#yeah echo and fives have now wormed their way into my heart

[sammys-magical-au]

*Lionel meeting the clones*

Echo: hi, I’m Echo!

Fives: and I’m Fives!

Lionel: …

Lionel: listen, I don’t wanna be mean, but why are you two… somehow… *more* identical than everyone else I’ve met so far.

Echo: oh, that’s not mean.

Fives: we’re twins!

Lionel, to Anakin: how does that-?

Anakin: don’t ask, Nel.

Echo: basically it’s because the process of cloning isn’t perfect. Fives and I were originally one embryo but we split while we were still developing, so technically we’re twins. Or at least that’s what we call ourselves - and what everyone else calls us.

Rex: we kinda had to, you two were inseparable as cadets. You even picked each others names!

Lionel: wait, really?

Echo: yeah! I called him Fives because his designation number is CT-5555.

Fives: and I called him Echo because he used to repeat everything I said when we were all learning to talk.

Lionel:

Lionel, barely suppressing tears: Anakin, I have had these two for less than a minute but if anything ever happens to them I will kill everybody in this room and then myself.

[gatheredfates]

FIVE SONGS I'M INTO RIGHT NOW ✧˖°.

Tagged by the lovely @tsupertsundere, thank you! I try to listen to my Spotify recommendations when I can, so I do have a couple of new songs to share.

KIJO by Memorist

Are you lonely? I hope you are. 'Cause I found a way out of the dark and it will shine a light on all your scars. / The things you say held on forked tongue behind enamel cage.

I have been OBSESSED with this song for literally three days. I think it's the all the emotion the singer has when he asks 'you' are lonely. It gives me huge Kor vibes in thinking about her father, her sister (there's a line right at the start of the song about two souls), and his outlook on the world.

HOLD ONTO ME by Breaker

If you could see exactly what I see, you'd know why you have a hold on me. But you don't wanna hear the truth, why you're the only one I choose.

Kijo managed to grip me tighter than Hold Onto Me, but it's equally a really good song! I like it's opening.

NOBODY by Faith Marie

The darkness swallowing me whole could never strip me of your soul. These chains so complicated, these memories so faded. They say I can't feel nothing but in the ocean, I heard a heartbeat.

Are you a Kingdom Hearts fan? Do you love Dearly Beloved? This is SUCH a pretty tribute song and I'm delighted I found it.

CAROUSEL by Echos

Go slow, I don't wanna get sick on it. Poison on your tongue made me pay for it. There's no end in sight, no we're not stopping, hold me by the throat so I don't vomit.

One of my really good friends is super into Echos and always sends me her new songs so I can obsess with them together. (It's really good, you should check it out!)

HEART OF DARKNESS by Grim Salvo

As I journey deeper into the heart I see mothers eating the weakest of their young. I'm not done! Promised myself I wouldn't succumb, giving all of my blame away to the bugs. / God no! I don't remember the way home. Born scared, I admit it, I really don't wanna go, no!

This song is so EDGY, but I vibe with it so much. This was my previous ear worm before KIJO and gave me a tonne of inspo when thinking about El and her thoughts around the void/Ishgard.

Tagging: @viiioca, @lilas, @omnifariousness, @unbreakable-oaths, @constellationkeeper, @lavampira, @this-is-ris, @iron-sparrow, @oh-yeah-no, @feathersage and you!

If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you’re prince harry’s personal bodyguard.

a/n: hi angels! i’m SO EXCITED to be finally sharing this story, and i’m really proud of this piece! like it’s genuinely one of my favorites i’ve ever written and one of my babies, so i can’t wait to hear what you all think! this story is inspired by gold rush by taylor swift, and this story immediately came to me once i heard the song. so, enjoy and please reblog and leave feedback! 

thank you to my best beta and friend tina @sunflowers-styles​ and miss zoey @serendipitystyles​ who screamed with me when i just started writing it, ily both! 

WORD COUNT: 24.7k of prince!harry x guard!yn (it’s gonna be a rollercoaster <3) 

WARNINGS: ANGST (genuinely a lot of it), smut, mentions of death and disease 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SINKING SHIPS’ i’d love to know your thoughts! 

pls rb to share! <3

.・。.・゜

‘Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in.’ 

With a slight groan, you were taken out of your slumber by the sunlight that was seeping through your curtains. The birds were chirping away quite loudly this morning—acting like there weren’t people who were sleeping at seven in the morning, but early birds get the worm, right?

You sat up, stretching your arms towards the ceiling as you let out an inhumane sound that was very ‘unladylike’ before freshening up in the restroom. After putting on your regular and daily uniform: black slacks, white crisp shirt with a black tie, and black formal shoes—you opted out on wearing a blazer since you were going to be out for most of the day—before you headed towards the kitchen that felt like miles away because the Royal House was huge. 

The chefs were already up, bright and early, ready to feed the Royal family. The aroma of French toast and sautéed vegetables filled your senses, making your mouth water. 

“Morning, everyone!” You greeted happily once you entered the kitchen. 

“Goodmorning, Y/N!” The chefs welcomed you into their kitchen in sync. You softly smiled, walking over to the fruit basket at the edge of the marble counter, grabbing a banana and orange before walking over to the island and leaning your elbows on it as you watched the chefs cook. 

You always loved watching them work on their art, it was quite mesmerizing—the way they sautéed the vegetables, tossing the contents into the air was always something you loved ever since you were young. They were always so proud and humble about their work, presenting it with a satisfied smile as satiated empty stomachs. 

Suddenly, the side door opened, revealing Maria tugging on the wagon that carried basketfuls of fresh vegetables and fruits. You quickly walked towards her, grabbing the basket from the wagon to set it down on the counter. The baskets were always quite heavy, and you always made sure to help her out every morning since she wakes up at sunrise to pick out and wash the produce for the day. 

“Thank you, my dear,” Maria said, smiling. 

“Of course, Maria. These are beautiful.” You handpicked vegetables and fruits. “One day, I’ll wake up earlier to help you out in the morning, so you’re not all by yourself,” you suggested. Maria was like a mother to you, and you truly looked up to her ever since you started to remember things. You never really knew who your real mom was because she had passed away when you were just a year old, so you saw Maria as a motherly figure. 

You remembered when you first visited the Royal House; your father, Josiah, used to be a stableman and would bring you to work with him every day, occasionally letting you ride on the horses with him if it was allowed. Josiah and Maria had a mutual liking towards one another, but neither of them had acted upon it. They had just simply acknowledged the fact they had feelings for one another. So, you were around Maria a lot, and it wasn’t forced because you genuinely took a liking towards her and she started becoming a female figure in your life that you never really had. 

“Oh, you’re so sweet, but that’s not needed. I know how exhausting your day is, so get those few extra hours of sleep, okay?” She raised her brows at you, and you chuckled, nodding your head at her. “And besides, I’ve actually got some help…” she trailed off in suspense. 

It was your turn to raise your brows at her. “Really? And who might that be?” A tint of pinkness hit Maria’s cheeks as she looked down, occupying herself by taking the produce out of the basket. 

“Just…Nathaniel.” 

“Nathaniel, really?” 

“Yeah, he’s nice, yeah? Handsome. Funny. Kind,” she started to sound like she was convincing you, but you really didn’t need all that much convincing because you actually knew him.

“I know Nathaniel, but thanks for the little recap,” you joked, chuckling as Maria blushed. “So, do you like him?” You asked. 

“I mean…I don’t know. Maybe,” she admitted shyly. You gave her an encouraging smile because you knew that she was only shy to confess the truth because she had been in love with your father. 

“Good—that’s good. Well, if you are taking a liking towards him, don’t run away from your feelings,” you told her sternly as if you were the mother now. “You deserve to be happy and in love!” 

“Suppose you’re right. I just feel…bad.” 

“Don’t be. He would want you to be happy, I promise,” you reminded Maria. 

You could definitely understand why she felt bad about the fact that she was interested in Nathaniel. Maria and Josiah were in love, once upon a time, but ever since your father passed away two years ago, due to his heart condition, it was difficult for Maria to move on from the love of her life. With regret wilting down on her face, she asked herself why she didn’t bother to do anything about her love for him, and she didn’t know if it was the right thing to do to be interested in someone else. However, you constantly reminded her that Josiah wanted you two to have a great life, containing a lot of love and laughter. 

Looking at the wall clock above the chocolate brown cabinets, you realized that it was a bit past seven, so duties for the day were calling. You kissed Maria on the cheek, telling her that you’ll see her during lunch before bidding the rest of the staff goodbye as you headed out of the kitchen

Your clad black shoes clicked against the shiny and polished tiled floor, echoing the corridor of the Royal House as you walked towards the West Wing of the house; the staff and employees all lived on the East Wing, and it was quite a walk from one end to the other. 

Knocking on the tall and heavy door, you heard absolute silence on the other side, which wasn’t abnormal. So, you knocked once more, hearing no movement before you allowed yourself inside of the bedroom of the Prince. 

As you expected, he was sprawled out onto his large bed, too large for one person, with his curls covering his forehead. His mouth was slightly agape with puffs of breaths coming out as he was in deep sleep. You opened the long curtains, letting the sunshine enter his room before walking over to the side of his bed, placing the two fruits on his bedside table so he could fuel himself as he’s getting ready; you gently tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Your Highness, It’s time to wake up,” you softly said. With no response, you shook his shoulder a bit harder to get him out of his deep slumber. “Your Highness, it’s past seven.” 

The Prince groaned, eyes still closed as he began to writhe around the bed. You took a step back from the bed, waiting for him to wake up fully before greeting him. He buried his face into the pillow, refusing to budge, as an exhausted muffled groan came out of his mouth. 

Once his eyes were fully open and he was aware of his surroundings and consciousness, he turned his head towards you, giving you a look as if to momentarily remember who you were; you gave him a smile to start off his day. 

“Good Morning—agh!” You let out an unexpected squeal, cut off by the Prince’s large arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you down onto the bed with him. His lips immediately attacked your neck and face, peppering your skin with his affection. You laughed softly, trying to keep your voice down in case anyone heard you, but you couldn’t help it because it tickled. “Your Highness!” You pushed his body away from yours, and you knew he only pulled back because of the name you had called him. 

He pouted, looking at you with puppy eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that, Princess,” he joked slightly. 

You raised your brows, mouth slightly open as you playfully patted his chest. “And I told you to stop calling me that, Harry.” 

“Then I’ll stop calling you that once you stop calling me ‘Your Highness,’” he said in a mocking tone before he raised his brows to see what you were going to respond with because he knew that you loved being called ‘Princess’ even if you were far from actually becoming one. You two would have these playful arguments on which nicknames to call one another, and ‘Princess’ and ‘Your Highness’ were both a bit of an inside joke now. 

You simply just rolled your eyes. “Not fit to be a Princess.” Harry’s arms wrapped tighter around your waist as both of your heads rested against the same pillow. You loved mornings like these, and although it was unusual to be sleeping in different rooms, it had to happen under certain circumstances. 

“You definitely are fit enough to be a Princess because you’ll be mine…soon…one day,” he lightened up the air, pressing a kiss to your cheek and forehead. “Perfect for me, I swear.” You smiled admiringly at the Prince, feeling incredibly grateful for him and his presence. 

For five years, your love for him had only increased when you thought that your heart couldn’t get any bigger. But Harry somehow made it happen; he filled your beating organ with so much love and devotion, making you feel so overwhelmed with happiness that you felt like you could burst any minute. You’ve known Harry since you were a little girl, but you didn’t play with him much since you had to stay close to Josiah. But when you did, you two would always go riding together; it was an innocent and pure friendship, and even when you were younger, you would find yourself missing your friend, who just so happened to be the Prince of the country. 

Five-year-old Y/N simply understood that he was a Prince, but you understood it just like the Disney movies. So, you and seven-year-old Harry would play Prince and Princess for fun. Every morning you would tell Josiah to dress you up in a pretty dress because your “Prince was waiting on the West Wing,” as you said. 

As the years went by and you two played less of Prince and Princess, but you and Harry were still inseparable. He was your best friend—still is, and you couldn’t be more happy that you two had never drifted off into the fog that vanishes every afternoon. 

With how close you were to Prince Harry, you realized you had feelings for him when you were thirteen, and it wasn’t until you were twenty when you two got together. Harry had told you that he’s liked you since he was seven, and fifteen years later, he finally had the balls to tell you. Typically for some, it wouldn’t be the most ideal relationship since your blood didn’t bleed royalty, but you’d rather have him in private rather than displaying your relationship to the entire world, especially his family. 

The bubble that was his room, was your hideout. The sanctuary where you felt most comfortable because it was where he slept in, as his scent roamed around the room, making it feel like home. You loved how you immediately felt safe and calm when you opened his bedroom room door, especially when you saw him peacefully sleeping; it was your favorite thing to do. 

Harry didn’t mind, either. He knew how brutal his family could be if they ever found out about your relationship with him, and no matter how much he wanted to shout his love for you from the top of his lungs to the world, they truly didn’t need that because the only people who were the most important in this relationship were you and Harry. As long as the two of you knew that you were in love with one another, that’s all that mattered. 

He was there for you for most of your life, and with a clueless mind, you didn’t know where you would be without him when your father had died. Since Josiah was working for the Royal Family with your occasional help, you had thought the Queen and King were going to kick you out because you had no place or purpose staying in the Royal House. But luckily, Harry quickly proposed the idea of you being his personal bodyguard. Someone who just followed him around while making him seem less lonely because the other men that were his guards before rarely said a word to him when he was out. 

The Dutch and Duchess, and especially the Queen, were a bit skeptical, but let him have his way to avoid any sort of resentment in the future. You were ecstatic and thanked him profusely for letting you stay at the Royal House, but he brushed it off, telling you that he would’ve asked a million times more until they said yes.

 So, for two years now, you’d been Harry’s personal bodyguard, and you thought it was the easiest job. One, because even if you weren’t his bodyguard, you’d protect him with your life, putting yourself in front of him when chaos would come his way. Two, he made the job seem fun and it didn’t even seem like a job because you two laughed and messed around from time to time, not actually doing work. And three, who doesn’t love working with their partner?

“Is that a promise?” You tested him, seeing if he was willing to promise you that he was going to marry you. It didn’t seem possible if you were honest. Either he would have to run away from home or you two wouldn’t get married at all, and just stay together, which you wouldn’t mind either. 

“That’s definitely a promise. You know me—don’t say shit just to say it,” he said, a smug smile on his face. 

“Okay, well. Whenever that day comes, I’ll be waiting to become Mrs. Styles.” 

“Princess Styles,” he corrected, and you breathed out a chuckle, shaking your head a tad bit as you surrendered your argument on him calling you that. 

You snuggled closer to him, enjoying his presence and warmth; and for a moment, you had forgotten yours and Harry’s responsibilities for the day; you just enjoyed this small and quiet moment you two had together that only usually happened in the mornings. But you cherished them nonetheless. 

Nearly drifting off to sleep, you jolted to stay awake. You looked at Harry to see him looking at you with a small but fond smile on his face, eyes gleaming ever so brightly as the sun gently cast its light through his window from above his bed. 

You gave him a quick kiss to his lips and nose before getting out of his hold, earning a groan from him. You stood beside the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles that creased on your clothing. 

“C’mon, we have so much to do today! Plus, we’ve already exceeded morning bedtime hours.” You grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the edge of the bed. He sighed, resisting as he pulled back. 

“Don’t wanna do anything today. Just wanna lay in bed all day with my Princess.” His words came out muffled as he spoke into the pillow. Your cheeks heated up as you held his arm; you wished that you’d get the chance to spend the entire day with him, doing nothing instead of keeping a distance from him throughout the day. But alas, being with him for most of the day was still what you considered a wonderful day. 

“Let’s go,” you softly insisted. You kneeled down onto the floor beside him, pecking his face all over. The left side of his face was smashed against the mattress, but you could see the smile forming onto his face as you kissed his cheeks. “Get up, dreamy.” You used your nickname on him, and you realized that was a bad idea since you were trying to get him out of bed. 

Harry suddenly perked up, smirking before he turned around to lay on his back. He pulled your arm, hauling you to lay on top of him; you giggled once you landed on him, and he connected his lips with yours, kissing you passionately and sensually. Your legs were straddling him, and you unconsciously ground against his sleep pants, feeling his bulge grow harder and bigger. Harry softly moaned into your mouth, slightly bucking his hips upward towards your center. 

You pulled away, about to tell him that you couldn’t do this right now, but once you saw his flushed face and swollen pink lips, not to mention his aching hard-on that was rubbing against your thigh, you decided against it. 

And Harry knew you all too well to know that you were going to say something but held back. So, instead, he grimaced and wrapped his arms around your waist before trailing them down to your ass, giving it a squeeze over your pants. 

“Think we got time for this?” He raised his brows teasingly at you, and you bit your lip. 

Grinding your hips against him was your way of giving him your answer, your mouth met his ear as you whispered, “All the time in the world for you to fuck me.” You nibbled on his earlobe before moving your lips down to the spot under his ear, resulting in a moan slipping out of his mouth. 

He flipped you two over, now his turn to hover over you. The Prince gave you a certain look that you knew all too well; it was a look of certainty like he had all the time in the world to have his way with you, and he definitely wasn’t going to shy away from it. 

“Wanna feel me? Think you could handle me?” He challenged teasingly. His voice was low, raspy, and deep—much deeper now since it was morning and he’d just woken up. But the way he spoke sent a shiver down your neck, making you jerk, causing a mess in your panties. 

“Know I could handle you. I’ve been handling you for years now,” you smirked. A flushed tint rose onto Harry’s cheeks; he always seemed to feel himself get giddy over the fact that you two had been together for years, and hearing it come out of your mouth made it much better. 

“Let’s see about that.” He began to kiss down your neck and body as you relaxed into the pillow, completely enjoying his lips and body on you. 

And just like all the other days, it was going to be a long morning. But the early birds get the worm, right? 

Harry headed towards the dining room where his family was eating breakfast. They all looked up at him suspiciously, like they knew about his morning escapade with his Princess, and he was nearly gutted because they had gotten caught, but they simply just looked at him and continued eating. 

“Morning everyone,” he relaxed, clearing his throat as he took his seat, unbuttoning his black suit jacket; a light pink button-down shirt clad on his tattooed torso. The servers that had been serving them for decades, Mariah and Deborah, poured him a tall glass of water and set down his mug of coffee. He thanked them, and they gave him a smile, always surprised to receive a ‘thank you’ in the Royal House. But Harry wasn’t snobby or arrogant, he had manners and was polite. 

“A bit late to breakfast, Harry, and you didn’t show for morning tea,” the Queen herself had pointed out. Elaine hadn’t even made eye contact with him, she just continued eating as she sat at the head of the table. 

Harry froze for a moment to look at his sister to see if she’ll help, but Gemma just raised her brows, not knowing how to back him up. 

“Sorry, Nan. Couldn’t sleep last night, so I slept in a little bit,” Harry lied. 

“Hmm, and where was that bodyguard of yours to wake you up? Isn’t she supposed to wake you?” She wondered, but by her tone, it was like she knew already; and Harry really hoped that wasn’t the case. 

“Uh, yeah. She did, actually, and I told her to give me a moment. Guess that turned into forty-five…” he curled his lips in, containing the smirk that was begging to show through. His cheeks formed a tint, and he quickly grabbed his glass of water to cool down and to cover his flustered face. 

The two of you had stayed in bed longer than anticipated, and when it was only supposed to be a quickie, Harry took his time with you the first round but decided to go two more rounds, fucking you hard until your teeth were biting the sheets and screaming into the pillow. You had to cover all of the marks that littered his neck, but the others that only you were able to see were casually resting under his clothes. 

Harry shifted in his seat, remembering how your eyes looked up at him as you kissed down his body to wrap your lips around his cock. His mind was spiraling, immediately thinking filthy things your mouth and body could do to him; that was until Gemma had kicked his foot under the table that got him out of his head. 

He looked at her, flicked his head at her, a way to ask ‘what was that for?’ She tilted her head towards the Queen as Elaine was still talking to Harry. 

“Okay, just wanted to make sure she’s doing something right. If not, you let me know, and we’ll have her removed from the House,” she advised quite sternly. 

“There’s no need for that, Nan. There hasn’t been a problem for the last two years she’s been my guard, so there certainly won’t be,” Harry explained quickly. He didn’t know if his eagerness sold his disagreement, or if it helped his case with his secret relationship with you. But he didn’t want you to leave his side, let alone, leave the House. He wanted you here, and if having you in private was the only way, where you two had to sneak around and kiss behind closed doors, then he didn’t mind that.

Elaine nodded, letting go of the subject before talking to the Dutch, Harry’s father, about some of the duties that needed to be completed today. Harry let out a sigh of relief once the Queen’s attention wasn’t on him anymore. He ate his breakfast in silence, thankful that the conversation he had with his grandmother didn’t go any further than a bit of scolding; he would say it was going to be a good day if they went a morning without Harry marching off early from breakfast. 

Breakfast went on quickly after that, thankfully. Mariah and Deborah began to clean the table before setting up a few cups of coffee for his mother, father, and the Queen. Harry and Gemma excused themselves, saying they had a few things to do for the day before they quickly walked out of the kitchen. 

The siblings rounded the corner and walked until they were far enough before Gemma spoke, not wanting their family to hear their conversation from the echo because of how large their home was. 

“You really need to be careful, H—the both of you, I mean it. Staying in with Y/N can’t happen consistently—I feel like she’s starting to get suspicious. ” Gemma started. She had a concerned expression as the part in between her brows creased. 

Harry sighed, nodding his head. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. We’ll try to be more careful. It’s just hard, y’know.” 

“I understand. I get it, I really do,” Gemma sighed before chuckling as if a realization had popped into her head. “Hell, I’m doing the same thing, but I’m just better at hiding it,” she chuckled.” It was true; Gemma was in a relationship with one of the servers—Sebastian. 

They’d been together for seven years, ever since she was twenty-three. She kept it a secret for three years until she decided to tell Harry, which of course, Harry was ecstatic to hear the news—only because he had just told his sister about his own relationship, which you two had only been together for a year at that time. 

Gemma and Harry were supportive of one another, looking out and covering up for each other because at the end of the day, they were on the same side and in the same situation; neither of them wanted the other to get caught because there would be worse consequences coming from the Queen, and the two tried to avoid those said consequences as much as possible. 

Naturally, Gemma loved you. You’d grown closer to her and seen her as a best friend, someone you could always go to and count on. The appreciation you had for her was vast, and you thanked her almost every day for how grateful you were that she was so supportive in your relationship with Harry. 

“Thanks for kicking me back there, though. Didn’t need another morning where Nan flames my ass,” he scoffed, shaking his head slightly. 

Gemma laughed. “Yeah, don’t know why she’s picking fights with you. She used to love you, wonder what changed,” she wondered, genuinely thinking what the cause may be. 

“Don’t know what it is, but if you know, tell me because I can’t always eat my meals stressed because she’s always onto me.” Gemma giggled. “Anyways, gotta go. I’ll be at the charity event until late afternoon, and I gotta find my girl. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you. I’ll wait for you to eat dinner, so you’re not alone. Have a good day, little brother, be safe.” The Styles siblings hugged, a nice and warm embrace that showed much appreciation and respect they had for the other. 

“You as well, big sister.” 

Harry walked in the opposite direction as Gemma, smiling to himself as his heart felt so full. He was lucky to have a sister that was so encouraging and caring, and he always made sure to give the same love back to her because she needed it. Their parents were always a bit strict on them, but he was sure they had to have gotten that attitude from the Queen—well, at least his father. His mother, Anne, was a sweetheart. For some odd reason, she didn’t show much love to her kids because of Elaine. When they were kids, Nan would always get on Anne’s case about how she shouldn’t show them much affection or treat them like babies because they needed to learn discipline and from their own mistakes. 

Walking over to the East Wing and past the kitchen, Harry headed towards the living area, where some of the staff, including you, were hanging out, waiting for the Royal Family to finish their breakfast. One of his father’s guards immediately stood up, making the rest hastily stand up to greet the Prince. 

“Your Highness…” The staff greeted in sync; the men bowed as the women curtsied as Harry stood in the doorway of the living room. His eyes found yours, watching you curtsy; and on your way up, your head perked up, shyly smirking at him. Harry’s heart flipped as he puckered his lips to the side, containing his smile; you two would always laugh about these kinds of greetings, and sometimes Harry would greet you the same way because after all, were his Princess. He wasn’t one to be formal with greetings, and if it were up to him, he would tell the entire staff to stop greeting him like that, but he didn’t make the rules around here. 

“Goodmorning, everyone,” he greeted back. “Hope everyone has a great day. I should get going, though. Y/N?” He looked at you and slightly raised his brows. You walked across the living room and past him, standing before him before making sure to give him a smile. He bid everyone goodbye before you two walked alongside one another. 

The two of you headed towards the large front door in silence. You occasionally glanced up, but quickly averted your eyes towards the path, and Harry was also looking at you through his peripheral vision, smiling to himself as he saw how many times you glanced up at him. The silver Rolls Royce was waiting for the both of you at the end of the steps with the back door open with his driver, Benjamin, holding the door open. Harry gestured for you to get into the car first like the gentleman that he was. 

“Hi, Benjamin,” you greeted the middle-aged man with a smile. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he responded, tilting his hat down. 

“Thank you, Benjamin,” Harry shook his hand appreciatively. Benjamin had been Harry’s driver for the past ten years. He used to be his father’s driver, but when Harry grew older and was able to go to events and out on his own, they assigned Benjamin to be Harry’s driver. 

“You’re welcome, Prince Harry,” he slightly bowed before closing the door after Harry slipped into the car. 

Benjamin drove to the facility where the charity event was held. The privacy compartment screen between the driver and back seat was up; the fancy car seemed more like a movie theater with so much leg space and a middle console between the seats with a blank privacy screen in front of you. It screamed expensive, and Rolls Royce was the company that helped the Royal Family get from point A to point B as their entire underground garage was filled with these types of vehicles. 

You and Harry had about half an hour to chat and touch one another, so you unclicked your seatbelt, quickly moving towards his seat. He smiled, unclicked his seatbelt before letting you half-sit on his lap, your legs rested on his thighs, and he pulled the seatbelt over the both of you and clicked the metal buckle before pulling the seat belt strap behind him so it wouldn’t get in your way. 

A sigh came out of both of your mouths, enjoying this moment that felt short, but was cherished. You cuddle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder as his arms were tightly wrapped around you. You could feel his heart pounding through his chest, and you enjoyed the sound, knowing it was maintaining a steady heartbeat for you. 

Harry kissed your forehead, lips delicately brushing across your skin, making you flustered. You looked up at him as he smiled down at you, the two of you smiling like idiots before he took his lips in with yours. 

“What’s it like to grow up always being so beautiful?” He suddenly asked, very charmingly, might you add. He couldn’t get enough of you and how stunning you looked every single day; no matter how much you disagreed with him, he always thought you were the most gorgeous person on this Earth.

You smiled, looking, and studying his face. Some strands of his hair had fallen into place against his forehead; you pushed them back, softly kissing his forehead. 

“Could say the same for you. You always have a beautiful heart and a lovely face.” You grazed his jaw with your thumb, his stubble scratching against your finger. 

A breathy chuckle fell from his lips. “Love you, my Princess. Dream girl, I swear.”

“And I love you, Your Highness. Love you like crazy,” you softly giggled, kissing his jaw. “How was breakfast, by the way?” 

“The usual. Gemma said Nan is starting to get suspicious, so we have to be careful, can’t have too many mornings in,” he explained sadly. You slightly pouted, but quickly covered up your sad expression with a neutral face, not wanting to make him feel bad because he had no control over his grandmother. 

“Okay…” you agreed, nodding your head. 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “Know this is hard, but we’ll figure it out, alright?” His hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing your soft skin as he looked deeply into your eyes. His green eyes held an immense amount of care and love, just like his heart, and just being in his view of vision was an honor enough. 

You nodded, blinking back the tears that had quickly formed. “I know we will. Don’t mind having you to myself, though,” you chuckled. The corners of his lips turned up as his dimple popped out. You took your finger and poked his dimple, something you had been doing ever since you were younger. 

“I don’t mind it either, but sometimes the sneaking around sucks, doesn’t it?” His brows slightly furrowed, clear frustration expressed on his face. You took your thumb and smoothed out his stressed and wrinkled forehead, and he immediately relaxed. 

“It does, but if that’s what it takes for me to be with you, then that’s how it’s gonna be.”

Harry deeply sighed, resting his head against your neck. You lifted your head up, so he had more room to perfectly fit against you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Butterflies soared in your stomach once you felt his lips against your neck, pressing soft and gentle kisses to your skin. After all these years, his touch still made you giddy while goosebumps rose on your skin. His kisses didn’t lead to anything more as they simply spoke the words of admiration and gratitude. 

“Hmm, don’t deserve you,” he mumbled against your skin. 

“Yeah, you do. Deserve love and happiness more than anything, and if I’m the one to provide it to you, then that’s all I need in life.” He pulled his head back, coming face-to-face with you now as your words had really meant something. Your hand grazed his cheek, feeling his soft but yet somewhat stubbled skin. 

“I love you so much. Genuinely think my heart is going to explode full with my love for you.” He took your hand that was on his face in his, giving the back of your hand a kiss before placing your palm against his heart. You felt his heart beating fast, hard, and it was all for you. “You have my heart in the palm of your hand.” His actions were literal, and you loved how he always had a way with his words. “Full of love for and from you.” 

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him as your hand was still against his chest. For the rest of the car ride, you two relished in one another’s touch; it felt nice to be with one another outside of the Royal House where you didn’t have to hide behind corners or in secret passageways. 

When the car came to a smooth stop, you quickly unclicked the seat belt and got off of Harry, giving him a peck to his lips before situating yourself in your own seat. Benjamin opened Harry’s door and you let yourself out on your own side, quickly jogging around the car to stand next to Harry. 

A line of Rolls Royces were parked behind the vehicle you were in previously, and five guards, including you, were surrounding Harry as you all walked inside of the banquet room. You were standing in front of Harry, between two guards, while the other two were slightly behind the Prince, making sure he was safely boxed in between you all. 

Quite a few gasps were let out once people saw who had just walked in, and the volume in the room had increased. People were starting to walk towards you all, bowing and curtsying to the Prince as he said his hellos to everyone. Straight ahead, you noticed a woman running towards you, and you knew that wasn’t safe at all, considering this was a children’s charity event and you had the Prince right behind you. 

“Prince Harry-” her arms reached forward and she gained a little air, jumping a tad bit, but you had immediately stopped her, making sure she did no harm to the royalty. 

“Ma’am, please step back,” you stood in front of her like a brick wall, pushing her slightly as she stumbled back a bit. Her face had gone red, stepping aside; Harry softly smiled at her, waving his hand. You turned around briefly to see if Harry was okay, and a small smile appeared on his face, nodding at you to proceed. 

The group of guards walked Harry to one of the tables a group of kids were sat at. Harry told the guards that he was okay and that they could stand back until he was ready to leave. The four guards, including you, separated along the wall behind the Prince. 

