#privately offered to peacefully step aside if her father changed his mind

[hes-writer]

Halo

Summary: y/n feels guilty for missing harry

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut

Word Count: 7648 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : don’t cheat and don’t do drugs, kids.

inspired by one of my anons. some parts are real and some parts aren’t :)

Tarnish (1)  .  Halo (2) .  Reign (3) . 

Reign Taglist 

___

When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.

How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.

Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.

The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.

The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.

It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.

And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?

Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+’ pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.

But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.

Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.

Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.

____

So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.

Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today

Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.

“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.

Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.

“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.

She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”

“Good as always,”

Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.

Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.

“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”

He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.

They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.

“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.

She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”

“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.

“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”

The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”

Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.

“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”

She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”

“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”

Halo.

___

Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.

Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.

Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.

__

Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.

With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.

“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.

Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.

He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”

The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’

“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’

Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.

“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”

His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.

“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”

It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.

“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”

“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”

“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”

She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.

“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.

Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.

He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”

Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”

In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”

Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”

___

His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.

Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.

It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.

And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”

The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?

The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.

After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.

“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”

He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.

“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.

“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.

Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?

“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!”

He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.

She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant.

Did she really move on that quickly?

___

Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.

It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.

Y/N: You up, doc?

The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.

Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.

Connor: What’s up, Y/N?

She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.

Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..

Connor: Want me to come over?

To keep you company

The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.

It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.

Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.

He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.

The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.

“Want some?”

She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”

“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”

Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

___

Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.

“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.

“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.

“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.

“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”

“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.

“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”

“S’not ridiculous,”

She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.

The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”

___

Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?

“Don’t call me again,”

The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.

___

Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.

“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”

Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.

“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.

“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.

It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.

And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.

It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.

___

A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?

Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.

His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her', his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.

His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*'

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck u'

He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.

He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.

Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."

He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.

She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.

___

Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'

He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?

__

After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.

___

"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."

___

Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.

He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.

Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a text back

Harry: "stop being so cute"

He clicked the ‘back’ icon.

The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.

"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.

__

Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,

“Thanks for coming, C,"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.

After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.

"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"

Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"

She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/N hummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."

__

A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.

C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a  bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'

Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second. Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.

She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*',

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck you'

She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.

She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.

Y/N: 'Hiya!,'

'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'

The reply was instantaneous

C: 'Great!'

'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"

Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.

___

"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.

'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.

Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;

Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."

He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.

A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,

'Not delivered,'

___

As usual, let us know what you thought!

Reign aka pt3 is already up on Patreon (link in bio!)

Reign will be uploaded on Tumblr on Monday, August 31. ___

Series Taglist: @harrysthicccthighs @olsenholic @ghoulsonline @shexgal @neonaquariumgravel @prettylovley @ursogoldenshan @riley-moon @malstumblr1 @sunflowervol6iselite @luviewoo @pessimistic-her @babyprunstatesmanjudge @sapphire-m-rose @apples2019 @havingoodtime @parkersroses @bbymichelleee @addagin @technically-holland @bri-lovett @sunguines @trustfulhaz @novembersangels @explicitroses @toolazymyguy @luvelyhs @leftdragonfarmland @gbserion @wxn-drlst @breathingsoft1y @istudyoccasionally 

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @loviewoo @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mahiru comes across a letter and decides to write a response to it. (KuroMahi, Historical Romance AU)

After the library closed, Mahiru collected the papers and books that people had left on the tables. He wished people were more responsible and cleaned up after themselves. He worked in the castle and he came to learn that the royal family were as callus as they were wealthy. Mahiru picked up a book and a sheet of paper fell from between the pages. A sentence caught his eyes: Do you like cats?

His curiosity got the better of him and he skimmed through the rest. Mahiru discovered that it was a letter. There wasn’t enough detail in the note to know who wrote it or the person it was intended for. He found an envelope nearby and the return address was the warfront. He assumed the letter’s author was a soldier fighting in the war. While the letter was short, Mahiru thought he sounded lonely.

