#keep in mind this is the same woman (my sister) who refuses to do washing up 'because of her nails' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

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

438 notes · View notes

feralandmoonstruck · 4 years ago

Text

Promise

DNI IF UNDER 18

WC: 1745

True to his word, Prince Viorel spent most of the next three days in the infirmary with Fiora. He had left her side a handful of times, but was never gone long. He even slept nearby until she was discharged.

“I want to see the others,” she told Viorel as they left the infirmary together.

“I’ve already made arrangements and am taking you to see them now.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Thank you, Prince.”

“I promised you I would, and I always keep my promises.”

Fiora could hear the murmurs of courtiers and servants that they passed. She drew herself up under the frightened gazes that fell upon her mottled visage. She refused to look apologetic or embarrassed in the face of their twittering. Her defiance was in every line of her face. The scabs and swelling and bruises were all a reminder to herself and others, When faced with capture, I chose death. Having been stopped from going through with it was something entirely different from backing down on her own.

“Before we part,” Viorel said, “I was wondering if you might like to have rooms made up near mine, or if you’d prefer elsewhere?”

Fiora looked at him. “It depends on what my purpose here is.”

“I could not tell you what Dracen had in mind, but you would be part of the court in one form or another.”

Fiora heard the words he didn’t speak aloud. If you choose me, your life will be better. She chewed her tongue for a moment. “I know which you’d rather I pick.”

Viorel ducked his head. “I will admit that I have hope. I would not have made the suggestion otherwise.”

“Do I need to make my decision now?”

“You may see your friends first, if you wish, but the sooner your decision is made, the sooner I can have your rooms ready. You still need rest.”

“I’d like to wait.”

They came to a stop in front of a door gilded with gold. “Of course,” he said. “Once you’ve made up your mind, simply send Lettie or another of the maids to inform me.”

Beyond the golden door, the room was filled with sunlight. She didn’t have a chance to notice much more, because the moment they saw her all of the Oleran women surged to their feet as one. A wave of concerned voices. Viorel shut the door quietly behind her.

“Fiora,” they shouted, “are you alright?” Their questions overlapped with shrieks at her appearance.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” she assured them. She let them pull her deeper into the room and settle her on a couch.

“What happened?”

“We’ve been so worried about you!”

“They said you’d been hurt. Was it one of the soldiers?”

Fiora held up her hands to slow the onslaught of questions. “I hurt myself. That’s why I wasn’t here sooner, I’ve been held in the infirmary for three days.”

“Why would you do something like this to yourself,” Anjali, one of the oldest women among them, asked. She leaned forward, letting her black hair fall like a curtain. “You can tell us if someone did this to you.”

Fiora squeezed her arm. “I promise, I did this. I thought death would be the better option.”

Maria, one of the youngest of their group, began to weep. Jasmine and Beatrice, two sisters who’d run the mill after their father, moved to console her.

“You’re so strong,” another said. “I could never be as strong as you. Even if life here might be terrible, I just don’t think I could fight as hard as you have.”

A spark of annoyance shot through Fiora as a chorus of agreements rose around her. “They took us from our lives! Burned our homes to the ground! How could you not want to fight?”

Camry, a girl standing at the edge of the group, gave Fiora a small smile. “Fi, we’re not fighters. We never have been. And even if we were, what could we even do now? You said so yourself, our home is gone. We don’t have anything to go back to.”

Fiora bit her tongue and shook her head. “It doesn’t mean we have to give in to them.” She could taste the bitterness of the hypocrisy her words left behind. How dare she lecture them on giving in when she had spent nearly all her time here in the company of a prince?

“Fighting now would only make our lives more miserable. So far they’ve done nothing to hurt us. The only one of us hurt is you.”

“And the rest of you agree with this?”

The women gathered around Fiora looked away, mumbling noncommittal answers. She knew they were right, but to accept it felt like a betrayal of everything she believed. And yet, Viorel's offer hung like a glimmering crystal before her. It would be so easy to accept. She could give up and give in. It would mean having a better life than she could have ever dreamed of in Olera. There, she was just another poor person living on the edge of the kingdom, so far from the capital that help was hard to come by and any wealth got lost long before it came anywhere near Millen.

Fiora stood and pushed her way through them. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe any of you.” she shook her head, “Turning your backs on Olera so easily.”

Camry stepped forward and laid a hand on Fiora’s arm. “Fi, you don’t have to keep fighting. No one will think less of you for doing what needs to be done. You think we don’t want to fight? Our lives and our families were destroyed, Fi. Of course we want to fight! But fighting isn’t going to bring them back. Nothing will. We’re just trying to be realistic, and so long as we have each other, as long as we’re alive, we’ll be Olerans. Nothing can change that or take that away from us. It’s just, there’s no reason to make ourselves more miserable than we already are.”

Fiora yanked her arm out of Camry’s grasp. She shook her head, the corners of her eyes burning. “I don’t,” her mouth opened and closed several times. Camry was right, these women were all she had left of her home. There was no way back to how their lives were before. “How do I stop,” she whispered. Tears slid down her swollen cheeks.

Camry wrapped her arms around Fiora. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, “we’re all here for you. For all of us.”

Anjali rose and joined her. “I wish we had an answer, but I think that’s something we each have to find within ourselves. And even then we may never know.” She rubbed broad circles along Fiora’s back.

“How are you not scared?”

“We are,” Anjali whispered.

“Hattie hasn’t been eating,” Jasmine spoke up from where she cradled Maria to her chest, “and Juniper won’t get out of bed.”

A murmur of agreement went through the cluster of women. Fiora let herself be drawn back into their embrace. Giving their fears voice diminished their power little by little. It made them smaller and the bond between the women stronger. They cried together for all that they had lost. Time was immaterial as they clung to each other. When the door opened they all jumped. More than one of them let out a little scream, but it was only the maids.

“Ladies,” an older woman in Breschen colors spoke. “We’ve been sent to prepare you for your presentations to the royal family.”

Several of the Oleran women began to sob again as the maids filed in and drew their charges out of the room. One by one their numbers dwindled. Maria clung first to Jasmine and then to Beatrice, refusing to leave until their guards entered the room to prize them apart.

Fiora was one of the last women to leave. “Where’s Lettie,” she demanded when Milo came to fetch her.

“She’s finishing setting up your rooms.”

“My rooms?”

“Prince Viorel is having you something made up near his quarters.”

Fiora shook her head. “I didn’t– he said I could decide.”

Milo shrugged. “You’ll not be questioning the prince’s orders.” He took her by the arm and led her out of the room.

“He can’t do this! He said it was my decision,” she spat.

“The prince can do as he pleases.”

“I demand to see him!”

“Demand all you want, it’s not going to make a difference. Neither Vioral, nor any of the royal family will ever jump at your demands. You’ll see him when he wishes, and not a moment before.”

Fiora growled and swore all the way to her new room. Milo deposited her inside with Lettie and snapped the door shut behind her.

“How did your visit with your friends go,” Lettie asked. “My apologies for not being there, but as you can see…” she let the words trail off as she gestured around them.

The room was done up in greens and golds. Iron lattice adorned the exterior of the windows and cast intricate shadows on the plush rugs that covered the gleaming wood floors. The bed was larger and more beautiful than Fiora had ever seen. The footboard was carved into a masterpiece of forestry so detailed that she could hardly follow it. A glance at the headboard told her it was much the same. Each of the four posts were topped with carvings of an owl. This room wasn’t meant for someone who was considered a prisoner. Not even someone who would be a maid. Fiora’s heart lurched at the same moment her stomach twisted when she realized the implications.

Fiora dragged her gaze back to Lettie, “I can’t believe he did this.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Lettie ushered her deeper into the room. “Now, I know that this isn’t as close to Prince Viorel as you might have hoped, but even he has rules that must be followed. But don’t worry, he’s not far. In the meantime, why don’t I get you washed and ready for your presentation to the family, hm?”

Her shoulders slumped forward. “If you must.”

“We won’t be able to cover up all of the bruising, but I promise to do my best.”

“I’m not worried,” she sighed.

Lettie laughed. “I appreciate your confidence in me. The bathing room is this way.”

#the spite ratio #tsr #my writing

9 notes · View notes

aprilsrant · 5 years ago

Text

Praised be writer’s block | Young!Remus Lupin x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: in the midst of an upcoming war and worries about the future, (Y/N) bonds with an unexpected person, golden boy from gryffindor house himself.

WORD COUNT: 3,000, more or less…

A/N: this is my first time doing this, so if you have any suggestions please let me know! also, if you can, reblog so it can reach more people, it’ll help me a lot.

All of this wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for @peeves-a-legend, which btw is an amazing writer. I can’t thank you enough!

Masterlist.

The gif below is not mine, credits to the original maker. And yes, I see robert sean leonard as a young!remus, but you can imagine whoever you want.

In one of the few sunny and warm mornings left of the season, (Y/N)’s mother had dragged her to Diagon Alley to buy her school’s supplies. The term for her sixth year was about ten days away from starting and going there didn’t thrill her anymore. She had retarded the visit as long as her mother’s patience lasted (which wasn’t a lot considering the woman had belonged to Hufflepuff), and no one had been succesfull on finding the reason, althought her mum suspected it.

(Y/N) hadn’t felt the rush of excitement run through her body in a long time when she thought about going back to Hogwarts, and buying supplies meant she was only a step closer. Her first two years were more than she could ever ask for, but everything came crashing down on her at the young age of thirteen.

(Y/N) had started to notice the repulsive look on people’s faces whenever she tried to help them, all looking down at her green robes as if she had grown a third arm or a second head overnight. She realised, with now a heavy weight on her heart and a new insecurity over her mind, that not all Hufflepuffs were kind and inviting. Maybe, she supposed, they were too proud to accept help from anyone else.

Or perhaps, (Y/N) was too naive to think she could defy centuries of old stereotypes and unhealthy competitions while wearing a green and silver tie.

But the rude comments and weird stares had not affected her in such a long time. She didn’t show them how angry she got about those and how much she wanted to scream at those Gryffindors to get over themselves, because if she did, she was proving their point. All snakes, young or old, end up being violent creatures. Instead, a new feeling of uneasiness had settled in her mind, washing away her minor problems.

Peace no longer reigned over the Wizarding World. Rumors of a war were spreading like wildfire. Voldemort’s ranks got bigger and bigger with the passing time, and more muggle families and muggleborns were being wiped out, like they meant nothing. In those dark times, not having magic or being from a family with the wrong kind of ancestors, could determine your doom.

In her case, she wasn’t at the top of the Dark Eater’s food chain as a halfblood, but that didn’t ease her nerves. She was more worried about her father, a muggleborn, her grandparents and several other friends. Many of their families wanted to go into hiding and she knew that this year and the others to come, Hogwarts wouldn’t be so magical.

Once they passed through the brick wall at the Leaky Cauldron, their first stop was the Apothecary, which (Y/N) had refused to enter because of the disgusting smell of bad eggs and something more repulsive she didn’t identify. Instead, she decided to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies. It’s not like she played the sport, Merlin knows how awful she was at throwing or hitting things, and playing as Seeker was not an option. But she always attended the matches, channelling every single piece of energy her body had onto cheering for Slytherin’s team.

(Y/N) made her way to one of the corners of the shop, wanting to see the newest Quidditch gloves her best friend had talked about so much in her letters. Maybe she could get her a new pair for her birthday, so she could start the season with brand new gloves. But looking at the price, she realized a cheappier gift would have to do. Her family wasn’t the richest and she knew her parents were struggling with money lately.

“Expensive, aren’t they?,” asked a voice from behind her. She turned around, one of the gloves still on her right hand, and noticed that the voice belonged to no other than Remus Lupin. She was lying to herself if she said he wasn’t good looking. Those dark brown eyes and soft hair had gotten to her when they were in their fourth year. (Y/N) had spent weeks, maybe even months, crushing on him and, of course, annoying her friends to no end about how perfect he was and how he was one of the few decent members of the lion house. But she never tried anything, she had a long list of excuses that, maybe, exceeded the many numerous reasons why she liked the Gryffindor so much.

“Definitely,” (Y/N) finally answered with a grimace in her face, “I thought I could get a pair for my best friend’s birthday since she’s a Chaser, but I’m not so sure now”.

Remus offered her a small smile and muttered something about how her best friend would appreciate anything she would give her. After that, neither of them said anything and only the noise of other people’s chattering could be heard. She looked around the store, trying to think about something that would lead to more talk, while Remus put his hands in his jeans’s pockets and changed the weight of his body to his left leg.

A few more seconds passed and (Y/N), not tolerating the awkward atmosphere anymore, was the one to initiate the conversation this time.

“So, um, Remus, are you, um, planning on joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Since, you know, you are… here”.

Merlin, her sister was right, she did need to start socialising more.

“Oh no, not a chance,” he answered letting a snicker escape his lips. (Y/N)’s mouth turned into a little smile because of the sound, not noticing at first. “I’m just here because of James and Sirius, they wanted to see some new brooms that came out this…”.

Remus words were interrupted by the same people he’d just mentioned. James Potter and Sirius Black, the most known students at Hogwarts, were walking towards them. (Y/N) tried to put on a neutral face, not showing her true thoughts on the two boys.

It wasn’t that she hated them. At some point, she had found her pranks on those horrible Slytherins funny, but after last year her opinion on them changed drastically. It appeared to be that they couldn’t distinguish who were the “good” Slytherins therefore they’d just played cruel jokes on every single member of the house. Or maybe, they didn’t think Slytherins could be nice and decent people, so all of them deserved to be made fun of.

“REMUS!,” they both shouted at the same time. Almost everyone in the shop turned to see them, and as (Y/N) moved uncomfortable with a scowled look because of the new, and unwanted attention, she wondered why they had to be so bloody loud all the time. “We were looking for you, but it seems you have found some company”.

Remus’s cheeks changed to a soft crimson after Sirius’s comment.

“Careful now, Rem, snakes tend to bite and some of them are poisonous.” James’s eyes shined with mischief as he spoke.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at that, but instead of keeping quiet as she normally would, she responded to Potter’s remark, surprising the others and herself in the process.

“Excellent observation, James. Now, how much time did it take you to come up with that and for how long you’ve been wanting to use it? Perhaps, it was after that particular Quidditch match where Slytherin shredded you into pieces ”.

His face no longer showed a fun expression, but, in it’s place, was a face with narrowed eyes trying to hide the fact he had been caught. (Y/N) smiled at that, she was not this kind of person but it was good to see Potter embarrassed after he had humiliated her in front of half the school just a few months ago. She knew Sirius wanted to say something to save his friend, but as his mouth was starting to open to spill some sarcastic or stupid comment about her house, Remus stepped in.

“Sirius, don’t say anything, just leave her alone,” he began, giving the pair a pointed look with his eyebrows raised, “we were only talking, there’s no need to start acting as if she’s going to bite my head off”.

Dumb and Dumber, as one her Slytherin friends liked to called them, stared at Remus like he had transformed into a Hipogriff. (Y/N), as surprised as she was, glanced at him with a confused, yet somehow grateful, look on her face. In return, he smiled at her and grabbed his friends from the shoulders, making them walk towards the door while mentioning something about having to meet up with Peter at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.

Before reaching the door, Remus turned around, let go of Sirius for a moment and waved at her with a grin, one that made her cheeks blushed and her stomach flipped.

|||

It had been months since the interaction between her and Remus, plus James and Sirius. A small smile and a certain glow in her eyes stayed present on her face for the rest of the trip to Diagon Alley with her mother, who had not missed the sudden shift in her daughter’s appearance.

She hadn’t talked much with him again (only a few more times because of their prefect meetings), but the little interactions between them remained. Like the gentle and kind smiles they would send to each other while walking in the school grounds and greetings from afar with a short wave of the hand.

Winter break was just around the corner when they met again. Both wrapped around heavy coats, gloves and scarfs protecting them from the cold wind and the freezing fog. (Y/N) would have been pissed about her feet getting wet from the snow if it wasn’t for the outstanding landscape it created. A pure scenery, grounds and trees and roofs of the castle covered in white, in such terrible and corrupted times.

“Lovely, huh?,” he mouthed.

What is it with this boy and sneaking up on people?

(Y/N) nodded, still unable to tear her eyes from the view. When she finally did, she became aware of how close they were, elbows almost touching. Releasing a shaky breath, that quickly changed into what it looked like fog, (Y/N) peered at him. The end of his nose was red, matching his cheeks, while his lips were pale and dry from the weather. It was an adorable sight, perhaps even more worthy of her attention than the snowflakes falling from the sky.

“What makes you go to Hogsmeade on this particular frosty afternoon, (Y/N)?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Remus,” she exclaimed, the corners of her mouth quirking up as she mentioned his name, “but, if you really like to know, I’m heading there because I forgot about some Christmas’s presents. What about you?”

Without perceiving it, they had both started to walk towards the small town, making their way through the layers of snow.

“I just, um, wanted to visit Hogsmeade one last time before, you know, going home.” For a moment, (Y/N) had the idea of hearing some kind of hesitation while he spoke, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was saying.

This time, (Y/N) would not let the conversation turn awkward so rapidly, after all this was her chance of having an actual opportunity with Remus. So she swallowed the majority of her nerves, which were quite a lot, and planted a smile on her face. But before the words could come out of her mouth, Remus himself had beat her.

“Would you like to come to the Three Broomsticks with me?,” he questioned.

It took her a few seconds to understand what he had asked because of how rushed he’d spoken. Her eyes widened at the notion of going on a date with him. Was it even a date? A small voice wondered inside her head. Ignoring it, she replied with a short yes. His entire demeanour immediately transformed. Remus’s eyes didn’t hold too much worry now and a large smile decorated his face.

The trip to the popular pub was shorter than it normally was, but (Y/N) guessed that had been for how much she and Remus talked while walking to the town. When they arrived, the warm and cozy ambient, although a bit smoky and crowded, received them like a bright lamp post in the middle of nowhere pointing out the pathway. Even if (Y/N) loved winter and snow, a hot butterbeer didn’t seem too bad after being exposed to the cold wind.

Sitting down at one of the tables from the right corner of the shop, right next to a large window and giving the back to one of the walls, she could see the entire place. But her eyes were now glued to the Gryffindor seated in front of her, who was trying not to look like he was going to pass out from the nerves of having a date (was it a date?) with the most gorgeous girl in Hogwarts, maybe even the whole world.

They passed the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, chatting regarding the things they loved and hated from Hogwarts; complaining about professors and the amount of homework they sent; laughing because of some ridiculous story told by Remus (he swore his breath got caught in his lungs as he watched her throwing her head back while letting out a loud laugh, eyes shining with happiness and not caring, for the first time, about the looks from the people in the place). They discussed their favourite muggle authors, the most amazing films that had ever been made and their dreams after finishing their education.

(Y/N) had felt herself falling all over again for him while watching him talk about how much he’d loved being a professor and being there for his students. The passion and shine in his eyes rivaled even the brightest star in the night sky.

And Remus had seen the same expression in her face when she talked about becoming a known writer in both the muggle and wizarding world. Despite her excitement, he recognised something else in her eyes, perhaps uncertainty or even sadness. When he asked about it, (Y/N) confided in him the fact she was scared about trying it.

“What if it’s a waste of time? What I’m supposed to write about?”

“It won’t be a waste of your time if it makes you happy,” he reassured her, “and the ideas will come to you, don’t worry. You can even write about us.” (Y/N)’s eyes quickly made their way into his after hearing that. “I mean, about this part of our world”. She couldn’t help but feel quite disappointed.

“Wouldn’t I be violating the Statute of Secrecy?”

Remus raised his shoulders a little as he pressed his lips together, clearly trying to stop a smile from forming in his face.

“It’s not like the Ministry is going to find out,” he whispered, so only (Y/N) could be able to listen to him, “ who’s going to tell them about it? Me?”

A scoff left her mouth and she rolled her eyes playfully at him. Was this really happening? Remus Lupin, the boy she had a crush on in her fourth year, sitting in front of her, encouraging her to follow her dreams.

“Is the Golden Boy and Prefect of Gryffindor House actually saying that I should just break an International Law?” she joked while shaking her head in disbelief, “McGonagall would be so heart broken”.

Now it was his time to roll his eyes. Directing a smirk at her, he leaned back in his chair, more relaxed and with a new light glowing around him.

“Look, I would love to write about this world. But ambition is not the only trait that got me in Slytherin,” (Y/N) declared. She beamed when he furrowed his brows together in confusion, getting closer to the table and placing his elbows on top of it. “Violating that Law is having a death wish and self preservation is one of my top priorities”.

“I can’t help but agree to that”.

The hours kept running and people began to leave the pub, but not them. They had stayed until the owner told the teenagers he was closing. Not (Y/N) nor Remus had noticed where the time had gone. Quickly, they collected all of their belongings and left the establishment in a hurry. (Y/N) didn’t want to think about the punishment they’d received if they were caught.

Fortunately, they made it to the castle in one piece. Once they were a few meters away from the entrance, they started to laugh. None of them knew why, it just seemed like a good time to do it.

“What happened to you and your advice of breaking the rules?” (Y/N) said in the middle of a laugh.

“I hope this doesn’t become a tradition, Mr. Lupin, Ms. (Y/L/N),” a stern female voice said in front of them. Professor McGonagall was standing gracefully in front of the door, her arms crossed over her chest and a furious expression implanted in her face.

Remus and (Y/N) looked at each other, the same thought running through their minds. They were so screwed.

|||

December 25th.

Dear (Y/N):

I’m sending this letter to wish you a Merry Christmas and a great New Year, even though it’s not the 31st yet, but well… that doesn’t really matter right now.

I remembered you talking about how much you wanted to read more classics, and I couldn’t help myself. Inside the box, you will find Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, and Wuthering Heights, by some other lovely woman named Emily Brontë. I’m not so sure about why you would enjoy them as much as I did, but maybe they’ll inspire you on your journey of becoming a writer. It won’t hurt visiting new worlds to fill your mind with ideas.

Also, and I hope this doesn’t bother you, the books are not brand new. They were read by me and have some marks on the pages, but I don’t like giving new books as gifts. I think that if they were used, they are even more special and hold more value.

Can’t wait to see you once the break is over.

Sincerely, Remus John Lupin.

|||

The grin on her face never abandoned her after reading Remus’s letter and opening the silver paper with golden stars all over it, in which he had wrapped the two books he had mentioned. In fact, it lingered on her for the rest of the day, accompanied with a special and renovated brightness in her eyes.

Before letting the owl return back to its owner, (Y/N) gave her some food and water, and when it was ready, she attached a small box with red paper on the exterior and a green bow at the top. She had also prepared a gift for him, even if it wasn’t that meaningful (at least, that was what she thought). (Y/N) only hoped he would enjoy the chocolate stash, full with different muggle and wizarding ones she had thought he could try, while the owl stepped away from her windowsill.

Around eight p.m, she finally went to bed and despite spending the day interacting with her family, (thing that tired her out pretty quickly), (Y/N) was more awake than ever before. Laying down on her bed with a cup of tea and an old blanket that had once belonged to her sister, covering her legs, she grabbed one of the books Remus gifted her, ready to dwell in Mary Shelley’s world.

#remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #young!remus lupin #young!remus x reader #marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #marauders era #fluff #sirius black #james potter #petter pettigrew #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #slytherin!reader #slytherin #remus lupin x slytherin!reader

148 notes · View notes

melanielocke · 4 years ago

Text

Lost in the Shadows - chapter 11

AO3

Chapter list is getting a bit long, link to all chapters is on my pinned post.

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Cordelia dreamt of a castle in the middle of the forest. She wasn’t sure what was happening, all she knew was she needed to get away, this wasn’t right. There was a woman with empty eyes and long dark hair, something similar to what Thomas had described when he’d seen the washer woman? She was carrying a basket with bloodied clothes and bent over into a stream to wash them. This had to be her, the same woman Thomas had seen.

‘Bearer of cortana,’ she hissed, her voice an awful shriek. ‘Beware the thief of souls.’

Cordelia woke up and when she checked her phone she realized it was noon. Everyone had to be up already, she rarely slept this late. She had gone to bed at eleven yesterday and fallen asleep rather soon, which meant she had slept for thirteen hours. Cordelia wondered why, she rarely slept this long. Yesterday had been a long and exhausting day for sure, but this exhausting? She picked out a simple dress and changed. Dresses were easy in that regard, since it only required her to pick out one item of clothing and she was done, instead of having to match several pieces.

Lucie was eating at the table, and Cordelia wondered if that was her breakfast or lunch. Considering the time, probably lunch.

‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wake up at all, or if you needed a prince to come kiss you awake. Or princess. Royal figure of indetermined gender.’

‘I did have a weird dream,’ Cordelia said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I only just woke up. Which is weird, because I don’t usually sleep for thirteen hours.’

‘You must be very well rested then,’ Lucie said, getting up from her seat to make Cordelia some toast.

Cordelia yawned. ‘Not really. Any news?’

‘You’re the only one who slept late,’ Lucie said. ‘Thomas and Alastair went to take another walk, they’re not back yet. I’ve been theorizing on what Tatiana is doing, or what Grace is and where she came from, but so far I’m not getting any further than her trying to bring back Jesse.��

‘Alastair is an early riser, always has been,’ Cordelia said. ‘Thomas too, apparently.’

Alastair often had nightmares and with his irregular sleeping pattern, Cordelia sometimes wasn’t sure if he slept at all. And he wondered why he was always tired.

‘Uncle Gideon still thinks he might be able to reach his sister, and went into the village again,’ Lucie added. ‘Dad is with him, he doesn’t trust Tatiana but is willing to give it one more chance. So far, they didn’t find her.’

Cordelia didn’t know Tatiana and didn’t want to judge, but if her intention was to bring back her son, she wasn’t sure Gideon would be able to change her mind.

‘Have you ever heard of the thief of souls?’ Cordelia asked.

Lucie frowned. ‘Maybe… It does sound like something out of a book, maybe. Although that could have been thief of hearts too. No, doesn’t ring any bells.’

‘In my dream someone said “Beware the thief of souls”,’ Cordelia said. ‘It could be just an ordinary dream, but I can’t be sure. It might be important.’

Cordelia tried to connect the term with what Lucie had learnt about Jesse Blackthorn. He’d died, and he’d disappeared somewhere, reappearing recently around the same time a washer woman warned Thomas of unpaid debts.

‘What if Jesse didn’t just die?’ Cordelia suggested. ‘What if this thief of souls is called by that title because it takes people’s souls in exchange for whatever someone asks for, and that’s what happened to Jesse.’

‘And then Tatiana made another deal to get him back, and right now he is a ghost,’ Lucie said. ‘Which might explain why the debt is no longer considered paid even if Jesse is still dead.’

‘But if that’s true, then how can we save Thomas?’ Cordelia asked. ‘We’d have to give back Jesse.’

