#Brandon Flowers smut

[thegettingbypt2]

Requests are open!!

Currently taking requests for:

Steve Harrington/Joe Keery

Johnny Knoxville

Brandon Flowers

#Steve Harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x reader #Joe keery #Joe keery smut #Joe keery imagine #Joe keery x reader #Brandon Flowers #Brandon Flowers smut #Brandon Flowers imagine #Brandon Flowers x reader #Johnny knoxville #Johnny knoxville smut #Johnny knoxville imagine #Johnny knoxville x reader #request #smut #fluff

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Seeded and Sore

aemond x niece!reader

A/N: fufilling a request, hope you enjoy love

word count: 1,347 words

TW: smut, DUBCON, spanking, incest, threats of violence (not to reader), breeding kink, slight knife kink, virginity loss, rough smut

“What are you wearing?” Aemond asks as his eyes rake over your figure. Your beloved betrothed often has issues with how you dress, the issues specifically relating to the sparse coverage the fabric provides your body.

“A dress.” You say. “ You know, kepus, with how much people drawl on about how clever you are, I would have expected you’d recognise the garment.”

“I don’t believe most people would consider that even half a dress, riñītsos.” little girl. “Change.”

Ever since you were engaged, Aemond has made a habit of ordering you around. Neither of you enjoy the arrangement but since he is a handful of years older, and a man, your uncle has decided that you must adhere to being the perfect little wife.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember the marriage bells tolling. So why are you commanding me as if I am your wife?” You ask defiantly. 

“Because you are a brat who doesn’t know what’s good for you. Princesses don’t go around dressed like common whores. When you become my wife, I will not tolerate such behaviour.” He says to you and you try not to giggle at how he attempts to flaunt his power when you know for a fact that he is pitching a tent in his pants at the same time.

“Of course, uncle.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone before walking off to where the jousts are happening, with no intention of changing your gown on the way.

~~~

Ser Brandon, that’s the name of the cunt you give your favour to. Aemond likes to think that for duty’s sake, you’d give him your favour if he’d competed. But he knows that you give about as many shits about duty as he does tourneys.

You smile at Ser Brandon and giggle at him flirtatiously before you toss him the wreath of flowers. Aemond pays close attention to the way your breasts are pushed up as you bend over the railing and say something only loud enough for the knight to hear. The encounter fills his whole body with lust and rage.

“What did you say to him?” Baela asks you, ever the gossip.

“I told him that if he won, then i’d give him much more than my favour.” You say and Baela gasps at the scandal as you both giggle about it together.

Your uncle’s blood boils. Surely you didn’t intend for him to hear that? But he knows how you are and he knows just how to put you in your place.

~~~

You jump as the door to the library bursts open. “Everyone out!” Aemond shouts and the few occupants leave, quickly obeying the angry prince. Not you though; you know the demand didn’t extend to you.

“My my, uncle. What has irked you so?” You ask him in a condescendingly sweet tone as you rise from your chair.

He strides over to you and grabs you by the chin and you gasp softly. “Do you think that you can make a fool out of me, niece?”

“I must misunderstand you. I would never try to make you look foolish.” You reply calmly.

“Hmm… then why did you offer to fuck another man right in front of me?” He asks, matching your calm tone which makes you nervous enough to drop your eyes. His hand moves to the back of your head and he grips your hair tightly at the roots, pulling your head back so that you have to look up at him. “Look at me when I speak to you.”

“Let me go.” You pout a little and grasp at his arms in an attempt to make him release you. He yanks your hair harder and you aren’t sure if you moan in pain or pleasure.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” He says seriously. “Do you understand? No other man will touch you.”

You stay defiantly silent.

“I will make you understand then.” You don’t have a chance to contemplate what he means before he drags you to the nearest table in the library and bends you over it.

“What in the seven hells are you doing?! Let me up now!”

“Be quiet now, riñītsos. We wouldn’t want to draw anyone in when you’re in such a state, now would we?” He says as he pins your hands behind your back with one hand and unbuckles his belt with the other. “Do you know what i’m going to do to you with this?” He asks as he places the belt on the table and lifts your skirts. “Do you know how common girls are punished when they’re naughty?”

“Aemond don’t!” Your protests are met by a whip across your ass by the belt.

“I told you to be quiet. I have been far too lenient with you and now it’s time for proper punishment.” He spanks you again with the belt and you whimper but don’t say anything this time.

He pulls your smallclothes down so you’re bare from the waist down and you squirm at the embarrassment of your handsome uncle disciplining you in such a way. He admires the way your cunny is glistening with wetness. 

“Let me go you bastard!” You say, humiliated by your own arousal.

“Oh do you like this, riñītsos? Do you like it when your uncle gives you what you deserve?” He gives you another swat with the belt and the pain intensifies with the lack of protection your smallclothes provided.

“I’m sorry.” You whine out softly, trying to end the punishment but he continues. “I promise I would’ve never let him touch me.” He scoffs at your words and you feel him roughly bind your wrists together with the belt.