My Lady, I’m not the best with words or letters but my brother suggested that I write something to you. I agreed since we are engaged to be married. Arranged marriages are troublesome, aren’t they? I don’t even know your name but it’ll change to mine once I return from the war. We haven’t had a chance to meet before the war started. I would like to learn more about you before we say our vows though. Do you like cats? From, Kuro Sleepy Ash Servamp.

Mahiru wondered why the letter had been left behind in a book. Since the envelope was opened when he found it, the man’s fiancé must’ve read it already. Did she misplace it? She would likely want the letter back to be able to write a response. He decided to search for the man’s fiancé and then he walked to his friend who was working nearby.

“Misono, you were working this morning. Did you see a woman sitting at that desk who was reading a letter? I think she accidentally left it behind and I want to return it to her.” Mahiru explained how he found the letter. “I know most of the servants working in the castle but I don’t know anyone who’s in an arranged marriage.”

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself with that letter and their engagement. I overheard the woman and her friends talking about the letter. The woman laughed about it and threw the latter away. She said, in an arranged marriage, there’s no need for love and she doesn’t intend to write a reply.” Misono told him. “I know you like to help people but you should throw away that letter.”

“He’ll be left waiting for a reply though.” Mahiru argued and then bit his lip. A part of him knew that he shouldn’t insert himself into a stranger’s life yet something in the letter tugged at his heart. He grew up without a father due to the war. He recalled how his mother would wait for his father’s letter that never came. One sentence would’ve been enough to make her smile and give her hope.

Could the man in the letter be in a similar situation as his mother was?

“One letter wouldn’t hurt. I’ll tell him that she’s too sick to write a reply. He won’t know that the woman laughed at his letter.” Mahiru reasoned. He sat at a desk and took out a pen to start his letter.

“He’ll meet his fiancé eventually and learn the truth.” Misono pointed out but he knew that it was useless to argue. Once his friend had decided he wanted to help someone, no one could dissuade him.

When Kuro wrote the letter to his fiancé, he didn’t expect her to write back to him. They were engaged to be married but they hadn’t met before. His brother suggested they traded letters to learn more about each other before their marriage. He didn’t know why he decided to send the letter though. Their arranged marriage was political and he knew better than to expect anything more than a loveless life.

He broke the seal on the envelope and he took out the letter. The paper had the subtle scent of roses. Kuro also found a pressed rose within the envelope and he assumed the scent was from the flower. He was surprised to find a gift with his letter and he twirled the fragile rose between his fingers. Then, he carefully placed the rose aside and read through the letter.

Dear Kuro. I hope you, your family and everyone fighting in the war are doing well. Sadly, I am feeling sick and I cannot write a long reply. I have sent you a rose with this letter. My brother is also fighting in the war and he told me how bleak the battles can be. A rose might not be much but I hope it’ll lift your spirits whenever you need it. Please keep the rose close like a charm so you’ll stay safe.

To answer your question, I adore cats. They’re simple creatures but wonderful companions. I once had a black cat as a pet and it would sit on my lap whenever I was lonely. There are a lot of stray cats in the castle and I would adopt them all if I were allowed. My friend would lecture me if I tried so I’ll have to settle for leaving out food for them.

While he hadn’t met his fiancé before, his family had told him a few things about her. She didn’t seem to be the type to feed stray cats so the letter piqued his interest. Kuro wondered if people were wrong about her. Many people judged his siblings so he sympathized with her if she was in the same situation. He only accepted the marriage for the sake of his family but he wondered if they could be something genuine.

“Mahiru, you have another letter. I thought you said that you would only send one letter. You’re lucky these letters are sent to the castle’s library to be sorted before they’re delivered to everyone.” Misono held out the envelope to Mahiru. Excitement beamed in his brown eyes as he took the letter from his friend. He didn’t know what they wrote to each other about but, from his reaction to the letter, he could see that they had grown close. “I hope you’re being careful when you write to him.”

