#when you and your brother have the same therapist and he apparently told your family weeks ago that your therapist has cancer except
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#when you and your brother have the same therapist and he apparently told your family weeks ago that your therapist has cancer except#you definitely weren't there and now you've been going to sessions for weeks not asking how she is and probably seeming like a selfish dick#and you don't know what to do bc what the fuck are you supposed to say to your therapist when she has cancer??? should you say anything#because she told your brother but she didn't tell you so maybe she doesn't want you to know or maybe she assumes you know and never brought#it up and WHAT THE FUCK i feel so shitty i just spent the entire session complaining about how stressed i am and look i am stressed i can#barely sleep but i just got out of the session and my mom was like did you ask her how she is and i was like why and she was like??#she has breast cancer??? you didn't even ask her how she was???? bc for some reason my mom thinks i knew about it and now i just don't know#what to do. i'm supposed to meet up with my friends and hang out before we go back to school and now idk if i can bc MY THERAPIST HAS FUCKIN#G CANCER AND NOBODY YOLD ME SHE IS FUCKING DYING AND I DIDNT KNOW i can't go back to school there's too many things happening right now#i have to get so much shit done today and idk how to do anything right now#shut up hanna
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I probably have hEDS, have had tense muscles since I was 8 and more and more of my joints started to be in constant pain, 10 years spine, 14 years hips, then hands at 19 and now all of them. And though I'm over 40 and don't practice any stretching, I still can contort myself in any direction.
But I don't know if it's worth the energy to fight for a diagnosis? Because it doesn't seem like there is any help, other than mild painkillers and physiotherapy, and I already get that. It is so much work to convince doctors to look into the source of joint pain, as soon as they can rule out rheumatoid arthritis they stop caring. And I don't belive I will get stronger painkillers even with a diagnosis anyway.
Do you think a diagnosis is woth the hassel?
For me, diagnosis was worth it because it meant getting the correct kind of physical therapy, which is often very different from the regular kind you usually get if the physical therapist is good at their job.
Regular PT used to damage my joints more. PT designed to target hypermobility has actually helped build joint stability, retrain my muscles, and reduce some of my pain by lessening the frequency of injuries.
Itâs also good to know because hEDS affects more than just your joints.
I have a lot of problems with my internal organs due to how my connective tissue is affected, and my brother, who is undiagnosed but likely affected, suffered from spontaneous retina detachment twice. When I mentioned it to my eye doctor he said, âyeah, that happens to you zebrasâ and now I get my retinal health assessed every six months because fuck that.
It can also be good to know because of how it affects your care during things like surgery, ranging from which anesthesia they use to the type of sutures required.
When my mother had a mastectomy, she experienced several surgical complications, including not being able to get the wound site to close, so they kept dragging her back into surgery.
When I found out, I told my dad the surgical team needed to know my mother likely had hEDS because I did, and my mother and I are carbon copies of each other. When my dad told the surgeon, he apparently said, âWell, if Iâd known that, Iâd have done the whole thing differently!â and finally got my mother stitched up properly and into recovery.
In that regard, my diagnosis helped not just me but a family member, but also indicated the type of care Iâll likely need if Iâm ever in the same situation.
So, yes, it's a hassle to get diagnosed and some (bad) doctors will frame it in terms of âthereâs no cure so thereâs no point.â
But for me, itâs not only been worth it but also vital to the management of the rest of my care. And let me be clear, there are some people for whom this is just a crappy joint disorder, and they are otherwise fine. But for many of us, weâre more than just our fucky joints. Weâre an entire plethora of health problems that all cascade from our weak connective tissue, and it's important more people recognize that.
So is it worth it for you? That's a you decision. But it was very much worth it for me.
I wish you luck and fewer days of pain. This shit sucks.
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Lucretia would love to say that there wasn't much that surprised her anymore, but that was horribly inaccurate and incredibly easy to prove false. Last week, she had been surprised to tears when Merle held her hand, even though Merle held her hand all the time (he did that even with his memories gone, though it had been much more weird for both of them then). And even two days ago, she had nearly startled herself to hell and back when Angus told her that "you actually don't hide your depression symptoms very well, ma'am" and "maybe you need to seek some professional help? I have some great therapists I can recommend!"
Anyway.
No, Lucretia couldn't say she wasn't hard to surprise. But despite knowing all of that, standing in the tiny living room of Magnus's childhood home, getting hugged by two women whose arms wrapped around her the exact way Magnus's did? Cut her some slack, why wouldn't that be surprising?
"Thank you for staying with him," one of Magnus's moms saidâ Amelia? Fuck, of course Lucretia knew it was Amelia, she had drawn her dozens of times, recreating and refixing the worn-down photo that Magnus insisted on keeping on him the first few years of their century running from the Hunger.
The words, "but I didn't" got stuck in Lucretia's mouth. She swallowed around the, and couldn't bring herself to do anything more than just nod. Gods. Fuck.
Magnus had been the one to tell her of the Planar Belts. Lup was supposed to have, apparently, but Magnus caught her first. An hour in their home plane wasn't a lot but the seven of them had far grown used to working under weird, constrictive time limits. And while they were still tracking down Lucretia's brother, Magnus's moms hadn't been hard to find at all. Story and Song had stretched across their planar system, yes, but the Hunger had already touched down when it did. And thus, every single planar system inside it heard it, too.
Lucretia had spent a lot of time after that wondering what her brother thought of her. And standing here with Magnus's moms doubled the thoughts' intensity. Would he be proud? Teary, like Amelia? Speechless, like his step-mom? Had he been worried about her? Had he given up on her coming back? Was he even still alive?
A small gust of wind caught against her skin and Lucretia looked up to see they were outside. Gods, she needed to get a grip on herself. How much time had passed? How much time did they have left?
A hand tugged on hers, leading her to sit down. It was Magnus. She settled onto a picnic bench in their back garden, surrounded by dozens and dozens of flowers.
This was not the first time she had been to this house. The memory was old, but the scent of rosemary brought it back. She and Magnus, much, much younger than they were now, still in their Institution days, back when the Institution of Planar Research had yet to tack the "And Exploration" onto the end of their name. They had been roommates for a semester, back when they both started out. Magnus had convinced her to spend Candlenights out here and she had felt much the same as she did now.
Yearning. For her brother, for a life she didn't yet have, and a life she hadn't begun to know.
Helplessness. Away from home for the first time, in the wake of her mother's death and her father's withdrawal into himself. Trying to figure out who she was in the world.
And hopefulness. Winter had been bitter, but it hadn't snowed, and Amelia was, in Magnus's words, "an expert at seasonal plants." Their garden had still been full and lush and while she had been invited to help tend to it, she hadn't wanted to, in fear of breaking something by accident.
That version of herself felt foreign now. How could Lucretia possibly break anything worse than what she had already done to her family?
Magnus nestled into her side as she lifted her head, trying to blink away tears.
"Ma said she's gonna get some new plants," Magnus said. "As 'celebration'." Lucretia snorted a little bit at the way he said itâ Amelia Burnsides thought every event, no matter how big or small, was worthy of new plants. "You still like cornflower, right? 'Cause I told her to get cornflower for you."
"Iâ" Lucretia said, her throat suddenly a little tight. She turned away. Magnus didn't budge, merely wrapping an arm around her and holding tightly. Lucretia cleared her throat, trying to get a hold of herself. But instead of answering, her mouth said, "thank you for staying with me."
Magnus didn't respond, just squeezing her slightly. She wiped at her eyes, looking up towards the horizon. The two suns overlapped like flower petals. The wind chime played a little melody in the wind.
"Cornflowers are good," Lucretia said at last. "It'sâ tell her that'd be great, Magnus."
"Tell her yourself," Magnus said.
#magnus burnsides#lucretia#taz#taz balance#ise cube writing#mine#enjoy! i've been thinking about them a lot
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Succession Preference: Baby Roy Wanting Kids
Requested: how about succession preference for the youngest roy getting pregnant? if it's not too much trouble! - anon
A/N: I try to keep everything gender neutral so I changed it just a bit, I hope you don't mind my love! Thank you for requesting! Feedback is always appreciated đđđ
Connor thinks it's fantastic! He couldn't be happier for you. Really, he loves being a big brother, he loves being an uncle even more. He thinks you'd make an excellent parent, the best. He and Willa would love to babysit and help out as much as they can. You have a lot of worries that you'll end up like your mother and father, cold and mean and abusive. He assures you you're better than that, you're kinder and considerate and you're so full of love. You are nothing like them. He can't believe his baby is growing up so fast, wanting their own baby. He can't believe where the time has gone. Now he's helping you pick out toys and sippy cups when you were just using them yesterday.
Kendall is pretty shocked. He thought he was the only one who'd have kids. It just didn't seem like something you or any of the others really wanted. Then Shiv surprises them all and now you. He's happy for you. Really. He might not be the best dad in the entire world, but he loves his kids with his whole heart, he only wants the best for them. He tries to show them that as best he can. He's not gonna try to talk you out of it or tell you all the ways he's messed up as a parent. He really does think you'll be a great parent. You're the best out of all of them, you were raised by them, not your parents. If anyone knows anything about unconditional love and patience, it's you.
Shiv thinks parenthood is a waste of your time. You're smart, you're driven, you're passionate. A baby gets in the way of that. If this is really what you want, she can't stop you, no one can, but it's definitely something she thinks you should think over. It's not something to be taken lightly. Look at her mother, your father, hell look at Kendall. He's not exactly winning any father of the year awards. She can't think about kids and a family without thinking about all the parts of yourself you'll have to give up, all the parts she'll have to give up. You think this'll be nice, that your kids can grow up together, but she can't see it that way. That's too idealistic. That's too fairy tale-like. You could go big places, places bigger than her and Ken and all of them. She truly believes this, she always has, that's what she sees for you, not play groups and dirty diapers.
Roman isn't sure what to think. It seems like all of you are wanting or having kids. He thought he was losing his mind when Shiv told them she was pregnant, but now you? Is this some kind of practical joke? Roman doesn't think any of you should procreate. With the way your childhoods were and the lack of therapists none of you are seeing, he doesn't think it's such a great idea. You're not like Logan or your mother, but it doesn't mean you don't have your own issues. He definitely isn't gonna bring anymore Roy's into the world. He was hoping all of you were under the same agreement. Apparently not.
#requested#prefrence#connor roy#connor roy headcanon#connor roy x reader#kendall roy#kendall roy headcanon#kendall roy x reader#shiv roy#shiv roy headcanon#shiv roy x reader#roman roy#roman roy headcanon#roman roy x reader#succession#succession headcanon#succession x reader
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Part 4, Chapter 1
Uncle Scrooge stood in front of him, one hand on his cane. His hat was resting on a nearby countertop, and he wore a strange, guilty expression.
âIâm sorry, Louie.â He told him quietly. âI shouldâve been there.â
âMm-hm.â Louie grunted noncommittedly.
~~~
Three Years Ago
Louie sat silently in the armchair, his gaze levelled at a cup of water he was clutching in his hands. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall-mounted clock and the scribbling of pen against paper, a few feet in front of him.
ââŠCan you tell me what triggered your panic attack?â Asked Dr. Lake, his voice calm and measured.
ââŠYeah.â Louie murmured. He took his hands out of his pockets, laying them on his legs as he talked. âUm⊠so, I was at my uncleâs Money Bin. Apparently, some thieves had broken in, tried to steal stuff⊠the Beagle Boys, apparently. No idea how they got in. Me and my brothers went over when we heard about it⊠not that we needed to, it was all wrapped up by the time we got there. We saw the police were taking some of them away, and they were searching them⊠fishing gold out of their pockets and everything.
âI came over, saw this, like⊠gold ingot that had fallen on the floor. And IâŠâ Louie swallowed, forcing himself to continue. ââŠI saw my reflection in it. Like Iâd seen in the⊠in the dagger.â Louie took a moment, then finished, âAnd I just⊠same thing that happened with my golden khopesh. I just⊠froze up, couldnât breathe right⊠it felt like I was back in that room, likeâŠâ
âLike you couldnât escape?â Lake suggested.
ââŠYeah.â
Louie fell silent. He heard the doctor scribble something else down.
ââŠAnd what did your family do, when you had your attack?â Dr. Lake asked.
Louie shrugged. âTook me home. Huey calmed me down, heâs, uh⊠really good at doing that. And I just watched TV for the rest of the day.â
Louie looked into the cup, his tired reflection staring back at him.
ââŠI used to really like gold.â He murmured.
âDid you like it because it was valuable, or for what it represented?â
âBoth. Kinda. Having gold meant that you were rich.â
âAnd what does it mean to you now?â
Louie shrugged again. âI donât know.â He mumbled.
The therapist was quiet for a moment. Louie looked up at the older drake, swaddled in an old grey turtleneck. He put his notepad down, then asked, âThese panic attacks, they occur whenever something happens that reminds you of that⊠âadventureâ, yes?â
âYeah.â Louie nodded. âThatâs why we donât go on adventures anymore.â
âAnd the nightmares⊠do they occur in response to similar stimulus?â
Louie shook his head. âNo, the nightmares just happen whenever. Thereâs no⊠rhyme or reason to them.â
âI see⊠and do you tell your family about the nightmares?â
âNo⊠but they know.â
âAnd they take care of you when you have your panic attacks? You mentioned that your brother Huey is good at calming you down.â
âYeah, yeah. They take care of me.â
Dr. Lake wrote down another note. ââŠLetâs go back to your last âadventureâ, where this all started. Are you comfortable if we do that?â
ââŠYeah.â
âIn one of our previous sessions, you mentioned how the incident started off as a âroutine adventureâ.â The doctor recalled, flipping through his notes. âCould you remind me⊠what constitutes as a âroutineâ adventure?â
âUh⊠ancient ruins, deathtraps, treasure thatâs either cursed or protected by another, scarier deathtrapâŠâ Louie explained. âYou know, like those Ford Windfall movies.â
âAnd youâve always felt safe on those trips?â
ââŠYeah? Like, it- itâs dangerous, but Uncle Scrooge always has our back.â
âYou feel as if your uncle protects you?â
ââŠWhy wouldnât I?â Louie asked, confused.
âHe doesnât force you to go on these trips? You have the choice of staying behind?â
âOf course I- What do you mean? What is this?â Louie demanded.
âCalm down.â Lake said steadily. âIâm not trying to be accusatory. Iâm just trying to get a better understanding of your⊠situation.â
âReally? âCause it sounds like youâre saying that- that itâs my familyâs fault that- that Iâm like this!â Louie accused him.
Dr. Lake didnât say anything, his face pensive. He leant forward in his chair, his hands clasped. âLouie⊠if I could speak franklyâŠâ He said slowly. âYour family has a very unique lifestyle.â
âYeah, weâre adventurers.â Louie retorted.
âI know that. But please, try to understand⊠there are very few children who live a lifestyle like yours. And those children are typically⊠quite troubled.â
Louie didnât say anything.
âThere are many people who would say that your circumstances arenât healthy for a growing mind.â Lake continued. âAnd if your uncle didnât have the reputation that he has⊠well, itâd be seen as a case of neglect, or abuse, even. I-â
âAbuse?â Louie spluttered. âYou think my familyâs- what the hell do you know about my family?â
âIâm saying this is how your circumstances can be perceived. These arenât my views, and I donât personally believe this to be a case of abuse. But I do think that your family might have had a role to play, however unwittingly, in your trauma. All I want is to get toâŠâ
Louie stopped listening. He couldnât hear him. He felt his breathing quickening, his heart racing, the doctorâs words flying back and forth in his head. The cup shook in his hands, there was a ringing in his ears, and-
~~~
He was in a doctorâs clinic.
He was sitting on a bare white bed, a bloodied bandage wrapped around his midsection. His hands were in his lap, and he felt exhausted.
Uncle Scrooge stood in front of him, one hand on his cane. His hat was resting on a nearby countertop, and he wore a strange, guilty expression.
âIâm sorry, Louie.â He told him quietly. âI shouldâve been there.â
âMm-hm.â Louie grunted noncommittedly.
Both Louie and June had been whisked away to the village doctorâs clinic the moment the family had escaped from Castelo de Cristo. Both of their injuries were flesh wounds, though June had lost a lot more blood than Louie had. It took a while for her to wake up, and neither Donald, May nor Webby left her side until she did. When Louie saw her, she was sporting bandages around her head that held a thick gauze to her wound.
Louieâs complication was the poison â the bulezauâs barbed tail had delivered a potent venom into his system. It was a small dose, thankfully, but it was still enough to warrant an overnight stay at the clinic.
Scrooge was talking again. Louie wasnât listening. He just nodded dumbly and said, âOkayâ whenever the talking stopped. Eventually, Scrooge left the room, leaving Dewey as the only other person in the room, sitting in a nearby chair. Louie didnât look at him. He just looked at the ground, his hands in his lap, and the tortured expression of the murdered girl burned into his retinas. He remained in that state for the rest of the day. It still hurt to move, and he needed to lean on Dewey to walk, so all he could do was sit on the bed and wait.
They were back on the plane in what felt like no time at all, and the flight felt like it only took an hour. Louie kept his distance from the others, sitting up on the upper level buried in his hoodie. He didnât speak for the whole trip, not even when they landed back at the mansion. Huey and Della immediately rushed to his side, helping him walk back into the house and worrying ceaselessly over him, and Louie saw the other adults rushing out of the house as well.
Louie didnât think heâd ever seen Daisy so terrified. She ran up to June immediately, hugging her tightly and apologizing profusely over and over again. June didnât look like she knew how to react at all. She just lent dumbly into her foster motherâs embrace, allowing herself to be led back into the house with Donald and May in tow.
Webby followed them with Mrs. Beakley beside her. Neither she nor Louie spared a glance at each other.
Louie was taken to his bedroom by his mom, with both his brothers in tow. He had to move slow, every step causing a dull pain in his stomach. He was sat down gently on his bed, Della kneeling before him. âHey,â she said softly. âHow are you feeling?â
Louie grunted weakly, holding his wound.
âDo you want a can of Pep?â
ââŠYeah.â
âComing right up.â She stood back up, looking at all three of them. âYou donât have to worry about going to school tomorrow. Weâve told them whatâs⊠well, weâve given them a sanitised version of the story. Youâve all been through enough without having to angst about tests and stuff.â
Dewey frowned. âWhat happened to Huey?â
ââŠSomething happened while you were away.â Della replied evasively. âBut we donât have to get into it now. Whatâs important is that you all recover from this, so youâll stay at home. Weâll set up some sessions with Dr. Lake, maybe a-â
âNo.â Louie interrupted.
ââŠLouie, you canât-â
âYou guys can do whatever you want, but Iâm not seeing him.â Louie declared stubbornly.
ââŠAlright.â Della sighed. âYou need to physically recover first, anyway. Just rest up, donât exert yourself⊠if you need anything, just call me or your brothers. Okay?â
âYep.â
Della gave him a weak smile, then left the three of them in the room.
Once she was out of earshot, Louie looked up at Huey. âTell us what happened while we were gone.â He told him bluntly.
Huey hesitated. ââŠLouie, I donât think you need to be-â
âI need to distract myself, Huey. Anything to stop me from thinking about last adventure or the pain, okay?â
âOr the stuff you said to Webby.â Dewey added, giving him a look.
ââŠI was kinda hoping Iâd dreamt that.â Louie muttered.
âWell, you didnât, and I feel like she deserves an apology.â
âLater. Nowâs too soon.â
âWhat did you say to Webby?â Huey asked slowly.
âJust- tell us what happened.â Louie all but begged him. âWhatever it was, I can guarantee that it wasnât as fucked up as what happened to us.â
âLanguage.â Huey chastised him.
With both of his brothers looking at him now, he sighed, reluctantly explaining, âIf you must know, I got accosted at school the other day by someone from the FBI.â
âThe what?â Dewey exclaimed in disbelief.
ââŠThe Federal Bureau of Invest-â
âI meant like âwhat the hellâ, dude. I know what the FBI is.â Dewey replied, annoyed.
Louie leaned forward, wincing as he did. ââŠWhat did the FBI want with you? Did they confuse you for me or something?â
âNo, they- wait, why would they want to talk to you?â
âI dunno, Iâm just the more suspicious one.â
ââŠRight. Well, what he wantedâŠâ Huey continued, sitting on Louieâs desk chair. âAnd this is where it gets weird â he wanted me to talk about the Other Bin. Where we keep the dangerous stuff.â
âTheâŠâ Dewey frowned. âIsnât that, like, top secret? I mean, we didnât even know about it for like, two years.â
âIt is. But he knew about it somehow. Or at least, he knew about some of the items we keep down there.â
âHow?â
âNo idea. But I did some research, and the guy who spoke to meâŠâ Huey pulled out his phone. âHis name is Agent Nickel, and â this is where it gets even weirder â heâs behind this.â
He brought up a picture of a large, dark figure being shoved into a police car, showing it to both of them. Louie narrowed his eyes at what he saw, asking cautiously, âThatâs⊠thatâs that âPhantom Blotâ guy, isnât it?â
âYep. And thisâŠâ Huey swiped through his gallery. ââŠis Steelbeak, being brought in by the Arizona police. And this is Rockerduck,â He added, swiping to the next picture. âAlso getting arrested. And this one- well, we didnât fight him, but he was one of FOWLâs administrators. All of these senior-level FOWL agents, everyone who fled from the fight at Alexandria, almost all of them are in prison now â and this Agent Nickel guy was behind all of those arrests.â
âHoly crapâŠâ Dewey murmured.
âLang-â
âThis guy brought down FOWL! I mean, we defeated them first, but he- wait, shouldnât this mean that heâs on our side?â Dewey questioned confusedly. âHe obviously knows FOWL were the bad guys, whyâs he after us?â
âI donât know.â Huey admitted, putting his phone away. âIt doesn't make sense.â
âMaybe heâs covering his tracks?â Louie suggested. âLikeâŠâ He winced as he shifted his position, ââŠthereâs no way that this guy just happened to know exactly where all of these FOWL guys were hiding out. Thatâs something you can only learn from the inside.â
âYou mean Nickelâs ex-FOWL?â Huey frowned. âThat explains the arrests, but what does he have to gain by going after Uncle Scrooge?â
Louie shrugged. âDunno.â
He felt his phone ping in his hoodie pocket. He frowned, pulling it out and looking at it.
It was from Doofus Drake.
âSo, what happens now?â Dewey asked. âLike, we canât go on another adventure if weâre being watched by the government, right?â
âI donât think weâd be going on another adventure regardless.â Huey replied flatly. âNot after what happened on this one.â
Louie put his phone away, trying not to betray the surge of panic heâd gotten. âYeah, nah, dude. This adventure was a disaster.â
The door opened again, and Della stepped in with a cool glass of Pep in her hand. âHey, dudes.â She handed the glass over to Louie. âHere you go.â
âThanks, mom.â Louie murmured, taking the glass and taking a long sip of it. After a moment, he asked quietly, âCould I be, like, left alone for a bit?â
âYou sure? You donât want to talk about-â
âNo.â Louie replied brusquely. Hesitating, he added less harshly, âNot⊠yet. I just⊠need to be alone.â
Della shared a concerned look with her other two sons, then replied, ââŠAlright. If you need anything, just shoot a text to me or your brothers, âkay?â
âYeah.â
Della hesitated, then added, ââŠYou donât have to see the doctor if you donât want to. But you should still talk to someone about stuff like this. Trust me, if you just let it stewâŠâ
âYeah, I know.â
Reluctantly, they left his room, leaving Louie alone. He waited a few moments after they left, listening to their footsteps disappear down the corridor, then he pulled his phone out again, checking Doofusâs message.
I see youâve returned, it read. Bring my present to where we last met. Sooner rather than later.
âGod⊠fuck.â Louie swore under his breath. He stood up, wincing at the pain, and trudged to his door. He opened it, looking down both directions of the corridor, just in case either of his brothers were secretly listening. Seeing nobody, he shut his door and hobbled back to his bed, dialling the number that the text had come from.
Only a few seconds later, there was an answer from the other end. âLlewellyn.â Doofus greeted him boredly.
âHey, Doofus, buddy!â Louie replied, trying to sound confident. âHey, look, Iâm gonna just say it and save us both a car trip â I donât have a treasure for you.â
ââŠIs that so?â Doofus replied disinterestedly.
âYeah, I know. I know how it looks, but the thing is-â Louie bit back a hiss of pain as he sat down on the bed. ââŠmy uncle had been duped. There wasnât any treasure for me to grab, so- so you canât exactly blame me for not-â
âI thought I was clear, Llewellyn.â Doofus interrupted him. âBring me my trinkets, or your school finds something⊠unpleasant in your locker.â
âI know, but there- there were no trinkets to nab.â Louie chuckled nervously. âYou gotta understand that!â
âI believe I mentioned, last we spoke, about perusing your uncleâs collection?â
âThatâs not an alternative. Heâll know, man.â
âWe both know thatâs not my problem.â
âLook, just- be reasonable.â Louie groaned. Thinking quickly, he told him, âMy family goes adventuring every weekend, right? Why canât I just get you something on our next adventure?â
âAnd give you and Chanda time to ruin me?â
Louie froze. He heard Doofus chuckle and remark, âYes⊠I know you two are plotting against me. Really, Llewellyn? Trying to wriggle out the moment youâre out of earshot?â
Louie took a few moments to compose his answer, replying carefully, ââŠGuys like us donât like being blackmailed, Doof. I feel like youâd do something similar in my position.â
âHm.â Doofus sounded amused.
Louie sighed, continuing, âLook, your blackmail isnât going to work anyway. I donât know if you caught on from how awful my voice sounds right now, but Iâm not going into school this week. And if a bag of weed just magically shows up in my locker when Iâm not even there, I can refute that easily, canât I?â
When Doofus didnât respond, Louie insisted, âYou have to give me a week.â
ââŠHm.â Doofus didnât sound so amused this time.
After a moment, he said coldly, âNext Sunday. I want something by then.â
âI can get you something by Sunday.â Louie lied.
âAnd I expect it to be gift-wrapped.â Doofus added before hanging up.
âOf course, yeah.â Louie chuckled to himself in the brief moments before his smile vanished. âFuck you. Fuck you all the way to Hell.â
He slowly laid down on his bed, throwing his phone to the side and staring hopelessly up at the ceiling. He already knew he was going to have a bad week.
~~~
Bentina handed Webby a glass of water. âHere. This will help.â
ââŠThanks.â Webby mumbled, taking the glass and taking a sip.
They were in Webbyâs room, on the library floor. Webby was sitting on the stairs leading up to her proper bedroom, with Bentina kneeling before her. She had a hand on her granddaughterâs shoulder, looking sympathetically into her eyes.
ââŠDo you need anything else?â Bentina asked.
Webby shook her head, taking another sip of water. âNo.â
Bentina was quiet for a moment, before saying softly, âThose men⊠they were trying to kill you.â
âI know.â
âIf it hadnât been for whoever saved you, you would be in a much worse place. You know that?â
Webby frowned, looking up at her. âAre⊠you trying to make me feel better about it?â
âIâm trying to make you understand that it couldnât have gone any other way.â Bentina told her. When Webby didnât respond, Bentina insisted, âIt had to be done.â
ââŠI donât like that idea.â Webby murmured.
Thatâs because youâre young, Bentina thought to herself. But she said nothing, only looked at her granddaughter sadly.
ââŠIâll get you something sweeter.â She decided, standing up. âApple juice?â
ââŠYes, please.â
Bentina left the room, leaving the door open behind her. She made her way to the kitchen, where she found Donald, Daisy, and Scrooge having a hushed conversation. They stopped as she entered, though it didnât escape Bentinaâs notice that their words had a somewhat heated edge.
ââŠHowâs Webby?â Daisy asked anxiously.
âItâll take a while. But sheâll be fine.â Bentina replied. âMay and June?â
ââŠMayâs alright.â Daisy answered her, worry painted across her face. âBut June⊠sheâs barely said a word since she got back. Itâs like sheâs catatonic.â
âSheâs had a head wound. Sheâll recover in time.â
She walked over to the fridge, opening it and pulling out a bottle of juice.
âYou can stop blaming yourselves, by the way.â Bentina added over her shoulder.
âIt was our adventure.â Donald lamented, shaking his head.
âWe sent them there, Bentina.â Daisy insisted. âJune and Louie got hurt â seriously hurt â because we didnât see this coming.â
âHow would you have seen this coming?â Bentina questioned simply, walking over and putting the bottle on the table. âOur research gave no indication that anyone had lived in those ruins for centuries. And the only hint we would have had of them was a single missing person report. There was no way you could have known.â
âGoldie did.â Scrooge spoke up miserably. âShe up and told me to my face. I didnât listen.â
Bentina frowned. She opened up one of the cupboards, replying, âWell, youâve made worse lapses in judgement.â
Scrooge gave her an angry glare. âA lass died, Bentina. Barely older than the kids.â
âAnd sitting here, feeling sorry for ourselves, will not bring her back or make the children feel any better.â Bentina said dryly. She put down the glass for Webby, inquiring, âYou contacted the Portuguese authorities, yes? You told them what happened?â
ââŠI gave them a truncated version of it, aye.â
âAnd her family has her body?â
âAye.â
âThen that is all that we can do.â Bentina told them simply, pouring the glass.
The kitchen door opened again. Della walked in, looking just as tired as the rest of them. âHey.â She murmured. The others greeted her back.
âHow are the boys?â Donald quacked concernedly.
ââŠDeweyâs handling it pretty well.â Della sighed, heading over to the fridge and reaching towards the top. âThat boyâs unshakeable. But LouieâŠâ
She took down a bottle of Irish whisky, admitting, ââŠHeâs not gonna be okay for a while. Heâs been doing so well, opening up to us and everything, but after this⊠I wouldnât be surprised if he starts pushing us away again.â She laid out a number of glasses on the table, asking, âAnyone want some?â
They all nodded, save Bentina. Della poured the four drinkers a shot each, then promptly drank hers in one gulp. Everyone else took a sip of their glass.
âGod, those poor fuckinâ parents.â Della muttered, pouring herself another shot. âCanât imagine what theyâre going through right now.â
âIf it hadnât been for that gunman, weâd be going through it too.â Donald mumbled.
âGod⊠the idea of losing one of them makes me wanna puke.â Della winced. Holding up her glass, she asked frustratedly. âAnd we have no idea who that guy was? Not even a hint?â
âNope.â
âGreat.â Della muttered, downing her drink. âOne more mystery to deal with.â
Donald nodded. Then, he frowned, looking up at her. ââŠOne more?â
âHuey got accosted by someone at school.â Daisy muttered, her drink untouched. âFrom the FBI, apparently, talking about-â
Scrooge suddenly bent over in a coughing fit, slamming his half-finished drink on the table. He waved them away as they came to try and support him, thumping his chest as he cleared out his throat. When it was over, he looked back up at his family in shock and anger.
ââŠWhat?â He hissed.
#ducktales aftermath#ducktales#ducktales 2017#fanfiction#scrooge mcduck#louie duck#dewey duck#huey duck#webby vanderquack#donald duck#daisy duck#della duck#bentina beakley
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The Weekend
Summary: Steve and Connie visit you and Javier in Texas; Connie realizes something new about you that changes everything.
Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (The same from my Sweet Summer Series - there is a mention of the reader having hair again, but no other details)
Rating: 18+ (to be safe)
Word Count: 3,790 (ish)
Warnings: Anxiety/angst, fluff, fowl language, pov changes, and mentions of pregnancy symptoms
Authorâs Note: This can easily be read as a regular oneshot if you haven't read the series yet/don't want to. Anyway, I was so excited to write this one cause I've wanted to write Steve, Connie, and Chucho since all of last year, I just never thought of a plot for it until now. (Chucho still didn't get enough love here, but someday, maybe, it'll happen). Anyway, apparently I won't stop until pretty much every Pedro character is either a first time dad or a dad again. Sorry, not sorry.
xxx
The first time you met Steve and Connie Murphy was on a weekend in mid-November, the same year you'd started dating Javier Peña. They'd driven from Florida with their daughter Olivia to stay at the ranch for a few days, Steve's excuse being that duck hunting season had started in Texas and he needed to show Javier how to actually shoot one, claiming his ex-partner was a shit shot and that it might take all weekend, leading to Javier to grumble under his breath and you to laugh.
They'd hugged despite initial hesitance from Javier and when he relaxed in Steve's embrace you understood then who they were to each other. Brothers, in every sense of the word but blood.
It only made sense from everything you'd gathered from Javier's father, the town, and later Connie and Steve himself. Colombia had been like a war zone, and war zones forged strong bonds, even unlikely ones. Not that Steve and Javier were all that different, you thought. After all, they'd shared the same goals while working together as DEA agents, they'd shared a similar capacity to do what needed to be done to reach those goals, and they'd both come back home with enough nightmares and regrets to last more than a lifetime. Connie had told you about nights where Steve startled from his sleep and didn't return to bed until morning and you'd shared with her that you'd caught Javier doing the same many times while you'd been dating, wandering outside in the middle of the night clearly in an attempt to empty his head of whatever was bothering him. Some nights he still smoked a cigarette or two before returning, the bad habit sometimes the only thing that helped calm him down at first, until he'd made some real progress with his therapist.
It was safe to say your first time meeting Connie and Steve had been eye-opening. It had helped you understand your boyfriend all the more, and you were grateful to them. Not just for the insight, but also for them having been there for Javier before you could be, and for them still wanting to be.
The second time they'd visited the ranch you and Javier were getting married and naturally Steve had been Javier's best man. Connie had also kindly accepted your offer to be maid of honor, since you hadn't had any real friends after you'd graduated college. Besides, after the first day you'd spent around her, you could've easily called her your best friend over all of your past friends. Connie was a very nice person.
You all had briefly seen each other once more when you and Javier had stopped by their house for a meal before heading out to the Keys for your honeymoon and that visit had been just as pleasant, ending with goodbyes and promises for future visits. You planned to make sure the Murphy family would always be a part of your lives.
And so they were back on the ranch the following November, Steve reaching out for Javier even as he roasted him once again. "Have to keep coming back until Javi is finally able to hit a bird. Any bird at this rate will do."
"Shut up, Murphy," Javier growled, though he couldn't hide the smile pulling at the edges of his lips. That made you grin, and it only grew broader when they hugged once more. You loved that your husband had a friend who understood him; who knew him from his darkest days.
"Let's get you all inside," you eventually said, herding them all towards the house, little Olivia tugging on your shirt sleeve as you followed them, looking up at you all adorably with her big brown eyes and wavy dark hair. "Food soon?"
You beamed down at her. "Soon. I'll have it ready in a half hour sweetie." You ruffled her hair a bit and she smiled up at you pleasantly before running ahead of everyone to fall to her knees before Trix, your red and white Basenji. Trix started licking her face like crazy and the little girl's giggles in reaction made your heart soar.
Once in the ranch house, Steve and Connie dragged their suitcases upstairs, into Chucho's old room. Chucho had moved out into a smaller, remodeled house on the south side of the property after you and Javier had married in June, on the day that marked the first year anniversary of your first meeting and date. It had once been a house for employees to stay during peak ranching days, but he'd claimed it was the right size for an old man of his age. You knew the real reason was because he wanted you and Javier to have your own space, because, though he hadn't said the words, you were pretty certain like most parents, he was hoping to become a grandfather.
While Steve And Connie were upstairs with Olivia settling in, you and Javier worked in the kitchen to finish chomping up fresh vegetables for the tossed salad you'd wanted alongside the main course of grilled chicken tacos which you were careful to monitor as the meat cooked.
They had just turned up at the kitchen table with Olivia when Chucho walked in, dressed in the cleanest white button down shirt and pair of blue jeans you'd seen him in since your wedding day. Everyone was in their best casual clothes. It wasn't every day they all got to gather together, after all. And it was almost Thanksgiving.
"Afternoon everyone," Chucho said cheerfully, snatching his cream colored cowboy hat off his head to hang on a hook by the main door. "Ya waiting on me?"
"You are just in time," you told him, smiling. You loved Chucho. He was as much of a father to you as your own, though you'd never admit it for your father's sake.
He settled at the table with Steve and Olivia while you, Javier, and Connie started to set the food out on it. You were feeling great physically and emotionally until you seemed to spin around too fast with the salad and barely managed to hold onto it, getting dizzy with the movement. Javier noticed your sway and pressed a palm to the middle of your back to steady you, concern evident in his expression. "Are you alright?" he inquired, frowning.
You nodded quickly. "I'm good." You weren't sure what had come over you, not being the type of person to easily get light headed, but you were feeling fine again as soon as the moment had passed so it was easy to brush off.
"Maybe you should see a doctor," Javier said lowly, only loud enough for you and a close by Connie to hear. Her eyes darted towards you both, and you could see the curiosity his words had peaked in her.
"You've been getting dizzy a lot lately," he continued.
"I'll set one up after the weekend," you promised him, more so he wouldn't draw the attention of any of your other guests. Whether you actually would or not was still up for debate. To you a little dizziness here and there wasn't enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. It was probably just a consequence of you being tired. You'd done some overtime at work recently and it had worn you down. You'd been going to bed early the previous four or five nights yet still hadn't made up for it. "But I feel fine, Javi. I swear."
He seemed satisfied with that for the time being, though he did insist on guiding you to the table to sit and had Connie finish helping him lay everything out.
The rest of dinner was pretty normal, filled with general chit chat about things like how Chucho and Javier were getting the cattle ready for winter, though it never got too cold in Texas, and how Olivia was adjusting to being in kindergarten.
Connie of all people seemed distracted the entire time, pondering, like she had something on her mind but wasn't sure how to say it. You were so concerned with her distant look that you almost didn't catch Javier sneaking a piece of chicken to Trix. Almost.
"Javi!" you exclaimed, dismayed, even though you'd suspected for a while that he'd been doing it. "No wonder she begs for food now!"
He gave you a sheepish look and Steve grinned from his seat on the other side of him. "Going soft in your old age, Jav."
Javier huffed and you giggled. You knew it wasn't because of his age though. He and his father had both always had a soft spot for dogs.
After that you forgot about how odd Connie was acting until you both cleared the dishes from the table and began washing them in the sink.
"I don't want to be nosy," she whispered to you just loud enough to hear over the background noise of everyone else still talking at the table, "But I can't help it. Do you think you could be pregnant?"
Her question caught you off guard and you starred at her, frozen in place with a soapy dripping plate still in your hands. "You think I could be?"
"Javi said you've been light headed a lot lately," Connie stated, "And you told me just the other day you've been tired. And you also mentioned eating something that hadn't agreed with you. You said you almost threw up."
The cheeseburger you'd had Wednesday night. You hadn't thought about it since.
You glanced around to make sure no one had gotten up from the table. "Are you suggesting it wasn't bad meat?"
"Might not have been," she replied. "I've been around enough pregnant mothers in my nursing career to know greasy foods can trigger morning sickness in them, especially at night."
"Ironic," you quipped. Calling that pregnancy symptom morning sickness was very misleading.
Connie gave you a stern look and waited.
"I shouldn't be," you told her eventually, leaning back against the counter. "I mean, we're not using as much protection as we used to, but I'm still on birth control."
"Any chance you missed a pill or two?" she inquired.
You pursed your lips as you thought about it and bit down on your bottom one after. "It's possible," you admitted. "I do get forgetful sometimes. Usually I'm pretty good about taking prescriptions, but..."
"Are you late?" she interrupted.
You didn't have to think about the answer for that one since your birth control pills always warned you when it was coming. "I might be a few days late. It's not outside the norm for me, but it's also not really inside it either since the pills are really good at keeping me on a strict schedule."
She nodded. "You have any tests here?"
"I have a few in the master bathroom," you told her.
She craned her head towards the table. "Mind finishing the clean up boys?" she called out. Javier and Steve gave you both puzzled looks but when she explained you wanted to show her something upstairs they agreed to do so with Olivia's help.
You watched briefly from the bottom of the stairs as Steve hoisted her up to sit on the countertop and Javier said something to her that wasn't quite loud enough for you to hear before booping her nose with a soap sudded finger, making her giggle, and your heart swelled.
He was so good with her.
Minutes later, Connie sat patiently on the bench in front of your bed while you took three pregnancy tests in the attached bathroom, to be extra sure, and took your hand in hers when you joined her to wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down.
"Have you and Javi talked about having kids before?" she asked gently.
"Of course we have," you answered with a sigh. "But we also agreed to wait a year before I got off the pill."
You weren't sure if you were quite prepared for it yet, but you knew you could ultimately handle whatever the results were, adapt your plans. What made you nervous was Javier. He was only just starting to find his peace, his healing, as much as anyone who'd been through what he had could. You weren't sure he'd be ready yet.
"I'm sure he'll be okay," Connie said knowingly, giving your hand a squeeze. "He's a good man and he loves you. I've never seen that man look at anyone like he does you."
The timer you'd set on your watch started beeping obnoxiously and you bolted for the sink where you'd placed the tests, anxiously scanning their result windows. There were two lines in each, which meant that they were all positive.
Without a doubt, you were pregnant.
Despite your concerns over how Javier would handle the news in that moment you were joyful, tears immediately flooding your eyes. Before meeting Javier you had lost all hope you'd ever get the chance to be a mother, but there you were, staring at three sticks that confirmed you would be one. You beamed at Connie when you walked back into the bedroom and she smiled back at you. "Congratulations."
You pitched into her arms and she squeezed you a little. "You're going to be a great mom. And if you need any advice, I'm one call away. Not that you can't call your mom too."
You chuckled as you also held onto her a little tighter. "I'm sure I'll need all the advice I can get."
You were fully aware that while you had wanted to be a mom for as long as you could remember, you hadn't had lots of interactions with babies. Olivia had hardly been a toddler anymore when you'd first met the Murphy family and you'd been an only child with an uncle and aunt who hadnât had any kids.
"You'll do great," Connie assured you as you pulled away and wiped at your tear stained cheeks with the backs of your hands.
You nodded. It was comforting to know she believed in you and that she'd be there if you needed her help. She may have not known what it was like to be pregnant because she and Steve had adopted Olivia while in Colombia, but you knew her advice would always be solid because she was an amazing mother. Everything you hoped you would be.
You glanced towards the hallway. "Should I tell him now?"
"Delaying it won't make it easier," she told you wisely, grasping your elbow. "Do you want me to send him up here?"
"That would be great, thanks," you said gratefully.
She smiled sweetly at you. "No problem."
With that she left the room and you paced as you waited for Javier to show up. You couldn't remember a time you'd ever been more nervous - and you'd had major anxiety every time you'd taken exams in college.
"Connie said you wanted to see me?" he questioned as he strolled into your shared bedroom less than a minute later. When he saw the stress on your face his expression grew concerned once more. "What happened? Are you feeling okay? Did you get light headed again?"
You shook your head furiously. "No. No, Javi." You approached him and cupped his face. "I'm fine. I promise. I just know why I've been off now."
"What is it?" he inquired, stance still tense with worry. He searched your eyes with his dark ones as if they could answer for you.
"We're going to be parents," you told him, barely above a whisper.
He jerked his head away from your hand and blinked at you, stunned. "You're pregnant?"
You gave him a single nod to confirm and he gaped at you before wrapping you up in his arms and burying his face in your hair. "Oh, mi amor."
You melted in his hold after his initial reaction and hugged him back. "You're not upset?"
He pulled away from you and frowned. "You thought I'd be upset?"
You folded your arms over your chest, slightly ashamed of your assumption. "I wasn't sure. You said you wanted to wait a year, and I agreed to it. I had every intention of waiting, but I think I might have forgotten a pill at some point. It was a mistake."
He shook his head and leaned forward to kiss your temple tenderly, then your lips, letting his forehead rest against yours after. "However this happened, any child of ours could never be a mistake, hermosa."
You felt the love in his words bloom in your chest, warming it, and you beamed up at him. "So you're happy?"
"Of course I am," he assured you, brushing his nose against yours.
You grinned wider and kissed him again. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."
He smiled back at you, though it didn't reach his eyes.
You were too excited to retell the story of how Connie got you to take the three tests to see that it was a front.
x
Once you'd told him the whole story, you'd lead Javi downstairs to announce your news to Steve and Chucho as well, and they'd pulled you both in for hugs after giving their cheerful congratulations.
"I'm going to be a grandfather," Chucho had boasted proudly and you'd smiled at him fondly. "You sure are."
Javier had been overwhelmed with how happy everyone was for you both, and a part of him was undeniably happy too, but another part, the part that sat in the darkest corner of his mind, said he didn't deserve it. He'd barely accepted that he was good enough for you, he didn't think that could extend to an innocent baby who had no say in who their father was.
He put on a show until his father left for his house, then excused himself to go hang out on the front porch alone, watching as clouds rolled in for an evening rain. It was fitting for his mood.
He should have known Steve would follow him out, handing a beer to him like it was some kind of peace offering.
He popped off the lid of his own bottle and took a sip before leaning on a beam at the front of the porch, across from him.
"Javier Peña, father," he said with a smile playing on his lips. "I'm honestly surprised." He quirked his brows. "Not that you are going to be one, but rather that it took so long, considering your reputation back in Bogotå."
Javier tilted his head, giving it to him. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised that a woman hadn't come forward to tell him she was pregnant while he was in Colombia. It wasn't like he'd been totally irresponsible, but the odds had to have been stacked against it not happening just by pure numbers. He'd had casual sex as a form of stress relief while he was there, just like smoking, and he couldn't deny he'd been very stressed during those years, especially since he hadn't always been able to keep his heart out of some of those said casual relations.
"I don't know if I'm ready yet," he admitted to his friend. "We just got married not that long ago. It took me months of therapy to work up to proposing to her and then going through with it. She kept insisting I was enough for her, that as long as I loved her that was enough, but I always still had that doubt at the back of my head. A part of me telling me she could do better."
"She could," Steve stated plainly, taking another sip of his drink. "And what about Connie? You think I deserved her?"
Javier snorted. "No."
"Exactly!" Steve exclaimed, pointing the lip of his bottle at his shoulder and grinning. "But that's not the point! Something Connie and several sessions of couples therapy when I got back to Miami taught me is that marriage isn't about what anyone deserves. It's about what you're willing to do for your partner. Who you're willing to be for them. And it's the same with being a father. I was a mess when we found Olivia. I didn't know what I was doing. And I'm not going to lie, it wasn't easy, but I did eventually learn how to be the dad she deserves. If you want to be, chances are you will be. It's as simple as that."
Javier glanced down at the bottle in his hands and swished the liquid inside, trying to find his words. "I do...want to be," he told him quietly.
Steve nodded. "That's good to hear. Because the one thing your wife definitely does not deserve is you running out on her now."
Javier clenched his jaw. "I'd never do that to her!" he hissed, outraged at the mere idea of it. "Lorraine was different. I was different. Back then I had the thought that marrying her would hold me back from my dreams of seeing the world and making a difference. Now I know better." He adjusted his stance and met his friend's eyes before continuing, "And I know being a parent can be tough, whether or not you're as fucked up as I am, but I do want this, more than I ever imagined I would."
"Shit, Jav," Steve said, the edges of his mouth pulling up, "Don't tell me that. Tell her."
He was right. Though Javier was sure you hadn't noticed, he still needed to tell you all of it. To assure you that he loved you and that he was going to be there for you, the both of you.
He chuckled and Steve raised a brow at him, uncertain of what was so funny.
"You ever consider a side job as a shrink?" Javier smirked and Steve huffed at him. "Depends, you ever gonna hit a bird?"
"Fuck you. You distracted me last time!"
Steve nodded at him as an amused gleam sparked in his pale blue eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say, Jav."
He patted his shoulder. "See ya in the mornin'."
Javier grunted a goodnight to him and entered the house to find you waiting in the kitchen, a broad smile on your face. He realized then that the screen door's window had been open.
"How much of that did you hear?" he asked.
You strolled over to him and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Enough to know you're going to be a great father, whether you believe it or not."
"Say that again," he murmured against your lips, his heart feeling like it wanted to burst out of his chest.
You understood, you always did. You placed a hand over his heart. "You're going to be a father, Javi."
He grinned at you and scooped you up into his arms. "Thank you for that."
"I couldn't imagine having a baby with anyone else," you told him honestly, and the love in your eyes left no room for him to doubt it, so he didn't.
You spent the rest of the night in each other's arms.
xxx
Tagged: @angelofsmalldeath-codeineâ @yoursoulsunbreakable @harriedandharassed
xxx
Sweet Summer Series
New Year's Promise
Main Masterlist
xxx
#Javier Pena#Narcos#Javier Pena Fanfic (Mine)#Narcos Fanfic#Fanfiction#X Reader#Mine#Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic#Sweet Summer Series#Queue Me
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28 - Where We Started
Part 29
Family is More than Blood
@icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality
Laying on one of the beds in the supposed Mikaelsonâs mansion as it is called. Staring at the ring I held in between my thumbs and index fingers I kept trying to piece together what I had apparently lost. My phone rang and broke the silence in the room. âHello, who is this?â
âDonât tell me that you have forgotten me, Rae.â It took me a minute before I could recognize that it was the voice of Cami.
Sitting the ring down in my lap I slowly replied. âHow could I forget you, you are my one my sired vampires after all.â
âWell that's reassuring. I wish I could have the same hope for you remembering your husband.â She said softly before I changed the call to video.
âWhy does everyone seem to think he is my type? I mean yes I adore the accent but I think Iâd remember the man that everyone says Iâm supposed to spend all eternity with.â I shake my head in a huff.
Cami sends me a half smile. âRaelyn, I know itâs hard to believe and I admit that he doesnât exactly have the best track record. Until it came to when he met you.â
âWhat did you mean until I came into his life?â I questioned her, still so confused.
The young New Orleans vampire focused on my gaze. âHe was the most ruthless vampire who ever walked the earth and had no emotion. Then you met him at the Mystic Falls bar and there was a light about you that he was drawn towards.â
âSo a Beauty and the Beast type fairytale.â Shrugging my shoulders I tilted my head in disbelief. âUnfortunately Cami, we don't live in our childhood. The real world doesnât mean that all the tales we were told can actually happen here as adults.â
âYou just donât see it because you donât remember how you truly feel about him. I canât imagine how hard this is for you but Iâm just saying that you need to give him the same chance you gave him the first time you met.â Cami waited for my response.
I could sense that someone was watching me from the doorway so I hung up the phone quickly. âIâll try my best. Talk to you laterâŠ.using Cami and her ways of Psychology to convince me to give you a chance. You couldn't manage that yourself I see.â Shifting my gaze to the doorway I saw Klaus leaning with his hands behind his back.
âI must admit our therapist friend wasnât a part of my plan. But I do hope you consider the advice sheâs given you about me.â He stepped into the bedroom keeping his distance from me after our encounter the other day.
Hugging my knees to my chest I released a breath. âI may consider it. So what exactly do you want from me today?â
âWell my previous request hasnât changed from the other night, Ms. Lane. So Iâd wish to take you on a date again.â He clicked his tongue and came to sit on the edge of the bed where our gazes actually met for the first time this morning.
Tapping my fingers on my legs I paused for a moment in thought. âOkay I did agree to go out with you and I donât back away from a deal. Where are we going exactly?â
âI already have a spot picked out. Donât worry I know youâll like it. Nothing too fancy just like you like.â Klaus responds turning on his heels vamping out of the bedroom keeping his answers vague. âBe ready and downstairs at six.â
Time seemed to go fast until it was almost five o clock and I still hadnât decided on what I was going to wear for this date. Looking through my closet I grumbled typing away on my phone until I found Rebekahâs number. Holding it up to my ear she immediately answered my call. âHey Rae, what do you need?â
âBex, youâre uhâŠbrother has me going on a date. I donât remember him but I have no clue what to wear for tonight. Please help me.â I explained flopping down on the edge of the bed.
She paused and turned on a video call so I showed her the closest of what I had. She didnât live in this town anymore and had made a permanent home in Orleans with Marcel. She finally responded, not finding anything that she knew would be good. âHmm go to my old room and see if thereâs a dark red dress and pair it with your brown ankle boots. Leave your hair down completely too.â
âI'm not gonna take your clothes, Bex.â I told her I would feel guilty if I did so.
The original vampire sent me a smile shaking her head side to side. âDonât feel guilty, Rae Rae. We are sisters in law even if you can't currently remember bedding my brother.â
âRebekah!â I scolded her, feeling my face turn red at the thought.
She sends me a raised brow with the same gentle smile. âItâs just me speaking the truth, Rae. Now go put on that dress and enjoy your date.â We hung up the phone and I went into her old bedroom. Slipping the dress over my head it fell loosely down my body. It was a good fit on my hips, short sleeve and it had a v neck cut out. It also fell just to my knees and paired it with my brown ankle boots.
Moving down the hallway I vamped down the stairs looking around the room until my eyes found Klaus at the bottom of the stairs. Sliding my hand down the railing I released a breath feeling his blue eyes scanning me up and down. âYou look elegant as always, Ms. Lane.â He raised a hand to me and I placed my hand in his larger one.
âYou don't have to call me, Ms. Lane. I may not be wearing your ring but you can still call me just Raelyn.â I responded to him allowing my gaze to trail him up and down. He was wearing casual clothing. He had a black jacket thrown over a dark gray shirt. I could also note that he was wearing a dog tag necklace that appears to have a blue gem inside of it. Raising my freehand I held it in between my fingers. âWhat's this gem? It wasn't there before, was it?â
Klaus shakes his head no. âIt wasn't, I promise. I decided to add it to my necklace because it matches your eyes and it's the same gemstone your brotherâs old necklace was made of.â
âYou choose to represent me?â I smiled, dropping my hands to my sides, feeling touched. âThat's kinda cute.â
Klaus sent me a bright smile hoping that his plan would work tonight and that everything would return to normal for the two most powerful creatures on the planet. âSo shall we get this evening started?â He questioned me offering his arm and I looped mine through his and he vamped me out of the mansion and we ended up outside the local Mystic Grill.
âThe Grill, why here of all places. I'm not complaining, just curious.â I glanced at the hybrid removing my arm from his before we headed inside and up to the bar. Klaus sat down first eyeing the bartender nodding his direction. âOld scotch and a Apple cider beer for the lady.â
The bartender left us alone and I put my face in my hands sending him a curious look. âHow could you know that? I never told anyone what I like to drink.â
âI told you that I know everything about you, did I not?â He sent me a cheeky smile, raising his glass to his lips when the bartender brought them to us. âI also knew that you wouldn't want something big and flashy. And this spot has special meaning to us.â
Taking a long sip of my drink I knitted my brows together. âSpecial meaning how?â
âThis is the exact spot where we first met. Can I show you?â He flipped over his freehand waiting for my reply. Lowering my gaze to his hand I slipped my fingers through his before a memory flashes through my mind.
A glass gets slid my way when the front door of the bar opened and someone walked up taking a seat beside me. "Strong scotch. May I ask what is troubling a lady like yourself?" My ears picked up on a British accent causing me to whip my head throwing my hair around.
The stranger smiles in my direction picking up a drink Matt had brought him that I hadn't noticed until now. "Unfortunately I don't talk to strangers so no." I scoffed, flipping my hair towards him.
The British man chuckled, taking a long sip from his glass still eyeing me from the corner of his eyes. I can feel my heart starting to flutter at hearing his laugh. "Then let's change that. My name's Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson." He sticks his hand out towards me turning in his chair to face me.
I nearly choked on my drink having to quickly sit the glass down. Hitting my chest as I have a coughing fit in an attempt to not choke. Eyeing him with uncertainty I put my hand in his shaking it slowly biting my lip. Klaus started to pull away but I siphon his hand suddenly twisting his wrist slamming him against the wall with my other hand holding him there.
"Ergh - what are you girl!" He grunts against the wall trying to break free.
Slowly walking up to him I keep my hand raised in front of me holding him there. Eyeing him up and down Klaus has dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that are now turning gold. He clutched his hands into fists still trying to fight against my grip. But somehow I knew I could take him, maybe now that I took my brother's power it gave me a booster. "There's something about you that I don't trust, Klaus. I trusted people closest to me and they betrayed me. So I'm not falling for your charms."
Turning my hand I dropped him to the ground where he growled up at me, heading for the door glancing over my shoulder I kept a brave face to him. "As for my name it's Raelyn Lane. I'd stay away if I were you, Mr. Mikaelson."
âWoahâŠI suppose not everyone gets to have an easy first meeting. So what other things do you supposedly know about me hmm?â I asked him in a teasing manner, resting my chin in the palm of my freehand.
Klaus sat his drink back down on the bar table. âOne of your favorite movies isâŠ.â
âThe Hunger Games Series.â We responded in sync where our faces got closer to one another until I drew back blinking my eyes a few times. Leaning back on my barstool I crossed my arms over my chest. âYou canât seriously know everything.â
The smile on his face turned into a proud smirk in a split second. âIâll take that as a challenge, Raelyn Lane.â
âWeâll see about that, Klaus.â I took a long sip of my drink, closing my eyes briefly and heard a plate get slid across to me. I gasped choking on the liquid that went down my throat seeing steak and shrimp in front of me. âHoly crap. No, this is not acceptable.ïżœïżœïżœ
He intertwined his hands together, shaking his head in defense at me. âIt is entirely acceptable. I told you on our first date that money isnât an issue. That you deserve to have the whole world at your fingertips.â
âI still think youâre a really good stalker because thereâs no way you can know all the little things that I like.â I cut some pieces of steak and ate in silence without hearing him get down from his stool.
Klaus watched the bartender he had compelled leave the room. The hybrid went over and took a microphone from the stage pausing while he stared at the heretic in front of him. Nothing had scared him for a thousand years except his father Mikeal, but the thought of losing her was even worse. He raised the microphone to his mouth slowly singing behind her. â đ¶
Well, look who it is
Last call, I thought I'd get
How's your mama, how you've been?
Girl, it's been too long
Saw your sister at the Circle K
Heard baby number two was on the way
Hadn't seen her since her weddin' day
With you on my arm
It's good to hear from you again
Girl what a coincidence
I was just thinkin' 'bout that weekend out on Cumberland Lake
And that one time in Baton Rouge when we made out in the rain
Where we went chasin' fallin' stars on a hill at your daddy's farm
Don't be sorry for callin' me up right out of the blue
I was just thinkin' 'bout you
I was just thinkin' 'bout you.â
âHey, I just gotta say I heard your song the other day
And it put a smile on my face when I started reminiscing
I've been on the edge of callin' you
And I'm so glad I decided toâŠ.â I trailed off dropping the fork in my hands slowly looking over my shoulder seeing him standing behind me. My heart skipped a beat recognizing the song that he had chosen. In a creepy and romantic sort of way he was checking the boxes.
Sliding off the barstool I walked up to him until we were almost pressed up against the other. Placing my hands over his that held the microphone we finished the song with me jumping around in my own free style dance at the end singing the last few lines. âI was just thinkin' 'bout that weekend out on Cumberland Lake
And that one time in Baton Rouge when we made out in the rain
Where we went chasin' fallin' stars on a hill at your daddy's farm
Don't be sorry for callin' me up right out of the blue
I was just thinkin' 'bout you
Oh, I was just thinkin' 'bout you.
If you're ever back in town
Do what you're doin' right now
'Cause I'm probably thinkin' 'bout you
I was just thinkin' 'bout that weekend out on Cumberland Lake
And that one time in Baton Rouge when we made out in the rain
Where we went chasin' fallin' stars on a hill at your daddy's farm
Don't be sorry for callin' me up right out of the blue
I was just thinkin' 'bout you
ïżœïżœ â
I finally stopped dancing around when my hair fell completely in front of my eyes. I tried my best to get it out of the way but I only made it worse. I finally felt Klaus place his hands on my head brushing it down and away with his fingers. âCan't take you anywhere can I, Rae?â
âI guess not, KlausâŠ.Youâre not so bad of a romantic.â I grinned looking up into his blue eyes resting one of my hands on his face that he leaned into.
He leans down where I thought he was going to kiss me again yet he only let his lips hover above mine. âI'll take that as a startâŠ.goodnight Raelyn.â He whispered and I shut my eyes seeing he was gone the second I opened them. Running a hand through my hair I covered my mouth with my hands releasing a breath figuring that whatever this was it was going to be interesting for sure.
Comments really appreciated â€ïž
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It's nearly 3 am
It's really dark tonight where I live.
I can see a few faint stars through my window and the glow of streetlights nearby.
My dog has noticed I'm awake, I can feel her judging me because of the *click click* of my keyboard as I'm sitting in bed, writing in this new kind of blog I am doing.
I can hear the wind through the slightly open window, bringing in a cool draft that I am strangely enjoying. I am a consistently cold human but here I am.
Sometimes I can even hear one of the London Underground trains just pulling into the local station, wheels clacking over the rails as it rounds the bend and into the town itself. I've been on that train, not this early but, as I live outside of London and used to have a need of going to things like galleries and exhibitions, the sound is somewhat soothing to me.
It brings back fond memories of a time when my brother, who is older than me by eight years, used to take me up to London with him. He was massively into Photography then, film mostly, and holds a bachelors in it after his own struggle with his mental health.
He doesn't do it much anymore and I also fell out of love with it after studying it for two years and spectacularly shredding all of my previous sketchbooks as a way of dramatically telling myself and the world around me that I had defeated this little nagging thing called
Self-criticism.
We've all been there, haven't we? Mine is just a generational family trait apparently as my father has it too.
I haven't quite defeated that little part of myself yet but in a way that crippling, nagging little demon living in my head has taught me so much.
It has taught me to really listen to myself.
I know, a bad idea for some but for others, me included, I had completely lost that sense of
Am I doing the right thing by myself?
I learned so much in college, don't get me wrong. I can still take photos but I wasn't being true to myself while doing it. I had the sudden inspiration to make something cool but I wasn't doing it for myself, I was doing it for whatever little demon was in my head telling me it was what I wanted to do with my life.
No, past me, it wasn't. Was it?
If I could have sat myself down back then and told myself what to do, I would probably have said...
Are you sure? Are you 100% sure this is what you want to do?
Halfway through the two-year course, I should have seen the writing on the wall. I was in therapy for anxiety and panic attacks. My therapist Becky should have looked me in the eye and asked me yet another question.
Is there something under the surface of this anxiety?
Oh, young me of course there was but you didn't want to admit to yourself that instead of doing your coursework, you were writing stories. Instead of working on photos, you were trying to hold yourself together. You would spend hours in the black and white film processing lab just reveling in the fact you weren't in a classroom you know you didn't want to be in. You enjoyed the processing because you were in a room the size of an average portaloo in the pitch dark where you could just listen to yourself breathe for five minutes, or ten if the film didn't go on the reel.
And you were working at the same time at the local supermarket, straight after college on Thursdays and Fridays and on Saturday evenings. Yeah, you had a good time with your friends but you enjoyed work more.
Only one of those people was your friend then, and she didn't stay that way for long.
I only have a couple of friends now and I don't see them often or at all for most of the year.
I won't lie to myself and say I'm not lonely
I am.
I really am.
But past me, you were kinda lonely too. You've always struggled to make friends, and you were bullied a hell of a lot in every year of school. Kids are cruel and you were vulnerable.