‘Or we defeat the thief of souls,’ Lucie suggested. ‘That way we can save both Jesse and Thomas. No one deserves to be held as a price by such a being.’

‘Can something called the thief of souls even be killed though,’ Cordelia mused. ‘It sounds like a very powerful, perhaps even immortal being.’

‘They say cortana can kill anything, right?’ Lucie said.

‘You’re right, they say it can even kill immortal beings. But I’m not sure even with cortana I would stand a chance against such a thing, there’s also the matter of fighting it. I’m not giving up on either of them and if it comes down to a fight, I will fight. But perhaps we’re overlooking something and there’s another way to save them both.’

Still, if there was a way to kill such a thing, it was cortana. Cordelia would give it her best. She’d always wanted to be a hero, now she would have to prove she had what it took.

‘I don’t like giving up on Jesse’s soul,’ Lucie said. ‘And we definitely can’t let Thomas die.’

‘Either way, I’m going to practice,’ Cordelia said.

She and Alastair had practiced fighting together in childhood, both carrying wooden swords that had been made to match cortana in weight distribution. Since the real sword was so sharp, practicing with it together was too dangerous, but the wooden swords had worked. Alastair had lost interest in his early teens after cortana had chosen Cordelia, only joining her in practice when she begged him to.

She was used to the sword now, to its weight, the way it felt in her hand, and she knew how to fight with it. She’d never actually fought anything though, and according to her father that was the best way to learn. He’d trained her when she was very young. Their training together had become less and less frequent though, and for a long time Cordelia thought it was because he’d gotten sick.

She practiced her movement with the sword, repeating combinations of both attacks and defenses in one fluid motion. Cordelia had never doubted that someday she would fight evil with cortana. It was her destiny after all, and someone had to carry the sword. She’d always wanted to be a hero, like her father once was.

But now everything was coming much closer than she liked. Now Thomas’ life was in danger and Cordelia had no idea how to save him. Now she realized cortana alone might not be enough. Not when she had no idea what to fight, no idea what was coming to claim Thomas’ life. She wasn’t so sure anymore if this life was going to be what she dreamed it would be. She was scared she would end up like her father. Alastair refused to admit it, but Cordelia suspected he shared that fear, even if he had decided he didn’t want to devote his life to the supernatural.

‘That looks good,’ Lucie said. ‘Could you teach me, how to use a weapon?’

Cordelia frowned. ‘I only have cortana, I don’t have any other swords. Alastair does have daggers though. When he comes back, you could ask him to borrow one. Even if you don’t know how to fight with it, you would have a chance to defend yourself.’

Cordelia continued with some more complicated moves, practicing swift dodges followed by attacks. She had to be ready for anything. Lucie returned inside, and emerged a while later with a glass of water.

‘You need anything to drink?’

Cordelia gratefully took the glass of water and drunk it all as fast as she could, spilling a few drops. When training, Cordelia tended to get lost in herself and forget to drink. Lucie had the same problem when she was writing, but had several daily phone alarms telling her to drink.

‘I looked up that boy in the lake to see if they made any progress in the investigation,’ Lucie said. ‘So far it seems like he drowned, but the parents requested an autopsy because they think it’s unlikely since their son is such a good swimmer.’

Cordelia had expected as much. ‘At least now the parents have some closure. Poor child.’

‘I can’t imagine,’ Lucie said. ‘And the story of being trapped, it’s so similar to what Jesse said. Although the boy didn’t mention seeing any monsters or being stalked by something.’

‘There are vague stories of people getting trapped in places in the wild, but I’ve never seen anything that proves it’s real,’ Cordelia said. ‘Nothing like you described, at least not in the stories I remember from my father.’

‘I imagine most people don’t live to tell the tale,’ Lucie said.

‘I know, but… My father might have survived such a thing, and I don’t think I ever heard about it from him.’

Cordelia suspected that with the many years her father had travelled the world to slay evil creatures, he had told her and Alastair the most exciting stories and there were a few she might not have heard. Though she imagined something trapping people would be considered exciting. Perhaps her father did know more, but Cordelia was terrified to contact him, and she didn’t want to ask anyone else to either.

She still felt betrayed by him. She could sympathize with an addiction, it was an illness and she couldn’t blame him for seeking something that eased his pain. She knew her father had seen things most only saw in horror movies, she understood why he might want to forget. But he’d lied to her about it. She knew why Alastair had wanted to protect her, she didn’t blame him for not telling her the truth. Her father though? He’d gladly gone along with Alastair’s attempts to keep her in the dark, pretending to be overcome with sickness when he was drunk. Pretending the scent of alcohol was really medication for his illness. He’d often asked for her when he was sick, and she’d gone to read him stories, to keep him company while he rested. She hadn’t understood at the time, why Alastair didn’t like her taking care of him, why he’d insisted Father was sick and needed sleep even when her father kept asking for her.

As a dutiful daughter, she’d always gone when her father asked for her. She’d read him stories, kept him company, believing he was sick and not drunk. She had given up other obligations for him. She’d missed school parties she’d been excited about, because she couldn’t bear to leave her sick father after he’d asked her to stay.

Only now did she realize that as a father, he should have encouraged her to go anyway and have fun. That taking care of her father was not her responsibility and he should not have expected her to give up so much for him. Alastair had always tried to convince her that it was fine, that he could take care of Father too and he didn’t need her there. A couple of times he had managed to convince her, Alastair insisting she would regret it for a long time if she missed Lucie’s birthday party. She was still grateful that Alastair had practically dragged her away that day. No one else had shown up for Lucie, all the other children she’d invited thought she was weird and at that age Lucie had been desperate to be liked by her peers. Cordelia had almost abandoned Lucie too.

Now she understood why father had always asked for her, and not Alastair or her mother. She’d always believed it was because she was more like her father, because she was more affectionate whereas Alastair and her mother were rather closed off. Now she understood her father had preferred her because she was the only one who didn’t know he was drunk, because she would be kind and feel sorry for his sickness whereas Alastair resented him for being too drunk to be take care of his children. No, even if he knew the most about the supernatural from all his travels, Cordelia was not ready to call him to ask and she would never ask Alastair to do such a thing. No matter how betrayed she felt, what he’d been through was worse and he should never have to speak to their father again.

‘You alright, Daisy?’ Lucie asked.

‘Just thinking,’ she said. ‘Maybe my father does know more, but I can’t… I really can’t ask him.’

Lucie nodded. ‘I understand. If you really think he knows more, perhaps dad can call him instead to ask. And perhaps uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily know more as well.’

Cordelia figured she could ask, but she feared her father would make it difficult for them. She’d learnt just how manipulative he could be, and she could easily imagine him refusing to talk to Will unless he’d let him talk to her.

Cordelia decided to practice a little longer, it had been a while with everything that had happened lately, and there wasn’t much space or opportunity at her aunt Risa’s apartment. She couldn’t be unprepared.

Lucie sat down to watch, book in hand, but Cordelia didn’t think she was making any progress reading. Instead, Cordelia caught her staring at her movement. Perhaps Lucie was studying her movements, in an attempt to learn more about fighting herself. Ultimately, it all came down to practice though. You didn’t learn how to fight by watching other people do it.

‘Aren’t Alastair and Thomas taking a little long?’ Lucie wondered. ‘They left early in the morning.’

‘I figured they’d be at the cottage with Sophie,’ Cordelia said. ‘They’re not?’

‘Mom is there with aunt Sophie,’ Lucie said. ‘She just texted me, we could come over for some tea as well. She mentions all four of us, apparently aunt Sophie would like it if Thomas came back for tea as well. So mom must have assumed they returned here after she left.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘What time is it?’

‘Four in the afternoon,’ Lucie said. ‘Dad also texted that he and uncle Gideon couldn’t find Tatiana and are coming back. But I haven’t heard anything from Alastair and Thomas. I’m not sure about Alastair, but it’s not like Thomas to disappear for so long and not let anyone know.’

Alastair could lose track of time on his long walks, but this was extreme even for his standards, and he would have at least texted her by now if he’d changed plans.

‘That is one long walk’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ll call Alastair.’

She turned cortana back into her necklace and took her phone out of her pocket, calling her brother. He didn’t answer, which was unlike him. She tried again. Nothing. She texted him instead, asking him if he was alright and when to expect him back. Alastair didn’t receive the message, maybe his phone had died. He rarely forgot to charge it though.

‘He’s not answering,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ll try Thomas.’

Thomas didn’t pick up either, after several tries, and when Cordelia texted him he didn’t receive anything either.

‘Nothing either.’

‘Perhaps they don’t have cell service,’ Lucie said. ‘If you go far enough into the woods, that would happen.’

Cordelia guessed Lucie had a point, but that didn’t explain why they were spending almost a whole day into the woods. They weren’t experienced hikers, they must get tired at some point, right? And they would have at least let someone know if they would be gone for so long, this was worrying even for Alastair.

‘Maybe we should go looking for them.’

‘They could be making out though, maybe they don’t want to be interrupted,’ Lucie suggested.

Cordelia frowned. ‘In the middle of the woods?’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Who am I to judge?’

‘They’ve been gone for long enough that I think we should go looking,’ Cordelia said. ‘They could be in trouble.’

She put on some different shoes that were better suited for the forest and texted Will they were going to look for Alastair and Thomas, warning them to come find them if they took too long.

‘Do you really think they could be in trouble?’ Lucie asked when they walked into the forest, nervous.

Cordelia understood Lucie was scared, but if she was then how had she run after Tatiana into the woods just yesterday evening? If anything, her friend was chaotic.

The forest was a bit darker than she was used to in the bright sun, which was odd. The fog was a little thicker than usual, and Cordelia made sure to stay close to Lucie.

‘I don’t know,’ Cordelia said. ‘But only one way to be sure.’

A howl pierced the air. Cordelia could only tell the general direction it was coming from. It didn’t quite sound like a wolf, but it was similar enough.

‘Stay behind me,’ Cordelia said, removing her necklace and taking cortana into her hand. ‘I don’t know what that is, but I’m not going to let it harm my brother.’

#Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomas Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #Lucelia #Thomastair #Fanfiction #fic #the last hours #tlh

17 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 4 years ago

Text

The Earl (8/13)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, you may do so here.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When finally her hands were unbound, Scully immediately reached up and removed the blindfold that had been pulled crudely over her head by Spender following the incident with the constable. The door to the room she found herself in closed hurriedly behind the person who had untied her, and she threw herself at it, finding the door solidly locked.

The room was small but well-appointed, with a decently sized bed against one wall, a dresser, wardrobe, and a small stand with a wash basin and screen on the far corner behind which she found an empty chamber pot, which she kicked over in frustration.

She was tired of being frightened, and sick of being intimidated by her situation. She was a smart young woman, and a decently educated one at that. If her station didn’t help her, as it had most of her life, she would help herself.

Through the window of the room, she could see the sea -- shining and vast. She was on the second floor of the building, and when she leaned out of it, could see several other windows to her left and right. It seemed she was in the middle of a non-middling-sized home, which was surrounded by a tall wrought-iron fence. And not far beyond that, the sea. There was nothing that she could use to climb down from the window, which was disappointing. And the drop, such as it was, was a fairly long one, with sharp-looking gravel edging the house. Should she survive the fall without injuring herself (unlikely), she would have to deal with the fence.

She closed the window, sat on the bed, and waited. She would get back to Mulder. But how?

XxXxXxXxXxX

“So according to this,” Frohike held up the aged envelope with the large X, “you have an illegitimate sister.”

“Half-sister, yes,” said the Earl, “and I have been looking for her since I found that letter two years ago in my father’s personal effects after his death.”

“And the ‘X’ on the envelope,” Frohike went on, “bears a striking resemblance to that of this ransom note.”

“Indeed,” Mulder said, looking at each man in turn. “CGB Spender,” he said with finality.

Byers cocked his head in question.

“You asked if I had any enemies. Up until several months ago, I would have said no.”

Mulder went on to tell them of Spender’s insistence that Mulder’s father had owed a debt to Spender and his efforts to collect, though Mulder had never been able to find any evidence of it, and wrote it off as the game of an unscrupulous fortune hunter. He told them of Spender’s offer of marriage to his daughter, and how the man had become incensed when he learned of Mulder’s marriage to Scully; how he’d practically threatened her in Mulder’s own study.

“The ransom note, that letter -- they had to have both come from Spender. The debt he insisted my father owed him -- it must be related to this girl, this Samantha. My sister.”

“And you never made the connection before?” Langly asked.

“I had no reason to,” Mulder explained, “I had found that letter years before I’d ever heard from Mr. Spender, and the letter itself doesn’t demand any recompense. It is merely an accusation.”

The letter was an accusation, nothing more. A veiled threat.

“So why wouldn’t he have mentioned it? Her? Your sister. When he came to collect the debt.”

“The scandal of an illegitimate child would have affected my father far more than it would affect me. By playing it close to his vest, perhaps Spender thought he still had advantage over me -- perhaps thinking there were other skeletons in my closet he could exploit to get the money he’s after. And by God, he does have advantage over me,” Mulder finished a little desperately, raking his hand through his hair and gesturing at the ransom note.

Byers nodded solemnly.

“What do you know of the man?” Frohike asked.

“Not much,” Mulder lamented, “I have reached out to an old friend, a former Captain in His Majesty’s army. He works on Bow Street. I asked him to investigate the gentleman after he threatened my wife. I got a letter from him only yesterday. All he has found so far is that ‘CGB Spender’ is merely one of many aliases used by this… cancer of a man.”

“And have you managed to find evidence of this child, Samantha?” Langly asked, “Perhaps she could lead us to this ‘Spender.’”

“None,” Mulder said bleakly.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully awoke to the sound of a key in the lock. She had undressed before bed, pulling off her soiled riding habit and, having nothing else to do with it, laid it over the chair in the corner of the room. She still wore her shift, and pulled the covers of the bed tightly up to her neck as whoever was at the door fiddled with the knob before finally swinging it open.

“My lady?” she heard the voice of the groom, Duane Barry, “Are you decent, my lady?”

Scully was obviously quite cross with the man. In her mind, he was every bit as responsible for her abduction as the tobacco smoking bastard who called himself Spender.

“As decent as I can be in this situation,” she said crossly.

Barry haltingly stuck his head into the doorway, his darting eyes assessing the room before reluctantly entering it, carrying a small tray before him atop which sat a plate of fried eggs and a rasher of bacon. Though she was determined to refuse whatever was offered her in an effort to convey her displeasure, her stomach growled of its own accord.

“Will you take this in bed, my lady?” the man asked, his eyes darting everywhere in the room but where she sat.

“You may put it on the table,” she said, rather harshly.

He set it down and lingered, still very obviously averting his eyes from her person. Eventually he said:

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

She heaved an irritated sigh. He seemed a simpleton, though she suspected he was not -- just a man dealt a difficult hand of cards in his life without the means or the compunction to do anything about it.

“Clothing,” she said.

“My lady?”

She pulled the bed covers down enough to point to her soiled and torn riding frock on the chair in the corner of the room.

“I require clothing, Mr. Barry. My frock was dirtied and torn during my kidnapping. I have nothing else to wear.” She gestured to herself in the bed.

The man turned beet red and nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I mean my lady. I will get you what I can, my lady,” seeming to be spurred on by a task he might accomplish, he hastened to leave the room.

Scully took a deep, bracing breath, hearing her mother’s voice in her head: there’s never any reason to treat the servants with anything other than genteel decorum, Dana. None of us choose our lot in life -- we are assigned it by God. Not only did her mother have a point, but she was not in a situation where offending her captor would produce a good outcome. She needed a friend. You catch more flies with honey. She could and would save her enmity for Spender, the man who truly deserved it.

“And tea, Mr. Barry,” she said, regaining some of her composure. “I… I would quite like a cup of tea.”

He paused in the doorway and for the first time met her eyes with his own.

“Yes, my lady,” he said with a halting smile, “I can do that, my lady.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

A note arrived at Ashford Park the next day with brief instructions telling the Earl that a further directive would be given in the village chapel the following day at 3:00 in the afternoon.

Byers had cancelled the remainder of the holiday, and the guests -- somber and avoiding Mulder’s eye -- were departing, each withdrawal leaving the manse just a little more quiet and lonely.

The business associates of Byers were the only ones left by the end of the day -- they had taken Scully’s abduction as a personal affront, and the three men vowed not to rest until they had restored the Countess to the Earl’s side. In fact, the three men planned to head into the village hours early the next day, with plans to keep watch on the village church, hoping to get an idea of where this ‘intermediary’ as Spender had put it, was coming from or going to.

Mulder spent a restless night in a bed that still smelled like his wife, succumbing to exhaustion, though each moment of slumber was wracked with nightmares and dreams, each one more disturbing than the one before it.

When at last he dragged himself out of bed at first light, he was met by Mr. Valadeo, who softened his often stern demeanor and inquired about how the Earl was doing.

“Not well, Danny,” Mulder said morosely.

“That is plain, my lord,” he said kindly, gesturing to the three days worth of stubble that rasped on Mulder’s chin when he absently stroked it. “Could you tolerate a shave?” Danny went on to ask, “you’ll want to look your finest when the Countess is returned.”

Mulder huffed a wan smile and nodded, letting his valet take over, who led him to the chair by the dressing table without a word. Scully’s things were still sitting on the top of it, her tortoiseshell hairbrush with errant strands of red sticking out amongst the bristles.

“There is much talk below stairs,” Danny said, after what seemed like hours of silence. “Everyone is quite concerned.” He rubbed shaving soap purposefully onto Mulder’s face, then sharpened his blade. The same thing he did nearly every day.

“I’m concerned for the Countess myself,” Mulder said, trying not to think of what could be happening to Scully even now, “excessively.”

“Well, yes,” Danny went on, dipping the razor blade into water and then scraping the blade down Mulder’s cheek. “Of course we are all worried for Lady Dana. Poor Prudence is beside herself with worry. But,” he said, rinsing the blade in the small dish of water, “we are just as concerned for you, my lord.” His actions were careful and deliberate, which eased Mulder into a rare calm normalcy he hadn’t felt for days.

“For me?"

"You have not been married long," Danny went on, scraping the blade down his master's neck slowly, taking thoughtful care with his task, "and there was no courtship to speak of..."

Mulder would not normally countenance this kind of talk from his servants, but Danny was allowed more leeway than many. Mulder considered the man a friend.

"But it is clear to everyone that there is love between you and the Countess. Deep-seated, unshakable love. Love is not afforded to many in this world. Particularly one as powerful as that which exists between the two of you. Rare or lucky are those who find it, sir. We are, all of us, praying for her swift and safe return. For both your sakes.”

Danny had not taken his eyes off the contours of Mulder’s face, continuing to gently and carefully groom him. Mulder felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, touched beyond measure. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Danny.”

Valadeo wiped the errant foam from Mulder’s face, his duty done, and straightened, sniffing in a very English way.

“Sir,” he said. “I shall help you dress.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Barry came back an hour later with several ill-fitting, dowdy frocks, but at least they were clean and well mended. He came back ten minutes after that -- once Scully was finally dressed and out of bed -- with a hot cup of tea.

He looked in her eyes for only the second time. “Would… would you like milk or sugar?” he asked.

“Sugar,” she said after a moment and gave him a small smile, which he hesitantly returned.

He came back only moments later with several cubes of sugar on a small china plate. He handed it to her deferentially.

Just as he was leaving (and had pulled out the key to lock the door), she called out to him.

“Mr. Barry,” she said. He paused in the doorway and looked up. “Are there any staff in the house? Any maid I might pass along my garments to, to be laundered? Perhaps mended?”

He swallowed and looked to the ground.

“They have been temporarily dismissed, my lady. At the moment, it is only you and I.”

So Spender wasn’t on the property, then. He must be close by, though. A thought struck her. Perhaps there was a way to get out of this locked room. If only to see the lay of the land and get a better idea of her circumstances.

“And do you… intend to launder my unmentionables?”

The man once again turned an impressive shade of red.

“I only ask, as these clothes -- kind that you were to bring to me -- do not fit well. I would very much like the chance to launder and mend what I wear to… save you the embarrassment of having to do it for me.” She took a breath and took a chance. “I am due to begin my courses, you see,” she said, and the man turned almost white, “and that will require… specialized cleaning. I’m happy to mend the clothes in my room, but laundering is a messy business, as you know,” (she had never actually done it) “and if you would permit me, I’d prefer to do it… out of doors.”

“Uh,” he fumbled for a response, “uh…”

“No need to answer me now, Mr. Barry,” she said, “we still have a day or two. I thank you for the excellent breakfast. The eggs were delicious.”

With that she smiled at him kindly, and he closed the door behind him, though he was slow to turn the key.

#The X-Files #Fanfic #MSR #AU #Regency #The Countess #The Earl #Sequel #My Fic

30 notes · View notes

besanii · 5 years ago

Text

shattered mirrors 54

Wangxian ; 1586 words

“You know, I didn’t think banquets in Gusu could get this lively,” Wei Wuxian comments, pouring himself another cup of wine. “All the ones I’ve attended before have been quite…well, quiet.”

He throws back the contents up his newly-refilled cup in one swallow and sighs gustily. The Gusu Lan Imperial Court may be stuffier than Yunmeng, but they sure knew how to make wine—Emperor’s Smile may be the finest he’s ever tasted, and he’s always tried to make a study of wine tasting on top of his other cultural pursuits. If Jiang Cheng were here, he’d scoff at this claim and insist that Yunmeng’s lotus wine is better, but Wei Wuxian knows there is nothing quite like the soft sweetness of Emperor’s Smile.

Beside him, Nie Huaisang nods in agreement as he sets his own cup on the table.

“It’s only ever like this when they’re entertaining important guests from other states,” he says sagely. “You know…diplomats, royalty—important people.”

Wei Wuxian bristles.

“Aren’t I considered a foreign diplomat?” he asks, affronted. “I don’t recall there being a banquet like this for me!”

“You, Wei-xiong?” Nie Huaisang laughs. “You’re more like a foreign student than a diplomat. You don’t attend court, or participate in state affairs, or have any influence over the politics between Yunmeng and Gusu. Of course they wouldn’t look twice at you!”

“I take offence to that statement, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian says with mock anger and a waggling finger. “I have a lot of sway in Yunmeng!”

He punctuates this with a jovial laugh and washes it down with another cup of wine. His eyes stray towards the head table at the highest level of the dais that sits conspicuously empty, the unoccupied throne more of a figurehead than anything else now, with the Emperor in seclusion due to poor health. One level below, Lan Wangji sits at a table of his own, with his uncle beside him and his brother and sister-in-law across the aisle. He does not touch the wine, and barely spares a second glance at the revelry below, until a young woman dressed in pale yellow robes and bearing a vermilion mark between her brows approaches his table.

“Who’s that?” Wei Wuxian whispers to Nie Huaisang, immediately wary.

“Jin-wang’s eldest daughter,” Nie Huaisang whisper back, holding his fan up to obscure his mouth. “Jin Yantong.”

It takes him a moment to place the name. His eyes widen.

“Isn’t she the one who he sent as a marriage candidate for Taizi-dianxia a couple of years ago?” His brow furrows in confusion. “What’s she doing back here?”

Nie Huaisang taps his fan against his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, since she didn’t become Taizi-fei, I guess she’s here to try for the next best thing,” he says. The look he sends Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eye is weighted with meaning. “Or, at least, her father is.”

“Can you even do that?” he asks with a shaky laugh, hiding his discomfort behind his wine cup. “Put forward the same candidate for two princes?”

“There’s no law that expressly forbids it,” Nie Huaisang replies, shrugging. “Though I suppose the bigger issue is whether the young maiden in question would willingly submit herself to the potential for ridicule.”

Wei Wuxian hums, although he’s not sure if it’s out of sympathy or something else. He would not put it past Jin Guangshan to put forth his daughter as a candidate repeatedly until she is finally selected as consort; even if Jin Yantong does not succeed, Jin Guangshan has children to spare—he could very well keep putting forth all of his eligible children until one of them helps him get a foothold in Gusu. Three years ago, Lan Xichen had selected Nie Qiongyue as his primary consort and refused to take a concubine; now that Lan Wangji is of marriageable age, Jin Guangshan undoubtedly has him in mind for his daughter.

His stomach clenches as he watches Lan Wangji rise to greet her with a polite bow; she returns the greeting with a dip of the knee, bowing her head gracefully, her hands clasped by her hip. She offers him a sweet smile as she rises, her mouth forming words Wei Wuxian cannot make out from the angle at which he’s observing them. What he does see, however, is the slight softening of Lan Wangji’s mouth as he listens to her, and the softness in his eyes as he responds.

He slams the cup down on the table with more force than necessary, startling Nie Huaisang. Across the hall, Lan Wangji is also watching him with concern, although he makes no move to leave his seat.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, averting his eyes.

Jin Yantong is truly a beautiful young woman, he thinks. Intelligent, accomplished, well-connected. And capable of bearing sons. He coughs as the wine slides down the wrong way, tears springing to his eyes; a few of the surrounding courtiers glance his way with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, but he is too preoccupied getting his breathing under control to pay them any mind.

Where had that thought come from?

He clears his throat a few more times and pounds on his chest with a fist in an attempt to alleviate the burning pain.

“Wei Ying.”

A hand under his elbow brings him out of his thoughts and he looks up to find Lan Wangji kneeling by his side, looking concerned.

“L-Lan Z—” he clears his throat again, embarrassed. “Er-dianxia.”

The corner of Lan Wangji’s eye twitches at the title, but he does not mention it. Instead, he moves his hand from beneath Wei Wuxian’s elbow to his shoulder, his other hand taking a cup from the tray being offered by an attendant, pressing it into Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Drink,” he tells him. “Slowly.”

Wei Wuxian looks down at the tea, tendrils of steam curling up from its hot surface, his face flushed. All around them, people are starting to notice—Nie Huaisang has returned to his seat, his eyes lowered respectfully, only chancing the occasional glance in their direction—even the occupants of the dais are watching them, although their faces betray no outward emotion. He sees Jin Yantong across the hall where Lan Wangji had left her, watching them both with an inscrutable expression in her dark eyes, and a stiff set to her pretty lips.

Lan Wangji’s attention is fixed on him.

Wei Wuxian’s heart does a strange little flip.

“Thank you, Er-dianxia, for your concern,” he says with an embarrassed laugh. “I must have had too much to drink. I apologise for causing trouble.”

He goes to set the cup down onto the table, but his wrist is caught in a tight grip as Lan Wangji presses it towards him more insistently.

“Wei Ying,” he says again. “Drink.”

He can really find a reason to refuse, so he obediently raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip. The spiciness of the tea takes him by surprise—how had Lan Wangji known to prepare sobering tea?—he takes another, longer sip, savouring the pleasantly sweet aftertaste. The grip around his wrist loosens and falls away once Lan Wangji is satisfied he is following instructions; when the cup is finally empty, he takes it from him and hands it back to the attendant without a word.