“Don’t worry, I keep my letters simple.” He assured him. Months had passed since the first letter and they had exchanged countless letters. He didn’t know his fiancé so Mahiru would tell him about his own experiences. He was careful not to be discovered though. They had gotten to know each other through their letters and he learned that Kuro was a funny and thoughtful man. Mahiru felt a little guilty for lying to him. He could only imagine how confused he would be after he meet his fiancé.

Mahiru walked to a private corner of the library so he could read the letter. He opened the window to let in a cool breeze. There were rose bushes next to the window and their pleasant smell soothed him. He sat at the desk and opened Kuro’s letter. He smiled when he found a sketch of a bird attached to the letter. Kuro would often send him pictures to thank him for the flowers he gave him.

Dear Rose, animals don’t visit the camp often but I saw a bird outside my tent this morning. I thought you might like it so I drew a sketch for you. There’s finally a lull in the battle and I can sleep peacefully. I heard the enemy has pulled back their forces and I hope that’s a sign the war will end soon. We can finally meet each other and feed those stray cats you told me about in your first letter.

To be honest, I thought an arranged marriage was troublesome since we’re practically strangers. I’m lucky that my fiancé is someone I can talk to. I’m glad that I wrote a letter to you. All of my siblings are fighting in the war and I don’t know if I’ll have a family to return to when this is over. Meeting you is the one of the things I can look forward to, Rose.

Since Kuro didn’t know his name, he had given him a nickname based on the flower he sent him. His letter went on to tell him about his day and his family. Mahiru looked forward to his letters but he would have mixed feelings at the same time. He hadn’t intended to write more than one reply yet something changed with each letter they exchanged. His small lie had grown and Kuro would be hurt once he met his fiancé who had thrown away his letter.

Mahiru heard a sharp yelp of pain and he turned towards the voice. He leaned out the window to search for the person who was hurt and his eyes fell on a man in a white cloak. The man had a few roses in his arm and Mahiru guessed that he had pricked himself with a thorn. He walked to the window and said, “Excuse me, are you okay, Sir?”

“It’s just a small cut. I’ve gotten worse.” He shrugged.

“You should be mindful of wounds, even if they’re small. May I see your hand?” Mahiru asked. He held out his hand to him and the man laid his hand over his palm in return. Scars lined his fingers but Mahiru didn’t comment on them like the man expected him too. He ripped a strip of cloth from his napkin and then wrapped it around his finger.

“Will I make a full recovery, Doctor?” He asked in a flat voice but the subtle tilt of his lips told him that he was being more teasing than sarcastic. He had a handsome smile and Mahiru wondered who he was. Mahiru knew most of the workers in the castle but he didn’t recognize the man. He was certain he would remember someone with unique red eyes.

“I think you’ll survive. If you want to cut flowers, you should visit the castle’s greenhouse. My friend works there and I can ask him to let you pick a few flowers. Wait here and I’ll show you where the greenhouse is.” Mahiru offered and the man nodded in agreement. He carefully placed Kuro’s letter in his pocket before he left the library to help the man.

The backdoor of the library was nearby and he stepped outside. He stopped at his side and then gestured for him to follow him. They fell into step next to each other and Mahiru watched him from the corner of his eyes. “My name’s Mahiru. I haven’t seen you before. Are you here to visit someone in the castle?”

“I want to surprise my fiancé. She isn’t expecting me to return until a week from now. My brother is over watching my land so I can visit her. I saw roses and I thought I should pick a few for her. That makes me sound like a hopeless romantic, doesn’t it?” He chuckled at himself. His red eyes softened and Mahiru could see that he cared for his fiancé.