You observed the room, noticing that there were a few photographers, clicking away at the charity event, making sure they get Prince Harry in their shot, along with volunteer workers and some parents at the event with their phones out, snapping pictures of him. You watched Harry interact with the children, helping them build legos with an enthusiastic smile on his face; he would high-five them, telling them that they did an amazing job building the ship before taking his phone out and snapping a picture of the wonderful sets the kids had built. 

Your heart warmed at the sight, and you couldn’t help but think about Harry being the father of your children because he would be the best dad; he would treat them so sweetly, spoil them rotten, and support them in letting them be whoever they’d like to be. A sudden warmth hit your face as you curled your lips into your mouth, hiding your smile—you suddenly thought about being pregnant and how Harry would be so gentle with you as he touched and kissed your stomach. 

With your leg shaking as you stood, you were getting jitters as you daydreamed. One of the guards noticed that you couldn’t stand still, so he slightly nudged your shoulder with his, bringing you out of your pleasant daydream. You looked up at Earl, raising your brows before he asked if you were okay. You nodded your head, standing straighter and placing your arms behind your back, interlocking your hands as you continued to watch how Harry’s smile brightened up while playing with the children. 

Harry absolutely loved charity events, not because they gave him good press but because every time he had gone to one, he would forget that there were cameras around him. Being and spending time with the kids had made him so happy, and the children seemed to enjoy their time with him as well, so that’s all that mattered to him. 

The charity event was being hosted by a foundation that helped kids who lacked a certain connection with their youthfulness because their parents didn’t have the money to get their kids toys or bring them to amusement parks. The foundation was a non-profit organization that simply organized donations to be used towards the children. They hosted toy drives every month, picnics every other Saturday, and sometimes Disney trips every six months if they reached their donation goal. 

Harry was all for donating to them, and this foundation was one of the five organizations for children that he was a member of and was very active with them throughout. He was very passionate about helping the children out, and he wanted them to have a nice childhood, helping them outweigh the good from the bad. His natural liking towards kids in general very much helped him easily bond with them. 

After a few hours, making sure every child got his attention, he was ready to leave. He didn’t leave without saying a small speech because it was expected; thanking everyone for donating and supporting this foundation, and he also thanked the kids for playing with him, which he earned many cheers from the young ones. 

Once he got off stage, he made eye contact with you, telling you that he was ready, and you headed towards him, the other guards followed after you. Just like you arrived, the guards boxed Harry in safely as he bid everyone goodbye. Everyone waved as a series of farewells were scattered across the room, sad to see the Prince go. Once you all were outside the venue, Benjamin was waiting by the passenger door. From the three hours Harry had been at the event, news had spread out like wildfire that the Prince was attending the event, so there was a swarm of paparazzi waiting outside the venue. 

The box of guards that were surrounding Harry closed in tighter since you had to get through the crowds. Harry, being the polite prince that he was, said hi to everyone as they reached out to hold his hand. But he rarely let anyone touch him because of an incident he had six months ago when he had reached over to shake someone’s hand, but they had taken advantage of the opportunity and harshly yanked him forward, making him stumble. Being frightened by that, he informed his guards to not let anyone touch him after that. He wasn’t being obnoxious or a typical ‘no one can touch me because I’m the Prince’ kind of guy, it was simply for his safety. You absolutely hated that someone was out to hurt him, and it pained you to see how shaken up he was that day. If the Prince had actually gotten hurt that day, there would be massive consequences for that person, but anyone would risk their lives to feel his touch. 

Once you were close to Benjamin, Harry let you get into the car first, but Benjamin stopped you. With a confused look on your face, you asked if everything was okay while Harry asked if there was something wrong. Benjamin leaned down to whisper in Harry’s ear, and you furrowed your brows, suddenly becoming suspicious as you watched them. Benjamin pulled back and Harry deeply sighed, shaking his head. 

“Y/N is my personal guard, though,” Harry mentioned. 

“Yes, but this was a direct message from the Queen herself. I’m only delivering the message, Your Highness. I don’t want to lose my job if I don’t comply,” Benjamin explains sadly. There was clear stress on his face, saddening him that he has to go against the Prince’s orders, but he couldn’t afford to lose his job when he has a family. And besides, it’s the Queen—everyone follows her orders. 

“Okay. Thank you, Benjamin,” Harry said, and Benjamin bowed. 

Harry turned towards you, leaning down to whisper into your ear just as Benjamin did to him. “Nan said that I have to take one of the other guards to ride back to the House with me. Specifically said, ‘Have the other guard come back with Harry, don’t care who it is.’ She told Benjamin that she wouldn’t be happy if he’d let us ride together. Fuckin’ ridiculous.” Harry pulled back, rolling his eyes. You simply nodded, knowing you couldn’t comfort him in any way since you were still in public, so you moved out of the way and stepped aside. 

Harry gave you a quick smile before turning his head to one of the guards, asking if he could join him. They quickly said yes, and safely got into the car. The rest of the guards waited until the car door was closed before walking towards the cars they arrived in. You slipped into the car, the one you didn’t arrive in, as you watched the one with your Prince inside drive away and towards the Royal House. 

Sighing, you looked out the window and watched the road and houses pass by. The Queen had never really taken a liking to you—never really made the effort to talk to you. You were the closest person to Harry, physically, since you were his bodyguard, but all she had ever done was question your actions when you’d been doing your job correctly, according to the instructions and demands from Prince Harry. 

But the worry and anxieties had increased because Elaine had become more suspicious than she was last year. Had she found out about your relationship with the Prince? You two had been doing well at hiding it besides this morning. And you had been good, denying Harry’s wishes to stay in up until this morning. But every day, it got more difficult hiding your love and affection towards the Prince. The word ‘no’ coming from his beautiful mouth as he would stare at you with those captivating emerald green eyes as he would plead to spend more time with him in his comfortable bed; the word completely vanished from your head. 

You wished the situation was different, but for now, you only hoped that things would get better from here. 

Once the car was parked in front of the large cemented steps that led up to the front door of the Royal House, Harry sighed, thanking Benjamin for driving him as well as Nico for accompanying him on the ride back. They both bowed, saying ‘you’re welcome’ before Harry let himself out and up those steps. Benjamin quickly reminded him that the Queen would like to see him when he arrived home, making Harry dread the conversation. 

He walked slowly towards the front door that was opened by two of the front gate guards. Saying a quick ‘hello’ to them, he walked towards the Queen’s lair, where she always prevailed when she said she needed to have a conversation with someone. 

The hallway leading to the double doors always made Harry anxious, ever since he was a little boy. He hated how dimly lit the hallway always was, and he never understood why she never wanted to put lights in this hallway. Probably to match her heart, Harry thought, but immediately took back the thought because he shouldn’t think that way about his grandmother, better yet, the Queen. 

Taking a deep breath, his shaky hand knocked on the door, hearing ‘Enter’ from the Queen from inside, and Harry opened the door. His grandmother was sitting at her large desk chair that was lined like a gold antique frame and was drinking tea out of her teacup that was passed down from generations. 

“Your Majesty,” Harry bowed, greeting his Nan. She placed her teacup down onto the small plate, placing her hand out to indicate him to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. There were no greetings, not a word out of her when he had entered, and now, she was staring at her grandson with snake eyes, ready to attack. 

Harry gulped, hands fidgeting in his lap as he sat straight up so she didn’t point out any more of the things he was doing wrong. 

“How was the charity event, Harry?” She suddenly asked, breaking her silence. 

“Uh, good. Had a lot of fun with the children.”

“Good, good. Anyways, I should get to the point with this, hmm?” She raised her brows as she asked her question as a genuine one. Harry’s face remained neutral, slightly nodding. “I called you in here because I wanted to tell you a bit of news that I found out earlier this week…” she trailed, taking a deep breath before she revealed her news. “I found out that I’m dying. I have a tumor in my brain, and the doctors have found it too late. They gave me the option to have surgery where they would try to take it out, but that would lead to very risky complications that I can’t afford. So, I told them that I would hold out.” 

Harry was shocked. His mouth was open, eyes wide, and speechless. Not knowing how to process this new information, he couldn’t believe how casual her tone was when she told him, even her face remained calm like she expected this to happen. 

“I, uh…Nan…” 

“I’ve been preparing for this—I’m getting older, so this was bound to happen already. I’m making sure the kingdom and our country are safe, and I’m making sure your parents are ready for the job they are about to accept.” 

Harry nodded, eyes welling up. “H-How much longer do you have?” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “Doctors said six months to a year, but that could change anytime. We just don’t know.” Harry exhaled deeply, looking down at his lap. He felt as if his heart was heavy as he listened to her talk about her disease—how okay she was with dying. Sure, now, he and Nan don’t get along very well, but once upon a time, they were closer than ever. The Queen absolutely loved her grandson and was always so sweet and gentle with him, but things quickly changed when he turned twenty-two. The older you get, the more distant they become, he thinks. He sighed, wishing it wasn’t like that. 

“I do have a wish from you…before I go.” 

“Anything,” he answered immediately, and he had wished he hadn’t answered so soon because the words that came out of her mouth next was his worst nightmare. 

“I would like to see you get married while I’m still alive. I’m arranging a gala this weekend and I’d like you to meet some people, you know, you can take your pick or whatnot,” she said with an emotionless face. He always disliked how much she lacked enthusiasm or emotion, and how she talked about things so casually. 

Elaine picked up her pen, writing out Thank You cards that she was sending to some people in the village. 

“I…what?” 

“Might I need to repeat that again?” She raised her brows annoyingly, hating when she needed to repeat herself. 

“I can’t do that…” 

“And why not?” She asked sternly, her change of voice had surprised Harry as she slapped her pen down onto the wooden desk. 

“Because…” This was it; he could easily out his relationship with you, tell her the truth, and it would be over with, but he didn’t because he knew that you weren’t ready for what was to happen after. Besides, you would have to know if he was going to tell her the truth, so Harry couldn’t go behind your back. “I don’t wanna meet someone at the gala just to get married right away. What happened to falling in love?” He questioned. 

Elaine scoffed, waving her hand. “Falling in love, that’ll happen when? Never? I’m gonna be gone, Harry. You’d rather fall in love in a year’s time rather than fulfill your grandmother’s wish?” Her voice started to increase, echoing, and bouncing off the walls of her office. Harry started to shake his legs anxiously from the volume of her voice and the idea that she proposed, absolutely hating it. 

The Queen had guilt-tripped him into marrying someone; she had used her disease and lifetime time limit so she could get what she wanted. Elaine knew full well he was going to obey her wishes because that’s how Harry was—he didn’t want anyone to feel bad and he certainly didn’t want it to come from him. She would ask Gemma, but she had much thicker skin than her brother, so she would turn the idea down faster than Elaine would be able to get it out. But Harry, on the other hand, was much easier to get to. 

“Harry, I’m only asking for one thing. When have I ever asked you for anything major?” She crossed her arms, resting them down on the desk. “This is my dying wish. Wouldn’t you want your wish to be-”

“Okay,” he interrupted. His voice was soft as he didn’t dare to look her in the eye as he spoke. 

“Great, it’s settled. Make sure to get your fittings done before the weekend. You have to look your best.” Harry didn’t have to look at her to know that she was absolutely beaming, knowing that she got what she wanted and didn't try hiding her excitement. “Please close the door on your way out.” 

Harry stood up slowly as he was in disbelief. Walking out of her office and closing the door, he started to breathe heavily. Tears were in his eyes and his chest felt heavy as his hands started to shake. He picked at his fingers to calm the shakiness down, but it didn’t work. Walking down the hallway, he rushed towards his room, not even checking to see if you had arrived yet, but he couldn’t face you, not yet. He had just agreed to marry someone that wasn’t you, and you were bound to be upset—he would be suspicious if you weren’t. How was he going to break this news to you? Hell, he didn’t even know how to process this himself. 

All he knew was that this was not going to end well. 

Hours later, you were wandering around the house, wondering where your Prince could be. You hadn’t seen him since you left the banquet hall earlier this afternoon; and Benjamin had told you he was to meet with the Queen once he had gotten home, but as the hours went by, you hadn’t heard or seen him. 

Quickly walking over to the West Wing, you headed towards his room because that was the last place you hadn’t checked. You walked by some of the guards and maids, saying a quick ‘hello’ to them as you passed by; it wasn’t odd for any of the staff to see you heading towards the Prince’s room because you had done it many times and Harry had instructed you, in front of the staff, that if you ever needed to see him, you could knock on his door. 

So, that’s what you did; you knocked on his door, waiting for a word from the other side, but you heard no movement whatsoever. You had checked the entire Royal House from top to bottom, but he was nowhere to be found, so he had to be in his room. You took a look around if anyone was near and once you saw the second floor was empty, you slowly opened the bedroom door of the Prince’s room. And what you saw was as if a tornado had hit his room; a mess was what described his room perfectly as objects were thrown all across the floor, the bed was unmade, chairs and sofa were flipped upside down, and the mirror was cracked in half, leaving shards of glasses on the dresser. 

You slowly walked in, afraid that someone other than Harry might be in his room, and had purposefully trashed it. There was light coming from his bathroom, so you walked towards the light, slowing your steps so your shoes wouldn’t squeak against the polished and shiny tiles. 

“Harry?” You softly called out. By now, he would have come out because you were the only one allowed in his room without permission, so you were starting to get worried. 

Once you were close to the restroom, you started to hear sobs echoing the bathroom, filling the room with soft and quiet heartbreaking sounds, making your heart drop because you knew those cries and you knew exactly who they came from. When you were inside the bathroom, you saw Harry sitting against the wall, arms leaning on his knees as his face was resting on his arms as Harry cried and sobbed. 

Seeing the love of your life in pain and in such anguish, it genuinely felt as if your heart was tearing into pieces or if someone had ripped your heart out and stomped on it. The pain that Harry endured was also felt through your heart as well because he was your soulmate, you both felt everything the other felt. 

You kneeled beside him, gently calling out for his name once more so he knew that you were right beside him before you placed your hand on his shoulder. Harry didn’t have to look up to know that it was you—your touch, your voice, and your presence before leaning to the side and into your arms, sobbing into your chest uncontrollably. You quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, comforting him in the best way that you knew how, and that was to simply hold him. 

He liked being held and it made him feel at ease, made his mind shut out the noise. You would simply hold him for the rest of your life if your life depended on it, and if that meant keeping him calm and at peace, then you didn’t mind. 

You ran your hand through the locks of his hair, scratching his scalp and pushing his hair out of his face. You kissed his forehead, giving him many pecks in a way to comfort him. Harry roughly coughed and sniffled; you could feel his heart beating radically, so you smoothed your hand down his back, somewhat rocking him in your arms. You knew he wasn’t a baby, you knew that, but if it worked with crying babies, then it must work with adults too. And besides, who didn’t like to be held while crying? 

To your credit, it had worked; Harry was calming down and his heartbeat wasn’t out of control. He looked up at you through his glassy eyes, sniffling; he looked defeated, and you hated that you weren’t there when he was breaking down because it must have gone on for hours.  There were visible tears that stopped against the crevice of his nose, so you took your hand and wiped his tears away before kissing his nose. 

Harry sat up, sitting against the wall as he was before you came in. Propping his knees up, you moved to sit in front of him, in between his legs, so he could know that you were there for him and that he had your full attention. He grabbed your hands, sadly kissing them but in a way, saying ‘thank you’ for comforting him and making him feel better just by your hold. You rubbed his hands with your thumb, gently caressing his skin as you patiently waited for him to talk to you. 

He took a very deep breath as if it physically pained him to breathe before he spoke, wishing the words that came out of his mouth were a sick joke, but it wasn’t—nothing that came out of the Queen’s mouth was a joke. 

“I spoke with my grandmother earlier…” he began to tell you that she had brain cancer and that she wasn’t going to do anything about it, just live the rest of her life until she couldn’t anymore. Your face saddened as Harry explained, simply just listening to him as he spoke. You placed one of your hands around his neck, playing with the curls that sat on the back of his neck. 

“Bub, I’m so sorry to hear that.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek before giving you a hug. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, taking in your scent and comfort; he felt better for the time being—before he had to tell you the other part. A new set of tears streamed down his face, unable to hide his emotion now. 

Once you pulled away, you softly wiped his face with your hand before he spoke again. “Sadly, that’s not the news that I’m crying over.” 

Raising your brows, you looked at Harry with a surprised expression, wondering what got him so sad to trash his room and breakdown in the corner of the bathroom. 

“Oh…W-What is it?” You hesitated. 

You listened, watching his mouth as he spoke. Every ounce of hope had disappeared from your body as Harry explained the situation that he was in, that you were in. He cried, unable to be coherent as possible as his sobs won over his ability to speak a full and proper sentence. It genuinely felt like you were asleep like this was a dream, more of a nightmare. As if all of the plans and dreams you had patiently waited for was thrown out the window in a world record time of a minute, maybe less. The color from your face had completely drained, leaving you shocked, appalled, and hurt. Every word was just another twist of the knife that went straight to your heart as you wished his words would get better to relieve the strong and harsh ache in your chest, but they didn’t. 

Wake up, please, wake up, you told yourself, but this was reality. It was real.  

Silence had washed over you two after Harry was done explaining the horrible news. The silence was louder than glass shattering, loud and pitchy. Contrasting to the silence outside of your head that laid between you and Harry, the inside of your mind, your world, was similar to the glass, breaking and crumbling into pieces with one hard hit of the enemy.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve said something, anything. But instead, I said yes,” Harry bawled through his words. 

“Are we…over?” You asked nervously. The lack of eye contact you were giving him only pained him, but he knew how difficult it was to say that. He took your face into his hands, tenderly cradling your sad but beautiful face. 

“No,” he immediately disagreed. “I mean, not if you don’t want it to be. I understand why you would, though—didn’t even fight for you. Please, let me fix this. I’ll talk to her, tell her everything. She can’t make me do this, I have a right to my own words and decisions, right?” You stayed silent. Harry understood why you were quiet as you were still taking in this information and how to process that your boyfriend was to be married in the next few months, but he really needed to hear your voice. He needed the reassurance from you because you always seemed to know the right words, but he knew you needed him more. “Princess, please look at me.” His voice was shaky, and you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I’m gonna fix this, okay? Not gonna let her walk all over me again. I love you, and it’s time for her to know that.” 

You nodded briefly, not able to get the right words out. Harry didn’t mind; he took you into his arms, wrapping his strong and tattooed arms around your shaking and frightful body. 

He held you tight as you both sat on the floor of his bathroom, pretending that everything was going to be okay. But in reality, neither of you knew if it really would be. 

The weekend had come by too quickly for Harry’s liking. He didn’t get the chance to have a moment with the Queen because she was busy with handling errands for the gala; from talking to event coordinators, caterers, and floral arrangements, so she hadn’t gotten a moment to sit down unless it was nighttime. Harry practically felt her negligence towards him, always telling him she’d talk to him later, which left Harry feeling defeated because the more she ignored him, the quicker the days had gone by—closer to the gala. 

And to his dislike, it was the morning of the gala, something he had been dreading ever since Elaine had told him she was hosting one. It felt like his world was crumbling; he noticed your demeanor change—how could it not. Things weren’t the same, and they weren’t going to be the same again until he got himself out of the unwanted arranged marriage that the Queen was putting him upon. 

You didn’t mean to act differently around Harry, your boyfriend, or whatever this meant for your relationship, but it was difficult to act like your normal self. You sought comfort from Maria as she told you that this wouldn’t be the last of you two; she had a gut feeling it wouldn’t be. 

You had always imagined getting married to him as you two would excitedly talk about marriage and how life would be when you were husband and wife. But Harry was soon to be meeting his wife, and you had to be in the same room as him, possibly feet away from him when he did so. Your heart ached, dropping to your stomach as you felt sick to your gut every time you thought about it.

You were wearing your usual attire but you added a black corset over your white shirt and a black blazer since the gala was a more formal event. Standing in front of the large bedroom doors, you closed your eyes for a mere second, taking a deep breath before knocking, entering right after. 

Upon your eyes was Harry standing on the block square step in front of the mirror that was placed in the corner of his bedroom. His seamstress sewing the crystals that were loose on his embellished jacket that he paired with white trousers. The gold buttons on the front of his jacket were engraved with his initials, adding a touch of personalization to his attire; along with his white lace gloves, white pearl necklace, and cross pendant. 

He looked absolutely marvelous, rightfully so, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him no matter how heartbroken you were. 

His eyes caught yours in the mirror, widening before turning around to face the seamstress. “Jaylin, I think we’re good, yeah?” He asked, hoping she wouldn’t find any more flaws in his suit. 

“Yes, we are. Have a great time at the gala, Your Highness,” she curtsied, grabbing her supplies before heading out the door. You greeted her on her way out, and you earned a smile from her. 

The click of the door was heard, indicating that it was just the two of you in his room. Usually, you would take advantage of being alone with him, but again, things were different this time around. 

Harry stepped off the step, slowly walking towards you. His eyes never left yours, piercing through you like fire, and you were going to melt. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted softly, looking you up and down. You slightly grinned, looking down at your feet. 

“Hi, Your Highness.” 

He placed two fingers under your chin, lifting your head up. You looked at him with doe eyes, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you even more with just your stare. 

“You look gorgeous,” he complimented. Leaning forward, he was about to place a kiss on your lips, but you felt his hesitancy as he pulled away. He hadn’t felt your touch, your lips in what seemed like years; completely deprived of your touch, but it’d only been a few days. 

“Thank you. You look wonderful as always.” You grabbed the edge of his jacket, tugging on it to straighten out the material before smoothing your hand over his shoulder and down his arms. Harry sucked in a breath; that was the most you’d ever touched him in days, and he was cherishing every second of it because reality had hit him, and this could possibly be the last time you were ever going to touch him. 

You sighed, pulling back as you crossed your arms behind you. Harry could tell that you had a million thoughts racing in your head and you were wary of saying them, but nothing you could say would scare him; he was already faced with his biggest nightmare. 

He walked towards you, taking your hands in his. The softness of your hands juxtaposed to the slight roughness of his that carried multiple heavy rings on his slender fingers. 

“Hey, I’m gonna fix this, alright? I’m telling her tonight, and I promise that I’m gonna be yours forever, no matter what happens,” he reassured, looking ever so deeply into your eyes so you would get the message. His eyes had captured yours, putting you under his spell, so you nodded and believed him. Harry sighed in relief, thankful that you trusted him. “I actually got you something.” He let go of your hands, walking over to his dresser before pulling out a square box from the drawers. 

Harry was always one to give, always the giver and he loved giving without expecting anything in return. Throughout your relationship, he would always buy you random but sentimental things that he saw at the shop simply because it reminded them of you. The thought was incredibly sweet and you loved the fact that even when you weren’t around him, he was still thinking of you. 

He opened the box, revealing a pearl necklace that had a gold anchor in the middle. It was a necklace that you had thought of getting to match the tattoo that was inked next to your right breast. You and Harry had gotten complimentary tattoos the second year of your relationship, and he proudly got a ship tattoo on his left arm as well as an anchor on his wrist to match with you. Harry was your anchor; he kept you upright. He was the backbone of your ship, helping you slow down whenever you needed a break. 

“You were secretly eyeing this when we visited that farmer’s market a few months ago. And since I couldn’t go and get this by myself since you’re always with me, I asked Gemma if she could get it for me. Hope this was the one you were talking about,” he explained shyly as he held the box open for you. 

You were speechless as your heart fluttered. “Harry…” Your fingers delicately grazed the necklace, studying and feeling his gold chain; it was the exact same one you saw at the market. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes, I do—I love it.” You softly smiled up at him. “D-Do you mind putting it on me?” He immediately nodded, taking the necklace out of his case, and you turned around, slowly pulling your hair to the side. 

Harry unclasped the necklace; the small skin on the back of your neck was exposed to him, so he leaned down, placing a small kiss on your skin. The action sent shivers down your spine, but you took the touch that you’d been starved of. He put the necklace on as it sat perfectly against your collarbone; and Harry wrapped his arms around your waist, taking in your delicious scent. You felt extremely warm as if you were standing in the courtyard and the sun was casting its light right down your spine, providing you warmth. You placed your arms on top of his, hugging him to yourself as he rested his face against the crook of your neck, tenderly kissing your skin. 

A deep sigh of relief was released from your lips as you let loose in his hold. His arms were a place you wanted to be in forever; it was a place where you found security and comfort, and the thought of leaving, a chance to never be in his arms, had never once crossed your mind. 

You turned around in his arms, facing him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, mindlessly playing with the small curls that sat so effortlessly on his neck. 

“Thank you for the necklace, I truly love it,” you sincerely said, reaching up to place a small chaste kiss on his lips. Your lips against his had made Harry’s stomach flip, and he couldn’t bear to hide the smile that made you fall so hard for him. 

“You’re welcome, my love.” 

“Do you mind…fixing my corset? It’s a bit loose.” You offered him a smile, and he nodded. You took off your blazer before he reached behind you to untie the knot that you had tried to make look decent. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” You suddenly asked as Harry pulled the strings tighter, making you take a big breath in before he started to tie them smoothly without the need to look if he’s doing it correctly; he’s tied your corset for you so many times already that it was all muscle memory. 

“Yeah, I do know that,” he nodded, looking deeply into your eyes. You had practically felt Harry’s doubts and insecurities of your love deep through because of the news that he broke to you the other day. And you figured you weren’t being a good enough girlfriend to him and failing to remind him that you loved him and it wasn’t his fault for everything that’s happening. “You know I love you as well, yes?” 

You raised your brows at him, nodding. “Mhm. Just wanted to see if you knew.”

He chuckled, finishing up the knot. “Yeah, I know.” 

He placed his hands on your hips, and you leaned to give him a kiss to thank him as well as just to kiss him lovingly, something you two hadn’t done in days. Giving you a smile, he was going to go in for another one, but a knock was heard on the door, making you two pull away quickly. 

That knock on the door only meant that the car was ready and that Harry should be heading to the gala now. That knock only meant that it was time to face his future—the future that was going to fight for, the one that he wanted and not the Queen. 

That knock only indicated that it would be determined if he was to live with or without you, and there’s no way in hell he was living without you. 

Elaine had definitely gone all out with this gala, Harry thought. It was held in a museum that was closed due to the Queen’s personal favors and demands. 

When a guest entered the gala, they were immediately caught with the gold antique lining on every end of the wall; the high crystal chandeliers reflected off the gold and illuminated the room even further, bouncing off the shiny and polished floors. Long champagne color curtains were draped in front of each window with a historical gold statue pushed up against the window. The dome-shaped ceiling was high, painted to tell the story of the Renaissance. When a guest entered the gala, they were welcomed with elegance, grace, and exquisiteness, prepared to have a gold evening that would only end in secret affairs and tragic events. 

You led Harry through the room, many guests greeting him with such poise as they tried to get his very best impression. With suits looking sharp and dresses were extra flowy, they bowed and curtsied as Harry politely said his greetings to them. 

Many of the guests had been mentally and physically prepared to have a proper conversation with Prince Harry, and hopefully get a chance with him on the dance floor, if he allowed it. Everybody wondered what it would be like to walk into the building with Prince Harry on their arm, how they would flaunt and brag about how they arrived with him. 

During galas and balls like these, the guards were instructed to be present, to be aware, so they didn’t need to always be close to the Royal Family. Once you got an approving nod and smile from Harry, you left him be; guests surrounded him, the men were shaking his hand as the women gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was completely soaked up in the attention, everyone praising him for the recent work that he’s done for different foundations and events that he attended recently. He’d been offered too many invites to grab a drink, or to the dance floor later in the evening, or even to their bedroom when everyone was asleep. 

Politely and respectfully, he told all of them that he’d see where the night would take him, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to reject them fully because the only one he wanted to have a drink with was you. The only one he wanted to invite and take on the dance floor, dancing and spinning the night away to classical and soft music was you. The only one he wanted to go to bed with, to make love under the sheets, and wake up in the early hours of the morning to admire how you slept was you. 

The Queen was sitting on her throne, crown sitting perfectly on her head as she watched Harry for over an hour, interacting with her guests. She could practically hear the conversations that the many women whispered to in his ear, inviting him for a night in their presence, but she noticed how uninterested Harry was—the look on his face said it all and how he would politely brush off their question without giving them an answer. She observed how he, quite often, looked over at you, standing against the wall, watching him as well. 

You were nervously watching him, observing the way he acted around the guests, seeing if his demeanor would suddenly change since you weren’t right by his side anymore. It wasn’t as if you were jealous—you were never one to be jealous; it was your own insecurities that made you constantly worry about how Harry could just pack up and find someone else that was much better for him. Everyone always wondered what it would be like to love Prince Harry, and you were the lucky one to know what his love felt like, and you would hold onto that love for as long as you possibly could. 

Elaine had made her rounds and chatted with several people who were eager to talk to her, and they were lucky enough to get a chuckle out of her. It was difficult impressing the Queen, her own family even struggled to get her approval, so it was a rare sight to see Elaine walk up to someone and initiate a conversation. 

But that person wasn’t just ‘anyone,’ they were that person the Queen had specifically picked out to wed her grandson, someone who was worthy of hers and the Prince’s time. Elaine had asked the woman to follow her, which she immediately complied as Elaine walked through the room, nodding her head at everyone who greeted her, for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

Harry was in conversation with one of the Dukes when his grandmother had walked up to him, the first time tonight, with someone, who he had never met before, trailing behind her. 

“Harry,” The Queen made herself known. 

“Your Majesty.” Harry bowed. 

“I would like you to meet Venus. She’s the daughter of one of the board members for the Water and Power Organization,” Elaine introduced the dark-haired girl. 

Venus curtsied. “Your Highness.” She smiled, flashing him her gorgeous smile. Venus was pretty, anyone knew that from just a glance. She wore a champagne silk dress that had crystals embedded on her waist, cinching her figure. She added white silk gloves and diamond earrings to top off the look. 

“Pleasure,” Harry simply said behind a smile, masking his anxious and nervous attitude. He knew this was the moment where the Queen would tell him who Venus was and what he was to do while you were standing in the back watching the entire interaction, holding in your tears as your heart broke a little more. 

“My dear, Harry,” Elaine started. Harry looked at his grandmother weirdly; she hadn’t called him that since he was younger. “Shall you accompany her to the dance floor? Get to know each other, hmm?” She suggested, brows raised. 

Harry was all too polite to reject the poor girl as Venus looked at him with hopeful eyes. He simply cleared his throat and nodded, hesitantly offering her hand to the dance floor. Venus gladly took his hand, and Harry led them under the high crystal chandelier before she put her hand on his shoulder while the other still held his hand. Harry respectfully placed his hand on the small of her back--his actions unsure. Sure, he had danced with many people throughout the years, even while being with you, but this was completely different; this was the woman who he was to be wedded to, and he was sure Venus knew that as well. 

“The Queen is very kind. I thought she disliked a lot of people, so I was shocked when she started up a conversation with me.” Venus made conversation to fill the void of silence between her and the Prince as they swayed to the classical music. 

Harry lightly scoffed to himself. “She’s the Queen, could do anything she wants.” 