Wei Wuxian sits up, his head already feeling clearer as the tea takes effect, and offers Lan Wangji a sheepish smile.

“Thank you, Er-dianxia,” he says again. “I apologise for causing trouble. I will excuse myself to clear my head.”

Lan Wangji rises to his feet—both Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang immediately follow suit as per protocol—and shakes out his sleeves.

“Wei-gongzi should not feel the need to apologise,” he says, letting his voice carry around the hall and to the ears of their spectators. “No harm was done. If you wish for fresh air, allow me to accompany you outside.”

He raises his arm in a sweeping gesture towards the doorway with an expectant look in his direction. Wei Wuxian hesitates, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes on them, before he sinks into a bow with his hands clasped before him.

“Please do not let me take you away from the festivities, Er-dianxia,” he says, with all the formality of a courtier to his prince. “I am already much recovered and will be fine on my own. There is no need to worry Er-dianxia.”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth as if to protest, but a soft cough interrupts him before he can speak. Nie Huaisang catches his eye and tilts his head pointedly towards the dais, where Lan Qiren looks on disapprovingly.

Lan Wangji sighs heavily through his nose.

“Very well,” he says, sounding none too pleased to be saying so. “Take care, Wei-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian bows again at the dismissal and hurries from the hall without a backward glance. Once he is far enough from the entrance and certain he is not being followed, he allows his shoulders to slump. His heart is racing, the heat still high on his cheeks despite the sobering tea—and the expression on Lan Wangji’s face looking down at Jin Yantong is still vivid in his mind, causing his stomach to twist uncomfortably.

He looks down at his wrist, where Lan Wangji had held him.

Oh, he thinks faintly. I see.

Notes:

Taizi-fei (太子妃) - Consort to the Crown Prince

Jin Guangshan is king/lord/wang (王) of the state of Lanling Jin, and Jin Yantong (金燕彤) is his eldest daughter by a concubine. And yes, Jin Zixuan does exist.

Set early on in the Wei Ying arc, just after LWJ’s birthday ficlet (#33).

Master Post and ko-fi link on my sidebar!

#mdzs #wangxian #my writing #shattered mirrors fic #lan wangji #wei wuxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #no knives #courtesan!wwx #prince!lwj

214 notes · View notes

lastbluetardis · 4 years ago

Text

And Baby Makes Seven (10/?)

Things don’t always go as planned. Faced with an unexpected pregnancy, James and Rose have to work quickly to get everything prepared for their fifth child, and to prepare their eldest children for a new addition to the family. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: teen, 5200 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 7.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

AO3 | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Now that Ainsley had been let in on the secret of the new baby, Rose and James didn’t need to work as hard to uphold the facade. Sianin, bless her little heart, had no idea what was going on, but was glad that her mum wanted to laze around the house, which translated into Sianin getting plenty of snuggles on the sofa as they watched cartoons.

James seemed to be taking “over-protective” to a whole new level. He jumped at the chance to care for their children, either taking over or joining Rose in all bedtime routines. If a twin awoke in the middle of the night, he sprang out of bed before her groggy brain could even realize Hannah or Maddie had made a sound.

But when she brought it up to him, he flashed her a charming grin that never failed to melt her, and simply asked, “You’re upset that I want to care for my children?”

And really, when he put it like that, her irritation with him evaporated. She had to keep reminding him to let her help, though, lest the twins forget they had a mother.

James and Rose also used the opportunity to place more responsibilities on Sianin’s shoulders, to the girl’s displeasure. Since Rose wasn’t supposed to do most of the normal household chores, James taught Sianin how to vacuum, wash the floors, and a host of other minor but daily tasks.

Rose, though guilty that she was lounging around the house all day when she ought to be cleaning, was glad that Sianin was at least performing the tasks James assigned to her with minimal complaining.

Ainsley, meanwhile, took it upon herself to help her dad with anything he was doing and to check in with her mum to see if Rose needed anything.

“How long d’you have to rest for?” Ainsley asked as she settled in with Rose and Maddie on the couch for her nightly reading. Hannah was already in her crib for the night, but Maddie was stubbornly refusing to fall asleep in favor of getting snuggles and kisses from her mother.

“A few weeks,” Rose replied, blotting at the drool dripping down her baby’s chin with her jumper sleeve. Maddie scrunched her nose and turned her face away. “We’ve got a follow-up appointment next week to check the status of the bleed.”

Ainsley tilted her head to the side. “Why do you always do that? Make it plural? You said we’ve got an appointment, not I’ve got an appointment.”

Rose snorted. “You’re right. But your dad is joining me at the appointment. Plus, it’s an appointment to check on the baby, who is both his and mine. It feels wrong to claim sole ownership.”

“That’s actually really cute,” Ainsley admitted. She sighed dreamily. “Dad takes such good care of you when you’re unwell.”

A flood of adoration overtook Rose, squeezing her chest until inexplicable tears burned her eyes. She listened to her husband, who was in the kitchen assembling the girls’ lunches for tomorrow. He was humming to himself as he worked, the notes slightly flat and offkey.

“Yeah, he does,” Rose croaked.

“I hope I find someone just like him one day,” Ainsley said with a wistful sigh.

“I hope that for you, too.” Rose kissed Ainsley’s temple. “I hope that for all of my children.”

“How do you think it’ll work with Sianin and her soulmates?”

“What do you mean?”

Ainsley shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine having two soulmates. How can she love two people as equally and intensely as you love Dad?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? Who knows whether Sianin’s relationship with Elena and Juliette will evolve into a romantic one.”

“I suppose,” Ainsley allowed. “But for argument’s sake, how would it work if they decided to let it be romantic? It seems so strange to be involved in a relationship with two people.”

“Strange as it might be to you, it’s normal for others. Love in all its forms is a beautiful thing, remember that.”

“It feels like it would be hard to make sure you aren’t showing favoritism to one versus another,” Ainsley said.

“Well, your dad and I have four children—we love you all with equal intensity and try not to show favoritism. I imagine it’s something similar.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I would want to be in a relationship with more than one person,” Ainsley admitted. “I want one person who is mine, and mine alone.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Rose said. “You need to decide what works for you, just as Sianin will decide what works for her.”

Ainsley was quiet for several long seconds, but Rose could practically hear her daughter’s mind churning. While she let Ainsley think, she used the time to give kisses to the baby in her arms. The baby was finally getting drowsy; she had her cheek planted above Rose’s left breast, and her head rose and fell with her mother’s breaths. Any time Maddie’s eyes began to droop shut, she wrenched them open and gazed up at her mother.

Being the singular focus of her baby’s attention always made her heart squeeze with love and gratitude. She was the whole world to this tiny, perfect little human, and for a moment, as Rose got lost in her baby’s blue eyes, Maddie was her whole world, too.

“Do you think her eyes will stay blue?” Ainsley asked.

“I think so,” Rose said. “Usually if they change, they would’ve changed by now. All of my babies’ eyes started out blue. In Sianin’s case, they turned brown after a couple months. Yours stayed more or less the same color. And the twins’ appear to be brightening… they kind of look like Gran’s, don’t they?”

Ainsley peered down at Maddie. The baby shifted her sleepy eyes to her big sister, and offered a smile that widened into a yawn. Ainsley snorted and rubbed Maddie’s back. The baby grunted and wiggled around before face-planting into the crevice between Rose’s breasts.

“Silly girl,” Ainsley murmured. “Yeah, they do look like Gran’s. How does that work? I mean, I sort of know how it works. But her DNA is half you, half Dad, and yet she has Gran’s eyes. And apparently I look like Dad’s mum.”

“My DNA is half my mum and dad, and your dad’s DNA is half his mum and dad,” Rose said. “There are bits of all of our past family swirling inside of us, and it’s a lottery draw as to which traits get passed on to a baby.”

“That’s kind of neat,” Ainsley said. “It’s so fascinating that so many things have to happen perfectly to create a baby.” She paused, then continued in a rush, “We had the talk at school today. Y’know, how the girls and boys should be starting puberty soon, if they haven’t started already. One girl in my class had her first period months ago, which is mad. She’s nine! They also explained how in a couple years we’ll all be sexually mature and be able to make babies and so we all have to be very, very careful to prevent unwanted pregnancies as we’re exploring our bodies.

“They went over how a baby is made. Just the basics. Y’know, penis in vagina, sperm meets egg equals baby. I didn’t know that men released millions and millions of sperm when they had sex. That seems like overkill, doesn’t it?”

“What seems like overkill?”

Rose jumped at the sound of James’s voice right behind her. Her mind whirred, trying to wrap itself around the sudden turn their conversation had taken, as well as the fact that her baby was old enough to be learning the basics of human reproduction in school already.

“Did you know you made and released millions of sperm at a time when you have sex?” Ainsley asked, her eyes bright.

James was silent for a beat, cheeks pinkening and mouth going slack. He cleared his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah, I did know that. But where did you learn that?”

“They gave us the talk in school.”

“Ah,” he said, wincing.

“Why do you make millions of sperm when only one will actually fertilize the egg?” Ainsley asked, cocking her head to the side. She then glanced down at Maddie, who was drooling into Rose’s shirt. “Er, or I guess two?”

“Actually, it was just one sperm,” Rose corrected.

Ainsley frowned. “But… there are two babies.”

“But they’re identical,” James said. “Genetically, they’re the same. Basically, one of my sperm met your mum’s egg, then that egg divided somewhat incorrectly to begin producing two separate babies with the same exact genetic code.”

“Oh. So your egg accidentally made a clone of itself?”

Rose snorted. “Something like that.”

Ainsley looked impressed. Then she said, “But still. Why make millions of sperm? That’s a bit wasteful, isn’t it?”

“It’s all about statistics,” James answered, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Would you rather try to hit a target with one arrow or many? What if that one arrow is defective somehow? Or your aim is slightly off? By releasing tens of millions of sperm in one go, you increase the odds of fertilization; and the egg can be a bit choosier by only allowing the strongest of the bunch to fertilize it and begin making a baby.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Ainsley said. “What stops all of the sperm from penetrating the egg and creating a million babies?”

“Once a sperm meets the egg, it basically walls itself off from getting fertilized again,” James explained. “When sperm meets egg, a biological cascade effect begins. The woman’s egg recognizes it’s been fertilized, so it begins producing chemicals and hormones that tell the rest of the body to prepare for the oncoming baby. And it shuts down egg production so there’s no chance of multiple fertilized eggs trying to grow a baby after one is already growing. Imagine how cramped it would get in there. And imagine how hard it would be on the woman to have multiple babies all at different stages of development in her uterus. Evolution has figured out how to control everything so that doesn’t happen.”

“That’s so cool,” Ainsley said.

“It is a bit cool,” James said, smiling.

“It’s weird that women are born with all the eggs they’ll ever have, but men keep making more and more sperm ‘til they die. That’s way more efficient. What if something happens to the woman and her egg supply is damaged? At least with men, they can regenerate their sperm.” Ainsley cocked her head at her father. “In theory, you could help make a baby when you’re a hundred, right?”

James choked. “I… well… yes, technically. But my baby-making partner would also be a hundred—well, ninety-five—and since she would no longer be fertile, I wouldn’t be helping to make any more babies. Besides, the… ehm… the quality of sperm deteriorates over time. It’s not usually a good idea to procreate after a certain age. And, ehm… the act of making a baby gets… ehm… more difficult in old age. So… ehm… I’m not sure we’d… that we’d… Although I would truly love to be with your mother in that way in our old age, statistically it’s not all that probable so I’m not really expecting to… not that I wouldn’t want to… but…”

Rose kneaded the heel of her hand into her eyes as James’s gob ran without stop and without filter. She eventually reached over and pinched him. He squeaked, but snapped his mouth shut. Ainsley, meanwhile, was in stitches on the sofa, cackling madly as both her parents’ cheeks blazed.

oOoOo

Two weeks and two days after learning she had subchorionic hemorrhage, Rose walked into her OB-GYN, this time with her husband at her side. Despite the fact that her bleeding and cramping had stopped nearly a week ago, she was a little nervous to see what Elizabeth would have to say.

James must have sensed her anxiety, because he threaded their fingers together and rubbed at the back of her thumb while they waited for Rose’s name to be called. He talked to her about nothing in particular, filling the silence between them. Rose let the soothing rhythm of his voice calm her until Elizabeth appeared in the waiting room and called name, gesturing for her to follow.

“How are you feeling?” the midwife asked as she took Rose’s height and weight. “You’ve lost some weight since I saw you two weeks ago. Nothing worrying, but something to keep an eye on. Especially since you ought to be putting on weight as your pregnancy progresses.”

“My appetite is still finicky,” Rose admitted. “Nausea is mostly gone though. I’m hoping that will help. But otherwise, I feel fine.”

“Any bleeding? Cramping? Dizziness?”

Rose shook her head and stepped off the scale, following Elizabeth down the corridor to an exam room. James followed silently and settled into the chair beside the exam table. An ultrasound machine already sat in the corner of the room, and, familiar with the routine, Rose reclined on the table and exposed her belly.

Déjà vu settled over her as she remembered the utter terror of two weeks ago, certain her midwife was about to confirm her worst fear. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she began to tremble as her mind warred with itself, half of it trying to calm her, and the other half spinning out of control. James scooted his chair closer to her and leaned his elbow onto the table above her head. His warmth and scent surrounded her.

“You’re okay, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“What a cute little bump,” Elizabeth cooed, squirting cool gel onto said bump between Rose’s hips. “Let’s see the cute little baby inside it, eh?”

Rose reached over and grabbed James’s free hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. He bent down to kiss her forehead again, then he brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles one at a time.

“Here we are,” Elizabeth said, tapping a few buttons into her keyboard.

Rose looked at the monitor and her heart clenched at the sight of her baby. They seemed to be about the same size as before, but Elizabeth was pleased with the baby’s appearance.

“They’re rather active,” the midwife noted, readjusting the probe when the shifting baby went out of focus. “Are you able to feel them, Rose?”

“Not yet,” she croaked. She desperately wanted to, though. She wanted that little flutter of life between her hips. She wanted the undeniable proof that her baby was alive and healthy and growing, because what if the scan was somehow wrong? Rose squeezed her eyes shut and focused deep within herself, trying to sense any ripple of movement in her uterus.

Her eyes shot open when the midwife tapped a few buttons and the heartbeat echoed around the room.

James let out a soft, “Oh,” his grip on her hand turning vice-like.

Rose glanced up at her husband, but his gaze was locked on the monitor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. The sight of them made her own eyes prickle. She would never tire of seeing the awe on his face as he beheld their children. He treated each day with their kids as though it was the most precious gift he’d been given; this baby was no exception, and Rose could already see how in love her husband was with the tiny fetus inside her. She could plainly see him, seven months from now, weeping as he held their newborn for the first time, curling his body around theirs as though he could physically shield their baby from any harm the world might bring to them. She could see him sitting with the baby in the dead of night, half asleep himself, yet holding their small child to his chest as he rocked them.

God, she wanted that, was impatient for these visions to come true. Even though she regularly saw him holding and snuggling the children they already had, Rose was desperate to give him his fifth child and bring completion to their not-so-little-anymore family.

“Our baby looks healthy,” James said, his voice hoarse. Rose blinked away the visions in her mind’s eye and was brought back to the present, where her husband was no longer looking at the baby on the screen, but rather down at Rose. She flashed him a small smile that he returned before he focused on the midwife, his gaze intense. “But how is Rose? How is the hemorrhage? Is she healthy and safe?”

“Let’s take a look at that next.” Elizabeth zoomed out away from the baby, and instead shifted the focus of the ultrasound probe to the gray masses surrounding the baby. “Here we go.”

After taking a few seconds to orient James and Rose to what she was talking about, Elizabeth pointed to a black blob along the edge of the placenta. “Here’s the clot. And yes, it is just a clot now. It appears to no longer be actively bleeding, which is excellent news. The placenta is intact, which is also great news. Sometimes a concern is that the bleeding will cause the placenta to pull away from the uterine wall, but that is not the case here. I am very, very happy with what I’m seeing.”

Rose let out a deep breath. James, too, relaxed a fraction.

“Can I go back to business as usual?” Rose asked.

“Let’s not be hasty,” James answered instead.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Rose drawled, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Elizabeth pursed her lips around a grin. She wiped the expression off her face and said, “I see no reason why not. Obviously you are limited as any other pregnant woman is, and I would try to take it easy for the next couple weeks as the clot dissolves, but yes, you should be able to resume all activities as normal.”

Rose was fairly certain she’d read between the lines correctly, yet she asked, “Sex too?”

James let out a little squeak that had Rose rolling her eyes. Elizabeth’s entire profession revolved around people having had biologically-successful sex. They themselves were here because they’d had successful sex. Nutter.

“Yes, you may resume your sexual activities,” the midwife answered.

Rose nodded. She hadn’t been in the mood for sex lately, too concerned was she with the baby and will following the instructions to rest. She knew that James’s sex drive had mirrored her own in his double concern for her and the baby. While she still didn’t have the desire to drag James straight into bed when they got home, Rose was glad it was at least an option, if the mood struck. She’d find other ways to satisfy James if or when his sex drive returned while hers remained elusive.

“Is Rose okay to travel?” James asked. “We were planning to take the kids up to Scotland for half-term break next week. Probably travelling by train.”

“I’ve been cleared to shag your brains out, but no, the movement of a train will be far too vigorous for my delicate condition,” Rose muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

James flicked her nose but didn’t reply.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Elizabeth said, pretending not to have heard their exchange. “Just listen to your body, Rose. It will do a good job of telling you what it needs. Try not to overexert. Rest when you’re tired. Make sure you’re getting enough vitamins and nutrients. Things like that.”

“Thanks,” Rose said. “And while we’re talking about it, do you happen to have any connections with midwives in Scotland? Near Glasgow? James and I are going to be relocating our family. The move isn’t happening next week or anything; we’re getting the kids used to the area and the house we’ll be moving into.”

“And you say I’m chatty,” James teased.

Rose rolled her eyes.

“Funnily enough, I do,” Elizabeth said. “One of my very close friends. We went to school together. I can send you her contact information, as I don’t have it on hand right now. I can also reach out to her to see if she can see you next week, if you’d like? A consultation visit, mostly, assuming she is taking new patients and is near enough to where you’ll be living.”

“That’d be brilliant,” Rose said, accepting the moist towels the midwife handed to her and cleaning off her belly.

Elizabeth made a few notes on her computer, then printed out another scan of the baby for them, despite them having one from two weeks ago. She also scheduled Rose’s twenty-week appointment, which would be shortly after the holidays. Rose was already impatient for January sixth to be here; it would be the appointment when she and James would learn the sex of their baby, something Rose always loved learning. But this time was the added game of being able to tease James for his apparent inability to produce a Y-chromosomed sperm. As though that was something he could control. (A fact he liked to remind her of often.)

“As always, you can call us if there are any questions or concerns,” Elizabeth said as she walked them to the front lobby. “But I’m very pleased with everything I’ve seen today.”

After thanking her, James slipped his fingers between Rose’s and guided her out to their car.

oOoOo

The following week, James and Rose willed themselves to have endless reserves of patience as they readied their children for the trip to Scotland. It felt like they had to pack up their entire house to ensure they had enough supplies for all the kids, including toys and games in addition to the endless articles of clothing.

Robert, bless him, was accompanying them, to help with child care and to give his opinion on the work they might want done to the manor house. James had reached out to half a dozen different remodeling companies to have them come out and take a look at the work he and Rose wanted done; they were due to arrive at the end of the week, since James and Rose wanted the first few days to walk around the house and make lists of repairs and upgrades that could be done, both internally and externally to the grounds.

The train ride went as well as could be expected when travelling with four children. Ainsley was content to read for the entire journey, but Sianin loudly proclaimed she was bored barely an hour into the trip. The twins were awake and wanting to crawl around, but there was only so much space in the compartment car. James, Rose, and Robert took turns walking a fussing baby up and down the length of the train, introducing the infant to cooing passengers who fawned over how beautiful she was. The passengers were extra delighted to realize they were identical twins.

Finally, the train docked in Glasgow, where the Tyler-McCrimmons picked up a rental vehicle and made the half-hour drive out of the city proper to the manor house.

The excitement at the prospect of permanently living in the “castle” evaporated Ainsley and Sianin’s travel exhaustion. As soon as James unlocked the front door, they bolted inside and began chattering to each other about where their playroom should be and calling dibs on the bedrooms.

“I want this one,” Sianin announced, gesturing to the master suite.

“That one is off-limits,” James said lightly, tweaking the end of her braid. “Available to mummies and daddies only. Same with the guest suite on the other side. That’s for when Gran or Grandad stay to visit.”

Sianin deflated a bit, but perked back up when James reminded her that there were plenty of other bedrooms to choose from.

Rose, meanwhile, immediately began to visualize how she would decorate. The current color scheme of the manor was dark, but not gloomily so. Even still, Rose thought that brightening the wall colors from burgundy to a rich cream or ivory would help open up the space and blend the rooms together. It would also make the house feel cleaner, and with five children tearing it apart, Rose knew she and James could use all the help they could get in that department.

The floors were in excellent shape, having been replaced shortly after Ainsley was born. Robert had come to her and James when he was having the work performed so they could help pick out the color and style of the various hardwood, tile, and carpeted floors in all of the rooms. Belatedly, Rose realized that Robert had done so because he knew this home would belong to them in the near future.

From the foyer, which was lit from the warm glow of the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, Rose stared straight ahead into the formal dining room that used to be a ballroom; the kitchen extended beyond that through a set of wide oak doors that were currently closed. She already knew that the kitchen was huge and open, thanks to James’s grandmother having remodeled it to use up more of the defunct ballroom space. The kitchen housed a long table that would easily fit their large family; therefore, the formal dining room wouldn’t be necessary until they hosted holidays or had friends over. Otherwise, that could easily be a place for the children to do their homework.

To her right was what used to be a receiving room, but had evolved over the last century to be the living room. It was already furnished with a couch, a love seat, and a few reclining chairs placed strategically around a television. A fireplace sat along the far wall, and Rose could already see herself sitting in the rocking reclining chair and nursing her new baby, or snuggling with one of her other four children or husband as the fire crackled merrily beside them. Goosebumps prickled along Rose’s skin at the thought of her and James making love by the fireplace, a vision straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

Blinking away that fantasy for the time being, Rose continued her mental mapping of the manor. Behind the living room was another room that had been a different receiving room—most likely, she presumed, a space for the gentlemen when the ladies had overtaken the first receiving room. Because God forbid men enjoy their wives’ presence.

James’s parents had converted that into a study area for James; Rose thought it would make a nice playroom for their family. It had plenty of room to store the kids’ endless number of toys, and it had a closet where they could keep their games. The flooring in there was currently hardwood; Rose made a mental note to chat with James about replacing it with something softer.

Extending beyond the living room was a narrow hallway that opened up to what had once been servants’ quarters. Rose knew that James’s grandmother had remodeled it and created a larger footprint, converting the area into a spacious a guest suite; it was where Robert always slept when he visited, unable to stomach being in the master bedroom ever since he’d lost his wife.

To the left of the foyer was a long, wide corridor with several rooms branching off of it. One of those rooms was a library that Rose already knew Ainsley would practically make her second bedroom. Rose planned to outfit the room with a variety of comfortable furniture and a desk. Directly beside the library and connected with a door was a formal study; she figured James would like to make that his space, filling it with textbooks and knickknacks and turning it into a place he could mark papers and exams on the weekends or weeknights.

Directly beside the study and again connected through a set of doors was a secondary study. This one was at the end of the manor, and therefore had windows on the two external walls. It was filled with plenty of natural lighting and Rose thought it would make a perfect place for her to set up her art studio.

On the opposite side of the corridor from the library and studies were a series of small rooms. There was a half bath that was mostly just a closet with a toilet and a sink, and two small rooms that Rose genuinely didn’t know the purpose of. They were far too big to be closets, but a tad too small to be bedrooms. Rose didn’t care what they used to be; instead, she planned to make the rooms a nursery: one for the twins, until they were big enough for proper beds, and the other for the new baby. It would be perfect, since the last room at the end of the corridor was the master suite.

Rose already knew the suite was enormous, yet it took her breath away to behold it. The room would easily fit their king-sized bed and all of their bedroom furniture, and still have room for more. Perhaps they could put a cushy rocking chair in this room as well as the nurseries; there could never be enough cozy furniture to cuddle her children, Rose thought.

There was a giant walk-in closet connected to the bedroom, as well as a double-vanity ensuite. The bathroom, too, was huge, outfitted with a tub and a walk-in shower stall; both the tub and shower had plenty of room for her and James to share, which would be perfect for intimate date nights.

Moving from room to room, Rose catalogued how she would arrange furniture and paint colors that would look good in each room and blend the entire ground floor of the house together. She took note of the flooring, and which rooms should be outfitted with carpets rather than hardwood floors or tile, or vice versa. When she and James helped Robert pick out the floors, they’d only had Ainsley; at the time, she hadn’t been able to imagine having five children. Now, she couldn’t imagine anything differently.

“I can see that beautiful mind of yours at work already.” James came up behind her as she weighed whether the library ought to be carpeted or left as it was with hardwood floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and casually splayed a palm on her lower belly, kissing the side of her neck and sending pleasant tingles across her skin. “What are you thinking?”

Rose leaned into him, tilting her head back to catch his gaze. His eyes were bright with joy and soft with love; she found herself falling in love with him all over again. She turned in his arms, draping her forearms over his shoulders.

“I’m thinking,” she murmured, pushing up onto her toes so that her mouth hovered mere inches from his, “that this already feels like home.”

And though she planted a kiss to his lips as she finished speaking, his answering smile was dazzling.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #soulmates #soulmates au #family fic #kid fic #baby fic #pregnancy #fluff #romance #my fic #and baby makes seven #soulmates verse #perfectly matched series

21 notes · View notes

villainousshakespeare · 4 years ago

Text

Family Night

Tom Hiddleston/Fem!Reader RPF

Warnings: some angst, family drama, squabbling, fluff, feels, warmth, love, implied future smut After reconnecting on the set of In The Timing, Tom wants you to meet his family. How bad could it be?

I am feeling soft and fragile this week, so I had the urge to drop in on this couple and see a little slice of their life. Just some feels and a little bit of angst, but lots of love.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @alexakeyloveloki @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @ciaodarknessmyheart @frostbitten-written @grufflepuff-writes-stuff @hiddlesholic @hopelessromanticspoonie @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions @poetic-fiasco @redfoxwritesstuff @shiningloki @shae-annelore @vodka-and-some-sass @wolfsmom1 @yespolkadotkitty

"I've changed my mind. I don't think this is a good idea," you said nervously as the car pulled into the driveway of a nice house in the suburbs of Oxford.

"Darling, relax," Tom sighed, shifting the jag into park and turning his devastatingly blue eyes on you. "Everything is going to be fine. They'll love you."