“That’s sweet. Your fiancé is lucky to have a caring partner. It’s rare that a person can marry for love rather than for it to be arranged by your parents. I know a lot of the workers in the castle so I might know your fiancé. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know since we’re in an arranged marriage. I wasn’t able to meet her before I joined the war. We’ve spoken through letters though. She sent me a rose and I want to give her one as well.” His words caused Mahiru’s body to stiffen in shock. He couldn’t move as a realization crashed over him.

The man in front of him was Kuro.

“Is something wrong, Mahiru?” Kuro noticed how he stopped walking and he turned back to him. Mahiru had large, expressive brown eyes so Kuro could see his shock. His mind was racing too fast for Mahiru to respond to his question. What could he say? He knew the right thing to do was to tell him the truth before he went to his fiancé.

Mahiru faced Kuro yet his words became caught in his throat. He couldn’t only imagine the hurt on his face when he told him that his fiancé wasn’t the one to write the letter. Kuro was staring at him with confusion so he knew he needed to say something. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to visit your fiancé, Kuro. You’re returning from a war so you should take some time for yourself.”

“… How did you know that my name is Kuro? I haven’t told you my name yet.” Kuro’s brows furrowed as he studied Mahiru. Instead of answering, Mahiru turned on his heel and dashed away from him.

“I should’ve listened to Misono and ignored his letter. What am I going to do now?” Mahiru muttered to himself as he fed the cats. They purred in response to his words and he petted one of the cats. Unfortunately, its soft fur didn’t comfort him like it usually did. Another sigh escaped him and he took out the letter Kuro had sent him. He had to remind himself: “He didn’t send this to me.”

A cat pawed at the paper and Mahiru quickly lifted the letter out of its reach. He was surprised when the letter was stolen from his hand. He looked over his shoulder to see who the person was and he gasped. Kuro stood over him with the letter in his hand. He didn’t appear angry but Mahiru held his breath as he waited for him to speak.

“Do you like cats?” His question was barely a whisper but it caused guilt to squeeze Mahiru’s heart. Kuro didn’t look at him and focused on the cats instead. “My fiancé said she liked to feed the stray cats in the castle. I came here to speak with her but she’s not here. I don’t think she’ll come either. After you ran away, I spoke with my brother who arranged the marriage. He says my fiancé is allergic to cats.”

“She didn’t lie to you and she didn’t tell me to write those letters to you either. Please, don’t be angry with her for something I did on my own.” Mahiru knew that it was pointless to lie to him. His gaze fell to the ground as he explained how he found his letter. “I thought I was sparing your feelings by replying to your letter but I only made this complicated situation. I’m sorry for lying to you about who I was. Everything else I wrote about was the truth though.”

Mahiru felt a warm hand brush over his hair and he finally faced Kuro. Tenderly, he brushed his brown hair from his eyes and then tucked a rose behind his ear. “I told my fiancé that I didn’t want to go through with the arranged marriage. There’s someone I wanted to get to know through more than letters. You’ve never told me about your family, Mahiru.”

“I have a brother and we were raised by my uncle.” Mahiru was relieved that Kuro wasn’t angry with him for lying and he wanted to get to know him more. They already knew each other through their letters so they were able to fall into a conversation easily. He told him about his childhood and petted the cat on his lap. He liked exchanging letters with Kuro but he found that he preferred speaking with him in person.

[a-strange-inkling]

Arrangement p1

Summary: The (not your average) Arranged Marriage AU I didn’t know I needed to write.

Rated: M (for adult content)

.

.

Chapter One: The Broken Promise

He opened the door to the house that had been built for his brother, the house that should never have been his.

It felt more than wrong to take such comfort in it, but he was weary from his travels and toils, and the smell of the burning embers from the dying fire and the warmth they emitted enraptured him, pulling him into their snares as he crossed the threshold, leaving the world outside behind.

The Uchiha heir paused, the sound of trickling water in the next room alerting him that she was still awake. Her chakra signature hummed serenely, the feel of it like warm silk against the cold air that lingered in his bones.

