resisting. "Maybe I should come up with one… Doesn't Han almost sound like man? Are you Juminman?"

It was pointless, he could not reason with her. She wasn't even listening to what he was saying and she would not budge either. In the end, he gave up trying to resolve things politely and held her up, princess carrying him in the cab along with with. Luckily she did not react to that, she was too busy trying to come up with the lyrics.

"Please take us back," he said out of energy. "Juminman-Juminman! It's the amazing Juminman!" she hummed swinging her legs up and down. "He has a cat and a big house, he calls her cute when she meows!" "Isn't that spideyman theme's tune?" he asked exhausted. "The lyrics don't sound very heroic though." "Ah! Spideyman is the best!" she clapped her hands. "Let's go watch Spideyman Close to Home together!"

Clearly, she was unable focus on one thing, the very next moment she was singing the ridiculous song she had come up with again and then claimed that she had come up with one for Elizabeth too; it was essentially the same tune but she was jut meowing instead of singing. He covered a smile with his hand, he could not believe he had found that cute. But what had surprised him the most was that she had cut her hair in the few days they had not met. They were almost at the same length she had them when they first met; it brought back memories.

His fingers run through them; he could not hold back the urge to touch them. Under his touch, she let out a happy sound and made herself more comfortable on his lap. His heart beating fast made him feel uneasy and he removed his hand clumsily. Her energy level had fallen and her eyes had started closing.

"Juminman..." she hummed. "Are we there yet?" he asked the driver but in reality he didn't mind it, staying like that for a little longer. "I'm sorry, sir… It'll take a while." "Were are we going? Are we going home?" "We are going to my place." "Will Jaehee be there?" she mumbled. "That's impossible." "Of course it is… It is, isn't it?" she teared up. "I'll be there..." he touched his forehead on hers. "Just bear with me."

Thankfully, she was quiet for the rest of their ride, just mumbling random words from time to time. He had to support her while walking since her steps were unstable till they reached the penthouse. Elizabeth greeted them right away and rubbed her fur on their legs while he was trying to take off her shoes. Letting a loud interjection by the sight of the white cat, she eagerly tried to pet her slipping from his hands and she fall on the floor facedown, startling Elizabeth who run away and hid herself under a chair.

"No, come back," she cried. "I don't think you're in the right state to pet her," he commented taking off a shoe; it was easier that way. "Jumin, does she hate me?" she asked in tears. "I'm sure she doesn't." "Elliabeth, why do you reject me too?" she let a woe, crawling towards her, she didn't even pronounce the name properly. "Come here, Elizabeth! Let me show you my love." "Just stop for a moment-" he said struggling to take off the other one. "What's this?" she covered up her mouth. "Is this the feeling of rejection?" "Oh, no..." he stopped caring about the shoe and quickly carried her to the bathroom, placing her by the toiler and held her hair back. "Is it because I am a girl?" she asked, tears running down her face. "Come on..." he rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. "Is it?"

She started vomiting after that again and again, coughing in between. Her tears mixed with her snot. He felt that he was not even waiting for an answer to her question; it was sad that she had reached to that conclusion by herself. When her vomit finally stopped she looked pale. Exhausted, she leaned on her side, supporting her body on his torso. Just how much did she like her to drink until she reached to that state? She had dirtied both hers and his shirt. Sighing, he helped her to the bathtub to wash her face and then helped her on her feet, taking her back to the room and sat her on the bed.

Making sure she had placed her properly in a sitting position, he took off his shirt and changed quickly, then looked back at her. Her shirt had vomit on it and he also got her wet while he was trying to clean her face. He picked one of his shirts and proceeded to change her as carefully as he could. The result was ridiculous; it was too big for her but it should keep her warm. He'd made sure to order a change of clothes through the net from the shop located in his apartment building; they were lucky he had read the situation and placed an on his way to the pub before the store closes. The benefits of living there; they sure were hoping to sell overpriced last minute gifts. He had seen an outfit he'd thought it would suit her a couple of days ago, he bought a pair of shoes to match too. The should be delivered by the morning, they contacted him saying that they had left the package to the security guard as he had ordered. He made a note to ask for it the next morning.

"You are so troublesome..." he said, helping her lay on her side and knelt on the bed to place pillows behind her back.

He was about to stand up when he noticed her fingers were grabbing his shirt. She was breathing heavily, mumbling Jaehee's name once again. A tear run on her face. How many days was she crying for her? He swept it with his hands and sat beside her patting her head softly.