“She told me the plan, and I will happily be your wife, Your Highness, an honor really.” Her voice was light and hopeful. Harry knew that she was a kind woman and anyone would jump at the chance to marry into royalty, but he couldn’t deal with this, not right now. Not when you’re standing feet away, containing your pain. Harry pulled away swiftly from Venus’ hold, leaving her confused. “Your Highness?” 

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t do this,” he told her before walking away and leaving her on the dance floor. 

The Queen had watched the entire interaction, anger, and disappointment present on her face as she watched Harry walk away and out of the main ballroom. You were about to follow him out once you saw him frantically walk out, but you noticed the Queen quickly trailing behind him. Holding tightly onto your thumbs to contain the shakiness, you stayed put as your mind had begun to wonder if your boyfriend was okay or not. 

You understood why he seemed upset and stormed off; dancing with someone who wasn’t your partner hurt just the same as watching it right in front of you. All you wanted to do was hide away with him, in each other’s arms forever, but that wasn’t reality. 

Harry’s footsteps clicked against the tiled floor, walking in pure frustration as he tugged on his hair. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, a groan slipped from his mouth. He heard footsteps following behind him, and he already knew who those particular steps belonged to. Turning around to face what seemed like the devil itself, he inhaled deeply, holding his breath. 

“What in God’s name are you doing? You left the poor girl hanging!” Elaine scolded, eyes piercing through him. 

“Nan, I can’t do this. You can’t make me do this.” His eyes and voice pleaded, begged for mercy as he was asking for a favor as her grandson, not the Prince. 

“And why may that be?” She tested. Harry’s mouth opened but quickly closed, refraining himself to say anything. The words were right at the tip of his tongue and he had told you that he would tell her everything, but when it came to the moment, anxiety and nerves got in the way. But it seemed like the Queen knew exactly what he was going to say because she spoke for him, saying, “Is it because of that girl out there who happens to be your personal guard? Y/N, is it?” Her voice had a hint of sarcasm, and that’s when Harry knew. 

She knows, she knows everything. 

“H-How did-” 

“Oh, for god sake, Harry. Do you think I’m naive? Oblivious? It’s painfully obvious--the way you two look at each other, how you walk so closely next to each other, not to mention, the mornings in. You can’t tell me that every time you sleep in, she’s nowhere to be found too? Hmm?” Crossing her arms, she knew she defeated Harry. There was no way around it and no room for lying because she knew everything.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought it was a one time thing, the first time I noticed it--that it wouldn’t last long. But I’ve watched it happen for five years, and now that I’ve had limited time on this Earth, I didn’t want to see it anymore.” She shook her head in disappointment. “So, you will marry Venus,” she instructed sternly. 

“I will not,” Harry bit back, holding his ground. 

“You will do as I say-” 

“Your Majesty!” Harry interrupted, his lip wobbling involuntarily. For a moment, Elaine had seen the seven-year-old Prince as he gave her big puppy eyes, pushing his bottom lip out as he begged. For a moment, she was about to give in to his wishes, disagreeing to be wedded to a woman he had never met before tonight. If it were twenty years ago, she would have, but twenty-seven-year-old Harry didn’t have the same effect on her as he did two decades ago. 

She loved her grandson, she did. As cruel and heartless as it was, her love for him had begun to slowly dissipate ever since he started dating you, making her a bit more harsh with him as it was a complete switch up from how she acted around him when he was younger. 

“You are to be married to Venus next Saturday, and that is final,” she said in an unrelenting tone before she walked away, heading back into the main room without another look back at her heartbroken grandson. 

Harry was left in the empty hallway on the verge of a full breakdown. His knees felt weak, about to give out from holding him up. Luckily, you entered the hallway, quickly walking towards Harry who looked completely stunned. The bottom of your shoes clicked loudly against the quiet hallway. 

You placed your hands on the side of his face, frantically worrying. “Harry, baby? What’s wrong? What happened?” 

He finally exhaled the deep and big breath that he had been holding in since his conversation with the Queen. The absence of your presence had made his breath shudder as he quite frankly couldn’t breathe properly when you weren’t around. 

His legs gave out as he couldn’t properly stand, and without warning, he collapsed, but you had caught him as you quickly placed your arms under his underarms, trying your best to pull him up. But his deadweight had won, bringing you both to the floor. You caught his fall, somehow maneuvering yourself to be placed behind him, so he wouldn’t completely fall on his back. Sitting in between your legs, he turned himself in your hold, burying his head in your neck as he began to sob. Tears soaked your skin as they slid smoothly down to your shirt, dampening the piece of clothing. His hot breath hit your skin as he bawled his eyes out, holding your top tightly between his fist, wrinkling your perfectly ironed white shirt. 

His wails broke your heart, and you had no clue as to what happened prior to getting this reaction out of him, but it must have been something horrible; something the Queen had said to him as you saw her walk into the ballroom just before you walked out. You only assumed it had something to do with the arranged marriage that she mentioned earlier this week. 

“Baby…please, you’re scaring me,” your voice was shaky, anxious as to what the reasoning for his breakdown was. Your fingers threaded through his chestnut curls, comforting him in a way you only knew how to do. 

Harry’s breath stuttered as he sniffled, catching his breath as he calmed down a bit before he spoke. “S-She knows.” Your breath had hitched in your throat, heart dropping to your stomach. The Queen knows everything, constantly replayed over in your mind like a broken record. “She knew from the very start of o-our relationship that’s why she started to become so harsh and short with me.” Your heart broke for Harry as he spoke about his grandmother, and you couldn’t help but think that you were the one that caused the Queen’s unpleasant tone with the Prince. “But I am to still be married to the woman in the ballroom. She scheduled it for next Saturday,” he added as his voice cracked towards the end. 

His words were echoing in your head, and it only added fuel to your terrible nightmare. You thought you had time, time to convince Elaine that your relationship with Harry was serious and that you loved him. But you’re starting to think that Elaine didn’t care if he was happy or in love, that she was doing this completely out of spite. 

“W-What are we gonna do, Y/N?” Harry needed your words—he needed your console, your reassurance that everything was going to be alright. 

But this time, you didn’t have an answer. 

Your footsteps were the only thing that were heard as you walked through the dark and quiet hallway, leading up to the Queen’s office. She had asked one of her guards to tell you that she requested to see you after breakfast, and your thoughts had been running ever since. This had been the first time the Queen would speak a word to you; the other times had been full of her ignoring your greetings as you curtsied politely. 

You asked Harry if she knew if he knew what she was going to say to him, but he just shook his head no. Rightfully so, he’s been in quite a gloomy mood, but he’d been more clingy than ever since this was most likely your last week together. You tried not to think about how Harry was to be married to another woman at the end of the week, and that only led to crying into your pillow until the early hours of the morning; Harry’s been the same, maybe even worse. 

With a shaky hand, you knocked on the door; not too hard but not too soft either. You gulped as you heard Elaine say ‘Enter’ from the other side of the door. Nervously opening the door, you were faced with the Queen sitting in her chair with her hands linked together as she rested them against her desk. 

“Your Majesty.” You curtsied, anxiously looking at her for some sort of approval, but all she did was gesture for you to sit down. 

Once you were sitting rather uncomfortably on the edge of the seat, she stared at you for a moment, looking at you up and down as her glare was rather deadly. You tried not to fidget or anxiously bounce your leg, but her eyes were probing into your soul, and you were afraid of how she may react if you disconnected your eyes from her. 

“I assume you know why you’re here?” She started. You nodded lightly, not saying a word. “I don’t appreciate you and my grandson going behind my back to have this…affair of yours, especially for years. First, did you think nobody would find out? You’re in the Royal House, everyone reports things back to me when they see something suspicious, so don’t think you were all that sneaky. Second, Harry’s a Prince, you’re a…guard.” She said with much emphasis on your title. “Did you think it was going to work out? I mean, he’s a Prince.” She added a bit of a scoff at the end, but her tone was stern. 

“My apologies for going behind your back, Your Majesty.” You hadn’t a clue on what to say to her other than to apologize because there was no reason for lying only to make the situation worse. 

“Hmm. You see, Prince Harry is to be married in four days. That means you are no longer in relations with him, and since you’ve disrespected me and my family, you are no longer needed in the Royal House. You are to be packed by Saturday, and you’ll never go close to my family ever again—more importantly, the Prince. Understood?” She instructed unsympathetically. 

Your breath was stuck in your throat, your stomach in knots, and your heart didn’t feel like it was beating anymore. You were absolutely crushed. The thought of not seeing Harry anymore frightened you; you didn’t want to do life without him. You needed him, and unknowing to the Queen, he needed you too. 

“I asked if you understood,” she said, wanting a vocal answer to seal the deal. 

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Yes, I understand, Your Majesty.” 

Elaine leaned back in her chair. “Very well. You may leave now.” 

You got up, making your way out of her office, closing the heavy door before you let out a wracking sob, chest heaving up and down. You quickly made your way to your room, covering your mouth to contain the volume of your cries. The fee staff that you passed by had called out for you, asking what was wrong, but you ignored their calls, heading straight to your room where you locked the door and cried into your pillow, just as you had for the past few days. Your heart broke into a million pieces for yourself and for Harry, and you didn’t know how you would ever recover. 

As you were talking with the Queen. The Duchess had found Harry lingering around Elaine’s office, pacing back and forth as well as pressing his ear up against the door. 

“Harry? What are you doing?” Anne asked worriedly. 

“Mum, please. I need you.” Tears streamed down his face, and Anne’s heart broke as she saw her son so heartbroken. All of the rules Elaine had instructed Anne to do on how to raise her children, like completely stop showing her kids affection, had completely torn in half. And just like that, her child needed her.

Anne quickly took Harry into her arms, and Harry sobbed into her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “There, there, my darling. You’re alright.” She rubbed his back soothingly. “What’s wrong?” 

Harry pulled back. “Uh, Y/N—she's in there with Nan. Mum, she knows everything.” Anne’s eyes widened. “We’ve kept it in for so long, why now?” Harry choked in between his words as his cries had heightened. 

Anne looked at Harry with a defeated face. She’s always known about his relationship with you ever since the beginning. A quite fresh six months into the relationship, Anne had caught you two running around in the courtyard under the moonlight, past curfew hours. Harry suggested sneaking out because that was the only time you two had alone, so you hesitantly said yes without thinking about getting caught. Sure enough, you two did get caught by the Duchess. You relentlessly apologized to his mum, saying you won’t pass curfew hours anymore, but Anne simply just smiled, telling you two to be more careful next time because it could’ve been the Queen who had caught you. 

As Harry’s mother, she understood the importance of wanting him to live his life the way he wanted to. She always encouraged that he could be whoever he wanted to be, and she would always be there to support it. She didn’t want to tell him who to love or who to marry because that decision should be completely up to him. And throughout the years, she’d seen how much love he has for you while that same love was also being reciprocated. That’s all she wanted for him—someone who would love and cherish him. 

“I don’t know what to say, darling. Maybe you could talk to her?” Anne suggested, caressing Harry’s arms. 

“I-I tried before, but she just brushed past me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Frustration was clearly going through Harry’s body as he pulled on his hair, something he does when he’s anxious and frustrated because he was somewhat in control over it. 

“C’mon, let’s go into the living room.” She grabbed his arm, leading him out of the hallway, but he pulled back. 

“But…” 

“She’ll go to you when she needs to. The last thing you need is getting caught lingering around when I’m sure the Queen doesn’t want you two being around one another.” 

Anne was right; a mother does know best. Following her wishes, he nodded, trailing behind his mother and out of the hallway, away from his poor girl who was being confronted by the Queen. 

It was Friday night, and you had just zipped up the last of your luggage. Your room was empty, and it pained your heart that it was your last night at the Royal House, the last time you would ever see Harry. 

You were due to be out of the Royal House by seven a.m and off Royal grounds at nine in the morning; there was a boat scheduled for everyone visiting the grounds to departure at nine, and you would be on your way to God knows where, but far away from the one person who had your heart. 

Harry’s wedding was to be scheduled quite early in the morning, around eight-thirty, or so you’d heard from the staff. The entire staff had no clue of your leave, except a few of the guards that were going to escort you out of the Royal House and to the docks. The Queen had bumped into you in the hallways and specifically instructed you to not tell anyone that you were leaving because she was going to tell them that you resigned if they asked. You simply had no energy to argue, to disagree with her choice, so you nodded, not saying a word. 

You sat on the edge of your bed, completely drained physically and emotionally, and the one thing on your mind was to go to sleep—sleep and Harry, your dearest Harry who you hoped was okay. You got ready for bed mindlessly as a numbness fell throughout your body. You couldn’t feel anything but pain, and the suffering you’d endured for the past week had overwhelmed your mind and body, leaving you dazed. 

Your heart pounded through your ears with every movement as it started to make you feel dizzy, so you laid down on your side, facing the wall while you hugged your pillow tightly while your hand was wrapped around your gold necklace Harry had gifted you. Shutting your eyes, you forced your mind to go to sleep. 

A few moments passed by, and due to your ears ringing, you didn’t hear your bedroom door open and close. But you did feel the edge of your twin bed dip down, making you open your eyes in startelement as the figure behind you engulfed you into their arms, and you immediately relaxed. 

Sighing deeply, a few tears shed from your eyes, feeling relief from the pair of arms around you; you hadn’t felt his arms around you since Tuesday, the day you talked to the Queen. You also hadn’t seen him since Tuesday because after your meeting with Elaine, she had found Harry, telling him to stay away from you. Many arguments had come out of his mouth, but Elaine immediately shut him down after that, sternly telling him that he was to never speak to her that way again. Knowing that Harry would break the rule of not seeing you, Elaine ordered for you to not cross the boundary of the West and East Wing as she knew you wouldn’t break her rules. 

The feeling of being this close to one another after three days was such a relief, and it almost felt wrong because of the Queen’s wishes, but you simply couldn’t care less because you were in the arms of the person you adored. 

Turning around to face him, you were immediately greeted with a loving ‘I missed you so damn much’ kiss. His lips glided over yours smoothly, but rushed, desperate to feel your touch as his arms never loosened around your frame, needing your body close. 

“Hi, Princess,” he said breathlessly once he pulled away. 

You kissed the tip of his nose, making him blush. “Your Highness, how are you?” You asked concerningly. 

“Was doing horrible without you, but right now, I’m just happy to see you, happy to be in your bed.” You softly smiled, pecking his lips. 

You were also happy to have him in your bed. He’d only snuck out of his room to sleep in your bed a handful of times, but he could easily say that it’s the best bed he’s ever slept on because your scent was all over the sheets as well as your body being pressed up against his due to the lack of space you two had. You’d tease him, saying that you were baffled he would rather leave his king-size bed for your small one, but he would charm your pants off and come back with how he liked your small bed better because that meant you would be closer to him the entire night. A charmer, he is. 

A silence fell over you both, simply just looking and taking one another’s presence in. You had both memorized every inch of each other’s face throughout the entirety of your friendship and relationship—every mark, mole, crease, and wrinkle was ingrained into your mind as it was your fear that you would forget how your handsome Prince looked like—but this time, it was different. You two were looking at one another, so neither of you would actually forget what the other looked liked because you wouldn’t be able to see him again. 

You lowered your eyes to your neck, stopping yourself from crying, but it seemed like your tears and emotion for the best of you. A small sniffle came out of you and Harry pouted, bringing you into his chest and holding you tightly. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said against his skin. 

“C’mon…” Harry said with slight annoyance, lightly scoffing as he was in disbelief of what you were saying. 

“I mean it, I’m really gonna miss you.” You pulled your head out of his chest, looking up at him. 

He shook his head as tears formed in his eyes. His heart was breaking more than it already had, and it upset him how much you were letting all of this happen—accepting it, more like. 

“Don’t do this.” He looked deeply into your eyes, brows furrowed; you could tell that he looked frustrated and offended, but you didn’t know what you could do to make your situation better, so you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. 

“There’s nothing else for me to do, Harry. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t want you to resent me for not being close to your grandmother when she’s practically on her deathbed.” He pulled away from you, laying on his back as he looked up at the ceiling fan, hoping if he looked long enough, he would be hypnotized into another life—a life where it involved just the two of you. But he was still in your room and his realities were still coming true. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” you added. 

“Don’t accept the fact that we’re not gonna see each other again!” He whisper-yelled, trying to keep his voice down, still not making eye contact with you. How could he ever resent you? For most of his life, you’d made him the happiest—ever since you two were kids, you would always find a reason to put a smile on his face and get out of bed in the morning. 

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes. This wasn’t how you wanted your last night to go, and you could understand why he was frustrated, but you really didn’t know what he wanted you to do because there wasn’t anything you could do. 

He turned his head towards you, seeing that you were closing your eyes, exhaling through your nose deeply. He turned his whole body to lay on his side, facing you before bringing his hand to your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. You opened your eyes once you felt his cold touch, chills rose onto your skin as you looked at him through your glassy and sad eyes; a look that broke his heart. 

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, my Princess. I’m just…angry and sad.” He lowered his eyes, feeling subdued. 

“It’s okay, I understand. I just don’t know what to do to make this situation any better, but we have to accept that this is our ending. And it may not be ‘happily ever after’ for the two of us, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you.” He nodded as he took in your words. 

“Just…hold me, yeah? Until you have to l-leave.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, finding it rather difficult to accept the fact that you won’t be on the same grounds as him anymore. 

You nodded, closing the inch of space, and wrapping your arms around him. As your face was pressed against his chest, Harry’s chin rested on the top of your head as you two held one another. It was a surreal but heartbreaking moment, but the two of you cherished the last several hours you had with one another. 

You lifted your head up, only to be met with his chin, and you pressed a kiss along with the sharpness of his stubble jaw; Harry sighed in relief. You hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer than he already was, and trailed your lips to his neck, sucking and licking his soft skin. Harry groaned, involuntarily bucking his hips into yours as the feel of your lips had that much of an effect on him. 

Shifting upwards so you were face-to-face, you looked in his eyes momentarily, taken back by his beauty. He was so immensely beautiful that he quite literally took your breath away. He almost didn’t seem real, so tangible, but he was definitely a sight. You’ve had a crush on him for more than a decade, and not once had it minimized into something frivolous or vanished; you hadn’t doubted your love for him and you never would. You were always going to have a crush on the Prince until the day you took your last breath when you would think about giving him one last kiss goodbye. 

Connecting your lips together, you felt like you were home. The peace his lips provided made you melt with every kiss, every single time his tongue glided over yours, or when he bit your bottom lip and pulled back a bit—just being connected to Harry physically and emotionally made you feel secure, and you couldn’t ask for anything more in life because you would be too greedy. 

In the midst of moving your lips in sync with his, he traced his tongue against your bottom lip, making you open your mouth, a moan leaving your lips. His tongue met yours, swirling and tasting one another as the grip you had on one another had stiffened, pulling each other closer. With your hips slightly grinding against his, the breathy moans that left his mouth, and Harry’s lips perfectly and gracefully kissing yours, the electrifying feeling was more powerful than ever. The spark ran down your back, making you want more as chills ran down the course of your body. You would always want more when it came to Harry; he had that appeal where he would leave everyone wanting for more, but luckily, you were the only one he would be giving it to. 

You pulled away, completely breathless by his soft and pink lips before you whispered, “Want you, please.” Your eyes were pleading with him to do anything to your body as you just wanted to feel his touch, his body against yours. 

“Sure?” He asked as he always did before you two ever had sex, and you appreciated the thought because it really showed how true of a gentleman that he was before he fucked you relentlessly into the mattress. 

“Mhm. Give it to me…one last time,” you sighed, curling your lips into your mouth as your fingers pushed away the curl that fell onto his forehead. 

He shook his head softly, disapproving of your choice of words. “Okay,” he responded, brushing off your statement as he gave you another kiss, unable to get enough of your sweet, cherry-flavored lips. 

Soft kisses were pressed against your cheek, trailing down your neck as he gave you a love bite; you threw your head back into the pillow, allowing him more access to your neck. His hands found the hem of your baby pink silk nightgown, bunching the soft fabric up to your waist as he held your thigh up to his waist, softly grinding his pelvis into yours. 

You sat up and raised your arms straight up before Harry took the chance to peel your nightgown off of your body and on the floor. You laid back down, completely naked, besides the necklace that rested perfectly on your skin, as his eyes bored into you, admiring your figure and being quite mesmerized by you as he always was. Your room was dark besides the soft glow of the moonlight that peeked through the window and casted down at your body, giving Harry a clear and beautiful vision of you. 

“So beautiful, my love. Take my breath away every single time I look at you,” he said softly. You shyly smiled under his state, finding it quite intimidating for a moment. 

Harry raised his arms and reached behind his head to take off his shirt, showcasing his tattoos that you’ve traced, counted, and kissed plenty of times throughout the years. His inked skin was something you loved most about him because despite being Royal blood, he still wanted to be himself—not someone people assumed he was as if they’d figured out his entire life and personality. Just Harry.

He was outright the most stunning man you’d ever laid your eyes on. You were sure there would be no one like him because there was only one Harry that you loved, only one person that you loved. 

You reached your hands out for him, and Harry slowly placed his weight on you. His lips sucked and licked the swell of your breasts and nipples, giving each the same amount of attention. You grabbed his face, bringing it up to your lips as you missed them. 

He molded his lips with yours for a few moments, enjoying your touch before you briskly flipped the two of you over so you were on top now. 

Harry smirked, hands immediately finding their way to your waist. “My girl wants to be on top, hmm?” You nodded as you began to take his striped pajama pants off; his cock was hard, sitting against his lower abdomen. You leaned down, licking one long stripe from the base to the tip, earning a raspy moan from your Prince before kissing up his body, making sure to leave a few love bites so he had something to remember you by in the morning on his wedding day. Call it petty if his new wife would see them tomorrow on their night as newlyweds, but rightfully so, he was yours and you had his heart first. 

You reached his neck, littering his skin as you sucked and licked. “Wanna feel you deep. Can you sit up, please?” 

“Always so polite. Of course, I can.” He sat up against the headboard, and you pressed your body against his as his cock laid perfectly between your folds. You could practically feel your arousal dripping onto his hard-on, so you slowly started to grind against his hard length as you feverishly kissed him. 

A throaty moan came out of both of you as your hands desperately held onto one another, grabbing whatever you both can to really feel each other. 

“Please,” he whimpered. “Need to feel you.” 

“Look who’s being so polite now, huh,” you teased, and Harry giggled. He loved being able to giggle and tease one another during the intimate times you two had together; it made things fun and less serious as you two were able to be yourselves around each other. 

You sat on your knees to raise your hips before you licked your hand and grabbed a hold of his cock, giving him a few pumps before you lined him up with your entrance. Slowly sinking down on him, your walls hugged him tightly as he graciously filled you up. After five years, he still filled your walls and stretched you out as his thick and long size was something you still had to adjust to. A soft moan left both of your lips once you were fully on him, keeping yourself there for a moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Could stay like this for as long as possible,” he breathed out. 

You softly smiled. “Give me a moment. Always gonna need to adjust to you, just so big.” You praised him for endeavors, knowing he liked being praised; and he smirked. 

“All for you,” he breathed out, making you smile. 

After a minute or two, you started to move up and down on him, raising your hips until only his tip was inside of you before sinking back down, taking him in fully. He always hit that special spot in this position; with just one thrust, it had you moaning his name out like there was no tomorrow. 

You squeezed around him, making him throw his head back onto the headboard as he started to guide your hips that were working on grinding and bouncing onto him. Your movements began to pick up, finding a rhythm as you swiveled and grinded on his cock, feeling on edge already. 

His mouth attacked your tits as his hands squeezed and slapped your ass, leaving a red mark onto your skin, but you loved it, you always did. You wrapped your arms around your neck, hugging his face to your chest as he hugged your waist, keeping you close while kissing the valley of your breasts. 

His hands gripped your hips, pushing you down so you would stop your movements. You looked down in confusion as big doe eyes looked up at you. Pushing his hair back and scratching his scalp, you gave him a small smile, kissing his lips fully. 

“W-What’s wrong?” You asked once you pulled back from his lips, your voice soft and tender. 

“Just…wanna make this last longer.” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Okay.” You didn’t continue your movements after that, just simply staying seated on him, keeping him warm as he was tucked in away with your softness and warmth of your velvety walls. 

“I’ll love you forever, y’know that, right? Not gonna love another soul again,” he confessed sadly. 

“I know that, and I love you more than life itself. But baby, you’re getting married—spending the rest of your life with someone. You’ve ought to love her someday.” As hard as it was for you to tell him that he could love someone else, you knew that it was inevitable for him to catch feelings, especially for his new wife. 

He shook his head in disagreement. “No, no. I can’t do that, even if you’re telling me to love someone else, I physically and emotionally cannot open up my heart to someone who isn’t you.” His eyes were glassy; the moonlight still made his gorgeous green eyes sparkle. 

“I know, I know.” You lovingly placed a kiss onto his forehead, lingering your lips onto his skin for a moment as his fingers trailed down your spine. “Just know that I’m gonna love you forever, too.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, smiling slightly; you nodded. “Please do. Need your love,” he sniffled, a tear slowly streaming down the side of his face. 

You wiped it away, leaning down to kiss his nose and lips. “Need your love too. Can you feel mine? Can you feel my love?” You asked as you began to start moving your hips. 

A throaty moan left Harry’s lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I can feel it all over. Feel it everywhere—never want to not feel it.” He gripped your hips hard, squeezing the flesh as you whimpered. 

Slowly bouncing on him, you started to revive your orgasm as you started to whine and mewl, desperate to get there. Your thighs were shaking and burning from being on top and grinding on him for so long, and Harry started to see that as your movements slowed down and you had to take a few breaks. 

“Tired?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Okay, I got you, baby. Let me love you.” He shifted down so he was on his back and your body was pressed up against his. “Let me take care of you.” You nodded softly, burying your face into his neck, hiding away from him as you whispered from the movement. 

Harry planted his feet on the bed, bucking his hips and fucking up into you; it wasn’t fast, no, it was slow but his thrusts were hard. He was so deep that you felt the electrifying shock run down to your toes, making you curl them in. Hot breath hit his skin as you moaned out his name before he felt your lips continuously kissing, sucking, and licking his neck. 

“My Princess. My dream girl. Gonna love you forever. Gonna miss you, gonna miss this.” His voice cracked, hugging you tightly to his chest as he continued to thrust up into you. “Please, let me feel you,” he pleaded for your release. 

His cock was hitting your special spot as you were very close. After a few more thrusts, a few more moans, and a few more words that effortlessly slipped out of Harry’s mouth as he encouraged you to find your pleasure, you let go. Your beautiful sounds were muffled from the pillow and the way you buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were quite overwhelmed as you began to sob, a quarter of your distress was because of how powerful your orgasm was, but most of it was because of how empty you would feel when you had left the Royal Grounds tomorrow morning, and how you wouldn’t see Harry anymore. 

Harry continued to fuck you, riding your high out before he spilled into you, loud and raspy moans slipped filled your ear as he moaned your name and how much he loved you. 

Once he calmed down, the room was in absolute silence beside the sounds of the gut-wrenching sobs that came from you. You were incredibly sensitive and emotional as you held onto him tight, Harry still inside of you. His heart was breaking as he started to quietly cry with you, which caught your attention, so you lifted your head up to face him. Witnessing Harry crying wasn’t your favorite sight to see; it pained you to see him so upset, and you wanted to take his pain away and keep it to yourself so he would be happy. 

“No matter what…” you started, stroking his cheek tenderly. “I’m gonna love you. And even though I’m not going to be physically next to you, you’re still gonna have my heart and you’ll feel how much I love you. Just…remember that, please?” 

Harry nodded. “And you’ll have my heart,” he reciprocated. 

“Mhm, and I’ll guard your heart for the rest of my life.” 

He pecked your lips sweetly. “I know you know this, but you’re my ship. You’re the thing that brings me home safely and securely while I lay out in the sun for hours and be completely content and happy with life. And no matter what storm you, or we, encounter, you’re always able to guide us to a brighter part of the Earth. And for that, I will love you forever. Got you inked on my skin permanently and I will cherish the memories and the love you have given me for the past twenty years.” 

His proclamations had you in tears, sniffling throughout his words. You knew how difficult it was for him to say those words because it meant that he was accepting his reality. 

You captured his lips in with yours, sobbing and shaking against them as you cried, holding onto one another for dear life as you two only existed in each other’s arms—forgetting about the outside world. Your heart had sunk so far into your stomach, making your insides feel like they were in knots. Harry had been your safety net for so long, your source of happiness and love. But now, he was going to be added to the list of people that you had lost; the first two being your parents. 

The three most important people in your life had sailed a ship far away from you and you weren’t able to see them anymore. Maybe in another lifetime, but right now, you needed them.

It was quite ironic how Harry thought you were his ship, something that kept him afloat and content when all you felt was the numbness, the pain, and the sinking of your heart, making the depth of the ocean feel so inviting. 

A shake on his shoulder had woken an exhausted Harry up. Inhaling deeply before letting out a groan, he opened his eyes to be met with the day ahead of him. If it were any other day, he would be met with his love, looking at him so lovingly and sweetly as you would beg him to get out of bed, but he would pull you to get in the covers with him before spending half an hour of making giggly and sweet love in the morning. 

But today wasn’t any other ordinary day…it was his wedding day, and the person waking him was Anne, sadly smiling down at him as she wore a rather beautiful lilac gown. He looked at her confusingly before taking a look around the room; he was in your room and that’s when he recalled the night prior. You two fell asleep holding onto one another, whispering lovely words into one each other’s ear, pretending that the next wasn’t happening so you two could be Y/N and Harry. 

“Morning, darling. I see you’ve made your way in here last night.” 

Harry sat up, looking down at his body; he was fully clothed, and he smiled to himself at how thoughtful you were to put his clothes back on. But his smile quickly disappeared when he took a clear look around the room. Your belongings were gone and the luggage that was packed wasn’t there anymore. A piece of him felt like it was ripped out of his chest, leaving him to suffer and sleep through the nightmare. 

He sighed deeply, chin meeting his chest. “She’s really gone, Mum.” 

Anne didn’t say anything but nod. She rubbed Harry back comfortingly as she kissed his forehead. She’s never seen her son so heartbroken before; sure, she’s had to distance herself from him, but she was always observant of Harry. She noticed that whenever he walked into every room, he had a smile on his face and that was because he was laughing at something you had said or blew him a kiss that made him flustered. So, Harry being so sad and heartbroken was a new kind of Harry that she will have to encounter because for most of his life, he was always happy, never had a complaint in his life, and that was because he had you. 

“She left you this.” Anne presented a white envelope, which made his eyes widen, but he immediately took it from her hands. The front of the envelope wrote Your Highness with a heart at the end, making his heart flutter. He looked up at his mother and she smiled at him, caressing his face before planting a kiss on his cheek. “Be quick to read that. The Queen is still expecting you to be married today,” she sighed. “You have to be ready soon—the ceremony starts in an hour. Be out of this room before anyone else catches you.” Anne walked towards the door, and before she walked out, she called out for him, making Harry lift his head up. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.” 

With that being said, she left your empty room, leaving him with the letter in his hands and your scent that swirled around the room, making him miss your presence even more. 