His wife.

He exhaled slowly, taking his time as he unfastened his cloak and untied his sandals. He was in no hurry to face her after that brief audience with his father.

His throat was dry as he tried to swallow, their exchange of words still burning in his ears.

“So, you’ve returned.”

Sasuke straightened in surprise. It was odd to have his father greet him at the gate, he hadn’t done that since he was a boy.

“Is something wrong?” he found himself asking.

“I need to speak to you,” Fugaku told him with that quiet, stern tone Sasuke was all too familiar with.

His father then turned, walking ahead somewhere the young shinobi assumed was more private. He felt his shoulders fall in exhaustion, he had traveled all night without rest and wasn’t sure if he had the energy for this.

But, with a heavy sigh, he followed.

If Sasuke was anything, he was a dutiful son.

“What is it?” he asked as they reached the bridge at the far end of the village, trying to keep his agitation at bay.

Fugaku inhaled deeply as if summoning strength from some otherworldly source to continue, making Sasuke all the more concerned.

“...It is about your wife,” he told him.

He perked at that.

Sakura.

“Is she alright?” Sasuke felt his pulse quicken, worry gripping tightly at his chest.

“Yes,” Fugaku replied evenly, banishing his first and foremost fear, at least. “She is as healthy, strong and lovely as the day she first stepped into our home.”

Sasuke’s brows drew together at the fleeting memory.

The day everything changed forever.

“Then I don’t understand…”

“She is so well, in fact, that it is a great wonder to me and the other clansmen that she is still without child.”

Sasuke stopped breathing as all the color and warmth drained from his face, leaving him cold and unmoving. If his father at that moment had decided to unsheathe the family katana from his belt and run it threw his stomach instead, he would not have been any more stunned.

“I…” he found he could not think, let alone speak.

“You are aware of the importance of this, are you not?”

“...Yes, I…”

“The survival of our clan depends on an heir.” Fugaku reminded him, his tone growing harsher with every reprimand. “It has been nearly six months of marriage.”

“And four months I’ve been sent away.” Sasuke countered, the spark in him rekindling quickly.

“It does not take a constant presence to father a child, Sasuke.”

The younger Uchiha’s jaw locked tightly, lost somewhere between disbelief, mortification, and resentment. Turning from his father before he said or did something rash, he placed his hands heavily on the railings of the bridge, looking out into the torrid waters of the river beneath them, considering throwing himself in to be washed away... to be anywhere than where he was standing now.

“I don’t understand it, has there been a disagreement between you?”

“No.” he muttered lowly, the heat returning, hotter than before, traveling up his back, pulsing through his ears.

“Is she undesirable to you?”

“Must we discuss this now?”

“There are already rumors floating around, we cannot see a full year of marriage without the promise of a son. The lineage cannot appear weak. The title and wealth must be procured.” his father went on. “So, I ask again, is there something wrong with her?”

“...No.” he answered quietly.

“Then could it be that she is… unhappy with this arrangement?”

Sasuke kept his gaze firmly on the moving water. “I don’t know,” he told him honestly.

Fugaku managed to feel some sympathy for his second-born at that. Last year at this time, Sasuke was free to do as he wished, to go where he wanted. Now he carried the future of his clan upon his shoulders.

Something he had never been raised or fashioned to do.

“...We’re still strangers in many ways, Father,” he confessed.

“I would not speak of this… I would not press this if it was not necessary,” he told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “There must be an heir.”

He watched her as she worked in the candlelight. Her long hair hung loosely, tied with a thin red ribbon half way down, swaying gently as she moved, washing each dish peacefully, lost in a world of her own.

She had been offered numerous servants by both her mother and his family to aid her in maintaining the household, but she had only taken on those absolutely necessary. She mostly saw to the house herself. From what his brother had told him, it was her request that the house be kept smaller and manageable during the construction.