"It's ok now..." he rested his back on the bed-board and looked at the night view from his bed.

Fireworks lightened up the sky; his eyes, though tired, opened wide. It was midnight already. Elizabeth run under his bed scared while she moved beside him, curling up more on his sheets. Her grip had loosen up and her breathing slowly became lighter, she was asleep. She took her hands in his and watched her breathing.

His friend loved the night sky; he'd gaze silently at it even when his sight was fading. He always wondered why but he had missed his chance to ask him what was so special about it. As she was laying beside him and he watched the fireworks illuminating the sky. he thought that they were really beautiful for the first time in his like and that he'd like to watch them again if he were with her. And with that, he could not help but wonder if the starry sky held some special memory for his friend. If that's was why he was solemnly smiling at it. It'd probably be like that for him every time he watched fireworks since that day.

"Happy new year, Min-Seo..."

#jumin han #jumin han x mc4 #mysme mc #mysme jumin #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanfi #jumin #mm jumin

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gideonaceleigh · 5 years ago

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Camp NaNoWriMo Week 3

Weekly Round Up!!

Word Count: 53,864/10,000 broke 50k what’s upppp

Average Words per Day: 2,564

That’s nearly 30k this week?? I’m mostly building off of what was already written but it still counts okay??

I have also come up with a working title! PROTOTYPE (I’m not completely sold but it’s definitely something to build off of)

~Day 15 ~ Day 16 ~ Day 17 ~ Day 18 ~ Day 19 ~ Day 20 ~ Day 21~

Tag List: @oscarfuckingwilde @minnowf @dove-actually @dahladahlabills

I’m posting a (much) longer excerpt of a chapter I worked on because #fakegirlfriends Caris (approx. 5,300 words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“This is insane,” hisses Talis, for the fifth time that day.

“I know,” says Iris, also for the fifth time that day.

“By insane I mean suicidal.”

“I appreciate the good vibes you’re sending my way.”

“You know I’m always here for you,” Talis nods sagely.

The tablet is propped back up on its stand on the table under the window so Talis can see the whole room and be a part of the group as Iris and Cat prepare for the gala. They aren’t going to be able to bring much with them. Cat bought a, very tiny, purse while they were hunting for appropriate black-tie attire, but it’s built more for fashion than practicality and therefore barely large enough for them to stuff their ID’s and forged invitation to Claire Bennet plus one, in.

M’Lell didn’t send Iris many documents, but what little they did is chock full of relevant information. Iris spent the morning memorizing the positions of the events security detail and planned watch routes while transferring the documents that sketch out the floor plan of the building to the chip in her arm for ease of access. She feels as prepared for this job as one can be, considering the circumstances, and counts herself lucky not to be going in entirely blind.

While waiting for the taxi Iris gives herself a final look over in the mirror, gently dabbing at her shimmering eyeshadow and lipstick.

Pleased with the outcome she turns to Talis. “What do you think?”

“Very classy. And inconspicuous.”

“Just what I was going for.”

“I know.”

Iris glares at her. “If you know so much then tell me this: where exactly will Ahn have the device?”

Talis disappears from the screen to be replaced by swirling purple mist and black letters slowly pushing through. ‘Try again later’ it reads.

Iris doesn’t bother replying, simply slams the tablet screen down, waits for Talis’ muffled cursing, and shoves it in her purse.

“We ready to go then?” says Cat, emerging from the bathroom. She’s gone with a similar color scheme to Iris’ dress, black with silver accents, though she’s chosen a pair of slacks and suit jacket over a silver button up shirt. Her makeup is more involved than Iris’ however, choosing a bolder red lipstick and dramatic winged eyeliner.

“Whenever you are,” says Iris, admiring her style.

The taxi is waiting for them outside the hotel and whisks them away through the night, passing twinkling streetlamps and bright shop windows. With proper rest the trip through town goes significantly smoother for Iris and she’s able to step out of the cab without the same feeling of nausea. She readjusts the hem of her dress that comes to rest halfway down her thigh, while Cat steps out beside her and takes a minute to process their surroundings.

Ambassador Ahn’s gala is being host at the Galactic Institute of Art and Science, and it is huge. Not big, not large, not giant, but monumentally huge. It takes up an entire block at the center of the city and containes nearly 400 floors. The first ten or so levels are dedicated to hospitality: restaurants, café’s, ballrooms, meetings rooms, etc.; all decorated welcomingly and designed for comfort.