I still haven't figured out why but I'm at peace with the fact that that will always be a part of me. I don't think I'm sensitive, nor do I blame the ones that did it.
They say Sticks and Stones will break your bones and words will never hurt you but, my god, words do hurt.
I think it fundamentally changed me as a person. An overused expression that someone out there will call me dramatic for.
But I digress.
It changed me because while I'm not that kid scared of going into a classroom without my mum, I am now a person that is just beginning to do things on my own. It's weird, I'm 21 but it is taking me a long time to figure myself out.
That might be a symptom of something or just a symptom of my upbringing but here I am just figuring out my life.
That bullying has changed me because, while I never used to be outgoing, I was one of those people who could just listen and that remains. I won't pat myself on the head and give myself a gold star for being a good listener, I will however give myself some credit where credit is due.
I haven't lost that part of myself.
Even in this uphill battle of mental health, I have not lost the ability to listen. While I have had my own problems and shutting down for days, I would still read a long-winded text from someone about their own problems and provide a shoulder to cry on or an ear to scream into if they needed it.
Heck, It didn't even stick to my circle of family and friends.
I still do that now and I probably always will.
And listening to myself took a long time to learn. It's odd really, being able to listen to others and yet not being able to listen to yourself.
Now I don't have that inner voice thing a lot of people have. I don't have the whole Homer Simpson screaming thing going on in my head to tell me something is wrong. I have to break a cycle to see if it was one.
I had to think, I had to have an epiphany (no joke) on a train to one of those beloved exhibitions while trying to figure out how to do a project to make me realise I was unhappy. I went to my tutor the next day, asked him if I could speak to him quietly, and told him that I would shred all of my textbooks because I hated and I mean hated what I had become while doing them.
I don't have any photos of that beautiful, shapely pile of shredded work, shredded photo paper, and torn sketchbooks but to those who can imagine perfectly
Picture a round grey rug in the slap-bang middle of a studio, piled high with a mound of shredded paper in the middle. One of those folding tables that you had when you were off ill from school and your parent (or guardian) would make you something like toast and, because they didn't want crumbs on the sofa or the floor, they would get out one of these wooden, folding tables so you had to sit up, feeling like death, and eat. On the plus side, you could watch daytime television while enjoying dry toast.
Now add to this picture, with added fond memories of Bargain Hunt, one of those bendy lamps that kinda look like the ones from the Pixar logo except that it's got a weird noodly jointed bit in the middle. That is shining on this pile of stuff, like a comical ray of a god's light on a mortal in some kind of Disney movie.
That is what it looked like.
I never got to see it. I wish I had because that was, unknowingly, the first time I listened to myself.
I never looked back after that. I've still got three prints of abandoned buildings I took on a gorgeous medium format film camera. I still have all of my negatives and a camera from that time but, the last time I developed film was then, and the last time I sat in a classroom thinking about writing was then.
I have often wondered if that college course (And retaking my English GCSE at the same time, ironic I know) was the spark that lit the fire as one might say.
I started listening to myself more and more.
I Got moved to a different department by people that didn't want me there, listened to myself, and moved to one I loved.
I started to go through a depressive episode, listened to myself, and went to the doctor.
I started to resent not being able to do anything physical at my job, I listened to myself and found another one.
I enjoyed that job but I wasn't allowed to prove myself and work on something a lot more demanding, I listened to myself and told my manager that I wanted to do it and that I would prove that I could.
News Flash! I did and I lifted a combined total of 2 tonnes in one day with breaks of course. Who said I couldn't.
But we all have slip-ups, don't we?
Crushing my hand under one of these 40kg kegs was not a fun thing, getting in the work accident book wasn't either.
I stopped listening to myself then.
I stopped listening to myself when I started getting really dark intrusive thoughts, I stopped listening to myself when those thoughts turned to suicidal ideation and I started spiraling into depression.
People began to notice.
And although I have never intentionally harmed myself, people do notice when you look defeated, when you look unhappy, and when you can no longer look someone in the eye.
I betrayed myself. I stopped listening to the right things and started listening to the bad things my mind would create.
Past me, you had those, didn't you? You never told anyone that you thought about hurting yourself or taking your own life.
That depression started taking over my life. I started missing days of work because I couldn't get out of bed. I started hiding my feelings from people, masking my problems because I thought no one actually cared and that no one would have missed me if I was gone.
Until I woke up one day, went into the bathroom, and sat on the floor for an hour. I thought everything was crashing down around me, a buzzing filling my head and just intrusive, suicidal thoughts constantly running around. I remember texting my dad and saying.
I need to phone the doctor.
I did.
I got put on medication for the third, maybe fourth time in my life. A minimal dose to keep me from tipping over the edge. I got on well with those until I started getting worse.
I won't lie and say I have felt worse.
No, not even Gastroenteritis made me feel the way I did then. It was paralysing, utterly paralysing. For the first time, my Dad had to stay at home with me to keep me safe. I could not do anything but I still kept myself just on the edge of staying here.
Maybe I'm a little proud as I'm writing this for still being here.
I thought about it, of course. I had things I could do it with but I never did.
I had my medication doubled to what it is now. I referred myself to a service called Healthy Minds and got assessed.
I scored 27 out of 30 on the depression score with 0-10 being minor, 10-15 being moderate, and 15-30 being severe.
Severe is a hard word. I can't think of anything good associated with severe.
It put it all into perspective when I was told they could not offer me the two usual things because I was too severe to do them. I had to go for the next step up, One-on-one phone CBT.
A few people might know what that means but for the few that don't, it's Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It is essentially trying to retrain our minds and change our thought patterns away from what they call 'unhelpful thoughts'. They give you tools to be able to do this.
Things such as:
Identifying vicious cycles and how to break them
Understanding what our unhelpful thoughts mean and how to counteract them by breaking them down and thinking of things that would make them untrue.
Setting goals for your week to start to regain a routine
Building on that routine by splitting into what is routine, necessary or pleasurable and doing them as such.
I am working on the latter now.
And I have gone from Severe to Moderate for the first time.
That means that while it doesn't entirely rule my life anymore, it is still there and still an issue.
An issue I am determined to overcome.
I will wear my resilience like a badge of honour in the future. I just have to get there first.
Things are changing in my life.
My brother, who I am close to, is moving from his home in Plymouth to Canada quite soon with his girlfriend. The distance of a few hours by car or coach will be paired with an ocean and a few time zones. One part of me is happy for them, and the other part is sad for me.
My parents are divorced now, this happened at some point during this long-winded story and it means I will be leaving the home I have always known soon. The house is essentially sold, and these four walls will soon no longer be my safe space. I will have to unpack that in another post soon.
You may have also noticed that I have only mentioned my mum once in this and that was in the part when I was small. She's alive but we don't have a great relationship. It's a difficult thing and something I will also later write about.
I have to start looking for a place to live. I won't be living alone, however, I don't think I can mentally or financially, I will be living with my Dad whom I have always been close to and will always be close to. He is my rock. I will become a co-homeowner at the age of 21. I know how fortunate I am to be in that position, something good can come from something bad like an ugly divorce.
At the end of it all, I want to be able to say I am happy.
I want to be able to shout it, scream it, write it, and cry while doing it.
To all those who have stayed until the very end of this.
Thank you, I really appreciate you having the patience to read what might as well be my life story judging by its sheer length.
To all of those going through what I am.
Keep fighting, and keep thinking of reasons to be here. You are so much stronger than you know and this storm in the middle of an ocean is just a hurdle, just another thing on your journey. I am so proud of you for being here still.
It is now 25 minutes to 5 am. I started this at nearly 3am.
No, I cannot sleep but I'm trying.
Toodles,
Scarlett
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Eagerly awaiting Spare 2: The Chamber Pot of Secrets
Now that the media furore has died down a bit and we've all had time to think, what can we say about the Spare?
Well, first of all, I'd say Harry has been set up.
Again.
And he's too dim to see it, because he's being told (by someone in particular and probably a few other hangers-on as well) that "his truth" is important. And he believes it. Harry's "truth" has been filtered by money-grubbing bottom-feeders, and now H prefers to believe that "their truth" is "his truth"; that they love him more than anyone else; and they know what's best for him.
So:
(1) Harry can't distinguish his truth from reality. We've known this for a while, but so many new *facts* coming out... it's really taking the pee-pee. "Harry's Truth" isn't the same as facts. A fact is a piece of information that can be proven to be true; it stands up to rigorous scrutiny, especially by rigorous professional fact-checkers, who quickly noted that bit about the XBox, of which I freely admit I know nothing, but even I managed to check it out on the internet in about ten seconds. Did nobody fact-check Spare? Oooh, apparently not. Why not? And King Henry VI... And the Queen Mum's death... and the rest of it. Which leads us on to:
(2) Harry took (and is possibly still taking) Class A drugs and assorted forms of happy-juice, even to the point of stoking himself up on the wife's gas as she prepared for labour, which is despicable. He's such a feminist he took her meds for her!!! A**hole. I gave birth three times (homebirths, without meds; Princess Madafu wasn't around at the time so I did the painful "manly" work of squeezing babies out of my bum all by myself...) and I just want to deck Harold for interfering with his wife's meds. But drug use messes up your brain, Harry. So do grubby compliant therapists, by the way, who are rubbing their hands in glee at all the $$$ you hand over - they're on to a good deal and it's not in their financial interests to sort you out by Month 6 of Therapy when they can trick you into Year 6 of Therapy... or Year 16... or Year 26...
(3) He's envious of William and Catherine. This shines through. His older brother married the love of his life, a woman who has devoted herself to her man and the RF and between them they've produced three gorgeous well-grounded little ones and a firm base on which to take the RF forward. The Prince and Princess of Wales have learned from the mistakes of the unfortunate previous generation of royals, whereas Harry is now an "Oh dear" in the footnotes of the monarchy. And this leads us on to:
(4) Harry has no respect for Charles and Camilla. The Queen Consort is and always has been Charles's lighthouse and security from the storms of public life. Charles should never have been pushed into marrying the naive teenager Diana, but that's how it was back then - that's how history works! Charles was expected to marry a blushing virgin bride he hardly knew. Harry, aren't you glad you were allowed to marry a several-times-up-the-maypole divorcee? You learn from history, right, so that you don't repeat the same mistakes. Of course that involves being aware of history, which Harold isn't; he's only aware of how time healed his frostbitten todger and saved it for someone who could use it to her advantage. Over-sharing, Harry! Please shut up! Nobody wants to know! And then there's:
(5) Harry has no respect for the British Public. Or the Commonwealth. Or the army. Even enemy soldiers have families; mothers, fathers, wives, children - they are not chess pieces to be removed. Personal remembrance: my Gt-grandma's brother was KIA in 1916; my Gt-grandad served in the same war but never spoke about it; my Grandad served in WW2, never spoke about it - he showed me his medals, once. Once. Once only. The only things I remember him saying about the war were the "safe" bits - that he spent some of it in Canada training Canadian troops and got to see Niagara Falls, and mailed all his chocolate rations back to his wife and infant son. My late brother in law served in the Coldstream Guards, never spoke a word about how many men he'd had to shoot; he took all that to his early and leg-amputated death. What happens in the army stays in the army, Harold; it's not for personal validation.
(6) He hates the British Media. Supposedly because his mother was killed by paps (in France; not British paps) when the world knows she died because she wasn't wearing a seat-belt in a car that crashed at speed driven by a DUI driver. Oh and he also hates the British Media because Meghan is Diana.2 and... wait, what? No she isn't. She wants him to believe she's Diana.2. If it's not drugs doing his head in it's Megadiana. How many paps have tried to run Catherine off the road in a tunnel in Paris? How many paps have tried to take topless pictures of her - ooh, there was one, but it wasn't in Britain, I'm pretty sure it was in France and the magazine was sued for it, so not in Britain then. Not British Media. Not British paps. And let's not forget that Diana was more than capable of manipulating the pap shoots she wanted... remind you of anybody?
(7) He still has mummy issues, decades later. This is just not normal for a grown man. I'm sure Harry loathes being compared to his brother but what the heck, I'm going for it! Two young boys, both suffering from the untimely loss of their mother. Yet William doesn't have mummy issues, or at least if he does he doesn't hang them out to dry for a voracious public airing. It's no good saying that Harry is more sensitive, he's not - he just hasn't grown up, and those around him are keeping him trapped in the net of mummy issues instead of allowing him to mature into the adult he should be; he's not the man he thinks he has become. And I still keep coming back to why, so let's move on to:
(8) His therapy isn't working and he needs a proper psych evaluation. The people he thinks are helping him just aren't. They are milking him for the cash cow that he has become. The RF and whatever PR they use appear to have done everything to protect Young Harry from this, right down to convincing us that he was a high-spirited Jack-the-Lad, fond of a little tipple but devoted to his country and the army veterans he served alongside. Take away the RF and the carefully scrutinising PR machine, and he is ripe for the plucking. And boy, is he being plucked. Every last feather.
Now this next one is a bother:
(9) He can't see his own hypocrisy, has zero empathy for anyone, and cannot see how "his truth" - his own words - can damage others. Others including his own mother, his father and step-mother, his wider family, his army colleagues, the wider British public who are all a bunch of racists, apparently. Harry has a lot of short-comings. No doubt there'll be "Spare 2: The Chamber of Secrets" and he'll blame his short-comings on his frozen todger, but the lack of self-awareness is pathetic. He cannot see his own failings, refuses to take responsibility for his own actions, and blames everyone else. So what can we say? Is he really so stupid? Or is he in some sort of "Cult-Of-Himself" delusion, promulgated by his Feather Pluckers?
(10) The awful wife wears Harry's man-bits and is conspicuous by her absence, as she journals and squirrels away evidence for her divorce lawyers. Yep, I think we're all agreed on that one!
My personal opinions only, as they say in reputable circles.
Love and peace.
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BEHIND THE BAR
RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, lots of cursing, heavy banter)
WORD COUNT: 17.3k (she long and you may need to read on desktop)
CATEGORIES: bartender!y/n, fratboy!harry
MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | Y/NâS LINGERIE | TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE BITS OF BANTER | BLURB MASTERLIST | DRABBLE TAG
a/n: the long awaited bartender!y/n fic has ARRIVED! thank you to my fabulous anons who dreamt up bartender!y/n and made me fall so in love with her and fratboy!harryâs dynamic that i had to write her. she is tattooed, sassy, and full of spunk and i ADORE her. if you need more of her and harry, check out the inspo tag which has all the discourse. concepts for these two are ALWAYS open. s/o to @harrystylescherry, @stellarboystyles, @harrysclementinesâ, @havethetimeofyourstylesâ for beta reading and @bfharryâ for providing harryâs dad joke đ
âCheers, Birthday Princess,â you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.
Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. âHow about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?â
âIn your dreams,â you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.
Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. âWeâve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know youâre already in them, so no need to beg for it.â
or
Y/N is a bartender and Harryâs obsessed with her
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In hindsight, perhaps taking a job as a bartender at the campus bar as a freshman wasnât your smartest idea. You had to spend most of your weekend nights behind the bar trying to hear orders from slurring frat boys ordering the cheapest beer on tap and got shit tips because apparently your classmates didnât care about tipping their bartenders. But at the same time, it was a great way to always drink for free and make friends, both with the other bartenders and with students who frequented the bar, as well as the neighborhood regulars earlier in the evening.
The thing you loved most about it, though, was the power you held behind the bar. It was your space, space where you made the rules and could throw out any person who messed with you. Which, as a stunningly gorgeous 21-year-old girl serving alcohol at a popular bar, happened plenty. You and Mike, the bouncer who usually shared shifts with you, had a hand signal that you could give him whenever someone was causing problems, and he would happily come to the bar and throw out whatever obnoxious man was giving you trouble. You frequently considered that Mike actually enjoyed throwing people out of the bar.
It was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week and nearing one AM. The bar was packed, bodies pushing past one another to get to the bar, girls drumming their fingers on the fake wood counter. Tendrils of your long black hair stuck to the back of your neck, the result of constantly being on the move from the moment the rush hit until the bar closed. A cropped black tank top stuck to your skin, the sliver of skin between the hem of the shirt and the top of your black skinny jeans not enough to keep your body cool. Your ponytail swung back and forth as you moved, winding around Matt, the other bartender tonight, with ease. The two of you usually shared shifts, both being students and having the same availability. Generally, he was a good guy, taking the drunk guys so you didnât have to deal with them and always making sure people didnât give you trouble. The one downside to Matt, though, was his frat brothers. They appeared every shift without fail, bringing with them chaos and an inordinate amount of drink orders. They loved to annoy you, asking you the contents of every fancy drink they could think of and asking about your love life.
Tonight, it seemed, was no different.
You noticed the minute they entered the bar, a collection of t-shirts, a couple of jerseys you despised, and a button down shirt or two, all of them talking and yelling at each other. âMatt, your fan club is here!â You called down the bar, and Matt laughed as he grabbed the vodka off the wall to make a drink for two girls that were staring at him with wide eyes.
You grabbed two shot glasses and the handle of tequila from where youâd left it below the bar. âSalt and limes?â You asked the girls who had ordered the shots. They were most definitely not twenty-one, but then again, serving underage college students was how the bar made any business. The girls nodded, and so after you had poured the shots, you grabbed the salt shaker and two cut limes, pressing the limes into the rim of the glasses and pushing all the items across the bar. One of the girls handed you her card and you heard the words âKeep it open!â over Taste by Tyga and Offset that was blaring in the bar. It was your playlist, one that youâd perfectly curated for the bar with input from the other bartenders, and you were pretty proud of it.
After swiping the girlâs card and adding it to the stack of open tabs, you whirled back around to take the next customer. The sight of his brown curly mop and gleaming green eyes made you sighâit was Harry. He, frankly, was a bit obsessed with you, but he was Mattâs little so you let it slide. Also, Harryâs attention didnât make your skin crawl, instead it made your belly clench and witty comebacks fall easily from your mouth. The two of you had settled into a consistently flirtatious banter and you didnât mind it, frankly. Sometimes, it was the highlight of your night.
The first time you ever met Harry, you noticed him long before he finally spoke to you. He was sitting at a booth not too long after your shift started, so it wasnât super busy yet. He had caught your eye because he wouldnât stop staring at you and he had a weird bandana wrapped up in his hair. (Or was it even a bandana? Maybe a scarf? You couldnât be sure.) It wasnât the creepy kind of stare that made you call the bouncer over, but the kind that made you blush against your every attempt not to. When Matt came in, a bit late as usual, Harry beelined to the bar, sitting down in front of him.
âY/N, this is Harry,â Matt had said, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the wall and pouring some in a glass, then adding Coke to it before pushing the glass towards Harry. âHeâs my little.â
You leaned onto the bar, the surface still dry since it wasnât packed yet. âI was waiting for you to say hi. Saw you staring for the past fifteen minutes.â
The blush that rose to Harryâs cheeks made you smile at him, and Matt chuckled. âStaring isnât nice, H.â
âWasnât staring,â Harry mumbled. âJust watching you make drinks.â
Your eyebrows lifted. âHave you never seen a bartender before?â
âNo, fuck,â he said to himself and you internally grinned at making him a bit embarrassed. He was easy to mess with, especially now that you had confirmed that he had, in fact, been watching you. âYouâre just good at it.â
You looked to Matt. âHe thinks I make good drinks,â you informed your co-worker. âWhat do you think, Harry? Am I better than your big?â
Harry could tell he had dug himself into a hole, his eyes sweeping between you and Matt. âIâI donât knowâmaybe?â Mattâs eyes widened and Harry stumbled over his words, trying to correct course. âNo, no, Mattâs better. Matt is definitely better.â
You leaned forward a bit more, inching closer to Harry. âThought you said I was good at it?â
You could feel his eyes drift to where your cleavage was exposed from the deep-v of your black t-shirt. âYou are.â
âSo which one of us is better?â
âYou.â
Matt groaned and you moved away, a triumphant grin on your face. âNot fair,â Matt said. âHarryâs got a crush on you, of course heâd say youâre better!â
Harry choked on his drink and you raised your eyebrows at him. âA crush, huh?â
âShit,â Matt said. âI wasnât supposed to say that.â
You bumped your hip against his. âItâs ok, Matty boy. I figured that out when he wouldnât stop staring at me.â
Harry blushed and you moved away, tending to the other customers at the bar.
That night had begun the back-and-forth between you and Harry, a playful dynamic of flirtation and jokes that usually left you triumphant and Harry blushing at the bar. He kept showing up early and Matt would tell you things like âOh, heâs just coming by to drop off my chargerâ or âHe just wants to chat.â All of them were excuses for Harry to be in the bar with just you, Matt, and a couple of customers, him having your relatively undivided attention. Heâd tell you terrible jokes and ask you questions about your classes or family, most of which you ignored. You never asked him questions back, just let him talk and you listened, although you pretended like you didnât, because you didnât want to encourage him.
The truth was, though, you didnât mind him. You kind of looked forward to those conversations. When he got really drunk he was a bit more annoying, repeating your name until you finally paid attention to him, only for him to say nothing except âYouâre cuteâ or something along those lines. He entertained you, at least, and that was more than could be said for most of the patrons.
Tonight, it seemed, was no different than usual. âY/N!â He said, shoving himself between two people who had managed to snag one of the green vinyl covered bar stools. His hair was messy, perhaps a bit sweaty, and he was swearing a black t-shirt, a silver chain tucked under his shirt. You could immediately tell he was decently drunk already, based on the glassy expression in his eyes and the grin on his face. âWant to hear a joke?â
You wiped off the bar with the towel over your shoulder before answering him. âSure.â
âWhat did the therapist say when a naked man wrapped in cling film went into their office?â
âI donât know,â you answered, resting your hands on the bar and looking at him dead on. âWhat did they say?â
Harry was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. âClearly I can see your nuts.â
You groaned and Harry just guffawed. âHarry, that was horrible.â
âYou just have no sense of humor.â
âSays the guy making jokes like that,â you shot back. âNow, what do you want?â
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. âFive fireball shots.â
You had to take a second before replying because the thought of a fireball shot makes you want to vomit. The combination of the cinnamon flavor and the burn it sent down your throat was one you hated, but it seemed Harry enjoyed it. âReally, Harry? Fireball?â
âWhat? Itâs good!â
You shook your head, but grabbed shot glasses, laying them out in a line on the bar. âYouâre insane.â You turned, grabbed the bottle of Fireball, and then returned to him.
âMake it six,â he said, slashing you a smirk.
âIf itâs for me I am not drinking it.â
âYouâre no fun.â
âIâm plenty of fun,â you told him, cocking your hip. âAnd I have good taste in alcohol.â
âY/N, please,â he begged, pouting slightly for you.
Sometimes he was such a child, you thought as you gave in, grabbing another shot glass. âFine,â you told him. âBut this is the only time.â He grinned at you, and you just poured the shots, drawing a line down the glasses with the alcohol.
He snagged one of the shot glasses and you took one at the end. âCheers,â he said, lifting his shot, and you did the same, knocking the glasses together enough for a clink to ring out.
You tipped the shot back, letting the burn of the cinnamon whiskey fall down your throat. You swallowed, dropped the shot glass to the counter, and looked to Harry. He was grinning, his empty shot glass on the bar. âSatisfied?â
âVery.â Then he picked up the shots, holding them together in his two massive hands, his rings clinking against the glass. You watched him walk away, his shirt disappearing into the throng of people, and then your attention was caught by another patron, asking you for a Long Island iced tea that made you laugh once you had turned away from them.
The night passed with many empty bottles of vodka and gin, the drinks of choice for all the girls who came up to the bar, and you nearly ran out of Budweiser, since it was on tap and the cheapest beer. You were bopping your head along with your playlist, Piece Of Your Heart by MEDUZA ringing through the speakers. The electronic music was supposed to help keep your energy up, but it was three AM and you were beginning to tire, the whiskey and coke you made yourself doing little to keep you going.
People were starting to filter out of the bar, groups heading to get a late night snack or head home. You were thankful for itâif you could start cleaning before official close you would be happy, perhaps being able to get home sooner.
âCan I get another whiskey coke?â You turned and Harry was sitting in a barstool at the bar, right in front of you.
You nodded, grabbing a glass and the handle of whiskey. âWhereâd all your friends go?â
âThey left.â He drummed his fingers against the wood, the light of the bar catching on the silver of his rings. You were a bit fascinated by them, if you were being honest. Why he wore them, where they came from, what they meant. The same questions rang in your head in reference to the tattoos that littered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt.
âYou didnât go with?â You pushed his drink towards him and returned the jack to its spot on the wall.
He shook his head, taking a sip of the drink you made him. âI was going to wait for Matt.â
You raised your eyebrows and then nodded towards where Matt was leaning over the bar, talking to some girl whose drink had long since been emptied. âI think heâs already got someone waiting for him.â
Harry looked to where Matt was and then shrugged, before turning his gaze back to you. âGuess Iâll just hang out with you, then.â
âOh really?â You took some empty glasses off the bar where people had left them and dropped them into the bucket under the bar to be taken back to get cleaned.
âYouâre more interesting than him anyway.â
You laughed, grabbing an empty shot glass and putting it in the bucket. âAnd why is that?â
âYouâre hot.â He didnât even pause before he replied.
He licked across his bottom lip after he said it and you couldnât help but watch the action. It wasnât like you didnât know Harry thought you were attractiveâyou did. It was just that he had never outright told you, or been quite this forward. Usually he was skating around the topic and now that he wasnât you didnât quite know what to say. So you said the first thing that popped into your head. âHave you been behind a bar?â
âOnly at the house.â
âYour frat house does not count as a bar.â
âI donât know about that.â
âIt is not a bar, Harry.â
âFine. Then no, I havenât.â
You took a step away from him and waved your hand at the space. âWould you like to?â
This time, it was him raising his eyebrows at you. âWhat am I going to be doing?â
âIâll teach you to make drinks.â
âI know how to make drinks,â he scoffed.
âJungle juice doesnât count.â
He huffed and then pushed away from the bar, standing to his full height. âYouâre being mean,â he stated, but walked to the end of the bar and came around the side anyways. âIt feels so different from back here.â
You turned, one hand on the bar and the other on your hip. âWhat do you mean?â
âDunno. FeelâŠpowerful, I guess.â
You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. âSo, Mr. Bartender, what do you want to make first?â
Harry considered his options, looking around the bar and taking in the options in front of him. He looked a bit overwhelmed, if you were honest. You glanced around, checking on how busy it was, and you were thankful that it was pretty much empty, so no one would probably be bothering you and Harry. âIâve always wanted to make an Old Fashioned.â
âCan do,â you answered, grabbing the proper glass from the shelf, and a bottle of your favorite bourbon, setting both on the counter in front of you. âDo you know whatâs in one?â He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks, and you smiled to yourself. He could be so goddamned cute sometimes. âItâs whiskey, bitters, and a bit of sugar. Do you know how to muddle?â He shook his head again, and you nodded, grabbing the rest of the supplies you would need.
You spread it out in front of you, popping a sugar cube in the old fashioned glass. âSo this is the bitters weâre going to use,â you informed him, passing him the bottle of Angostura bitters. âPut two dashes of that in the glass over the sugar.â
âWhat the fuck is a âdashâ?â
âA bit,â you told him. âJust do it.â
He did as you asked, tapping bitters into the glass. âIs that enough?â
You nodded, and then grabbed the soda gun and pressed the button for water, adding a bit to the glass. Then, you passed him the muddler, which got very little use at this bar. In fact, you hadnât made an Old Fashioned in agesâit wasnât exactly the drink of choice for most college-aged people. âNow, youâre going to muddle thisâlike mix them together, crushing the sugar.â
âWhy does mixology have the weirdest terms?â He said under his breath and you snorted. He did as you said, listening to your instructions, crushing the sugar and mixing it with the bitters in the glass, the sugar dissolving in the glass.
âGood. Now you add the ice.â
You pulled back the top of the cooler that held the ice, and Harry grinned as he picked up some with the scooper and filled the glass with it. âAlways wanted to do that.â
âAnd now you have.â You shut the top of the cooler and passed him the bourbon and a jigger. âAn ounce and a half of bourbon,â you informed him.
He reached over and took the bottle and jigger, and his close proximity made you inhale. You could smell cologne, a bit of sweat from the party he was at earlier, and a trace of smoke as he moved. The scent had your spine straightening, your mind just as muddled as the contents of the glass. How did he smell so good? He was a college boy. Who gave him the right to be so goddamned attractive and smell this delicious? His long hair, the length not quite reaching his shoulders but close, swung slightly in your face as he pulled away, the tips of his curls brushing against your cheek. He was so close that if he turned his head, your lips would meet.
You tried not to think about that.
But he lingered close to you as he poured the bourbon in the jigger, your sides nearly touching, just half a step away from one another. If the music hadnât been playing, you probably wouldâve been able to hear him breathe and he couldâve heard your breath hitch when his bicep flexed as he held the bourbon. Your eyes trailed over the tattoos on his arms, dancing over the ship and the rose at his elbow, all the way down to the anchor at his wrist.
âNow youâre the one watching me.â
Your eyes snapped up to his, where he was looking at you, smirking. âPour the shot in, Harry.â
He looked back to the jigger he was holding, and tipped it into the glass, the amber liquid dropping through the glass. You handed him the stirrer and he twirled it in the glass, before setting it back down on the bar. The sound of his rings hitting the glass sounded in your ears as he grasped the drink, bringing it to his lips.
His eyes were on yours as he tipped it back slightly, letting the alcohol pass between his lips. You tried not to focus on his Adamâs apple bobbing as he sipped. When he lowered the glass, his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and it made you tug your own into your mouth softly. Then you asked, âHow is it?â
With his gaze trained on your mouth, he answered, âDelicious.â
âY/N!â Your head bounced up to see Mike darting his head inside. âTime for close.â
You looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he was rightâmore time had passed than you realized. âShitâyeah, sorry Mike. Matt,â you called down the bar to your co-worker who was very caught up in his flirtation. âWill you kick all of these people out for me?â
âEven me?â Harry asked and you roll your eyes at him.
âYou can stay,â you told him and he gave you a smile, taking another sip of his drink. âAs long as you help me clean up.â
While Matt kicked the remaining stragglers out, making sure the ones that are too drunk get in an Uber, you and Harry cleaned up. He helped you flip chairs on top of tables and pick up the glasses littered across surfaces, even in the bathroom. You filled the bin with the glasses and took them into the kitchen, filling the industrial dishwasher to the brim. He even took a rag and wiped down the tables, singing along to the Tame Impala youâd turned on and finishing off his Old Fashioned. You put the bitters away and the remnants of the drink he had made, and toss some lime rinds into the trash, wiping off the last bit of the bar.
âIâm going to head out,â Matt called to you from the door. Heâs got his arm wrapped around the girlâs shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces. âYou good, H?â
Harry nodded. âYeah, Iâm going to walk Y/N home.â
This was news to you. âI drove,â you replied.
âThen can I snag a ride?â He asked, and you shrugged. It wouldnât be the worst thing in the world. Also, the idea of making him walk didnât sound like a good idea, even though the frat house wasnât too far from the bar.
âSure.â You grabbed your purse and leather jacket from where youâd stashed them under the bar, and pulled them on. âCâmon, letâs go.â
You waved goodbye to Mike, who was left to lock up, and walked around back to where your car was parked. It was a must have for you, not wanting to walk home at four in the morning after a long night of working. Plus, you never drank much while you workedâall you had had was that disgusting Fireball shot earlier in the night and a whiskey coke throughout the evening. Harry followed behind you, his hands in his pockets as he walked, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.
âItâs dark,â he said when you turned into the lot.