She had made it her own in his absence, herbs hanging from the mantles, their strange, earthy smells wafting pleasantly, books and scrolls filling every shelf and nook.

“You’re back.” she murmured softly, keeping her attention on her task.

Apprehension paralyzed him briefly, just a day ago he had looked forward to this moment, to see her again after so many cold nights alone.

With silent steps he crossed the distance between them, coming to stand just behind her. “I wish I had known.” she went on. “I would have prepared something… perhaps I could…”

She paused as his hands rose to carefully caress her covered elbows, making her still in her labors.

Warmth radiated from her, the faint smell of rose water lingering in her soft tresses intoxicating him as he gently brushed them aside, exposing her neck to him.

Slowly, his lips met her pale delicate skin, hearing her breathing hitch slightly in surprise.

He had not touched her like this since their wedding night.

Scattered memories flashed through his mind, their shared quiet hesitance, the nervous energy, the slow waves of bliss washing over him before the guilt closed in, smothering him, making it hard to breathe.

He continued his ministrations, his lips just below the shell of her ear, when she turned slowly to face him, breaking the contact. Her green eyes glowed in the candlelight, searching his tired, longing gaze.

For a moment, nothing was said. In the next, he took her face into his hands and pressed his mouth to hers softly, gently, asking.

He felt her hands, still wet from the sink water, hook in the crook of his arms, dampening the fabric there, to steady herself as she tentatively came to oblige him.

She opened her mouth shyly, like a flower at first light to his touch, and he thought perhaps she could be his after all.

Though, it was only a moment before she pulled away, her large eyes boring into him once more, clear of any daze that his hands or lips could cast over her.

“...What’s brought this about?” she asked him, her voice nothing but a faint whisper.

He faltered.

He didn’t know how to make her understand.

“...Is it so out of the question?” he asked, the pads of his thumbs drawing slow circles along her jaw.

Perhaps he had been pushed this night, but he hadn’t planned on spending the rest of his days deprived of her touch.

He hoped someday they would not always be strangers, that his brother’s ghost would not always linger so closely.

Did she not long for him at all? Did she not wish to try and build a life together?

You’re not what she wants. Something cruel whispered in his ear. Whoever wanted second best?

“It shouldn’t be.” her head tilted slightly as she watched him, a nervous little habit of hers he had noticed long before their vows. “...did your father speak with you?”

He straightened at that, hands drifting to her shoulders, before falling limply to his sides.

He felt everything in him burn with embarrassment. Wishing for the second time that day to simply evaporate into thin air.

“How did you…?”

“...Your mother came to see me today as well,” she told him, color rushing to her face as she broke their gaze, her eyes finding refuge somewhere between the cracks of the floor.

And here he thought he could never be more mortified.

“I’m... sorry.” he breathed out, his eyes closing with a slow shake of his head, praying his mother had not been as blunt and insensitive as his father had been.

“Don’t be… She was kind and meant well,” she assured him as if reading his thoughts.

“It’s still not right.” he dismissed, angry with both his parents now.

This girl was far from home, married to a stranger, and yet they thought it wise to corner her, to pressure her.

“It is what is expected.” she shrugged her shoulders, before meekly meeting his gaze once more. He was surprised by the sadness and pain he saw swimming there.

“You’ll have to forgive me though, I’m tired, and duty won’t be enough to spur me tonight.”

She made to leave him and he almost let her, before reaching out and catching her arm, much to her surprise as well as his own.

She turned back to face him.

“I…” he swallowed thickly. “I want more than just a child.”

He watched as she faltered, tears pooling at the rims of her eyes.

“I want this,” he told her. “I want you.”

“...Then why?” she asked him faintly, making his heart stir all the more. “Why haven’t you…” she swallowed a small sob, a single tear escaping, falling delicately from her thick, pale lash.