His hands shook as he carefully opened the envelope—you even spritzed some of your perfume that he loves so much as he brought the paper to his nose. Unfolding it, the letter was quite long—the entire page—and Harry could feel himself already getting emotional over it, but he read it anyway. 

My sweetest Harry, 

I am writing this in the early hours of the morning as you’re sleeping peacefully in my bed, hugging my pillow. You look so peaceful when you sleep, did you know that? Besides the occasional snoring, which I don’t mind because you know that I’m a snorer myself, you have this sense of calmness to you when you sleep. It makes me not want to wake you up in the mornings sometimes because you look like you’re at complete peace. But then I miss you too much and want your kisses so eventually, I do wake you up. 

I’m going to miss that, waking you up, and having a morning to ourselves where we get to be us. But I’m also going to miss all the other times we get to spend together. In the car on our way to events, in the courtyard running around like we’re kids, midnight strolls under the moonlight, and sneaky makeout sessions when you would pull me into a random room in the Royal House. 

I’m going to miss every single moment. 

It pains me that I am no longer by your side and we had to part this way. I’ve never felt so heartbroken in my life before, and I thought I wouldn’t ever get to feel this type of agony because I was with you. And we promised to not hurt each other, no matter what. But I’m proud of us because we kept our promise until the very end. We never hurt each other—we always talked it out and never left one another to fight one’s own battles. We were such a great team. The best team. 

You’re everything to me, Harry. My whole entire heart belongs to you, and it will always be yours as long as you hold onto it and keep it safe. Thank you for protecting my heart since we were kids. Thank you for always being there for me in a blink of an eye. You’ve truly helped me get me back on my feet when my father passed, and for that, I don’t know how to thank you enough. I felt like I'd lost the fight when he passed and I didn’t know what I was going to do, but then you reminded me that you were by my side, and for that, we won. 

It has truly been an honor to know you. To be in your presence. But to be in your heart is the greatest gift that I’ve ever received because you love like no other. There will be no other that’ll compete against you. It will always be you. 

My lips will remember the way you love, the way you taste. Your lips are my favorite, and I smile every single time I feel your touch because it’s quite unforgettable. 

You are my heart, my sun, my lover, my best friend, my dream boy, and my forever Prince that I will love for the rest of eternity. 

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me into your heart, Your Highness. 

Yours forever, 

Y/N. 

With his face slightly damped from the tears that streamed down his cheeks while his eyes were swollen and red, he cried into his hands once he finished reading your letter a third time in a row. The feeling in his chest felt like it was physically tearing him apart as it was difficult to catch his breath, gasping for air through his sobs. 

All he wanted to do was to hug you, hold onto you for the rest of his life, and he would be completely satisfied with everything. But you were soon to be on a boat, sailing away from Royal Grounds, further away from him. 

He looked down at the piece of paper, making sure to not wrinkle the last physical piece he had of you. You signed your name off with a heart at the end, admiring your handwriting that he never failed to compliment every time you would handwrite him a note. Bringing the paper to his lips, he kissed your name briefly, exhaling heavy breaths through his nose before pulling away and safely putting it back into the envelope. 

His heart grieved for you two because neither of you deserved this consequential punishment that broke you two apart. 

Standing at the altar in front of hundreds of people wasn’t something Harry imagined his wedding to be like. He pictured his guest list to be quite small, only the people he truly loved and appreciated. It definitely wouldn’t have been in a large venue that held six figures worth of art. And it wouldn’t have been Venus walking down the aisle, meeting him in a white long gown with a veil covering her face. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he felt slightly guilty. Harry knew it wasn’t his fault as to why he’s standing here, but he would have never thought he would ever be standing at the altar without you walking towards him. You two had talked about getting married and the wedding itself so many times that, naturally, it was the norm. Neither of you were scared of getting married to one another, so there was no need to worry about the other running away from the idea or the relationship. 

You always talked about wanting to get married in a garden where there would be bushes of flowers surrounding the area, giving the scene a pop of color. You two agreed on only wanting about fifteen to twenty people, most of the guests would come from Harry’s family and friends, and you would invite some of the staff that you had gotten quite close to throughout your life of living in the Royal House. You would ask Maria to walk you down the aisle as you wore a light champagne dress with hints of gold embedded into the dress; you always told Harry you didn’t want to wear a traditional white wedding dress because you would be too afraid to stain it, especially if you were going to walk on the grass. Harry didn’t mind one bit as long as you were the one walking down the aisle towards him; he would be the happiest man on Earth. 

But now as he watched Venus make her way towards him, this wasn’t the magical night he dreamed of ever since you two got together, and he wished this was a dream so you could wake him up as soon as possible. But you didn’t because it wasn’t a dream, and he realized that when he shook Venus’ father’s hand, giving her daughter away to marry the Prince as she was soon to become a Princess.

Harry and Venus stood in front of each other as she held his hands tightly, feeling that she needed to hold up his hands because he wasn’t holding onto her at all. Venus nervously gulped as she looked at the Prince; he wasn’t making eye contact with her nor the Priest. He was looking down at his shoes and the doors that she had entered as if he was impatiently waiting for someone to burst through those doors as he didn’t listen to a word of what the Priest had said. 

“Harry, do you take thee, Venus, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do you part?” 

The moment was finally here as Harry blinked his tears away, knowing two words were going to change his whole entire life. 

Your heart was beating fast as you struggled to hold onto your belongings with your two arms. You rolled two suitcases that sunk their wheels through every crack of the wooden and old dock as you walked; your duffel bags took every other bump, struggling to remain on your luggage, making you stop once again to place it back in its rightful spot. Towards the side of the dock was a schedule on what time the faerie was arriving for departure, and you had about twenty minutes to spare if there were no delays. 

It was a quite gloomy day—unfortunate that Harry had to have this kind of weather on his wedding day, but maybe that was Mother Nature’s way of expressing her sadness with you. 

You looked at your small gold watch on your left wrist—an accessory your father had given you when you turned eighteen as he told you it was your mother’s and that she used to wear it all the time. The small watch made her feel powerful, independent, and a grown woman who had grown up from the beaded bracelets she used to make when she was younger. It was a piece of your mother that you got to keep with you wherever you went, so you cherished it with your whole heart. 

When it was nearing T-minus 5 minutes, you gathered your bags and headed towards the boat where every passenger crowded around. There were quite a few people and you hoped that the boat ride off the Royal Grounds was a quiet and smooth sailing ride because with the headache you’re enduring from crying and your heartbreak, you needed silence. 

One of the members of the faerie stood on the edge of the boat with a megaphone raised to his lips. “Attention! People who are boarding for the nine o’clock departure heading West of the Royal Grounds. We seem to have noticed a last-minute complication with the engine, which will delay us for about another thirty minutes. We will update you all if we need to switch boats, but for now, hang tight and hang around. Visit the Royal gift shop and get yourself a crown!” He finished his announcement as everyone groaned as you chuckled at everyone’s reaction. You didn’t mind the delay because it meant that you got to stay on the same ground as Harry for a bit longer, even though you weren’t able to see him. 

You headed towards a bench that overlooked the ocean and set your bags close by you as you grabbed an apple from your tote that you snatched from the kitchen on your way out of the Royal House. There were little kids running around with balloons in their hands while their parents tried to chase them, telling them to be careful or they’ll fall off the dock. 

Suddenly, a little boy jogged towards you, nearly startling you. “Hello, are you Y/N?” 

You raised your brows, leaning your arms on your thighs as you wondered how he knew your name. “Why, yes, I am. And who might you be?” You asked in a friendly tone. 

“I’m Russell. This is for you.” He handed you a bouquet of a gorgeous arrangement of daisies. 

“These are lovely, thank you! Did you pick these out yourself?” 

“No, I didn’t. I was told to give them to you. Your husband wanted me to give it to you!” He exclaimed excitedly. 

“Really? And who might my husband be?” You amused him, not thinking seriously about his statement. But he suddenly pointed behind you, making you turn around in suspense. 

There he was, your Prince, smiling down at you as you looked up at him in pure disbelief. He looked dashingly handsome in a silk hot pink blouse and a floral embroidered black suit that suited him very well. You took a moment to observe him, trailing your eyes down to his hands, only to find his left ring finger bare. His face looked too happy to be married to someone who wasn’t you, but his smile looked as if it was relieved as if his worst nightmare had come to an end. He was relaxed, the complete opposite of the trepidation that he held for weeks. 

Your observation was coming to a conclusion, and once you realized what was happening, you matched his smile as you stood up. 

“Your Highness,” you curtsied, making him giggle. 

Before he could explain to you why he was standing in front of you with no security, he turned to the little boy who had helped him. “Russell, thank you for delivering the flowers to my wife.” 

“Your welcome, Prince Harry!” The little boy bowed excitedly before running off to his mother who was waiting and watching on the sidelines. 

Once Russell was safe with his mother, you turned back towards Harry. “Your wife, huh?” You raised your brows, teasing him as you masked your giddiness. You intertwined your hands behind yourself, containing yourself from reaching out and grabbing him. 

“Yeah, my actual wife—someday—not the one that was walking towards me earlier.” 

You smiled softly, still lost on why he’s in front of you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I left. I ran away from the altar. I couldn’t do it, Princess. No matter how mad the Queen would be, I couldn’t marry that woman,” he explained. You exhaled in relief, tears pricking your eyes. “I felt guilty, y’know? Never have I imagined standing at the altar without you. It was…weird and I didn’t like it.” 

“How did you even manage to do that? To run away?” 

Harry slightly chuckled. “Mum helped me.” 

“Really?” Your eyes widened as you were in shock. 

“Yeah,” he answered, explaining to you what happened thirty minutes prior to him racing to the dock to find you. 

When the Priest was reciting the vows, he waited on Harry’s promise to marry Venus. But Harry had turned his head to look at his mum before earning a nod of approval. He turned his head back to Venus, and she had some sort of look of understanding like she knew Harry clearly hadn’t signed up for this wedding—to marry her. Harry gave Venus a small smile that apologized for what he was about to do before turning to the Priest and telling him that he couldn’t do any of what he had said. The guests’ chatter had increased, some softly gasping as they wondered why the Prince wasn’t complying with the marriage. 

He let go of Venus’ hands, heading towards Anne to give her a kiss on the cheek. Anne had sneakily handed him a pair of keys to one of the Rolls Royce cars, and he smiled in appreciation. He glanced at Elaine, not even bothering to say goodbye to his Nan, but Elaine had a few words herself, so she grabbed Harry’s wrists before he walked down the aisle. 

“Walk out those doors, and you wouldn’t even be considered a Prince anymore, you are not allowed back on Royal Grounds if you walk out, and you are no longer going to be part of this family,” she warned, eyes piercing with such disappointment.

He gave Elaine one last look before yanking his arm out of her hold, which earned a loud gasp from the guests. Elaine looked around at the people who had watched the two, and she felt embarrassment heat up in her cheeks. 

Once Harry walked out the doors, he jogged to the front of the Royal House where Gemma had closed the trunk. He took his sister into his arms, hugging her tightly and gratefully. 

“Thank you, Gemma. For everything,” he said, giving her an extra squeeze. She patted his back before pulling away, giving him a smile. 

“I’m proud of you, H. Now, go and get her. I’ve already flagged down the captain and told him to delay the boat for thirty minutes, so you should hurry before the other passengers start to fret. And the boat you two are going on should be ready by the time you’re there.” 

He smiled. “Thank you, again. I’ll see you soon? I’ll call you from wherever I am.” She nodded, telling him to reach out soon. “You take care of yourself, alright? Don’t take shit from her. You and Sebastian deserve to be with each other.” 

“I will. I won’t. And yes, we do,” she answered in the order Harry said, making him chuckle. “Now, go. You’re making her wait.” She patted his back once more before he got into the car. 

With one last wave, he was off to the docks where the love of his life was waiting for him. 

“So, here I am,” Harry said with a smile, arms opening as he presented himself. You smiled widely, giggling. You were still in shock how he simply gave up his family and his position to once rule the country for you. You knew he would do anything for you, but this was more than anything—this was leaving his family for good, walking away from being connected to royalty. And he left it all behind. For you. 

“Here you are,” you breathed out a chuckle. “I can't believe you’re here. That you didn’t marry that woman.” 

“You know I couldn’t do that. You’re the only one I want to marry, the only one I wanna see walk down the aisle, wearing a beautiful champagne gown.” You were slightly taken back, tears glazing your eyes; he remembered the small detail you had told him about not wanting to wear a traditional white dress to your wedding. “So, you’re not the Prince anymore, hmm?” 

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Not gonna leave me to find another Prince, are you?” He joked, raising his brows. You playfully slapped his chest, but he caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips as he placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. 

“Course not. I’ve had a Prince of my own for the past five years.” You unconsciously reached towards him to straighten his jacket. He pulled you forward by the hand that he was already holding, and your chest was pressed together against his with your faces inches away from one another as you looked up at him. 

“Our six-year anniversary is coming up soon. How should we celebrate?” 

“Hmm, now that we have all the time in the world, wanna go on vacation? I’ve been dying to go to Italy,” you suggested, and Harry’s eyes lightened up as if you had suggested the greatest idea ever. 

“I would love that. Where in Italy are you thinking about? Because I’ve been thinking of the Amalfi Coast. Think about it…driving along the coast, cliff diving, swimming in the ocean. Sounds nice, huh?” You nodded your head at his plans. 

“Sounds amazing. Maybe we could…get married there?” You suggested another plan hesitantly, testing the waters to see how he felt about it. 

“You wanna get married? Next month?” You nodded your head. “Are you proposing?” 

“Only if you say yes.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his chin. 

“You know I will.” A tint of pink hit his cheeks as he smiled down at you. 

He leaned down to place a tender kiss on the tip of your nose, and when he pulled back, your eyes sparkled with such love and happiness—a gleam that he’s missed seeing in your eyes, and a gleam he would make sure was always there as long as you two were together. 

“Well, in that case…Your Highness, my love, will you do the honor of becoming my husband in one month?” You asked with a hopeful and playful tone as you couldn’t contain your smile. 

“Of course, my Princess. Wouldn't wanna be by anyone else,” he answered as you softly squealed. 

Harry placed his hands on your jaw, gently bringing your face to his. His forehead rested against you as the tip of your noses touched, giving one another an Eskimo kiss. Your lips merely brushed together so delicately as you smiled once you felt his touch. With one last small touch, Harry kissed you with such passion and devotion as you two moved your lips in sync. The kiss spoke every beautiful and exquisite word in the dictionary that it wouldn’t be enough to describe how tenderly and passionate he kissed you, and how much love your heart held for him. 

 Neither of you cared if there were bystanders, wondering why the Prince was kissing someone in the middle of the Royal Grounds, in public. But there was not one hint of care because you two were together, and this kiss indicated what’s to come for the rest of your lifetime. 

He pulled away, and you were so caught up in the sensation and the feeling that you didn’t realize that he had stopped kissing you. When you opened your eyes, you were met by your favorite green eyes that stared at you with a big smile on his face, dimple indenting his face. 

“I love you so much, Princess, you have no idea.” His words were slow, hoping to engrave them into your mind so you wouldn’t forget it. 

“And I love you, too, Your Highness.” He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, too quick for your liking. 

“Now, c’mon, we have a ship to catch.” Harry grabbed one of your bags as he held one of the duffle bags on his shoulder. He informed you that you two were going to take the family ship and that his belongings were already loaded on the ship. 

You nodded, grabbing the other luggage and duffle bag. You turned around, taking a look back at the Royal House that peeked behind many buildings and trees. This was the end of the story, and it was time to start a new one. You were able to close the book and set it down while you reflect on the memories you had made in one house with the one person who had your heart. 

Sure, you don’t know where you and Harry would be settling down; maybe you two would constantly move around and travel the world since neither of you got the chance to do so, but whatever the universe had in store for you both, you were glad to do it with Harry by your side. 

“Hey, are you coming with or what?” Harry called out, making you turn around. A smile that was brighter than the sun was plastered on his face as his arm reached out in front of him, palm facing up, telling you that it was time to leave. That it was time to start a new life together. 

You smiled, walking towards him as your eyes were glossy. Taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his, he held your hand tight as you two crossed the ramp that was securely resting on the edge of the dock and the edge of the boat. 

You leaned against the railing of the boat, looking out at the deep ocean that you once felt like you were drowning in. But once Harry’s arms wrapped around your waist, chest pressed up against your back while his lips attached to the skin behind your ear, you no longer felt like your ship was sinking. It was smooth sailing and immensely happy. 

please come into my inbox and tell me all of your thoughts, feelings, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3

[bluejayblueskies]

Could you do "things you said at 1 am" for MarTim? Romantic or platonic is good. I'm loving all these prompt fics so much!

warning for some discussion of canon-typical worms

.

Tim sets the box of Martin’s things at the foot of the cot in document storage and makes a show of shaking out his arms and hands, even though it really hadn’t been that heavy. Mostly clothes and toiletries and other necessary amenities—though Tim had snuck in a small faux-leather notebook and a picture frame depicting a family he assumed to be Martin’s standing in front of the sea. Martin couldn’t have been more than five in the picture, but Tim recognized his auburn curls and button nose.

 If Martin’s going to be stuck in the Archives for the foreseeable future, he may as well have something personal to keep him company, Tim figures. So, he’d packed it away, gathered the rest of the items on the list Martin had provided him with, and brought it all back to the Archives. Sasha was already gone by the time he arrived, and Jon’s office door was shut, though a thin line of light escaped from below it.

 He’s been working later and later, Tim’s noticed. And if the cot already tucked away in document storage is anything to go by, he’s also been spending less and less time at his flat.

 “There we are,” Tim says, flashing Martin a warm smile. “You’re all set to live in the company of hundreds of years’ worth of dusty documents. Not exactly bedtime stories—unless you prefer the spooky sort—but, you know…”

 Tim trails off with a small shrug. There’s an ache beneath it, one that grows stronger when Martin curls in on himself slightly and says, “Better than the worms.”

 “Yeah,” Tim says, and some of it leaks out—a guilt so thick it hurts his teeth. Two weeks, and he hadn’t even thought to check on Martin.

“We would have come,” Tim finds himself saying, quiet yet too-loud in the space between them. “If we’d have known, we would have come.”

 “I know,” Martin says, his words ragged around the edges. “It- it’s okay.”

 “No,” Tim says, surprised at the conviction in his voice. “It’s not. You were trapped for two weeks by a worm-infested woman and- and we just took her word that you were out sick.” Tim feels revulsion bubbling up within him, a sickening nausea. “I texted her. I thought it was you, and I- I was sending her the things I would send you, little jokes and pictures I thought you’d like and offering to come over. But every time, you said no. Said you didn’t want me to get sick, and it was such a you thing to say that I just accepted it! After a week, I should have just come by, if only to see if you needed- Christ, groceries or something.”

 Martin hugs his arms tighter to himself. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I- I don’t know what would have happened if you did.”

 Tim knows that Martin’s right. He’d probably be dead. Or worse. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that if he’d just cared enough to check in, Martin wouldn’t have that scared, haunted look on his face that he’s trying very hard to hide. “Yeah,” Tim says, that same guilt laced into his words. “You’re probably right. Doesn’t make it better, though.”

 Martin just nods. For a moment, they stand there in silence. Tim doesn’t know what to do, how to make it better. He hadn’t been there for Martin when he’d been trapped and alone and terrified, but he’s here now. He’s here, but he’s never been good at comforting people, at smoothing the pain from someone’s face or knowing the right words to chase away fear and sadness.

 So, eventually, Tim shrugs off his jacket, folds it on top of the box, and says, “You know, I have some playing cards stashed away in my desk, as well as quite an impressive selection of crisps and chocolates. I have to tell you, though—I’ve never lost a match of Go Fish.”

 Martin’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide with surprise. “What?”

 Tim shrugs and smiles, a practiced motion that keeps him grounded even when pain and sadness threaten to tear him apart. He hopes it does the same for Martin. “Thought we’d make a night of it. A good old-fashioned sleepover, if you will.”

 “Why—?” Martin cuts off, shakes his head once. When he speaks again, his voice is cracked down the middle. “You- you don’t have to stay, Tim. I’ll be fine.”

 “I know,” Tim says, a bit of that guilt pushing into the edges of his words again despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. He lets it take over, for just a moment, and says, “I thought you might not want to be alone. And I’ve been told that I’m excellent company.”

 Martin lets out a small, shaky laugh. “Do they?” he says, humored, and something warm spreads through Tim’s chest, nestling next to his heart. “I- I suppose… I’d like that.” He nods hesitantly and repeats, “I’d like that.”

 Tim flashes Martin another grin before heading off to retrieve the cards.

 They stay up late, into the very early morning even as exhaustion drags Tim’s eyelids down with every passing hour. Tim’s always liked spending time with Martin—on Friday nights at the pub or on the occasional movie night or even just in passing, taking a moment to chat at Martin’s desk before moving on to his own work. He finds himself moving closer and closer to Martin as the night wears on until their thighs are pressed together as they lean against the wall, the cards laying forgotten on the floor in front of them as they just talk. About frivolous things, like the kinds of flowers Tim likes and Martin’s favorite pastries. About personal things, like Martin’s visits to his mother in the home and Tim’s brief affair with Sasha.

 The clock rolls over into single digits, and Martin says, quietly, “I lied on my CV.”

 Tim looks over at him. His hands are fidgeting in his lap, but his mouth is set into a thin, determined line, like he’d been working himself up to this for a very long time. Martin must sense Tim’s eyes on him because he continues unprompted, “I- I mentioned that my mother is in a home, and- and she’s been unwell for quite some time, so I had to drop out of school when I was 17 to support us. Didn’t have time or the qualifications for a degree, but I needed the money, and- and nowhere was hiring, so I- I faked my credentials. Said I had a master’s in business or English or history—anything that might get me a job that paid enough to support us. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias, and then… he hired me.” Martin sucks in a small, shaky breath. “I- I’m only 29.”

 Tim’s reeling a bit. He doesn’t really know what to say—what can he say? Eventually, what comes out is, “You’ve been here since you were 22? Without a degree?” He turns so he can face Martin fully and says, completely serious, “Martin, that’s amazing.”

 Martin flushes a bright crimson. “I- I don’t really think it’s- I mean, it’s not really something that I earned—”

 Tim puts his hand on Martin’s knee, and Martin’s mouth snaps shut. “To jump straight into an academic job without any prior knowledge? Yeah, maybe it’s not conventional, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you’re just as good a researcher as me and Sasha.”

 Martin’s flush grows deeper, and he mumbles, “Yeah, I- I guess.”

 Martin’s hands begin to twist around each other again, an uncomfortable gesture, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tim takes one of Martin’s hands in his, trying to offer support and reassurance in the brush of his fingers against Martin’s. He hears the way Martin’s breath hitches as he does so, and affection curls in his stomach. “I’m glad you told me,” Tim says sincerely. “And I hope you know that I’m not going to tell anybody, not unless you want me to.”

 Martin shakes his head firmly. “No, I- I really don’t want to be fired. I, er. I kind of need this job.” He lets out a small noise that could almost be a groan if it weren’t so laced with nerves. “Christ, if Jon found out. After the dog incident, I- I think he’d just fire me on the spot.”

 “Or maybe,” Tim says, “it might finally convince him to stop berating you for every little mistake.”

 “Tim,” Martin says, pleading.

 “I’m not going to tell him,” Tim says softly, squeezing Martin’s hand once more to firmly convey his point. “I promise.”

 The tension in Martin’s shoulders bleeds out, and he sighs heavily. “Thank you. For- for everything, I suppose.” He pauses a moment before saying, quieter, “For- for this. For staying with me.”

 Tim knocks his shoulder against Martin’s and then makes the split-second decision to leave it there, pressed against Martin’s. “Yeah, of course,” he says lightly. “We’re friends.”

 “Friends,” Martin echoes, like the word’s unfamiliar on his tongue. After a moment, he squeezes Tim’s hand in return and leans more firmly into Tim’s side. His curls brush against the shell of Tim’s ear, and Tim has the sudden desire to feel Martin’s lips against him, ghosting across his jawline and light against his temple. For a moment, he considers asking—taking Martin’s hand and raising it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Martin’s knuckles and his palm and the inside of his wrist.

 He doesn’t. Instead, he gives Martin a wide smile and says, “I like you, Martin. Me and Sasha and- and even Jon, I bet, underneath all that prickliness.” He gives in to his desires, just a bit, and lets his free hand come up to the side of Martin’s face, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “How could we not?”

 Martin’s cheek is hot beneath Tim’s hand, and he can feel the motion of Martin’s jaw as he says, quietly, “I… I like you too.”

 “Flatterer,” Tim says. He loves the way Martin’s smile at that feels against his palm.

 They go to sleep soon after, Martin flat on his back on the cot and Tim sprawled on top of him despite Martin’s protests that we’re not both going to fit, Tim, the cot’s not really built for two. Tim can feel the motion of Martin’s chest as he breathes; he wants to curl up into Martin’s side and stay there forever.

 “Goodnight,” Tim mumbles, sleep already overtaking him. Maybe that’s why he lets his lips brush against Martin’s cheek as he says it, a slight enough motion that he doesn’t know if Martin feels it.

 He’s not awake for long enough to know for sure. But with the feeling of Martin beneath him, soft and warm and safe, he doesn’t really mind either way.

[jenstar1992-2]

Heaven

Pairing: Echo X Reader

Warnings: Some language, insinuations of sexual activities (I don’t know if that’s the right wording necessarily, but there it is), mentions of nightmares, loss, and grieving.

Word Count: 3,836

A/N: So, I'm not sure what all devices in the Star Wars universe are called, and in order to not sound completely inept, I decided to just describe the devices' functions instead of naming them and seeing as I've never come across some of these types of devices in Star Wars, I figured this was the best way to go. I hope that makes sense. Also, I have added a lyric video below for reference. I was initially going to just link an already existing lyric video for the song, but then I just decided to make one instead, using some visuals that better fit the content. Which then meant I had to create a Youtube channel just to upload the thing and link it here, because it wouldn’t let me upload directly from my laptop. 🤷🏼‍♀️ So that's there if anyone wants it, and I now have a Youtube channel for my longer edits. 

It was one of those nice, quiet evenings, the kind you didn't get very often ever since you started working with The Bad Batch. They weren't necessarily the rowdiest bunch of clones you'd met, but they did seem to always find a way to interrupt you and your boyfriend's alone time.

It seemed like every time you and Echo found a quiet moment where it was just the two of you, one, if not the whole lot, of them would come barging in out of nowhere, needing something or another. Although, you were pretty sure Wrecker just did it because he thought it was funny to annoy you, and knowing that fact only annoyed you more, but you'd let it slide, always reassuring yourself that there would be a next time, one that wouldn't be intruded upon. It seemed that tonight was one of those times, seeing as the four commandos were off gathering supplies at the nearby village of the planet you were temporarily taking residence on, and you were planning on making the most of it while you could.

It didn't take you long to locate your boyfriend, despite your first impressions the Havoc Marauder was not that big of a craft, so there were only so many places he could be. You found him in the communal sleeping quarters, sitting on the bunk you two shared, datapad in hand reading something or another, as usual. You had been given your own bunk, but after your first week with the group, you realized that you preferred to just sleep together. You both had a little trouble sleeping and found that sleeping in one another's embrace seemed to keep the nightmares at bay and gave you both a much more restful sleep.

You walked over and sat beside him, sliding your arms around his middle and holding him as you rested your head on his shoulder. He chuckled and wrapped the nearest arm around you, keeping you close as he continued to read.

You smiled and let out a contented sigh. Moments like this were rare alright, which is what made you appreciate them more when they did occur. It was just nice to be able to have a sweet moment with your love without a joke being made, or the always popular, "Get a room" comment.

"Would love to", you'd say, "Only problem is, it just so happens to be everyone's room."

"Damn, doesn't that bite the big one", would come Crosshair's snide remark, as he shook his head, mocking you like the snarky ass he was.

It was a good thing that deep down you really did like these guys, or you would've kicked some asses long ago.

You reveled in this quiet moment for a while longer before peeking at the datapad in his hand and asking, "So, what are you reading this time, anything interesting, or just more boring rule books?"

He laughed and shook his head. "You know, I don't just read reg manuals", he responded, turning his head to give you a smirk.

You shrugged. "I know, but you definitely read them a lot more than anyone else I know. I'm not even sure if some of the boys have ever read them actually."

He laughed again and you smiled at the sound. "Well, I'd like to think I've been branching out more lately with my literary escapades. I'm at least trying to be more fun, wouldn't want your book worm of a boyfriend boring you to death", he said, leaning into you with a light shove before straightening up again.

You chuckled and held him a bit tighter. "Yeah, you're a book worm alright, but you’re my book worm, and you’re not boring love, far from it", you said as you pulled your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze.

His eyes softened as he looked into yours, silently thanking you for the praise. He leaned his face to yours and kissed you lovingly, and with so much softness it almost hurt when he pulled away.

You just gazed into each other's eyes for a minute before you remembered why you'd come to find him in the first place.

You unwrapped your arms from around him. "Speaking of trying to be more fun, I have something fun we could do", you said with a bright smile.

He eyed you curiously. "Oh yeah, what did you have in mind?"

You rose from the bunk to stand in front of him, grabbing the datapad from his flesh hand and tossing it on the pillow beside him, taking the now empty hand and his cybernetic one in yours and pulling him to his feet.

"You are going to indulge your girlfriend, who's been waiting all day for this mind you, with a dance", you replied, smile still taking over your features.

He cocked an eyebrow, as if your response surprised him. "Huh, definitely not what I thought you were going to say", he said.

"And what did you think I was going to say", you asked with a smirk as you went to your original bunk above your shared one and pulled out a small electronic device, typing away on it, searching for something.

"Well, I, um... I thought, uh...", Echo stammered, as he rubbed the back of his neck, still searching for the right words. He cleared his throat before saying, "Uh, nothing, nothing, so a dance, huh?"

You shook your head and chuckled at his nervous behavior, you knew exactly what he thought you'd meant, but you weren't going to embarrass him any further.

"Yes, a dance", you replied, finding the audio file you'd been searching for and pulling it up. You then connected the device to the small amplifying device on the table across the room.

"That sounds nice cyare, but I don't know how to dance", he confessed shyly.

You smiled and looked to him. "Then I'll teach you", you told him, pressing on the file to play it and setting the device back on the bed.

As the soft music filled the room, you walked to your now flustered looking boyfriend, taking him by the hand and then slowly guiding him to take your hips. He didn't hesitate to do so, and as he rested his hands on you, and you placed yours around his neck, a light blush rose on his cheeks. He always got like this when you two did anything even remotely intimate. It baffled you that after this long of being together, and after doing much more than this, that he'd be this worked up over, what you saw as, a simple act. But maybe it wasn't so simple to him, maybe the years of touch deprivation had him craving it more than you realized, and add the emotion behind the action, the love you felt transferring between the two of you in something as small as a glance, and you could understand his reaction. This realization had you thanking whatever powers at be for bringing you two together, allowing you to be that person for him, because it was truly a gift, one you wouldn't take for granted.