You unlocked your car and turned to look at him. âItâs four AM. Of course itâs dark.â
He moved towards the car, pulling open the passenger side door. âNo, I just mean that itâs dark for you to be walking to your car alone.â
âOh.â You tossed your purse into the backseat and slid into the driverâs side, flipping on the ignition. âMatt or Mike walk me to my car most nights.â
His long legs ended up a bit cramped in the passenger seat of your car and it made the corner of your mouth turn up. âGood,â is all he said before pulling on the seatbelt and clicking it. You reversed out of the spot, your phone automatically connecting to the Bluetooth as you flipped on your turn signal. âThatâs the wrong way.â
You turned and looked at him. âDonât you live at the house?â
He shook his head though. âNo, Iâve got an apartment with some brothers on the West side of campus. Take a left here.â
You absorb this information and switch the turn signal. âWhy donât you live there? I thought most people did.â
âI like the privacy, I guess. When you live with all your brothers, they tend to know every bit of your business.â He was looking out the front windshield and you did the same, eyes on the dark streets in front of you. Being this close to him in the car had your body temperature spiking a bit, although you wouldnât have admitted that to anyone. Harry was just the boy who flirted with you every chance he got and was Mattâs little. He was just someone to entertain you on slow nights or when you were stressed. Right?
âTake a left at the light,â he said, breaking you out of your trance. You flicked on your turn signal and eased into the turn lane, swinging your car onto a side street. âIâm having a birthday party next weekend at the house if you want to come,â he suddenly said.
Your eyes bounced to Harry, who wasnât looking at you, his palms resting on his knees. You could sense the tension in his bodyâwas he nervous? Did you make him nervous? âIs it your 21st?â
He quirked a smile at that. âHowâd you know?â
âWell, youâre a junior. I just assumed.â Matt also mightâve mentioned it once or twice, but you didnât tell Harry that.
A blush crept across his cheeks. âIâuhâitâs on Saturday at nine. Weâre hitting the bars after, but the thing at the house is just going to be brothers and drinks and some music. Pretty low-key, I think.â
âIâve got work,â you told him. âBut Iâll try and stop by before my shift. Iâm not supposed to be there until ten.â
He nodded quickly and you tried not to think about the fact that Matt was never going to let you live this down. What were you even doing, saying yes to Harry? You werenât even interested in him. He was just a boy to flirt with, someone who told you bad jokes and ordered Fireball shots. âItâs right up here,â he said, pointing to a house off to the right.
You slowed the car in front of a one-story bungalow, a couple of cars in the driveway and lawn chairs on the front lawn. âYou live in a house?â
âSomehow it was actually cheaper,â he explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. âPlus, kind of nice not having people complaining about the noise.â
The area was definitely still on campus, but you didnât know anyone who lived over here. âAre your neighbors all students too?â
He nodded. âSome other brothers have a place a couple houses down, thereâs a house of Pi Phis over there. But yeah, itâs all students. On game days itâs a fucking mess.â
You put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. âI can imagine.â Harry didnât make any moves to get out of the car, just sitting there staring at the dashboard of your old Toyota, his hands fidgeting on his thighs. âHarry?â
âFuck,â he exhaled, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. âI...â Then he glanced over at you, and under the dim streetlamp you could see the expression in his eyes. Itâs one you knew well. Itâs the look he gave you when you wore your favorite lace bodysuit that was conservative enough to wear out, or when you gave him just as flirtatious of a comeback as the one he served you.
Then, all of a sudden he was moving towards you, his hand curving around the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. It was awkward, the seatbelt holding back your shoulder, but it didnât stop you from leaning towards him, meeting him halfway. His lips tasted like bourbon and bitters, a trace of Fireball when you nibbled on his bottom lip that was just tucked between his teeth. He was sweet with an edge of fire, and when he tilted his chin slightly to change the angle, rotating his head just enough to kiss you deeper, you knew you were fucked.
For so long, you had been trying to keep him at a distance. Just let him exist as a flirtation, nothing more than that. Youâd ignored the thoughts that blazed through your mind when you were drunk with your friends and saw him at a party, his lips on some girl, and you wondered what they would taste like on yours. Now that he was kissing you and you knew what they tasted like, there was no way you would be able to forget.
Especially the way his fingers threaded through your hair, his rings cool against your warm scalp. How he tugged on your lip with his teeth and you let out a soft whine, pulling him closer by the neck of his shirt. The fact that it was nearing four thirty in the morning and you were in your car making out, your seatbelt still on, didnât seem to matter. The exhaustion that had been all-consuming earlier was gone, your body rushing with adrenaline from the feeling of his mouth tucked against yours, his hands on your skin and the way his lips searched for yours when you pulled away for air.
âI should go home,â you said, breathing heavily as you moved back into your seat.
Harry was looking at you intensely, his lips slick from your saliva, his cheeks flushed from kissing you. His hands still lingered on your neck and hip, and you werenât ready for him to let go. However, you needed sleep, otherwise the rest of the day was not going to be pretty. You had a paper due on Tuesday you had to write and if that didnât happen this afternoon after you slept you were fucked. âYeah,â he finally answered, pulling away. âItâs late.â He shuffled in the seat, turning to push open the door. âGet home safe, okay?â
You nodded, and with one lingering look at you, Harry slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. Under the dim lights you watched him walk to his front door, pulling open the screen door and unlocking it. Once he was inside, you finally turned back on your car and put it in drive, peeling away from the curb without a glance back.
On Tuesday, you were knee-deep in edits for your paper when your phone screen lit up with a text. Despite the fact that you told yourself you would be ignoring any notifications that flashed across your screen, you were intrigued by this message because it was from a number you didnât recognize. So you leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair you were sitting in (chosen to make sure you stayed awake) and grabbed your phone.
The sight of the message made you choke on air.
Hey, Y/N, this is Harry. Matt gave me your number, I hope thatâs ok?
That was it. The whole message. What the fuck were you supposed to do with that? âFuck,â you muttered to yourself, because now you couldnât ignore it. You had your read receipts on, something you turned on one time when you were breaking up with an ex and wanted him to know that you were ignoring his messages on purpose, and never turned off. So now Harry knew you had read his message.
So you typed back, hey! whatâs up?
The typing dots appeared and you had the sudden urge to throw your phone halfway across the room as you waited for his reply. But you didnât, because Harryâs text popped through before you could take any actions to make it seem as though you werenât staring at your phone waiting for his text.
Just wanted to say thanks for the ride home on Saturday. Then, in a separate message, Also, the invite for my birthday party still stands, but no pressure.
You nibbled on the edge of your thumb nail, your other thumb poised over the screen as you considered what to reply. You decided on coy. i'll see how it goes :) you wrote out, and then thumbs up reacted to his thank you text.
Looking forward to it is what he replied with, and that felt like the end of the conversation, so you locked your phone, turned it on Do Not Disturb, and tried to re-focus on the paper open on your computer screen.
It took everything in your body not to check your phone a couple more times, just to see if heâd kept the conversation going. You had no idea what to say to himâhe was the one who texted you in the first place. It seemed like his job to keep the conversation going, not yours. So you let the conversation linger, not even saving his number in your phone.
When Saturday rolled around, you considered for a long time whether or not you were going to go to Harryâs birthday party. Matt had texted you too, combining the text with a notice that he wasnât working that night and Lucy was covering his shift, which meant you were going to be doing all the heavy lifting. Lucy was a freshman, new to bartending, and most definitely was hired so she would be ready to replace you when you graduated next year. The fact that Matt texted you told you that Harry must really want you to come, even if it was just for a bit.
So you turned on your getting ready playlist and grabbed your favorite bodysuitâit was long sleeved and high necked with a mesh leopard print, meaning that when you wore your black bralette underneath it, it would show through. It was enough to get eyes on you (you could neither confirm nor deny if you specifically meant Harryâs eyes), but not too much that you felt completely exposed, thanks to the long sleeves. You grabbed your black jeans, even though in an ideal world you wouldâve chosen your leather skirt instead, but the last thing you wanted was alcohol stuck to your legs all night or some asshole seeing up your skirt when you bent over for ice.
You kept your makeup simple, but in line with the outfitâa light smokey eye, eyeliner, and a tinge of a deep red to your lips. Rhea, your roommate, let you use her dry shampoo, so you sprayed it at your roots, giving your day-old hair some revival. With a pair of gold hoops and a pep talk, you were ready, your phone and wallet slipped into the pocket of your trusty leather jacket.
You had never been to a frat house when you couldnât hear the music pounding from outside. But as you walked up the grassy front lawn to the KDR house, it seemed quietâall the lights on, even. You rapped on the door twice, running your hand through your hair as you waited for the door to open. When it did, a guy was standing there who you were pretty sure you recognized from the barâhe was close with Matt and Harry, you thought.
âYouâre the bartender, Y/N!â He said, pointing at you with his index finger, lifting it from the red solo cup he held in his hand.
âI am,â you replied. âHarry and Matt invited me.â
âYeah, I know,â he said, and you tried not to read into that too much. âCome on in, Iâm Caleb, Harryâs little.â And that, you realized, was why he was always hanging out with Harry and Matt. You followed Caleb down the hall, which had composite photos on the wall going back to the 70s and 80s. It was weird being inside the house with all the lights on, because you could actually see everything for the first time. You saw what was usually a coat room and discovered it was actually a study of sorts, bookshelves with textbooks and random course books lining the shelves and a couple of old leather chairs in the corner that you usually stashed your jacket on.
He turned into the long living room and kitchen, which was where most of the parties happened in their house, and you were met by a pong table and a collection of boys, many of whom you recognized from the bar. Your eyes scanned over the group, and you found that you were, unsurprisingly, one of four girls in attendance. The others were next to brothers, an arm slung around their shoulders. You found Matt and Harry easily in the crowd, Matt saying something to Harry with his palm pressed to Harryâs chest, his other hand gripping a can of Natty Light. How he could drink such watered down piss while being a bartender you didnât know and you quickly decided you would be ragging on him for it the next time you worked together.
âBartender girl!â One of the guys called out, and that made Harry and Mattâs heads immediately swivel towards where you were standing. The discomfort that had been lingering was suddenly there in full force. You hated being the center of attention, something most people never expected since you thrived at the bar. The key part of being a bartender, though, was you had the bar between you and the patrons. It was a safety net, something that gave you power and confidence. Without it, though, you felt naked in a situation like this.
The sight of a tiara on Harryâs head, though, immediately made you feel more at ease. The words Birthday Princess were printed on the tiara in bright pink writing, and the sight of it resting in Harryâs hair brought a smile to your face.
Matt immediately broke into a grin and widened his arms, which you rolled your eyes at. âY/N! You made it!â
You walked over to him, having nothing else to do, but didnât give him a hug. âBarely. I canât stay longâIâm supposed to be there at 10 so Lucy doesnât kill someone with her heavy handed pouring.â
He chuckled, and then gave Harry a clap on the back. âIâm going to go check on the beer. Have fun, H.â
It left you and Harry aloneâor as alone as you could be in a crowded room. Your eyes roamed his body, the black silky shirt drawing in your eyes, white stitching that spelled out his last name on the chest, the way it was unbuttoned low. It was the first time youâd been able to see his tattoosâthe edges of what seemed to be wings on his collarbones that you wanted to see the rest of, and a silver chain with a cross hanging on it lying on his chest. You could feel his eyes on you too, and steeled yourself under his gaze, trying to remain confident as you stood in front of him.
âNice tiara,â you said, breaking the silence.
He blushed, reflexively reaching up to touch it. âI was hoping you didnât notice.â
âItâs literally a bright pink tiara on your head, Harry, how could I not notice?â
âMatt and Caleb made me wear it. My other little, Tyler, bought it and insisted.â
âCanât let the family down?â You said, the corners of his lips lifting.
âGuess not.â A silence fell between you again and you busied yourself by investigating the space you were in. The worn couches on the wall, a massive dining table with alcohol covering it, dishes in the sink and a stack of red solo cups on the counter. It seemed like exactly what you would expect from a fraternity house, even if there wasnât a party going on. Finally, he cleared his throat and thickly asked you, âWant to play pong?â
You blinked, not expecting the question, but shrugged. âSure.â
âIâll drink any you donât want to,â he said.
âWhy? Think Iâm not any good?â
âNoâI justâyou drove, right?â He was stumbling over his words and it made you give him a small smile. You decided to be a bit of a tease, and brushed your fingers over the stitches on his shirt, just to mess with his brain a bit.
âI did,â you answered. âBut I donât think Iâll be drinking too much.â
His eyes widened a tad and you watched as he swallowed, Adamâs apple bobbing. âLetâs see your skills, then,â he finally said and you followed him over the table, where they were setting up for another round. He set down his cup on the side of the table and you fiddled with the cups, making the lines straighter. âReady?â He asked you, his body shifting closer to yours. There was just a hair of space between your hips and you sucked in a breath before nodding.
You hadnât thought this through, you quickly realized, because pong meant that there was barely any space between the two of you, and he kept brushing against your back and arm as he moved around. When he passed you the ball his fingers touched yours and your eyes would flit to his, only to find his green irises looking right back. The scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath wrapped around you when he laughed close to your ear, the contact of his skin on yours when he gave you a high five and lightly gripped your hand for just a beat too long sent shivers down your spine. When he picked up a cup to drink from it, you watched as his lipsâthe ones you had kissed exactly a week agoâwrapped around the rim and the beer slid down his throat. You were actively trying not to think about kissing down the column of his neck as you looked back to your cups on the other side of the table.
âCan I get gentlemenâs?â You asked and next to you, Harry nodded, agreeing with your decision to re-rack. The guys playing you quickly reshuffled your cups and you dropped the beer-covered ball into a cup of water to your right. When you picked up the ball and rolled it between your fingers, you decided to tease Harry a bit more, because it was your favorite pastime. You offered the ball to him, clasped between your thumb and forefinger, and looked him dead in the eyes. âBlow on it for good luck?â
His eyes widened, but then a cocky grin drifted across his cheeks. He leaned in and blew softly on the white pong ball, his pupils dark and focused on yours. Then, at a volume only you could hear, he whispered, âSure you donât want me to blow something else?â
Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had your pulse stuttering, you licked your lips and replied with, âLetâs see if youâre so cocky when Iâm on my knees.â You turned back to the cups and with ease, you threw the ball as it sank into a cup. You peeked a glance up at Harry, only to find him already staring at you, blinking in rapid succession. âYour turn, Styles.â You grabbed the other ball and pressed it to the stitching on his chest and his lips quirked up, snatching the ball from your grasp.
âKiss for good luck?â Your eyebrows lifted at his words and he was smiling at you, a cocky gaze fixed on you.
âIn your dreams,â you answered with an eye roll.
âOh, baby, youâre already in them,â he whispered as he tossed the ball. It hit the rim of your one remaining cup before falling in perfectly.
His words rang loudly in your ears as Harry raised his arms above his head in success, ignoring the words he just had said to you. You, however, couldnât say the same. They were running through your head on a loop. He dreamt about you? You wanted to know more, wanted to know every bit of his dreams, what they looked like and what you did in them.
At the sound of your name you blinked, pushing yourself out of your daydreams. âYeah?â
It was Harry, his palm resting on your lower back and burning the skin with his touch. âItâs almost ten.â
âFuck,â you breathed out, pulling your phone from your jacket. âIâshit I have to go. Sorry.â
He shook his head. âSâfine. Iâll walk you to the door.â
You waved goodbye to your opponents and some of the other boys you had been introduced to. Harryâs hand left your body as you both walked, and you couldnât help but be disappointed. âHappy Birthday, by the way,â you said as you turned into the hallway, the chatter of the boys over the music fading a bit.
Harry dug his hands into his pockets and smiled at you. âThank you. And thanks for coming. Itâit was nice, having you here.â
The softness in his tone was in direct conflict with the banter at the pong table, but you didnât mind. You kind of liked that the two of you had this duality, the ability to go each direction. âI had fun.â You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and turned the knob on the door. âIâll have a birthday Fireball shot waiting with your name on it, Birthday Princess.â
That made his smile turn into a grin, his dimples popping out as you stepped across the threshold and onto the front porch. âLooking forward to it, love.â
As you walked away, you tried not to let his term of endearment fill your every thought, but it was hard, especially when you looked back and he was standing in the doorway, watching you walk to your car. You exhaled and opened the driverâs side door, realizing that you had dug yourself into quite the mess with this boy.
You had been watching the door out of the corner of your eye all night, waiting for Harry and all of his friends to arrive. Lucy had noticed and pestered you about it, but you hadnât given in. You didnât feel like the entire bar staff knowing your personal businessâMatt was plenty. You busied yourself by serving patrons, making an absurd number of vodka tonics (which you despised, but you had found freshman girls preferred them to gin, for some reason) and opening bottle after bottle of beer.
You were humming along to Broken Clocks by SZA when the door opened and your name was called over the bar, Mattâs voice booming in the space. âY/N, I need a shot for the birthday boy!â Harry was standing next to him, Mattâs arm thrown over his shoulder, a grin on his face.
You turned and quickly queued In Da Club by 50 Cent, before grabbing the bottle of Fireball off the shelf. When you turned back to the bar, Harry was standing in front of you, the Birthday Princess tiara unfortunately absent. âWhereâs your crown, Birthday Princess?â You asked, pouring the dark liquid into a shot glass for him.
âItâs a tiara, Y/N,â he corrected, snatching the shot. âAnd Caleb accidentally broke it.â You could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the color in his cheeks that he was more than a few drinks in, no doubt doing shots with the rest of the party before hitting the bars.
âGood to know,â you answered, and just because he was so goddamned cute, you grabbed another shot glass and poured yourself a shot of Fireball.
âTakinâ a shot with me?â
âItâs your birthday, isnât it?â
Harry was about to say something when the music changed and he let out a cheer, Matt and Caleb and another boy, who you assumed was Tyler, pounded on the bar on either side of him. Then, they began to sing and you could help but guffaw.
âGo, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty/It's your birthday/We gon' party like it's yo birthday/We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday/And you know we don't give a fuck/It's not your birthday!â They sang, and you couldnât help but join in at the end.
âShots, shots, shots!â Matt cheered, and Harry lifted his shot glass, raising his eyebrow at you.
âCheers, Birthday Princess,â you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.
Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. âHow about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?â
âIn your dreams,â you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.
Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. âWeâve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know youâre already in them, so no need to beg for it.â
You rolled your eyes at him and pushed lightly on his cheek, a pout settling onto his lips. âShut up, Styles.â
âMeanie,â he said, moving back to rest normally against the bar. âYou have to be nice to the birthday boy, didnât you hear?â
âNot if heâs a prick,â you informed him, resting your hands on the lip of the bar and locking your elbows, leaning slightly forward. âNow, do you guys want anything else, or are you just going to annoy me all night?â
âFour whiskey cokes,â Matt told you. âAnd make âem strong.â
Throughout the night, their group achieved higher and higher levels of drunkenness. They started singing a Cheetah Girls song in their corner booth, much to your enjoyment, and Matt got on the table, something Mike only allowed because he was an employee, and made the entire bar sing Harry Birthday to Harry. When Mamma Mia came on, Tylerâwho you were increasingly discovering was pure chaos in a body, perhaps even more chaotic than Harry and Matt combinedâtried to start a conga line through the bar. Not only was he stopped by Mike, but also by the sheer number of people packed into the space.
Meanwhile, you were left behind the bar, fielding drink requests and racking up studentsâ credit cards with drinks they probably would forget ordering in the morning. You even had one Beer Baptism, an exciting element of the night, when some hockey player informed you he has drank every beer on tap, meaning he had achieved his Beer Baptism status. Harry and Matt lost their shit in the corner when you announced it and rang the bell over the bar, before grabbing two full pints of the hockey playerâs requested beer of choiceâBudweiser, for some fucking reasonâand poured it over his head.
After three, the bar had started to empty out, but the four musketeers in the corner were still going strong. Harry kept coming up to you and asking for a shot of this or such and such drink, and even requested to make an Old Fashioned behind the bar again. You told him he was too drunk to make it right, but next time he could. Every time he came up he offered some sexual innuendo or bad joke, a lingering touch on your hand when you passed him his drink, or a wink that left u scowling at him. He even unbuttoned his shirt a few more buttons so by the time it was just him and his lineage in the corner, it was barely even on him. The whole idea of âNo shoes, no shirt, no serviceâ was quickly becoming a possible line you could use, especially when he kicked his feet up on the table and Caleb was trying to grab at his boots and pull them off, much to your amusement.
At 3:45, there were no patrons left except for the booth full of boys, so you had Lucy start cleaning up while you grabbed a beerâyour first drink of the night other than the shot you did with Harryâand walked over to the boys. Harry was on the end, since he kept on coming and going from the booth, his knees spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the seat. At the sight of you approaching, he straightened up and set his drink down on the table.
âHey,â he said, drawing out the Y as you slid in next to him, his arm falling easily around your shoulders.
âHello,â you answered, nudging his knee with yours. âYouâre man spreading all over my booth, Styles.â
Tyler snorted and Harry shifted, pulling his knees in closer together. âDidnât know it was your booth.â
âI work here, you know.â
âI noticed,â he answered, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you. âI like this top youâve got on.â
You sipped on your beer before replying, âItâs a bodysuit, actually.â
âSo Iâve got a genuine question,â Matt said, leaning in towards you from across the table. âHow do you pee with that on?â
âItâs got snaps on the crotch.â For some reason Tyler and Caleb blush at the word crotch and it makes you smile internally. âCan be a bitch to take on and off, though.â
âHuh.â Matt leaned his cheek on his palm. âI never fully understood the appeal.â
âWell,â you said, placing your beer on the table. âThey tuck into pants and skirts so thereâs smooth lines. But also it kind of feels like youâre wearing lingerie.â
That had all the boys blushing, including Harry, who said, âSo thatâs like lingerie to you?â
You glanced down at the lace long-sleeved bodysuit you wore and shrugged. âGuess so.â
âI always thought lingerie involved less material, not full on sleeves.â
You mulled this over, and decided to push his buttons a bit more. âSo is a babydoll not considered lingerie to you?â
His eyebrows scrunched up and if you were being honest, the expression was positively adorable. You wondered if it was the face he gave when he couldnât figure out a math problem or was looking at IKEA instructions. âThe fuckâs a babydoll?â
âOther than a pet name?â You threw back and Harry quirked a smile. âItâs like aâŠsexy nightgown, I guess you could say.â
âSexy nightgown.â Harry stated, mulling over the thought in his head, and you watched as he brushed a hand through his hair, considering the concept. âAnd that would have more material than what youâre wearing right now?â
You shrugged and took another sip of your beer. âArguably.â
âThen yeah, I guess thatâs still considered lingerie. A sexy nightgown, huh?â He blew out a breath of air and looked to the boys across the booth from you. âDamn, the girls Iâve been seeing have been holding out on me.â
The boys laughed, but you wanted Harryâs attention back on you. Maybe it was the close proximity of his body or the smell of his cologne that overwhelmed your senses, or the way you could see the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen and the low rise of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, but you wanted him. Badly.
So you reached down and placed a hand on his thigh, high enough to make his breath catch but not too high where you were actually touching him. Just close enough to make him consider the prospect. âYouâve been picking the wrong girls, then,â you said, the words low in your chest and Harryâs eyes were on you in an instant. Immediately there was movement on the other side of the booth, Tyler, Caleb and Matt sliding out one by one. âLeaving, boys?â
Matt nodded. âH?â
Harryâs eyes hadnât left your face and the weight of his gaze had your heart pumping a mile a minute. âI think Iâm going to stay.â
His fingers moved from the booth seat next to him to cover your hand that rested on his thigh, slowly inching it up his pant leg. âIâll take him home,â you said, glancing back to Matt. âIâll let you know when heâs home, okay?â
Matt gave Harry another look, and then nodded, obviously trusting you to take care of his friend. âLet me know if you need anything.â With that, he turned away, waving to Lucy and giving Mike a slap on the back on his way out.
Your attention turned back to Harry, who had somehow slid closer to you on the seat. âWhat was all that talk about lingerie, hmm?â He asked, the hand that rested next to your shoulder moving to rub the top of your arm, heat surging through your veins at his touch. âYou always chew me out for sayinâ shit to you, and then you go and say that. In front of my friends, no less.â
You drummed your fingers on his inner thigh and caught the way he swallowed thickly at the feeling. âI wanted to see what youâd say, I guess.â
âAnd?â
âI now know youâve never seen a babydoll. Or nearly enough lingerie.â
He sucked in a breath and then leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your earlobe. âIs that your way of asking me if Iâd like to see your collection?â
Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as he grazed your hair with his nose, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He had your insides moving in circles like they were on a merry-go-round, consumed in nothing but him. Slowly, you lifted your leg closest to his so it hooked over his knee, tugging yourself closer to him. âPerhaps.â
Under the low lights of the bar, the green of his eyes twinkled at you, your coyness making him grab at your knee, kneading his thumb into your skin over your jeans. âYou told Matt youâd take me home.â
âI did.â
âWhatâs the likelihood we could change the destination on that ride home?â
Your hand moved from his thigh to his torso, skittering over his shirt and tucking against his exposed skin, his butterfly tattoo flexing under your touch. âI could be convinced. What did you have in mind?â
âYour place,â he said, hand squeezing your knee tightly when you scratched his skin softly. âFuck, Y/N.â
âYouâre drunk,â you told him simply.
With a combination of tenderness and need that had you desperate for him, he nudged your temple with his nose and said, âI wonât be in the morning.â
âIs that right?â The feeling of his breath in your ear made you grab at his side, pulling at his skin with your hand, wanting just to feel him in some way. You were sober and yet he had you feeling drunk, drunk on need and desire. âThen come on, Birthday Princess.â
The wood of your front door slammed against your back the second you shut the door behind you, Harryâs body pinning you to the door. His hands tugged on your hips and your hands were in his hair and the sounds falling from your mouth were positively sinful. The way he pulled on your bottom lip and sucked on it, making you press up into his body, hands tugging at his shirt, how his hands fell to your ass and squeezed, you squeaking into his mouth. How he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hips, allowing your centers to meet, and he shakily exhaled. It was consuming, kissing Harry, trying to keep track of what he was doing and then finally giving up and just losing yourself in him, in the way he touched you and made your entire body erupt in flames.
âJump,â he said, pulling at your other thigh and you did so immediately, not even wasting a beat before hooking your ankles around his hips and letting him grind into you.
You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of the friction from your jeans meeting and rubbing into you, and from the way his breath caught, you knew he was just as affected as you were. His necklace swung on its chain as he pulled away and sucked a line of kisses down your neck, just as you had thought about doing to him earlier. When he prodded at your pulse point with his teeth and then licked over the spot you tugged on his hair, his name a broken whimper on your lips.
Hands met skin, both of you needing more and more. You pushed at his shirt, the predominantly unbuttoned garment falling easily from his shoulders and pooling at his elbows. The fresh skin served as an opportunity, and you took it, bending your head and licking across his collarbones, his head tipping back at the feeling. You sucked a mark onto the protruding bone, right over the wing of one of his swallows, and blew on it when you were done, Harry hissing above you.
From the way his fingers were digging into your jeans and you were panting in his hold, you knew that if you didnât slow things down they were going to get out of handâand quickly. So you lightly pushed at his shoulders, his gaze bouncing up to your eyes. âWe should stop,â you mumbled, sucking in air finally. âJustâjust sleep for now. Yeah?â
ââm feeling more sober now,â he said, diving back into your neck, but you pulled on his hair, hauling him away.
âI had to literally help you walk to my car.â
He pouted at you. âThat was a weak moment.â
But you shook your head at him, having none of it. âI want you at full capacity,â you told him, and his jaw dropped slightly, just enough to part his lips and you to press a finger into the space. His teeth tugged on your nail and finger pad, eyes on yours. âWant you fully sober so I can see what Iâve been waiting for.â Then you dropped your finger from his lips and ran it along his jawline, watching his eyes try to take in every one of your motions. âPlus, I want you to be able to remember my lingerie collection when I model it for you.â
When Harry groaned, it was deep and unrestrained, a demand from the most feral part of him. His head dropped to your chest and you pushed through his locks, his panting breath on your skin through your bodysuit. âIâm not gonna be able to sleep with that image running through my head.â
You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed down on them so you could unhook your ankles and drop to the floor. âI think youâll manage. Now, câmon, letâs get ready for bed.â
His fingers threaded through yours as you pulled him through your apartment, thankful Rhea was spending the night at her boyfriendâs so she wouldnât be awoken from the giggles that left your mouth when Harry tripped over your shoes and the corner of your bookcase in the living room. You led him to your bedroom and left the door open, walking over to your dresser, kicking off your booties on your way. âAre you going to take this off?â His fingers graced over the top of your shoulder and you inhaled sharply.
âYes.â You unhooked your hoop earrings and dropped them into your jewelry box. âIs that a problem?â
âSlightly,â he answered, fingers trailing down your arm. âI was hoping to do that myself.â
You turned around so he was facing you, eyes blown out in desire and cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed that night. âThen do it.â
His tongue darted out quickly, licking the center of his lips, and then he smiled at you, a boyish look of delight. âIs this my birthday gift?â Fingers brushed the top of your jeans and you nodded. âGoddamn, arenât I lucky.â He popped the button and drew your zipper down, eyes fluttering to yours to make sure you were okay as he moved his hands to your hips, pushing the material down. âHoly fuck,â he suddenly breathed out and you glanced down.
The tattoo on your left hip had caught his attention, his palm resting just above where it started, his eyes trained on the ink on your skin. âWhat? Youâve got plenty of them.â
A chuckle left his mouth, and then he just shook his head. âYou keep on surprising me.â His fingers crept down your skin, brushing against the chrysanthemums that covered from where your bodysuit sat on the rise of your hips to a bit down your thigh. âDoes it mean anything?â
You nodded slowly. âIt was my grandmotherâs favorite flower.â
He must have noticed your word choice, because he quietly said, âIâm sorry,â before bending down and kissing over your tattoo. You inhaled sharply and watched as he tugged your jeans the rest of the way down your legs. Once youâd stepped out of them, he rose back to full height. âCan I take this thing off?â He asked, pulling softly on the hem of your bodysuit.
âYes.â
âSnaps, hmm?â He ducked his head and you widened your legs enough for him to be able to tuck his hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit and you couldnât help the whimper that felt from your lips, the sound of it making Harry smile. âI can feel you.â He pressed lightly to your center through the two layers of material and you gripped the dresser you were leaning against.
You hadnât been this wet, this in need of someone in such an all consuming way, in ages. Most people would have probably been embarrassed, but you just nodded, affirming his statement. Yes, you were wet, and yes it was all for him.
In a flourish, he gripped your bodysuit where the snaps laid and pulled, the sound of the fastenings coming undone cascading through your silent room. âConvenient,â he muttered to himself. Then, his hands pushed the mesh fabric up, revealing your black lace thong and the stretch of your bare stomach. âYou know,â he said, squeezing at the curve of your torso, âI quite liked this thing. All that mesh. Could see your bra all night and it drove me fucking crazy just having to watch and not be able to touch you.â
When he pushed it above your breasts, revealing your lacy bralette, you lifted your arms and let him pull it over your head, the fabric falling to the ground. âWell, now you can,â you informed him.
The gaze he fixed you made your skin tingle. Without another beat, his hands were on your breasts, fingers brushing across your skin and then dipping into the material. With your breasts exposed, he whispered your name, forgotten on his tongue when he leaned in and fastened his lips to your nipple, the skin hardening immediately from the wetness on his tongue.