The sound of his dagger being unsheathed rings through the air. “If he ever comes near you again, i’ll slit his fucking throat.” He cuts your dress from halfway up the bodice down to the hem so he doesn’t have to hold it up anymore. You then hear him fiddling with his trousers. “He will know who you belong to soon enough, when your belly swells with my babe inside of it.”

“No you canno-” You begin to struggle and protest when you hear what he says but your words are cut off when his thick cock is thrust into you and he quickly sets a tempestuous rhythm, fucking in and out of you like you are nothing more than a cock sleeve. He grips your hair roughly and yanks your head back so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Do you know what i’m doing to you right now? I’m ruining you. Nobody will have you after this but me.” His hips continue to meet yours and you let out a little moan. “I’m going to fill you with my seed everyday for the rest of your life. Any stranger who comes by will know you’re mine when they see our silver haired children clutching at your skirts. The children I put inside of you.” 

His cock continues to slam into you mercilessly and you can do nothing except lie there and take it.

“Kepus…” You breathe out when you feel yourself steadily climbing to your peak.

“Gods, you’re gripping me like a vice. So much big talk for a girl with a virgin cunt.” He laughs at you and gives your ass another slap. “It’s okay, riñītsos. I’m going to fill you now, fill you nice and deep.” He gives a few more slower thrusts before spending himself inside of you, the feeling of his cum filling you causing you to reach your own peak as well.

He lets you rest for a moment as you breathe heavily before he unties you but only so he can put his belt back on and make himself look presentable. He tosses his cloak to you so that you might cover yourself.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, niece. I shall speak to your mother about us marrying on the morrow.” He says as he walks to the door. “Oh and one more thing. Don’t even think about drinking moontea.”

taglist(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd #aemond #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond targryen smut

[lively-potter]

—moon struck ; part three

— genre ; strangers to friends to lovers, kinda grumpy x sunshine, fluff, angst, smut, angst with a happy ending 🥹

— warnings ; body insecurities ( mentioned ), eating disorder ( mentioned ), oc deals with a severe amount of anxiety and panic attacks, violence, smut ( later ), FLUFF, love struck jungkookie 🥹

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— word count ; 1.5k

— intro , part one, part two

— 2024 © LivelyPotter

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

***

river's pov ; the next day

I liked having a sense of complete control over my life and the things I did.

It wasn't completely true, but I pretended I did anyway.

Carefully holding the icing bag, I gently squeezed the bag and started moving my wrist in a circular motion to perfectly swirl the rainbow buttercream icing along the outside of the red velvet cupcake, I smiled to myself.

I had complete control when baking and decorating delicious treats – sometimes I messed up the measurements, but that was rare.

Poking my tongue out, a gesture I did to steady myself, I carefully crafted petals along the inside of the rim and soon enough, I had a perfect rainbow-colored flower.

"Oh damn!" a familiar voice exclaimed from behind me, making a squeak leave my lips the moment my brother, Brandon, reached in front of me and snatched the final cupcake from my hand. "These look good, Pixie–Mhm, and taste good too."

Cringing away from the man in front of me, a piece of red cake came out of his mouth and hit my nose. "Ew! Brandon!" I screeched out a laugh and he took my short – pixie-like frame, hence the nickname – and gave me a noogie.

"Dude!" I pushed him away, "Wern't you the one who taught me to chew with my mouth closed?"

Brandon watched me, amusement notching his brow as his cerulean blue eyes – that matched mine and Corey's – glinted in amusement. His big hand, dotted with black oil that he more than likely got from tweaking his motorcycle, ruffled through my hair and grinned wolfishly.

I rolled my eyes and giggled, turning back around to place the baked treats in a glass cake dish.

"Sooo..."

"You going to scold me for running again?" I cut him off, my three-month-old Australian shepherd, Kingston, yipping happily at my feet once I finally leaned down and gave him a pet along with a small dog-friendly baked treat.

"No," Brandon walked to the other side of the counter and braced his hands on the counter, looking down into my eyes. "I'm not going to judge you for it. That's Corey's job." he snickered, a soft smile coming upon his face.

I softened my defensive stance and quirked my lips. "Really?" I laughed along with him before becoming more serious. "It's just...instinct. Plus, he's scary."

"I know right!?" my older brother agrees, taking on his pale hair, "That dude just gives off that 'look at me the wrong way and I'll fuck you up', and I'm not going to lie and say I'm not intimidated by him. The dude's taller than me and that's saying something. A fucking beast, that man is, ya know?"

"Exactly," I snorted – before I met Jungkook, my brothers were the tallest men I'd ever encountered – besides Silas that is. And Jungkook was a good inch maybe even two inches taller than my brothers.

"But he's really nice...and gentle when he speaks." and that face is nice. That body is nice. And oh god, even his voice is like heaven on earth – wait...what was wrong with me? I shouldn't be thinking this.