The rest of the floors are split by subject, with art centered rooms on the lower levels, and science higher up. The floors are designed for efficiency and to keep visitor’s attention on the displays. The displays are brought in from planets all over the galaxy and represents the creativity, ingenuity, and genius of a hundred-separate species. Nothing in the known universe could ever come close to comparing to the sheer size and quality of these exhibits.

Not that Iris is going to get much of a chance to look around. In fact, if she’s lucky, she won’t have to look far at all. She’s hoping for a fast entrance and an even faster exit, as long as the universe decides to work in her favor for once.

The night is warm, it’s early summer, but she can’t help a shiver and the goose bumps that form along her arms as she passes between the rose gardens lining the path in front of the museum. She and Cat join the small throng of people making their way up the bone white, marble steps.

They fall into line together and Iris feels Cat jump in surprise when she takes her hand with no warning. Cat looks from their now linked hands, and back at Iris who looks determinedly ahead.

“What?” she starts to ask, but Iris interrupts her.

“We’ll be less obvious like this.”

“Oh,” says Cat. “That’s fair. I usually work alone, and I have to say having a so called partner in crime is a completely different ballpark.”

Iris spares her a smile. “You’ll get used to it in no time. You might even find you like having a partner to help you out,” she says and winks at Cat.

Iris turns her focus on the security guard they’re now in front of. Cat presents the invitation, and both of their ID’s are scrutinized in great detail, but they’re waved through with no problems. A second guard checks Cat’s bags and scans them, taking an extra close look at Iris’ tablet. The machine beeps at Cat and she’s called out of the line, but the harried looking guard waves her through almost before a feeble excuse about jewelry passes her lips.

Annoyance flirts through Iris’ brain. Cat is obviously hiding something in her jacket she didn’t warn Iris about. Cat refuses to meet her eye as they walk the final few feet and into the main foyer. Iris shakes off her annoyance, it isn’t fair of her to expect Cat to tell her everything when they barely know each other and chooses to focus on the room in front of her.

During normal day to day operations the lobby is an impressive site. There’s a mural of the galaxy with every star and planet painted in excruciating detail. On the floor is a mosaic of the more immediate solar system done with the same unbelievable attention to detail. There are shades of green and blue Iris has never seen artificially replicated so perfectly before.

The lobby is divided into twelve sections marked off by pillars made with the same marble as the stairs outside. The room is bathed in a soft yellow light that mimics the tone and movement of thousands of candles everywhere. There are a hundred tables arranged orderly around the room with white tablecloths and silver center pieces. The overall effect is ethereal and mystical. Talis would have loved it if she could see it, but Iris can’t risk being found out, not this early in the night.

“Wow,” says Iris.

“I know,” says Cat.

“Ma’am?” An attendant grabs her attention. “What is your name?”

“Claire Bennet,” she says after a short pause. She’s been caught off guard and hopes he doesn’t notice the hesitation.

Like a professional he ignores her near fatal blunder with nothing more than a quirked eyebrow and checks their logs. “If you’ll follow me, ladies, I’ll escort you to your table.”

“Thank you,” says Iris. She smiles and rests her hand in the crook of Cat’s elbow.

He leads them across the hall to one of the back tables half hidden in shadow. The positioning suits Iris just fine, she has full view of the hall, is seated next to the less important guests that don’t draw much attention and is partially hidden herself.

She sits back in her seat, sips at the wine the attendant pours for her, and watches as the rest of the guests mingle and get settled. Species of every shape, size, and color wander around the lobby oh-ing and ah-ing over the decorations. Their table gradually fills but they are ignored, and they neglect their neighbors.

Cat sits in the seat next to her, but she leaves her drink untouched. While Iris scouts out their surroundings, she scours through the program the attendant leaves them.

“No mention of the prototype here,” she says, too low for any of their neighbors to hear.

“Not much of a surprise there. We’ll stay here until everything gets going. Just follow my lead.”

“You got it, boss.”

Iris rolls her eyes at the over exaggerated deference.

Soon enough the lights dim, and an expectant hush falls over the crowd. A stage lifts from the floor near the opposite side of the hall and a spotlight illuminates a polished wood podium. Ambassador Kimiko Ahn is known the galaxy over as a woman who likes to put on a show, and tonight she doesn’t disappoint.