"I don't know how you can say that," you fretted. "Your mother hates me!"

"Correction," he grinned, "she hated you. Past tense. But back then you were the evil siren who had seduced her baby boy into a hedonistic life of sin he was too young and naïve to be prepared to resist, putting his entire bright and shiny future at risk."

"This is not helping!"

"Now though," he continued, ignoring your interruption, "you are the brilliant author of her favorite novels, and the screenwriter who has single handedly elevated her perfectly grown up boy to new heights of acclaim."

"I am the same person though!"

"I know that darling. I have inspected you very closely to catalogue that all of you is, indeed, just as I remember it from our first meeting-"

"With a few more pounds," you muttered.

"And you are exactly as perfect as I remember, if not more so. My mother, on the other hand, has a more selective memory."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, that by this time I am sure she has managed to convince herself that she always loved you, and wanted only for us to end up happily together."

You gave him a hard look, wanting to believe the slightly smug smile that tilted his lips but having a hard time doing so. Mrs. Hiddleston had definitely not approved of you all those years ago, and you doubted time would make her forget. You couldn't really blame the woman. You yourself had been convinced that the difference in your ages and circumstances had been an insurmountable barrier to your relationship. Tom had been a young student, just out of university and about to begin intensive training to become an actor. You were years older and already settled into your life as a writer, although you had yet to have much success at it. While the passion between you was undeniable, you had let your insecurity lead you to end the relationship.

Now, years later, situations had altered. Tom was indeed all grown up and an international movie star to boot, as you had always known he could be. You were still older of course, but the difference in your ages seemed less significant now that you were both established in the world. Everything had changed, except for the fire that still sprang to light when you were in the same room. That miracle had somehow managed to survive the separation, reigniting stronger than ever when your paths crossed again to make the movie you had written drawing inspiration in part from your love for him. For the millionth time you thanked whatever gods might be listening for giving you a second chance with this man.

"Come on, best face the fire and get it over with," he said, getting out of the car and trotting to your side to open your door like the perfect gentleman he pretended to be. Only you knew better.

"What fire? I thought you said there was nothing to worry about?"

"Merely a metaphor love. Besides, my sisters and their families are here, so that should smooth things over."

"Yeah, that's going to make me feel less nervous," you groused.

Tom held the door open and ushered you into the house, steering to the left and into a cozy, tastefully decorated living room.

"Mum, we're here!" he bellowed as he helped you out of your coat and hung it with his on a peg in the hall.

"Uncle Yay Monster!!!!"

A quick thunder of steps was heard as a small child hurtled down the stairs and straight into the impossibly long legs of your companion. Tom laughed with genuine joy as he tousled the curly blond hair and attempted to pry the arms from around his legs. When he finally freed himself, it was only to swing the young girl, you guessed she was around 6, up into his arms for a bear hug that should have crushed her. Only your knowledge of how deceptively gentle he could be kept you from fearing for the child.

"Hello Pip!" he said, lifting her higher to balance on his shoulders. "Miss me?"

"Yes! Daddy's not as tall as you are!"

"Oh, so that's all I'm good for, is it? A better view? You women are heartless!" Tom winced as two little hands grabbed clutches of his hair, tugging for balance.

"No, not all. You also bring me presents!"

"Presents? What presents?" he made his voice baffled.

"Uncle Tom, you did bring me something, didn't you?" the shameless child wheedled.

"Maybe... grab my knapsack, would you?" he asked you.

As you moved to pick up the bag from where he had dropped it, you felt the girl's eyes focus on you as she suddenly realize she and her beloved uncle were not alone in the room.

"Who are you?" she asked with that directness only children could get away with.

Trying to hide your nerves, seriously how could you be nervous of a six year old? you introduced yourself, smiling up at her. From her lofty perch the girl regarded you as if you were an intruder into her realm and she was not sure whether to welcome you or order your beheading.

"Why is she here?" she asked Tom, who was moving from foot to foot in order to bounce her.

"Mind your manners, Pip," he scolded with a laugh. "She's a friend of mine. A very special friend."

"Gran did say you were bringing someone... I had thought she meant Luke."

"Why would I bring Luke to a family dinner?"

"Well, he's almost like family," she whined.

Tom swung the now squirming child off of his shoulders and hunched down to look at her more closely. You could see the disappointment in her face, and from the slight stain of her cheeks you had a sudden flash that her irritation was not so much at your inclusion than at the publicist's absence.

"Oh, Luke is fun, isn't he?" you asked, earning yourself a quick, incredulous look from Tom. "It's a shame he couldn't come tonight."

"He is!" the little girl turned her attention to you with a smile. "He scolds Uncle Yay Monster, and sometimes gets cross at him, but he's always very polite to me. He says that I'm the only Hiddleston who knows how to behave!"

"Shows what he knows," Tom huffed under his breath, making you struggle not to laugh.

"He's a very smart man," you nodded, ignoring your beau. "The first time I met him he said that he hoped I might be able to keep your uncle in line. I haven't had much luck so far. But to honest I don't really want to. I rather like it when he misbehaves. Sometimes."

"Me too," she admitted after a moment. "But don't tell Luke that!"

"I promise, it will stay between us," you said solemnly.

"I guess you can stay then," she decided. "Now, what did you bring me?"

"Greedy little Pip!"

"Pip?" you asked.

"Short for pipsqueak," Tom supplied with a grin.

"My name," she said with all the maturity of a duchess, "is Emilia. Only he calls me Pip. And only because he refuses to stop, even though I am much too old for that name now."

"Well, then I will call you Emilia. It's a very pretty name. Much more suitable than Pip."

"Traitor," Tom accused as he fished through his bag.

"I thought I heard voices!"

Emilia was squealing over her Shuri action figure, autographed on her feet, when a small group of adults entered the room. The family resemblance between Tom and his sisters was unmistakable. Fair haired and blue eyed, they were a classically attractive British family. Tom affectionately hugged both women with genuine warmth before moving on to the two men hanging slightly back and also gripping them in embraces. You stood aside and let the voices wash over you for a moment before he Tom turned back you and raised an eyebrow, drawing you to his side.

"Allow me to introduce my family. My sisters, Sarah and Emma, and their poor, beleaguered spouses Yakov and Jack."

"Hi," you managed. "Nice to meet you all."

"Oh, I love your books!" Sarah gushed, easing your mind a bit that the first response was positive.

"So, this is the woman we've heard so little about!" Emma, the younger of the two women said with a familiar grin.

"I've told you about her!" he insisted.

"You'll have to excuse Tom," Sarah told you with a roll of her eyes. "He loves to stoke the drama by being mysterious."

"I didn't realize I was such a secret," you said, glancing at him.

"They're grossly overstating things," he replied.

"No such thing. Tom never brings his women home. Not that there have been a lot of women," Sarah hastened to add.

Emma nodded. "And never for more than -"

"Three months!" they said in unison.

"Shut it!" Tom warned eloquently.

"Ah, the three month rule," Emma sighed dramatically, reminding you of her brother. "Give them just enough time to become fatally attached, poor deluded things, and then kick them to the curb."

"We never even get to meet most of them. He's always been that way. Ever since the woman."

"Sarah," Tom's voice was a warning.

"The woman?" you asked at the same time.

"Years ago, no one for you to worry about now!" she insisted quickly.

"Some older woman who broke his heart. Poor boy was never the same since. Not that he was such a catch before, mind you," Emma put in.

"That's enough," Tom snapped.

"Ooh, Tommy's angry!" Emma teased. "What was her name? Sarah do you remember?"

"Let me think," the older sister tilted her head to the side.

"No need," you decided to end the torture. "Um... it was me."

"What?" two sets of blue eyes stared at you while Tom ran his hand down his face.

"Can we maybe sit down now and talk like adults?" he asked in a pained voice.

"Oh, I need to hear this!" Emma said, falling into a chair.

Tom closed his eyes briefly and pulled you to his side on one of the comfortable sofas. You gave him a week smile and drew strength from the way his hand squeezed yours.

"Yes, alright," he said with a sigh. "Let's not all make a big deal out of this. We dated years ago. It was not an ideal break up -"

"I'll say," Sarah interrupted. "You cried for months!"

"I did not cry for - that is not the point. We met again on the set of the film, and the feelings were still there. We've been back together ever since."

"That would be so romantic if it wasn't about Tom!" Emma cooed.

"I think it's plenty romantic with anyway, thank you very much," he replied.

"I don't know what to think," Sarah said. "On the one hand, I swore if I ever met the woman who hurt my baby brother so badly I would beat the stuffing out of her. On the other... well, he does look fairly happy now."

"I am very happy now, so there will be no beating of anyone!"

"I really didn't mean to hurt him," you demurred. "I just thought the timing wasn't right."

"And I disagreed," Tom said through gritted teeth. "However, we both concur that the timing is impeccable now, so here we are."

"Wait, does your mother know?" Jack asked, interrupting the sibling banter for the first time. All eyes swung to him and he raised his hands defensively. "What? I know I'm the newest one, or was until now, but even I have heard of that woman who broke her baby's heart."

"I knew this was a bad idea!" you groaned.

"Well, it's not as though we had many alternatives," Tom shrugged philosophically. "You could hardly just never meet my mother if we are going to be together."

"I'm sure we could make it work some how," you said in a panic.

"Oh, don't worry about mum," Emma waved off your concern breezily. "Once she sees how dopy the Little Prince is over you, she'll come round soon enough."

"I'm just excited that Tom finally has a partner!" Sarah grinned.

"A partner for what?" you asked, a new sinking feeling hitting you.

"Game night of course!" Sarah answered.

"There are too many of us not to play partners, not if we ever want to go to bed," Emma explained, "but poor Tommy never has anyone for his team."

"Not since he made Mum cry that one time," Sarah added.

"I did not make her cry!"

"Yes you did!" his sisters said in unison.

"He made Luke swear once," Emilia added in from where she sat, previously forgotten by the grownups, introducing Shuri to Loki and Peter Parker figures. "I heard it all the way up in my room!"

"Pip! Hush! You're supposed to be on my side!" Tom told her.

"I thought it was funny," she giggled.

"Well, yes, so did I," he admitted, "but that's not the point."

"The last time he brought Bobby and said the dog was going to be his partner," Yakov sniggered.

"As I recall, we won anyway," Tom said superiorly. "I don't need a partner to beat the lot of you. Of course, I am glad to have you anyway, darling."

"I can't say the feeling is necessarily mutual," you looked at him in dawning horror.

"It shouldn't be," Emma mouthed at you in an exaggerated stage whisper. "

"Mr. Bossy Pants doesn't like loosing, you see," Emma told you gleefully.

"But he looooooves rules!" Sarah added.

"Well, there's no point without rules!"

"You are such a tight ass!" Emma mocked.

"Just because you're damn squib when it comes to games has to cheat to win!"

"Thomas William Hiddleston, how dare you talk to your sister that way!"

All heads turned to the entryway where a stylish woman of advancing years stood, arms on hips, looking fierce despite her red apron. Tom stood and took a step forward, face flushing as he realized his mother had caught him out.

"That's right, you tell him!" Emma couldn't seem to resist saying.

"Hush Emma," the matriarch said to her younger daughter, "I have no doubt you were provoking him."

"See, she always takes his side!" Sarah pointed out to you.

"That's because you two always gang up on me!"

"Stop it all of you, or do you all have to go sit on the naughty step for a time out?"

All three Hiddleston children looked mutinous, but held their peace as their mother stared them down.

"Some day you will have to teach me how to do that," Jack sighed wistfully.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't work for you dear," she smiled at him. "You have to be a mother. Now, Tom, would you like to introduce me to your friend?"

"Of course," Tom seized the change in conversation and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you to your feet like an overzealous puppy. "Mum, I know you've been telling me you wanted to meet the woman who had made me sound so happy on the phone. Well, here she is!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hiddleston," you lied, smiling anxiously.

"Oh, please, call me Diana," she smiled, moving in to hug you. "From what I've gleaned from my son, you are practically part of the family all ready."

"She certainly is," he agreed, beaming. "And I want no more jokes about three month rules or mystery dates."

"Oh, have the girls been giving Tom a hard time?" Diana sighed, rolling her eyes at her children. "They do love to needle him."

"It's good for him," Sarah opined. "Helps to counteract all that Sexiest Man Alive nonsense to hear from people who know the truth."

"Not to mention it's proper payback for the therapy bills from having to see our brother's arse on the big screen every time we go to the movies."

"Mum..." Tom wheedled.

"Alright girls, that's enough in front of Tom's friend. So, you two met on the set of the film? I love your writing by the way! Did Tom tell you I was the one who suggested he go after that project?"

"He did," you confirmed.

"From the moment I read your books, I couldn't help but think of my Tom. Well, perhaps not in the steamier scenes... I confess I had to skip those. I'm not a prude you understand, it's just in this case..."

"I understand completely!" you interjected as her children shuddered and squirmed.

"Good. I just couldn't get past the idea that the stories were written specifically with him in mind!"

"Well, actually," you took a deep breath, deciding to face the fire head on, just as Tom suggested, "they were."

"Oh, you mean you were a fan of his work?" she smiled. "I can understand that. He is rather charming on screen, at least in the movies where he is not forced into some ridiculous wig."

"No," licked your lips nervously and glanced at Tom.

"You see Mum," he took over, taking your clammy hand in his firm, warm embrace, "we had met before. In point of fact, you two have met before."

"Oh, Tom, don't be silly. I would remember that!"

"Oh, I think you do," he grinned, making you wonder if he'd gone mad. "It was the first time you dropped by my apartment at RADA. You hadn't called, and I thought you were the pizza deliveryman."

"Oh dear," Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose as you cringed in memory.

"Now Tom, the only woman I ever met at your apartment was that dreadful... oh!"

"Indeed," he nodded.

"You mean you were..."

"I'm afraid so," you mumbled, staring at the floor.

"But you were so old," she said. "So much older than my Tommy."

"Real tactful, Mum," Emma commented.

"I am older than him," you confirmed.

"But you don't look it all," Diana said, looking from you to her son. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that Tom was at least your age, if not older."

"Thanks, Mum."

"It's all that time in the sun," Sarah said. "I've told you to put on sunblock."

"I do."

"Children," Diana said, voice crisp with command, "the table needs setting."

Clearly knowing when fun time was over, Sarah and Emma jumped to their feet and with startling alacrity were out of the room, husbands in tow. Tom put his arm around your waist and stubbornly stood firm in a power stance, glaring at his mother.

"You too, Tom," she told him quietly.

"It does not take five people to set a table," his voice was just as soft.

"Then you can make the salad. We all know from that silly addvert you filmed that you know how to do that at least."

"It's okay, Tom," you told him as he geared up to protest again. "I'll be fine."

"Of course she will. Emilia, don't think I don't see you there. Go with your uncle and make sure he doesn't cut himself on any of the knifes."

You could tell that Tom wanted to protest further, but with his niece staring up at him adorably he was unable to do so. At last, with a disgruntled grunt, he lifted Emilia back onto his shoulders and harrumphed off towards the kitchen.

"Please, have a seat."

Diana gestured to one of the highbacked chairs. You perched on the edge as though prepared to fly off at any moment. The older woman settled herself straight backed in the seat across from you and looked you over carefully.

"So, you're her," she said at last. "I must confess, you look quite different in my memory."

"It was some time ago," you mumbled.

"A decade and a half. You broke his heart when you left him you know. He never really got over it. Oh, he dated of course. Actresses, popstars, but his heart was never in it."

"I never got over it either," you confessed, tears fighting to form in your eyes. "I loved him very much, even back then."

"But you left him."

"I did."

"Why?" she seemed very intent as she held your gaze. This mattered, you knew. Deeply.

"Because I loved him," you admitted. "I loved him from that first night. But he's Tom, and was even back then. He was brilliant, and driven, and had the whole world spread out in front of him."

"He did. I thought you were going to stand in the way of all of that. Be a distraction."

"I would have. If you know Tom, and of course you do, you know he is incapable of doing anything by half measure. If he committed himself to me, he would have gone all in. How would he be able to do that and gain the experience he needed?"

"He wouldn't have."

"I agree. He would have missed out on all the adventures waiting for him. And he would have secretly resented me, maybe even hated me for it."

"I don't know about that," Diana said, thinking it over, "but I would have. Yes, I can admit that. He was always destined for greatness, that boy. His father and I knew it from a very young age. When he told me about you, I thought you were an opportunist. Using an up and coming young boy for all the things that an older woman would. When you dumped him, well I just assumed..."

"That I had gotten bored with him?" you guessed.

"Well, yes I suppose. But that wasn't it at all. You weren't being dismissive, you were being protective. You put Tom's needs above your own."

"I don't know that I was being all that altruistic," you laughed. "Being tied to someone who resented me didn't seem like all that much fun for me either in the long run. But yes, I wanted what was best for him."

"Of course he couldn't see that. He's always been a stubborn boy. But now, after all this time..."

"It was like fate," you blurted out. "I know that sounds hokey, but it was as though the universe wanted us to end up together."

"Maybe it did."

"Then you're not upset?"

"My dear," she said, "I have watched my son his whole life. He is not an easy man in many ways. He is elusive, competitive, bossy, and highly driven. His standards for others are only exceeded by his standards for himself. If you have managed to maintain his interest, not to mention his heart, for all this time, who am I to gainsay that? Yes, I objected to your relationship in the past. You were correct about the opportunities he would have missed out on. But it's different now. Tom is a man, and well established in the world. He can pick and choose his projects to a great extent, and has the clout in the industry to set his own terms. If that includes bringing his wife on a shoot, or scheduling so that it fits in with her schedule, well, good for him."

"Wife?" you squeaked. "There's been no talk of that!"

"Oh, just wait. As I said, I know my son. He is not one to let the grass grow under his feet. If he is introducing you to all of us, and I admit, we can be a trial, then his plans are not of the short term variety."

"I want to be the flower girl!" a high pitched, excited voice called from the hallway.

"Emilia! Were you eaves dropping?" Diana exclaimed.

"Only because they told me to!" the little girl poked her head in to say.

"For the love of... if you'll excuse me, I have some children to reprimand."

"Of course," you said with a small chuckle.

"But first," you were suddenly embraced in a warm, maternal hug, "allow me to officially welcome you to the family. You have your work cut out for you. But please, for me sake, try to get him to cut his hair, or at least buy a new outfit. We are all heartily sick of The Uniform."

With a last squeeze, Diana got up and headed for the kitchen, leaving you shaken on the couch. Tom had been right, you had faced your fear, and the worst had not happened. In fact, things had gone better than you ever hoped for.

"Everything alright, love?" he asked, stepping in from a side door that you hadn't realized was there.

"Everything is wonderful!" you smiled tearily at him.

"See, I told you she'd love you!"

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be getting scolded?" you asked, coming into his arms.

"Ah, well. Every good obnoxious brother knows all the escape routes. I slipped out as soon as heard footsteps. By the time Mum finds me, she will be worn out from dealing with the others. Classic technique! Time tested."

"You must have been a terror," you laughed.

"Oh, most definitely," he agreed happily. "But now I'm your terror. And I assure you my sisters are very happy to have me off of their hands."

"I'll bet."

Tom grinned, and then kissed you soundly, making you forget for a moment the large family argument doubtless going on in the other room. He had a way of taking every thought from your head except for how perfect it felt to be in his arms, pressed against him. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard and more than a little excited.

"Best stop that for the time," he said regretfully. "Or we'll be in for it even more."

"You're probably right," you had to admit. Then a thought struck you and you couldn't resist a giggle. "Tom?"

"Yes love?" he asked, kissing your neck.

"What's the naughty step?"

"Just wait until everyone else goes to bed tonight," he told you, head in his voice, "and I'll show you."

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston/Reader #Tom Hiddleston/Fem!Reader #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #Romance #Love #Families #angst #fluff #teasing #squabbling #siblings #past relationship drama #meeting the family #tom hiddleston rpf #In the Timing

61 notes · View notes

ephemeral-sorrow · 4 years ago

Text

The Sweetness of Frenemic Love

Sometimes the strangest thoughts enter my head and make me write something bizarre but really touching at the same time. :D

pairing: Lilly x Male!MC

summary: It`s one step from hatred to love.

warning: a bunch of fluff ;)

Have you ever experienced resentment towards someone you`ve never met in real life?

Felt irritation and anger bubble up inside your head like lava slowly filling the volcano to the brim, almost turning your eyes into two sizzling hot coals?

Lilly had been familiar with these disgusting sensations even before she got to knew MC - the obnoxious stranger Hannah sent her number to and the one who managed to infiltrate their group and spread insurgency among everyone and everything around. Her sister`s disappearance ruined their peaceful lives, putting Lilly and her parents into huge stress, when each day with news even more horrible than on previous one, took away all their hope. So, to conclude it all, a completely unknown weirdo, who gained access to different sorts of information as well as trust of her blindly oblivious friends, now was sticking his nose into other people`s business without pangs of conscience.

The way things were progressing kept Lilly infuriated and incredibly... depressed. She refused to admit that to herself, but she was even angrier because of her own helplessness. She wanted to do something useful and finally get a clue that might come in handy or at least set things up so that the investigation would be faster and more efficient. However, guys from the group already had their own theories, sources and clues, took part in various events and furthermore, acted carelessly, not paying attention to threats. ... They made it clear that Lilly`s advice was pointless, just like her participation.

That`s why the mere thought of some stranger doing more for Hannah than her family made something snap inside, clouding Lilly`s judgement and true character with boundless spite. Not to mention, pure fear engulfed her at the suggestion that MC may be the real culprit, and here, cards played so flawlessly right into his hands...

* * *

Now it was a completely different story, and it was kind of hard to believe that was how she used to think of him only a year ago. A lot happened, making those restless days seem like a distant memory or rather a thrilling movie, characters of which were another people, portrayed in another places and time.

“So, what do you make of my new car?”

Lilly blinked, snapping out of her flooding thoughts and returned her attention to the cup of chocolate icecream with gente, pink frosting before her - and finally, stared at the rest of the group, that made themselves comfortable at the cafe table. Today was the celebration on account of Dan`s grandiose purchase - dashing, brand new Audi A3 model. It costed him a fortune but didn`t lessen his enthusiasm nor pride(having exited the hospital as soon as possible, he spent a great deal of effort in finding a good job AND cutting down on alcohol). As a result, every time he ordered apple juice at the Rainbow cafe he declared: “Cool dudes drink only juice!”.

“Dan, that was the hundredth time you`ve asked this question”, despite the fake bored tone, Cleo wore an amused smile, dropping her usual strictness.

“What can I possibly do when all of you are so short-spoken?” Dan dramatically leaned back on the soft cushion. “I need details. Not talking about this pretty girl is a sacrilege”.

“If she was mine, I`d call her ‘babe’ “, ice cubes softly clincked against the glass, as Richy thoughtfully twisted his cocktail in his hand. “And the quiet purrs of her engine are the same as a hearbeat--”

“Now, now, you`re just being ridiculous!” Hannah`s melodic laugh ringed before drowning in the chatter of the crowded cafe. Lilly`s insides warmed up upon seeing her sister smiling sweetly in the Thomas` embrace. She was safe and sound, cheerful and full of love for the surrounding world. Everything was back to normal and it made Lilly genuinely happy--

She felt hot breath pleasantly tickle her ear before a crisp, familiar voice sensually whispered to her:

“I don`t know about others, but if you asked me, the only ‘babe’ I see is you”.

Lilly couldn`t really help the flush that spread on her neck, so she coughed, pretending to be extremely interested in her icecream, which was already starting to melt.

She casted a quick glance at the man beside her, attempting to look unfazed by his sudden compliment only to be met with his mischievous, affectionate eyes.

“MC, we`re... we`re in public”, she whispered back rather shyly.

“You were kind of dreamy while looking at Thomas and Hannah, so I decided to remind you that you didn`t come here alone”.

“Hmph”, Lilly pouted, fixing the fallen lock of her hair. “as if I need your tasteless remarks to cheer up. You should come up with something more original”.

MC laughed airily, flashing his signature confident smirk. Lilly took a small breath, furrowed her delicate brows and turned away stubbornly, turning a deeper shade of red. She didn`t like her heart clenching bittersweetly at his actions, especially in front of her unsuspecting friends. It was difficult to keep a perfectly composed face.

“I`ll cook you Peking meat by my special receipt tonight”, MC continued as if nothing had happened, absentmindedly observing the lively conversation between Jessy, Dan and Thomas, and how Cleo was showing Hannah something on the phone.

“I’ll take it as an invitation to your house?” Lilly inquired. “Why are you so sure I`m going to accept it?”

“Oh please, sweetie, do you want me to list all reasons in front of so many people?” His expression was calm and serious, but Donfort knew better: he was mercilessly teasing her, not caring about precautions at all.

Lilly hit his leg under the table, earning a triumphant ‘ouch’ in response.

* * *

Later that evening at his place, after having had a fair piece of the most delicious meat she has ever eaten, Lilly was helping MC to wash the dishes, drying the shiny plates with a cloth and placing them into the cupboard. He was mumbling a delightful tune under his breath. She glanced at his features. Somehow simply being with this person made her forget about all troubles. But what about him?

“MC”, Lilly tried to sound not too curious.

“Yes?”

“Why did you choose me of all girls? I mean... I`ve never thought that you might become interested in me after what I did to you a year ago with that video and vote. Like in person, let alone a woman. You`ve been best friends with Jessy from the start, so it would`ve been logical if you two have had a thing”.

“To be honest with you, your brother said the same”, he smiled with the corners of his mouth. “What I found in you”.

“Excuse me, what!?” the girl exploded with outrage, dropping the cloth out of surprise. “Jake, that little jerk!! He`s supposed to back me up in situations like this!”

MC was holding his laughter for his dear life or he would inevitably get a handful but frankly, it was getting harder.

“What did you reply? Come on, I want to know!!” Lilly was worried and frustrated at the same time, looking at him impatiently and expectantly, like a little kid who desired to know their present for birthday.

“You seem so desperate-- HAHAHA, I CAN`T!”

Lilly groaned and threw a sponge at him on full speed, not bothering that it was still wet and full of soap. What was so funny when all she wanted to hear was these important words of confirmation?

MC cleaned his face and came closer.

“I replied that you`re the one who understands me. The one who always makes my day brighter. Also you are kind and candid”, his palm rested against her cheek, tenderly caressing it, as she leaned for his touch.

“I can often be impulsive and sharp”.

“That doesn`t make you worse. You always speak your mind. I think it`s admirable. Not to mention, you are a truly charming and elegant woman”.

She didn`t let MC finish his sentence because their lips collided in a soft, albeit passionate manner. Lilly lived up to her statement - this kiss was spontaneous and full of feeling. She traced his wide shoulders, stopping when her hands found their place in his unruly hair, slightly tugging at it.

They parted once they ran out of air.

“Jake additionally said my romantic confession would lead to this”.

“Ugh, you`re terrible!!”