You began to slowly sway your body from side to side, coaxing him to follow your movements. As you both found the right pace and swayed in time to the song's slow rhythm, you listened to the words being sung and let your mind wander, the words bringing memories to the surface of your consciousness.

Oh, thinkin' about our younger years,

There was only you and me,

We were young and wild and free.

You remembered when you'd first met Echo, back when he was a new addition to the 501st. A young trooper, who's dream was to one day receive ARC statues. You had become fast friends, and after only a few months it was clear that your friendship had grown into something more. It was obvious you two had feelings for each other, the only people who were blind to this were you and Echo. A problem that was soon remedied by his brother, Fives, who had all but forced Echo to admit how he felt to you, which he did, albeit, with quite a bit of struggle on his part, the poor guy could barely get his words out. Luckily, you had caught on to what he was trying to say, and took pity on him, deciding to take this opportunity to tell him that you felt the same.

You still remember the look of surprise on his face at your confession, he hadn't believed it at first, but when you plucked up the courage to grab him by the chest plate and pull him into a tender kiss, he knew you weren't lying, and this had his heart soaring.

Now nothing can take you away from me.

We've been down that road before,

But that's over now.

You keep me comin' back for more.

After the battle to defend Kamino, Echo had finally gotten what he'd been working so hard to achieve, he had been promoted to ARC Trooper, and you couldn't have been happier for him. You remember him coming into your station of the hangar to tell you the good news.

You'd been working on fixing up some loose wiring on a transport ship when you were suddenly lifted from the ground and the world spun around you. After a moment of disorientation, you found your bearings and stared up at the culprit, only to find your boyfriend beaming down at you.

"Woah, where's the fire", you asked in jest.

"No fire, just have some good news", he responded, still smiling wide.

"Oh, ok then, spill."

"We did it", he said simply.

"Umm, ok, who did what exactly", you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"Fives and I, we're being made ARC Troopers", he said, his chest puffing out a bit with pride.

"What, that's great", you practically shouted, and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I knew you could do it; you've worked so hard, you deserve this. I'm so happy for you, you're finally getting your dream."

He squeezed you tighter. "Thank you, and thank you for always believing in me, even when I didn't", he said quietly.

You pulled back to look at him before speaking. "I'll always believe in you Echo. Always and forever."

That was your thing, the mantra of your relationship, if you will, "I'll love you always and forever". This was because you both believed it to be true. Neither one of you could see yourselves falling for anyone else or loving another the way you did each other.

“Always and forever cyare”, he said, smiling softly at you, “And now I can focus on my other dream.”

You gave him confused look. “Other dream, what’s your other dream”, you asked.

His smile grew as he leaned in to speak low in your ear. “You”, he said, making your stomach do a somersault.

You knew it would be difficult, but you two wanted to plan a future together, and spend whatever time you had left together making a family and living a quiet, happy life. Once this miserable war was over, that's exactly what you were going to do.

Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way we want them to, and your dreams of a peaceful life with your beloved were shattered when the day came that the 501st returned from their mission on Lola Sayu, minus an ARC Trooper.

Oh, once in your life you'll find someone,

Who will turn your world around,

Pick you up when you're feelin' down.

Now nothing can change what you mean to me.

There's a lot that I could say,

But just hold me now.

Fives had been the one to give you the dreadful news and had stayed to help you through the initial shock and pain of it all. He had been ready for the inevitable tears he knew would come and did they ever. You couldn't remember a time before that, where you had cried with as much vigor or to the extent that you had, when shedding tears for your lost love.

I've been waiting for so long,

For somethin' to arrive,

For love to come along.

Time seemed to pass by agonizingly slow, as you tried to regain some semblance of normalcy in your life. Having both lost the person you held dear, you and Fives had found a new understanding for one another, and subsequently formed a close bond. He was the friend you desperately needed, just as you were for him. So, when you eventually lost him as well, you were beside yourself with grief.

Instead of wallowing in your sorrow, like you wanted to, you decided to throw yourself into your work, trying desperately to keep yourself busy, so as to not give yourself time to think of what you had lost. This worked most of the time, but there were always those times when something would remind you of them, a laugh that was just too close to the one you remembered, or a smile from a kind trooper that hit too close to home. Then there were those nights where you would wake from a nightmare and reach out beside you for a comforting hand, only to find empty space, those times were the hardest. It took everything you had inside you to just keep on going, because you knew that they wouldn't have wanted you to give up, so you carried on, even when it hurt.

Now our dreams are comin' true,

Through the good times and the bad,

I'll be standin' there by you.

It had been a year since the mission on Lola Sayu, a year of you trying to get on with your life, and forget the past, because remembering only caused you more pain. But life has a funny, if not sadistic, way of turning on its head and changing your course when you least expect it, because soon after that year mark, you received the news you never thought you'd get.

"He's alive", Rex said, eyes boring into yours, trying to get you to believe what he was telling you, but you weren't about to give in that easily.

"What you're saying is impossible, both you and Fives told me you saw him die at the citadel, and now you're telling me he miraculously survived. I'm not buying it, and I don't appreciate you trying to get my hopes up, just so they can be ripped back down once you're proven wrong", you said, with more venom in your voice than you had intended.

"I know I'm right on this one, (Y/N). I heard him, it was Echo's voice on that transmission, I'm sure of it", he reiterated, desperate for you to listen, or to at least consider it to be true.

"I'm sorry Rex, but I just can't believe what you're saying. I can't take another blow, I just can't, because if I do, I fear I won't make it out the other side this time" you said as tears began to fill your eyes.

Rex placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I understand, but I promise you, I'm telling the truth, Echo is alive, and I'm going to bring him home, I'm going to bring him back to you", he said, with so much conviction that you almost believed him, almost.

"Don't make promises you can't keep", you told him despondently.

He looked you in the eye, a determined expression on his face. "I intend to keep this one", he said, and he did.

No more than two days later, the team sent on the rescue mission to Skako Minor returned, with Echo.

You couldn't believe your eyes when Rex took you to see him in the med bay. He was different, that was for sure, but he was still Echo, he was still the man you loved, and you were just glad he was home.

And Baby you're all that I want,

When you're lying here in my arms,

I'm finding it hard to believe,

We're in heaven.

During his first mission, after being back, he had proven to still be the loyal soldier he had always been and had unofficially been dubbed the "Hero of Anaxes" for his brave actions.

After this mission he had also been extended the invitation to join The Bad Batch by their sergeant, which he wanted to accept, but not if it meant leaving you behind. So, Echo convinced the commandos that having a mechanic around wouldn't be such a bad idea, and they agreed.

That's how you ended up here, the mechanic onboard the Havoc Marauder, who was currently being held in the arms of the person she loved most in this galaxy, swaying to the soft music filling the air around them, in total bliss.

Love is all that I need,

And I found it there in your heart.

It isn't too hard to see,

We're in heaven.

Your head had been resting against Echo's chest, as you listened to the steady heartbeat beneath it. You never wanted this moment to end, and by the way he was holding you, without any indication of ever letting go, you were pretty sure he felt the same.

You lifted your head to look up at him, while keeping yourself flush against him, needing the contact to silently remind yourself that he was still here, he was with you. Something you still had a hard time believing from time to time, but it was real, he was here, and you were never letting go.

It had been some time since Anaxes, not a tremendous amount, but enough time where you could see a noticeable change in your boyfriend's appearance. He had filled out more and looked a lot less gaunt than he had initially upon his return. His color had improved as well, not fully, but with enough time, you were sure, he'd regain his copper glow. His hair was the other noticeable change, it had started to grow out again, and while it hadn't gotten to the length it was, there was enough where you could easily run your fingers through it, as you often did, absentmindedly.

This thought caused your hand to move of its own accord and slot itself amongst the short curls adorning his head. He gave a contented sigh as you started mindlessly running your fingers over his scalp, scratching lightly, and he leaned into your touch as his eyes closed, this always relaxed him.

After a moment, he opened his eyes to look at you, a soft smile taking shape over his features, before lowering his head to rest it against yours, both of you shutting your eyes to revel in the moment.

We're in heaven.

The music faded and soon the room fell silent. You both ceased your swaying but continued to stay in the embrace.

After what felt like an eternity, but had only been a few seconds, you broke the silence and said, "I love you Echo."

He smiled and replied, "I love you (Y/N). Always and forever."

You gave a smile of your own, the words bringing you back to those early days of your relationship, when anything was possible, and your future was bright. It could be that way again, now that you were together again, nothing was impossible.

"Always and forever", you echoed back.

With that, he closed the small gap between you and brought you into a passionate kiss.

Everything that had gone unspoken was expressed in this kiss; all the love and adoration that had built between you two over the years, all the pain that you both endured during your separation, all the missed time, and the promise that you would never be parted again, and that you would continue to strive for the future you two had planned so long ago. You were happier than you'd ever been and nothing could ruin this moment.

Suddenly, as if the universe itself wanted to prove you wrong, the door slid open and in walked all four commandos, with Wrecker in the lead.

"See, I told ya we'd find them doin' some sappy stuff", Wrecker said in his booming voice, effectively breaking your quiet moment, and your kiss, which in turn, pissed you off.

You both gave an annoyed sigh before turning to face the men. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave your best scowl in their direction, which only caused Wrecker to laugh. He'd so be getting an ass kicking later.

"Let's just be glad we didn't walk in on something... more intimate", Crosshair said, eyeing the both of you while giving a sly grin.

You let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah, you wish", you retorted, which only earned you a chuckle from the sniper. Okay, add another one to the "people who need an ass kicking" list. "I think you're both just jealous", you said, trying to make it sound snarky.

"Of this guy", Wrecker asked as he walked over, clapping his hand down on Echo's shoulder. "Damn straight, I mean, he’s got a bombshell for a girlfriend, how could we not be, he's one lucky bastard", he said, although you couldn't quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Either way it ticked you off, but before you could throw the punch you had geared up for, Echo pulled you to him, holding you securely against him and effectively blocking your way to the giant commando.

"Easy cyare, no need for bloodshed, and besides, he has a point", he said, leaning in and lowering his voice, "I am a very lucky man."

You shook your head at him but couldn't help the grin that formed at his words.

"Okay, that's enough boys, let's give the happy couple some privacy shall we. Besides, Wrecker, it's your turn to make dinner", Hunter interrupted, giving his brother a stern look.

"Oh man, again, I thought I just did that", Wrecker grumbled.

"You did, when it was your turn last week", Tech told him matter-of-factly.

Wrecker made a noise of aggravation before leaving the room, mumbling incoherently in displeasure. The other two followed him out, as you gave Hunter a thankful smile before he nodded and made his exit, letting the door slide shut behind him.

You turned back to Echo, who still had you in his embrace.

"So, where were we", you inquired, a soft smile back on your face.

He feigned ponderment. "Hmm, I believe we were right about...", he began, and suddenly pulled you close enough that your noses were touching, "Here", he finished, his smile widening before bringing you in for another heated kiss. You melted into it and fell into another state of bliss.

You stayed like that for another long moment, as the world faded around you. Wrapped in a loving embrace, engaged in an impassioned kiss, and lost in your own personal heaven.

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter six

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Chloe didn’t register any of it. Her ears were buzzing with adrenaline and her body felt like it wasn’t even her own anymore, but her legs worked on auto-pilot as she followed Beca to the car. 

As Jesse drove away from the club and Chloe somewhat calmed down, the situation slowly dawned onto her, sending her thoughts into a spiral. 

She had just fled from Marco. She probably didn’t have a job anymore. She was homeless. 

But before she could full-on panic, a gloved hand slid inside of hers, grounding her some. Her eyes flickered up and met Beca’s. “You’re okay. We’re heading to my apartment, you’ll stay in my guest bedroom.” 

All Chloe could muster was a weak nod. All of this felt surreal.

They arrived at Beca’s place less than ten minutes later, Jesse taking a left and driving into an underground parking lot. Once the car was parked, Chloe stepped out, standing back while Beca told Jesse to drive himself home and that she would come to pick up her car tomorrow. 

“I’m up on the twelfth floor,” Beca said as she hit the elevator button. 

“Is your hand okay?” Chloe asked, only remembering now that Beca punched Marco. 

Beca made a fist then splayed out her fingers, wincing a bit. “It’s not broken at least. I’ll be fine.” 

They stepped inside the elevator, Chloe’s eyes remaining fastened to the carpet as it rode up to the right floor. She followed Beca down the hall and stood back while she unlocked her door. Chloe stepped inside after her, her eyes scanning the huge open-plan space with floor to ceiling windows. 

She remained by the entrance while Beca went to get something from the kitchen, reappearing with something wrapped in a kitchen towel. “For your cheek.” 

Chloe nodded, taking it and pressing it to her cheekbone. 

“The bedroom is right there down the hall,” Beca directed, motioning for Chloe to follow her. She hooked a right and hit the lights, revealing a soberly decorated large room with a queen-sized bed. “I’ll go get you some clothes to sleep in.” 

Chloe nodded, stepping further inside the room and lowering herself on the edge of the mattress. She realized she was shaking slightly, but she couldn’t tell if it was from leftover adrenaline or her body starting to crave a hit. 

“Here,” Beca said as she rounded the corner, setting a pair of folded sweatpants, a simple t-shirt, and her Barden hoodie down on the comforter. “The bathroom is right across the hall, I put some clean towels on the counter if you want to take a shower, and a toothbrush. I have my own bathroom so feel free to use this one whenever you want. Help yourself to anything, the kitchen cupboards are stocked up with plenty of snacks and the fridge with sodas.” 

“Okay,” Chloe whispered, briefly meeting Beca’s eyes. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Beca assured her softly, casting her a small smile. “I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Once again, Chloe nodded. She watched Beca step out of the room and stared blankly at the wall in front of her for a while until she started feeling the physical toll of the night’s events creep up on her. She stood up, stepping out of her stripper heels and unzipping her dress. A shower would wait until morning. After changing into the spare clothes Beca had lent her, Chloe swung by the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her heavy make-up off. 

She crawled into bed a few minutes later, willing her body and mind to relax enough that she would find some sleep. The next hour was spent tossing and turning, trying to silence her craving for cocaine and her visceral need to bolt. 

But she didn’t have anywhere safe to go, or any money to buy anything. 

Chloe slipped out of bed and crossed the hall to the bathroom, opening the faucet and cupping her hands under it to gather some water to splash her face with. 

“Snap out of it,” she muttered to herself as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror, gripping the edges of the counter with both hands. 

Dark circles were permanently etched under her eyes from sleep deprivation thanks to the cocaine allowing her to go days without resting. Her cheeks were hollowed out from her weight loss and her skin a ghostly pale. She looked nearly ten years older than her actual age. 

Familiar voices wormed their way into her mind, chanting, whispering, cackling devilishly. 

Worthless. Ugly. Dumb.

A sob echoed against the bathroom walls as Chloe let go of the counter to hold her head between her hands, fingers pulling on her hair. 

“Pull yourself together,” she mumbled next as her mind warred with those parasites having made a home in her subconscious. “They’re lying.” 

Chloe knew trying to sleep was a lost battle, so she padded to the living room. If she couldn’t have cocaine, alcohol was the next best thing. Something strong, preferably, something that could muffle all those insecurities.

It took her less than two minutes to find Beca’s liquor cabinet, and she fished out a bottle of whiskey, plucking a tumbler from the cupboard above the sink. She reached for the remote and turned on the TV at a low volume so she could focus on something else than her own thoughts, settling for CNN as she poured herself a third of the glass and knocked it back. 

Familiar, comforting warmth filled her belly and spread to her limbs and chest as Chloe poured herself another, nursing this one slowly as she curled up on Beca’s couch. It took four drinks for exhaustion to gain the upper hand on Chloe’s anxiety, and she fell asleep on the couch, the near-empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. 

She woke up sometime later to someone shaking her shoulder. The light was bright behind her closed lids, and Chloe scrunched up her nose, curling up tighter on herself. 

“Chloe, wake up.” 

That voice didn’t belong to Marco. The realization drew Chloe’s mind from its foggy state and she opened her eyes to find Beca sitting in front of her. Slightly disoriented, Chloe slowly sat up. She caught sight of the bottle and guilt coupled with shame surged her insides. “I’ll--I’ll replace that.” 

Beca frowned. “What? No, that’s-- you don’t need to do that.” 

Chloe’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t-- I was craving something, and…” she trailed off, inhaling sharply as she felt her chest constrict and tears burn her eyes. “I think-- I think I need help.” 

It was odd, that feeling of instant relief as soon as she uttered the words. As though a huge weight she didn’t know was there just lifted from her chest. 

“Okay.” Beca reached out to set her hand on Chloe’s knee. Her expression was soft, her eyes warm, and Chloe immediately felt comforted. “We’ll get you help. I was on the phone with a rehab upstate earlier, they have a spot on Monday.” 

Monday. As in three days from now. 

“I can’t-- I don’t have fifty grand, Beca, and there’s--there’s--” She cut herself off, shaking her head as emotions rose to her throat and made her voice waver. She needed to work. She needed to provide for her dad. “I have to work.” Upon catching Beca’s confused look, Chloe sucked in another deep breath. “My--my dad is sick. He has late-onset MS and they can’t afford treatment on their own.” 

Realization dawned on Beca’s features as she nodded slowly, empathy swirling in her gaze. “How much money is the treatment?” 

“I give them two thousand dollars a month to cover what’s left after insurance.” 

“Do you know their bank account information?” Beca asked as she grabbed her phone, swiping her thumb over the screen to unlock it. “I’ll set up an automatic transfer each first of the month.” 

Chloe’s mouth slowly opened in shock. “What?” She croaked out, her bottom lip trembling. “I can’t ask you to pay for it.” 

“You didn’t,” Beca said softly, glancing up. “I’m offering. And I’m covering the rehab cost as well.” 

Chloe blinked twice in slow succession. “I don’t-- I don’t--” she started to object, but reason quickly gained the upper hand. She couldn’t afford any of those things, and she couldn’t afford to stay like this, either. She was legitimately afraid she might die if she continued down that path. “I don’t know what to say except thank you, but that doesn’t seem like enough. I’ll pay you back though. Every cent of it.” 

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” Beca murmured, squeezing her knee gently as she gae Chloe a tight-lipped smile. “The best way you can thank me is by focusing on getting better.” 

A few tears rolled down Chloe’s cheeks, and she was at a loss for words for a little while as her heart swelled in her chest. 

She hadn’t felt that in a long time. 

“So um, next Monday?” She asked then, swiping her thumbs over her cheeks. 

“Yeah. It’s an hour drive away, I took my Monday morning off to drive you. The program is thirty days,” Beca explained. “The nurse I had on the phone told me that detoxing yourself on your own before that could be dangerous and advised against it. I wasn’t sure… what type of drug you’re taking, but she said it didn’t matter. You could go through a cold turkey kind of thing and while I’m not exactly comfortable with you continuing to use until then, it’s what’s best, according to her.” 

Chloe sniffled. “I don’t have any with me. Some of my stash is at the club and the rest is at Marco’s place.” 

“Right, um… do you know when he isn’t there? You probably need to get some stuff, right?” 

“He’s at the club most nights. Usually gets there from 9 pm, so we could go after?”

“I’ll text Luke and Jesse to come with us for reinforcements in case he’s there. I kneed the guy in the balls, he must be pretty pissed.” Beca cleared her throat, eyeing Chloe. “Will you be okay until tonight? You know, without taking anything?” 

Chloe nodded. “I’ll manage. I just need distractions or else I get really agitated.” 

“Okay. I can definitely help with that,” Beca said, taking her hand back. “I was gonna make breakfast, are you hungry?” 

“No, not really. I could drink a coffee, though? After I shower.” 

Beca smiled and pushed to her feet. “You got it. Take your time.” 

Trusting other people had been a recurring issue for Chloe in the past few years, but she willed herself not to start doubting Beca’s intentions. After her shower, Chloe headed back to the main room, her step faltering upon walking past an open door. She tentatively peered inside, quickly realizing this was Beca’s office. Her eyes popped wider at the sight of the five gramophones sitting on a shelf, among framed gold and platinum records. 

She stepped further inside to take a closer look, her heart making a painful lurch as her gaze fell on a picture of the Bellas after their first ICCA win. Chloe reached out to pluck the frame off the surface, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over her as she thought back to that day. 

“You okay?” 

Chloe jumped a little, glancing over her shoulder as she hastily but carefully placed the frame back where it had been. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Chlo,” Beca assured her softly. She nodded towards the leather couch in the corner. “Have a seat, I’ll bring you your coffee.” 

Chloe nodded and crossed the room, admiring the hundreds of records neatly tucked in a built-in library on the opposite wall. 

“You can pick something to listen to, if you want,” Beca told her when she returned with two cups, twin curls of steam rising from them. She set Chloe’s on the small table in front of the couch and curled up on one end while Chloe picked a record. She ended up going for Rumours, one of her all-time favorite albums, and took it out, setting it on the record player. 

The opening chords of Dreams filled the room as she lowered the stylus on the edge, and she padded to the couch, cradling her mug between her palms. 

“Fleetwood Mac. Always been one of your favorite,” Beca observed with a soft expression as she lifted her mug to take a sip. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay.” Chloe knew the first telltale signs of craving would hit her sometime around midday, but she would hang in there. “You made it, huh? To the top?” 

Beca broke eye-contact, her cheeks reddening. “I was lucky to come across amazing people throughout my career.” 

Chloe knew Beca’s sheer amount of raw talent was the root of her success, but Beca still seemed to be her humble self. “Do you speak to Aubrey often?” 

“Once in a while. More so in the past two weeks as we tried to figure out a way to help you. Otherwise, we still have the group chat, and we’re planning a reunion this summer.” 

“Oh,” Chloe let out upon finding out the girls still hung out together. Her heart ached in her chest over everything she had missed, but she only had herself to blame for that one.

“And you’ll be there,” Beca added with a soft smile. “With us.” 

Chloe swallowed the lump forming in her throat; the road to recovery was bound to be a long and tumultuous journey, but maybe having a goal in sight was what she needed to stay on track during low moments. 

“The nurse said cellphones wouldn’t be allowed for the first two weeks, but I’ll give you Aubrey’s number for the next two, okay? She would love to hear from you.” 

Chloe nodded, her lips curling in a hint of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon hauled up in Beca’s office (she weirdly felt at ease there), curled up on the couch and listening to soothing records as her body and mind battled against an array of negative feelings and sensations. 

Around 10 pm, she and Beca drove to Marco’s place accompanied by Luke and Jesse. Chloe kept a key under the mat for those nights she was so drunk or high she usually forgot them at the club and was grateful to find it there. 

“I’ll be quick,” she told Beca, heading into the bedroom to get a duffle bag from the bottom of the dresser and throwing a bunch of comfy clothes into it. 

She knew that even if Marco did come home nothing would happen with Luke and Jesse being there, but that didn’t stop sweat from trickling down her back as she grabbed her essentials as quickly as she could. 

“Okay. I’ve got everything,” she said as she met them by the door about five minutes later, slightly out of breath. Her anxiety was through the roof, not lessening even when they got back into the car, but she tried not to let it show. 

It was only when she was able to take a hit back at Beca’s apartment that Chloe was able to calm herself down. 

“Are you alright?” Beca asked a while later when Chloe eventually emerged. 

She sat on the living-room couch, her laptop balanced on her thighs. 

Chloe nodded, tugging on her sleeves as she shuffled to sit on the end of it. She didn’t take as much as she used to, not seeking that euphoric state she needed while she was at work. Just enough to deal with the darkness swirling inside her. “Thank you.” 

“Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering pizza, with pineapple on one half for you weirdo.” 

Chloe snickered. “Yeah, I could eat a little.” 

Monday came before Chloe realized. She packed a bag and slid in beside Beca, staring out the window most of the drive as they headed upstate. Nerves sprouted in her belly as Beca parked in front of the fancy-looking facility, and Chloe puffed out a breath. 

Beca cast her a reassuring smile. “I’ll go check in with you.” 

Nodding, Chloe stepped out and grabbed her bag from the trunk, slinging it over her shoulder. They walked through the glass sliding doors and headed towards the desk, where a friendly-looking man greeted them. 

“Hi, my name is Chloe Beale, I’m here, um, to start rehab.” 

She felt Beca’s fingers gently wrap around hers as the man checked his computer, and let her tense shoulders sag. 

“Right this way, I’ll show you to your room, Ms. Beale. Your friend can come, too.” 

“Thank you.” 

She didn’t let go of Beca’s hand as they followed the employee up some stairs and down the hall. The room was bright and spacious, with a queen-sized bed and an amazing view of the forest behind the building. Chloe set her bag down on the mattress and looked around as the man went through basic rules, giving him her phone when requested. Chloe would be allowed to call someone during bad days with the phone downstairs, though.

He left shortly after, and Chloe inhaled sharply as she turned towards Beca. “I guess I’ll write you a letter?” She asked, her voice wavering slightly. 

“I’d love that,” Beca murmured. “You’re going to nail this, Chlo. I’m just a phone call away if you need to talk, alright?” 

Chloe nodded. “Yeah.” She stepped up to Beca and pulled her into a hug, closing her eyes as she relished in their closeness. “I’ll see you in a month.” 

Beca backed away, smiling. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m so proud of you for doing this,” she whispered, squeezing Chloe’s hand as she took a step back. “See you in a month.” 

Chloe fought to hold onto her emotions until the door shut behind Beca, breaking down as soon as silence surrounded her. 

For the first time in six years, she was on her own, and the month ahead might be her hardest challenge, yet.

[sarah-sandwich]

"I need a hug" please and thank you!

Hi friend! Here it is! Remind me to never commit to a fic a day for an entire week again lmao

Happy last day of National Storyteller Week to everyone who creates or consumes stories! Jump over to my ao3 for 5 ridiculous parkner fics 👌✨💛

Peter, no

He probably should have clued in sooner, a lot sooner.

Him and Peter have been attached at the hip for three years, ever since Peter ran into the lab in the middle of a video call with Tony, shouted something about an arm-wrestling tournament with the Avengers, and begged, “You gotta come trash talk them for me! Please, Mr. Stark! No one roasts as good as you!” Then, after receiving Tony’s resigned agreement, exclaimed, “I’m gonna dislocate Captain America’s shoulder!” turned tail and sprinted back out, ignoring Tony’s, “Peter, no!”

It was over in under a minute but he was bewitched.

“Who was that? And why haven’t I met him?”

“I’ve been avoiding this day,” Tony said in a world-weary tone. “You’re either going to hate each other or get on like a house fire. Either way, I’ll never know peace again.”

In usual Tony Stark fashion, he was right.

He thought he’d seen every side of Peter there is. He’s seen him soft and sleepy under the blue glow of the television. He’s seen him wired and manic as he pursues a project on little to no sleep. He’s seen him broken and bleeding in more ways than he cares to count. He’s seen him laughing until he cries, crying so hard the only thing he can do is cry with him, too exhausted to feed himself, too angry to speak, and he’s been there when he’s on the cusp of dropping dead from embarrassment (usually pointing and laughing but hey, somebody’s gotta keep him humble).

He knows him like he knows his sister, like he knows his mom, like he knows himself.

His point is, it shouldn’t have taken this camping trip to put the pieces together. Realization shouldn’t have hit him like a log to the face when Peter rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed flannel and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for wanting to kiss him stupid.

Well, stupider.

A moment later, Peter picked up the bag of tent poles like they weighed nothing and somehow managed to dump them all over the side of the road like a can of pick-up-sticks.

It’s gonna be a long weekend.

~*~

“What’s this thing for again?” Peter asks, raising his arms high over his head to hold up the long swath of fabric two times his height.

“It’s a rain fly, Peter. It keeps out the rain.”

“It’s not supposed to rain. Trust me, Aunt May checked the weather like 50 times before she would let me leave.”

“We still need it.”

“But why? We could sleep under the stars.”

“It traps in heat.”

“Sounds like another tally in the cons column. It’s hot as fuck, dude.”

“Not tonight it won’t be. Temperature fluctuates a lot in the mountains, especially when the sun goes down.”

“Temperature fluctuates in the mountains,” Peter repeats mockingly.

Harley stops what he’s doing. “If you really wanna sleep under the stars I don’t have to share my tent. Enjoy the skeeters.”

“You love me too much to leave me to sleep with the wildlife,” Peter says, voice muffled from under the rain fly as he attempts to drape it over the erected tent.

His heart skips. Does he know? Has he been that obvious even while oblivious to his own feelings? Did Peter figure it out before he did? Has he been graciously not saying anything about his huge undeniable crush while—

Peter squawks and tumbles forward, the tent collapsing under him with a snap that echoes through the trees. The rain fly flutters over him like a burial shroud.

“Please tell me whatever just broke was a part of you.”

“Uhh, sorry.”

He sighs. He’s in love with an idiot.

~*~

The tent leans a little to the left when they’re done with it but he’s pretty sure it’ll hold up through the night. Just in case, they limit how often they go in and out of it (which, in his opinion, is the way it should be done regardless).

A breeze rustles the trees, scattering pine needles as birds chitter and small unseen wildlife scurries around the underbrush. He breathes in deep, savoring the scent of dirt, pine, and fresh air. He’s been in the city far too long.

Peter stands with his hands on his hips, dirt crusted on the knees of his jeans, his borrowed flannel pulling tight across his chest as he watches a puffy white cloud scoot by with a befuddled expression.

He turns to Harley. “So umm, now what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. You’re the one who’s never done this before?”

Peter stares at him blankly.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” He shakes his head and walks over to the car with a sigh. “This way, city boy. It’s time you learned to fish.”

“Sounds smelly.”

“Mmm.” He pops the trunk and pulls out two fishing rods—one old and dinged up, the other brand-spankin-new—and he passes them to Peter so he can grab the tackle box and a white plastic bucket with a lid on it.

“And slimy,” Peter continues, wrinkling his nose at the bold ‘WORMS’ printed on the side of the white bucket.

“That it is, but there aren’t any rats and no one has pissed on the place you need to sit so it’s automatically better than anything the city has to offer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Peter grumbles.

~*~

“Y’know,” Harley drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded as he watches Peter jump from rock to rock along the shoreline, “usually when people are lookin’ to catch a fish they cast their line into the water rather than leavin’ it on the ground.”

“Oh is that how it’s done? I had no idea,” Peter says, stooping down to peer into a small pool sequestered away from the rest of the body of water. “What do tadpoles look like?”

“Uh, little squirmy guys.”

“Very descriptive, thank you.”

“Mhmm. Anytime, darlin’.”

Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed and he jolts under the sudden scrutiny.

“What?” he asks. He always calls him darling. It’s just a thing he says—a southern thing. So what if over the years he’s stopped using the name for anyone else? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not weird.

“Are you falling asleep?” Peter asks.

“Pfft, no,” he says. The sun is deliciously warm, seeping into his skin and turning his bones to butter as the katydids buzz and birds sing. A warm breeze ruffs his hair and he finds himself blinking slowly.

“Dude, you’re totally falling asleep.” Peter grins playfully and hopscotches across the rocks back to him as he teases, “You know, usually when someone wants to catch a fish, they do it while they’re awake.”