Anticipation begins to mount to a soundtrack of classical music gradually growing louder and more urgent until the audience is on their feet. It isn’t until the song hits the pinnacle of its score and the crowd, as a collective, feels about to burst that Ahn steps gravely under the light.

Immediately a thunderous round of applause erupts. Iris clamps her hands over her ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the overwhelming noise and notices Cat follow her lead out of the corner of her eye. Ahn, on the other hand, preens under the concentrated attention of so many people and seems to absorb some of that energy into herself.

“Thank you. Thank you, everybody,” she says after a few minutes and gestures for the audience to quiet down. They follow her direction and settle down, eager for the speech she’ll open the gala with.

“I appreciate you taking time out of your busy lives to come to my little get together here tonight.” She pauses in a very obviously rehearsed manner for the bit of laughter that receives to pass. Two screens are lowered next to her, one on either side of the stage for those in the very back, like Iris and Cat, to get the full Ambassador Kimiko Ahn charm effect. This means that Iris can see the nauseatingly self-congratulatory smile Ahn flashes the audience while she magnanimously waits for the laughter to die down.

“Now, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m sure you’re all eager to get through dinner and start exploring my personal collection. Just a few announcements. This floor is free for you to roam, there are over a dozen different displays for you to peruse through and I hope you enjoy them all.

You will have limited access to the second floor where I have a few more interactive activities for you all to play around with, including a rediscovered holographic game we found in the ruins of Allorn. If you don’t mind me say it is very retro, and much fun. And of course, the bar will be open for the duration of the night.

I won’t monopolize your time further tonight, but please feel free to ask me any questions you may have throughout the night. I could talk for an eternity about everything you will see on display tonight. Again, thank you so much for coming out tonight and I hope you enjoy yourself.”

The stage goes dark and Ambassador Ahn is lost to shadow. A miniature army of waiters come swarming from the edges of the room and descend on the guests with trays of food. The attentive mood that had overtaken the crowd snaps, and is replaced by the sounds of conversation, laughter, and clinking cutlery that now ring out across the room.

While everyone else relaxes and turns their attention to dinner Iris goes on full alert and prepares to make her escape to somewhere a little less populated, but with a lot more security.

There’s a dark hall practically directly behind her. A quick glance around her shows everyone in the immediate vicinity preoccupied with food and conversation. She taps Cat on the arm who in turn grasps her purse close to her person. They slip down the shadowy hall and hide around the first corner.

Iris pulls out her tablet from one of the roomy pockets in her dress and thumbs on the flashlight. She lights up her left forearm and touches the swirly, flower tattoo. She watches as the ink swirls against her skin and forms into the rough outline of the buildings floor plans.

The map shows them on the east side of the facility and in the hall leading to an area generally reserved for employee use, which means it will be largely abandoned during a private function, and has halls leading to all sections of the first floor while avoiding the main floors. She’s reasonably certain she knows where Ahn would stash the device, at least generally, if she brought it with her. The problem being it’s on the complete opposite side of the museum and she’ll have to sneak past the kitchens to get there.

Iris flicks the light off and presses herself against the wall, pulling Cat along with her, when she hears the low murmur of voices and hurried footsteps coming towards her. Iris watches a light bob up and down as the intruders make their way towards them. There’s no way they won’t be noticed. They’re still close enough to the banquet they can easily feign ignorance and claim they got lost on their way to find a restroom.

But if they do that, they’ll probably insist of walking them back to the main room. They need another guise, another reason why they need to be here. Some excuse of privacy they’re likely to empathize with and be willing to overlook their voyeur into a restricted area.

They grow closer, Iris is able to pick out a few words from their conversation such as ‘happy’ and ‘dessert’ and figure they’re part of the serving staff. That doesn’t stop her heart from racing at the idea of being caught.

The glow of the intruder’s light is about to hit them and Iris panics, jumping on the first idea that pops in her stressed mind.

She grabs Cat by her jacket lapels, pushes her up against the wall, stands on her very tippy toes, and presses her lips against hers.

Iris can feel Cat, understandably tense up at first. She is surprised, however, by how quickly she relaxes under Iris’ grip and begins to return the kiss, bending her knees to make them more level with one another.

It almost makes Iris forget why they started this in the first point. It doesn’t last long.

“What have we got here?” asks a voice behind them.

Iris whips around, immediately covering her eyes with a hand to protect them from the bright light shining right at them.

“The parties back that way you know,” says the second party, obviously struggling to push back her giggles.