#duskwood #mc #lilly #lilly x mc #jake #richy #cleo #hannah #thomas #dan #jessy #everbyte #duskwood fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

morningsound15 · 4 years ago

Link

The Wedding: A Sombre Affair

Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie, Theodora “Theo” Crain & Jamie

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,753. Complete.

just a little Haunting of Hill House/Bly Manor crossover because it wouldn’t leave my brain! enjoy the drabble

Jamie takes a long sip of her whiskey. She hopes it will calm her shaking hands, but they shake all the time, now. Whether she’s sober or not. Age or arthritis or exhaustion catching up with her. It’s hard to say which. All she knows is her joints are stiff and her hands shake.

She rests her head on the cool wood of the mantle, taking a moment to breathe in the silence. The story always takes a lot out of her. She’s perfected its telling over the past few decades, carefully working the cadence of her voice, getting the pacing just-so, drawing out the people in her memories until they’re actual characters, realized and lovely and full of life. She tries to be kind to them, in her retelling. She tries to think of them sympathetically, as all people deserve to be thought of, but she knows that some of her embellishments are too liberal to be fully believable.

Even so, all good ghost stories need some embellishment.

She’s just not sure which parts are real and which are embellishment anymore.

It’s hard to even know how many of her memories are truly hers. Bly Manor feels a hundred lifetimes ago, and with every passing year it feels further and further still. Slipping out of her grasp like the sands of time through her fingertips. It’s a feature of the mysterious house that the memories caught within are destined to wither and fade — to wash away smooth, like rough stone at the bottom of a lake. That’s part of why she tells the story as often as she does. She needs to preserve the memory of Bly and the ghosts within.

That’s all ghosts are, really. Just memories the living refuse to let go of.

It’s a small comfort that Miles and Flora don’t remember much of their childhood at Bly Manor. Children aren’t meant to live through terrible things. The ghosts have long left them behind, and unburdened they have become lovely young people, vibrant and full of life. Flora is married now, and she made a truly beautiful bride. Jamie spins the ring on her finger, thinking of her own marriage-that-wasn’t. It’s not a melancholy memory, not anymore. She once was overcome with sadness and grief over her own loss, the future that was stolen from her, the forever happiness she could once taste on the tip of her tongue, but that feeling has long since faded. She is an old woman now, too old to be overcome with such sadness.

Still, weddings are something of a sombre affair.

“Your story was wonderful,” a voice says behind her, and Jamie straightens, subtly wiping at the moisture in the corner of her eyes.

She turns to see a young woman behind her. She looks strangely familiar, though Jamie is certain they’ve never met. Her hair hangs in loose waves, the dark blue of her dress contrasting with her pale skin. Her face is angular and her eyes are a cutting pale green, so light they’re almost blue.

It’s her eyes that are so shocking. They knock the breath out of her. Jamie stares at the woman for a long moment, unable to speak. Dani’s eyes had been almost exactly the same colour (when they had been her eyes alone, when they had been hers and not Hers).

The woman must see the hesitance on her face. She holds a hand out. She’s wearing a pair of long evening gloves, silk. They go all the way past her elbows. A curious look, for a wedding that isn’t black-tie.

Jamie’s always had a preternatural ability to tell when a woman is gay. She knew Dani was interested in her the moment their eyes met. It had been a dangerous feeling, electric and sharp up through her spine. She ignored it for as long as she could, but Dani was a magnetic presence; not easily ignored.

“Theodora,” the woman says when Jamie takes her hand. “My friends call me Theo.”

Jamie knows as soon as she shakes this woman’s hand that she’s a lesbian. Call it intuition, call it perception. Either way, it relaxes her. She’s long grown tired of explaining her bachelordom to well-meaning young straight women who see her refusal to re-marry as petrifying as a death-sentence. As if to be unloved for a moment is to be wholly miserable. As if there is nothing more terrifying than being an old woman with no partner to hold her at night.

(They misunderstand her. They think that being single means she is unloved. She isn’t. She’s been loved wholly and completely, all-consuming and never-ending, since she was a young woman. She’s never doubted it for a moment.)

(Sometimes she feels arms wrap around her in her sleep. In her dreams she is warm and loved. She feels the presence of another human being in her bed, feels warm breath on the back of her neck. It’s always gone by the time she wakes up, but she chases that feeling, longs for it every time she closes her eyes.)

(She looks for her in the mirror, in the bath, in the silver chrome of napkin dispensers, the dark emptiness of a dormant television, in her makeup compact. No one else ever looks back, no one but her own face.)

“Nice to meet you, Theo.”

She finds young queer women particularly interesting. Sometimes, though not often, she allows herself to think of what her life might have been like, had she and Dani been born a few decades later, had they come of age in a world more prone to acceptance and open-mindedness than the stifling environment they lived in. She doesn’t think about it often — it’s a sad thought, not worth dwelling upon. Besides, she wouldn’t trade their time together for anything. It was perfect, exactly as it was, exactly when it was. It’s not worth thinking of might-have-beens.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Theo says, looking a little uncomfortable. She stares at Jamie intently, as if studying her. As if looking for something hidden in her face. She wonders if she looks as familiar to Theo as Theo does to her. She wonders if that means anything, or if it’s just another occurrence in a life of strange occurrences. A remarkable coincidence of mutual and impossible recognition.

“Are you with the bride’s family?” Jamie doesn’t recognize her, but then again she’s not particularly close to the Wingraves anymore. Not enough to keep track of their extended friends and family.

But Theo shakes her head. “The groom. Old family friends. My sister is getting married next year. John’s going to be in the wedding party.”

“Ah.” The silence between them is awkward. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, nor how to politely excuse herself. “Lovely service, wasn’t it?”

Theo nods. “Very sweet. Short.”

“Yes, short is usually better, as these things go.”

Jamie looks down at her empty whiskey glass and longs for a top off. The reception isn’t even halfway done, and she’s already fulfilled her role as ‘Elder Relative Storyteller’ for the evening. She has nothing left to do but linger until it’s appropriate for her to slip off on her own.

She much prefers being alone these days. Other people are challenging for her, difficult to trust. They find her difficult to understand. Best to be avoided altogether.

“Can I help you with something?” Jamie asks when Theo still doesn’t speak. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“Can I ask…?” Theo clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s about your story. The gardener.”

Jamie swallows the wavering smile and keeps her expression neutral. “Of course. What did you want to know?”

“Why did she stay with the au pair? She knew their love was doomed, but she stayed with her all those years. Why?”

Jamie’s smile is tiny, but she can’t help its presence. Thinking of Dani always makes her smile. Even when it’s tinged with sadness. “The gardener knew that she wouldn’t be able to have the au pair with her forever. But love and possession are opposites. Loving her was never about having her.”

“But the au pair’s spirit never returned. She left the gardener alone. She could have taken her in the lake; they could have been together forever. Isn’t that… isn’t that what they both would have wanted?”

“To truly love another person is to accept the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them,” she says, repeating Owen’s words from a night ago. It is a lovely summation of her own life, though it’s painful to hear. “Dead is not gone.”

Theo takes a shaky breath. She closes her eyes.

Theo has a haunted look to her. Jamie wonders if she has ghosts of her own, hiding somewhere just out of sight. Occasionally she meets others like her; people with histories long-buried, with ghosts lingering in the closet. People who have lost too much too young, who have death sticking to their souls like an unescapable shadow.

She wonders if that’s why Theo sought her out. Those who have been touched by spirits have a certain sadness to them. Prolonged contact with the dead has that effect.

“It really was a lovely story,” Theo says again. Her eyes are wide, kinder now. They shine with something. Jamie wouldn’t call it tears. Maybe ‘melancholy’.

“Just an old wives’ tale,” Jamie dismisses. “Something to set the mood. Weddings have a way of making a person think of her own mortality. And it’s an old house. Old houses deserve ghost stories.”

“Is that all it is? A ghost story?”

Jamie’s lips twitch. “I always thought so. Flora disagrees.”

“Flora?”

She shakes herself. She keeps forgetting. “The bride,” she explains. “When she was a girl we called her Flora. The nickname lingers, though she doesn’t respond to it anymore.”

“She didn’t like your ghost story?”

“She didn’t think it was a ghost story at all. She said it was a love story.”

“Same thing, really,” Theo whispers, and Jamie sucks in a quiet breath.

“Yes. I suppose so.”

Theo continues to stare at her, and it’s getting a little unnerving. She regards Jamie with a gaze that is unblinking and fixed. She traces the lines in Jamie’s face, the grey of her hair, the veins on the backs of her hands. It would be uncomfortable, or maybe erotic, except there is nothing like desire in the woman’s gaze; nothing that says she’s interested in what she’s seeing. More like she’s troubled by it. Or disappointed.

“You still have something on your mind, Theo,” Jamie says kindly. People, like ghosts, have a tendency to linger as long as their business is unfinished. She doubts she’ll have a moment of peace tonight until Theo decides that her curiosity has been tempered. “And I’m beginning to doubt it has anything to do with my ghost story.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to stare. You… look like someone I used to know. And I thought…” She looks down at her own hands, encased in black silk. She pulls at the fingers of her right hand glove, one by one freeing the digits from their confinement.

Jamie watches her carefully. Theo flexes her fingers and holds her hand out again.

Jamie doesn’t know what makes her want to take the woman’s hand. She knows with a settling finality that she’s going to; there are some things that are destined, even tiny moments such as this. And she’s long believed in destiny.

She still hesitates for a moment. She’s not sure what’s going to happen when their skin meets, but the way Theo looks at her makes her think it’s not something she wants to find out. That only makes her more curious.

It’s been a long time since she sought out physical contact. It had been too difficult after Dani. No one else ever touched her the way Dani had, and no one ever could. She used to wonder what she would have done if she’d been able to touch Dani one more time. She hadn’t been able to swim low enough. The Lake was too deep, or Dani hadn’t wanted her to. She’s not sure if those are different things. She’d reached out, longed for Dani to take her in her arms once more and hold tight and never let her go. She’d wondered if Dani’s skin would have been warm or cool to the touch, and which would have been worse — knowing she’d only just missed saving her, or knowing that she’d been taken long ago, and there was nothing in her power that could have saved her from the Lady of the Lake.

Theo doesn’t prod her. Jamie takes her hand of her own volition.

She’s not sure what she expected. Something electric. Some shifting of the world, a re-focusing of spiritual energy maybe. Maybe an apparition appearing behind her eyes, a chill down her spine. The presence of something or someone long-dormant, exploding into being.

The touch is unremarkable. Theo’s hands are soft and warm. Her gloves have kept her skin baby smooth. She holds Jamie’s hand more softly than when they shook earlier, and Jamie looks at where their hands touch, her older sun-damaged skin standing in stark contrast to the perfect youth in front of her.

Something settles in her stomach. It’s not a feeling she can describe, but it settles and when she looks at her hands again they’ve stopped trembling.

Curious.

“The gardener really loved her,” Theo says quietly, her hand still soft in Jamie’s. And Jamie nods, unable to speak.

“The au pair… she loved the gardener, too. That’s why she left her. By leaving she knew she was leaving her true love, too. But… she had to.” Jamie blinks. “If she stayed she was risking them both. And Dani would never risk that. She couldn’t risk you.”

Jamie’s knees buckle underneath her. She drops Theo’s hand as if burned and takes a few stumbling steps back. Her glass slips from her trembling fingertips and it shatters against the floor.

Theo recoils, quickly slipping her hand back into her glove. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, casting her eyes about wildly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Who are you?” Jamie whispers. She knows this woman’s face. She’s seen it before, somewhere long-ago… in her dream, or in the shivering surface of a warm bath, or at the bottom of a frigid, misty lake…

“Aunt Jamie!” Miles catches her elbow, steadying her. Jamie blinks, his face swimming in front of her eyes for a few moments before it sharpens. “Are you alright?” He looks towards a nearby waiter. “Come clean this glass up!” he snaps. “Someone could get hurt.”

He leads her gingerly to a nearby couch, despite her protestations. “I’m fine,” she promises. “Just a bit too much to drink. This old house is drafty. I’m fine, I promise.” Still, he doesn’t leave her side until she’s had some water and bread, until her heart rate has slowed and the band resumes playing.

The strange woman in the gloves has long-since vanished, and though Jamie looks for her for the rest of the night, she never sees her again.

She falls asleep in her room later, and it is a fitful sleep. She curls up on an armchair, uncomfortable and cold, but she prefers to sleep this way. The discomfort prevents her from sinking into a too-deep sleep. It means she is perpetually unrested, but she’s gotten used to the exhaustion. The alternative — that she will sleep through the night, sleep through a visitor, any attempted contact… it’s not something she is willing to risk.

It’s a fitful sleep, full of fitful dreams. Smoky haze and icy water. Dani is there, or maybe she isn’t, and a woman she knows but cannot see, a woman with wavy brown hair and long slender fingers who reaches for her, reaching out out out—

A warmth settles over her, so slowly she doesn’t even notice it. Her dream grows restful again, her breathing steadies. She sleeps as if on the softest bed, wrapped in the warmest blanket. Her mind is empty of all worries. She sees Dani closer now, sharper. Her smile and her smell, her eyes brilliantly blue and all hers, all her.

Jamie smiles in her sleep. The hand on her shoulder tightens. The calm settles over the hotel room, just a woman and her memories, a woman and her ghost.

#dani x jamie #theo crain #the haunting of hill house #the haunting of bly manor #a crossover because i couldn't stop thinking about it #canon compliant #fanfiction #mine

46 notes · View notes

invisibleinorange · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin Summary: Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes". (#I’mHereToKillYouAllWithFeels)

Furious didn’t begin to cover it. Penelope was practically shaking with rage as she made her way into the cool of night. It was almost nice to feel something other than heartbreak though.

She couldn’t quite put a finger on who she was mad at. It was more a general anger that had been building up for some time. The proposal had just been a triggered that sent it bubbling up.

She’d had to leave her home or she knew she would have done far worse than raise her voice or walk away from a proposal. She had spent years dreading the moment she came of age to become part of society.

She’d been a particularly normal child and she knew that once upon a time her mother had treated her much the same she treated her other children. Her sisters had always been naturally thin, perfectly average but she had always been softer. Her mother had assumed she’d outgrow the baby fat but it never happened and the older she became, the more her mother saw fit to constantly insult her.

It was a nearly daily battle attack of her appearance and when it wasn’t that, it was something else. At some point, she’d stopped thinking she’d ever amount to much of anything. She never quite felt enough. Her mother had ensured as much. When her mother all but deemed her ineligible, she believed it to be true.

That was why she became skilled into camouflaging into walls. If people didn’t notice her, they couldn’t hurt her. Only part of her plan had worked. The problem was that she did care. She wanted to be the person who got asked to dance. She wanted someone to deliver her flowers. She wanted to be enough for someone.

She had been.

Her mind couldn’t quite believe the words that Colin had written her though. The last words he would ever write her. There wouldn’t be any romance from Mister Bridgerton.

The fact that Benedict thought that he could just come, propose to her and everything was going to turn out okay was preposterous.

Sure, she knew he was a good guy. That wasn’t her problem though.

She’d spent half her life praying that one day she’d wake up and just be part of the Bridgerton family instead of her own. She couldn’t do this though; She refused to accept a proposal borne of grief or sympathy.

She wouldn’t curse someone to the misfortunate of being stuck with her, especially when she knew that they weren’t in love with her nor she them. Her mother would have found it foolhardy to even care about such things but for Penelope Featherington there was nothing more important.

Penelope wasn’t sure that anyone actually loved her. Even Colin had called her a friend. She project her own feelings into his words a million times over but they didn’t make them his. She wouldn’t have believed them even if he uttered them to her.

That didn’t change the fact that Colin Bridgerton was the only man that she’d ever loved and in the depths of her heart, she wasn’t sure there was room for anyone else.

Colin had been there since he was a boy and even he would never be an old man, he’d be there in hers until her time came.

Perhaps that was why her feet carried her through the streets almost absently until she found herself pushing past a gate and into a darkened graveyard with an adjacent church. It was almost eerie with the silence.

She made her path through the graves, not even stopping in her own family tomb where she knew her own father laid. Instead she moved, not settling until she saw the Bridgerton name. Without a body, Colin would never be placed there amongst his family members.

A gloved hand touched her back from behind and it was enough to startle her, made her turn in panic. As childish as it was, she half expected to see a ghost. Instead she saw something far scarier: Violet Bridgerton.

The last time she’d seen the matriarch of the family, she’d been crumbling but the woman before her seemed back to her usual strength, though clearly sad.

“I apologize for startling you,” Violet said before her eyes seemed to access the situation and concern spread across her features. “It’s not safe for a Lady such as yourself to be wandering after dark alone, improperly covered for the night. You’ll freeze, My Dear. What are you doing out here?”

“I – was,” Penelope stammered, mildly afraid and unable to really formulate an excuse in her head. A part of her wondered just how much Violet knew of everything. She wasn’t about to ask. Instead she recovered, nodded politely and said, “You’re unaccompanied yourself, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Violet, Dear,” she told her with a sad laugh, urging the informality. “I suppose that’s fair. I always sneak out when the children are distracted or asleep, especially when I wish to visit with their father. I wasn’t aware he already had an audience tonight. Has he been much help?”

Penelope felt relief wash over her in a way. She felt she had been let in on some really important adult secret. She couldn’t help but wonder if any of Violet’s children knew about their mother’s habit. There was something weirdly comforting in knowing that the woman still sought out her husband even though he’d been dead for so long.

Violet’s devotion to her husband was so endearing that Penelope couldn’t help but feel safe to speak openly.

“Sadly no,” Penelope told her. “Though, I suppose the fact that you’re here could be an answer in itself. I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your time.”

Was this a sign? Had Colin directed his mother here from Heaven to show her that even if he was gone it was okay to love him forever?

“It’s not an intrusion. I’d be remiss to not side with you and say that this meeting was kismet,” the elder Bridgerton told her. “Please unburden yourself on me. My children think I’m so delicate that they’ve taken to keeping everything from me, forcing my convalesce instead of letting me attend to them and they’re the ones who need their mother most right now.”

Never in her life had she wanted Violet Bridgerton to be her mother more.

“Funny,” she started with a light smile. “They’re treating me much the same. Less mothering, more thinking I need to be … taken care of.”

“Do you not wish to be?” Violet asked, almost disregarding that there could possibly be more questions to ask before that for context. There was something in the look in her eyes that told Penelope that somehow the older woman knew far more than she was saying though.

“Not like this,” Penelope told her honestly.

“I take my role as mother very seriously. I’ve always known my children and the things that make them who they are. I’ve known that you fancied my son for far longer than probably even you are aware. I’m also aware that of his many gifts, being quick on the uptake isn’t one of them,” Violet started in, leaving Penelope to awkwardly shift on her feet. “Colin is – was – remarkable and I have no doubt he could have made you very happy but as his mother, I have to urge you to not miss out on life mourning him. Graveyards are lonely places to spend one’s time sneaking away to.”

“It’s not-“ Penelope started, wanting to protest a little and perhaps explain.

“No, you listen to me. When my Edmund died, the world ceased spinning on its axis. It took a considerable amount of time to find my footing again. I had to learn to navigate life again. My children are who restored me. They healed me and every day I strive to heal them. Grief doesn’t fade but you learn to live without those who leave you. My children are the living, breathing proof of a great love that exists only in my heart these days. They give my life meaning as they grow and begin their own lives. You must find what gives your life meaning. You do not have to let Colin go from your heart to leave room for others to enter it.”

“I don’t think anyone is exactly fighting for room in my heart,” Penelope finally managed to say. She still wasn’t completely sure how much her older companion knew. Would she be speaking to her in such a manner if she did. “I don’t think I’m meant for a great love like yours. Not now.”

“Honestly Penelope Featherington!” Violet said with a motherly tick. “You’re a delight. I’ve known you since the day your mother birthed you. I won’t hear this because it’s simply not true. You were always destined for greatness. You’re just a caterpillar who hasn’t quite transformed into a butterfly yet. Someone was always bound to see you for who you are. I would have loved to have you as a daughter but even if you were never meant to be a Bridgerton, we’ll always be there to remind you of your worth. ”

#polin #⚜ writings — polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington

23 notes · View notes

fanficimagery · 5 years ago

Text

Can’t Help Falling In Love.

Relationship: Sam/Reader Words: 8.2K Warnings: I’m afraid Sam’s OOC. I tried, I really did.

Imagine being Bella’s older sister from a woman Charlie was with before Renee. You’re only staying with your dad now until you get back on your feet and had no intentions of looking for romance, but apparently Fate has other plans for you.

The taxi drops you off in front of a familiar two-story house, and after paying the taxi fee and collecting your two bags, you hesitantly walk towards the front of the house. A police cruiser sits in the driveway and it brings a small smile to your face as you cautiously walk up the iced porch steps. Then hesitantly knocking on the door, tears immediately spring to your eyes when Charlie opens the door and his eyes light up with excitement.

"Y/N!"

"Hi, dad." Charlie is quick to then envelop you in a hug, your bags falling at your feet so you can wrap your arms back around him in return. "I know you knew I was coming, but I'm sorry I didn't warn you I took an earlier flight."

"Don't apologize, kiddo. This is a good surprise. I'm happy you're finally here."

You and your dad continue to squeeze each other as tightly as you can before the cold finally gets to you, Charlie then releasing you to grab your bags himself and gesturing you inside. "Thanks for letting me come back home," you mumble. Charlie drops your bags on the couch before turning to face you once more. "I screwed up, dad, and you had every right to refuse me. I promise I'm going to get back on track. I won't let you down a second time."

He smiles fondly. "We all make mistakes, Y/N. I'm just glad you realized what yours were before it was too late."

"You and me both."

You glance around the room, gaze sweeping over the worn-in furniture and family portraits littering the walls. The house is a lot homier than you remember and you're grateful for it. You haven't had a place that felt like home since you left for college and you're anxious to finally settle down and get your life back on track.

"Bells, Nessie, and Edward should be here soon. I didn't tell her you were coming, but don't be surprised if she's not surprised you're here. In fact, don't be surprised if she shows up within the next few minutes as if she already knew you were here."

Your brow furrows. "Nessie?"

Charlie looks at you, surprised you don't know. "Yeah. Renesmee. Your niece?"

"I have a niece!?" Charlie's eyes widen and yours close as you pinch the bridge of your nose when he takes a beat to answer. "I have a niece and I didn't even know? I must have been really out of it."

"To be fair, Renesmee is Edward's niece they adopted after a tragic accident the girl's parents were in." You frown at your dad and he sighs. "It's weird. Trust me, I know," he chuckles. "There are some things you need to know, but can't know because it's not my place to tell you. What I can tell you, however, is that your sister has changed."

"Changed?"

"Apparently she contracted some very severe illness while on her honeymoon. She spent months recuperating and when Jacob came to tell me that Bella was better, he informed me that she had to change in order to be better. You'll see what I'm talking about when you see her, but please don't voice your thoughts aloud. It's weird for everyone involved when she gives you the speech about can't knowing for your safety."

"Jesus," you mumble. "What the hell did Bella get herself into?"

"All you need to know is that your sister is happy, your niece is adorable, and the Cullen's are really great people."

Your mouth opens to reply, but whatever you had to say just completely blips out of your mind. You sigh and your shoulders droop. "Yeah. Okay."

True to Charlie's prediction, the front door opens and Bella appears around the corner with windswept hair. Amber eyes widen before the most beautiful smile overtakes her features. "Y/N.."

"Hello, sister." Bella closes the gap between you, her body a little too firm and too cold. The oddity of her eyes flashes in your mind as you return her embrace, followed by Charlie's words, and you let it go after a brief thought. Something in your sister has changed, but she's here and she's happy, and that's all you've ever wanted for your little sister. "I'm sorry I missed your wedding."

"It's okay. You're here now."

When Bella finally releases you, behind her is probably one of the most gorgeous individuals you've ever laid eyes on and the cutest little girl who appears at least four or five perched on his hip. His eyes are the same color as your sister's, but again Charlie's words float into the forefront of your mind. Smiling shakily, you ask, "You must be Edward. Welcome to the family, brother-in-law."

He chuckles as he smiles and bounces the little girl in his arms. "It's nice to finally meet you." You nod, but when your gaze is drawn back to the girl once more, he asks, "Would you like to hold her?"

"Can I?" Your gaze darts between Bella and Edward, and both nod. You then hesitantly walk towards him and hold your hands out when Renesmee smiles at you, and you're surprised at how easily she goes from Edward's arms to yours. "Hello, little one," you coo as you perch her on your hip as Edward had her. "I'm your aunt Y/N."

Renesmee yawns and lays her head on your shoulder, and you twist up your mouth to keep sudden tears at bay. Edward chuckles and Bella stares, amused. "You alright there, Y/N?" Your sister asks.

"I've only known the little crotch goblin for two minutes and if someone ever raises their hand to her, I'll kill them."

All three adults laugh and you sway your niece as her body starts to go lax in your arms. Charlie suggests everyone take a seat and you do, moving Renesmee around in your arms so she's comfortable.

There's a brief bout of silence before Bella asks, "Where have you been? We used to keep in contact every week and then nothing, Y/N. What happened?"

Rubbing your cheek atop your niece's head, you then meet your sister's worried gaze. "I messed up, Bells. I.." With your throat suddenly feeling too tight, you trail off and gulp, and then clear your airway. "I got overwhelmed with school and work, and I- I messed up."

"You should have called," Bella says, frowning. "We would have helped you."

"I was so lost. I didn't know how to ask for help or anything without feeling so ashamed."

"What changed?" The question surprisingly comes from Edward.

"A couple of months ago it was like my mind just cleared. I was sober for the first time in a little over a year and when I realized just how much I had screwed everything up, I put aside my pride and called home. Dad made me settle some things with my school in order to take some time off, found me a 30 day rehab program to endure to make sure I had someone with me for the worst of the withdrawals, and then when I completed it, I asked if I could come back home to get back on my feet."

Edward nods in understanding. "For what it's worth, coming from a stranger and what not, you made the right decision. There are a lot of people in your shoes who choose not to seek help and continue on their destructive paths, but you- you're strong. I'm glad you came back. Now Renesmee gets to know another aunt and I get to know my sister-in-law."

Bella huffs a laugh. "Be careful what you wish for. Once Y/N gets comfortable with you, she's a pain in the butt."

You hiss. "Language, Isabella. Don't corrupt the sleepy little crotch goblin."

Charlie groans. "Can you please stop calling my grandchild a crotch goblin?"

"Sorry, dad."

The rest of the evening goes exceptionally well, and you quickly get over the glaringly obvious differences in your sister and her husband. While you are curious about them after your talk with your dad, you're just grateful that she nor Edward had judged you when they realized just how far you had fallen.