Curses left your mouth in a string, hands tugging on his hair as he prodded at your skin. He didnât linger there though, seeming to be too focused on the greater task, because he lifted his head from your chest after a minute or so. And then his hands were at your back, unhooking your bralette and pulling it from your body, revealing your nearly fully naked body to him. His thumbs brushed over the solar system tattooed on your ribcage and you shuddered at the feeling.
âYouâre so fucking gorgeous,â he mumbled, eyes taking you in. âGood god.â
The heat that rushed to your cheeks you couldnât stop, so instead you distracted yourself with teasing him. âTake your shirt off.â His eyebrows raised, but he followed your directions, unbuttoning the final button and pulling the material off of his shoulders. As he was about to drop it to the ground you stopped him, taking the fabric in your hands. He watched in fascination as you pulled it over your shoulders, buttoned the middle two buttons, and then looked up at him. The shirt covered most of your ass, the tops of your thighs and your tattoo exposed.
âLike my shirt, huh?â
You nodded, and then decided it was your turn to touch his skin. Your hands criss-crossed across his exposed chest, brushing across the marks you had left and down, tracing his nipples until they pebbled, and then down to the laurels on his pelvis, barely peeking out from the top of his jeans. Then, you popped the button on his jeans, and when he didnât stop you, you pushed them down his legs, struggling a bit with how tight they were, but succeeding finally. He was left in nothing but his briefs, a lion tattoo on his thigh exposed to your eyes and some small ink on his knees you thought was cute. You wondered how drunk he was when he did it, but decided not to ask.
âWhat happened to getting ready for bed?â He asked, hands running up and down your arms.
âWeâre dressed for bed, arenât we?â You turned around though, and led him out of your room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. âGo aheadâIâm going to get us some water. Use anything you want, except my toothbrush. Thereâs spares under the sink.â
You left him to his own devices and made your way through your apartment, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water, tucking a bottle of ibuprofen under your arm. He would need it in the morning. After leaving them on your bedside table, you headed for the bathroom where the door was open, Harry brushing his teeth at the sink. You slid in next to him and he moved to the side, allowing you to grab your face wash and splash water on your face, swiping the liquid in circles over your skin. After your moisturizer and eye cream, you started brushing your teeth, trying not to focus on how Harry was just leaning against the wall watching you.
âYou good over there?â You asked, spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush before dropping it into the jar on the sink that held them.
He nodded. âThis is going to sound weird,â he said, âbut I feelâŠcomfortable with you. Like this kind of shit,â he gestured to the bathroom, âIâve never done this.â
âBrushed your teeth?â
âNo,â he grumbled, grabbing for your hips. âI donât usually get ready for bed when I spend the night with girls.â
You tried not to read into that statement, to wonder if you were some normal hookup or something more. Instead, you leaned in and pecked his lips, before tugging him out of the bathroom and towards your room. âWaterâs on the table,â you told him, shutting the door behind you as you stepped inside. âAnd some ibuprofen, if you want it.â
He walked over to the opposite side of the bed and gulped down the water, tossing some of the medicine on his tongue and finishing off the water. âThanks.â
âOf course,â you answered, and then pulled back the covers on your bed. You settled in between the sheets, and watched as Harry slid in beside you, obviously trying to gauge what you wanted. Once he was comfortable, you shuffled towards him, and without thinking too much into it, you rested your head on his chest. He immediately brought his arm around your body, holding you close to him. âNight,â you mumbled.
âNight, Y/N.â His voice was gravelly from exhaustion and alcohol, and you shut your eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.
You blinked, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, as you woke up. Sunlight was streaming in your curtains, which despite being blackout curtains, could do little to hold back at the sun in the morning. As you gathered your senses, you realized that the other side of your bed was empty. Picking up your head, you took inventory of the roomâHarryâs boots on the floor, your clothes haphazardly tossed in your laundry basket, your phone charging on your bedside table and a full water glass sitting there.
You had finished yours last night, if you remembered correctly. But you shrugged and grabbed the water, chugging it as you unplugged your phone and checked the time. It was noon, which was the normal time you woke up after a shift, meaning youâd had somewhere between seven and eight hours of sleep. You couldâve slept for hours, but what was more urgent than a couple more hours of sleep was where Harry had run off to. Slowly you pulled yourself up, Harryâs shirt still adorning your body, and walked out of your room and into the hallway, where the smell of coffee hit your nose immediately.
âMorning sleepyhead,â Harry said when you walked into the open plan kitchen and living room. He was sitting at the bar that divided the room in half, a cup of coffee in his hand and a bottle of Pedialyte on the counter next to him. âIâm glad you found the water. I was getting pretty close to waking you up.â
âThanks for that,â you said, raising the glass to him. You meandered past him into the kitchen, where you grabbed a coffee cupâthis one was from a National Park youâd visited the summer before with your familyâand filled it with coffee. âHow long have you been up?â
âTwo hours,â he answered. âI have a hard time sleeping after a big night out.â
âPedialyte?â You asked, nodding to the bottle on the counter.
He grimaced and set down his cup. âYeah. I went out and got it while you were asleep.â
Sun was streaming in the white curtains in the living room, casting the whole apartment in a bright mid-day glow. Harry was in just his jeans, no shirt, and you couldnât help but wonder what he had worn out. âDid you wear that out?â
He glanced down at himself. âYeah. Stole one of your big sweatshirts, too.â
âDid you now?â You shifted away from the counter, rounding the counter so you stood in front of him. âWhich one?â
Green eyes followed your hand as it landed on his knee, moving it away from the other one to create space. When you took a step forward, you could hear his breath hitch and gave him a coy smile, your free hand sliding up his thigh. âYour green one. Said Obsession on it, or somethingâit was the only one that fit me.â
You chuckled softly. âItâs my exâs.â
He huffed. âSâmine, now.â
âIs it now?â You asked, setting your cup on the counter next to Harryâs. âPlanning on taking over for him?â
âAs an ex?â
You shook your head, hands drifting up his torso. âAs the guy who gets to wear my clothes.â You tried not to think about what those words meant, what you were asking him, because your mind was too wrapped up in him to even be thinking about your intent.
âHappily.â His hands finally landed on your waist, ring-clad fingers pressing into the skin covered by his shirt. âYou know, you look good in this.â Fingers slipped under the material of his shirt, the white Styles on the chest stretching over your breast as you breathed.
âItâs black,â you told him, trying to keep your breathing even. âEveryone would look in it.â
âHmm,â he hummed, kneading your sides. âDunno about that.â
Both your hands and Harryâs explored each otherâs skin, taking inventory of every rise and fall, roll of skin, the places that made each other gasp just a bit. It felt good, being this intimate with someone just like this, nothing but one anotherâs hands. âThen whatâs so special about me wearing it?â
Palms cupped your breasts, squeezing delicately, his full forearms tucked underneath the fabric of his shirt. âThat youâre the one in it,â he murmured, voice dropping an octave. âYou, wearing my shirt, my last name on your chest.â He blew out a breath and you tweaked one of his nipples in reply. âFuck, Y/N, youâre a dream.â
âHow about we move this to my bedroom,â you said, slipping your hands up to his shoulders. âAnd I finally show you my lingerie collection?â You didnât have to ask him twice. He was standing, your hand in his, and pulling you in the direction of your room immediately, a giggle leaving your lips at the sudden movement. âSomebodyâs eager.â
âYouâve been talking about this lingerie for like twelve hours, love,â he said, shutting your door behind you. âI fuckinâ dreamed about it.â
You pulled out of his grasp and he fell down to your bed, where the sheets were twisted from sleep. His messy long hair and shirtless torso drew in your gaze, the way he leaned against your pillows, watching you. âDid you now?â You turned to your dresser and pulled out your top drawer, where your lingerie lived. âClose your eyes,â you told him, peeking back at where he laid.
Once he followed your instructions, grumbling about missing out on half the show, you pulled out your first itemâa dark blue babydoll, lace appliquĂ© covering the skirt and a bow nestled between the molded cups, a matching g-string that you slid over your hips. You fluffed your hair, suddenly wishing you had had the forethought to wash your face before you took on this endeavor.
âOpen,â you told Harry, and turned in his direction.
âHoly fuck,â he said in one breath, sitting up immediately, as if a jolt of electricity had ripped through his body. âIs this a babydoll?â
âGood memory,â you replied, leaning against your dresser. You didnât know what to do with your body other than just stand there and let his eyes trail over you. âThoughts?â
âHow would you feel about never wearing clothes again?â He asked, gnawing at his lip. âJust that.â
You blushed, and picked at the hem of it. âI think I might get cold.â
âIâll give you a jacket.â
âHow kind.â You turned around and when he whined, you turned just your head to him. âThereâs more sets to show you, you know. Close those eyes, mister.â He did as you asked and you pulled off the lingerie, lovingly folding it back into your dresser. Your fingers ran over the lace in front of you, trying to decide which one of your, admittedly many, sets you wanted to show him next. Finally, you settled on a pink lace set that was essentially see-through. Youâd never worn it beforeâit was one of your newer purchases, one youâd chosen after a successful test grade.
You pulled up the panties and hooked the bra behind your back, sliding the straps up your arms until they settled comfortably on the dip of your shoulders. Then, you turned and at the sight of Harry sitting there, patiently waiting, you decided to reward him a bit. You walked towards him, and when you reached his form, you settled your hands on his shoulders. The touch made his eyes flutter open, and the second he saw your body his eyes widened. âWow,â was all he could say as he studied the material covering your skin.
âWhat do you think?â The more his eyes lingered on you, the more you loved how you burned under his gaze.
He licked his lips and reached out, thumbing across the top of the lace thong you wore. âHow is this one even better?â
You tilted your head to the side and pressed closer to him, his palms falling down your sides as you stepped between his knees. âYouâre the first person to see this one.â
âReally?â He seemed like a kid in a candy store after being told he could buy whatever he wanted. âIâm honored.â You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned, snatching your hips back between his hands. âWhere are you going?â
âIâve got more to show you,â you informed him, pulling his hands off of you. âPatience, Styles.â
âBaby,â he rasped, the pet name falling from his mouth with ease, and you wondered if you would ever forget how it sounded. âI donât know if I can survive much more.â
Your eyes fell to his pants, where you could see his hard-on, the outline of his dick straining against the tight denim. âSomebodyâs desperate.â
âTease,â he shot back. âIâm serious, though. Iâll let you finish later.â
You considered his proposal, but ended up pulling away. âOne more. Itâll be worth it, I promise.â
He groaned, but nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as you moved away from him. At your dresser, you found the set you were looking for, a dark green set. The bra was a balconette cut, lace appliqué covering the cups and running up the straps. You pulled on the suspender belt that matched, the straps dangling down your legs as you put on the thong next. Then, you grabbed a pair of black stockings and clipped them to the bottom of the suspenders. You fluffed your hair a bit and then turned back around.
âOpen,â you instructed and when Harryâs eyes opened the moan that left his mouth ran down your spine like fire.
âFuck.â The word was all he could say, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of you standing there. âCome here.â You didnât move, though, wanting to hear him beg for you. This set had your confidence soaring through the roof, the combination of the material on your skin and Harryâs gaze making you want to see what you could make him do for you. âPlease,â he finally said, shifting towards you.
So you walked over to him, slowly, keeping your shoulders back so the bra strained across your chest. When you reached him you placed a hand on his bare chest, pressing him slightly back so he rested on his hands, eyes staring up at you as you rested a knee on either side of his thighs, sitting down on his lap. âWorth the wait?â
His hands immediately moved, settling on your hips, sliding over the green lace. âYouâre going to kill me,â he rasped, words rough in his throat. The sight of his pupils blown out in desire, chest rising and falling under your palm as he took in your body in this set made you grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips towards yours.
The two of you met in a blaze of fire, need flowing between you as he tugged you closer, your center brushing over the denim of his jeans. When you whimpered he suckled on your lip and you pulled at the roots of his hair, needing to hear him groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear every one of his sounds, to take inventory of him and store it away for later when he wasnât right there in front of you. Lips met and parted, slotting together with ease as you both surged towards one another, begging for more.
His hands were covering every inch of you, pulling and grabbing and scratching at your skin, somehow bringing you closer and closer to him. When you began to rock against his jeans he let out a hiss, pulling your hips down onto his even more. Then his head dipped, nudging up your chin as he found your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin before licking along his marks, leaving you a whining mess in his lap. You were cradling his head, not wanting it to end, just to make him continue and continue and continue.
Now that you had him, you realized how long you had been waiting for this, even if you pretended like you werenât. You had wanted him since the first time he made a bad joke and told you you looked beautiful, when he responded with a quick remark, countering your sass with plenty of his own. He met you tit for tat, ebbing and flowing with you like waves on a beach.
Your fingers wound around his cross necklace and tugged, just enough to get his lips to leave your skin and look up at you. âTryinâ to get my attention?â He teased, squeezing at your waist, tight enough that he would probably leave marks but you didnât mind. In fact, you looked forward to inspecting each inch of your body and seeing what he had left behind.
âYour jeans,â you mumbled. âI want them off.â
He chuckled lightly. âNow whoâs the desperate one?â
âShut up,â you said and he just smiled at you, his dimples poking out.
âGo on, then.â He watched as you slid back on his thighs and popped the button on his jeans, before getting up so you could pull them all the way off. Once they were on the ground, you moved towards him, but he stopped you. âLay down for me, love,â he said, eyes trailing down your body as you stood in front of him.
You didnât bother with sass, just falling to the twisted sheets and looking at him as he crawled towards you. His fingers found the clips of your suspenders, and you nodded at him, giving him silent permission to begin to undress you. When he released the stockings and began to pull them down, he kissed every inch of your revealed skin, creating a line down your calf that had your breath coming out in pants. âHarry,â you said, the last syllable of his name trailing off as he did the same thing to your other leg.
âYes?â He asked, eyes popping up to you. His hair was a mess from your hands and you loved itâthe sight of him with wide eyes and puffy dark pink lips, color in his cheeks and marks on his chest from your nails. When you didnât respond, unable to even create words as he slipped his hands up your body and tugged down the suspender belt that sat at your waist, he said, âYouâre going to have to speak up if youâve got something to say, baby.â
That pet name. It was going to be the death of you and you had no idea why. Maybe because of the emotions swirling in your chest as you looked down at him, the way you wanted to simultaneously lie in his arms for hours and jump his bones, but also just hold his hand and hear him talk to you. Perhaps it was the fact that no one had ever called you that like he did, with desire and passion laced in the word, a tenderness and an edge to it that made you weak in the knees. âI need you,â you finally uttered.
âDo you now,â he responded, leaning forward on his knees so he hovered over you. âCan you be more specific?â Impatient, you grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers to your center, where you had soaked through your thong long ago. A low groan fell from his chest at the feeling of your wetness, and he peeked up at you from where he was touching you. âYouâre soaked through,â he said in awe, brushing against your center and making your back arch up. âFuck, Y/N. Is this for me? Did I get you like this?â
âYes,â you drawled, pushing down onto his finger. Your mind was spinning, eyes fluttering shut and just losing yourself in the feeling of finally having contact where you needed him most. âPlease,â you begged finally, rocking against him with your hips, chasing more.
Harry moved without pause, pulling your underwear down your legs and running his finger between your folds. The feeling of his touch on your warm flesh had you squirming, his name mixed in with curses as he rubbed softly in a circle. âThat feel good?â He asked and you could feel his eyes traveling over your body even though your eyes were squeezed shut from the feeling. When he brushed his index finger against your hole which was dripping for him, you gasped, hips jutting down against him so the tip of his finger brushed inside of you. âGod, youâre so wet,â he mumbled, almost to himself.
Then, he dipped a finger inside of you and you cried out, desperate and needy for him, unable to contain the sounds falling your lips as he built up a momentum, curling his finger inside of you and hitting your sweet spot. âAnother,â you said, eyes finally opening so you could see him.
And the sight didnât disappoint. His eyes were on your center, watching his finger move in and out of you, and you could see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, a small wet spot where his tip was. The fact that he was leaking while fingering you somehow just added to your pleasure. He added a second finger and pressed them deep inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your entrance and making you buck up against his fingers. You were squirming on the bed, unable to stay still because he was building an orgasm inside of you like no one else ever had. You could feel your belly tightening and your high was rising, sweat beads forming at the back of your neck.
When he rubbed on your front wall you let out a helpless cry. He had found the spot that made you go insane and you could tell he was happy, a smile stretching across his face. âIâm close,â you panted.
âWhat do you need?â His words were low and they just made you want him more.
âYour mouth.â The words were broken, but he seemed to understand because he shifted immediately, falling to his stomach between your legs and pulling you towards him. He decided to go harder, because he slammed his fingers into you at a brutal pace and matched it by licking at your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. His tongue was sin against your skin, circling your clit and making you cry out. You dug your fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands, his name tumbling from your lips in a beg and a whine and a prayer all in one.
It didnât take long before you were coming, the feeling rushing up without you even realizing, your back arching and hips bucking against his fingers and mouth. He lapped at you through it, eyes open and watching your orgasm, the shudder that left your mouth and how you fell into the mattress when you came down. When he pulled his fingers from you, you hissed, and he just kissed your pelvic bone, before sitting back on his heels and dipping his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits that were covered in your juices.
âGet over here,â you demanded, hooking your foot around his hips and pulling him towards you.
He clamored over you, his lips finding yours once again, and you sighed into the kiss, pulling his mouth closer to you. You needed him like you had never needed anyone else, a feeling that took over your body and ran your mind. When his head dipped and he tugged on your earlobe you whined. âCan I have you,â he asked into your skin. âPlease? I waited and I justâŠfuck, I canât wait anymore.â
âYes,â you told him, hands falling to his waist and pushing down his briefs. âCondoms are in my bedside table.â
His head bounced up at that and he reached over, wrenching open the drawer and searching blindly for a packet. When his fingers found one he moved back over you, the foil falling next to your head. Then, he pushed his briefs the rest of the way down his legs, letting the material fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Next was your bra, his hands moving to your back and deftly unhooking it, pulling the lace from your skin. âBeautiful,â he hummed, nestling his face between your breasts.
You chuckled, brushing his hair back. âI swear, boys and boobs,â you said.
âHey,â he replied, picking up his head. âDonât make me out to be some horny teenager.â
âArenât you?â You teased, picking up the condom between your fingers.
âNo.â He took the packet and ripped it open with his teeth. âIâm twenty-one, baby.â Then, he rolled the condom down his length and you watched, absorbing his fully naked body for the first time. The cut of the muscles under his skin, the way his tattoos stretched across his torso, the full length of him that you decided you wanted in your mouth after.
He brushed his tip against your slit and you whined unabashedly, rocking towards him. âH,â you mumbled, âplease.â That was all he needed, because without another pause he was pressing into you, bottoming out in one go. You let out an unrestrained moan, grappling at his shoulders as he sunk onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours. As he pulled out and pushed back in, a groan from his lips filling the space between you, you watched his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together and he bent his head, resting his forehead against your collarbone as he found his rhythm.
Once he did, it was heaven. His sweaty skin meeting yours as he drove into you at a brutal pace, but one that felt fucking incredible. Your ankles hooked around his hips and held him close inside of you, and you tugged on his necklace to pull his lips to yours, needing the softness of his tongue inside your mouth again. Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking on his strands when he pushed in particularly hard, and he groaned. He liked his hair being pulled, you discovered, and you decided to keep at it, threading your hands through his locks and pulling whenever he hit that spongy spot that made you see stars.
âLike that,â you rasped when he latched his lips to your neck, most definitely leaving a mark on your skin. âYes, H, just like that. Fuck, youâre so deep.â Your words were a mess, just a stream of consciousness, but he didnât seem to mind. Instead, he slammed into you harder and pulled your leg higher, tugging it so that your foot rested over his shoulder and your hamstrings stretched. And when he pushed back in, you scrambled at his back, drawing harsh lines down his skin at the feeling of him reaching a new depth.
âFeel so good,â he mumbled, words broken as they spilled from his lips. âY/N, god, so good.â His hands fisted in the sheets and you dug your nails into his shoulders when he swiveled his hips slightly, brushing every inch of you. When you squeezed him, his head tipped back, exposing his neck and you leaned up, ignoring the burn in your hamstring, and licked up his throat. He rasped your name as you pulled at the skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making a mark of your own for him to enjoy later.
You fell back down and slipped your leg from its spot on his shoulder, and pulled him close to you, wanting to kiss him again. His lips seemed to be your new obsession, wanting nothing more than to be touching them constantly. He didnât seem to have a problem with it, slotting your lips between his and kissing you fiercely as he pistoned in and out of you.
There were going to be bruises on your inner thighs, you were sure of it. You would be feeling the impact of his hips on your thighs for days, every time you sat down the muscles would ache and you would remember thisâhim moving in and out of you and panting in your ear, mumbling about how good you felt around him, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved fucking you. The prospect of feeling him for days was one you looked forward to.
When he gave a particularly deep thrust you moved up on the sheets, grabbing hold of his neck to hold yourself steady, and he moaned. You peeked down at him and as he moved back in, you asked, âDid you like that?â
âYeah,â he replied, a broken confirmation. âAgain, please.â
Youâd never really done this before, so you decided to be careful with him, just a bit of pressure using your fingers. With four fingers on one side of his neck and your thumb on the other, halfway down his neck, you pressed down on his skin when he drove back into you and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. The heel of your palm rested on the hollow of his neck as your fingers squeezed on either side of his neck, watching in rapture as he fucked into you harder and leaned into your touch. Slowly, you loosened and then tightened your grip, changing it up to make sure he was getting enough air.
âIs that good?â You asked, trying to focus as he drove harshly into you, the sound of his hips slapping your skin filling the room. He bobbed his head and pressed into your palm, so you squeezed your fingers again, wanting to give him what he asked for.
âIâm close,â he said, voice husky.
âMe too,â you answered, kicking your heels higher around his waist and pressing up into him so he reached even deeper inside of you. You could feel that same high building inside of you, an intensity waiting on the brink as he pressed into you, your fingers pressing into his throat again and again.
Then he pulled away slightly, rising up so his arms were fully extended and you couldnât quite choke him anymore, so your hand fell to his bicep, squeezing at his skin as he somehow moved both faster and deeper inside of you. His hands dug into the sheets and he drove in and out of you at a pace unmatched, your head falling back to the mattress. You were panting, eyes glued to the sight of his necklace swinging back and forth as he moved, the tension in his muscles and the sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.
You couldnât take it anymore, and reached down between you two, rubbing your fingers over your clit because you were just seconds from the edge and you needed it. Harryâs eyes took in the sight in awe, and his jaw dropped slightly, a curse ripping through his throat as you clenched around him and threw back your head, a deep moan falling through the air. You were squirming underneath him, Harryâs hands having to hold onto your torso to keep you steady as he thrusted into you, finishing himself off as you came, tightening around him. His name left your lips in a beg and he picked up your hand, bringing it back to his throat.
With a tight squeeze, your fingers wrapped around his throat like before, he bucked into you once more and then was practically growling as he emptied himself into the condom, body shaking against you. You unwrapped your hand from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him down to your chest, wanting him close as he pulled out of you. âHoly shit,â he mumbled into your shoulder, and you laughed softly.
âYou ever had someone choke you before?â You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his spine as he settled.
âNo,â he said, his lips puckering against your throat, light kisses to your skin. âKind of liked it, though.â
âKind of?â You squeezed his butt cheek in jest, and he squeaked against you, making you fully laugh, body rumbling against him. âYou literally picked up my hand and put it there.â
He tucked his face deeper into your neck and you could tell he was embarrassed. âOkay fine, I really liked it.â
You hummed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. âI did too. It was my first time doing that.â
âYeah?â He picked up his head and propped it up on his palm, looking at you. âWas it okay?â
Pushing back the hair from his forehead, you nodded. âI thought it was really hot.â
A smile quirked up on his lips. âYou mean you think Iâm really hot.â
You whacked his shoulder and he feigned pain, jaw dropping slightly. âStop fishing for compliments.â He rolled his eyes at you, but moved off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the trash. Red marks covered his back from your nails and you ran your hand over them, watching as he shivered from the sensitivity. âIf anyone sees your back theyâre going to think you got fucking mauled by a bear.â
He turned his head and raised his eyebrow at you. âA bear, huh? I thought it was just this really hot girl.â
âGood to know you think Iâm hot too.â He laughed and turned fully around, crawling back into bed with you.
The sheets were sweaty but you didnât mind, you just wanted to be close to him. He laid down on his back and pulled you in, your leg draping over his and your breasts pushing up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder and you let out a breath, relaxing into his hold.
After youâd been lying there for a few minutes, he cleared his throat and you looked up at him. âYou know,â he said, âI donât know if this was obvious, but I really like you.â
His ring-clad fingers trailed up your back, drawing circles against your skin. You considered his words, rolling them over in your head, and considered your own feelings. Where did you stand? You knew you liked him based on how you felt around him, this just constant desire to have his hands on you. The way you could joke around with him and the banter between you made you feel at ease, a kind of comfort with him that you hadnât found with anyone else. He was gorgeous and kind and a bit of an idiot, but you found it endearing. You also, admittedly, loved how obsessed he was with you. âI like you too,â you replied, turning your head so you could fully look at him, your chin resting on his chest.
He looked down at you, sliding his forearm under his head. âYeah?â
âMhm,â you hummed, kissing the skin nearest to you. âReally like you, even.â
âWell thank god,â he said, pinching your skin slightly. âIt wouldâve been really awkward if you didnât.â
âWhy is that?â
He smiled at you. âI mightâve introduced myself as your boyfriend to your doorman.â
You rolled your eyes at him and pushed up, moving so you could hover over him fully, hands on either side of his head. âDoes this mean I have to go to all of your formals and shit with you?â
âObviously,â he replied, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. âAnd my drinks at 260 are going to be free.â You huffed at his request for you to make all his drinks at the bar you worked at to be free, but Harry was having none of it. âCome on, baby, Iâll come to every one of your shifts.â
âFine,â you answered, sliding your knees up his sides so you could sit squarely over the laurels on his pelvis. âBut you have to bring me a snack.â
âOh,â he said, quirking up his lips in a smirk, âbaby Iâm a full meal.â You swatted at his chest and he laughed, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before tugging you back into him. You fell into him with ease, unable to hold up any walls to him anymore. Somehow, he had busted through each one of them and you didnât want to rebuild them. Having him wrapped up in your heart was perfectly fine with you, you thought to yourself when he kissed the top of your head and asked if you wanted pancakes.
Yeah, you decided, you could get used to this.
fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things youâre having ~feels~ about, or other concepts youâre dreaming up for bartender!y/n!!!!
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Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Timeâs Batman Level Adoption Bullshit
@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so itâs just you for right now I guess.
Also, this fic is called âAunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Timeâs Sudden Acquisition Of Kidsâ in my docs, but Iâve been using the âBatman-Level Adoption Bullshitâ for so long that this is the title now.
Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured Iâd just put that out there.
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Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.
She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.
Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, heâd ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once heâd run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food theyâd had. Linkâs father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. Heâd lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadnât found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zeldaâs father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadnât given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.
Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Linkâs wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.
The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldnât be happier for her brother.
She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasnât supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.
She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.
She could relate.
After Link had his whole âwe made a whole baby personâ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his motherâs nose, thank Hylia.
Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his fatherâs eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.
Zeldaâs family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmotherâs and her great-grandmotherâs, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malonâs family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasnât a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.
However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Linkâs family.
No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didnât even know his birth parentâs names. But that didnât change the desire to find a way to work them in too.
There was only one name from Linkâs family that anyone knew.
The baby was named Link.
Zeldaâs father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.
At Zelda and Rutoâs wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.
Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.
(---)
Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.
âWho was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?â
Zelda blinked once, then twice. âCome again?â
âThe lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?â Link asked again.
âWhy?â Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.
A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. âI think Iâve acquired another son,â
Zelda came over.
This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.
His name was Link.
Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.
âZelda, stop mocking me, this wasnât my call,â Link whined, though heâd never say it was a whine.
âLink, you have to see the humour here,â she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zeldaâs idea, but she wasnât taking responsibility for it.
Link just sighed heavily. âLink found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. Weâve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,â
Zelda nodded, sobering up some. âYeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,â
Link sighed, relieved. âThank you,â
âOf course, just donât make it a habit,â
(---)
The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.
Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.
Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasnât even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.
When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.
He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.
Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.
Sheikâs mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say âYour kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,â and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasnât the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.
Legend didnât leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.
Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legendâs, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.
Time could suck it.
(---)
Lullaby, since so many of her nephewsâ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.
True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.
Not so this morning.
âWha?â She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.
âZelda,â came Malonâs clipped tone through the receiver, âdo you know about a missing personâs case for one Jerimiah Smith?â
Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasnât even up yet.
âWhy?â She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.
âI have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and heâs run away from a temporary foster home,â Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.
Lullaby sat up, pushing Rutoâs arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. âOkay, okay pause. Pause and back up,â she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. âWhat is going on?â
âI got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,â her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. âSo I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasnât home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and heâs been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a âmental thingâ that heâs dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?â
Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. âHold on,â she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.
Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfatherâs disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.
âYeah, heâs telling the truth,â Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. âAlso, I found his weird âmental thingâ. According to this article, which Iâm pretty sure isnât legal, heâs got dissociative identity disorder,â
âIsnât that dangerous?â Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.
âNo, not really. Heâs actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,â she twisted to kiss her wifeâs head, then went back to Malon. âHe probably really needs someone whoâll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isnât something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,â Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.
âHeâs fine to take in?â Malon whispered after a moment. âI just, the other boys,â
âWill need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then heâs fine and safe to be around. Iâd ask him about that, but donât force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I donât see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,â
Malon sighed on the other end of the line. âAlright, Iâll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,â
âWonderful, Iâll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn oâclock in the morning again, then next time we meet Iâm clocking you,â
Malon had the nerve to laugh.
Four, as heâd been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfatherâs old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his âbrothersâ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.
Lullaby had a feeling this wasnât the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Timeâs wish for a family.
She was going a little overboard.
(---)
Sheik wasnât surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadnât gotten a phone call before he got there.
Usually there was a phone call.
He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.
This new addition, Warriors as heâd learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.
Ah, thatâs why there was no phone call.
Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.
Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilightâs age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boyâs face. Someone hit him, with purpose.
Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.
âHello,â Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldnât be saying anything.
âHullo,â he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.
âMy name is Sheik,â Sheik offered lightly. âTime is my brother,â
The boy looked up, eying him. âTwilight is your nephew?â
âYes, he is,â Sheik nodded, smiling at him. âYouâre a friend of his?â
The boy shrugged. âKinda,â a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. âHe said Iâd be safe here,â
âYou will be,â Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. âI can assure you of that,â
He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.
âMay I, if this isnât overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?â Sheik asked after a moment.
He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.
Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.
âI ran away from home,â he admitted, looking away. âMy uh, my parents arenât, great people. I canât go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,â
âThey will,â Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. âI know my brother, and he canât turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman Iâve ever met. You wonât find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.â
He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. âAnd, if my parents come for me?â
Sheik grinned. âMy family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You wonât be going back there, I assure you,â
He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. âIâm Link,â
Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for âLinkâ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.
âLink,â Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. âCan I ask about the bruises on your face?â
The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.
âThey uh, my dad did that,â he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheikâs side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. âRight before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and Iâm a little worried about her, but I canât go back again. I, he,â he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.
âI thought he was going to kill me,â Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.
Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.
Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.
Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.
Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.
Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriorsâ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didnât get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didnât get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.
Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.
A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriorsâ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldnât get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.
(---)
Sky was probably the most skittish of Timeâs sons.
Lullaby wasnât sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didnât want to interact with new people.
She had been briefed before she visited on Skyâs background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where heâd stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.
Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being âtoo much troubleâ and that âtheyâd get rid of him tooâ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.
Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.
âDo you mind if I join you?â She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.
Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. âUh, sure, I guess,â
She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.
âDid you need something?â He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.
âNot specifically,â she shook her head. âI had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,â
He blinked at her a little dumbly.
âWhy would you want to meet me?â He asked.
âWhat do you mean?â She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.
âWell, I mean, Iâm not exactly special. And, itâs not like Iâm staying,â
âI think youâre pretty special, most people canât get birds to land on their hands like that,â Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. âAnd why would you think you arenât staying?â
âI never stay,â he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. âNo one ever considers me worth the effort,â
âYou are very much worth the effort,â Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. âTrust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldnât have taken you in if he didnât want you,â
âHeâs just doing Impa a favour,â he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. âI wonât be staying forever,â
âIâm sure my brother has explained why thatâs bullshit,â Lullaby said bluntly.
âBut, I got arrested,â he mumbled.
âSo have three of your brothers,â Lullaby pointed out. âRegularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,â
âBut,â
âIf you are going to say something bad about yourself again then Iâm telling you right now Iâm not going to listen to it,â Lullaby cut him off. âTime has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,â
âReally?â Sky looked up at her.
âYou cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,â Lullaby smiled. âHe adores you,â
Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.
âHow about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,â Lullaby suggested.
âHuh?â Sky asked, turning back to her.
âIâd like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,â she smiled.
âWhy?â
âWell, Iâd be a bad aunt if I didnât, especially since youâll be sticking around,â
Sky looked like he didnât believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.
Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.
She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.
Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.
(---)
The call about the next son had Lullabyâs head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.
Wild found a boy in the woods and theyâd decided to keep him.
This was getting to be just a bit too much.
When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.
What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.
What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasnât able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.
In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if sheâd survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldnât trust her relatives and the boyâs father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.
Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boyâs mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.
This boyâs name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.
They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didnât know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.
He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.
He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.
(---)
Eight. He stopped at eight.
Which was still too many, in Sheikâs opinion, but whatever.
The newest hellraiser at least didnât come from the streets like almost all of the others.
This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldnât financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.
They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.
When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.
She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.
Time assured her that theyâd talk to him about it. Lullaby wasnât sure thatâd help.
But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.
Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.
(---)
She wasnât commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.
At least his name wasnât âLinkâ.
#linked universe#lu#lu time#lu lullaby#lu twilight#lu wild#lu legend#lu four#lu warriors#lu sky#lu hyrule#lu wind#malon#ruto#abuse mention#injury mention#ask to tag#this is basically the intro to the au i think#it introduces all the main characters and relationships and backstories#and i also got to write a bit for rottla#i'll be honest rottla has very quickly become one of my favorite characters#i love her#i'm actually very glad other people are liking this au because i love writing it#and again if anyone wants to be tagged when i post more of this au then let me know and i'll make a list#adoption au
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Miles Between Us Chapter 15 ~Etched On Wood~
Previously in The Element of Surprise
Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."
"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed.
"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"
Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."
"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?"
Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"
"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."
If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.
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Claire stood in the quaint wonderland of whisky, gin and assorted spirits, also known as The Island Spirit Whisky Shop. One side of the store was given over to the whiskies, while numerous craft gins and spiced rums were on the other. Absently, she touched one of the bottles of liquid gold, mentally calculating how many bottles she could fit in her small luggage to bring back as presents. When she heard laughter, she glanced up to find Annalise sampling a dram with the owner, effectively ending her dithering and opting to grab just a bottle of single malt in front of her instead. They'd just arrived in Stornaway over an hour ago and decided to put her gift shopping spree on hold .
Annalise raised a whisky glass and winked. "You better start getting busy. Our driver isn't going to hang around and wait for us all day. Found anything you like?"
Claire approached her friend and showed the bottle. "Aberfeldy, sixteen years old. For us tonight."
"Very nice. Glad to see you warming up to this trip for a change. How long has it been since you last checked your phone for Jamie's message?"
"Five minutes," she replied, scrunching her nose at Annalise for bringing up the sore subject. She handed the bottle and her credit card to the shop owner before facing her friend. "I've sent Jamie a message, and he hasn't replied yet. He's got some explaining to do ...sending me away like this with too little notice." She let out an unladylike grunt. "Why can't our men be here? We're in a beautiful location ...romantic even ..." She waved a hand in the air to prove a point. "I don't understand why you're not so bothered not spending time with your boyfriend when you rarely see him, and you're only here until Monday."
"Oh, poor us girls! Without our men! God help us!"
Claire fought a smile. "Hey, now, if I recall correctly, I had to listen to you moan endlessly about not seeing Willie enough. What was that again, you said just a week ago over the phone?" She tapped her chin and pretended to go through her memory bank. "You can't stand living without him."
"Correction, missy. I told you I couldn't stand living on my own in London. Which means I'm not used to not having you around."
"Ah, my mistake. Must have misheard that part." Annalise snorted a laugh and went to grab a bottle of gin from the shelf, leaving Claire once again to thoughts of Jamie. Any day now, John would summon her back to London, probably with Mary Hawkins and Tom Christie in tow. Though she dreaded going back, she'd placated those thoughts by telling herself she'd be moving to the Highlands soon.
Despite the valuable inroads to their relationship, Claire wondered if she would have given up London and her job so soon, supposing that Jamie hadn't had PTSD. Would their relationship have moved this fast? She immediately quelled that thought because deep down, she knew in her heart whatever their circumstances might have been, they would have chosen to be together whether it was too soon or not.
She glanced once more at her phone, inwardly debating whether to call Jamie or not. What the hell is he up to? She hadn't heard a peep from him since she'd left the cottage. Something was definitely up, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"So, this work of yours is moving along fast. I bet you can't wait to start your life in the Highlands with your love, no less. So, what's the plan? Are you and Jamie buying a bigger property together, or will you be staying in the cottage to see how the relationship pans out?"
"His cottage for now. As for what lies ahead, we haven't talked about that far into the future yet."
"Quite right. Future planning is tedious, anyway. It's pretty obvious you and Jamie are meant to be together, no matter what. I saw it coming from a mile away. The way he looks at you ...you can literally see smoke coming out of his ears." Annalise comically waggled her eyebrows as she eyed the other sample bottles on the counter.
"Well, since we're talking about the future and wotnots," Claire began, lowering her voice, "I have been doing a lot of thinking myself. For starters, I want to have Jamie's babies one day."
Annalise's eyes widened.
She frowned. "Wot?"
"Babies?"
"Yes, babies." When Annalise continued to stare at her, Claire groaned. "Not now, though, silly! Our relationship might be going at full speed, but God ...I have other plans in mind before that happens."
"Yes, I get that ...but ...but have you and Jamie talked about babies?"
Claire gave the store owner an apologetic smile and pulled Annalise into the alcove by the window. "No. As I said, we haven't talked anything about the future. What's wrong with you? I know it's too early to be talking about babies, but everyone knows where our relationship is heading to. Eventually, somewhere down the line, starting a family would be the next step. Or did you think my move to the Highlands is experimental?"
"No! Of course not! It's not that ... it's..."
"It's wot?"
"I, ah ...the babies part."
"Jesus, Annalise, what's your fret about babies?"
"There's no fret!"
"What is it then?"
"I, ... I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this, but ..."
"Tell me wot?"
"I thought you knew because why else would Jamie ..."
"Know what? For God's sake, spit it all out! It quite apparent you know something."
Annalise shook her head and sighed. "It's something Willie told me. It was right after when Jamie started to remember bits and pieces about his past. Willie thinks Jamie may have been deeply affected by what he'd learned. You know ...him witnessing your parents' death and you becoming an orphan at such a young age." She puffed out a breath. "Jamie confided to his brother that ...he doesn't want to have children because he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if they would go through something as horrible as what you've both been through. I know that's not really Jamie talking, and I understand those fears are coming from a place brought about by his condition. Maybe it's something both of you should talk about. I thought Jamie might have already mentioned it."
Claire paused for a few heartbeats, absorbing Annalise's words. Should I be worried? A part of her knew it was his PTSD symptoms amplifying those fears in Jamie's head. The other part, she wasn't too sure. But he'd made so much progress, she thought. She waved a hand in dismissal and let out a humourless laugh. "Oh ... don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure Jamie didn't mean to say that in its entirety. You know how men are like ...they tend to have reservations about children and stuff like that in the beginning. Besides, he understands how his condition affects his reasoning, decisions and emotions. He's very aware of that. He told me so. So him saying not wanting to have children is not a projection of what's truly in his heart." She gave her friend a reassuring smile even though a smidge of uncertainty was starting to creep in. "Jamie and I are in love," she said with all the conviction she could muster. "And we've proven that with love, we can achieve anything. As for his current views about not having children, they will eventually change. After what he's been through, it's understandable he'd be worried about history repeating itself. He's slowly but surely recovering, and as soon as the new therapist arrives, it can only get better from there. I'm quite sure of it"
"Claire ..."
"There's nothing to worry about," she said firmly this time.
Annalise grabbed her hand. "Claire ...I have no doubt that he loves you. Even a blind man can see that. But think about this. What if ...what if he can't give you what you want? I mean babies. That's what you want one day, isn't it?" When Claire nodded, she continued. "You should talk to Jamie about your dreams of having children one day before moving here to Scotland. I don't want you to invest your time and emotion in a relationship that will probably end in regrets. I like Jamie, and I love you, and I love the love you have for each other. But I don't want to see the both of you hurt ...just because you failed to see each other eye to eye. Please promise me you'll talk about this with Jamie before turning your life upside down and moving here to Scotland and start playing house. There's a lot at stake here, Claire. Please, just talk to him. At least you know if you're both on the same page or not."
"Fine. I'll talk to Jamie. But under one condition." Annalise nodded in response. "If we're going to have this break together, promise me to refrain from any more baby talks."
"You started it."
Claire sighed. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it ends now."
"Alright, but I'm only going to say one more thing and then we can go back to holiday mode." Annalise made a broad gesture. "I can see that our little talk rattled you a bit. And don't you dare deny it!" When Claire shrugged and made a gesture to carry on, she proceeded. "I just want you to know, despite the uncertainties you may be harbouring right now, ...thanks to my big mouth, nothing changes the fact that Jamie loves you. I'm sure after you've talked, you'll arrive at some compromise about this baby thingy."
Despite herself, Claire laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Holy hell, we sure are a bizarre duo, aren't we? Poor Jamie. Here we are talking about babies when he probably hasn't even thought about marriage. If he could hear us talk right now, he'll probably put me on the next flight to London."
Annalise looked at her sheepishly. "Or perhaps not. Shall we get going?"
She raised a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Hey. What's that look for?"
Annalise wandered back to the check-out counter, laughing. "That was my wise, venerable sage look. You like?"
"No, knock it bloody off!"
..........
Jamie pressed the cold pack against his throbbing eye and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his irritation at Quentin. Stood in the cottage's open space lounge, which comprised the kitchen and dining area, he turned away to face one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time, he noticed the stunning vistas before him. Looking out to the south, there's the view of the village and valley, and the west the vast, beautiful beach, and to the north, the rolling hills. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the sceneries, but the crunching sound of Quentin's meat mallet on walnuts might as well have been a tree stump grinder splintering his skull.
"Do ye mind?" Jamie muttered, turning around to glower at Claire's uncle. "That godawful sound is making my headache worse."
"Stop whingeing." Quentin didn't bother to glance up from the chopping board on which he seemed resolved to make continuous head-splitting rackets. "Because of you, I haven't eaten all day. What kind of boys' trip is this anyway? There's no food or booze except for the bottle of expensive champagne... these walnuts ...and that ..." He jutted his chin at the fruit basket and shook his head in disgust. "Sorry I can't accommodate your headache." He watched the walnut shell fly across the counter when his mallet hit the chopping board. "As for the black eye, I'm sorry about that too."
Willie chuckled from behind his open newspaper as he lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "Everyone will now think Claire dropped one on ye. How did it happen again? I didnae quite catch the whole story since both of ye were too busy grumbling at one another when I arrived."
Jamie glared with one eye. "As ye've already gathered, Quentin did this." He pointed his index finger at the evidence and adjusted the cold pack with a free hand. "And I cannae for the life of me understand why it was supposed to be a good thing."
"I told you already ...we had a bit of miscommunication," Quentin shot.
"Miscommunication?" Jamie sputtered, throwing a hand in the air in disbelief. He spun around and faced Willie. "I said to him if I start having one of my panic attacks on the ferry..."
"...you wanted to be knocked out," Quentin interjected.
"Jesus Christ! I never said that, and I wasnae having a panic attack. I was feeling queasy."
"Yes, so queasy he turned green," Quentin added, hammering the walnut with more force this time, making Jamie flinch at the offensive sound. "And here I thought he was having a panic attack. He never mentioned anything about being prone to seasickness. So when he started to act all weird on me, I decked him."
"On my eye of all places!" Jamie shouted, slamming the cold pack on the kitchen counter. "When I said I'd knock myself out, I meant I'd take my medication and sleep it off in the car." He pointed a finger to his eye. "Look at this ...I look like I participated in a pub brawl."
Willie glanced up before turning a page of the newspaper. "Aye, that ye do."
"Well, you should have told me more about your condition," Quentin stressed, pointing the mallet at him. "How was I supposed to know what a panic attack looks like?"
Jamie blew out a breath. "Even if it was a panic attack, what made ye think socking me on the eye is the answer?"
Quentin shrugged. "I guess I get panic attacks too, ...now there!" When Jamie turned away in frustration, he pressed on. "Look at the bright side ...I got rid of your seasickness and saved you from having a relapse."
"I told ye already I wasnae having a panic attack, and I havenae had one for some time now!"
"Hey, may I remind you that I offered to drive Claire and Annalise to the airport and fly in later as Willie did? Your brother would have been in a better position to deal with your condition. I know you wanted to talk more about that bloody bench, but ..." Quentin shook his head as if remembering something. "Say ...I still don't understand why we haven't gone altogether. All this palaver with keeping this whole thing a secret and Willie taking the next plane after dropping off the girls." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Another thing, no one's told me yet where the girls were heading to."
Jamie gave his brother a warning cough.
Willie sighed and lowered his newspaper. "The lassies are somewhere having fun. Anyway, ye'll be getting yer wish granted. Ye'll be flying in my place when we return back to the mainland. Jamie told me CalMac ferries banned ye for a year."
Jamie bit back a smile at Willie's smooth change of subject.
"So Jamie told you." Quentin popped a walnut in his mouth. "Did he also tell you he didn't even try to explain to the police that it wasn't my intention to knock him out cold? That my intention was to help."
Jamie took a slow breath. "How could I? My head was still reeling from your punch. The police could only take in reports from eyewitnesses."
Quentin cast the mallet aside and flattened both hands on the counter. "All right, all right ....never mind that. What's done is done, and I apologised already." He paused for a few beats and frowned. "So ... what's happening now? Why are we sitting around in this cottage when we could be organising some grub and booze?"
"Just hang fire for a little bit more." Jamie took out his phone and pretended to fiddle with it. It was becoming more difficult to distract Quentin by the second, but he needed to do this right if his plan was going to work. "The landlord is supposed to stop by. It shouldn't be long now."
"Well ..." Quentin glanced at the wall clock. "If the landlord doesn't come anytime soon, I'm going to find the nearest pub. I'm starving. And don't tell me to eat fruits. I want a proper hot meal. And I need a drink after the morning we had."
Not happening! Jamie couldn't have him doing that. "Look, dinnae start lining yer imaginary shots just yet. Pubs open much later here. Maybe while we're waiting, ye can show me that bench we were talking about." He gave Quentin a meaningful look. "Remember? It's one of the reasons why we came here for. Ye've delayed it long enough bashing those walnuts."
Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? If we'd eaten first, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and we could be looking at that bench already. As it stands, I have to settle for walnuts. Besides, can't the bench wait? You said this trip would be entertaining. And smashing walnuts is not my idea of entertainment."
Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with this man?
Willie finally took pity on Jamie as he regarded them both with a mixture of impatience and amusement. "Look, I ken ye're both a bit on edge and didn't have a good start to the day." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know ye're hungry, Quentin, and I know yer eye's in pain, Jamie, but bickering at one another is no' gonnae help yer cause." He clasped his hands and gave Jamie a knowing look. "Why don't ye both go and look at that bloody bench while I wait here for the landlord. That way, we're getting something done. Fair enough?"
"Fine." Jamie and Quentin said simultaneously.
Willie's head briefly fell back, and he heaved a relieved exhale up at the ceiling. "Finally, they agreed on something."
Quentin ignored Willie and looked at Jamie. "Right, we might as well." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "If you'll follow me," he instructed before heading for the front door.
Jamie glanced at his brother, who just nodded and returned back to reading the newspaper. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he followed Quentin out of the house and to the back garden.
Halfway, Quentin glanced back at him. "So ...about that bench, you still remember this place?"
"Only vaguely," Jamie responded quietly, overcome with acute nostalgia as he began to take in his surroundings.
The last few nights, while Claire had been cooped up in the shed doing edits, he and Quentin had been trying to piece their history together, mostly to help Jamie understand the past. It had been a frustrating feat at best for Quentin, trying to unravel Jamie's memories as a toddler that they'd almost laid the past to rest. Until Jamie had mentioned a bench with engravings in a garden of a coastal retreat, he'd once visited as a wee bairn. To his astonishment, Quentin had immediately known the place. The more they'd talked about it, the more the memory of that day made sense and became vivid until an idea came to Jamie's mind ...to use this trip for his plan.
When they reached the back of the house, they came to a stop, and there in the middle of the freshly trimmed lawn was the bench. Fragmented images began to flood Jamie's brain, colliding together to form a vivid picture. As if being pulled by an invisible force, he made his way towards the seat. Laying a hand on the surface, he caressed the weather-worn wood, relying on his heart to know what to search for. When he found the familiar yet foreign carving, he knew he'd made the right decision to arrange this trip. "Here it is."
Quentin stooped down beside Jamie to take a better look. "Jesus, it is really here," he whispered. "Just as Henry told me." He glanced at Jamie. "And you remembered. How old were you when you were last here?"
Jamie sat on the bench and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath. "At the most, I must have been four. It was summer. My ma needed a break from us boys, so Murtagh took Willie and me on a trip here to visit Harry. Jenny stayed behind. I cannae mind what Harry was doing here, but I do remember him showing me this when my godfather disappeared into the house." His fingers traced the engraving. "I never understood then what it meant when he read it out to me. He'd told me it was our wee secret."
"It was a secret, alright. Henry wouldn't have wanted Murtagh to know."
"Aye, I sort of caught the gist of it then even though I was too young to understand."
Quentin spoke with a distant look in his eyes. "Henry told me everything that happened that day and how it had been difficult for him to keep their trip here a secret from Julia. It was supposed to be a surprise."
Jamie couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew the feeling. "Aye, I can imagine," he replied, hoping Quentin would finally take the hint and see the real reason behind this trip.
"Did you know Henry had always wanted a son for his firstborn?" Quentin asked out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, though. Claire was the light of his life, and he loved her. So much so, he would stare at her for hours while she slept. So Julia told me anyway. But he'd always said he wanted a son. I think it had something to do with him spending a lot of time with you and your brother during the summer, even before he met Julia." He smiled at Jamie. "He had fond memories of you and your brother, and it was very apparent from the stories he told me of you."
"A son," Jamie murmured, shifting on the bench as another memory popped up. "Aye, he'd mentioned something about wanting a son. He used to joke about having one, one day ...a strong lad like me were his words." He got up from his position and scoured the seat once more with his fingers and eyes, trying hard to remember where the other etching was. "I seem to recall myself asking Harry what if the baby turns out to be a girl. I cannae mind his reply, but he told me to pick a girl's name because he'd already had one for a boy. After I picked one, he carved both names we came up with on this bench ... it's here somewhere."
"Really?" Propping his specs on his nose, Quentin hunched over and began to search. "Can you remember the name you chose?"
He shook his head. "I probably came up with something daft ...like some cartoon character Jenny used to watch. "
"Or perhaps not." Quentin hunkered down, gliding his hand over the wooden surface of the edge of the bench. "Take a look at this." He stood up and took a step back to allow Jamie to see better.
What Jamie saw next took his breath away and only confirmed that niggling feeling in his guts. It hadn't been a misplaced memory nor a dream. He unseeingly watched Quentin squat down again to take a better look at the engraving, barely able to formulate words to express his emotions over the thoughts running through his head. Was this Harry's way of sending him a message ...a blessing of some sort? Or was it just some quirk in the universe, and everything had been purely coincidental? If it was the former, he'd been taken on a merry rough ride, and he could almost envision Harry's delight at his handiwork, watching them by the sidelines. Like Quentin, he was momentarily at a loss for words.
"You know, Henry's been gone for years," Quentin finally spoke after a long silence. "And it astounds me that you refer to him by his nickname with such familiarity. Only Julia called him Harry. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, sometimes you talk about him as if he's still alive. You may have forgotten many of your memories of Harry, but it's quite obvious the special bond you had with him is still there, and it must have made an impact on your life."
Jamie almost laughed out loud. If only Quentin knew. He debated whether to say anything about Harry's mysterious appearances, but after a few indecisive heartbeats, he thought, bugger it. He might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Harry has appeared to me," he blurted rapidly before he could change his mind. "Numerous time. As solid and as real as we are standing here right now."
Quentin frowned. "What do you mean?"
Briefly, he filled Quentin in on the mystery that was Harry, from the first time the appearances began and everything in between and watched an array of expressions register on the older man's face. "I've only shared this story with Willie and Claire, and now ...you. It's not something I like to share with just anyone. But because ye're Harry's brother, I thought ye ought to know as well."
Quentin let out a low whistle. "That's some story. I don't know what to say. I've never believed in all these mumbo-jumbo spirit sightings, but ..." He let out a huge sigh. "...though your story is bizarre, strangely enough, I believe you. That night when you mentioned this place and this bench, I dreamt of Henry after. For the first time in years. He was sat right here, not saying a word. That's why I agreed to go on this trip. The notion that he may be trying to say something did occur to me and thought I might as well see this special place of Henry and Julia for myself."
Jamie let out an exhale of relief just as he saw Willie walking in their direction. His brother made a motion of tapping his watch, which could only mean one thing. He needed to make a move. Straightening up to his full body height, Jamie faced Quentin and cleared his throat. "Speaking about this place ..." He swallowed and braced himself. "I haven't been entirely honest with ye."
"Is that so?"
Willie came to stand beside them, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Jamie disregarded his brother's knowing smirk. "There's also another reason for this trip that I meant to tell ye."
Quentin muttered a curse. "You're going to tell me this isn't the all-lads trip you'd been going on about, is that it?"
"Aye ...no! I mean ..." He tunnelled impatient fingers through his hair. "What I meant to say is ...with everything falling into place ...Harry, the engravings on this bench a-and how our history are sort of intertwined together ...I -I thought ...right here and now would be a perfect time."
"Perfect time for?"
Jamie puffed out a breath. "Perfect time to ask for your blessing."
"Blessing for what?" Quentin's brow puckered, but by then, he knew Jamie well enough, and it only took a quick study of the situation to determine exactly what was going to be asked. Quentin's eyes widened at the realisation. "Holy hell, Jamie! Are you bloody kidding me? Is this what all this has been about?"
"It's been coming to this, cannae ye see it?" He worked to steady his voice. "Ye dreamt of Harry sat on this bench. That must mean something, and ye know it. Everything that's happened to me ...Claire coming to the Highlands ....those ..." He pointed at the bench. "...those engravings ....they didn't happen by chance. All of it has led to this day.."
"Jesus! I can't believe you're making me want to thump you a few hours after I just walloped you on the eye and apologised for it." He rolled up the sleeves of his top. "I was just beginning to warm up to you, lad. But it has to be done. It's a rule."
"Rule? What bloody rule?" He watched Quentin clenched and unclenched his fist. "Ye really are gonnae thump me, is that it?"
"Rule is rule," Willie murmured, watching them closely while sneaking glances at his phone. "But best get this settled soon because we dinnae have much time left."
"Time for what?" Quentin shot. "What the bloody hell is going on now?"
Jamie's patience was swiftly deteriorating. "Look, Quentin ...ye can thump me later, alright? I'll even offer ye my good eye. But right now, I need yer blessing."
Quentin laughed incredulously. "Listen, son, you don't get to schedule your own thumping."
That was the last straw. Whatever patience Jamie had left dissolved. There was no time for pussyfooting. He took two steps forward and brought his face close to Quentin's. The older man looked too shocked to react, so Jamie took advantage. "Listen to me, ye cantankerous ol' git. I tried being patient with ye because I know ye like me even if ye have a funny way of showing it. But this intent on giving me grief for whatever demented reason ye have and deriving joy out of it is bloody mental. So, I'm asking ye in the nicest possible way ...give me yer blessings. Ye're gonnae give it to me anyway. So cut out all this shite and give it to me now."
A tense silence between the men ensued, and they all stood stock-still waiting for each other to give in, and the only discernible sound to be heard was the waves crashing on the beach.
When the phone notification went off, Quentin and Jamie momentarily forgot their stand-off and whipped their attention to Willie. "So gentlemen, what is it going to be? It's nearly showtime."
Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Showtime?"
..........
"Ăran na Mara," Claire read out loud as they drove past the hand-carved wooden sign. "Song of the sea. How very fitting."
"I think it's romantic," Annalise whispered in response, smiling at her from the passenger seat in front.
"Weel, here we are," the driver announced as they pulled into the driveway. "Welcome to yer home for the next few days."
Claire leaned forward to take a better look at the cottage with a thatched roof and stone wall. Though it retained its traditional features, the beautiful structure had all the subtle hallmarks of luxury, and she could tell it had been sympathetically modernised without compromising its original character. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of the white sand beach and the turquoise Atlantic ocean. "This is gorgeous, Annalise. Jamie's outdone himself with this surprise."
"He certainly has," Annalise grinned. "Shall we?"
They both hopped out, and while Annalise sorted out the driver, Claire could only stand there in awe of the surrounding. Everywhere she turned, there was something to look at - beaches, rolling hills, and islands on the horizon. She was so taken by the natural beauty around her, she didn't even notice the car drive away.
"Wait till you see inside. Jamie showed me pictures of the interior." Annalise walked up to the house and opened the wooden door, and Claire followed, hefting her luggage.
Inside was just as breathtaking as outside. "Wow," Claire breathed, admiring the views from the numerous windows. "This place is huge. There's probably enough room to accommodate ten people here. What are we going to do with all this space? The boys should have come."
Annalise just shrugged and smiled as she opened the glass door that led to the back garden overlooking the beach. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the view. There's a seat over there. I'll go and find us something to drink."
She stepped out of the cottage and sucked in a deep breath of salty air, and immediately felt at peace. Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the curved bay of the beach and the peninsula in the backdrop. As far as she could see, there wasn't a soul in the area, nor were there passing cars to be heard, just the sound of nature, white sands and blue skies ahead. Oddly enough, the scenery uncannily reminded her of her mother's painting, which hung in her family home in Oxford, making her momentarily wonder if it was still there.
Sighing, she pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. There was still no message from Jamie. She decided it was no use pining over him when he must have spent a fortune sending her here to have some quality time with her best friend. He was thoughtful that way, even though sometimes to a fault. With a shake of her head, she shoved her phone back in her jeans, but something brought her up short as she made her way towards the bench. A familiar scent.
Before she could turn around to seek for the source, a pair of strong arms slid around her waist, soft, warm lips gliding along the back of her neck.
Exhilaration snapped in her veins. "Jamie," she breathed, turning around to wrap him in her arms. "You're here."
"I'm here," Jamie returned gruffly, his big hand rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Did ye really think I'd let ye out of my sight for a whole weekend when ye could be returning to London anytime soon?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against her skin.
"A part of me didn't think so." She tipped her head back and forced him to look at her. When his face came to view, she did a double-take. "Your eye! What happened?"
His lips twitched. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach. It's just a minor accident. So, do ye like yer surprise?"
Her lungs released the pent-up breath she was holding in a rush. "I love it and even more so now that you're here."
He smiled and took a moment to search her eyes before their mouths joined, warm hands cradling her face. His tongue parted her lips and stroked with the utmost tenderness in a slow, savouring kiss making her aware of their hearts pounding in unison.
"Sassenach ..." He trailed off to brush his lips against her temple. "Before anything else, there's something I have to show ye."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Another surprise?"
Tongue tucked into his cheek, he momentarily glanced over her shoulder before his gaze ticked back to hers. "I suppose ye can call it that. Have ye been here before?"
She noticed the immediate gravity in Jamie's expression as he kissed her brow. "No. I haven't. But I must admit this place does feel familiar."
"How so?"
"The views ...it reminds me of my mother's painting. She's probably been here at one point."
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She was."
"She was? How do you know? Uncle Lamb told you?" she asked rapidly.
"Patience, woman! Too many questions all at once." He tugged her towards the bench, and when he let go, he stooped over the seat and ran a hand over the wooden surface. He glanced up at her and smiled. "Come here and take a look at this."
Claire did as she was told, and as she crouched down, her eyes landed on a string of words carved in what looked like a feeble attempt at calligraphy.
Henry and Julia - At the end, as at the start, through all the in-betweens, until the world stops spinning.
A choppy breath passed her lips as she ran her fingertips over the etchings. "It's my mum and dad."
"Aye."
"They were here." She stood up and looked around her, this time, trying to see the surroundings through their eyes. "It makes sense dad brought mum to this place. It's so romantic, and from stories I've been told, he was just ...that. And I can imagine my mum sitting here on this very spot, capturing the moment with her artwork." An intense wave of gratitude suddenly rose, almost making the moisture in her eyes spill. Jamie had done this for her because he knew, just like him, she was trying to put the pieces of her past together. "God, this is bloody insane. I wouldn't have seen this if we hadn't met."
"Ye want to hear the best part?"
She gave him a wobbly smile. "Go on then."
"Yer da proposed to your ma on this very bench."
She let out a soft expulsion of breath. Something expansive and extraordinary stirred within. It was as if, in this very moment, Jamie's revelation had taken back to her parents' past and was there to witness it. "I don't know what to say."
"The carvings on the bench was yer da's tribute to the day he proposed to yer ma."
"And you know this, how?" she asked quietly.
"Yer uncle and I put two and two together," Jamie explained, with a one-shoulder shrug. "I told ye ....some memories of my childhood have started to come back. Weel, this was one of them. When I mentioned to Quentin about how yer father showed me his handiwork on this bench when I was a wee lad, he'd figured this was the place Harry proposed. Yer father must have spoken of this place to yer uncle. I didnae understand any of it back then. I was too young. I wouldnae have realised the significance of it if I hadn't told Quentin about it. After some thoughts, I knew I had to come back and see it for myself just to prove I hadn't imagined any of it."
"But did you have to put me on a charter plane?" she softly admonished. "With Tom Christie? Are you mates with him now?"
"Tom is often hired to fly some goods to Stornoway for some restaurant. When I heard he'd be flying today, I thought it fitted perfectly with my plan. I must admit it pained me to ask him to take ye girls, but he was happy enough to sneak ye in."
"We could have flown here together."
"Aye, we could have." He took her hand in his and played with her fingers. "But I wasnae sure how I'd fare in the plane with my PTSD. Besides, I had a few personal businesses to attend to.
"Such as?"
He shook his head in amusement and kissed her lips, lingering there before drawing away. "Ye're distracting me, Sassenach and I still have something to show ye."
She heard Annalise's laughter coming from the cottage. "I presume Willie is here with you too."
"Your presumption is correct. Now stop asking questions and take a look at this." He pulled her towards the other end of the bench.
She sighed. "Alright, let's see it then."