“I didn’t think anyone was down here,” Iris says, not having to fake the shaking in her voice. “We,” she pauses to look at Cat and grab her hand, “were just looking for a bit of privacy.”

“We can see that,” says the first person. “We’ll pretend we didn’t see you if you promise to rejoin the gala soon. And under no circumstances go further down the hallway. We got a deal?” he asks.

“Of course, thank you so much. I appreciate your discretion here.”

“Don’t mention it,” says the woman. “And don’t have too much fun.” She winks at them.

Iris sighs in relief as they disappeared down the hall. She taps the light back on, this time on a lower setting, and sets off down the hall with Cat in tow.

“What? You’re just going to do that and act like nothing happened?” accuses Cat, tension clear in her voice.

“I told you, acting like a couple makes us a lot less conspicuous.”

“You’re a lot wilder than anyone ever gives you credit for, Iris.” Something close to admiration lacing her tone and replacing the tension.

“I ran off with the son of my families arch-nemesis for two years. What part of that doesn’t scream ‘wild’ to you?”

“Fair enough. Where are we going anyways?” asks Cat.

“We need to get to the other side of the buildings. Unfortunately, is seems the best route there is going to take us straight passed the kitchen.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best plan.”

“It’ll be fine. Like I said, just follow my lead and be quiet,” says Iris. They come to an intersection and she carefully pokes her head out and check that there’s no one there.

“I don’t think being quiet is going to get us passed the kitchen.” Cat rushes after Iris as she jogs through the intersection.

“Thanks, Cat. I’ll figure out a way passed it once I get a look at it.”

“Planning on the fly. I love it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not. I’m going to go with you’re being sincere and ignore any evidence to the contrary.”

Iris pretends she doesn’t hear Cat’s responding chuckle as they resume their trek to the west side of the building. The hallways are pleasantly deserted, it seems almost too easy and she can’t help but feel like they’re walking straight into a trap. Even if they are there’s not much more for her to do but march into the lion’s den, head held high.

Iris and Cat are a few halls down from the kitchens before she starts to notice any signs of life in these side paths. Iris can hear the busy sounds of clinking pots and escaping steam, along with the scent of spices wafting over her.

She waves Cat closer to the wall and inches forward a few more inches until she hovers around a corner where she can observe the kitchen without being seen for a few minutes while she tries to come up with a plan to get passed.

There isn’t much going on this side of the kitchen as there is at the second door closer to the lobby, but every once in a while one of the cooking assistances bustles around fetching some pot or other for the chef. Iris begins to brace herself to grab Cat and make a mad dash by the kitchen door when one of the event’s security guards decides to make a grand appearance.

This guard isn’t from the same group keeping keen eyes on the guests. This one comes from Ahn’s personal contingent composed largely of Walyer’s. A species of large, green specimens with thick, scale like skin, and anything from two to six horns framing their faces making their large eyes, which already take up nearly half of their faces as is, seem even larger.

The bottom half of their face is occupied by a small mouth with lips that are eternally held open by large, yellowing fangs. Walyer’s often find themselves employed as personal security and prison transports due to their intimidating features and ability to exert brute force. Iris has never met a Wayler who stands less that nine feet tall and isn’t too broad to fit through standard doorways.

This Wayler is particularly intimidating. They’re nearly eleven feet tall with two giant guns strapped to its back, a belt of vicious looking knives around its waist, and a vest of grenades and other explosive weapons attached.

Iris swore she felt her heart seize and a wave of dizziness wash over, she feels herself start to hyperventilate.

“Well fuck,” she says, and immediately clamps a hand over her mouth as she inches back to where she left Cat. Luckily the Wayler doesn’t seem to hear her. She grabs Cat and scurries down the hall to hide behind a large potted plant, crouching down as low as she can. A few seconds of clearing her mind and taking deep, calming breathes and she is back in the moment. She slowly loosens her death grip on Cat’s arm and cautiously peeks around the plant back the way she’s come.

“What the hell, Iris?” Cat finally asks, now that Iris doesn’t appear on the verge of bolting out of this galaxy.

Iris peeks around the plant and finds there’s no sign of the Wayler so she relaxes, slumping with her back against the wall, and rests her head in her hands.

“Wayler,” she says.

Cat swears. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I very much wish that were so,” says Iris, not lifting her head.

“Okay,” says Cat. She sits down next to Iris and thrums her fingers against her leg. “Okay, we need to leave. We can go back to the hotel and work on a new plan. We have time, and this is officially too dangerous.”