Edward, Renesmee, and Charlie had then leave to go grab some take-out while you catch up with Bella, and you apologize over and over for missing such a big day in her life. She assures you it's fine, but after admitting you're more upset at yourself because you had really wanted to be there, Bella comes up with the idea of holding another ceremony so you can be there this time around. You immediately refuse because you don't want her going through the trouble, but after a phone call from her sister-in-law Alice your sister assures you it's very do-able and that Alice was already making arrangements.

Charlie had chuckled when he heard his daughter was renewing her vows already and Edward looked quite scared that his sister was already in planning mode. The only condition Edward had, however, was that they give you a few months to settle down in Forks before the ceremony was to take place.

Bella, along with a reluctant Alice, agree.

In the couple of weeks that you've been home, Bella has only visited twice. You had expected she'd make more frequent trips given how excited she was now that you were home, but Charlie assured you it was the new norm when it came to his youngest. And though you felt let down, you ended up feeling quite content with all the texts and phone calls you shared with her.

"Hey, kid, what smells so good?"

You startle at Charlie's voice, setting the ladle back down into the pot you'd been stirring before grinning at your dad. "Beef stew. The cornbread is just about done, so go on and wash up."

"Sounds good." Charlie turns to walk away, but then turns back around. "Y/N, you remember Billy Black. Right?"

"Uh, yeah. Lives down on the Rez?"

"Right. The thing is Billy usually has a few caretakers, but tonight everyone seems to be busy. If it's not too much to ask, can you take him whatever leftovers we have?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, kiddo."

Dinner with Charlie is had in relative silence, the small talk being the bare minimum seeing as there was really nothing to talk about. Work for Charlie was his usual, boring day, and finding a school to transfer to near Forks in order to complete your nursing degree was proving quite tricky. However, there was an online course you could complete so long as you found a hospital willing to take you on to accumulate hours of experience.

"Well why don't you ask Carlisle to see if they do some stuff like that at Forks General?" Charlie asks when you're spooning the leftover stew into a large Tupperware bowl for Billy.

"Who's Carlisle?"

"Edward's father. He's the best doctor around."

"Huh." Your lips purse in thought. "I'll text Bella or even Alice to ask Carlisle then. I guess Bella gave her sister-in-law my number and that girl texts nonstop once you get her going."

Charlie chuckles. "Alice is a force to be reckoned with. She may be tiny, but she's terrifying."

"Tell me about it. I've never even met the girl and already she has several dresses for me to try on for Bella and Edward's second wedding."

"That sounds like something she'd do."

Clicking the lid onto the bowl of stew and then loading up another with the last of the cornbread, you gather both bowls in your arms. "So I guess I'm using Bella's old truck that she dropped off the other day?"

"Yep. Keys are hanging by the front door. And don't worry, Y/N. Bella's other sister-in-law Rosalie is a genius mechanic. She replaced everything in that truck and it now purrs like it's supposed to."

You laugh. "Got it. See you in a bit. Hopefully I don't get lost."

With the heat nearly on full blast and the radio playing classic rock on low, you drive down to La Push and take the somewhat familiar path to Billy Black's house. The sight of the red house with white trimming brings back vague memories from long ago and you park several feet from the wooden ramp leading up to the white door.

You know the house has seen better days, but it's a house that still brings a small smile to your face. The second the engine cuts, a group of shirtless men come from around the corner. You briefly hesitate, but gather the tupperware bowls in your arms and exit the truck.

"You're not Bella," are the first words that greet you.

"Nope. That would be my younger sister." You attempt to avoid gazes, quickly scanning their faces. With as quick as you look over them, not one face is familiar to you. However, you are a little suspicious of their matching tattoos and the fact they're shirtless in such cold temperatures. More weirdness, but this wasn't something Charlie had warned you about. Not like he did with your sister and her new family. "Is, uh, is Billy home? I come bearing food for him."

"Y/N?"

The guys before you seem to part as another one steps forward. You meet his dark eyes straight on and it's like a light bulb goes off over your head. "Jacob?" He smiles and you allow yourself a short laugh of disbelief. "No way. You're all grown up!"

"That does tend to happen as the years pass by."

"Shut up. I just- I'm surprised is all. You're not supposed to be taller than me." You then pout.

"Yeah, well.." Someone clears their throat and Jacob suddenly remembers that they have an audience. "Oh. Right. Y/N these are my friends Jared, Embry, Paul, and Sam. Guys, this is Y/N. She's Charlie Swan's first born."

You meet each and every one of their gazes now, nodding in greeting, but it's the last face- Sam?- that has you momentarily freezing. His expression seems to instantly drop when your gazes connect, but you're the first to collect yourself and look elsewhere. "Um, right." You drawl, suddenly finding it hard to keep your gaze from darting back to Sam. "So Billy?"

Everyone's gaze seems to be darting between you and Sam, smiles slowly forming into teasing smirks as they nudge and push their friend.

"Yeah, he's inside," Jacob says. "I'll just- lets go."

As Jacob leads you into his home, calling out his father's name, you can't help but ask, "So, Sam..?"

He chuckles. "First day back on the Rez and already you have a crush?"

"Shut up. I just- it was weird. Don't get me wrong, all your friends are oddly attractive, but Sam-"

"Was it love at first sight?" He teases.

"You might be taller than me, J, but I will sit on you and push your face into the sand like that one time." He leads you through his house and towards the kitchen, calling out for his dad once again. "And besides, he might be cute, but I'm not exactly in any position to attempt dating."

"No?"

"Not at all. Talk to your dad, I'm sure mine has already told him all the sordid details of my return."

Jacob opens his mouth to reply, but the appearance of Billy has him stalling. "Y/N! Charlie told me you'd be stopping by."

"Hello, Billy. I hope you're hungry."

Two days later is the next time you see Sam. Though Forks has its very own supermarket, the one down in La Push has cheaper prices for the same quality type of products. But not only that, La Push has always held a special place in heart since that's where your mother was born and you rather your money spent goes towards the smaller community.

So as you're pushing your cart down the aisles of La Push's supermarket, it's there you run into Sam. Literally, almost.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry!" You say, choking down a laugh when Sam's immediate glare shifts into a smile upon seeing you. "I was too busy staring at the shelves rather than where I was walking."

"It's okay. Y/N, right? Charlie's daughter?"

"Yes. And you're Sam." He seems to stand a little taller upon you remembering who he was. "Almost didn't recognize you with a shirt on."

"Ha. Ha." Sam shifts his handheld basket from one hand to the other, his gaze then dropping to your half filled basket. "What brings you down to La Push? I'm pretty sure Forks has their own grocery store."

You shrug. "To be honest, if I had to choose between either La Push or Forks, La Push wins hands down. I love it here," you say while smiling. "From what I remember, everyone was close knit and content to just be. But everyone in Forks- everyone wants to be in each other's business just to have something to spread as the latest gossip. If I'm going to spend mine or my dad's money, I'm going to spend it where I know it'll go towards a community I adore."

Sam smiles at that. "I like your honesty."

"Mhm. Well I, uh, I should get back to shopping. I don't wanna hold you up anymore than I already have."

"If you say so. It was nice to run into you, Y/N."

"Yeah. You too, Sam."

The both of you share a look a little longer than necessary before he reluctantly walks away, and you finish your shopping excursion with a smile on your face. And given that Sam only had a handheld basket of groceries, you're surprised to see him get in line behind you. You'd figured he'd be done shopping long before you, but apparently that wasn't the case.

You then bid Sam another goodbye before you walk out of the store, only to groan and curse your luck moments later when you realize your truck has a flat tire.

"Sonnuvabitch." You already know there's no jack or spare tire anywhere in the truck, so your mood instantly takes a nosedive.

"I would make a joke right about now, but you seem honestly upset and I don't want to piss you off."

You huff a laugh. "You know, learning how to change a flat would come in handy right about now if I actually had a spare to change the flat out with." Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Sam grinning at you. "Today just isn't my day it seems."

"Need a hand?"

"Yes, but I don't want to rope you into this mess."

"Oh you're not roping next into anything," Sam muses. "I was just going to give you a lift after making a call to Paul and Jared. They can pick up the truck, fix the tire, and then deliver it to Charlie's for you."

You shake your head, amused. "Are you sure? I don't wanna step on toes."

"It's fine. They'll be glad to take some time off from their normal duties. Just leave your keys in the visor and you can follow me to my truck."

Grateful to not have to mess with the truck yourself, you place the truck keys in the visor and then reclaim your shopping basket to follow after Sam. He places a call to his guys, telling them the problem and where to leave the truck, and even helps you load your groceries into the bed of his own truck.

"Thanks for this, Sam. Really," you say after hopping into his passenger seat.

"Don't even worry about it. If you continue to shop in La Push rather than Forks, you'll be seeing a lot more of me."

He flashes you a smirk and you can't help but return it. The drive is relatively silent, but Sam somehow manages to sneak in a few questions to learn more about you without making you feel like a bug under a microscope. And by the time you pull up to your house, the two of you are laughing as he helps you grab all your bags from the bed of his truck to take inside.

Before you can even open the front door, however, Charlie is pulling it open.

"Y/N and.. Sam. This is a surprise."

"Hey, dad. Truck got a flat down in La Push and luckily for me Sam was there. His friends will be bringing the truck when they have time."

"Super."

You roll your eyes at Charlie's sarcasm, he then winking as Sam chuckles. "Chief, if you got a minute, I'd like to speak with you. Privately."

Sam seems to convey some sort of message with body language and expression, and Charlie stands a little taller. "Of course."

"Right," you then drawl, gaze darting between the two men. "I'll just get started on dinner while you two chat. And Sam? Thank you. I'm seriously going to have to make you and whatever boys help you some lunch one of these days as a proper thank you."

"Oh. You don't have to."

"I want to. Now stop refusing my kind gesture and talk to my dad about whatever it is you need to talk about."

You show Sam where he can drop the bags and then proceed to take everything to the kitchen yourself. You get the urge to eavesdrop when Sam closes the front door after Charlie's joined him outside, but decide against it and start prepping dinner as you said you would.

Charlie joins you some fifteen minutes later and you smile when you seem him studying you curiously. "What?"

"Nothing," he muses. Your eyes narrow as he takes a casual stance against the door jamb, arms crossing over his chest. "So Sam Uley, huh?"

"Don't."

"What? In all my years, I've never seen Sam smile the way he did earlier."

"He's just being friendly is all."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Well whether he's friendly or has ulterior motives, I approve. Sam's a good guy."

Groaning, you can't help but chuckle. "Okay, dad. I'll keep that in mind."

Lunch with Sam, Jared, and Paul proved to be a rather delightful event. Sam had been nervous about something from the moment they showed up, and Paul and Jared made it their mission to tease him every chance they got. The homemade hamburgers and fries were a hit with the three of them, and they seemed to be relieved when you didn't comment on how much they ate.

From that day on it seemed like the flood gates had opened and the boys were dropping by more often than not, introducing you to the rest of their close knit group. Charlie found it all rather amusing, especially when the boys and Sam were comfortable enough to show up in nothing but a pair of jean shorts, and you found yourself welcoming the distraction no matter if Sam kept making you blush.

He visited frequently and it was on one of his late night visits that you found yourself truly opening up to him. Sam knew a bit about why you'd come back to Charlie's, but he didn't know the extent of all that you did or how much you struggled in and after rehab. He seemed alarmingly upset about your suffering all alone when you were away and then promised to be there should you ever feel yourself slipping into old habits. You were touched about how genuine he seemed that you found yourself hugging him before he went home.

And it was there, in Sam Uley's overly warm embrace, that you realized you were royally screwed.

Being back at Charlie's and finding a healthy rhythm lifts a weight off your shoulders. With Charlie now a constant in your life, as well as your sister who checks in every other day by calling or texting, it was a lot easier to remain on the straight and narrow while also making them proud. Even Sam had turned into a constant, and while you were grateful for his presence and friendship when Charlie was at work, you had to have the uncomfortable conversation with him that friendship was all that you could currently offer him when you took notice of his too fond expressions when he thought you weren't looking.

And Sam, being the gentle giant that he was, assured you he would take whatever you offered. Your refusal of whatever affections he might have held for you didn't seem to put a damper on his continuous pop-ups and you were secretly relieved.

Today, however, is a day that Charlie and Sam are going to be busy which means you'll be all alone for quite some time. So after quickly packing a bag of snacks, water, and a compass and a map, you decide to explore the woods behind your home. The beginning of the woods just behind your home is somewhat familiar, but the further you walk in, the more you realize you've never been this far out.

You manage to keep track of your whereabouts using the map, marking certain spots on it with a pencil. And around eleven you decide to take a break, sitting on a log near a meadow and eating some of the snacks you had packed.

Then just after you've packed your leftovers and are taking a sip from your water bottle, you see a figure standing just on the opposite side of the meadow. Swallowing your drink and capping off the bottle, you hesitantly stand and call out. "Hello? Are you lost or something, mister?"

Your eyesight isn't the best, but you do manage to make out the guy tilting his head in a curious manner. And the fact that he closes the distance between the both of you within the blink of an eye. Yelping, you step backwards and trip over the log you'd been sitting on.

The man with blood red eyes and too pale skin tuts mockingly at you while slowly crouching before you. "Such a fragile little thing. You should be more careful, darling."

Heart pounding furiously, you stare with wide, terrified eyes. "W-What are you?"

He smirks. "A living nightmare."

Faster than your gaze can keep track of, the man reaches out and grips your left forearm in a bone crushing grip. You scream as you feel your arm break and before you can even comprehend what's going on, you're airborne and then landing with a pained shout. Your vision is blurry with all the tears you're crying and you cradle your injured arm to your chest as you curl up on your side. Deep laughter resonates around the meadow and you scream when he grabs you by the shoulder to push you onto your back.

"Why are you doing this?" You sob.

His then red eyes are now pitch black. "Because, my dear, I'm absolutely starved." His top lip curls back as he hisses and he raises his arm to strike. Another sob breaks free and you clamp your eyes shut as to not see the killing blow.

But before he can strike, a heart stopping snarl seems to cease all noise in the meadow. Your eyes fly open to see the man now frozen above you, he staring at something across the meadow and out of your sight. You're too scared to look for what has the monster above you frozen scared, especially when wolf-like howls rip through the air. Everything is calm and quiet for a split second, and then a snarl to your right has your head whipping in that direction.

Faster than the monster above you can move, an overly large black wolf clamps his jaw around the monster's upper torso and rips him from you. You scream and try your best to roll away from the snarls, the screaming, and the howling. More wolves join the black wolf in a frenzy of ripping apart the man who was set on killing you and then the most beautiful sound reaches your ears.

"Y/N!"

Your heart freezes and you turn towards the voice. "S-Sam?" He jogs up to you, barefoot and wearing nothing but jean shorts, and a look of utter horror on his face. "Sam, you need to go. Run! There's this man and these wolves, and they- he.." you trail off, looking towards where the wolves last were. But only there are no wolves. Not anymore. Instead there stands Jared, Paul, Quil, and Embry- all barefoot, shirtless, and shielding their crotches in front of a roaring fire. "What's going on?" You then murmur.

Sam crouches next to you. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, expression pained. "I should have warned you sooner, but I didn't know how to tell you. This is all my fault."

"Tell me what?"

Suddenly torn about his mental musings, Sam gulps and shakes his head clear. "Not now. I need to get you to Carlisle Cullen. He can help me explain what it is that's happened here."

You frown. "Carlisle? What does my sister's father-in-law have to do with this?"

"Sam!" Paul suddenly calls out. "The leech has been contacted. He's expecting us."

You look at Sam for an answer yet again, but still he refuses. "Not now. Please bear with me, Y/N. It'll all be explained soon."

Everything in you is raging to demand answers now, but his expression breaks your heart. "O-okay."

Vampires. Vampires existed and one tried to eat you.

But not only that, shapeshifting werewolves were also a thing and you just so happened to be the soulmate- er, imprint- of one. But not just any werewolf. No. Life had to go and complicate things, and make you the soulmate to Sam. Which yeah, learning Sam was an alpha of one of the packs protecting Quileute lands? Total mind fuck. And while you were absolutely terrified of the one vampire who tried to make a snack out of you, you couldn't let that one experience paint your view of all vampires. Paul and Jared had tried to assure you that you should think all vampires were the enemy, but you couldn't believe that- not when your sister and her new family were vampires themselves. Vegetarian vampires, but vampires nonetheless.

You had then managed five days of no contact with Sam or the boys after the impromptu meeting put together by the Tribe leaders to properly explain the wolves' duties, and to be honest it was probably the most five miserable days you've experienced since rehab. You had texted with Sam as to not totally cut him out, but it just wasn't the same. So when Charlie took notice and expressed his concerns, you readily agreed to have Sam over so you could talk face to face.

Charlie's at work when Sam shows up and as soon as the door is open you're stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his waist. With the side of your face pressed against his chest, you feel him exhale with relief before his arms wrap around your shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." His voice sounds rough and you squeeze him a little tighter. "It's a lot to wrap your head around."

"Funny thing is I got over you being a wolf and the whole imprint thing days ago. It was the vampire part that left me questioning everything I knew and the fact that my doctor is a freakin' vampire."

Sam chuckles. "I'm not a fan of the leeches, but Doctor Carlisle has proven himself a friend of the packs. We trust him. Mostly."

Realizing the hug has lasted a little too long, you step back with a sheepish smile and gesture him inside. He follows you into the living room and you both take a seat on the couch, side by side. Then picking your feet up onto the cushions and wrapping your arms around bent knees as to not reach out to touch Sam, you say, "So I know we texted a bit about the whole imprint thing, but what exactly are you looking for with me?"

Sam inhales deeply as he rubs his hands along the tops of his thighs. "Whatever you want, Y/N. If you want to remain friends, we can. I'll just be that protective presence which would no doubt annoy you the first relationship you hop into." He says this with a smile, but you can see the forcefulness of it and it actually sends a pang a hurt through you.

"What if- what if I don't want to be just friends?" You ask. Swallowing thickly, you turn your head to meet Sam's wary expression. "What if I want more? Eventually, of course."

Sam actually blinks in surprise before a slow smile curls the corner of his lips. "If you want more, I'd be happy to offer you that too. We'll take things as slow as you need to."

"Thanks, Sam. It's just I'm still kind of-"

"Hey, hey," he shushes you politely, reaching out and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "You don't owe me an explanation. You're my imprint and the most important thing to me is your well being. I know what led you back here, so if you say you need to go slow, we'll go slow. I'm more than okay with that."

You take the time to really look at him and this time it's your turn to smile. "My dad's gonna be stoked, 'ya know? He's been singing your praises since you brought me home that first time when my truck had a flat. He's actually the one who made me realize I needed to call you over."

"I always knew I liked Charlie."

"Mhm." Letting your feet touch the ground once more, you grin. "So I know you've been here less than twenty minutes, but I need to go into vampire territory now." Sam tenses and you quietly huff. "Behave. Carlisle's gonna take a look at my arm and see how long I actually need to be in this stupid cast," you say while moving your broken arm to draw attention to it. "I don't want to be wearing this for my sister's second wedding. It'll clash with my dress."

"I know the Cullen's are some of the nicer bunch, but it still doesn't sit right with me that my imprint is walking into a leech lair."

"Then don't think of them as leeches. Think of them as my family because that's what they are. Well at least Edward is, but yeah. I talk mostly with Edward and Alice, and Carlisle and Esme are the most loving couple I've ever seen. You don't have anything to worry about."

"I know, but try telling that to my wolf."

"You can always go with me if that'll make you feel better."

"It would, but my patrol shift starts in less than ten."

"Then I go alone. I'll text you as soon as I'm back in my truck. Promise."

"That actually makes me feel a little bit better."

With nothing else left to say, you and Sam prepare to leave- you to the Cullen's and he back to La Push. After helping you into your jacket, Sam then makes sure you're actually capable of driving with a broken arm. And once knowing you are, he crowds into your space for yet another hug and a kiss to your hairline.

"You can come over tonight. Right?" You ask.

"Of course. Charlie grilling?"

"Yep. I'll see you later then."

"See you later."

The drive to Cullen territory has now become familiar to you and you get there in no time. Out on the front steps, Edward is waiting for you in all his sparkling glory since he knew it greatly amused you.

"Hey, Sparkles, how's it hanging?"

He chuckles at the nickname and steps back out of the sunlight. "Just fine. How are you, Y/N?"

"Honestly? I could be better. I don't like the cast."

"Well lucky for you the break wasn't too bad. Carlisle thinks you'll only have the cast for six weeks."

"God I hope so." You walk up the steps and let Edward lead you inside the home. "So where's my sister?"

"She and the rest of the girls took Nessie to shop for a flower girl dress. Emmett and Jasper are out hunting, so it'll only be Carlisle and I here with you."

"Your brothers don't have to leave when I come over," you say with a small huff. "I already explained to Sam that just because I'm his imprint I won't stop keeping company with your family. After all, you're my family now too."

Edward's brow raises in surprise. "And how did Sam react to that?"

"He growled," you muse, "but he tried to play it off. I told him to come with me now, but his patrol shift was about to start. And speaking of Sam," you then trail off as Carlisle appears with a smile, wheeling an x ray machine behind him, "is it okay to have him as my plus one for your second wedding?"

"Of course." You beam at Edward and he nods, gesturing towards the door. "I'll leave you and Carlisle to it then."

As Edward leaves, Carlisle gestures for you to take a seat where he's now set up. "For what it's worth, I think you'll be quite happy with Sam. He's a great man and protector."

"Carlisle, please stop hitting on my wolf." There's a snort from the other room and you grin. "So what am I looking at doc? Edward mentioned something about six weeks and then I'm free?"

"The severity of the break usually tells me how long you'll need to remain in a cast, and fortunately for you it wasn't too severe. Depending on how fast you heal, you should be out within six or seven weeks."

"Awesome." Then before Carlisle can comprehend what you're thinking or even doing, you touch the tip of your nose with your pointer finger. "Not it on telling Alice the wedding has to be pushed back another two weeks!"

Carlisle gapes and just then Edward rushes into the room, his finger on the tip of his nose as well. "Not it."

The Cullen patriarch glances between you and his first turned son, eyes rolling fondly. "We'll just get Jasper to break the news."

As the weeks progress, Charlie's house seems to become hangout central for Sam's pack. At first you thought your dad would be annoyed by the ever presence of shirtless young men parading around his house, but seeing as they provided money for groceries and seemed to fix whatever plumbing problem Charlie suddenly found, your dad was more than willing to put up with them. But not only that, Charlie now had a group of boys to watch and talk sports with, and you knew he was a lot happier than he led on.

Then the day before the wedding, your cast came off and Alice readily made calls to their cousins up in Alaska and sent out invitations to a select few others- Jacob, Billy, Seth, Charlie, Sue, yourself, and Sam. Others had been invited, but Jacob nor Sam felt comfortable leaving the borders free, so Leah, Embry, and Quil opted to remain on patrol rather than attend the wedding.

The morning of, you were whisked away by an apologetic Jasper and a grinning Emmett. You quickly texted Sam so he wouldn't panic and then left with boys. Alice did your makeup, Rosalie your hair, and Esme showed you to your dress while your sister laughed at your misfortune of being their doll this time around.

Alice reminds you that you'll be giving a speech as the bride's older sister and you momentarily panic. You had forgotten about the speech and have absolutely nothing planned.

"You can always sing a song," Edward muses while you pace what apparently used to be his bedroom. "Renee sang a song, but it was- it wasn't exactly the best."

You snort and then chuckle, your amusement slowly dwindling as you look at Edward in surprise. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. I'm not the best singer, but Bella and I used to love this one song.." You start humming, swaying slightly, hoping he'll know it. He does.

"Can't Help Falling in Love," he says with a faint grin. "Elvis Presley."

"Yes! I'll just- I need to find the music online. I doubt the band can play the version I want to sing. Is that okay?"

"Of course." You're brought a laptop and after finding the music to the song you want to sing, Edward quickly downloads it to have it prepared for after your speech.

Then as you're waiting for Sam to show up, you mentally practice singing the song in your head, praying you remember the lyrics correctly. But as you're singing, Sam keeps popping into your mind. You can't help but picture walking towards Sam at one point in the song, reaching out to him and letting the song help you tell him you're in love with him. You haven't told him you loved him, only relying on your actions so far, but the song is the perfect opportunity to finally say the words out loud.

"Do it." You startle at Edward's sudden appearance, brow furrowing. You almost forgot he could read minds. "I'm sure Sam would like to hear it."

"Yeah, but it's your wedding. Isn't it inappropriate for me to do that?"

"Not really. Bella and I have already had our day. Let us help you do this."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now go out front. I can hear Sam's truck coming up the driveway."

Sam shows up only slightly disgruntled, tie hanging loosely around his neck and suit jacket left unbuttoned. You whistle at him and he glares up until he realizes it's you. You laugh. "Rough day?"

"Something like that." Sam stops just at the bottom of the steps, staring up at you and taking in the dark green dress hanging off your frame. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You clean up nice yourself." As Sam joins you on the step you're standing on, he reaches out to bring you into his arms. You settle in his embrace after kissing his cheek in greeting, arms wrapped low around his waist. "By the way, I have to give a speech so don't start growling when I eventually leave your side."

He sighs. "At least the only leeches invited are all vegetarians."

"Shush," you huff a quiet laugh. "Don't call them that when they're in hearing distance."

"Vegetarians?"

Pulling back, you playfully swat at him. "You know which word I mean. Stupid doesn't suit you."

Sam smiles before taking your hand in his own, he then heading towards the front door. "I apologize. Some habits are harder to break."

"I know. At least you're trying though."

- X - X - X - X - X -

The wedding itself is very beautiful and you're shocked at how quickly the backyard was transformed into the perfect wedding venue. Even Sam seemed surprised and Charlie took great amusement in your awed expression, but not as much amusement as you shared when you realized Charlie was hiding his girlfriend from you right under your nose. Sue Clearwater was a soft spoken woman with a hidden fiery attitude, and she was the perfect woman for your father.

The ceremony itself is rather quick given they were already married and then everyone is moved to yet another part of Cullen property where a newly installed dance floor is covered with a tent of white flowers.

The wedded couple have their first dance all over again, with the addition of their daughter, and then Alice is up on stage and calling you up to give a speech. Sam fidgets in his seat, but after grabbing his hand and giving him a reassuring squeeze, he calms and releases you to perform your sisterly duty.

Then stepping up to the microphone once on stage, you nervously chuckle as all eyes are on you. "First of all, I just want to thank the Cullen's for making Edward and Bella have a second wedding since I missed their first one." Alice preens as the rest of her family throw a mock glare in her direction and the rest of the guests all express their amusement. "So as you all probably know by now, I am Bella's older sister. Unfortunately I have no embarrassing stories to tell since we only got to see each other when we spent summers together when we visited our dad-" Emmett boos and you laugh, "but I can tell you what I thought when I first heard she was marrying the kid she dated since her junior year of high school."

"Oh this oughta be good," you hear Emmett chortle.