“I am awake, dummy.”

“Not for much longer.” He comes to a stop at his side and tweaks the brim of his hat. “Look at you. You’re like an old man falling asleep in his recliner in front of the big game.”

“Napping is a perfectly respectable part of fishing,” he argues.

Peter throws back his head and laughs. Backed by blue sky and thickly forested mountain, sunlit from above, he’s never looked better.

Should he tell him? Is now the time? He can’t imagine living like this—knowing how he feels but bottling it up and keeping it a secret from his best friend.

Then again—

His fishing rod dips and he sits up with a start, hands already moving for the reel.

“Woah, is that a fish?” Peter exclaims, peering into the lake.

“Sure hope so. Can’t imagine what else it’d—,”

“Can I pull it in?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excitable puppy.

“No, you if wanna get a fish you have to put in the work.”

“What work? Laying around half-asleep?”

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll let you take it off the line, how ‘bout that?”

“Eh, that’s okay. I’m good.”

He wrestles the fish out of the lake, a bass about two hands long, and then holds the flopping fish, hooked through the lip, out to Peter.

“There you go. Just pop that puppy off the hook and toss ‘im back in.”

“Wait, you don’t even keep the fish?”

“What would I do with a fish?”

“…eat it?”

“That’s a whole song and dance I ain’t got the tools or the patience for. Just grab the fish, Pete. Preferably before it suffocates.”

Peter makes an unhappy sound in his throat but reaches for the fish. Just as his fingers brush the scales, the fish gives a mighty wiggle and Peter flinches back towards the lake.

“Eep!” Peter squeaks and goes into the water with a splash.

Harley hunches over, laughing his head off as Peter sits up, water streaming down his face and dripping from his hair.

“I hate you.” Slipping and sliding in the muck, he makes his way through the mid-thigh deep water, back to dry land, and then keeps walking past Harley and up the hill to the trail that will lead him back to camp.

All the while Harley laughs and laughs, taking a moment to free the fish back into the lake before he sits down and tips his face to the sun, chuckling and committing to memory the way Peter’s soaked jeans and flannel clung all over his body.

~*~

“I still don’t see why—,”

“Shush,” Peter snaps, frowning in concentration over the tiny flame he’s been babying to life for the past fifteen minutes.

He sighs. He tried to convince him to wait until supper for a campfire meal but Mr. Eager Beaver insisted on trying his hand at it now. Had they made sandwiches they’d be done by now and could be hiking. But no. Peter wants to play Boy Scout so they’re going to sit here and starve until he gets a fire built just to spend five minutes roasting hot dogs and then have to put it out again.

To make matters worse, Peter’s no longer wearing his shirt since it got soaked in the lake. He’d gotten attached to how he looks in his clothes. Now he’s wearing on one of his standard nerd-pun tees and a wrinkly pair of khaki cargo shorts and he’s going to have to convince him to at least put on long socks before they hike or he’s going to risk getting poison ivy or poison oak all over his calves and ankles.

“There it goes! There it goes!” Peter exclaims, sitting up tall and motioning at him to look at the little flame as it eats up the pile of twigs and tinder.

“Very good, dear,” he says dryly. “Now see if you can keep it going with some real wood.”

Peter cocks his head at him. “Was that a double-entendre?”

“Why on earth would I imply that we should put a part of my human anatomy in the fire, Peter?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, squatting beside the fire as he breaks up a stick. “Dick jokes are funny.”

“You’re a child.”

“And yet you— Shit!” He flinches back from the fire and falls on his backside.

He comes alert with a spike of adrenaline, rushing forward to— to— pat out flames with his bare hands? He doesn’t know. “What happened?” he demands, checking Peter over for damage and finding nothing, not a burn or singe in sight.

Still sprawled on the ground, Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes with an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t want to say.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he sits up cross-legged and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He stares down at him as he looks down in his lap. “You’re really not going to tell me what just happened? I already saw you fall in a lake because you were scared of a fish. It can’t be worse than that.”

Peter looks up, neck crimped and mouth screwed into an unhappy pucker. “I thought something was on me but it was just the grass.”

Harley stares. “So, you thought a bug was on you.”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this place.”

What has he gotten himself into?

~*~

Peter hasn’t stopped chattering about everything under the sun since they left camp. And considering where they are, there’s a lot to chatter about. From bugs to birds to types of trees and identifying clouds, he’s heard it all. It’s why he’s not paying attention to the path like he should, too busy watching the way Peter waves his hands animatedly as he rambles, the way the sun lights his eyes and makes his hair shine, the way his lips shape the words.

He hasn’t taken in a word he’s said for the past twenty minutes but he’s watched him with rapt attention while his mind churns through his options. He’s not one to ignore something once he knows about it. He doesn’t want to keep this a secret. There’s no reason to. It’s nothing shameful and if Peter doesn’t reciprocate then… well, nothing changes, right? He’s fine with that. Best friends is still good. Great, even.

But if Peter does reciprocate…

His breathing quickens at the thought. How did he not notice this ridiculous crush sooner? It’s like something has been awakened inside him and now it refuses to shut up and go back to sleep. He gravitates towards Peter like an orbiting moon. He’s a moth to Peter’s beam of light. Helpless under the thrall.

Peter suddenly looks right at him. “—you know what I mean?”

“Huh?” His foot lands wrong and rolls over a root. His ankle screams out and then he’s dropping as it gives out.

“Woah!” Peter catches him, one arm around his back and the other fisted into his shirt at his shoulder. His brain goes offline, only processing the way Peter is pressed against him, the way his face is angled over him like he’s on the verge of dipping him into a kiss, the way neither of them moves or speaks, staring instead with startled realization.

He thinks he imagines it when Peter’s eyes dilate but then they fix on his lips and there’s no way he’s imagining that.

Lights flash in his head and he forgets to breathe as they hang suspended in time.

Then Peter bites his lip and his cheeks flush dark pink as he yanks Harley upright.

He stumbles, unprepared, and his ankle gives out a second time.

Peter catches him by the elbows babbling, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—,”

“I’m fine. I…” The rest of the sentence vanishes from his tongue as he looks into Peter’s eyes. He loves his eyes—warm and affectionate, they always give him away. Whether they’re bright with curiosity, sparkling with delight, wide with embarrassment, or narrowed in anger, he’s an open book. That’s why the look in his eyes now gives him pause. He’s never seen it before—or maybe it’s been there all along but he hasn’t noticed until now.

They’re dark and focused like he’s seeing through him into his soul and likes what he sees so much he wants to eat him alive.

His heart thunders as he lifts a hand to Peter’s cheek. This is it. This is the moment he tells him and finds out where they’re going to go next.

Peter’s eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but then his gaze shifts beyond him and he freezes except to carefully grab his forearm in a too-tight grip.

“Bear,” Peter breathes.

His awareness of their surrounding returns so suddenly it hurts. Birds sing, bugs buzz and chirp, somewhere nearby a creek burbles, and behind him on the path, something scuffs the ground and then snorts and sniffs harshly.

“No,” he says quietly. No, he refuses to allow this to be his reality. This cannot be happening. He won’t allow this to happen.

“Harley, bear,” Peter repeats, grip tightening.

Oh my God, this is happening.

“Don’t run,” he says in an undertone. “You’re not supposed to run.”

“We gotta run.”

“Peter, no.”

“Harley, there’s a fucking bear.”

“Listen to me—,”

“I’m gonna grab you—,”

“—we gotta stay still and—,”

“I’ll carry you and—,”

“—non-threatening so—,”

“I’m going to get you up a tree and then—,”

“—it won’t chase us.”

“—the bear will chase me.”

“Peter—,”

“It’ll be fine.”

“—no.”

~*~

He waits in the tree for over an hour, ankle throbbing, sick to his stomach with worry, wondering if he’ll ever see the idiot he stupidly fell in love with ever again. Even if he didn’t get eaten by the bear, he’s no good out here in the woods. He could be lost. He could be too hurt to move. He could be—

—covered in what smells like animal shit and standing balefully at the base of the tree.

“I need a hug,” Peter says, voice small.

“Did you—,”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“So that’s—,”

“Don’t say it. Do you need help getting down?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t touch me.”

“That’s fair. I’ll be in the lake. Will you bring me all of the soap and soap-like products we own?”

“Yeah. Gimme a minute.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

I love you. I’m glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. You’re everything I want.

“You’re an idiot,” he says.

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

~*~

“Black bears can run 35 miles per hour,” he says conversationally. They’re sprawled on a blanket while the fire crackles nearby (but not too close, they’ve had enough disasters for one day). His foot is propped on the tackle box, elevating his ankle and Peter is beside him, flat on his back staring up at the stars through the trees, close enough that their arms brush.

“Trust me, I know.”

“They can also climb trees,” he continues reading from his phone. “You should never climb a tree to avoid a bear.”

“Harley—,”

“If a bear notices you, stay calm. Most bears don’t want to attack you.”

“Dude, I get it.”

“Move away slowly and sideways. Do not run. Do not climb a tree.”

Peter snatches the phone out of his hands and sits up. “I panicked, okay? I can’t lose you! I had to get you out of there.”

He goes still, the crackling of the fire and the crickets the only sound in the night.

“Say again?”

“Don’t,” Peter says harshly, still holding his phone far out of reach. “Don’t make fun of me about this one. You don’t get it, okay?”

This isn’t how he expected this to happen. Hyper aware of his heart beating in his chest, he asks, “What don’t I get?”

“I was terrified.”

“And you think I wasn’t?”

“Not in the way I was. I was— It was like— It was like if anything happened to you, nothing would be okay ever again. I don’t—,” He pulls in a deep breath, chest heaving as his eyes shine uncommonly bright in the firelight. “I don’t know. You’re— Ever since we met things have just felt right and good in a way they hadn’t before and I’ve already lost so many people and then you were in danger and I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” he says gently, sitting upright and scooting over on the blanket. “Okay.” He takes the phone and sets it aside then takes Peter’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Peter says miserably, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I think I have been for a long time.”

“Well, that’s lucky because I think I’m in love with you too.”

“You— What?”

“Mhmm. Since at least this morning.”

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch. “This morning? For real? Are you teasing me?”

“A hundred percent serious. It hit me right before you dumped my tent poles all over 36th street. Unrelated, you should wear my clothes more often.” He pauses and then says, “I think today was the universe asking me if I was sure I wanted to be tied down to your dumb ass for the rest of forever.”

“And?” Peter asks, eyes wide in the firelight.

“Yeah,” he says, smoothing a curl away from his forehead. “I’m sure.”

Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “Is that okay?”

Heart in his mouth, he says, “I think you can do better.”

Peter laughs and smooths his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

[itsthestutterforme]

You're Not My Family (Aaron Hotchner)

Y/N and Hotch are seeing each other and she comforted him when Hotch was in the hospital after Foyet attacked him in his apartment. Morgan and JJ were locating his family and Hotch was on edge. He snaps at Y/N and that cut her deep. Hotch tries to apologize but she doesn't forgive him.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, David Rossi

--

Emily told me that Aaron wasn't in his house but there was blood and signs of a struggle. His phone was in the house so there was no way to contact him. It wasn't until she found Morgan's credentials that she connected the Reaper to this. My heart races at the thought of Hotch being dead. The Reaper wanted him from the start.

I walk to the bathroom of the BAU and lock the door. I squat down and rest my face in my hands as tears forms in my eyes. A few moments later, I hear my phone ring. I take a few deep breaths and clear my throat before answering. "Y/L/N," "Hello, this is Nurse Harper from Mary Washington Hospital. You are put down as an emergency contact for Aaron Hotchner?"

"Hi! Yes, um, is he.. is he alright?" "He has multiple lacerations and deep cuts from a knife of larger size. But luckily, none of them nicked any vital organs," "Oh thank God," I say, sighing in relief. "I'm on my way," I add. "Alright, see you soon." I hang up and rush out of the bathroom and take the elevator down to my car. I hop in my car and drive to Mary Washington Hospital.

On the way there, I called Emily and informed her where Hotch was. We arrive at the hospital at the same time and wait for Hotch to wake up. "You want something to drink?" Emily asks me as she sees my leg bouncing nervously.

"Yeah, that'll be great. Thanks." I say. She places a hand on my leg and says, "He's going to be fine." She walks down to the cafeteria when I hear the nurse say, "Mr. Hotchner is awake now,"

I rise from the chair and follow her to the room. His hair was disheveled and his face was starting to bruise. "Hey," I say. "Hi," he says, trying to get up. "Uh-uh, you stay right there and don't move a muscle."

I text Emily that Hotch was awake. "Did you figure out how he got in?" "Emily was in the apartment, I was helping the rest of the team with a case."

"How are you feeling?" I add as I hold the side of his face. He leans into it and kisses my palm. "Better now you're here," he says, making me smile. Emily rushes in and says, "Thank God you're okay." My phone rings and I see that it's Reid. I step outside to answer.

"Hey, how's Hotch?" "He's ready to leave but you know I'm not letting that happen," I say, making Reid chuckle through the phone.

"How's the case coming along? You need my help?" "There's a lot of patients that me and the doctor need to go through to determine which is connected to the unsubs." "Say no more, send me the address." I say before hanging up. "Reid needs some help with the case. I have to go." "I understand,"

I give Hotch a peck on the lips and look to Emily. "I give you full right to trip him if he tries to leave that bed." "Got it," she says as I leave the room.

**

The case was finished and I was just finished bringing Reid out of the hospital from the injury to his leg. I drive us to Mary Washington Hospital and I help Reid get out with his crutches.

We take the elevator to the floor Hotch was on and immediately felt like something was wrong. Haley was holding Jack on her hips with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Haley, hey, are you alright? What's wrong?" "We have to go under protective custody and we're leaving right now." She walks passed me without another word. I walk into the room and nearly walk into Emily.

"How long do you think they'll be in protective custody?" I ask. "Until we catch Foyet," "We don't know how to long that will be. The only way we can track is if--"

"He knows. And he's pretty torn up about it. He needs your support right now." Emily stated. I walk into the room and could instantly feel the tension. Hotch looks outside the window like he's trying to hold back his tears. "Hotch," I say.

He shakes his head and I make my way over to him. "I would like to be alone please," "Come on, Hotch. Right now isn't a time to-" "I said leave! You're not my family, you don't understand the pain I'm going through right now."

I wince at the sound of his voice raising. Having no idea what to do, my mind drifts off to the most painful memories of the foster home. "You don't deserve love. Your own parents didn't want you," the voice of one of my foster father's echoes in my mind.

"Y/N.. Y/N I'm sorry, I-" I walk out of the room and take my phone to set my phone in silence. "Y/N!" he calls after me but I continued to walk. "What happened?" Rossi asks. "Ask him," I say before rushing out of the hospital.

I drive home and turn off the engine. I decided to stay in the car for a moment, but the silence only allowed me to think back to the foster care moments.

I softly cry to myself as I lean my head against the steering wheel. "Why doesn't no one want me?" I whimper. Am I really that bad? My lungs ache from the lack of oxygen as more tears stream down my face. I grab my phone and purse before leaving the car.

I unlock my door and my Corgi greets me at the door. I let her out in our fenced backyard and sigh deeply. "Just when I thought I moved on from this." I look down at my phone to see five missed calls from Aaron. I roll my eyes and toss the phone on the couch. I walk up the stairs and run myself a bath.

**

Third Person POV

Things have been tense amongst the team, primarily because they know what's going on between Y/N and Hotch. "You and him are destined for each other. If anyone can get through to him, you can." Rossi says to Y/N as they converse about what happened last week.

"The one that has a better chance at that is you. He trusts you a lot more than he does me." Y/N explains. "Well I did train him to be the agent that he is today," "No it's more than that, Rossi."

"What did he say to you to make you completely disassociate yourself from him?" he asked and Y/N met his gaze without saying anything. "Y/N, can I talk to you in my office?" Hotch says as he walked passed the group.

"Well this will be fun," Y/N says before following him into his office. "Would you mind closing the door?" Y/N reluctantly comply and looked at him as she crossed her arms.

"You haven't been answering my calls," he folds his hands together. "We weren't working on a case." Hotch stands from his chair and walks to the front of his desk and leans against it. "I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry." "Are we done here?" Y/N asks.

"Come on, Y/N, just talk to me. We have to be able to communicate with one another." "Oh you communicated your thoughts clearly," Y/N says sarcastically.

"And I have nothing to say," she adds before opening the door. "'You aren't my family'. That's what I said to you. Now I'm assuming that those trigger the past trauma you had in the foster system. Correct?" Y/N turns back around but kept the door open.

"Yes, Hotch. And you opened the can of worms I tried so hard to keep closed. So now I have to fix it by myself as usual," "Y/N--" "You may be a profiler, Hotch. But there are some things that you'll never understand. Like wondering why my birth parents didn't want me, wondering if I'll find a home or a family that loves me."

"I do love you, Y/N. I just made a mistake." "I'll do everything in my power to make sure you find your family, Hotch. Promise." "You're not going to give me another chance are you?"

Without another word, she walks out of the room and take her messenger bag before leaving the compound. For the past week, Hotch has been experiencing nightmares about Foyet finding his family and killing them.

It ends the same way and he would always scream himself awake. He was tired of sleeping alone so he packed a bag and drove to Y/N's house.

He knows that she hates him right now but he also knows that deep down, she still cares about him. He pulled up into her driveway and knocked at her door. Y/N was in deep sleep but her dog barking incessantly dragged her out of it.

She put on her slippers made her way downstairs. She cracked the door to see Hotch and a bag on the floor. "Hotch, what are you doing here?" She asks as she pulled her robe closer to her. The temperature drop in the fall is no joke, it practically feels like winter.

" I didn't know where else to go,". Her Corgi, Summer, squeezed out of the door and scratched at his pants. Summer loved Hotch since the first time they met. Hotch picks her up and she licks his face.

"What do you mean?" "I've.. been having nightmares and I didn't want to be alone," he explains. "You were better off heading to Emily's." "I don't want Emily, I want you. You're my family, Y/N. I was stupid to-"

"Aaron, just stop. This is over. We're over." "You shouldn't have came here. Go home, Hotch." she adds as she takes Summer from him. Summer whined and Y/N closes the door slowly.

Y/N rested her head against the door for a moment before heading back upstairs. Hotch turns around and slid his back down the door. He sits on her porch and rested his arms on the knees. She lays in bed and stares at the ceiling in tears.

Why can't he just leave me alone? She thinks to herself. Her eyes were heavy and about to close when she heard Summer whining.

"Huh? Oh come on, Summer." That's when Y/N realized, she didn't hear Hotch back out of the driveway. She grabbed her alarm clock to see that it was nearly two hours since he stopped by.

She rushes down the stairs and opens the door. Hotch falls in from fatigue and tiredness. His skin was cold as ice when Y/N touched it.

"Dear God, Hotch, I thought you went home," she scowls as she drags him inside. "Summer, bring the bag in please." She grabbed the handle and dragged the bag inside. "Good girl," Y/N states. I close the door and lean Hotch against the wall. "Y/N?" He says weakly. "Hotch, honey, I need to help me get you to your feet okay?"

"I'm tired," "I know, just please." She attempted to lift him up by the arms. She braced herself to do what she learned in combat training. She squats down and pull his torso closer to her. She hunched her back and grab his arm to slide his body on her back. She groans in pain under his weight and take slow steps towards the couch with him on her back.

She drops him on the couch and immediately started to layer him up with with blankets. His skin looked light blue and his veins are popping out. "Jesus, Hotch. I am so sorry." She runs over to her thermostat and turned up the heat.

She opened the cabinet in the bathroom and grab the thermometer. She checks his temperature and pulls out the thermometerwhen it beeps. It reads 95.2, definitely in the colder side but not hypothermic.

"Y/N," he says weakly. "Don't talk. Save your strength. I'm making you some hot cocoa," she says from the kitchen. The water just finished warming up in the microwave and she dumps the chocolate powder into the cup. She stirs the mixture before giving it to him. She sets the cup down and sit down on the couch.

Y/N hands him the cup and said, "Drink this." Hotch gently takes the cup away from her and sips at the hot chocolate. He sighs in relief and she adds, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you stay out in the cold like that?" He sets down the cup and turned to look at me. "I couldn't let you go,"

"Hotch," "No, let me do the talking. I messed up big time and that nearly sacrificed someone I really care about. Haley and Jack are my family, yes. But you're my future." "There's no one else I vision myself, I--"

He trails of when I hold the sides of his face. "You're crazy, you know that?" He leans forward and presses a kiss on my lips. "Crazy for you," "Ew, stop, that was so corny," he chuckles before pressing another kiss on my lips. "I truly am sorry, Y/N," he says locking his eyes with hers. "I know, honey," she say, resting her forehead against his.

[benedictscanvas]

the future is bright (with you, my dear) - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death, serial killers, the general criminal minds stuff but nothing graphic

A/N: Okay, so, confession: this is very self-indulgent! I’m not very well, but desperately wanted to get something out to you so I’m sorry if the quality isn’t up to scratch! But I just wanted to write something super fluffy and comforting that could just wrap me up in a nice soft blanket. Hope you enjoy! :)

---

(ways to say i love you) number 16 = “it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyway”

The ticking of the clock in the hotel room was unrelenting. It wormed its way into your brain and stayed there, until you were hearing it echoing in your head and you didn’t even know whether it was real anymore. Eventually, after minutes, hours, you didn’t know, you huffed as you got out of bed and took the clock off the wall, taking it into the bathroom and putting it in the tub.

When you returned to bed and you could still hear it, it was only a few minutes before you returned to the bathroom and took the batteries out. You threw them in the tub angrily and practically stomped back into your bed like a child might.

The case was slow. Agonisingly so. You’d been here for days and yet you still felt no closer to catching the unsub than you were when you began, despite having three more dead bodies left in the woods since then. Some of you were tired, some of you were cranky and some of you were just pissed off. You found yourself a mixture of all three.

It was all swirling around in your mind, and you could swear you could still hear that damn ticking, so you only heard the knocking the third time it happened and a soft utterance of your name accompanied it. You recognised the voice, and it was the only thing that had you hopping out of bed, grabbing your long cardigan from the peg and wrapping it around yourself, only wearing a tank top and shorts in the hot climate.

When you opened the door, Spencer was already halfway down the corridor.

“Spence,” you hissed, watching him wince and turn around, “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, did I wake you?” he whispered and you smiled as you shook your head, beckoning him into your room so you could talk properly. Rossi, who was currently in the pissed off stage of the case, would only come out of the room and glare at the two of you if you stayed in the corridor any longer.

Instead, he followed you inside, still murmuring his apologies even after you’d sat him down on the end of the bed next to you. You crossed your legs on the bed and wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself against the chill of the cheap hotel.

“Spencer, seriously,” you said, resting a hand on his forearm to stop his mumbled rambling, “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

He paused at that and tilted his head in that adorable manner he sometimes did.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just can’t sleep. This case is…”

You trailed off but he nodded. He understood. He always did. People thought he didn’t always understand people, didn’t always pick up on things but in your experience? He picked up on your cues before anyone else, understood you better than anyone else. Best friends ever since you’d joined the BAU together, inseparable on and off cases: if there was anyone you wanted at your door when you couldn’t sleep, it was Spence.

“I know,” he said sympathetically, placing a hand over yours on his arm. He glanced behind him and looked back to you, a newly amused smile on his face, “Where’s your clock?”

You bit your the inside of your cheek.

“Never had one,” you lied, unconvincingly. It wasn’t your best work.

“All the rooms have one, Y/N,” he said, eyebrows raised as he stared at you. You muttered your answer incoherently, “What was that?”

‘It’s in the bath, okay?” you said exasperatedly, pouting, “That stupid ticking was driving me to distraction.”

He chuckled at you, shaking his head fondly.

“Of course it’s in the bath.”

“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “What are you doing awake? And here?”

His gaze was cast downward almost immediately, and you frowned. You squeezed his arm a little, because you were still holding onto it. You didn’t have the heart to let go, but luckily neither did he. It was nice to have a bit of human contact amongst all the human misery you saw day to day.

“I don’t know,” he said weakly, shrugging his shoulders, “I was just lying there staring at the ceiling and...well, I had a feeling you might be too.”

Now he was lying to you, but he was seriously trying to. It was a serious lie. Your frown only got worse, the lines of your face deepening. Now you did have the heart to, so you removed your hand from his arm and leaned back away from him.

“Spencer, why are you really here?” you said, the room changing all at once, but you added with soft eyes, “You never have to lie to me, you know?”

He was biting his lip and you just wanted to reach up and and pull it away from his teeth, run your fingers gently over his jawline, smooth out all the worry lines he’d gained since you met him. Sometimes, you wished he hadn’t seen everything he had seen, wished you could save him from it all. But sometimes, you also wished you could kiss him. Some things weren’t meant to be.

“I know,” he said guiltily, “Sorry. It’s stupid, though, and I don’t want you to think I can’t handle the case or that I’m not thinking clearly or-”

“I can guarantee that whatever your reason for knocking on my door, I’m not going to think anything like that. Ever, Spence.”

He looked at you with a look in his eye that you recognised as love. You knew it to be the completely platonic kind, but it made butterflies stir up a frenzy in your stomach regardless.

Ironically, platonic friendship was one of the furthest things from Spencer’s mind in that moment, but there was no way for you to know that.

“Okay,” he relented, “You know how me and Rossi went to the crime scene today? Well, when we pulled the sheet back from Shelly Peterson’s body there was a moment...well, it was such a stupid moment because I knew you were back at the station and we’d spoken on the phone not five minutes prior but-”

You sighed gently.

“She looked like me?” you interjected, nothing but kindness in your tone, none of the teasing he might have worried about or the wrinkled nose at the stupidity of his thoughts. None of that.

“She did,” there were tears gathering in his eyes and you had to will yourself not to cry right along with him, “A-and I just...I haven’t really seen you since because we were working on separate parts of the profile so I couldn’t sleep until I-”

He wasn’t finishing his sentences. It wasn’t unlike him sometimes, when he was a little shaken up, but it still worried you each and every time. You were so used to him being eloquent, beautifully so, speaking at a hundred miles an hour but still making more sense than people who spoke ten times slower. When he lost the ability to speak fully coherently, you knew he was really fighting an mental battle.

“Until you came and saw me?” you finished for him again, knowing he wouldn’t mind. They were words he couldn’t bring himself to say, but also ones that he needed you to know. You would happily say them for him if necessary, “Spencer, that’s not stupid.”

You had noticed your resemblance to the victim earlier that day too, but hadn’t said anything. JJ had given you a look but you’d brushed her off quickly, not wanting to draw attention to it in front of the team. They must have noticed too, it was hard not to, but nobody said anything. It went unspoken. For you, though, it had only been in pictures and you could imagine you might have reacted a little differently had you actually been at the scene like Spence.

“It felt stupid,” he said quietly, “I think Rossi thought I was losing it. I just kept...staring at her. And I knew she was Shelly Peterson, of course I did, but it felt like I was staring right at your dead body. Y/N, I don’t think I can ever do that for real. No, actually, I know I could never do that, I’m not capable, I think- I think it would kill me.”

His words were chilling. His voice got louder as he started finishing his sentences again. It was as if he was so determined never to have that nightmare become reality that he had to tell you now, he had to tell you right this second that there was no scenario in which you were allowed to die.

“Well, that’s okay,” you said confidently, not being able to help yourself when you reached up and took his chin between your thumb and forefinger, begging him to make eye contact with you, “Because I’m not going anywhere, Dr Reid, and neither are you. You’re not allowed to. I won’t have it.”

“But-”

“Nope,” you stopped him, because his thoughts were consuming him and you desperately wanted to bring him back to you, to this moment, here in the hotel room where the two of you were safe. Where the two of you were together. “Creating geographical profiles side by side, that’s how we’re going to live out the rest of our days. We’re going to go to crime scenes and trade theories away from the group if we’re not sure about them. We’re going to force each other to get a few hours sleep on the jet whenever we can.”

“Yeah?” his voice was still timid, but now it sounded like he was simply getting more overwhelmed with every sentence you spoke. You swallowed the sentimental lump in your throat and continued on, reluctantly letting go of his chin now that he’d dared to look at you.

“Yeah. We’re going to spend weekends together. In the park. At my apartment, at your apartment. We’re going to sit at our desks across from each other in the bullpen every day. Chat as we do paperwork. Get each other coffee. Eventually, I’m going to learn that however much sugar I put in will never be enough.”

“Would be great if you learnt that sooner rather than later,” he joked with a chuckle, even though there were more tears in his eyes. You swatted his arm playfully, your own choked laughter filling the small room.

“We’re going to be as old as Rossi one day, with a few grey hairs, and there will be new FBI recruits that ask each other in hushed voices, ‘Is that Doctor Reid and Agent Y/L/N? I’ve read all of their books!’ and we’ll sign a few of them if they’re lucky,” you explained, feeling a few tears of your own surfacing as you imagined Spencer with grey hairs around his temple.

You could picture him, years in the future, walking over to you on the jet and sitting down with that small groan that Rossi let out quite often when he sat down, a customary groan that slightly older people seem to do even if nothing hurts and nothing is stiff. Spencer would groan as he sat down and you would laugh at him, tease him for being too old for all this now, and he’d remind you of this very moment.

“We’re going to co-write books?” he said dreamily and you knew he was picturing scenario after scenario of your future now too. You hoped it might get the image of your dead body out of his mind, at least for a while, replace it with images of you laughing at his ridiculous philosophical jokes just because he thought they were funny.

“We are indeed,” you hummed happily.

“How do you make our job sound so...romantic?”

You hadn’t expected that, but you tried not to let it show on your face. Instead you just furrowed your brows in confusion and hoped he didn’t see the fear in your eyes at the prospect of being found out.

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” he said, seemingly unfazed by what he was saying, “We have one of the worst jobs in the world, see more evil than most people will ever even hear about, but you make it sound like we’re going to live out this...romantic ideal.”

You took a deep breath.

“Our job is awful...basically all the time, I know. But I suppose, on the occasion that it isn’t awful, it’s usually either because we save someone or because- well, because you’re around.”

Spencer paused, staring at you and your gaze drifted down to his lips before snapping back upwards again. He saw that. Definitely. Your tone had changed, but he was the one who had mentioned romance, so you were only following his lead, you told yourself.

Was he closer than he had been a second ago? Your mind was playing tricks on you. When he spoke, his voice was breathy and barely there.

“Sounds pretty r-romantic to me.”

You held your breath.

“Is that a good thing?”

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

“I think you missed some stuff out of our future,” he said and all you could think was that he hadn’t said no, not yet, and that if he was about to let you down gently then you weren’t sure you would cope, “I know we’re going to work together for the rest of our lives. Create profiles and catch killers and write books. But I’m also...I’m also going to love you for the rest of our lives. Do you think we could fit that in?”

You exhaled slowly, just so he wouldn’t hear how shaky it was. Your grin was infectious, clearly, because he was grinning too, you could see it through tear-blurred vision. You wouldn’t answer his question directly, he hadn’t answered yours after all, but you spoke up quickly to make sure he had no doubt about your answer.

“We could...go on coffee dates?”

“Movie marathons under mountains of blankets?”