Jamie let go of her hand and tapped a finger on the spot. "Take a look."
Claire leaned forward and read the inscription.
Jamie/Claire - the promise of greater things to come.
She frowned as confusion settled upon her. "What's this?" She traced the grooved marks of the words with a fingertip. "This has the same indentation as the other engraving. And it looks old. This couldn't have been recent."
"Yer da wrote it."
She straightened up. "Wot? But what does it mean?"
Jamie blew out a breath. "He wrote the names he would name his firstborn. He chose my name for a boy, and I got to pick yers."
Her eyes widened. "You picked my name?"
"Apparently," he grinned.
A laugh bubbled out of her. "God, so much to take in. Whatever next?"
"This." Jamie picked up a paper bag she hadn't noticed before by the bench and pulled out a padded envelope. "It's from yer workplace." He read the sender. "Dreamcatcher."
She sighed, still reeling from what Jamie just told her. "It's probably from John," she murmured more to herself as she took the envelope. She tore it open and was surprised when she pulled out its content and realised it was a children's book. "It's from Louise." When Jamie gave her a bland look, she sat down on the bench and stared at it. "She's a good friend of Annalise and a children's book author as well as an illustrator. I convince her to publish with Dreamcatcher when she showed me her work. I admitted to her a while back I wanted to be a writer. Every time our paths would cross, she'd asked me if I'd done anything about it. And every time I told her I was still working as an editor, she would give me a disappointed look." She smiled and shook her head. "I wonder why she sent this to me." Admiring the colourful print, she ran her hand over the cover. "What a talented woman."
"So ...what is the book about?"
Claire examined the book. "It's about The Unicorn and the Lioness," she answered, reading the title and leafing through the pages. As she suspected, each page was beautifully and colourfully illustrated. "Well, shall we see what we have here?" She opened it to the beginning and began to read aloud.
There once was a unicorn
That fell for a lioness.
She surprised him with her charm,
And her comeliness.
She grinned as she flipped the page. "Unusual pairing," she observed, making a face at Jamie. "...but hey ...the unusual ones tend to be the best."
She licked her lips and continued reading.
The two, you see,
Were from different worlds
So it made him wonder,
How'd it all unfurled?
"Ah ... makes me wonder too," she added softly. "This is getting interesting."
Jamie laughed, angling his body so he could also see the pictures.
In spite of their differences,
It was love at first sight.
Their feelings grew quickly,
Their hearts took to flight.
She smiled and turned to the next page.
The unicorn, his life,
Once troubled and scattered
Now calmed and on the mend
In all ways, that matter.
She glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, love heals, so they say," she remarked with a wink. "And love is all there is."
"Love is all there is," Jamie echoed with amusement.
She took a deep breath and resumed where she left off.
There were simply no words
For how lucky he'd become.
Without her by his side
Life would be hopelessly glum.
She paused for a beat as a peculiar inkling tugged in her guts. Swallowing the odd knot in her throat, she forced herself to say something. Anything! "We wouldn't want the unicorn feeling glum now, would we?" she managed, suddenly unable to draw breath.
"No," he replied. "A glum unicorn would be a tragedy."
Oh, lordy, lordy! Is this what I think what's happening? She took a fortifying breath and lifted the next page with a shaky hand.
It's hard to believe
Just how happy they were.
He could not conceive
Even one day without her.
"Happy is good," she squeaked, working her throat to be heard.
"Happiness is always a good choice ...grab it while ye can," he returned quietly.
Unable to get a grip of her runaway thoughts, a dull pounding began in her chest, gradually accelerating and drowning out the noise in their surrounding, portraying the moment with a dreamlike quality. She peered up at Jamie. Underneath his handsome exterior, she could see he was anxious, the lines around his mouth more noticeable than usual. The bruise on his eye, as much as she didn't believe it resulted from an accident, added a mixture of masculinity and vulnerability. God, I love this man! She wanted to stand up and hug him and let him know she knew where he was going with this. But now was not the time to ease his anxiety. She needed to pull herself together to see through what Jamie had probably painstakingly arranged for this moment.
"Weel, are ye gonnae finish reading it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Batting a speck of non-existent dirt from the book, she filled her lungs, nodded and read the next lines.
So he got on one knee
To hand her a gift
A tiny velvet box
Holding a silver piece
A silver piece? A record-scratching moment descended upon her like a heavy lead. What's a silver piece? Had she misinterpreted Jamie's intention? But when she glanced up from the book, there he was kneeling in front of her. Holding an expensive-looking velvet ring box, looking determined and brimming with adoration. It's not a ring, Beauchamp! It's a silver piece ...whatever the heck that is. Get a grip. She mentally shook herself. Of course, it couldn't be a ring. It's too soon for him to be asking her hand in marriage. The tiny box had to contain a key to his cottage, ....but he'd already given her one. Perhaps he bought a new house?
"Are ye gonnae to open it?" he asked, breaking her thoughts.
At a loss for words, she took the velvet box with trembling fingers. She reminded herself to calm down. She wouldn't want to embarrass them both into thinking Jamie was proposing.
"It's no' gonnae open itself, Sassenach. Or do ye want to keep holding it until ye're ready?" His lips twitched at its corner, and a spark of amusement lit his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and opened the tiny box. When she glimpsed its content, she could only manage a weak "Oh!" Nestled in the case was a shiny one-pound coin where the ring should have been. Too confused for words, she gave him a questioning look.
On his knees, Jamie edged himself forward and took her hand. Keeping his eyes on her, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sassenach ...ye ken how I've always talked about how fate in some strange, mysterious way brought us together?" Claire slowly nodded in response, unsure where he was going with this. "Weel, to this day, I still dinnae ken how it all works. This may sound mad. But with everything that's led to here and now, I firmly believe some force, unknown or known, has had a hand in bringing us together. And every day, I thank whoever is listening up there for bringing ye into my life."
Her heart swelled with love. "Jamie, you don't have to do this," she said, laying a hand on his cheeks. "I know what's in your heart."
"No." He took the coin from the box and pulled something from the back of his jeans. "I want to do this." Whatever he reached out for inside his pocket, he kept it hidden in his hand. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Loving ye is the best part of my life, Sassenach. You brought light and colour in, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Ye brought me back to life when I didnae even realise I'd stopped breathing. From the moment I first laid eyes on ye, I wanted ye for keeps. I want to be yers and for ye to be mine, and I promise I will always try my utmost best to keep ye happy."
"I've always been yours. And always will be. My move to the Highlands should have made that clear enough for you."
"Aye, I had no doubt about that. But I ken that stubborn, practical side of ye will try to argue what I'm about to ask ye is too soon." When he opened his hand, she gasped. On the middle of his palm was a three-diamond stone engagement ring with two smaller ones flanking a bigger brilliant round centre. Emotions tangled in her throat as he raised the one pound coin with his other hand. "If ye, like me, believe destiny ...the universe ...yer da or whatever ye wish to call it ...conspired to bring us together, I'm gonnae dare ye to leave it up to fate with this one-pound coin I have here."
"Wot?" Now she was utterly confused.
"I'm proposing a coin toss. The rules are simple, and it only takes five flips. If it comes up heads each time ... ye'll wear my ring. We dinnae have to marry right away. We can wait a day or ten years. Either way, I want ye to know I plan on loving ye straight through eternity. If the coin comes up tails, weel ..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I have no choice but to wait until ye're ready."
She looked down at Jamie's opened palms, a coin in one hand and a ring in the other. He was doing this so she wouldn't feel pressured to marry but feel secure enough in the knowledge he'd always be waiting for her no matter how long. She squeezed her eyes shut and crammed her fingers to her lips to keep a cry from escaping. She was not interested in tossing a coin to prove they're meant for each other. What they felt for one another wasn't based on fate or luck. They'd met, fallen in love, and now they're taking their relationship to the next level. It's something that happened all the time. They may not love each other the easy way, but their hearts were in the right place every single time. They're rock solid, and she didn't need a flipping coin to tell her that.
When she opened her eyes, a sound broke free in her chest. "Bloody hell, Jamie! Just stop with all this silliness, and put the damn ring on my finger," she hiccuped, giving him her hand.
Jamie's shoulders drained of tension as his breath released in a rush. "Did ye just agree to marry me?"
Hot tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as she let out a watery laugh and fell back on the bench, right where her father had proposed to her mother all those years ago. Though it felt right, a slight uneasiness tried to sneak in when she remembered what Annalise had told her about Jamie's doubt about having children of his own. She searched his face, and all she could see was his love and promise to make her happy. Isn't everything supposed to fix itself when two people are in love? She made a decision not to bring it up ...for now. "Yes, Jamie. I did. I want to marry you too," she breathed as she watched him take her hand to slip the ring on her finger. When she gazed at it, she could only make out the twinkle of diamonds through her tears.
"Christ, I cannae believe ye ditched the coin toss. and agreed to marry me ...just like that."
"I don't need the coin toss to know we're meant for each other," she pointed out. "And you shouldn't either."
He gave her a boyish lopsided grin, one that he was very aware always had an effect on her. Damn! He rose to his full height, tugging her along with him. "Ye have no idea how happy you made me, Sassenach," he breathed, pulling her roughly against him and grazing her earlobe with his teeth. "Now, for the love of God, give yer man his engagement kiss."
Committing this moment to her memory, she slipped her hands under his top to feel the warmth of his skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she tipped her head back and laid a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled when his chest and stomach muscles strained and swelled underneath her touch. "Is that better?" she whispered.
Jamie muttered a curse under his breath, rolling his forehead side to side against hers. "Sassenach, I said kiss. Ye cannae touch me like that when there are people that could be watching us from the house."
"Why?"
"Jesus!" Jamie's exhale came out hot against her forehead. "Why? How am I going to walk back in there in this condition? Ye look at me so innocently when ye ken well I feel a little crazy right now. It wouldnae take much to get me going. Look at what ye do to me."
They both dropped their attention to the bulge straining against his jeans. "I see," she whispered with a shrug, drawing away. "Too bad. I guess we just have to have that celebratory kiss later ...when we're alone."
Looking pained, his hand dug into her hair, pulling her back in, in his hold. "Not too fast." His lips swept over hers before his tongue dipped inside to give her his own brand of teasing. Seconds ticked by while he tantalised with a deep kiss, causing a moan to pass her throat. She felt the shudder that passed through him, the ecstasy of this second, his love, the pressure of his lust pressing between their bodies, the awe and gratitude. It was their own private celebration, drowning everything else out and ...
A throat cleared gruffly. Jamie stiffened and dragged his lips from her mouth, pink blooming on the tips of his ears. Just beyond his shoulder, she saw uncle Lamb averting his eyes and rocking on his heels.
"Uncle Lamb?" Claire croaked. "Don't tell me you're on this as well?"
"Trust me, sweetheart, you're not the only one who's been bushwhacked."
"Bushwhacked?"
"I guess this is the part where we say, congratulations." Willie's voice cut through her surprise at seeing her uncle, causing her head to drop forward on Jamie's chest. As the reality of their surroundings slowly began to encroach, Claire somehow found the willpower to unwind her arms from Jamie's neck and turn around. Three pair of eyes were trained on them with a mixture of amusement and joy for their happiness and mild annoyance from her uncle.
"Aye, we're officially engaged," Jamie announced, his arm going around her waist to pull her back against his chest. He pressed his lap to her backside to let her know the situation in his pants.
Claire stifled a giggle and put on her best smile, fully aware of Jamie's mild discomfort. "We are, indeed," she grinned, leaning back to kiss the underside of Jamie's jaw. "I must admit, I never saw this coming." She lifted her hand to show them the ring.
Annalise whooped and clapped her hands. "Well, this call for a celebration then," she beamed, skipping towards them. "Let me see it."
Squeezing her hip, Jamie let her go. She smothered the urge to laugh when she supposed that probably nothing loses a man's erection faster than a sight of her uncle Lamb's tetchy demeanour. Dismissing her silly thoughts, Claire splayed her hand out for her friend. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"
"Stunning. I'm so happy for you." She looked Claire in the eye and spoke for her ears only. "Did you tell him what we talked about earlier?"
"Which one?"
"Babies. Hello?"
Claire sighed. She didn't want to lie to her friend, nor did she want to taint the occasion by bringing the subject of future babies up. There was a time and place for that and now wasn't appropriate. She hugged Annalise briefly and spoke into her ears. "Everything is going to be fine."
Annalise brows furrowed, but when she saw how happy Claire was, she immediately dropped the subject. "If you say so."
"I know so," Claire smiled, pulling away from her friend at the sight of Willie approaching. "Now, scoot and celebrate with us."
Annalise did an eye-roll and let Willie through.
"Congratulations!" Willie broke in, raising the bottle of Moët in his hand and giving Jamie a high-five with the other. He dropped a kiss on Claire's cheek and grinned. "Welcome to the family, Claire. My not so wee brà thair doesnae mess about, does he?"
"Thank you," she smiled. "And, no, he certainly doesn't."
Jamie received a back slap and a hug from his brother while Claire watched her uncle slowly approached them, shoulders strained, and hands shoved in his pocket. Something was amiss. Quentin was avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his face was devoid of emotions. She strode to his side. "Seriously, uncle?" she hissed, disbelief colouring her tone.
Quentin ignored her. "You sneaky piece of shit!" he barked at Jamie.
"Oh, dear God, here we go again," Willie muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Again?" Claire gasped as she noticed Annalise and Willie's eyes ricocheting between Jamie and Quentin. She was about to scold her uncle when his face broke into a grin. She held her breath and stilled in anticipation.
"Congratulations, son! I couldn't think of a better man for my niece!"
"About time ye realised it, ol' man," Jamie grinned.
"Who are you calling an old man?" Quentin ground out in mock displeasure.
Annalise, Willie and Claire gaped at Quentin.
"What?" Quentin chuckled. "If I'd come right out and told Jamie right at the start, I couldn't think of a better man for my niece, he would never have fought for her the way he did."
"What kind of logic is that?" Claire fumed.
Jamie crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonnae be gold."
"It's a men thing, sweetheart and complicated," Quentin muttered, giving Jamie a dirty look.
"I'll try and keep up. Explain."
Quentin released an impatient sigh. "Men in your generation have none to too little backbone. Jamie had to realise he was good enough and strong enough for you. And you had to make him realise it. That's the top and bottom of it."
Her uncle was right, Claire thought. A few weeks ago, Jamie wouldn't have thought himself capable of coming this far with his condition. She might have been instrumental in pulling him out of the darkness where he'd lived for so long, but all the hard work had come from Jamie.
When Quentin took her hand and pulled her into an awkward embrace, she relaxed. "I'm not going to be around forever, darling," he said gruffly before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were in good hands if anything happened to me." He glanced at Jamie. "I had an inkling when Claire first told me about you, and we talked for the first time on that video chat, that your relationship was serious. The second I found out Henry's connection to you, I had to delve more into your history. When you started talking about fate and all that tripe, I didn't believe in it ...but these last few days, after spending time together, you made me believe in you. I saw something in you."
Quentin gestured toward the double-headed one-pound coin Jamie had left on the bench. "So when you tried to extract a blessing for this proposal after dragging me here under the pretence of a boys' weekend, I thought I'd have a little laugh and grant it by giving that coin Henry gave me and challenging you to leave it to fate ...without telling you it was double-headed. As you know, I was still a bit miff with you for not letting me into this big secret thing. But you surprised me when you agreed to take the challenge and told me you'd leave it to Claire to toss it. You really believe in all that destiny nonsense, don't you?" He shook his head in disbelief.
Jamie just shrugged and smiled.
"Uncle Lamb! How could you?" Claire huffed indignantly, crossing her arms across her chest. "For your information, we didn't toss the coin even if Jamie suggested it."
Quentin's eyes widened. "You didn't?"
"I don't need a damn coin to make my decisions, for God's sake."
Jamie slipped his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her. "It doesnae matter, Sassenach. All that matters is he gave us his blessings and that we love each other."
"I know," Claire whispered before glaring at her uncle. "As for you, no more tricks up your sleeves, are we clear?"
"Jamie caught me off guard with this marriage thing. Can you blame me for what I did?"
"Uncle Lamb! That's not the issue here." She pegged him down with a look. "You've been giving Jamie a hard time from day one. No more tricks and no more taunting Jamie. I love you both, and I want you to get along. Promise me."
Quentin raised his hands in the air before placing them on his chest. "Promise. Jamie's read me the riot act earlier today, and you're speaking to the converted. And I meant what I said when I told him I couldn't think of a better man for you. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you." He opened his arms to her. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"
With a roll of her eye, she stepped away from Jamie's hold and threw herself in her uncle's arms. "You know I'll always forgive you," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him close. "Despite you being such a grouch, I want you to know I am happy that you're here."
"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he said gruffly. "Now, shall we start the celebration? I'm parched and starving."
"About time," Annalise chirped with a little dance and fist pump.
Laughing, Willie popped the cork on a bottle of Moët while Jamie handed out the crystal flutes.
Claire watched as their drinks were being poured and smiled. She said a silent prayer for her parents and thanked them. There were so many things to be grateful for. Life was good, and her heart was full. She was moving to the Highlands, start her career as a writer and marry the man she loved. This was what she wanted, and she was prepared for this whatever may come their way. Her only wish was, her parents could be here today, so her father could see what a fine lad Jamie had grown up to be.
Her attention was brought back to the present when Annalise nudged her with her foot. With champagne finally in everyone's hand, they all raised their glasses to their new beginning.
"To Jamie and Claire," Willie began.
"To your happiness," Annalise added.
"To family and friends," Jamie beamed.
"To what's next," Claire breathed.
"To my next meal," Quentin snorted. "Now drink up, and let's go. I'm bloody starving."
..........
"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" Jamie asked Quentin once they were alone, and the rest of the party walked ahead of them on their way back to the cottage from the pub. "About believing in me and being happy for us?"
Quentin glanced at him. "I always say what I mean, son. Best get used to it," he grumbled.
"Right ..." They walked in silence, watching Claire, Annalise and Willie as they began singing the chorus of Living on a Prayer for the umpteenth time. "About that double-headed one pound coin ..." Jamie began.
"That was a clever touch, huh?" Quentin grinned. "Would have come handy for you if Claire had decided to use it. You still got it?"
"Aye." Jamie handed him the coin. "By the way, I have a confession to make."
"What's that?" Quentin asked, taking the coin and shoving it in his pocket.
"The reason why I readily agreed to that coin toss you suggested earlier is that ...Harry gave me one too." Jamie dug his own coin from his pocket and showed it to Quentin. "I knew the coin ye were giving me was double-headed."
Quentin stopped to look at him. "You suggested the coin toss to Claire even though you knew it was double-headed?"
"Aye."
"If Claire had agreed, would you have used the double-headed or the normal coin?"
"The double-headed, of course," Jamie admitted.
"What about all your bloody talk of fate and destiny and all that?"
Jamie shrugged. "Oh, I still believe in fate, but I couldnae take the chance. I love yer niece too much. I think ye would be inclined to agree that the universe has an odd sense of humour, and I needed to cover my arse just in case it decided to turn against me."
Quentin scowled. "Is it too late to change my mind about you?"
"Aye."
They watched as Annalise and Willie, doubled with laughter, latched on to Claire's arms after she stumbled onto the curb.
"Well, then," Quentin grunted. "What the hell are you doing here still babbling to me? Go join the fun."
Jamie shook his head. "Oh no, ye don't, spoilsport. Ye're here to have some fun too. Ye're joining in."
"I'm too old for all that. Now go and leave me in peace."
Jamie narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that really what ye want? To be left in peace?"
Quentin blew out an exasperated breath, but Jamie caught the sheen in his eyes and the smile he was battling. "No. I want you to get used to me showing up," he growled.
Jamie pretended to sound annoyed so as not to embarrass the older man. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve ye decking me."
"Deal."
..........
Jamie looked up from the mock children's book, smiling when he heard Claire doing her nightly routine in the bathroom. The book disguising his marriage proposal had been Annalise idea. As soon as she'd heard of his intention from Willie, she'd made the suggestion, desperately wanting to play a part in surprising Claire. She even had him adding a few of his own words to the poem. How Annalise's friend managed to illustrate and have the book printed on such short notice, he had no idea. But he must admit, The Unicorn and the Lioness book had been a nice touch.
Claire walked into the bedroom, looking fresh in his t-shirt, her face still flushed from the champagne earlier. He watched her shiver a little, rubbing her arms to generate heat. The sight of her bare legs kicked his heart rate up a notch. He smiled and drew the bedcover back in an invitation to get in.
As she snuggled under the crook of his arm, she smiled when she saw the book on his lap. "I never got to read the ending," she said with a yawn, her arm sliding across his waist.
He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her in closer. "Shall I read it for ye?"
"Yes, please."
"I'll start from where you left off."
"Alright."
Jamie got comfortable and cleared his throat. "Here goes ..."
So he got on one knee
To hand her a gift
A tiny velvet box
Holding a silver piece
Claire giggled. "You got me right there."
"I know," Jamie chuckled, turning the page. "Now wheesht and let me finish."
Confused and bewildered
That it's not a ring
It became apparent
She wanted the real thing
So still on his one knee
He uttered the plea:
"My dearest lioness,
Will you marry me?"
He felt his heart beating
Right out of his chest.
He could do nothing but wait
And hope she'd say YES.
When he ended and a few moments of silence ensued, Claire twisted from her position and looked up at him. "That's it?"
"Aye," Jamie replied, handing her the book. "Louise said you're a writer, so she left a blank page for you to write the ending."
"Is that so?" she said, laughing, reaching for her specs. "Well, let's see what I can do."
Jamie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and handed it to her.
After adjusting the pillow, she sat up and began scribbling, reading the words out loud as she wrote.
When she finally answered
He could not stop grinning
Because he knew, in his heart,
This was just The Beginning!
Claire closed the book and took off her specs. "How was that?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.
"It was good, but I'm left hanging. I'm dying to know what happened after?"
"Hmmm ..." She climbed on top of him and nipped his lips with her teeth. "They celebrated with their loved ones, ate a lot of food and drank too much champagne." She drew circles on his chest. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion, their night is not over yet."
Jamie flipped her on her back, making her yelp. He scanned her face for a few heartbeats. "Ye're absolutely right. He's gonnae tell her how happy she's made him," he whispered, his words thick with emotions. "And show her in so many ways how much he loves her."
She blinked away the tears blearing her vision and smiled up. "Well, he's got all night to prove he's not just a bunch of talk."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "A bunch of talk, huh? He's a big man, Sassenach, and he makes love twice as long."
She slipped her hand past the waistband of his boxer brief and gripped him hard, making him catch his breath. "We'll see about that," she challenged.
He rewarded her by grabbing her hand and slowly pressing his hips into her. "You're on, Sassenach, you're on," he groaned into her mouth before silencing her with his kisses.
Dear Readers,
Firstly, apologies for the delay in the final chapter of this series. As some of you already know, if you read my Tumblr posts, I've had a bad reaction to my vaccination. Though I feel a little better, I don't feel quite right yet hence the delay of this update. I'm easily tired and have been writing sporadically, depending on my energy level. So, after this chapter, I will take a long rest before starting the next series.
Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments on AO3 and on my Tumblr and those who left best wishes in my inbox. I appreciate them all from the bottom of my heart. Though I haven't replied individually, please know I enjoy reading them and look forward to what you have to say.
Thirdly, as you may have gathered, this is the final chapter of this series. There will be a third series. When? I have no time frame yet as I will need time to recuperate. If you wish to be updated, you can always subscribe to the WONDERWALL series by clicking here. Or follow me on my Tumblr site here.
Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, with 11560 words. If this update is all over the place, I blame it on my bad days. I personally think it's alright, but I can never be sure. I believe my reaction to the vaccination has dulled me a bit. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart: for your continued interest, readership, kudos and comments. I look forward to reading your remarks and constructive criticism on this latest update. Kudos to you all, my friends, and be safe. Keep the positive vibe rolling. Much love. X
PS I will compile a Masterlist for WONDERWALL and post it on my Tumblr site, either tomorrow or in the next few days, depending on how I feel.
#melodyheart#wonderwall#milesbetweenus#claire beauchamp/jamie fraser#claire beauchamp#jamie fraser#outlanderfanfic
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am i so bad? (that you hate me?)
Summary: Zane found himself at the outskirts of his family for most of his life. Maybe this time, they'd break away with him. Word count: 2796 Warnings: Transphobia, Islamophobia, misgendering, reference and results of past emotional abuse to children, discussion of weight in a negative tone Authorâs Notes: This was not planned to be the first installment of the streamer au!! In fact, it has little to do with the fact that they are streamers at all. This was written as a vent fic and turned into something a tad nicer than that. Give me a comment or kudos on Ao3!
âHey, mom.â Zianna burst through the kitchen entrance as Zane closed the door behind him.
âOh, Zuzu!â she exclaimed running over to wrap him in a hug, nearly lifting him off the ground. He withheld the urge to wince and hesitantly wrapped his arms around his mother, patting her back awkwardly. She set him back firmly on the ground but rocked them back and forth and something in Zaneâs chest sunk as he felt something wet soaking into his sweater. âOh, Zuzu, you never visit anymore.â She pulled back, clutching his arms. âThough it seems like youâve been feeding yourself just fine!â Zane smiled shakily, but he felt it coming out more of a grimace.
âYou should see Garroth,â he tried to joke, âpretty sure being a father made him gain a few.â Immediately Ziannaâs face dropped into a disapproving pout and she tightened her grip on Zaneâs arms.
âThat is not funny, Zuzu,â she scolded. âYour brother is working as hard as he can for that little boy.â Zane scowled.
âMalachi isnât a boy, mother.â Zianna elected to ignore him, giving his arms a punctuating (and painful) squeeze before letting go. She walked back towards the kitchen and Zane felt five years old all over again, trailing after his mother in hopes she would pay attention to him. âSoâŠâ he started awkwardly, clearing his throat, âhowâs dad doing? Heâs at work today, right?â Zianna nodded excitedly, opening a packet of deli meat.
âOh, yes! He and Garroth have been working on a brand-new acquisition for the company and itâs just taking up so much time.â She turned to smile at her son. âBut you know how much your father loves his work. Itâs such a charming quality in a man to see him so dedicated.â A distant memory of a tenth birthday without his father flashed through his head. He shoved it down. He could bitch about it later to his therapist.
âYeah, thatâs- thatâs cool. Good for him.â Zane leaned against the entrance to the kitchen. He waited for a second, the air between the two of them stale and tense. Zianna kept smiling, placing pieces of ham into sandwiches. âWhat are you- uh, what are you making?â
âOh! Well, you know Gar-Gar and his son are coming by as well, right? Iâm making some sandwiches for him!â Zane winced, his lips curling into a scowl.
âMother, Malachi isnât a boy, weâve been over this.â Zianna just waved him off.
âOh, kids are kids, Zuzu, he doesnât know anything yet.â Zaneâs shoulders hunched up and he subconsciously rubbed his sweater where he knew his top surgery scars lay underneath. Speaking of which, he needed to make a deposit to Vylad and Garrothâs accounts today. It should be one of the last payments before heâs not in debt anymore.
âThatâs not-â Zane started, his voice small. He shook his head and cut himself off. It wasnât worth it. âMalachi doesnât eat ham, either, mom.â That made Zianna stop mid-second, a piece of ham in her hand.
âWhat do you mean?â Zane shrugged his shoulders.
âMalachi is Muslim, mom, Garroth told you about this. They donât eat pig meat.â Zianna scoffed, but he could see the shake in her hands.
âWell, thatâs just silly,â she said, her voice rising in pitch. Zane swallowed nervously. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. âWhy doesnât he just follow Irene?â
âUh- because they donât have to?â Zane said. âTheyâre not forced to follow whatever religion Garroth follows, mom, they were religious before they met Garroth.â Zianna shook her head rapidly before Zane even finished his sentence, closing her fist around the meat in her hand.
âNo, but- Why wouldnât Garroth have Malachi convert?â The question made Zaneâs stomach flip a few times. The spot where the cross on his chain necklace would have rested on his collarbone burned.
âBecause heâs not an ass, mother,â Zane said, his voice taking on a sharper tone. âMalachi doesnât have to do anything they donât want to and Garroth certainly isnât going to force his child to join a religion that they donât believe in.â Zianna made a noise and Zane could see her shoulders tensing. The room went quiet for a moment before Zianna opened her fist, letting the ham drop onto the counter. She stalked over to the opposite side of the kitchen, ripping a trash bag from the container. She walked back to the counter where the sandwiches and in one movement, she swept the sandwiches, chips, and packages of deli meat into the bag. Zane flinched at the sound of the food hitting the bottom of the bag.
âWell, I guess I did all of that work for nothing!â She said, her voice squeaky and shaking with barely-contained anger. âGratitude means nothing anymore, apparently.â Zane leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, ready to make it to the front door in less than five seconds if his mother decided to move his way. He didnât say anything.
She tied up the bag, dropping into the garbage bin he knew was underneath the sink cabinet. Zianna brushed her hands off and then propped them onto her hips. Zane stayed silent. She turned towards him, her breath shaky and her smile as false as the Louboutin heels he saw by the door. âWell, dear?â she prompted. âHowâs work been?â
The change in topic made Zaneâs head spin but he was pretty sure this was the only time she would ever ask him about his job and any chance to escape her fury was latched onto with both hands. âItâs- uh, itâs been good,â he said, his voice stumbling. âSubs have been going up at a pretty steady rate and if it- uh- keeps up for a few more months, I might be able to move into a better apartment.â Zianna nodded but he could tell she wasnât absorbing anything he said. âAph would move with me, I think.â That caught her attention. She squealed.
âOh, youâre still dating Aphmau? Oh, that is so amazing!â Zianna giggled. âI canât wait to be a mother-in-law.â Zane blinked a few times.
âYou are a mother-in-law,â Zane reminded. âGarroth is married, you do know that, right?â Ziannaâs smile seemed to turn cold and Zane beat himself up for even saying anything. âBesides!â he rushed to push past his mistake, âAph and I arenât dating or anything, sheâs just a good roommate.â Zianna just shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
âOh, but Iâm sure youâll end up dating soon! That Aphmau has always had a thing for you, you know.â She winked dramatically and Zane wrinkled his nose on instinct.
ââŠSure, mom,â he said at last, not willing to get into another argument with her. Zianna wiggled in her space.
The sound of a car pulling into the gravel driveway broke the tense atmosphere that was starting to build up and Zaneâs shoulders untensed.
Garroth and his relationship was difficult. His relationship with Vylad was even more so. But one good thing that came out of them both being adults and living away from their parents was the chance to finally say shit to each other and not have their parents constantly scolding them (read: Zane) for starting a fight. There were nights were they just screamed at each other, mourning the childhoods they never got. Zane better knew the pressure shoved onto Garroth and while a part of him would always feel like his brother was ungrateful for the opportunities he was given as a child, Zane didnât know if he wouldnât react in that same way in Garrothâs position.
In a similar vein, he finally got the apology he had been craving for so many years. They were both on the ground, drunk out of their minds, and Garroth just erupted into sobs, saying that every day he woke up with guilt eating away at him. That he knew what an awful brother he had been and that he was so sure that whatever relationship they mightâve had was crushed because of his arrogance.
Zane wasnât faultless and he knew that their relationship as kids couldâve gone a lot smoother had he not gone out of his way to antagonize his family. But the feeling of relief when his big brother arrived at their childhood home, instead of dread or jealously, wasnât something heâd trade for anything.