“Because Itachi’s dead, and I’m alive,” he confessed sullenly, releasing her arm, before gently brushing away the stray tear, letting his fingers linger there briefly before falling away. “Because I was afraid… I still am… that I’m not what you wanted.” Her eyes widened as he leaned in once more, hovering close, but not touching her.

“...You were never meant to be mine.” he reminded her.

Her eyes were bright and beautiful as she gazed up at him in wonderment.

She closed the distance this time, leaning up and pressing her lips delicately against his as he carefully met her halfway, drawing his arms around her, pulling her closer still. She was so warm, so soft, molding against him so perfectly, it left him just as astounded as the first time he had ever held her.

Desperate with longing, he didn’t waste time, guiding her the short distance to their shared room. His hands fell to her waist, reaching for her sash. His fingers moved steadier than the first time, perhaps, but they were just as hasty, as he made to untie it, pushing the linen layers of her simple day kimono from her shoulders.

His mouth fell to her neck, her collarbone, before returning to her mouth, never breaking contact as he tore off his loose travel shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

The feel of her warm skin against his made him near senseless as her hands traveled the rigid terrain of his chest, wrapping around his broad shoulders, holding him close.

With great care, his hands slid up the smooth planes of her back, laying her down against the bed beneath him, pulling away only to breathe, broken bated breaths.

Their eyes met, hearts pressed together, beating wildly against one another.

He couldn’t bear it.

The sight of her so beautiful, so vulnerable. He kissed her again, and again, feverish untamed touches, down her mouth, to her chin, her neck.

“I am though.” she murmured softly, her fingers moving through his thick tresses.

“Hn?” he hummed against the hollow of her chest, lost in the softness of her skin.

Her hands slipped down to cradle his face, beckoning him gently to look at her. He complied in concern, lifting his head dazedly.

“I am…” she told him, breathless beneath his weight and ministrations. “I am yours.”

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, the weight of her words crashing over him like waves against the shore.

Mine.

The thought warmed him all the more. Made him burn with gratitude and pride, dismissing the dark shadows of his grief and shame, for the moment at least, like a glowing beacon of light.

Mesmerized, he touched her face, his thumb running along her cheekbone. His hand was far too rough for such delicate skin, but she paid it no heed, closing her eyes as she relished his touch.

As the violet skies darkened, he honored her quiet vow, making her his own. The past and all its looming shadows were long forgotten in their passionate reunion.

…

“...Are you alright?” he asked hours later, his brows furrowing as he turned on his side to better see her in the faint candlelight. She had not moved for almost an hour, laying flatly on her back, eyes focused on the ceiling above.

“Yes,” she answered him, her tone amiable, but rather guarded.

He frowned in confusion. “Then… what are you doing?”

“...It’s something your mother said would help,” she told him.

“Help... what?”

“Apparently, laying still for a while...” she paused, her fingers fiddling with the quilt her mother had sent her to remind her of home. “...it helps the… chances of a child.” her face burned as she chose each word carefully, unable to look him in the eye.

He stared off into the darkness in bafflement.

“I think it’s foolish,” she confessed, her fingers still moving without purpose. “But then she managed two heirs, who am I to argue?”

A small, rare smile graced his dark features as he leaned over her, stretching an arm over her head, his hand hovering just above her hairline.”Can I still touch you?”

“I suppose,” she replied, returning his smile as his fingers played with her tousled tresses. “Just don’t move me about.”

He hummed an understanding, kissing her slowly, sweetly, before resettling beside her, resting his head against her soft, warm chest. He sighed gently as she brushed her fingers through his hair.

The sound of her heartbeat was strong and lulling, her life force radiating brightly in the night.

Yet, even enveloped in her glowing warmth, the darkness still managed to creep its way back from the corners of his mind at the memory of Itachi's body being carried into the village, cold to his touch, vacant of life and far beyond saving.

There are never two heirs.

There can only be one.

“...Did you love my brother?”