“Kissing in the rain?”

“Kissing under the stars.”

“Kissing everywhere.”

“Moving in together?”

“Getting a dog? A cat?”

“Getting down on one knee?”

Voices growing softer and softer, the questions soon melted away into the dim glow of the hotel room and the future felt closer than it ever had before as you shared your first kiss.

(and your second, and your third, and your…)

---

tags: @justkurotingz @yes-sir-hotchner​

[kaminobiwan]

hush

pairing: captain rex  x  reader

summary: you witness a side of Rex he never wanted you to see.

warnings: nightmares in this one loves, and mentions of death in flashbacks. also the f bomb plus other bad words not found in canon

a/n: more?? angst? I’m sorry??? this was requested by the harbinger of feelings™ herself, @morganas-pendragons (who is partially to blame for all my sad ideas lately, thank you I am LOVING this chaos), as well as an anon who wanted to see Rex being calmed down. the anon request was actually from wayyy back from my first milestone celebration, and the prompt word was ‘hush’, for which this fic is named. I am so sorry that took so long lmao and I’m still not done with all of them. but at least this time, it’s hurt AND comfort?

takes place a little while before Lost in Translation. hope you enjoy the return of Rex :-) bloop here’s my taglist

Of course, the first time you witness one of Rex’s nightmares, it’s one of the worst ones of his entire life.

He’d curse the Maker if he thought there really was one. At least, one that listened to clones.

But not even a Jedi could have consoled him after seeing the expression on your face when you found him thrashing around in his bed. The way your eyes shone with pitiful understanding as you’d realized why he would always keep his hair short, no matter what, from the way he’d been tearing at his skull.

Before this, he’d been having a surprisingly good day. Torrent Company’s recon mission had been a success, and back at base, they’d seen Fives and Echo — fresh from ARC training and beaming with new armor yet again. Fives had protested indignantly at being called an ‘ARC Shiny’ while Echo had promised to buy Rex a drink the next time they were both on Coruscant, and then he’d dragged you to his room at the end of the night in a rare moment of laughter and flirtatiousness.

He should have known better than to think he’d get away with one full rotation of peace.

The nightmare comes unexpectedly, his muscles seizing as gunfire flashes behind his eyelids. He’s back on Kamino, the attack on his homeworld replaying in his memories.

So many clones had died. Cadets had died.

The image in his mind fast-forwards to the aftermath of the massacre. He’s overturning the body of a brother clad in familiar colors — it’s Colt, unharmed save for a single lightsaber singe through the chest and a faint lip print left on his cheek.

And then, he’s screaming.

It was her, the assassin from Teth, the one that had wormed her way into his psyche and moved his limbs for him like a puppet on string, toying with his sanity as his own appendages betrayed him. She did this.

Colt’s hands suddenly reach up and grab hold of his face, dragging him downwards, and Rex screeches in terror. “Let go! Colt!”

“We fight together,” Colt’s eyes are unseeing, reflecting death, but his voice is directed to Rex nonetheless. “That’s what we said. But where were you, Rex?”

Another body rises next to him, but Rex is too wild with terror to turn. He can’t look at another dead brother. “You’re not real! Stop! Colt, I’m sorry.”

“Rex.” The voice calls his name again, but this time, it changes from Colt’s into someone else’s. Not a clone’s. “Rex! Wake up!”

His eyes fly open, his fallen brother’s hands morphing into your own as he takes in your face, frantic and lamenting. It’s still dark, but not tinged with the red of alarm lights on Tipoca. You grip his face tighter.

“This is real. I’m real.” Your voice breaks as you press your palms to his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I need you to come back to me.”

He can’t speak — can’t even force his lungs to inhale an ounce of oxygen. His chest and throat burn with exertion, but he’s still gasping for air.

“Breathe with me, yeah? Come on, Rex. Breathe.” Where was Colt? Where were the bodies?

He can tell he’s hyperventilating, but it begins to subside as you hum comfortingly and bring his hands to his torso, instructing him to hold his breath and exhale slowly. Your words barely make it to his brain, but he complies numbly, feeling his stomach rise and fall.

“That’s it — there you go.”

Your voice brings him back to earth, and shadows that rim the edges of his vision slowly fade out. You continue to coax him down from the adrenaline of the phantom threat, and his breathing soon evens out.

It was just a dream.

You help him through the comedown for a while longer, making sure he’s still there. As the fragments of reality fall back into place, Rex thanks whoever is listening for your presence.

But as soon as he’s cognizant enough to notice the tears drying on his cheeks, and realize the fetal position he’d assumed in the midst of his thrashing, the panic is replaced with embarrassment, along with something worse.

Anger.

Immediately, he wrenches out of your grip, flinging your hand away in the middle of you stroking his bare back. He registers the hurt that flashes in your eyes, but he’s too irrational to feel anything but disgust — with himself.

You don’t know that, though.

“Rex?” Your gaze is questioning, positively dripping with concern, and it makes him even angrier. He feels like a child.

“Stop that.” He all but growls, and you wince as if he’s struck you. Rather than apologizing, Rex twists his body from you in a half-hearted attempt to hide his storm of horrible emotions. Guilt streaks the red-hot fury that eats at his chest, but he ignores it all. Pushes everything that isn’t cold-blooded indifference away. Get a grip.

Your voice is tentative and small when you speak again — stars, he hopes you’re not crying. He can’t handle that right now. “Stop what, Rex?”

“That look! Stop fucking looking at me like that.” He waves a hand around sharply as he responds, but still doesn’t turn to face you. “I don’t want your pity.”

A sniffle comes from your direction, and Rex shuts his eyes. Fuck. You are crying, and he can tell you’re holding it in as best you can so he can’t hear you.

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but he can’t help it. Letting you see what’s going on inside his head means dragging you into his mess of a brain, his mess of a life, and you don’t need that. Nobody needs that. You’re already more involved in it than he wanted you to be.

What he needs right now is to be alone. For you to leave, so that he can compartmentalize. He needs the isolation to numb the panic he feels still shaking his bones beneath his skin.

He needs to hide.

But just as he’s about to open his mouth to ask you to get out of his room, you’re shuffling out from under the sheets and standing between his legs, arms on your hips.

“I’m not pitying you, Rex. I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m tellin’ you not to.”

“Tough shit, Rex. You don’t get to decide.” You cross your arms assertively, and he finally looks up at you with similar ire. You’re glaring now, tears gone, but that patronizing compassion is still there. Rex shoves the thought down.

You’re not patronizing him. And yet, he just feels that way.

See, this is why he has to deal with these things on his own.

You call his name again, demanding him to pay attention to you. “You don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve, Rex, but don’t hide everything all away just because you’re afraid someone might actually care about you.”

His brows furrow defensively. “I’m not —”

“You are. You always do. Because you think you don’t deserve it.” Although you’re speaking softly as to not wake the others in the barracks, your voice is still colored with insistence. Rex would laugh at the contradiction if he wasn’t so shaken. “It’s not up to you to decide what you’re deserving of. You don’t get to tell me how much I should care. You’re the one that needs to stop being so hard on yourself.”

His head lowers as he tries to escape the weight of your words. “I can handle it. I was bred for this.”

“Stop believing that! It’s not fair.”

“Fair to who? You?”

“To you!” You retort, throwing your hands up to accentuate your frustration. “You’re human, not just a clone. If you don’t quit the one-man-army act and open up, you’re gonna explode.” You seemingly deflate, but come down to sit next to him once more. Your hand comes to rest on his, and he doesn’t move it. “How well will you be able to lead your brothers then?”

You’re met with silence, and he can’t think of anything to say to fill it.

Deep down, Rex knows you’re probably right. You sound like Kix, telling him to take care of himself so he can take better care of others, but Rex has never been good at listening to that kind of talk, never been good at cutting himself any slack. He’s not even sure he wants to.

He doesn’t know who he’d become without the responsibility of command.

You squeeze his hand inquisitively, voice probing. “Rex, it doesn’t have to be me, but it has to be someone.” He looks up at you again, feeling drained. He’s tired. “We all want to be there for you. You just…” Trailing off, you search his eyes for any sign of acceptance, and his pupils follow yours as you pause. “You have to let us.”

He knows you don’t have anything left to say, and now it’s his turn to speak. You expect that from him, at the very least. This connection between you, whatever it was, consisted of a give and take. That much, he understood.

Still, it takes him a while to respond.

“I want it to be you.”

Your head tips in question, but you say nothing as you allow him the time to work through what he’s feeling.

“If I open up…I want it to be to you.” He nods as if he’s confirming the thought to himself, and his eyes find yours once more. “Please.”

You stare at him, and for a second Rex thinks he’s said the wrong thing, but then you let out a wry laugh. “If? Rex, you better believe that I’m not gonna quit until you do. In fact, you’re not leaving this bed until you promise you will.”

The mood shifts to a lighter one as you end your threat in teasing, but Rex still feels the seriousness in your statement. Somewhere inside him, gratefulness blooms, but he’s not yet conversationally equipped to tell you that without it sounding wrong to him. So, he places his other hand on top of yours instead.

“Okay.” He breathes. “I promise.”

That earns him a small smile from you, and in his exhaustion, he leans forward, resting his head on yours and clumsily plants a kiss to your eye. Your arms encircle him right away, and he buries his face into your shoulder. Silently, he catches the familiar scent from the fabric you’re wearing, and a smile of his own spreads when he recognizes his blacks on your frame.

“I don’t know how.” Still nestled in your embrace, he croaks out a warning. “But…I’ll try. For you.”

“For you,” you correct him, and he closes his eyes with at the way your affection overwhelms him. “Like I said before. I’ll help you with the rest.”

When he falls asleep again, cradled by you, it’s not a dreamless sleep.

But the dream is a good one.

[babysizedfics]

9!!

9. romans discovers logan has a ticklish back. revenge is sweet

By now you all know the drill. I get a headcanon request. I have no self-control. It becomes another oneshot. Same old, same old.

NOTE: Set the morning after Roman asks Logan to read to him and he gets to spend the night in Mommy’s room!

oOo

Title: Vroom on the Bed 

Summary: Roman discovers his Mommy has a ticklish back. Revenge is sweet.

Word count: 2,500

Content warning: Swearing

Also on AO3!

oOo

The red toy car zoomed off a thick fold in the bedsheets. Roman held it in mid-air, making it do several flips before dropping it back to the mattress with a muffled thump.

‘That was terrible!’ he made his teddy bear, Aladdin, whisper.

‘What?’ he gasped back, offended. ‘My driver did the best he could considering -’

A loud snore cut him off. He hunched his shoulders and sucked his lips in a tight line. Rolling on his tummy a little, he got a glimpse of the figure that lay on the very edge of the mattress, since Roman was starfished out across most of it. Logan was, thankfully, still asleep.

‘Considering our limitations,’ Roman finished under his breath, nodding over to his Mom pointedly then sending a glare to Aladdin.

The teddy looked back with a beady, dead stare.

A quiet groan rumbled in the back of Roman’s throat. ‘I know that look. I know you wanna play in my room, but I wanna stay with Mommy!’ He shook Aladdin slightly to get his point across.

The toy was limp in his hands. A wave of disillusionment swept over Roman, all too aware of how childish he was being. ‘Stop being such a baby,’ he mumbled, unsure whether it was him or Aladdin speaking anymore.

Though he usually had a lot of fun being an independent kid and playing on his own, Roman was struggling to stay in his littlespace without one of his caregivers giving him attention. He really wanted to be extra little this morning - it just felt right after spending the night in Mom’s bed - but he hardly ever acted this young. He was out of practice and it was tricky to stay in character without Daddy calling him nice nicknames and without Mommy asking him lots of questions.

Mom really liked sleeping, though, and Roman knew no-one was allowed to wake him up in the mornings. So he had snuck back to his room for his cars and came straight back, ready to entertain himself! But he had been playing with the toys for what must have been hours now (later he would realise it was more akin to five minutes), and his head was starting to feel noisy and stuffy and his hands were jiggly. He was bored.

Being bored was awful. It hurt his head and made Roman’s legs itch, so he thought maybe Mom wouldn’t mind if he woke him up early just this once. Besides, he really wanted his Mom to play cars too. Or maybe he just wanted his Mom to watch… Actually, he really just wanted his Mom.

‘Mom?’ Roman whispered, sitting up on the mattress criss-cross-applesauce. ‘Mommy,’ he called, bouncing on the mattress slightly, ‘wakey, wakey.’ He had tried not to speak too loud but it came out a bit more booming than he had hoped. Mom shuffled on the bed but didn’t wake up. Roman pouted. ‘Mommyyyy,’ he whined, shaking Logan’s arm with both hands.

A sharp gasp echoed in the space between them. Mom’s face suddenly rose, his cheek flushed with crease marks from being pressed against the pillow all morning. ‘Hmph?’

‘Mommy, mommy, mommy!’ Roman rambled excitedly. Now his Mom could give him attention!

‘Hoosuh?’ Logan mumbled, face pinching and body swaying slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Kay s’art?’

Roman giggled, ‘What?’ Mom never made a lot of sense when he first woke up.

‘Who’s hurt?’ Logan tried again, his voice gruff and mumbled, but at least coherent now. ‘Are you ‘kay, sweetheart?’

The nickname already made Roman feel a lot happier and soothed the fizzles in his fingertips a bit. He felt littler again. ‘No, I’m just really, really bored!’

Logan blinked blearily at Roman, his eyes barely open past a tired squint. Then he collapsed straight back onto his front with a sharp sigh. ‘Inabit,’ he mumbled into his pillow.

‘Mommy, no,’ Roman whined, watching as Logan’s body instantly sunk back into the mattress. Within mere seconds his shoulders were rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. A noise of indignance wormed its way from Roman’s lips. Mom was asleep already?!

Roman crossed his arms tightly against his chest and pushed his lip out in a pout that would have definitely gotten Daddy to dote on him (if he was there to see it, that is). Mom was being mean. For a few seconds, he sulked, watching the curves of Logan’s back and shoulders and ribs. Then inspiration struck. Just because Mommy didn’t want to play with Roman, it didn’t necessarily mean Roman couldn’t play with Mommy. Logan’s arms and back were way better ramps than the bedsheets!

He smiled and bit the tip of his tongue as he quickly grabbed his toys. Hugging Aladdin to his chest, he scooched over on the bed, tentatively settling by his Mom’s side. First, he balanced the red car on the back of Logan’s shoulder. As soon as he pulled his hand away, though, Mom took a deep breath in his sleep and it made the car move. Roman’s heart dropped - until he saw that the movement made the car roll all the way down Mom’s arm to his hand. It didn’t even tumble off!

Roman smiled brightly and carefully picked the car up again, placing it in exactly the same spot. The same thing happened again, the car rolling down Logan’s arm without a hitch and landing softly by his hand on the bed. Roman giggled and grabbed the toy again.

‘Ingenius,’ he said in Aladdin’s voice, then hugged the teddy tighter.

‘That’s ‘cause I’m a clever boy,’ Roman bragged quietly, setting the car on a different spot on Mom’s shoulder this time. ‘Mommy always says so!’

‘Yes, I do,’ Mommy rumbled into his pillow.

It startled Roman and he gasped, jumping a bit in his seat. The car wheels squeaked quietly as they rolled again - this time down Logan’s back.

Mom started chuckling and reached behind himself to swipe the toy car off from his hip. ‘What are you doing, little prince?’ he asked, pushing the toy back into Roman’s hand.

‘Sorry,’ Roman said, but he was smiling again. Mommy had laughed and that always meant he was in a good mood and would play with Roman!

Dark blue eyes blinked open and Mom smiled at him softly. It made Roman feel giddy, and he scrunched and unscrunched his toes in the fluffy socks that “Santa” had got him. ‘You don’t need to be sorry, Roman.’ Mom dropped his cheek back to the pillow, but he was still awake and happy. ‘Do you want to tell me what you’re playing?’

‘Yeah!’ Roman immediately yelled, squeezing the car in his hand and bouncing a bit on his butt. ‘There’s a racecar flipping coolness contest and Aladdin is a really bossy judge and he’s really hard to impress!’

‘Oh my, that sounds quite stressful,’ Logan hummed.

‘Yeah, but not for me ‘cause I’m the best racecar driver ever and -’ Mom’s eyes were shut again. Roman glared at him. ‘Mom, are you gonna fall asleep again?’

‘Hmm,’ Logan hummed. ‘Probably.’

Well, Roman supposed he had to hand it to Mom for being honest… Except no, he didn’t!

‘You’re not allowed to sleep, you’re playing too!’

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were in charge of your Mom now, little prince,’ Mom said. It was kind of like being told off, but also kind of like Mom was sharing a joke with him. Sarcasm! Roman liked when Mom made big kid jokes with him. ‘What is my role in this game, anyway?’

‘You’re the racetrack,’ Roman proclaimed, smiling and setting the car on the back of Mom’s neck this time. His spine looked like a cool ramp to try next. He made Aladdin count down from three.

‘Oh, yes -’ Roman pushed the car down as Logan spoke, ‘- of cour-ha-horse!’ Mom’s mumble turned into a huffy kind of yelp.

‘Did it hurt?!’ Roman snatched the car away from Mom’s back, nervous that he would be in trouble.

‘Don’t worry, little one,’ Mom said calmly. His voice was back to normal. His eyes were a bit wider though. ‘It just itched a little, that’s all.’

That was weird. ‘Oh, okay.’ Roman shrugged and immediately started rolling the car over the ramp again.

Then Mommy’s whole body twitched and he started chuckling into his arm.

‘What?’ Roman asked, frowning a little. Was Mom laughing at him?

‘No, nothing,’ Logan assured, kind of breathless. ‘Maybe you shou-hould use the - the pillows as a racetrack instead.’

‘No, those are the spectators! The supportive friends! The fans!’ At the reminder that the fans were watching, Roman made the car do a cool skid to impress the imaginary onlookers.

There was a deep snort and the racetrack quivered under Roman’s car. Roman’s lips pulled up into a smile. Mommy was laughing! It was hard not to join in. ‘Mom, c’mon!’ he laughed. ‘What’s so funny?’ It was no fun if he wasn’t in on the joke too.

Logan was shaking his head, but his shoulders rocked with silent laughter still. It made the entire atmosphere of the room feel light and happy and it made Roman excited! He giggled and his whole body felt bubbly, especially his hands. Daddy called them happy hands. Roman rolled the car back and forth really fast on Mommy’s back, making the wheels squeak loads. Wait…

‘Ro-Ro-ho-man!’

It was Mom who was squeaking!

Roman looked down at the racecar rolling across Logan’s ribs, then back at the way Mom had buried his head into the pillow. Then he smirked.

‘Hello, is Logan ticklish?’ Roman teased in his usual baritone, completely grown-up all of a sudden. Despite not being little, he continued playing with the toy car.

The wild eyes that fixed on him as Logan snapped his head around were hilarious to behold.

‘No, ge-he-het little again! Little pri-ha-ha-ha!’ Logan broke down into deeper guffaws as Roman’s spare hand joined the car in skittering over his spine.

‘Maybe Karma isn’t such a bitch after all!’ Roman cried triumphantly, throwing his knee on top of Logan’s lower back to stop him from wriggling around so much. Logan may have had the height advantage, but Roman did fifty squats a day. They both knew Logan wouldn’t be able to shake off Roman’s leg.

‘Wa-ha-tch your mouth, li-little -’ Another snort of laughter cut Logan’s threat short.

‘Too bad you didn’t watch your back, huh, Specs?’ Roman laughed, readjusting the angle of his leg so he could reach Logan’s hip to see if that was ticklish too.

Logan literally tittered. This was just perfect.

Sure, Roman might have been a bit overly-enthusiastic, but he thought it was perfectly justified. This was payback! It wasn’t very often that Logan tickled him, but when he did he was utterly merciless. Patton had had to physically stop him a couple of times because Roman was so out of breath from cackling and wheezing!

Roman’s teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he heard Logan gasp for breath between laughter. What goes around comes around, and so on and so forth.

Then within a fraction of a second, long fingers wrapped firmly around his foot. It was at that moment Roman knew he had made a mistake. He threw the toy car across the room as if that would prove his innocence.

‘O-ho-kay, little one, you asked for this,’ Logan breathed, interspersed with distant chuckles. The warmth of Roman’s sock was swiftly pulled off and somehow just the cold air of the room was enough to make his toes tingle.

‘Mommy, I’m hungry,’ Roman hurriedly whined with what he hoped was an adorable pout. It was the most angelically innocent, childish voice he could possibly muster. He threw himself down onto the bed beside Logan.

But there was suddenly a warm, vice-like grip on his ankle and his lips started trembling with the effort not to smile in anticipation. ‘Can we pretty please go have breakfast?’ he asked a bit shakily, looking up to his Mom with wide eyes.

Logan laughed louder than he had all morning. ‘Nope, that face won’t work on me, little prince. I’m not your Dad.’ Surprisingly, his fingers actually loosened around Roman’s ankle.

For all of half a second, Roman thought he was being given the benefit of the doubt. That is until there was a light fluttering on the inside of his ankle and he fell into a stream of constant giggling. He kicked out but it did nothing to dislodge Mom’s hold and suddenly Mom’s free arm was pulling Roman into his chest. The fingers on his foot switched between fluttering over Roman’s ankle and scratching his heel and pinching his toes.

‘Mo-ho-mmy!’ Roman squealed, wriggling in his Mom’s firm embrace.

‘Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart?’ Logan asked very seriously, gently swirling a fingernail over the tip of Roman’s big toe.

Roman bucked off the mattress and positively cackled.

Logan was quick to just hug him tighter and chuckle, ‘I thought you wanted to play with Mommy.’ The arm that was keeping Roman secure in Logan’s hold curved and suddenly there were wiggling fingertips under his arm too. Roman screamed joyously, his cheeks aching so much they felt like they would cramp. ‘Don’t you want to play, Roman?’

It was almost impossible to think through the sounds of his own hysterical laughter, but Roman did his best. He did want to play with Mommy, but this wasn’t exactly what he had had in mind. Then again, if he said no, would Mommy never play with him again? It was a trick question!

‘Da-ha-ha-ddy, help!’ Roman cried out instead, feeling like there were a million butterflies chasing each other through his body. Honestly, he never wanted to stop smiling so much.

‘No, this is Mommy’s time with the little prince,’ Logan insisted, letting up in his ticklish attack enough so that Roman could splutter and gasp in some much-needed oxygen. Though he still giggled and squirmed as Logan’s fingers drew little spirals over the sole of his foot and the very edge of his armpit.

‘Besides,’ Logan said, pausing for dramatic effect. Roman giggled and looked up at his Mommy through tears of laughter. Mom’s cheeks were a bit pink and his lips were pulled into a wide smile and his eyes were sparkling with a mixture of mirth and mischievousness. It was quite possibly the happiest look he had ever directed at Roman. ‘We haven’t even finished our game yet!’

The tickling picked back up threefold. Roman writhed and howled and snorted and squeaked. But not a single protest fell from his lips because maybe this game wasn’t so bad after all. It wasn’t his game, but it was still a lot of fun. As long as Roman was with his Mommy, he was happy!

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!

[nighting-gale17]

i swear on my heart (he’s a good man)

Bobby had to admit, when he had been planning his night alone, he hadn’t really been expecting this. Buck had phoned for help and then immediately hung up before Bobby could figure out what was wrong. He’d sounded frazzled, panicked, on the phone, which had Bobby pressing down a little harder on the gas pedal.  

“Buck? Buck, I’m here, what’s wrong?” Bobby shouted as he walked in the door, shoving his keys in his pocket and glancing around.

“Up here!” Buck’s voice came from up in the loft and his panicked face appeared on the top of the stairs. “Bobby, I don’t know what to do.”

When it became obvious Buck wasn’t in any life-threatening danger, Bobby took a deep breath before walking up the stairs. “Kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. What’s got you so worked up?” He paused when he got to the top, though, his question quickly being answered for him by the state of the loft.

There were clothes strewn everywhere. Bobby wasn’t even sure if there were any left in his closet given the amount thrown all over the bed and the floor. Actually, now that he was paying attention to Buck pacing across the floor, the young man was wearing nothing but a white shirt and boxers.

“I have nothing to wear!” Buck agonized, running his hands through his already messy hair in frustration. “Eddie is going to be here in less than thirty minutes and I have nothing to wear. I’m gonna mess up our first date and he’s gonna realize how stupid this whole thing was and he’s going to regret taking me out and he’s never going to talk to me again—”

“Buck, you need to calm down.” Bobby walked over and put his hands on Buck’s shoulders, forcing him to stand still. The whole situation would be a lot funnier if it weren’t for the panic on Buck’s face and the tears brimming in his blue eyes. “Deep breaths, alright. Come and sit down.”

Buck managed to take a couple breaths while Bobby guided him to sit on the bed, but his eyes still had a bit of a wild look that he didn’t like. “Alright, start over,” Bobby said, crouching down in front of Buck and putting a comforting hand on his knee.

“Eddie’s taking me out on a date,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing. “I-I mean, technically, I asked him out, but he insisted on picking the place and picking me up,” he added with a fond roll of his eyes, chuckling nervously before continuing. “But I can’t decide what to wear and I… might have overreacted a little.”

“Maybe.” Bobby agreed. Yeah, the kid did give him a bit of a heart attack, but he understood. This relationship he had with Eddie, however it might evolve, was important to him, and he didn’t want to mess it up. “But it’s okay. Did I ever tell you about my first date with Marcy?” he said suddenly, hoping to distract Buck enough to calm down.

“No.” Buck sniffed, wiping at his eyes.

“I was an absolute mess,” he admitted, thinking back on the time fondly. “We were still in college at the time and my roommates took one look at me and said I looked like a ‘pre-law wannabe’ and made me go through five different outfits and an alarmingly large amount of hairspray.” At Buck’s confused look he shrugged. “I lived with my sister and her two friends and it was the 90s.”

“I really hope you have pictures,” Buck mumbled, a weak smile on his face.

“Unfortunately.” Bobby agreed, cringing a little inwardly at the thought of his horrible 90s fashion choices. Shaking his head, Bobby squeezed Buck’s knee comfortingly. “I was an awful mess. But it didn’t matter then, and I promise, Buck, Eddie is not going to care what you wear on this date. He cares about you, nothing else really matters in the bigger picture, okay?”

“Okay,” Buck said in a small voice. His shoulders seemed to lose a little bit of their tension and Bobby swore he would do anything to keep that look of absolute trust in those blue eyes.

“You still can’t go out in public with nothing but boxers on, though,” Bobby added, standing back on his feet and ignoring the way his knees ached in protest. “Eddie might not care but wherever he’s taking you might have a problem with it. Come on, up on your feet!”

The process of getting Buck into something they both deemed acceptable took longer than they thought, leaving just enough time for Buck to quickly fix his hair before there was a knock on the door. 

“Eddie.” Bobby greeted the other man when he opened the door, smothering the laugh he wanted to give at Eddie’s confused face. “He’s just finishing up, he’ll be down in a second.”

“Uh, okay?” Eddie questioned, his brow furrowing a little as he stepped inside the apartment. “No offense, Bobby, but what are you doing here?”

“Moral support.” Was all Bobby said before Buck was hurrying down the stairs, a bright smile on his face.

“Eddie!” he said, his face lighting up and a small blush graced his cheeks. “Y-You look great.” 

Eddie had to blink himself out of whatever stupor he had fallen into looking at Buck and smiled back. “Thanks, Buck, so do you.”

Bobby had to admit, the two of them did look good together. Buck’s gray shirt and slacks went well with his red scarf and blazer, accenting the darker blue and black tones of Eddie’s outfit. The tension was thick enough to cut a knife with, and as much as Bobby enjoyed watching Eddie shift under his gaze like a schoolboy, he eventually took pity on them and clapped Buck on the shoulder. “Well, go on, get out of here. Have fun.”

“Alright.” Buck laughed, turning and giving Bobby a hug as Eddie opened the door. “Thanks again.”

Bobby chuckled and pushed him over to Eddie. “Go, get out of here. Better have him back here by midnight.” Bobby said sternly, summoning up his best intimidating ‘dad-voice’ as Buck liked to call, feeling a little smug satisfaction at the way Eddie blanched a little under his gaze.

Buck rolled his eyes, already starting to usher Eddie out of the apartment. “Ignore him, he’s being ridiculous.”

“You boys have fun!” Bobby shouted down the hallway before closing the door to Buck’s apartment. For a moment, he let himself smile softly as he thought about how he used to think he would never be able to have this. Never be able to help his son get ready for his first date or see that soft, in love look on his face.

But Buck had wormed his way into Bobby’s heart and now, Bobby was going to have all these moments he had dreamed about, and more.

Shaking his head, Bobby decided since he was already here, he might as well use Buck’s kitchen to cook himself something for dinner. After all, he wanted to hear all about how the date went—and maybe be the moral support Buck needed in the rare, rare off chance that something went wrong.

xxx

When Buck finally came back that evening, Bobby was nursing a cup of coffee while watching a movie on the couch. Buck didn’t seem to notice him at first, closing the door softly before leaning against it, his eyes closed and mouth turned upward in a soft smile. There was a hint of flush over his cheeks and the content look on his face warmed something in Bobby’s chest.

“I take it the date went well?” Bobby asked, mildly amused at the way Buck startled.

“Bobby?” Buck questioned, blinking at him for a moment before shaking his head. “What’re you doing here?”

Bobby shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Well I’d already made the drive, wasn’t going to just leave before you got back. How’d the date go?”

“It was… really nice.” Buck admitted softly, looking away as that smile appeared back on his face. “We wined and dined, actually got to know him a little.” Buck echoed Bobby’s words from years ago, before adding with a cheeky grin. “Kept it in my pants.”

Bobby couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “That’s probably a good thing, Buck. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Buck asked, trying to sound casual but Bobby could see the small bloom of hope in his eyes.

“Of course, kid,” Bobby got to feet, setting the coffee down on the table and wrapping Buck in a tight hug. “You deserve to be happy, Buckaroo, and Eddie makes you happy.”

“He makes me really happy, Bobby. I think he might be the one.” Buck said softly, his words floating through the stillness of his apartment. “I don’t wanna screw this up.”

“You’re not going to screw anything up,” Bobby promised, squeezing the back of Buck’s neck lightly before pulling back and holding him by the arms. “You and Eddie are gonna be just fine, kid.”

The blinding smile that he got in return was something he cherished above all else.

[rpf-bat]

Underground, Getting Down

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 14. Prompt: “Symphony”. 

You’re a flutist, playing in the New York subway for tips. Gerard watches one of your performances, and decides that his next single, needs a mad flute solo. 

Beneath the streets of New York, the subway station bustled, filled with people. Some moved up the stairs, towards the streets, and others down the steps, towards the trains. Everyone in the crowd was rushing on to their next destination. At the base of the staircase, you stood, playing your flute. 

Your flute case sat propped open on the tiles in front of you. A few bills already lined the inside. A young woman dropped another fiver in, as you played Bach’s ‘Flute Sonata in A Minor’. 

You lifted your face from the instrument for a moment, to call out, “Thank you!” 