"I remember- I remember my sister calling me in tears one day. She asked me if she smelt bad and I laughed, but through her tears she told me that this boy at school acted as if she were the most awful smelling individual he'd ever come across and that he actually tried switching out of their shared classes."

"I apologized!"

"I know you did, Sparkles, and I've already forgiven you." The small crowd chuckles. "But then a week later my sister was singing a different tune. Edward was suddenly the most amazing person ever and she was passed smitten, already claiming to be in love with him. I thought she was being utterly ridiculous and that her hormones were getting the best of her for the first time, but she assured me that wasn't the case. Well," you trail off, grinning, "she did tell me, repeatedly might I add, that she wanted to jump-"

"Not another word!"

Grinning deviously, you hold your hands up in mock surrender as your dad groans and everyone else looks rather amused at Bella's panic. Emmett and Jasper are urging you to continue, but you know she'll only release something embarrassing about you if you do. Instead, you start walking towards the laptop that Edward set up for you which is already connected to the speakers around the area. All you have to do is press play. "So now that I know how perfect Edward is for my sister, I don't feel bad for my early assessment of thinking them fools in love. And speaking of fools," you press play, letting the chords of a guitar play an all too familiar tune, "I thought I'd sing a little something for them. And don't worry, I'm not as terrible a singer as Bella's mother."

More laughter rings out and you unhook the microphone from its stand. It's a wireless one, so you're free to walk around the stage. Then finding your spot near the edge of the stage, you nod at Edward who readily takes your sister's hand in his and leads her to the middle of the dance floor. Bella is grinning and you breathe a little easier, inhaling deeply just in time to sing.

"Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you." You sing it slow and a little raspy, and you mentally applaud yourself when you see the small crowd all perk up in surprise. "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you."

More couples join Edward and Bella on the floor, half lovingly staring into each other's eyes as you sing while others watch you. "Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be…"

The music trails off, the lights dim only to be replaced by twinkling fairy lights entwined with the flowers, and as you step off the stage the crowd parts which leaves you a straight shot to Sam who's staring at you in wonder. Jacob and Seth, who'd sat with you at your table, gleefully nudge Sam into standing when they realize what you're doing.

You walk towards Sam and Bella squeezes your shoulder in support as you pass her by. "So take my hand," you grab his hand, smiling through tears as you pull him into your space, "take my whole life too for I can't help falling in love with you. For I can't help falling in love with you."

As the song ends, everyone applauds. There's whistling and whoops of cheer, and you briefly turn around to bow and thank everyone. Alice takes the microphone from you to direct the attention back on her and you feel a tug on your hand once everyone else is distracted. Sam gestures to the side and you follow him out of sight.

"You planned that," he eventually says.

Gulping nervously, you shrug. "I did. I just- it popped into my head right before you got here and Edward helped me quickly put it together."

"Do you mean it? You love me?"

"Sam.." You reach up to cup the side of his face, bringing his gaze down to yours. "I would never say those words- well, sing it in this case- without meaning them. You have been patient with me, and kind, and I- I fell in love." You chuckle, sniffling. "I love you, Sam, and I'm sorry I'm so awkward and told you in front of every-"

Sam immediately leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You smile, returning his kiss, and just breath him in when he then rests his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I love you too."

AN: If you want to hear how the song was sung, Youtube: Can’t Help Falling in Love by Kina Grannis. It’s the version of the song that’s in the movie Crazy Rich Asians. Watching that movie actually inspired this. Haha.

#fanficimagery #imagine #sam uley x reader #sam uley imagine #twilight imagine #new moon imagine #eclipse imagine #breaking dawn imagine #sam uley #bella swan #charlie swan #edward cullen #carlisle cullen #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

954 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

Field of Poppies Part 16

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 16: Some news comes to Amelia and she’s not sure how to handle it without Tommy by her side.

Two more months went by. Amelia heard often from Tommy. Every week or two she received a letter and replied immediately. She told him about everything she could think of. Anything that might bring a smile to his face, to ease his burden. Whatever she could do to remind him of home and give him hope for the future. She told him the funny things Max did, the little quirks in his blossoming personality.

He refuses to go to bed unless I’ve checked under his bed for monsters. I think Finn might have been telling him some stories.

He’s fascinated by baby Wilbur. I don’t think he believes me when I tell him he was a baby once. His reasoning is, if he can’t remember it, it never happened. I showed him the photograph of when he was a baby, only six months old. He couldn’t be convinced that it was him.

It’s strange. It feels so long ago, yet, it only feels like it was yesterday. I often wonder where all that time went.

~~~~~~

“Breakfast, Mel?” Martha was in the kitchen when Amelia and Max came into Six Watery.

She went to answer that, no she wasn't feeling very well so she didn't have much of an appetite. But instead, she was immediately hit with a strong smell. Her stomach turned and she dropped Max’s hand so she could rush upstairs to the bathroom.

Polly heard retching from down the hall, so went to investigate. “Oh, heavens.” She found Amelia at the toilet. “Easy.” She soothed and pulled the young woman’s hair back away from her face. Dread came over the woman as she realized her earlier intuitions were confirmed. “Dear, I think you and I need to have a talk.”

~~~~~~~

“Letter, Tom.”

Tommy took the letter from the passing soldier and felt relief wash over him. The same relief he got every time Amelia’s letters arrived. Despite being in the middle of trench warfare, he had her letters to keep him sane.

Tommy,

I must admit it hasn’t gotten much easier these last few weeks. I still miss you more than I can ever describe. Everything reminds me of you. Max always asks for you. It’s hard to bear sometimes. But I manage to get through every day.

I have news. I want so desperately to be happy but I’m so heartbroken that you aren’t here so I can tell you in person. But Polly believes I’m pregnant. It may be too early to know, but I don’t want to question her either. The signs seem to match up with the timing.

I don’t know how to feel any more if I’m being honest. I need to hear back from you as soon as possible. I hope you and everyone else is safe. I miss you all. I will write you a longer letter when I've gathered my thoughts. But for now, I needed you to hear the news.

Love, Amelia

Tommy wasn’t sure what to say as he stared blankly at his wife's handwriting. The urgency he felt to return home was only heightened. He carefully folded up the letter and put it in his rucksack.

“Tom?” Arthur was sitting nearby, his back up against the wall of the trench.

“Mel’s pregnant.” He replied before his brother even needed to ask what was wrong.

He frowned and passed his brother a cigarette. “You think she’s going behind your back while you’re away?”

“No.” Tommy shook his head adamantly. He took the cigarette and lit it with a match. “She’d never do that. Never. It makes sense, I suppose.” He mumbled to himself. “She’d be about three months along.”

Arthur nodded. “Well, guess we can try to get you back by the time the baby’s born.” He smiled slightly, trying to give his brother hope.