“I thought I was the one in charge here? Can’t you just,” Iris waves her hands around, “just siren it or whatever?”

“Oh, come on. First of all, that is so not how that works. And secondly, you don’t actually plan on going through with this?”

Iris raises an eyebrow at her and shrugs her shoulders, already inching forward again.

“Wow. I didn’t believe them, but you really are full hardy aren’t you?”

Iris ignores this as she resumes her earlier spot at the corner peeking into the kitchen, Cat sliding along behind her trying to stick close.

“You know there’s another reason Zerich chose me to come with you. It’s because no one else wanted to be dragged along on your desperate bid for freedom. Your reputation precedes you,” says Cat, hissing the last part under her breath.

Iris rolls her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. There’s nothing desperate about this. I’m just eager for it to be over.”

“Either way, you’re willing to get us killed.”

“You don’t have to babysit me you know. You are free to go back to the hotel. I know you can track my tablet so it’s not like I’m going to disappear if I get back out,” says Iris. She’s growing increasingly annoyed at the delay, she could have gotten passed the kitchen and on her way in the amount of time they’ve spent bickering.

“And miss the fun?” Iris is surprised by the sudden smile on her face. “Not for anything. I’m ready for an Iris brand adventure.” Cat pulls a compact pistol from her inside jacket pocket and gestures to the kitchen with it. “Lead the way, I’m right behind you.”

“I don’t understand you.” Iris shakes her head, happy in the fact that even though Cat kept its existence from her it’s coming in handy now.

“Good.”

“Right.” She motions for Cat to be quiet and strains her ears, searching for any sound or sign of movement. Hearing nothing, she ducks her head out for a quick look. Seeing nothing, she takes a deep breath and looks to Cat.

“It’s not that far,” whispers Iris.

“Make a run for it?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Iris rolls her shoulders, sends out a plea for success to the universe, and nods to Cat. Cat nods back, and they throw themselves down the hall. They bound passed the kitchen door in a few, sprawling strides, until they reach the shadows of the next hall where they can’t be seen.

Iris slips at the last minutes and ends up scrapping her knee and ripping her leggings in the process. Cat partially catches her and pushes her up against the wall and they freeze, breathing heavily and listening again for any indication they’ve been discovered. Hearing nothing again, they relax, and take stock of the position they’ve found themselves in. Eye to eye, face to face, so close they can feel each other breath and uncomfortably reminiscent of their earlier farce.

The two quickly push apart, breaking eye contact, and take a moment to compose themselves and catch their breath.

There’s no sign of the Wayler. While they’re large, they’re deceptively quiet. Iris can only hope it went through the kitchen and out the other side.

Taking advantage of this quiet moment Iris studies the map on her arm. She waits for it to update and reorient itself to her new position. The situation is getting too nerve wracking for her taste and she’s hoping to find a new route to their destination.

Preferably one unreachable by Wayler’s.

There’s a room in the west wing where the museum catalogs and cleans their items. Some of these items get left in the room for days, so the room is heavily protected and seems the best place to keep something valuable holed up for a night.

She moves the map around, trying to find a new angle, as if that will make a secret route magically appear. Which is exactly what happens. She zooms in to try and get a closer look at their current location and a hidden lower layer of the map appears, revealing a series of vents she didn’t notice before traveling right over where she needs to be. She dances in place as a silent victory cheer.

“What did you find?” asks Cat.

Iris looks up and flashes her light along the hall looking for the entrance to the vent and there, just a few feet to her left on the ceiling, is a grill just big enough for her to squeeze through. Though that assumes she’ll be able to reach that high and force it open in the first place.

She smiles.

“Slight change of plans. I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Not particularly.”

“Good, because I am,” says Iris.

Before she’s able to psych herself up and find a way to get into the vent she hears footsteps. She hurriedly turns off her light and contorts herself into a small, formless blob against the wall until they pass. They have the good fortune of being in a hall that has the lights turned off and easily go unseen.

Light back on she places herself under the vent and slides her hand as far up the wall as she can and finds that, even on her tiptoes, her fingertips are barely able to graze the bottom of the grate guarding the vent.

“Oh, that is cute,” says Cat with a giggle.

“Shut up,” says Iris. “If you don’t have anything productive to add to the conversation then leave me alone. It’s not like you’re much better off.”

“No. But this might help,” she says hauling over a bench Iris overlooked.