The woman had already turned away from you, rushing down the corridor to catch the E train. You shrugged, returning your lips to the flute’s embouchure hole. Even the best buskers, rarely made someone stop in their tracks. The song ended. 

I think I’ll mix it up, you decided, do something more pop for the next song. 

You picked the Bach sheet music up off your stand, placing it back in your bag. Then, you pulled out the sheet music for Jethro Tull’s ‘No Lullaby’.  This one was usually more impressive-sounding, when you had your friend, who played guitar, with you to do the intro. But, he was busy today, at his day job at Starbucks. You would just have to launch right into your solo. 

Your fingers danced over the keys, as the music echoed off the walls of the tunnel. You found your mind wandering, as you played. 

I really thought, when I graduated, that I was gonna play for the New York Philharmonic, you recalled wistfully. But, the auditions for first chair ended up being competitive as hell. Instead of playing high society symphonies, I just play out here, for the commuters and hobos. 

It wasn’t what you had dreamed of - but it was a living. 

As you continued your song, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You glanced up from your songbook, and realized that a man was sitting, eerily still, on the steps. Hurried people were practically tripping over him, but he didn’t move, to get out of their way.  He stayed exactly where he was. He didn’t look homeless, you considered. His face was hidden by thick aviator sunglasses, but his clothes suggested wealth. He was staring at you, with rapt attention, as if your flute, was the only sound in the world. 

You found yourself blushing under his steady gaze, as the song concluded. You lowered your flute-holding arm to your side, and looked at the stranger again, curiously. 

“Bravo!” he cried, clapping, and jumping up. “You were amazing!” 

He walked over, and dropped a handful of bills, into your case. 

Wait, what? All of those are hundreds!, you realized, eyes widening. Who the hell is this guy?

He pulled the sunglasses off his face, shaking his long, dark hair out of his eyes as he did so. Your jaw dropped, when you realized you recognized him. 

“Hi,” he said casually, “my name’s Gerard Way.” 

“I….I know who you are,” you stammered, scarcely believing this was real. Your inner emo kid was screaming. “What are you doing in New York?” 

“Visiting family,” Gerard shrugged. “Well, technically, they live on the Jersey side of the river. But, I always have to stop by Forbidden Planet, when I’m in town.” 

“Oh, you mean the comic shop, on Broadway?” you nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. I….I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Gerard grinned. “I really enjoyed that song, that you just did.” 

“I….uh, really enjoy your music, too,” you said awkwardly. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl.

“I’m actually working on some new music right now,” Gerard revealed. 

“What?” you blinked. “Really? Wasn’t your last album in like…..2014?” 

“Yeah, Hesitant Alien was four years ago, already!” Gerard chuckled. “I think I’m definitely overdue for something new!” 

“Oh, wow,” your heart hammered excitedly. “I can’t wait to hear the new record, when it comes out!”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna do a whole second album,” Gerard confessed. “I think I’m just gonna put a couple singles out, and see how it goes.”

“I….I see,” you mumbled. This was crazy. Why was he telling all this, to a random busker, that he just met? 

“I wanted to thank you,  Y/N,” Gerard went on. “There’s this song I’ve been working on, for a couple months now. it’s just not sounding right to me, quite yet. You helped me realize what it’s missing.”

“And, what is that?” you wondered, still feeling bewildered. 

“A flute solo,” Gerard grinned. 

“Huh?” you gasped. “Who uses flute music, in a rock n roll song? I mean, besides Jethro Tull?” 

“I love Jethro Tull,” Gerard laughed. “But, for real, it’s not that weird. Billy Corgan had some flutes on ‘Drum + Fife’, on the album Monuments To An Elegy.”

“Oh, true,” you remembered. “Didn’t that drop in 2014, too?” 

“Yeah, I actually got to open for him, on that tour!” Gerard said excitedly. “That was when I decided that I wanted to bring a flute into one of my own songs, someday.” 

“Wow,” you realized, “You’re serious about this.” 

“I am,” Gerard said, looking you in the eyes. “But….can we talk about this somewhere else? I’m worried if I stay in one place much longer, somebody is gonna spot me, and start asking for pictures.” 

“Oh, uh, sure!” you nodded. 

“I think if we go up to the street level, there’s a coffee shop, like, right outside,” Gerard suggested. 

“You’re…..asking me to get a cup of coffee with you?” you grasped. Was this a date?

“Yeah,” Gerard said, turning red, as he awkwardly combed his fingers through his hair. “Is, uh, is that okay with you?”

“......Absolutely,” you smiled. “Just let me put my flute away!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard had insisted on carrying your flute case for you, despite the short walk. He was such a gentleman. You did not, however, allow him to buy your cup of coffee for you. He’d already given you that absurd tip, when he first strolled over to your busking spot. 

You stared at him across the table, as he sipped his latte. This still felt entirely unreal. 

“So, the song I’m working on,” Gerard explained, “It’s called ‘Getting Down The Germs.’”

“...Germs?” you repeated, confused. 

“The lyrics are still a work in progress,” Gerard admitted. He dug into the pocket of his green coat, and pulled out a small, tattered-looking notebook. He opened it to a page near the back, and pushed it towards you. “This is what I have so far.”

You took the book gingerly, feeling as if you’d been handed a holy text. The words on the page, were written in a surprisingly untidy scrawl:

It's never the same and the nights always glow

There's nothing to see and nowhere to go

It's easy to say you're happier when you're disturbed

The green lights in your head

Getting down the germs

I'm lazy and tame and the chimes always blow

A glimmering sound on the breeze when you go

It's never a shame and I've learned to live with the worms

Underground

Getting down the germs

“That sounds really good so far,” you complimented. “I’m guessing that’s supposed to be the chorus?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “I usually write the choruses first. The verses, I’m still figuring out.” 

“Makes sense,” you replied, as you sipped your drink. “What about the melody?” 

“Oh, the melody’s pretty much completely done,” Gerard clarified. “But….I don’t know. There’s this bridge that comes before the second verse. I originally planned for that to be a guitar solo, but it just doesn’t sound right.”

“You think the solo would sound better, played on a flute?” you surmised. 

“Yeah, exactly!” Gerard said enthusiastically. You wondered if the caffeine was getting to him. 

“....Do you even know how to play the flute?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “But, you do.”

“....What are you saying?” you blinked. 

“That’s why I asked you to come up here with me,” Gerard explained. “Y/N…..would you be willing to go into the studio with me, and record a flute solo, for the track?” 

You choked on your drink. 

“Wh….What?” you wheezed, coughing from the coffee that had gone down the wrong way. “A-Are you serious?” 

“....Can you breathe?” Gerard asked, putting a concerned hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, I can breathe,” you managed, trying not to hyperventilate even more.  

“Good,” Gerard smiled, “because I am serious, Y/N. Your flute playing really impressed me. I won’t drag you all the way out to LA, of course. But, if I find a studio space, here in New York, will you work with me?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Oh my god, yes!” 

This wasn’t what you had dreamed of - it was more. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A few days later, you found yourself in a recording studio, in Lower Manhattan. You’d never seen so much professional equipment like this before. You’d always just performed for live audiences.

Can I really do this?, you asked yourself, hit with a wave of uncertainty. 

“Y/N, thank you so much for coming out here, and joining us today,” Gerard greeted you. His smile, somehow instantly put you at ease. 

“This is Doug McKean,” he introduced, indicating a man in the corner. “He’s my producer.” 

“Nice to meet you, Doug,” you said politely, shaking hands. 

“And this is Ian Fowles,” Gerard said, indicating a second guy, with longer hair. “He was my touring guitarist, when I went on the road with Hesitant Alien.” 

“Oh, I remember seeing him, when you guys played Irving Plaza,” you recalled. 

“You were at that little gig we did, in Union Square?” Ian smiled. 

“Yeah, of course I bought a ticket!” you smiled back. “You guys were amazing!” 

“Aw, you really think so?” Gerard reddened, looking flattered. 

“I really do,” you replied. My Chemical Romance had been your favorite band, since your teens. When they had broken up, five years ago, you had been heartbroken. But, you’d found Gerard’s solo work, to be equally amazing - just in a different way. 

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Ian said quietly. “Has Gerard explained to you, what we’re going to be doing today?” 

“Yeah, he said he wants me to do a flute solo for you guys,” you said, almost not believing your own words. 

“Let’s start from the beginning of the song,” Doug directed. “Ian, can you take us from the top, please? I know we got a great take of your part yesterday, but I feel like we can still do better.” 

“Definitely,” Ian agreed. He shrugged his guitar strap over his head, and stepped into the recording booth. You listened intently, as he played the opening notes. The tune was definitely different from anything MCR had done. But, it didn’t sound quite like Hesitant Alien, either. You were intrigued by the new musical direction that Gerard seemed to be heading in. 

“Alright, cut,” Doug called, pressing a button, to stop recording. “Ian, that was good. Gerard, it’s your turn to get in there. I want to hear that verse you were working on the other day.”

“Alright,” Gerard nodded. You watched him put his headphones over his ears, and timidly approach the microphone. A blush crept into his cheeks. Did it make him nervous, to have you, as an audience? 

“The answer’s always no,” Gerard sang, “to questions of a private nature…...the lights are always low, in settings of a conversation…..” 

He seemed to grow more confident, as the song continued. By the time he got to the chorus, he was belting it out. He sounded incredible. 

“....How was that?” he asked finally. 

“Amazing,” you breathed. 

Gerard’s cheeks reddened at your compliment. He stayed quiet, as he watched Doug take the vocal track, and mix it with Ian’s guitar playing. He played back the clip, of the two spliced together. The parts formed an even more impressive whole. 

“Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn,” Doug commanded. “Show us what you can do.” 

You gulped. You weren’t sure that you could do anything, that was on the same level, as what you just heard. 

“You can do it,” Gerard encouraged. “You played an amazing solo, in front of a whole station worth of people yesterday. Playing for three dudes like us, should be nothing.” 

That’s different, you thought to yourself. I don’t have a huge crush on everyone in the station.

“Here’s the sheet music,” Ian said, handing you a piece of paper. “I really like what Gerard’s composed here. But, I think he’s right. It’s going to sound better on your instrument, than mine.”

You took the sheet, and grabbed the flute case, out of your backpack. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the booth. Your fingers trembled on the middle joint of the flute. You glanced up at Gerard, who was sitting on the other side, of the pane of glass. 

He gave you a friendly smile, and a dorky-looking thumbs-up. You chuckled, your nerves dissipating. 

Alright, you told yourself. I got this. You brought your lips to the head joint, and began to play. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“I don’t know,” you said, as you stepped back out of the booth. “Do you think that was okay?”

“That was incredible,” Gerard gushed, pulling you into an impulsive hug. His arms were so soft and warm. 

“Like, wow, what are you?” Ian gaped. “The secret lovechild of Ian Anderson, or something?” 

“Ha, I wish,” you laughed. “I’m just your average band kid.” 

“I wouldn’t call that average,” Gerard insisted, staring into your eyes, as he still held you close. “I was right….the flute just fits perfectly in with the song. And you’re the perfect person to play it.”

“Y/N, I can show you what the guitar and the flute will sound like together,” Doug offered, “If you could, uh, let go of her for a moment, Gee.”

“O-oh, right,” Gerard stammered, releasing you quickly. You blushed, and turned away. 

Doug began to play the edited-together track for you. You couldn’t believe it - your flute, Ian’s guitar, and Gerard’s vocals, blended together, into something incredibly beautiful. 

“I wasn’t sure if the flute was going to go well, with your style of music,” you confessed. “My background is the symphony orchestra. Most of the time, you only really see the flute, used in classical music, like that. I wasn’t sure if you could make it sound rock n’ roll. But...it works! Somehow.” 

“It does,” Gerard agreed. “Y/N…..I’m so, so glad that I met you.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. It made your heart pound, for reasons you couldn’t articulate. 

“Y/N,” Doug said, bringing you back to reality, “that first take was great, but I’d like you to try it again for me, please.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. “I’ll give it as many takes as it needs.” 

“I feel like we could all use some coffee first, though,” Ian decided. “Doug? You want to run down the street with  me, to get it?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s our turn, since Gerard ran and got the last round,” Doug agreed. “Y/N - what can we get you?”

“Oh, just a vanilla latte, I guess,” you decided. 

“Coming right up,” Ian smiled. “We’ll be right back.” 

The guitarist and producer got up and left. Your pulse quickened again, as you realized, that you were now alone in the room with Gerard. It felt different, than it had at the station, or the coffeeshop. Both of those times, there were plenty of other people around. But now…..?

“It’s just you and me,” Gerard said softly. He was still staring at you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you said nervously. “I guess we got quite a day ahead of us, huh?”

“Yup,” Gerard said awkwardly. “Doug’s not gonna let you leave, until you get your part just right.” 

“.....Gerard,” you asked, “why did you pick me for this job? You could have gotten anyone to play flute for you. I’m nobody.” 

“I told you, your performance got my attention,” Gerard reminded you. “I was just passing through the station, minding my own business. But, when I heard the sound of your flute…..I stopped still. I was like, oh my god, this is the sound that I’ve been looking for.” 

“Was it really that great?” you asked, feeling unsure of yourself. 

“Yes!” Gerard insisted. “Y/N, I swear to god, it was like I was hypnotized. By that incredible sound….and by the beauty, of the person making it……” 

“Beauty?” you repeated, your face going hot. Did he mean…..?

“I won’t lie to you,” Gerard said softly. “The moment I laid eyes on you, in that subway tunnel, I was so attracted to you.” 

“You think I’m attractive?” you realized, eyes going wide. 

“Yes,” Gerard whispered, looking you up and down, with evident desire. “I’m sorry…..you probably think I’m just a creepy, older dude….” 

“You’re not creepy!” you shook your head. “Gerard, I’ve always thought that you were extremely good-looking.” 

“You’re…..attracted to me, too?” Gerard put two and two together. 

You weren’t sure which of you took a step towards the other first, but, before you knew it, you were in his arms. He kissed you gently, but your body quickly responded to him, and the kiss rapidly turned more passionate.

He pressed you against the studio wall, his hands trailing down your body, as the kiss continued. 

“.....G-Gerard,” you gasped. “The others could walk back in, at any minute.” 

“If they interrupt us,” Gerard said, his voice husky, “we could always continue this, at my hotel, after the recording session is over.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Gerard panted, as your lips found his neck. “Oh, fuck, yeah…..I got a room at a five star hotel in Times Square, that I would love to show you.”

“When do you have to go back to LA?” you asked, gasping for breath, as he kissed you again. 

“I’m supposed to go home on Saturday,” Gerard confessed. “But, if you keep kissing me like that….I might just miss the flight.” 

[cakelanguage]

Another gift I made for the Malec Secret Santa 2020, this time for yorit1 on AO3! It was my first time venturing into high school AUs, and it was actually quite fun. I hope you enjoy this goofy and fluffy high school au <3

You can also read this on AO3

--

Alexander Lightwood was different. He was nothing like his brother, Jace who was the star quarterback of the football team and a bit of an egomaniac at times. He wasn’t like his sister, Isabelle who was free-spirited and made a statement with her fashion choices and opinions.

No, Alec was quiet. He tried to take up as little space as possible no matter how much room he was given. Despite his towering stature he tended to hunch unconsciously. Like he was afraid he was always taking up too much room.

But he was stubborn and terse to the majority of people and doted on his family. He stood up for others and advocated for LGBTQ+ rights at school and outside it. He took in those who wormed their way into his heart with nary a thought but kept them away from knowing him besides the front he presented.

He was an array of contradictions that only made him more interesting in Magnus’ eyes.

And he stared. At Magnus. A lot.

Initially, Magnus hadn’t even noticed Alec’s gaze. He’d only realized it when Ragnor and Catarina had brought it to his attention.

“You’re being watched,” Catarina commented offhandedly, taking a bite of her salad.

Magnus smirked. “I’m always being watched,” he purred.

A groan echoed beside him. “I swear, if your head gets any bigger they’ll be no way to hide it,” Ragnor groused.

“I refuse to have this negativity within my eyesight.” Magnus made a shooing gesture. “Remove yourself at once.”

Catarina giggled at their banter before clearing her throat. “I’m being serious, though. You’ve been being watched by mister brooding over there.” She inconspicuously pointed to somewhere diagonally to them.

Not one to shy away from attention, Magnus whipped his head around to try and meet the gaze of his admirer. His eyebrows shot up when he met the gaze of Alexander Lightwood.

Alec seemed to have met his eyes too because his face reddened. The boy gave him a timid wave before ducking his head to gaze at his food, seeming to ignore the other occupants at his table.

Magnus would have continued looking at the bashful boy if his vision wasn’t suddenly obstructed. He squawked and turned a glower to Ragnor. “Are you really trying to cover my face up with a paper bag right now?”

His best friend grinned. “You were staring.”

“He was staring.”

“You wouldn’t have even noticed his staring if Cat hadn’t informed you.”

Conceivably, there was some truth to that. He wasn’t short on admirers so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t noticed one person’s attention.

He was curious to see how this would all play out.

It happened at a party.

A Magnus Bane party.

Magnus Bane had risen to popularity with these outlandish parties he threw while his father was away on his business trips. They were grand with drinks flowing in red solo cups and music blasting so loudly that they had the cops called on them more than once.

Magnus could easily party the night away. Immerse himself in the sweaty, hormonally charged throngs of his fellow student body. Ordinarily, he would.

But Alec actually came to this one and that wholly couldn’t be ignored.

The boy still hadn’t acted on what Magnus assumed was attraction to him. He merely continued to covertly admire Magnus from afar. The few times they’d talked, Magnus had reduced the boy to scrambled word-vomit. Alexander was bright red and Magnus was beyond flattered.

Here under the colored lights, the boy was a wallflower if he'd ever seen one. He stuck close to the wall and people watched with a dour expression. Magnus had seen people more excited about midterms than Alexander looked at one of his parties. And that wouldn't do at all.

Optimistically, this conversation would go better than their previous ones.

He saddled up to him with an extra cup of whatever brew Catarina had concocted and a charming smile. "Staying over here all by your lonesome, pretty boy?" Magnus inquired lightly.

Alec lurched beside him and looked at him bug-eyed. "What?" He asked.

"Well, you're denying the party-goers a fine specimen while you hunker to the shadows." Magnus couldn't tell if the boy was blushing with the colored lights gleaming across the room but his expression seemed flattered if not terribly shy.

It was adorable.

"I'm uh—My siblings wanted to come."

Magnus hummed thoughtfully and looked around the room until he spotted Alec's sister dancing amongst the crowd. "Ah, Izzy seems to be having a blast." He turned to Alec with a smirk. "I'm assuming Jace and Clary are making out somewhere around here."

Alec groaned and thumped his head against the wall. "I didn't even want to come." His eyes widened, and he jerked his head back to Magnus with his hands raised. "Not—Not that it isn't a great party because it is uh—everyone loves them and I—" he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Parties have never been my scene and it's just easier to stay on the sidelines."

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded, "or maybe you just need to keep trying." He handed the extra drink to him. "Start with something to drink. It'll do wonders to relax those tense shoulders of yours." And what gorgeously broad shoulders they were.

Alec shook his head and pushed the cup away. "Can't, I'm the designated driver."

Magnus arched a brow and poured the new drink into his original cup. "More for me, I suppose." He took a sip, ignoring the fire that licked his throat on the way down. "In the meantime, we might as well see if we can entice you into enjoying the party,” he set the cups down on a random table and held out his hand, “dance with me."

It wasn't a question and Alec recognized that but still, he shook his head. "Unless you want me to accidentally break your toes, I’m gonna… I'll just stay here."

"Pretty boy, I taught Ragnor how to dance." It'd been his own personal hell for half the summer but Ragnor had gotten significantly better at dancing enough so that he didn't look like he was suffering a seizure when the desire to dance struck him. "I'm sure I can teach you something."

Alec swallowed and looked around the room for anything that might help him. "I'm really not a good dancer," Alec insisted even as Magnus started to coax him from the wall. "I'll look stupid which means you'll look stupid."

Magnus waved him off. "Practically everyone looks silly when they dance, so you won't be alone there." He seized Alec’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Give it a try for five minutes, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Alec let himself be dragged to the dancefloor with consternation. “Five minutes and that’s it.”

This conversation was going lightyears better than their first few conversations. “If you want to stop, that is.”

He let go of Alec’s hand to grab ahold of Alec’s hips. “We’ll start with a sway, literally everyone can sway,” Magnus instructed as he started to sway his hips with Alec’s. He quickly directed their swaying to match the beat of the music. “See? Just gotta listen to the music; your body should pick up on the beat.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from somewhere in Alec’s throat as he bopped his head. “Yeah—okay, now what?”

“Arms, you don’t want to just flap them about.” You could knock someone out by accident if you did that. “Though if that’s your style, we can work with that.”

Alec raised his arms, shifting them side-to-side like muscled windshield wipers. “This?”

Magnus threw his head back and laughed. “God no, that’s—“ Magnus dissolved into another fit of giggles, waving a hand at Alec, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Alec scowled. “Then show me how to do it,” Alec commanded.

The scowl on the boy’s face resembled more of a pout than anything scary so Magnus figured the boy wasn’t too bothered by his laughter.

“You have to loosen up. You’re too tense!” Magnus ran his hands down Alec’s arms, relishing the shiver that ran through Alec’s body. “Relax your shoulders.”

“They are relaxed.”

He quirked an eyebrow and massaged at Alec’s shoulders feeling the tight muscles jump and release under his ministration. “Darling, I’ve seen assholes looser than your shoulders.”

Alec wheezed, his face twisting up, and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s—why did you have to say it like that?” Alec groaned with a snort like he couldn’t decide whether to be upset or laugh at Magnus’ comment.

A Cheshire smile spread across his face. “I’m not wrong.”

Alec flushed, his eyes settling everywhere except Magnus’. “Well, I’m relaxed now.”

“Good, now just watch me for a moment.” He winked, biting his lower lip. “Try to keep your gaze virtuous.”

The laughter that tumbled out of Alec was beautiful and something he’d never heard before. His laughter echoed between them, somewhere caught between rough and warm. He’d never heard the boy laugh before.

But he wanted to hear it forever.

Magnus swayed his body, gyrating his hips and moving his hands up his body, letting them move with him. Lidded eyes gazed at Alec who’d stopped dancing altogether and was just staring at him with a familiar intensity.

“Feel free to admire me.”

Alec grinned and shook his head, already miles past his original comfort levels. “Thanks for the consent.” He crossed his arms and gave him a look. “You want a complete too? I feel like your fishing for one.”

“I very much am fishing for compliments,” Magnus said, “I’m just waiting for the hook to pick some up.”

“Normally people don’t admit to fishing for compliments.”

“Normal is subjective, Alexander.” He beckoned Alec over. “Now come join me, let that body talk.”

Alec shook his head again as he walked back over. “You’re so weird.” But his voice was husky belaying his real feelings on Magnus’ behavior. He clumsily joined Magnus and was soon following the beat more or less.

Magnus had thought this would be an innocent folly – just figuring the other boy out – but he found he was having fun. Alec's inexperience and awkwardness were endearing, and Magnus couldn’t turn his gaze away.

And he didn't want to.

He wasn't even sure what it was about Alec that drew him in. Magnus lived for partying, standing out, and being unashamedly himself. He wore glitter and sheer shirts that got him dress coded constantly.

Conversely, Alec was an introvert who orbited around the ones he loved. He'd started an archery club and followed all the school rules to an alarming degree. The only thing Magnus had thought stood out to him about Alec was that he was openly gay.

But just from his interactions with the boy tonight had revealed a hidden charm behind that stoic front. He had a laugh that made Magnus' heart skip a beat. His smile lit up the room way more than the assortment of lights did. He could dance only marginally better than Ragnor could now – which wasn’t saying much – but it made Magnus enjoy dancing with him all the more.

Just these observations made him wonder why he’d never noticed Alexander Lightwood before.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alec interrupted, nudging him in the side.

Magnus shook his head from his previous thoughts. “My thoughts are worth plenty more than a penny,” Magnus sniffed.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Offer still stands.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Magnus put his arms around Alec’s neck and slowed their dancing down to a sweeping sway. “You’re more than I expected when I came over to you.”

Alec frowned. “More...?”

He shook his head. “I mean that in the best of ways,” Magnus reassured. “There’s just something about you, Alexander.”

Alec ducked his head down sheepishly. “There’s uh… something about you too.”

Magnus grinned, running his fingers through the short strands of hair at the back of Alec’s head. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.” He chanced a look around the room his eyes zeroing in on the clock before turning back to Alec who was finally looking at him again. “It’s been more than five minutes, still want me to leave?”

Hands grabbed at his hips as Alec leaned his head closer. “Please stay.”

Any quieter and Magnus would’ve missed Alec’s plea, but his grip on Magnus was telling enough. “Only if you’ll keep dancing with me.” Magnus gave Alec an exaggerated pout.

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “Stop being so cute.”

“Can’t, darling,” Magnus sighed, “it’s a curse.”

At this point, Magnus could feel Alec’s breath against his lips. With each moment his restraint grew smaller and smaller. He doubted Alec would gather the courage to mention his feelings. But he wasn’t going to wait for the other boy to make a move first. “Maybe this is the alcohol talking, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Alec’s breath hitched, and for a second Magnus thought he’d ruined their moment until Alec let out a pleased sigh. “I – you uh… If I let you kiss me,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “You have to let me take you on a date.”

Magnus’ face lit up. “You wanna take me on a date?”

The tips of Alec’s ears practically glowed. “I’d like to.”

“I think,” Magnus drawled, twirling a piece of Alec’s hair, “that would be more than okay.”

The other boy’s mouth gaped and he seemed caught between awe and joy. Alec pressed their foreheads together. “So do I get that kiss now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Magnus bumps his nose against Alec’s. “How are you feeling about parties now?” Magnus inquired. He genuinely wanted to know if Alec’s opinion had changed.

Alec hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. “I won’t say I like them, but I got to spend time with you.” He brushed his lips against the corner of Magnus’ mouth. “So if you’re there, I can see the appeal.”

“Sweet talker.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. Alec’s lips were dry and deliciously warm against his. Just like his dancing, Alec’s kiss was inexperienced and their teeth clanked together before they got the right angle. Magnus led the kiss, coaxing Alec’s mouth to move with his own. It was hungry and sweet and profoundly earnest.

It was perfect.

Reluctantly Magnus pulled back to let them both breathe. Alec tried to chase his lips for a moment longer, eyes still closed as if he thought he’d open his eyes and Magnus would disappear.  Eventually, Alec did open his eyes, and quiet awe transformed his face.

“Would it be greedy to ask for another?” Alec asked between them, their lips still barely an inch apart.

“Terribly greedy,” Magnus chided with a grin, “But if you take me to that Thai place four blocks from the movie theater I’ll happily give you another.”

Alec laughed, their noses nudging against each other’s. “Promise?”

No answer was needed; his kiss was enough.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1  C.2  C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict. 

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.  

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check! 

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding. 

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well. 

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him… 

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance. 

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all. 

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin. 

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!” 

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?” 

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course). 

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright. 

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. 

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin. 

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal. 

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-”

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap. 

There laid a rat. 

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face. 

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away. 

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry. 

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus. 

Remus’ smile dipped lower. 

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!” 

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still. 

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach. 

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop. 

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful. 

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train. 

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all. 

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret. 

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck. 

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open. 

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow. 

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively. 

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now. 

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first… 

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do. 

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[writerbyaccident]

Inconvenient Clarity (Yandere Katsuki BakugouxReader)

“There’s no way in hell that’s true!”

           The sound of your voice, of your laughter, reached Bakugou easily, the clear sound positively ringing in his ears. Scowling to himself, his bloodred eyes dug into the back of your head as he glared at you. Despite the fact that you and Bakugou were separated by at least five other students, the distance wasn’t nearly enough for him. Fucking hell, wasn’t it bad enough that he was forced to sit right behind you in class? Did you really have to annoy the shit out of him in the goddamn lunch line too?

           The memory of your laugh echoing endlessly in his head, Bakugou did his best to grit his teeth and keep moving so he could just get his lunch and get away from you. But still, he knew from experience that even if he managed to find a seat in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, you would still somehow find a way to worm your way inside his head, capturing his attention like a spider would a fly. Honestly, if Bakugou didn’t know any better, he would have thought your quirk was just the ability to piss him off. Things were never that easy though, so instead he was stuck wondering what it was about you that got under his skin like this. It wasn’t that you were dumb or lazy or weak, all qualities that were a surefire guarantee of earning Bakugou’s disgust. Whatever it was about you that clawed into him and refused to let go seemed nearly impossible to place.

           “I swear it is,” came another voice, this one also familiar—though of course not nearly as familiar to Bakugou as yours. Glancing back over to where you stood, Bakugou saw that you were talking to another Class 1A member, that tail guy. What was his name, Ojiro? Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the sight of you two joking with each other, as far as he was concerned, anyone who could stand your presence was just as deserving of his disdain.

           But thinking it over, Bakugou realized, Ojiro might be even more worthy of his contempt than you were. At least you made an impression on him, after all, whereas that bland, blond friend of yours was a complete and utter extra. Ojiro was like a background character in a kid’s coloring book, one that was so hidden and had so little to add that kids wouldn’t even bother coloring him in. Smirking at the comparison, Bakugou began to watch you more closely. Now that he had thought of it, he really had no clue why you bothered hanging out with Ojiro at all. Sure, you could be annoying as hell sometimes, but still, Bakugou had to admit that you were unique. And yeah, you were constantly distracting him, whether it was with your voice or your laugh or your smile, but wasn’t that to be expected with the way that you burned? So then, why the fuck did you decide be friends with a guy whose tail was even boring? Really, Bakugou thought to himself, if you were going to bother hanging around anyone, it should really be—

           “Careful!” Ojiro’s voice suddenly cried, cutting sharply through Bakugou’s thoughts. Without fully realizing what he was doing, Bakugou started to lurch forward as he saw you beginning to lose your balance on the slippery cafeteria floor. But before he could even hope to help you, Ojiro reached out, taking your waist in his steady hands, and Bakugou’s heart stopped.

            Oh, shit.

           Fuck.

           Fucking shit.

           Despite the fact that Bakugou’s heart had suddenly ceased beating, every drop of his blood commenced in racing up to his head, flooding his skull until his eyes were swimming in the sight of it all. And as his fists itched to throw themselves at Ojiro, and as his fingers demanded to wrench you out of Ojiro’s grip, Bakugou suddenly understood just why he had never been able to get you out of his head. He loved you. He fucking loved you. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t about to just walk up to you and confess like some sappy little shit.

           Still, Bakugou wasn’t just about to ignore his not-so-little epiphany either. He had never been one to deny himself what he wanted, for as far as he was concerned, he was the best. And as the best, he deserved whatever it was that he wanted. He would just need to figure out the best way of doing so, especially considering the worthless shit that currently held the attention that rightfully belonged to him.

Figures, he thought furiously as he watched you thank Ojiro for “saving” you, that he would realize it right when you had another guy’s arm around your waist. Still, he told himself as he made his way to a table, glaring at you two all the while, that didn’t mean he would let Ojiro get away with it.

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