But there was little hope left in the trenches. In those damn tunnels. At that point, Tommy could only hope he found his way back to Birmingham alive. Asking for anything else would be wishful.

~~~~~~~~~~

Around five at night, Polly closed up the betting shop. The other girls had gone home but Martha and Amelia remained.

“Well, Pol, you did say she could have the next baby,” Martha said, trying to keep the atmosphere light. In all other times, the news of a baby would be such a happy occasion. But those days, nothing seemed to be good news.

Amelia tried to laugh but she couldn’t even muster a smile. Every muscle in her body felt heavy. There was no use trying anymore. “I feel like such a monster.” She mumbled.

“Why?” Her sister-in-law asked.

“Because I don’t want to be pregnant.” She put down her pencil to rub her tired eyes. “I don’t want to be pregnant without Tommy here. I’m not ready to raise two children alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Polly insisted as she walked over to the table, setting the keys down.

“You know what I mean.”

Martha looked to Polly, sharing a concerned look. It would only be a harder pregnancy if Amelia fought herself the whole time. They couldn’t make it any easier for her though. They couldn’t magically wish Tommy home. If they could, the war would’ve ended weeks ago. It never would have started to begin with.

“You told him?” Polly asked, sitting down.

“I sent a letter two days ago. I haven’t told Max. I don’t know what to even say.”

“You don’t have to think about it right away. You have plenty of time.”

Amelia nodded but she disagreed. Six months wasn’t enough time. She hoped every day that she’d get the news Tommy was coming home. But for whatever reason, maybe common sense, she didn’t see him home by the time six months was up. With every passing day, it felt like more and more time would pass before she saw him again.

Tears flooded her eyes as the worst scenarios came to the forefront of her mind. “What if it’s years?” She let out a quiet sob. “What would I ever say to the child? What if he never comes home?”

“Hush, now.” Polly wrapped an arm around her. “There’s no need to think of such things.” She soothed even though she knew these things were not outside the realm of possibilities. “You know that stress will only make things more difficult for you. You need to remain optimistic. You have a family that will be with you the whole way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia’s image kept invading Tommy’s nightmares. This would be startling alone because he never associated her with terror. She had always been a dream come true. But in the trenches, she joined his worst fears.

He saw her face on the soldiers who he’d seen die. He heard her voice screaming for him from the depths of the tunnels. The worst one came after a few days of little to no sleep. He finally got a chance for shut-eye and his worst fears descended upon him.

Amelia had come into view, looking as she normally did back home. But in her arms, she was carrying Max.

Help

Max was torn apart, almost as if he was mauled by a wild animal. Blood poured down Amelia’s arms as she carried their son to him.

Help

Tommy couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything to save his son.

Help

As she got closer, Tommy could see Max was still alive. His eyes were open and he was breathing.

Daddy?

Tommy awoke in a cold sweat, screaming. It took both Jeremiah and Danny to quiet him and stop him from thrashing around. From that point on, Tommy never wanted to sleep again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hold still, Max.”

“Mummy, I want to see it!”

“No, love, this isn’t our camera. We can’t break it. Now, please stay still.”

“Mummy, I won’t break it, I wanna see it!”

“Max.” Amelia looked up from the camera lens with a stern look. “I said no. Now please, stand still. If you’re moving all over the place then the photograph will come out blurry.”

The little boy crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. His mother raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that what you want to send to daddy? You want to send him a photograph of you making a face?” It was difficult to be frustrated with him. Such a sweet little boy with chocolate-colored waves of hair and lovely hazel eyes. Even when he made such a face, he was precious. Truly, he was the apple of Amelia’s eye.

Max pulled a pout for another few moments before deciding to smile.

“There’s a good boy. Now, stand still for just a second. I want to make sure it comes out perfect for daddy.”

It had been a week and she had yet to hear back from Tommy regarding her letter about the pregnancy. But Amelia was trying to stay optimistic. It usually took a week for the letter to get to Tommy, and another week to get a response, should he write back immediately. Usually, he did. But she figured that maybe this time, he would need some time to think. It couldn’t be easy to process such information. Amelia was still having a hard time thinking about the baby and she wasn’t in the middle of an active battlefield.

She had already sent a picture of herself and Max before but they were ones she already had. The one of Max was only a few months after he was born. She borrowed a camera from a friend to send a more updated photograph.

~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days later, as she tucked the photographs into an envelope along with a letter, Amelia thought about what Tommy might do when he opened it. She longed to see the smile on his face when he saw the picture of Max doing his best to stay perfectly still for the camera. Maybe he would show the others around him. She longed to see the pride in his eyes when he told the other soldiers that was his son. His Max. Maybe he’d tell him the news. His Amelia was pregnant again. He’d be having another child. Perhaps he’d speculate. Wonder if it was a girl this time or another boy.

A teardrop fell onto the envelope as Amelia sat at her desk in the betting shop. If she couldn’t be there for him, to comfort him, then the least she could do was try to put a smile on his face. Even for the briefest of moments.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

48 notes · View notes

bemused-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Analysis of Subaru, Kamui, and Subaru/Kamui

Ever since I first read X/1999 I was of the Subaru/Kamui persuasion. The two have each suffered a great deal and went out of their way to support one another; every single scene they have is of them doing just that as best they can. And since I have returned to my X/1999 obsession with a vengeance, I figure it’s time to take a look at this ship–and the characters themselves–with everything I got. Technically, this is not a “confirmed” ship. Technically, there are a lot of unconfirmed or implied ships floating around X/1999. I figure that's on account of CLAMP’s multishipping tendencies. Anyhow…

Before we get into this, I won't be taking Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles into account for two reasons: 1) It is an AU and therefore is supposed to give us an alternative look at the characters and 2) If I start including the plotlines of Tsubasa we will never finish this review. X/1999 is already plenty long. 8D I might do a separate post about their interactions in Tsubasa once I reread that manga, though.

With that out of the way, let’s take a look. One of the most obvious things people have to say about these two is that they’re reflections of each other. They’ve been through similar experiences and similar traumas. Their reactions to those experiences are quite different, however, and goes a long way towards explaining why they take separate paths later in the series. Let’s start with their first meeting.

When Subaru first meets Kamui, it’s literally at the worst phase of Kamui’s life. His best friend, Fuuma, has just had his brain washed thanks to fate (!) and the woman he loved, Kotori, was murdered by said best friend right before his eyes. As if all that wasn’t bad enough, he was nearly killed by Fuuma as well, which took on a weird, sexual vibe, which becomes pretty consistent on Fuuma’s part throughout the series.

All of this is extremely similar to what Subaru endured at Seishirou’s hands in Tokyo Babylon years earlier (although the sexual component with Seishirou is toned down quite a bit in comparison). There are some notable differences in circumstance, however, and these circumstances are important to understanding the fundamental differences between Subaru and Kamui themselves. As Subaru says, their pain isn’t the same.

The most pertinent difference between the two is the cause that led them into a coma in the first place and what ultimately brought them out of it. For Subaru, the betrayal and abuse at the hands of the man he loved is what sent him into a coma while the death of his sister, the other person he loved most, is what brought him out of it. In other words, traumatic shock put him into a coma and traumatic shock forced him out of it. There wasn't a single moment that wasn't painful.

For Kamui, it’s quite different. The death of the woman he loved along with the betrayal and abuse at the hands of his best friend is what sent him into the coma. It was doubly traumatic because Kamui lost everything all at once. This is a big part of why Sorata was so worried Kamui would never wake up; he literally had nothing tying him to reality. The only two people he'd ever had a significant bond with were both gone in one fell swoop. The only reason he emerged from this is, of course, because of Subaru’s intervention.

Perhaps the only reason Kamui is even slightly well-adjusted is thanks to the much gentler wake-up call he had in comparison to Subaru. Frankly, after Hokuto died, Subaru didn't have anyone for nine years. It's no wonder he dwelled on nothing but Seishirou, barely managed his duties as head of the Sumeragi clan, and developed a suicidal wish to keep him going.

Kamui has Subaru, so he managed to avoid a lot of that. He's still obsessed with Fuuma, but he has other things to occupy his time with.

Some other differences in Subaru and Kamui's backstory to keep in mind: Seishirou was acting like a good guy in Tokyo Babylon. Fate had absolutely nothing to do with his transformation into a bad guy; that's just how he is. Fuuma actually was a good person who had the good persona wiped away and replaced with ... his fated personality, I suppose. I think this explains some of Kamui's stubbornness when it comes to rescuing Fuuma; he knows fate isn't fair and Fuuma was a victim of it.

Subaru has no such delusions. He knows Seishirou was playing him for a fool and he knows he has no regrets about it. It's why his wish isn't to fix Seishirou; it's merely to die at his hands, so he can finally let go of the whole thing.

And Subaru does his best to keep himself at a distance from his fellow Dragons of Heaven for the sake of this endeavor. He doesn't really befriend any of them or spend any real amount of time with them; he knows his wish will bring nothing but pain to anyone that cares for him, so he tries to avoid those attachments. I suspect we wouldn't have heard much from Subaru in this series if he hadn't become unexpectedly attached to Kamui himself.

So, let's get back to their first meeting. Kamui is in a coma and Subaru delves into his memories in order to help him. This isn't the first time Subaru has done this, and there are a few parallels to his previous case to consider with this one.

In volume 2 of Tokyo Babylon, Subaru has to help a woman, Mitsuki, that he once knew that had fallen into a coma after being sexually assaulted. It's implied this is the first time Subaru has entered someone's mind to help them, and he comments it will be easier if she remembers him at least a little. He'd been dreaming of her earlier that very day.

Now, not only does Mitsuki remember him, it's revealed that she's harbored a crush on him since they were children. It's never made very clear whether or not Subaru returns those feelings, although there are some jokes from Seishirou that she is his rival in love. Regardless, Subaru saves a woman that considers him special and only emerges from her coma thanks to Subaru's kind words.

So, when Subaru enters Kamui’s mind, he knows it will be dangerous. Kamui doesn’t know him at all; there isn’t any kind of attachment to make this easier. But the end result is very similar to what we see in Tokyo Babylon: Kamui emerges both because of Subaru’s kind words, but also because he’s found someone that understands the pain he’s been through to some degree. Both Mitsuki and Kamui reverted to childhood in their sorrow as well, a time where things were much simpler and the world easier to understand.

There’s no doubt that Kamui considers Subaru special after this. How could he not? And if we compare Kamui’s case directly with Mitsuki’s there’s at least the implication he may grow to care for Subaru in a similar fashion to Mitsuki. CLAMP went out of there way to draw as many comparisons between Subaru’s past and Kamui’s present as they could within this series, so I think it’s fair to make this assumption.

It's also notable that Subaru's own feelings on the matter are harder to read in both situations. Did he have feelings for Mitsuki or was she simply a treasured friend from his past? Her words had haunted him for years at that point, so her opinion definitely mattered. Likewise, it's harder for us to tell what he thinks about Kamui. We can tell there's a deep bond and affection there, but it's not quite as straightforward.

The hug is actually quite important here. They held one another in the dreamscape and then continued to in reality. This is interesting because neither Subaru nor Kamui are physically affectionate people. Subaru only ever hugged his sister and maintains a kind of no-contact rule with people in general. He never initiated physical contact with Seishirou throughout Tokyo Babylon and definitely doesn't in X/1999. He doesn't go out of his way to pat his fellow Dragons of Heaven on the back the way Sorata does. The only exception is Kamui.

As for Kamui, he just … isn’t affectionate. 8D You’ll recall how crabby he was at the beginning of X/1999. He was pushing everyone away in a misguided attempt at protecting them. Then, one of the only notable times he initiated physical contact was when he held Kotori in his arms and cupped Fuuma’s cheek for the last time, and that was when he was incredibly distressed and finally willing to admit how much he cared about them both.

These are two people he’s known and trusted his whole life, so it makes sense he would allow some physical contact between them. Consider how he reacts to Sorata, Keiichi, evil!Fuuma, and pretty much anyone else that tries to initiate physical contact: it’s met with either confusion, overt hostility, or acceptance without reciprocation. Honestly, Sorata’s gotten all three of these reactions… 8D

The one exception is Subaru, who he not only accepts physical contact from, but will also initiate. So, the two of them are relatively similar in how they approach this, which is something we'll see throughout this review.

While Subaru was in Kamui’s dreamscape, they discuss several important things, such as the fact Kamui is trying to escape reality and the fact nothing will change or improve if he remains in the coma. He also explains his relationship with Seishirou and how things became much worse when he refused to leave the confines of his own mind.

But there’s a small detail CLAMP drops that I always found interesting.

This isn’t meant to show Kamui as naive. On the contrary, this is actually pretty wise and gets back to Subaru’s Shinto roots. Subaru is an onmyoji, a follower of onmyodo, which is a mix of Chinese philosophy (the five elements, yin-yang theory, etc.), Buddhism, and has elements of Japanese philosophy, i.e. Shintoism.

In Shinto, things really do have lives, and they deserve respect. It's yet another demonstration of how the Sakurazukamori are the opposite of the Sumeragi; they use these basic ideals and corrupt them. Things aren’t important, and neither are people.

So, in one fell swoop, Kamui has reminded Subaru of his own philosophy and demonstrated a fundamental difference between his worldview and Seishirou’s. Kamui is approaching things from a similar place Subaru would have when he was younger (it’s hard to say how much faith Subaru has in his own practice at this point; he’s pretty jaded).

Ultimately, Subaru asks Kamui several questions that give insight into both of their mindsets while they're in the dreamscape: If his [Fuuma’s] true self is restored, are you willing to tell him you killed Kotori? Even if it means he’ll hate you? Even if you must shoulder the blame for the rest of your life? Even if no one else will understand what you wished for and the reasons why?

It’s a pretty serious line of questioning because, in all honesty, what Kamui wants is dangerous. There’s no guarantee he can ever have it, and if he does attain his wish, no one will be spared the repercussions of it, least of all himself. In contrast, Subaru’s wish is a lot less destructive for the world as a whole, but he’s still hurting the people who care about him with it. Still, a lot of these questions are probably the same ones Subaru has had to ask himself over and over again. He knows no one will understand his own wish, that he will have to shoulder the blame for it, and that some could even hate him for valuing himself so little. He's making absolutely sure that Kamui understands the repercussions.

The thing is, while Kamui is willing to shoulder all the potential problems that might arise when Fuuma is restored, he's not at all prepared to think about whether this wish is what he actually wants or if it's even worth all the other problems that will arise from it. Subaru doesn't bring any of that up likely because he's never had to think of the whole planet with his wish. This is outside his own experience. He's doing his best for Kamui, but there are some things he simply won't understand. It's why he pointed out that his pain and Kamui's pain are different; there are some things they won't understand about each other, even with these similarities.

Our next important scene with Subaru and Kamui takes on a much less dramatic tone, which is probably for the best; there’s very little chill time in this series. 8D

Kamui has enrolled in high school due to its location being where the sword will be hidden until he has need of it. He visits Kotori’s grave, which is nearby, and then goes to study with Subaru, though a fellow classmate, Keiichi, had been trying to gain his attention.

For one brief, shining moment, it’s as if we’re in a completely different series where the world isn’t about to end…

But the first thing that’s interesting about this is that it means they must be conversing off screen if they’re making plans to meet up, which is a theme that becomes very common with these two. Unlike the bulk of the Dragons of Heaven, Subaru doesn't live in the same dormitory as Kamui, so they’d have to figure out some way of meeting up. I would have liked to see some of that planning and how often they meet up to study, but CLAMP leaves all that to the imagination.

At any rate, Subaru has enrolled in the college and Kamui is worried he will get in trouble for skipping class to help him.

There’s a lot that's wrong with this. First of all, Subaru is only enrolled in college because it’s a good way of tracking down Seishirou, which Kamui swiftly picks up on. This is incredibly sad because throughout Tokyo Babylon, Subaru had been trying very hard to graduate from high school so that he could then go to college and become a zookeeper. This complete lack of interest in college or anything he once cared about is constantly present and goes a long way towards explaining why Subaru cracks as the series progresses.

Kamui is always very quick to figure out when Subaru is thinking about the Sakurazukamori even though, outside of their first meeting, he never directly brings him up of his own accord. There isn’t a single time when Kamui looks happy about it either. The sheer frequency with which Kamui brings up the Sakurazukamori makes me think he’s constantly looking for confirmation that that man really is the only person Subaru cares about, as if Kamui is hoping one day he’ll give a different response.

At any rate, what Kamui is really taking issue with here is Subaru’s smoking and his attachment to the Sakurazukamori. Subaru says he smokes because it makes him more powerful (which is such… a lie? Does he think anyone would actually believe that?) to which Kamui has this as a response:

Kamui appears sad and disappointed at the answer because it is a disappointing answer (and a lie, but I digress) and Subaru looks surprised because… I think he was actually worried Kamui thought he would be ineffective as a Dragon of Heaven due to the smoking, that it would hinder him in battle. The fact Kamui is worried about his health didn’t even cross his mind.

Their exact exchange was this:

Kamui: But… don’t you worry that it’ll–

Subaru: It’s fine. Some people find that smoking weakens their powers, but for me it has the opposite effect.

He doesn’t let Kamui finish his sentence and immediately comes across as a little defensive about the whole thing. So, yeah, Subaru didn’t think Kamui would care because he cares about Subaru. He thought Kamui only cared as the Kamui, his leader. Realizing he was mistaken changes the rest of their dynamic for the duration of their study session. Subaru snuffs out the cigarette and resumes where they’d left off.

We don’t actually get to see the rest of the study session, though it's implied it goes on for a while. Keiichi interrupts things at some point because he is determined to hangout with Kamui. His reaction to Subaru is both amusing and kind of telling.

Keiichi’s repeated apologies to Subaru for interrupting and stealing Kamui away followed up by his comment that Subaru is good-looking to Kamui really makes it sound like he thought he was interrupting a date and/or that he thinks Kamui is interested in Subaru. Especially after he turns it all around by telling Kamui that he's really good looking as well and, as if that wasn’t enough, invites him to his house and offers to tutor him.

Uh… I’m just going to say it. Keiichi has never been subtle in regards to his massive crush on Kamui and he clearly thinks he’s stealing Kamui away from a potential love interest. 8D

My goodness. XD I really don’t think Kamui picked up on any of that dynamic. He just thinks Keiichi is friendly and kind of weird. It’s like Kamui has developed Sakura syndrome and Keiichi is Tomoyo.

As for Kamui, we get an idea of how he views Subaru thanks to this exchange and it's pretty interesting. It also explains pretty much every single one of Kamui's reactions to Subaru and why their interactions go the way they do.

There’s definitely a lot of fondness there. He agrees that Subaru is good looking and we get an actual image of how he sees him: someone who is ethereal, almost untouchable with a very literal barrier (of water from the dreamscape), but he's willing to reach out and bring Kamui to his level. He absolutely views Subaru as a savior because that’s precisely what Subaru did for him. That’s a pretty complicated relationship, quite a bit more complicated than Keiichi is thinking, that’s for sure.

As for Subaru, he resumes his smoking as soon as Kamui is out of sight. I think Kamui suspected that’s why he wanted to stay behind because he looks contemplative when Subaru says he isn’t coming with. Even Keiichi seems surprised. Maybe that’s why he thought he had a chance with Kamui? (Also, Keiichi and Kamui’s interactions kind of deserve their own analysis because he’s Kamui’s one tie to normalcy and Keiichi has a profound attachment to Kamui the second they meet.)

Even so, Kamui's words about smoking being bad for him sticks with Subaru and you can tell he's conflicted about it. He keeps the cigarettes close, but there's less certainty about it than there was earlier in their conversation.

This part in particular is up for interpretation since there’s no dialogue, but to me it reads as Subaru being unable to let Seishirou go, but possibly wishing he were capable of it. He knows his wish will hurt people, and Subaru has never been content with that. This scene also makes me think of Subaru's one-shot chapter, where a woman says only a person with an ill heart can go around thinking only of one person. Subaru knows smoking is bad for him, but he's also already accepted he's "ill."

I’m a little unclear on how much time has passed, but the next time Kamui and Subaru see each other, it’s after Kamui is returning home from Keiichi’s house. He’s attacked by Fuuma and Subaru rushes in to save him.

Subaru legitimately came out of nowhere in this scene. Where was he before? How'd he get there so quickly? I know that the Dragons of Heaven can sense when a kekkai is raised, but Kamui can't raise one, so... I honestly can't remember, can the Dragons of Heaven just sense when Kamui is in danger? Because if not, I really don't know how Subaru knew to be exactly where he was needed.

Regardless, the battle between Fuuma and Kamui was going about as well as it usually does, which is to say absolutely terribly. Subaru gets a kekkai raised, and we actually get to see him use his onmyoji abilities in earnest against Nataku. You have no idea how much I wish we'd gotten to see infinitely more of this.

Unfortunately, Subaru ultimately loses once Fuuma joins the fray, but that’s because Fuuma is, frankly, an OP villain. I have never understood why the villains are so much more powerful than the good guys in this series. That’s just bad game design.

So, Subaru actually manages to capture Fuuma in a kekkai. I’m a little unclear on what the end goal of this was going to be. Annihilating him? Trapping him for good? But we don’t get to find out because Subaru gets lost in visions of Seishirou, the man he wants to kill him. To add insult to injury, Fuuma attacks him the same way Seishirou did when he was 16 and blinds his eye, saying it’s “his wish.” Ever notice Fuuma only seems to grant the really messed up wishes? He doesn’t have to grant all of these. He could focus on some nice ones for a change. Sheesh…

More importantly (as far as this review goes), Kamui is once again in the same situation Subaru was when he was 16. He is being protected by someone who loses their eye and he was powerless to stop it, just as Subaru was all those years ago. The main difference is that back then, Subaru was purposefully allowing someone to take their anger out on him and Seishirou got in the way. Kamui was forcibly restrained from the battle and had no choice but to witness events. It also shows the difference in their personality: Subaru isn't predisposed to fighting and is more than willing to be hurt if it helps another while Kamui is perfectly all right with fighting, he just doesn't want to hurt the other Kamui because it will hurt Fuuma.

There are some other differences as well. When Seishirou’s eye was gouged out he kind of just… walked into the ER? 8D Didn’t comfort Subaru, just casually stopped the woman from attacking him and walked away. So, Subaru’s distress levels were through the roof.

Kamui’s distress levels are also ridiculously high, but once again, Subaru is far more compassionate than Seishirou and I’m sure Subaru can see the parallels here. He knows exactly what Kamui’s going through, and he doesn’t want Kamui beating himself up the way he did to himself all those years ago. He actually stops the gurney in an effort to comfort him.

It definitely helps, but sometimes Subaru is a little too honest with Kamui. He tells him this was his “wish.” Needless to say, that doesn’t exactly ease Kamui’s mind because it raises a lot of questions about Subaru's mental state he probably hadn't even been considering before.

What follows is the most clear cut parallel we’ve ever had between Subaru and Kamui. Subaru’s despair at possibly losing Seishirou when he was 16 is nearly identical to Kamui’s despair at nearly losing Subaru in the present. CLAMP is not doing this accidentally.

This, almost more than anything else, makes me believe that Kamui has feelings for Subaru because there’s not really a reason to include this parallel otherwise. In Tokyo Babylon, after Seishirou lost his eye, Subaru realized he was in love with him. It wasn't right away, but that was the incident that sparked the whole thing.

After Subaru loses his eye, Kamui stays by his side as much as possible. Kamui is never shown to have a sudden revelation he’s in love, but this is where the differences between Subaru and Kamui really become important.

Back then, Subaru was terrified of Seishirou hating him after the eye incident, and I think a lot of that comes down to the fact that Seishirou was trying to win a bet. He proclaimed his love to Subaru all the time, but he was also mysterious and decidedly standoffish. Subaru had a difficult time reading him, therefore he couldn’t predict what Seishirou would think of him afterwards.

Subaru also has a fundamentally different personality to Kamui; he had no awareness of his own feelings toward Seishirou until his sister made him think about it and a stranger said it sounded like he really loved this individual.

Whether Kamui is worried Subaru will hate him is a little unclear, but we do know that one of Kamui’s biggest opinions of Subaru is that he’s very kind. We also know he admires him as the man that saved him and saw him at his worst already. Subaru is always honest and very open with Kamui; there isn’t any additional layer of confusion in this regard (there is confusion about other things, though). The only thing Kamui fears right now is Subaru dying in this situation. He also feels massive guilt for being incapable of helping him. Kamui is taking the blame for this.

Another difference is that Kamui doesn’t have anyone deliberately trying to get him to think about his feelings for Subaru, but I think Kamui is more predisposed to falling for people in general? Or at least more capable of realizing when he has. He loved Kotori and never seemed to be in denial about it from what I can tell. It wasn’t declared in a straightforward manner in the manga, but the series made it apparent enough through other things. Kotori is considered his canonical love interest for this very reason. And I think that’s more or less what we ought to expect in regards to Kamui’s feelings toward Subaru. There isn’t going to be a big revelation; it will simply be.

And part of that quiet revelation is how attached he continues to be to Subaru after this incident.

Subaru is overtly worried about Kamui, probably because he knows how worked up he was over Seishirou himself when it happened, but also because he thinks Kamui hasn't slept. "It's harder for him to bear the wounds to his heart than the wounds to his body." Subaru definitely understands Kamui's pain all too well and he knows that while this particular incident is his own fault, Kamui is the one who will shoulder the blame, just as he did all those years ago.

It's interesting that Kamui asks for permission to visit him again. It definitely implies that maybe he actually is a little worried Subaru doesn't want him around, that he's sending him away because he's upset with him.

Kamui looks quite distressed at first, but one look from Subaru and he knows Subaru isn’t upset with him; he's worried about him.

These two tend to be very quiet around each other as soon as other people are in the room, and both Sorata and Arashi are right there. As soon as they’re alone, they engage in far more intimate conversation. Yet, they appear to be pretty good at silent communication as well and a lot is exchanged in the above panels.

Even if Subaru has forgiven him, Kamui is still plagued by what happened (understandably). He compares it to his failure to save Kotori. Two important people to him are hurt/killed because he couldn’t fight against Fuuma. It’s a powerful dilemma and a powerful comparison.

Still, after a conversation with Sorata, a visit to Kotori's grave, and a conversation with Keiichi, Kamui has renewed hope. He can do something against Fuuma: he can protect the people he cares about. This renews Kamui's determination to learn how to create a kekkai, a plot point that is never actually finished... I honestly wonder if would have learned to create one? And what would have sparked that?

We get a little insight into what Subaru is thinking about events, though. It's about as depressing as you'd expect with the trajectory of this series.

Subaru has a selfish wish. He knows that wish will hurt everyone that knows him and now there are quite a few people who care about him, something he'd been trying to avoid.

Yuzuriha is entirely correct in her analysis here, though for more reasons than she might realize. She's essentially saying that both Kamui and Subaru look down on themselves and try to solve things on their own. It's why she makes them promise to call on her if they need help. But she's also correct in another way: they both have selfish wishes and they're hurting everyone around them for the sake of those wishes. Subaru is hurting people on an emotional level by pursuing death, while Kamui is inadvertently getting people injured and killed for the sake of rescuing Fuuma. The message is clear: if these two could let go of their one "wish" they could finally move on to other possibilities and would be far more effective at saving the world. It's a cruel irony that CLAMP made their kindest character and their hero the most emotionally compromised and the most inadvertently selfish. It's also a little unfortunate that kindness and hope seem to get trampled on so much in this series, but that's a whole separate issue.

Yuzuriha also leaves Subaru with a parting gift and, honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she reminds him of his sister just a bit.

The cherry blossoms definitely bring Seishirou to mind as well as Subaru's wish for death, but it also makes me think of Hokuto as well, especially the rabbit plush. It just seems like something she would do. Regardless, Subaru still hasn't moved on.

Kamui engages in yet another battle with Fuuma, which actually goes worse than the last one. Sorata and Arashi aren't as timely as Subaru had been (Dragons of Heaven must simply be able to sense when Kamui is in trouble because they also were no where nearby. Alternatively, Hinoto is just telling them stuff). Fuuma is saying something about eating Kamui's heart. We could put this down as him being a general creep, but there's usually a double meaning with him. Perhaps one of Kamui's wishes is that he just didn't feel anything at all...?

All of this eventually brings us to our next Kamui and Subaru scene. This one has a very quiet, intimate vibe to it, probably on account of it not taking place in a hospital but what I think is Kamui's room?

Kamui has some pretty serious injuries this time around, and we learn that Subaru stayed with him the entire time, just as Kamui did for him at the hospital.

Actually, these two seem a lot closer than they did previously. Is it simply because of Subaru losing his eye? Did that open up a new level of compassion between one another? Was there more off-screen development? My guess is it’s mostly the former, but the latter is a distinct possibility with the way things have been going.

What is plain is that these two are always supporting each other in times of crisis. Not always physically, but emotionally. Subaru in particular is always there to counsel Kamui on whatever issue he wants to discuss while Kamui reminds Subaru that people actually do care about him and Kamui is one of those people.

“And yet, despite all that, I still can’t abandon Fuuma.”

Honestly, I think even Kamui is beginning to wonder if his wish is really worth it. He’s losing all the people he cares about in this pursuit. I genuinely think if Subaru had told him to rethink things here, he might have, because he trusts him and his wish has gotten him absolutely nothing so far.

Unfortunately, Subaru isn’t exactly in a great place to be telling people they need to rethink their life choices, so he doesn’t. Instead, he tries to be encouraging, which is both kind and misguided.

This is a level of emotional and physical intimacy that we just don’t see between any of the nonromantic relationships in this series. It’s actually more touch focused than a great deal of Arashi and Sorata’s interactions and those two actually have a very close emotional connection that develops into a sexual relationship later on in the series, so I have a hard time believing I’m supposed to read this scene as entirely platonic.

But what Subaru is saying is important, even if I think it’s a philosophy that manages to get both him and Kamui into trouble. “Happiness” is basically satisfaction or completion in this context. It’s not necessarily joy. Subaru is essentially telling Kamui that, yes, his wish may be selfish but it’s his. If it is the only thing that can satisfy him, he must pursue it.

Kamui makes no further comment on his own wish; he’s latched onto Subaru’s once more and is bringing Seishirou up yet again. Subaru appears surprised, perhaps because Kamui saw right through him or perhaps because Kamui’s interest in the subject has been so pointed, but he says “yes.”

I really do think Kamui was looking for something from Subaru here that he didn’t quite get. I genuinely believe he’s trying to get confirmation on whether his path is correct or not, but Subaru doesn’t really give him an answer. When that doesn't work, he tries to figure out if Seishirou is really the only thing that can bring Subaru satisfaction, which reveals this is yet another thing that's been on his mind.

That is not acceptance or understanding on Kamui’s face. That is something a little closer to sadness, disappointment, or possibly even anger. He is not pleased with this answer.

There are a lot of layers happening with this conversation and a lot of insinuations, but none of it is ever just laid out for us to see. What seems relatively straightforward to me is that Kamui wishes Subaru would let Seishirou go. He isn’t content with Seishirou being the answer to Subaru’s wish, but he also can’t bring himself to criticize it either. After all, that would be pretty hypocritical; Kamui can’t selfishly pursue his own wish while simultaneously asking Subaru to give up his own for Kamui, but I think there’s a part of Kamui that genuinely wants that to happen.

It also reveals that Kamui does have doubts about the path he's chosen. He never says it outright--he's always vocally determined to save Fuuma--but he's looking to Subaru for guidance on this issue. Not anyone else. Subaru.

So no, Kamui can't reveal that he's unsure about his wish; it's what bonded him and Subaru in the first place. Likewise, he can't ask Subaru to rethink his own wish. What really needs to happen for these two is for them both to give up their current wish to pursue … whatever this is. I’ve talked a lot about Kamui’s feelings for Subaru, but Subaru definitely holds affection for Kamui as well. There would be no reason to hold his hand that way otherwise. And there’s no way Subaru isn’t aware of the parallels; he is definitely occupying a similar role to Seishirou in Tokyo Babylon, that odd mix of mentor and potential love interest. The obvious difference being that Subaru isn’t a psychopathic killer.

Anyway, Sorata and Arashi once again interrupt their odd bonding moment and it’s incredible how swiftly the mood in the room changes. Subaru physically moves away from Kamui, stands at a more respectable distance, and Kamui turns his attention to everyone else. It definitely feels like they aren’t trying to advertise their emotional connection or their problems. Kamui becomes the leader and Subaru becomes another Dragon of Heaven.

Subaru eventually returns to his side when Kamui enters a dream state with Hinoto while the others are there, but he doesn’t say anything further. It’s interesting that Sorata has no issue with hugging Kamui or putting an arm around him when others are around, but Subaru does. Of course, Sorata is simply more demonstrative than Subaru on any given day, but it does feel like quite a stark contrast.

It looks like several days go by between that visit and their next one. Kamui is mostly recovered and heading back to school.

This is so subtle it’s very easy to miss–I did the first couple of times–but Kamui just finished buttoning up his shirt here. He is not inspecting his scars like I initially thought.

How long has Subaru been there? They’re pretty obviously in the middle of a conversation; he didn’t just arrive. It kind of suggests Kamui just… got dressed in front of him, which is definitely a shift. Their general attitudes towards each other are quite different from before as well. The opening panel above shows both of them as seeming more confident than before.

I’m not sure I believe anything untoward happened between them because that would be a pretty drastic shift in dynamics, but if there ever was a point in this series where something more physically intimate occurred (not necessarily anything sexual mind you), it's probably the unseen precursor to this scene. It's CLAMP, so... I guess what I'm saying is that I sometimes just don't know with them. XD

Regardless, all of this reveals, however subtly, a side to their relationship that doesn’t get a whole lot of focus. Namely, all that off-screen bonding I was talking about earlier.

Some of their comfort level is no doubt from the situation being less bleak in general of course. That usually helps.

And then there’s all of this:

Kamui's left arm is giving him a lot more trouble than his right. That explains why he was buttoning up his shirt with just the one previously. But he appears thoughtful, maybe a bit sad, as Subaru helps him with his tie. A lot of that has to do with him not knowing where Yuzuriha is–she could be in grave danger–but I also think some of it has to do with Subaru and Kamui’s feelings toward him. I think it’s safe to say things have entered “complicated” territory. They have a relationship that's incredibly close, but no matter how close Kamui gets to him, there's always a barrier there.

There's also the fact that Kamui always feels guilty when he's incapable of something, so even something as simple as needing help with his tie could be causing him some distress.

So much of what goes on between these two is unspoken. Subaru helping him with his tie is something that doesn’t have to be romantic, but it is a frequently used trope used to demonstrate trust and care, usually between two people who are already together.

If Seishirou and Subaru’s relationship reached it’s culmination after Seishirou lost an eye, I think it’s safe to say that Subaru and Kamui’s is following a similar trajectory, only Subaru didn’t immediately turn on Kamui. Instead, they have time to explore things in a way Subaru never did with Seishirou, whatever that may mean.

Subaru moves things into safer waters from Yuzuriha’s disappearance to Keiichi. He says he will be glad to see Kamui back in school and that he asked Subaru every day if he was all right.

Now, I mentioned earlier that Keiichi definitely thought Subaru and Kamui had something going on and felt he might be stealing Kamui away, but what does Subaru think of Keiichi?

I'd say "curious" but supportive and completely unconcerned about any competition. Honestly, Subaru doesn't strike me as the jealous type, so even if there is something between him and Kamui, I don't think he'd stop Kamui from pursuing something with anyone else. Subaru wouldn't consider himself a great choice; he thinks he's selfish after all.

This is the last normal moment Kamui and Subaru have before Subaru's final confrontation with Seishirou.

I feel relatively safe in the assumption that Subaru was going to say "like you." This is before he even becomes the Sakurazukamori, but he now considers himself selfish and he can't move on from his past whatsoever. He's also lost some of the empathy he had when he was younger; he's definitely kind, but he isn't willing to give everything up for others. He's arguably taken on Seishirou's role with Kamui as well, which I'm sure he has mixed feelings about. And ultimately, he and Seishirou share the same wish: to be killed by the person they love. So, yes, Subaru is definitely different from how he used to be.

It's after Seishirou dies that Subaru really snaps in the series. He was struggling to get by for the majority of it, but this really does it. It’s notable that even now, Kamui restrains himself.

Kamui always holds himself back when it comes to matters involving both Subaru and Seishirou. He never tells Subaru what he thinks of his wish and he doesn’t know how to help him. I think a lot of his resistance to actively reaching out to Subaru on this matter, both physically and emotionally, is out of a misguided sense of respect for him. Subaru knows what he wants and did a great deal for Kamui; Kamui tries to return the favor by giving him distance, but I think distance was the wrong thing to give Subaru. He needs to be dragged into the now and he needs to be reminded that people care. That's a lot to take on though, so I can't blame Kamui for not knowing what to do, especially when he's looking to Subaru for guidance. He doesn't feel like he can take on that role.

Their final parting is tough to watch.

I think this time, Kamui actually is worried Subaru might hate him, because for the first time he’s actually “disrespected” Subaru’s wish. He didn’t let him die with Seishirou when the bridge collapsed. He saved him and that goes against everything Subaru has wanted for the last nine years.

But once again, Subaru misunderstands and I think there’s a part of Subaru that simply can’t accept that Kamui cares for him as a person. He’s stopped caring about himself, so he doesn’t connect the very obvious dots in front of him.

Subaru: You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going to fall apart.

It could be this is just how Subaru deflects. Rather than discuss what’s really bothering him, he tries to treat Kamui like a leader who is talking to his subject, but that simply isn’t the relationship they ever had, least of all now.

Once again, Kamui gets to the heart of the matter; Subaru is thinking of Seishirou. Everything he's done is for Seishirou, and it's now very apparent Kamui simply can't accept that. He's sorry for it, he knows that if he really wanted to "respect" Subaru he would have let him die, but he couldn't do it.

Even now, Subaru is still trying to explain things to Kamui and still trying to comfort him to a limited degree; Subaru’s not exactly at his best right now, though and it's all pretty dejected. Despite having his wish denied, he doesn't blame Kamui. As he points out a little bit later, some wishes collide. He doesn't hold it against Kamui, though.

Kamui brings up the cigarettes again and this implies the whole thing is still bugging him and that he simply doesn’t understand Subaru’s motivations.

It’s interesting that our only previous glimpse into how Kamui feels about Subaru showed Subaru as being above him, yet reaching out to bring him closer. Here, Kamui literally sits on his knees before him so that Subaru is hovering over him, almost like a king with his subject, and Subaru is metaphorically reaching out to Kamui in an effort to explain himself so that Kamui might understand him.

Subaru explains everything, and essentially tells him he will never understand Seishirou now, never know what he really thought.

I think it’s safe to say that Kamui is feeling similarly about Subaru at the moment--he doesn't feel like he understands him nor does he understand what he's thinking--and once again Subaru is taking Seishirou’s role in a very roundabout way, albeit in a kinder fashion. But there's no doubt that Kamui is giving Subaru power here. Everything about their posture and conversation indicates that. While Subaru sometimes tries to treat Kamui like a leader either as a way of deflecting or because he actually believes that's the right way to handle things, we see here that Kamui absolutely views Subaru as the person with the wisdom and authority to determine things. Maybe not about the fate of the world, that's Kamui's duty, but as far as giving directions? As far as getting a say in what happens next? Absolutely.

And once again, Kamui is looking for something from Subaru he can’t give: he’s asking if what he’s pursuing is “right” and if he should change. Subaru is being given the power to change Kamui’s course and I don’t think he even realizes it.

While looking at their progression, I really think some of Kamui’s steadfast determination to save Fuuma is partially because of how Subaru keeps affirming this belief for him. There were at least two big moments where Subaru could have nudged him in a different direction, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he tries to be encouraging, although this time it’s definitely more fatalistic. Subaru doesn't understand the influence he has over Kamui and that is one of their biggest miscommunications in the series.

Even as lost as Subaru is currently, he still cares about Kamui. He wants him to focus on his own desires, not on him, and he wants him to take care of himself. The problem is that he’s completely missing the fact that Kamui relies on him, cares about him, and would do a lot better if Subaru stayed in some capacity. Instead, he disappears for a month.

Needless to say, Subaru is very much on his mind throughout his absence and Kamui still can't make a kekkai. He thinks about how everyone has something they want to protect, and that's why they can make one. His thoughts lead him right back to Subaru.

This is the person he's thinking about the most while he's visiting Kotori. This is the person he wants to return. And we actually get to see what it is Kamui actually wants for a change:

I don't know if this is the wish Kamui hasn't realized but it's definitely a wish: he wants Subaru to come back. He wants to go out and look for him. He wants Subaru to be capable of caring for someone other than the Sakurazukamori. The implication is that he wants to be important enough to Subaru for him to come back.

Just as Subaru wanted to be important enough to Seishirou for him to acknowledge him, so too does Kamui wish he were important enough for Subaru to do the same.

Kamui continues with "The people I most wanted to protect were Kotori and Fuuma. But Kotori is gone. And now all I want is to get Fuuma back. But... I still can't create a kekkai."

Fuuma is watching this moment through the dreamscape and has this input:

So, protecting Fuuma isn’t his real wish. What is? The only other thing he was thinking about was Subaru, but even I hesitate to say that’s the ultimate wish. I definitely think it's an important, unrealized wish all the same, however. As for Kamui's real wish, I’ve been assuming it was he'd chosen a different side so Fuuma could be spared or possibly that he had died instead of Kotori. CLAMP makes it hard to say for sure.

Anyhow, we finally see where Subaru’s been hiding out for a month plus: the Sakurazukamori’s house. I’m not entirely sure how he found it, but there it is.

Also, Seishirou’s final wish is about as messed up as you’d expect.

Wow, we get weird eye stuff and a dose of stalker possessiveness. 8D CLAMP outdid themselves. I can't even...

And as if that wasn't enough, we get this:

D-do I even want to know what that means? The context of this is incredibly bizarre. He’s talking about how Seishirou was upset another man hurt Subaru. The only person that’s been hurting Kamui is him.

Am I supposed to assume Fuuma wants to prevent anyone else from leaving any kind of mark on Kamui? Is that supposed to be a reference to an actual person? The only person I could think of is Subaru as far as who's been interacting with him, and I’m not actually sure that makes sense. 8D Is he talking about the original Fuuma? He’s jealous of himself? Or possibly even Kotori? Or am I supposed to assume Fuuma just wants to mark Kamui as his with another freaky eye exchange? CLAMP… Why…

Anyway, Subaru takes the eye because he’s been making a series of bad decisions and he isn’t about to let up now.

The next time we see Subaru, he has decided to do nothing, which is basically what he’d decided to do beforehand, only now he has Seishirou’s eye and is willing to watch events unfold. We see that there’s a little tension between him and Fuuma, which is… hardly surprising all things considered.

It’s interesting that Fuuma says Seishirou has been very selfish when it comes to Subaru. That would be pretty obvious to the audience, but Subaru is surprised by this assessment. Seishirou is preventing Subaru from achieving his “wish,” i.e. death and he’s also preventing him from connecting with other people. That’s the height of selfishness.

It is strange hearing this from Fuuma when he is being equally awful, however, which is probably why Subaru points out that wishes are something only Fuuma knows to begin with in what can only be described as an annoyed fashion.

We know Subaru has been on Kamui’s mind (a lot) and it looks like Kamui has been on Subaru’s as well.

Subaru does care about Kamui is the thing, which is why it's doubly strange seeing him as a Dragon of Earth. He doesn't want Kamui hurt, but he claims he's not going to be involved. Can that really be the case if he genuinely cares about someone on the opposite side?

Interestingly, he avoids the subject. He's always been private when it comes to Kamui and it looks like that isn't about to change here, especially when he's talking to the man who has tormented him so much.

The next time Kamui sees Subaru is in the midst of battle with Fuuma and Kamui definitely feels betrayed.

Subaru's presence here is a little strange and I think the only reason he's shown up at all is because he cares about Kamui, just like Fuuma said. He's not showing it in the best way, but...

At long last, Subaru tells Kamui what he needed to hear ages ago and using the opportunity he's been given many times, but never used. Kamui needs to rethink some things and saving Fuuma isn’t what he really wants.

And the thing is, Kamui listens. The final chapter ends with Kamui remembering Karen’s words and finally trying to piece together what might actually be going on and it’s all because Subaru finally stepped in and offered an actual opinion. That's the level of influence Subaru has over Kamui and I'm still not sure Subaru has figured that out.

So, how would things have progressed with Subaru and Kamui after all this? Obviously, there’s no way to say for sure. If CLAMP wanted to draw the final parallel between the Subaru/Seishirou relationship and the Subaru/Kamui relationship, then it’s quite possible Subaru will die at Kamui’s hands. Another possible parallel is that one of them realizes they love the other, but only when it's too late. But the thing is, while there are parallels between these relationships, their differences are far more profound and these two never had the kind of relationship where one would ever want to kill the other.

Even with Subaru’s betrayal, I doubt Kamui wants to see harm come to him; he’s still looking to him for guidance and support. He no doubt wants Subaru to come back. It's what he's been wanting ever since he left.

Rather than Kamui killing Subaru, it’s much more likely Subaru would sacrifice himself for Kamui, possibly as his final wish. It’s also possible Subaru decides to rejoin the Dragons of Heaven because there really isn’t any reason he has to be with the Dragons of Earth? He’s not a fan of Fuuma, he has no attachment to the people there. He’s just there for the sake of Seishirou’s memory. Undoubtedly there would be some conversation(s) between Subaru and Kamui even with them being on opposite sides. This wasn't supposed to be the final battle; Kamui doesn't die here. For all we know, that sword Fuuma's been holding up for years never strikes Kamui; it could hit someone that flings themselves in front of Kamui or it could be blocked or any number of things. But it isn't the end.

Furthermore, there's still the matter of Kamui learning to make a kekkai. It would be very strange if CLAMP never gave him a reason to create one. The issue Kamui is having is that the people he wanted to protect in the world are already gone. He needs some other reason or person to create a kekkai. This means he needs to realize an attachment to a person he didn't realize he had. I'm just saying, Subaru is a good choice for that.

And like Kamui, I have to wonder if there’s anything out there Subaru would be willing to protect. The likeliest candidate is Kamui himself.

Now, I would personally like a much happier ending to this manga than I think we were likely to get, but whatever the ending, I don’t think CLAMP was going to drop the exploration they had going of Kamui and Subaru’s relationship. It didn’t dominate the series, but it also got a lot more focus than they needed to give it. It was important and it was unique and I think their bond could have continued to grow if the world had been a little kinder to them and if they’d both been willing to move on a little sooner.

And that’s all for now. This turned out to be very long. I will now proceed to content myself with writing more fanfic. 8D

#long post #x1999 #x #subkam #ship manifesto #subkam ship manifesto #sumeragi subaru #shirou kamui #Bemused's post #This took so much time...#I really hope the pictures loaded in correctly 8D

218 notes · View notes