Iris stares at it for a few minutes, annoyed at herself for not seeing it first.

“Be my guest.” She moves to the side to give Cat room to position the bench and step up on it.

It’s only about knee high, and doesn’t seem particularly sturdy, but it gives her the extra boost needed making it the best, if only, option she has.

Iris lifts the tablet up until it lights up the entrance to the vent, so Cat is able to get a better look at it as she clambers onto the table. She takes a moment to find her center of gravity, then digs her fingernails between the metal grate and the wall and yanks.

A shower of plaster pours down, sounding like raindrops hitting the ground as they fall to the floor. Covered in a smattering of dust Cat muffles a cough in the crook of her elbow. She crouches down on the table and passes the grate to Iris, who in turn hands her the tablet-turned-flashlight, and gently leans the grate against the legs of the bench on the floor.

This finished, Cat squints up into the dark vent with reluctance.

“It’s disgusting,” she says.

“Would you rather risk running into the Waylor again?”

Cat sighs but doesn’t respond. Iris watches as she grasps the edges of the vent opening, experimentally jumps up and down testing the vents durability, and heaves herself up and in. She wedges her elbows in, hooks a knee over the edge, and pulls herself forwards. The vent’s only a few inches wider than her shoulders and it takes her a few seconds of calculated wiggling to get fully inside.

Iris leaves her alone as she lays on her stomach, gasping for breath, and feels grateful that she wasn’t the one to go in first. She’s also grateful she’s had the foresight to wear a dress with a flexible skirt and practical flats.

“You doing okay in there?” she asks after what seems like an appropriate amount of time passed.

“I am absolutely fantastic. I love having spiders for dinner,” Cat says. Her voice is muffled and has an odd echo to it, like she’s speaking into a tin can. Which she essentially is, all things considered.

“Your sacrifice for the greater good has been noted. You about ready to keep going?”

“Why did I go first when you’re the one with the map anyways?”

Iris rolls her eyes. “I loaded the map on the tablet too. Just follow the purple line I laid out; it’ll be fine.”

“You say that now, but I’m not certain you’re going to be feeling that way once you’re in here, Miss Claustrophobic.”

“Yes, thank you. I’m trying not to think about it so how about you scoot up a bit and let me get this over with already?”

Cat moves forward another foot, giving Iris just enough room to haul herself in. She places her hands on the vent and pushes herself up until the top half of her is lying down. Her feet scramble under her, trying to find something to gain purchase on. She should have made an actual plan here before jumping in. She doesn’t find anything to brace her feet against, but there are a few crevices along the wall she’s able to dig her fingers into and pull herself the rest of the way in with.

She stays where she is, resting her head on her arms for a few minutes trying to steady her breathing. She can feel her heart beginning to race and just the thought of looking up and seeing nothing, but grey walls makes her nauseous.

“Oh my god,” she says. She can feel her chest begin to constrict as panic sets in.

“Don’t worry, it gets better.” Iris can feel the vibrations of her voice through the vent.

“What, are there scorpions up ahead or something?”

“No, I actually mean it. It opens up quite a bit just up ahead.”

“If you’re fucking with me, I will cry. Forewarning.”

“Get up here, Iris.”

Iris groans, but she finally lifts her head, doing everything in her power to focus solely on Cat ahead of her.

Cat is right, the vent opens up considerably just a short distance away. Iris crawls her way forward until she’s able to sit up next to Cat.

“This map is stupid,” says Cat.

“Be nice to my map.”

“I’m sorry map,” says Cat.

“Thank you. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s rather bare bones don’t you think? How am I supposed to figure out where the hell we are?”

“Let me see it,” says Iris, yanking it from Cat’s grasp when she holds it out behind her.

“Rude, but okay.”

Iris reorients the map until it’s zoomed in on their location and a purple line tracing their path through the maze of vents appears.

“Do you want it back, or do you want me to navigate for you?” Iris holds the tablet out to Cat.

“I think I can handle from here. It’s not like there are a lot of actual direction changes or something,” says Cat. “You ready to go again?”

Iris rubs at her face, trying to pull all the cobwebs from her face. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She hopes the map M’Lell gave her is accurate, it has been up to now, because the idea of being trapped up here makes her breath catch in her throat. She forces that train of thought out of her mind and focuses on the task at hand. Namely not dying.

#writblr #amwriting #camp nano #camp nano roundup #wip silver #silver: excerpt #silver: caris

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