Zianna bustled over to the door, pulling it open and waving to Garroth, who was assumedly getting out of his car and unbuckling Malachi. Zane followed her, standing behind her with his hands still shoved firmly into his pockets. He saw Malachi practically bounce out of the car, ignoring Garrothâs call to slow down as they ran up the steps to the door. Zianna opened her arms and knelt down for a hug, but Malachi bolted past her to attach themself to Zaneâs legs. âHi, Uncle Zane!â they exclaimed. Zane blinked a few times, before patting his nibling gently on the head. They cocked their head to the side. âIs it a no-touch day? Dad says sometimes you have no-touch days.â Zianna moved to open her mouth, having risen from her knees, but Zane cut her off.
âItâs alright, kid,â he said gruffly, resisting the urge to smile as Malachi tightened their grip around his knees. âYou want- You want up?â Immediately, Malachiâs face nearly split in half from the grin they bore and they unlocked their hands to reach up towards Zaneâs face, making a grabby motion. Zane bent down slightly, grabbing the kid underneath the armpits and lifting. A muscle in his back twinged, but he shifted his weight onto his legs and pulled himself and Malachi up the rest of the way. The eight-year-old wrapped their arms around Zaneâs neck, resting their head on his shoulder, and Zane swallowed harshly, trying to keep down tears from welling in his eyes. Zianna was practically glaring at them but she didnât say anything as Garroth stepped into the home.
âDad!â Malachi exclaimed, lifting their head up. âHi!â Garroth laughed, reaching a hand out and Malachi reached their hand in return, giving each other a gentle squeeze.
âI just saw you, bud,â Garroth said, grinning. Malachi shrugged, tucking their head back under Zaneâs chin.
âI know,â they said cheekily.
âDid you say hi to Ms. Zianna yet?â Garroth asked and Zane wrinkled his nose. His brother shot him a âI know what youâre thinking and Iâm thinking the same thing but I have to be a good influence on my kidâ look over Malachiâs shaking head. âCan you say hello please?â
Malachi looked over to Zianna and she waved softly. âHey, sweetie!â
âHi,â they mumbled, shoving their face into Zaneâs hoodie. Ziannaâs face dropped into a disapproving scowl, but Garroth stepped in, his nerves showing all over his face.
âI think Malachi is just a bit shy today,â he said, his voice bordering on shaking. âTheyâve had a long day.â Zianna harrumphed slightly, crossing her arms, and if Zane werenât focused on not pissing off his mother and not dropping his nibling, he mightâve laughed at his six-foot-three brother cowering in front of his five-foot-four mother.
He thought of his own five-foot-eleven height and the scene of him hunched over while his mother threw the sandwiches away and dismissed the thought of laughing entirely. Malachi tightened their grip around his neck and he adjusted his grip so that they were pressed closer to his chest. âI see Malachi plenty,â Zianna complained. âWhy wonât he give me a hug?!â Malachi made a noise and Garroth looked pained.
âMother,â his brother said gently, âweâve been over this.â Zianna shook her head.
âHoney, Iâm the mother to one of those kinds of people, I know how this works.â Zane inhaled sharply. Garroth gave a full body wince.
âCan we not have this conversation in front of them, please?â Garroth pleaded, his voice small. Zane maneuvered Malachi to one side, slipping his hand into his basketball shorts to pull out his phone. His mother shot back something, but he was too busy sending off a text to Laurance.
2:58 P.M.
Outlawed in-law: SOS. Momâs saying shit.
Garâs boytoy: :thumbsup:
Judging from the kid trying to â affectionately â choke him, it wasnât good. Looking at Garroth, who was looking at their mother like he wanted to cry, Zane made the executive decision to back away and make his way to the stairs leading up to his old room. âWherâwe goinâ? Malachi said, their voice muffled by their face being mushed into his hoodie.
âWe,â Zane said, hefting the child further up his hip, âare gonna go check out your dadâs old room.â Malachi perked up, lifting their head.
âDaddy lived here?â Zane nodded.
âSo did me and Vylad.â
âAvie Vylad?â Zane nodded again, stepping up the last stair and walking towards the back of the hall.
âThe very same.â Zane stopped in front of a door still decorated in medals and stickers of achievement. He expected to feel some sting at the blatant representation of everything younger Zane resented but he found nothing there. Blinking slightly, he reached out for the knob and pushed the door open.
The walls were bare â Garroth had taken down most of his posters when he moved out for college â but his old bedspread and desk were still there. âIs this where daddy grew up?â
âYep.â
âWhere were you?â
âI was the room to the left.â
âWith all the black stickers with bad words?â Zane snorted.
âYep.â Malachi wiggled, unlatching their hands from behind Zaneâs neck. He bent over slightly, letting Malachi slip from his arms and land on the floor. âYour dad and I had some pretty different ideas on what constituted good dĂ©cor.â Malachi peeked into the closet while Zane sat on the bed.
âOh, woahh, there are some boxes in here!â they said excitedly.
âYeah, your dad left some stuff here when he moved out. I think heâs forgotten about it to be honest.â Malachi turned around, giving Zane a quizzical look.
âHow could he forget his stuff?â Zane shrugged.
âWe had a lot of stuff as kids.â Malachi looked down at the ground, their tiny brow furrowed. They grabbed at the green scarf-slash-shawl wrapped around their shoulders.
âI have a lot of stuff now,â they said after a few moments. âI guess that makes sense.â Zane scooted back on the bed, so his back could rest against the wall. âWere you nâ dad friends?â Zane furrowed his brow.
âWhat do you mean?â
âI heard papa saying something once about you nâ dad not being friends but you guys seem like friends so I wanted to ask.â Zane blinked a few times, not sure how to respond. Two decades of pain and anger and betrayal seemed to flash before his eyes and he wasnât quite sure how to explain that to his eight-year-old nibling.
âI guessâŠâ he started, âI guess you could say we werenât friends when we were your age.â Malachi frowned and moved over to the bed to sit next to Zane.
âBut are you guys friends now?â Zane moved to rest his hand on Malachiâs head.
âI think we are, yeah. We did some mean shi- stuff to each other when we were kids because we were angry at other people and took it out on each other. But weâve talked about it now. Weâve said sorry.â Zane patted Malachi once before resting his hand in his lap. âIf you wanna know more, you should ask your dad. Not all of this story is mine to tell.â Malachi got a confused look on their face, but something mustâve clicked because their expression relaxed.
A knock sounded from the door. Both Malachi and Zane looked up to find Garroth there, a soft smile on his face. Zane squinted and saw the tired look in his eyes, the dark eye bags of nightmares that Zane saw mirrored on his own face near constantly seemed to have been amplified by whatever conversation he had with their mother.
âPapa called, bud, we gotta head back to the house.â Malachi pouted, crossing their arms.
âI donât wanna go,â they whined. âI wanna stay with Uncle Zane.â It took a second for Zane to process the statement, but before he could start sputtering nervously, Garroth just laughed.
âUncle Zane can come with us, if he wants.â Zane gave Garroth a look and his brother shrugged good-naturedly. Malachi wiggled and looked up Zane excitedly.
âPlease?â they said and Zane was surprised by the earnestness in their voice.
âSure,â he said, surprised once again by the fact that he actually did want to go with them, âIâll come with.â
#tw weight#tw transphobia#tw islamophobia#tw child abuse#mys streamer au#mys#au installement#my writing#zane ro'meave#garroth ro'meave#laurance zvahl#malachi aphmau#trans zane ro'meave
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outtakes [69]
â'Oya? What's this, touble in paradise? Whatâs wrong with our little pair of mandarin ducks?â Xinyan asks as Chongyun practically throws himself into the seat next to her. She puts her arm around his shoulders, bringing him in to tousle his damp hair. Chongyun scowls but doesn't push her off.
âOur parents,â Xingqiu says primly taking the seat opposite Chongyun at the table.
âAnd your brother,â Chongyun adds on.
"And everyone of importance going through the entire family tree on both sides,â Xingqiu continues.
âWhat about them?â Xiangling passes Chongyun and Xingqiu the drinks she had ordered for them along with colorful straws. âHey, I think they mixed up your order. Itâs still one third sweet, but they I donât think they put the extra ice and they switched the aloe vera with lychee jelly. I was going to go back and have them redo it but I tried it and it still tastes pretty good.â
Chongyn takes a quick sip of his tea, brows drawing down together as he chews on the lychee jelly pieces. âIs that passion fruit?â
Xinyan leans forward to look at the bottom of the semi-opaque cup as Chongyun raises it up towards the ceiling lights for them all to inspect.
âIt has to be passion fruit,â Xingqiu says, reaching out to take the cup from Chongyun and take his own sip. âItâs passion fruit. Do you want to trade with me? Mine has sea salt but Iâve already mixed it so it should be mild.â
âItâs fine, itâs fine.â
âSo whatâs going on with your families? Arguing about who you spend New Year with or what?â Xiangling asks. She hooks her arm through Xingqiuâs, âHey, let me use your phone.â
âWhat for?â Xingqiu reaches into his inner jacket pocket to pull it out for her. âSame passcode as before.â
âThereâs an event in the mobile game where you send out links to your friends and stuff,â Xinyan says. âLet me use your phone after. The more hits you get to your individual link the more points you get.â
âThen let me use your phones after too,â Xingqiu says.
âOur parents are asking us when weâre getting married again,â Chongyun answers the earlier question. âApparently itâs my great grandmotherâs last wish that she sees Xingqiu in red robes with double luck symbols and phoenix pins.â
Xiangling squints at him, pausing in the middle of tapping out her code on Xingqiuâs phone. âYour great grandmother on your mom's side or your dadâs side?â
âBoth.â
âOkay, that sounds suspect as hell because I was at your house last week and she told me off for not having a boyfriend,â Xiangling says. âShe sounds real good for a lady whoâs supposedly issuing last wishes.â
âI know,â Chongyun rolls his eyes. âThatâs what Iâm saying. It was her last wish last year too. I donât know how many last wishes sheâs supposed to be able to have before it really does become a last wish.â
âAnd why are you sulking about how hot of a commodity your ass is to your boyfriendâs side of the family?â Xinyan asks Xingqiu as she hands him her phone for him to collect on.
âBecause,â Xingqiu drawls, âMy family wants to officially bring in a new son-in-law and all of the doctors, therapists, healers, astrologers, and other such persons his long family line brings with them. But like. Itâs apparently all on me to do that. Xiangling, check my chat history with my aunties.â
Xianglingâs eyebrows raise up to the edge of her bangs as she switches to Xingqiuâs chat. She bites her lip, nose flaring as she snorts out a choked laugh. She quickly puts the phone flat on the table, sliding it to Xinyan as she turns to choke and cough into the bend of her elbow.
Xinyan carefully finishes chewing her boba and sets her drink out of arms reach before she picks the phone up.
Several of Xingqiuâs aunties are pestering him about if heâs checked Chongyunâs dates properly and if heâs had them checked with his for the most auspicious timing for a proposal, an engagement period, and a wedding ceremony. As though Xingqiuâs entire family hasnât known every single detail about Chongyunâs life and vice versa since the two were born.
One of his aunts has messaged Xingqiu, âWhen will you make it official, ah? What will we all do if he leaves? You know that heâs the only one popo will listen to about drinking her supplements! She loves him!â
Another aunty has messaged, âHeâs such a good boy! You arenât getting any younger, how long are you going to wait to propose? Waigongâs memory isnât as good as it used to be. She wants to remember Chongyunâs wedding when it happens!
Yet another has written out a very long message about the gift of finding such a good young man in this day and age and how letting Chongyun possibly slip through his fingers is perhaps the greatest failure Xingqiu would ever know, so he better make sure he gets this on lock down fast.
Xingqiuâs only response to this flurry of messages is to say, âMaybe I want him to propose to me, have any of you considered that? Also â donât you have it reversed? Shouldnât you be talking about this as my wedding, not Chongyunâs? Did you all forget which one of us is your actual nephew?â
The universal answer from seemingly every aunty in the chat is: well what are you doing to make that happen then? Work harder!
Xinyan understands why Xiangling started choking. The stuff from the aunties is to be expected. Itâs practically a conversation every kid has on their daily checklist when it comes to extended family members.
Xingqiuâs response is the hilarious bit.
âHa! As if youâd be the one to propose, you utter romantic,â Xinyan says. âWe all know this one is on Chongyunâs shoulders.â
Xingqiu bristles. "What's that supposed to mean?â
âIt means youâre such a hopeless romantic,â Xiangling says, eyes watering as she recovers from her laughing fit. âOf course you want someone to propose to you. Of course you want Chongyun to be the one to propose.â
âItâs also romantic to do the proposing.â
âSo you donât want me to be the one to propose?â
âI never said that.â
âNo, youâve never said anything. Now weâre getting mixed signals,â Chongyun says. âIn any case, no oneâs doing any proposing. Thereâs no wedding in the near future and I wish my family would stop act like Iâm torturing them with hot coals.â
âIn any case, arenât they being ridiculous with their hectoring?â Xingqiu huffs, squaring his shoulders. âThey only want us to be officially engaged, and then married, because they donât want to feel embarrassed about always pestering Chongyun for medical advice. Ha! As if theyâre embarrassed about it now. That horse left the barn years ago. Theyâre just tired of pretending to be embarrassed. They want to treat him like a proper son-in-law.â
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Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 1: New Neighbor
Summary: You hated moving, but luckily you had a helping hand. Bucky just wants to go home.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes Ă f!oc-insert
Word Count: 1,440
Warnings: A few curses, mentions of death
A/N: I know, I know. Another series. Don't worry, I'm still working on Home! I just been in a Bucky craze lately hehe. There's gonna be oneshots with these two and when the TFATWS comes to an end, I'll write into those episodes. Anyways, enjoy! Tags are open for this series/oneshots!
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
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âJames, did you hear me?â
Buckyâs eyes snap back from the window, landing back on the cold orbs of his therapist. For someone that was supposed to be welcoming, she tended to come off as unreceptive. Then again, she did have to put up with his bullshit.
Doctor Raynor crossed one leg over the other, her pen tapping the dreaded notebook. He knew it was just an inanimate object, but it was too passive aggressive for his liking. Or maybe it just reminded him of that red book with that grating star.
âDid you make any progress with your amends?â Raynor repeated her apparent earlier question, locking her eyes with his own.
Heâs been looking into a couple of politicians that he had helped gain their positions, ones that still held their place in office even after Hydra collapsed. They were terrible people that needed to be stopped before they harmed anyone else. All he needed was some evidence that would be enough to convict them, since he had to follow âthe three rulesâ set by his therapist.
âNo.â
Raynor let out a small sigh at his dry response. It was hard to get more than three words out of him at times, but she had come to not expect anything else. If he wanted to open up some more, he would. Today just wasnât one of those days.
She opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by the timer going off, signalling the end of the dayâs session. Bucky got up and started out the door before she had the opportunity to add anything else. Heâs come to learn that if he doesnât leave immediately, Raynor would definitely keep him there longer than an hour.
All Bucky wanted to do now was to grab a bite to eat and get back home. Heâd usually meet up with Yuri afterwards, but the old man-- that was still younger than him-- already had plans for the afternoon.
Yuri Nakujima was also someone that he needed to make amends to, but he wasnât going to let himself think about that right now. Right now, he just needed a damn burger.
You hated moving, you decided.
If someone ever heard those words leave your mouth though, they would have probably called you a hypocrite. You would have gladly informed them that moving across the world with a SEAL team was extremely different than moving across the state.
At least with a SEAL team, you were with people that you knew and loved as you bounced from an unfamiliar place to another, with the promise of returning home to see your family after the operation was over. Moving from Syracuse to Brooklyn alone wasnât really ideal, but it was the only way.
You had been one of the half billion people that vanished during the Blip, waking up one day to find out that five years had apparently passed. You came back only to find out that the United States government had disbanded your squad. The only thing the government did for you was give their thanks and sent you into early retirement, made, no, threatened you to keep your mouth shut about the highly confidential operations that you and your squad worked throughout the years. But that wasnât the worst part.
Before the Blip, the only family you had were your mother and your younger brother Colton. They still lived in your hometown while you were off working. Your mother and Colton were the only people that kept you grounded when you came home for a few weeks at a time, helping you hold yourself together when you thought you were going to fall to pieces.
When you came back, not only was the only job youâve known stripped away from you, so was your family. Your mother had passed away a couple years after you vanished, and a couple years after her passing, Colton went missing, apparently without a trace. And no one looked for him. Everyone told you that they couldnât look for someone that had been missing for over a year, that you needed to accept the possibility that he was no longer alive.
So, your taking matters into your own hands.
Brooklyn was the last place where Colton had been seen, why he was there, you hadnât the slightest idea. You found his abandoned car at one of the docks with no indication of where he was heading. It was apparent that he had some kind of business in Brooklyn, so thatâs where you were going to set up camp. He wasnât the first person you had little to nothing to use to track him down.
You set a box down on the floor of your new apartment, cringing slightly at the emptiness of the room. Maybe a couch would make it feel more homey instead of a camp out. A sigh left your lips as you walked back out the room, jogging down the stairs to retrieve the last of your belongings.
Bucky had his gloved hands stuffed in his jacketâs pockets as he moseyed his way up the stairs of his apartment building. He didnât exactly have any plans for the rest of the day, but he just wanted to spend it at home. Maybe he would get around to reading that book the waitress at that restaurant he and Yuri frequented recommended.
Upon reaching the door of his apartment, his hand reached into his back pocket to grab his keys, freezing when he noticed the door across the hall was open. Bucky looked down both ends of the hallway before inching closer to the opened door. He didnât recall that room being vacant, so it was a bit strange.
Bucky double checked his surroundings once again before he proceeded to open the door some more. Peering inside, he saw almost the same layout of his own apartment with a few boxes littering the floor. Who exactly was moving in across from him?
His silent question was answered when he heard a string of curses coming from the flight of stairs. He watched as you came into his view, struggling to balance three boxes, one of them falling out of your grasp, which pulled another curse out of your mouth. He hadnât heard anyone curse so much since he was on the battlefield during the war, let alone from a woman.
After a few moments of seeing you continuing to struggle to retrieve the fallen box, he made his way over to you, picking it up off the ground. âI got it,â he alerted you as he held it in front of him.
âOh, thank you,â you thanked him, looking over the other two boxes to see your savior. Bucky noted how your eyes briefly glossed over with recognition and how your smile faltered for a second. You know him.
You moved around him to get to your apartment, kicking the door open more with your foot. âYou can just set it in here,â you called back to him over your shoulder. Bucky nodded as he followed you into your apartment, setting the box down where you directed him to.
You wiped your hands on your pants after you set down your own boxes, turning back to face the man before you. âThanks again. It was really a pain in my ass,â you offered him a small smile as you placed your hands in your back pockets.
Bucky offered you his own smile, his less warmly than yours had been. âNo problem,â he replied shortly, stepping backwards out of your apartment, turning with a final nod to you before reaching for his keys once again.
You quickly stepped out after him, sticking your hand out towards him. âIâm Kris, by the way. I guess weâre neighbors,â you mentally face palmed at the awkward greeting that just left your mouth.
Bucky glanced down at your outstretched hand, hesitating a moment before shaking it. âI guess so. IâmâŠâ
âJames Barnes. I, uh, know,â you finished for him, closing your eyes tightly immediately afterwards. âIâm so sorry, it just came out. Now I made things weird,â you apologized, opening your eyes to look back at him.
Bucky chuckled dryly, unlocking his door behind him. âItâs fine. Hope you like it here,â he said with another tight lipped smile before slipping into his apartment.
You groaned internally as you walked back into your own apartment, locking the door behind you. After all the training youâve been through, nothing would have prepared you for anything like this.
For being literal neighbors with the Winter Soldier. One of your squadâs old targets.
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Tags are open!
#DToB#marvel#marvel imagines#bucky barnes Ă reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#winter soldier#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#sebastian stan#kay writes
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summary: the non dysfunctional!imperial family au hcs no one asked for đłđđ
character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia
here's part 2 :)
letâs set our stage, shall we?
first of all claude n anastaciusâ dad is dead coz we donât like him at all ew
so ana is the emperor, and claude is his heir presumptive (aka heâs got the strongest claim to the throne rn, but this can be changed by the birth of someone who has a stronger one - ie, anastaciusâ child who would be the heir apparent) also bc âi know my mom and i gave u lots of childhood trauma that you prlly wonât be recovering from because therapists arenât a thing here but hereâs a crown you might get to make it betterâ
claudeâs in a position where after the birth of anaâs kid/direct descendant, heâs gonna be given a duchy that athy should inherit after him while still retaining the title of prince
but after hearing of dianaâs pregnancy, ana tells her and claude he doesnât really plan on having children and wants to make their future kid his successor
he basically reserves a spot for their child in the directory and rather than announcing anything publically, anastacius names her athanasia after the sex is confirmed
then this mf obviously pulls a clown move and gets penelope pregnant and complicates things, ultimately naming her jennette, finding the name fitting - âgod is graciousâ
and really, what could be more evidence of godâs grace than the child heâs now fathering, when he thought his legacy would be ending with him?
anyways!!!
so since athy and jennette are born near the beginning of anaâs reign, both claude and anastacius are wayyy too busy trying to bring back the empire from the literal brink of bankruptcy and a possible war to really spend time w their kids
itâs alright, though!! lily is hired as athyâs nanny, while jennette gets kielâs mom as hers
they all still live together, though obviously the main palace is for ana + jennette while claude + athy are in a separate one
this 'separate oneâ is ruby palace after ana dismisses the concubines and he definitely 100% did this on purpose, and whenever heâs summoning claude heâs such a shit about it and goes about it the way youâd summon a deadass concubine
on a separate note, itâs surprisingly claude who visits athy first - heâs seen her here and there with lily but hasnât ever had the chance to spend time w her. but now itâs almost been a year since athyâs birth (or dianaâs death), her first birthday is fast approaching, and he is drunk
lily is a reallyyyy light sleeper and enters the nursery upon hearing someone inside
she doesnât expect to see the prince standing above his daughterâs crib, a strand of her golden hair between his fingers as he justâŠstares at her
she approaches quietly, curtsying in greeting - heâs too absorbed to notice, and after a few minutes of silence lilian tells him, âbabies can get lonely too, your highness.â
he glances at her then, confused. âhow?â he really canât understand how this girl, who canât even speak yet comprehend something like loneliness
âprincess athanasia is very responsive to her surroundings, much more than children her age usually are,â lily says, âand i like to believe children are able to tell when their parents are with them.â
he scoffs - what a foolish thought. still, claude sits by her bedside, and before he can register it, heâs taken over by sleep
the next night, claude makes his way towards the nursery and stiffly asks if athy could sleep beside him for the night - itâs fairly late, but lilian allows it
heâs gone to the main palace too early the next morning for athy to be awake, but she spent about two minutes tops worrying about the strange surroundings, saw the shiny chandelier and fancy bed and decided yes, she doesnât mind this kidnapping
this becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence soon enough, and sometime that week she wakes up in the middle of the night with her nose pressed into something soft and literally falls off the huge ass bed at the realisation that this something soft is actually her papaâs hair (you just know that hair smells great i mean uh-)
this mans wakes up and peeks at her on the ground, reaches out to grab her from the front of her nightdress (he swears itâs exactly how heâs seen lilian do it) and plops her back onto the bed
she backs up OBVIOUSLY, you donât just wake up with a random ass man in your bed and just vibe together?? lee jihye is dying but he glares at her for disturbing his sleep and athy pulls her act together in 0.000001 secs as claude pulls her closer and goes back to sleep
as athy grows, claude starts allowing her to visit his office during the day until it becomes a sort of ritual - heâd have tea and milk prepared and sheâd come, sitting somewhere completing a puzzle or sum while he works
mans nearly tears down the entire imperial palace the day she doesnât show up until he finds her in the garden, teaching jettie the 'properâ way to hold a teacup during tea parties while lilian and rogerâs wife, vivian, watch
athy emotionally blackmails asks him to join the tea party, so half an hour later, anastacius finds his brother sitting on the grass with a plastic teacup that athyâs filling with hot water as she lectures him to learn to fix his posture from lily so he can sit like a âproper dignified ladyâ
so in the beginning, jennette actually ends up spending more time with claude than her dad. though one day, the brothers are in the audience hall when athy runs in with felix running after her telling her not to run (thereâs a shit ton of guards surrounding anastacius so felix has orders to be with princess athanasia when claude is with ana)
anastacius is used to this sight, and watches, smirking at his brotherâs subtle smile as athy offers him this wonky looking flower crown - claude accepts it wordlessly, and ana wants to slap his ass to sanity, who wouldnât thank their kid when they do adorable things like this??
but then they hear another voice, and in comes jennette with vivian not too far behind her. now jettie has a much cleaner looking crown in her hand, but she glances at her fatherâs elaborate and beautiful crown all embedded with gems and glittering and then at the one sheâs fashioned out of daisies
she's always thought she was much like her uncle - jennette was so fascinated by the plain daises, they werenât flashy but caught her eye all the same - while athy was shiny and bold like her dad
but now sheâs second guessing her choice, how could she make such a simple crown for her dad, the emperor??
claude sighs from beside anastacius and literally picks off his brotherâs crown before tossing it towards a very tired felix
athy urges jennette forward, and with a bright red covering her entire face she offers the crown. jennette glances at her uncle for comfort before muttering, âfor papaâ
anastacius.exe has crashed
this blushly, embarrassed, and apparently talented at flower crowns kid was his?
long story short he forgets to breathe or react and jettie thinks he hates the crown and hates her and wonât ever like to see her again so she starts getting teary
claude pushes his brotherâs head down before athy can be convicted for murder
ana 100% almost faints when her tiny chubby fingers delicately place the crown in place, heâll never admit it but he closed his eyes and almost hugged her instinctively as she shyly adjusted some of his bangs around the new headpiece, muttering, âpapa prettyâ
jennette rushes back to her sister, whoâs glaring daggers at the emperor
anastacius tries to smile to calm jennette a bit and maybe look nice enough for his niece to not kill him in his sleep
right well kiel becomes the royal playmate for both the princesses - athy has her classes with him since sheâs advanced and honestly theyâll be going back forth with infodumps one minute and heâs teaching her to make paper airplanes the next
(she writes notes on the paper airplanes the next time sheâs in claudeâs office and flies them towards him, stuff like, 'does uncle cius also snore loudly like papa?â and he gets seriously offended like a pissbaby)
jennette first met kiel when he was visiting his mom - vivian had to leave for a bit and she taught him a bunch of flower names and their meanings in the meantime - he makes sure to research a new flower every time he visits her, and brings her a bouquet of said flowers she always knows them but never says anything coz she doesnât wanna hurt his feelings and he gets so excited as he tells her about their meanings itâs so cute
speaking of jennette - claude and ana may seem worlds apart but theyâre at the same level of emotionally constipated
ana watches his brother and niece interact and he craves that, an unconditional, timeless love that canât possibly be tainted by ulterior motives or the like, but he just doesnât know how to approach little jettie
it seems easy enough - sheâs a smiley, sweet girl and theoretically would be friendly if he is to approach her
but gods heâs just so ashamed - such a sweet babe grew without either of her parents and he doesnât have an excuse because holy hell, even claude is close to athy
heâs being served food in his chambers when he asks the maid about jennette, and she tells him how among her first words was 'loveâ and the brunette would just stroll the palace pointing at people and declare âlove youâ and watch their face light up
thats so CUTE OMFG
his jaw is touching the floor when heâs told that his daughter knows the names of every worker within the palaces
at this point heâs honestly questioning whether this child is his at all
heâs absolutely horrified at the realisation that this maid, who doesnât even work in jennetteâs part of the palace, knows more about her than he does - hell, he hadnât even asked vivian to keep him updated on her growth, what right does he have to stick himself into her life now?
now, the maid quietly suggests starting with something small like inviting jennette to tea and
of course he goes about it the wrong way??
poor jettie thinks sheâs being tested by the ruthless emperor on her etiquette and spends the entire day practicing with claude after athy guilted him into it
sheâs so nervous in front of her dad that he honestly feels even guiltier, and anastacius hurries to grab her hands in his to calm their tremble as she reaches to serve him tea
she apologises lmao and heâs just so flustered himself that he orders for her to sit down and instructs her through a few deep breaths
as she calms down, ana serves her the tea before asking whether girls her age even drink tea
she says no and you can literally hear the crickets
he slides the cup heâs poured for her over to his side before gesturing towards the deserts (it was claudeâs daughter-luring pro tip) on her side
âyou look like you read a lot,â ana says, before asking whether sheâs been reading anything interesting lately
âi donât, actually,â she tells him shyly
anastacius laughs at how of all things his hate for books is what she got from him - and only when jennette chuckles does he realise that he said that out loud
he lets her go around her bedtime, feeling rather⊠energized? he doesnât know how to explain it, but itâs a good feeling
heâs busy again the next day, but has an aide send her flowers - the same ones she had put in her flower crown for him
yes lucas is still sleeping in the palace, yes athy still finds him
so athy sees the flowers from uncle cius and is enraged, literally walks up to her uncle and demands he leave jennette alone if heâs only gonna break her heart by neglecting her
and so we have fifteen minutes of the emperor of obelia stuttering as he explains himself to this seven year old
smfh his cluelessness reminds her of her own dad and she takes pity on anaâs suffering soul
the next morning, to give him a chance to redeem himself, athy asks all four of them to have breakfast together - they accept the invitation, and despite an awkward start, the meal seems to be going well
peace is not written in this familyâs fate however, and this is where the first coughing up blood thing happens
ohhhh the palace staff almost gets massacred that day
athyâs limp body is moved to jennetteâs room since itâs the closest - lily bursts into tears at the very sight of her princess, jennette refuses to eat or drink until her sister can, felix hears his heart break, claude is barely holding himself together
ana is livid - who dares poison a member of his family? what has he even done to earn the privilege of calling these girls his family, when he canât protect them, at the very least?
claude absolutely refuses to leave her room and finishes all his work right outside her door, lest she wake up in pain again
anastacius canât keep his own anxiety about jennette at bay, insisting she sleep with him as long as claude stays with athanasia - he can tell sheâs drained, and she ends up sharing some of her worries late at night. he soothes both her worries and her cries, letting her curl up into him despite it being a rather uncomfortable position
the family is thrown into chaos again once they realise it was never poison, but athyâs own magic that caused this
aka when chibi lucas drops by and voodoos her back to 100%, everyone legit starts worshipping the ground he walks on - he saved their precious princess!!
ana insists on making him athyâs royal playmate after hearing she isnât fully healed yet
what does this give us? well, a very very early lucas vs kiel
since theyâve both got the title of royal playmate, they constantly argue on whether being the future duke alpheus is a better title than the future royal magician
the girls are always dragged into this - athy always takes kielâs side to avenge blackie, and jennette likes kiel too, but the young magician sir saved her sister!!
so.
when vivian passes away due to an illness, itâs like roger is an entirely different person
jennette + kiel + athy all help with the funeral preparations since she was a mother/aunt to them all
felix seems to be paying extra attention to kiel
it isnât long after this that roger decides to send him to arlanta for his studies, leaving behind two disillusioned princesses
athy spends her time viciously studying to stay ahead of arlantaâs curriculum, while jennette takes an interest in cooking
(athy tries and fails spectacularly; lucas laughs at her and jettie accidentally serves him his favourite food too salty to be edible)
a/n: this would be the first of the two parts, so stay on the lookout, hope y'all enjoyed n have a great day <3
edit: part 2
#wmmap#sbapod#who made me a princess#suddenly became a princess one day#no angst!au ?#well some angst#anastacius de alger obelia#claude de alger obelia#athanasia de alger obelia#jennette magrita#jennette de alger obelia#felix robane#lucas#kiel alpheus#ezekiel alpheus#lilian york#roger alpheus#headcanons
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