I avoided Brandon's eyes once shuffling was heard at the front door. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced a tiny smile.

"I understand you not wanting to get close to him," Brandon ignored the apartment door opening and clenched his jaw. "The man's got baggage...and you're so young to be tied down to all of that."

I jerked back.

Baggage?

What in the dingleberries did he mean?

Moon?

"Moon is not baggage –" I went to argue but I was cut off as an energetic Atlas hollered happily, entering the kitchen.

"Oh hell yes! CUPCAKES!" he squealed like a child, the longer tufts of his dark hair falling into his eyes once he skirted past me.

I threw back and laughed as Brett followed after him – dressed entirely in black but her Gucci golden belt tied the entire outfit together as she threw her arms around me and smirked.

"So tell me what happened last night when that Jungkook picked up Moon!" she said, pulling me from the kitchen. I fought against her playfully as a blush arose on my face at the mention of Jungkook.

Brett would grill me for hours until Mr. Blackbourne or North ordered her to get her butt back home.

Since her accident a year ago; they'd been hesitant to allow her out of their sight, but since I had their full trust, and respect hopefully, the Blackbourne Team trusted me to keep her safe.

Brett's blonde hair smacked me across the forehead as she twirled around and threw her curvy body across my lavender bedspread.

"ATLAS!" she let out a shout at the same time I jumped a foot in the air and slightly glared at her for scaring me. What was with all of these people and scaring the life out of me?

She sent me a 'sorry' look, "Your bitch ass better save me one of those cupcakes or I'll tell Wil to beat your ass the next time you're looking to get fucked!"

"Oh my god." I whimpered into my hands, falling onto the bed.

Yes, this was my life.

***

third pov ; jeon jungkook

"This looks great, man! Thanks!" a man around Jungkook's age exclaimed happily, observing the large tattoo of a dragon with green highlights along the curve of his calf. "This looks sick!"

Jungkook held in a wince as he stood up from his stool and stretched his back. After hours of sitting down, shoulders drawn down, it was a wonder he hadn't developed a crick in his neck.

"I'm glad you're pleased with it." Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle when he was discarding his gloves and washing his hands once his area was sterile once more and ready for another customer.

Working today was a welcome distraction since he had been in a foul mood when he dropped off his baby at the daycare center – hoping to see the woman that had plagued his mind in the best of ways since he saw her angelic face. He was sorely, and furiously mistaken when he realized she wasn't there.

It was only Sang and Kayli there today. No River.

Jungkook rubbed a tattooed hand across his face and let out a sigh as his client left the room and he plopped down on the sofa across the room and stretched his sore muscles.

He wasn't the only one who was severely upset by River's absence, but his little Moon was too. Crying a river — pun intended.

He had hope, since yesterday evening — since they had spoken ( it wasn't enough, in his opinion ), that she would be there.

He hoped she would smile for him today.

Took him forever to calm his baby enough for her to allow Sang to pluck her from his caring, protecting arms.

A smile rose on Jungkook's lips when he eyed the clock on the wall.

But he did get one piece of usable information from River's best friend.

River had been busy getting three dozen cupcakes and other treats completed for a birthday party tomorrow, and later today – at exactly 2 pm, she would visit the library, as she did every Tuesday.

"Hey, Cherry?" Jungkook suddenly called out, jumping to his feet, "Can you reschedule my 2 o'clock appointment to tomorrow?" he asked his secretary, a middle-aged kind women covered in tattoos of all kinds.

She perched her hot pink glasses on the bridge of her nose and nodded, "Sure thing, JK." she said, her long acrylic nails tapping on the keyboard. "I'll just give Malcolm a call."

"Thanks, Cherry," Jungkook said gratefully, twiddling with the multiple rings on his hands as he searched for his car keys.

"I got somewhere to be," he called out, already stalking out the his tattoo shop, TATTERED, "I'll be back later!"

Cherry watched the young dad with a grin on her face and reached for her phone.

She unlocked her phone and dialed a number.

"Erica, that boy's got it bad – I'm just tellin' you, girl. He was blushing a few minutes ago when he told me he'd be back later. It's been like this for months."

On Sunn Vale Court, Erica Lee grinned at her phone as she spoke with her childhood friend. "Let's hope River gets over her fear of being in a relationship," she said with a sigh, looking across the room.

"Stage an intervention," Cherry suggested after a moment of silence. "I just pity the poor boy whenever he comes in every morning sad as a kicked puppy."

Over the next thirty minutes, Erica and Cherry – along with Brett, Atlas, and Gabriel – and most surprisingly, Corey, came up with a plan to help out both parties involved.

author's note ; ✨

if you want to be apart of my taglist, just let me know! As always, thank you so much for reading, and enjoy! I'm grateful for all of you <3

#bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #wattpad #dilf jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bangtan #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkookie

[hauntedppgpaints]

ok so prompt 28 “You get a little stupid when you have your rut, it’s cute.” but specifically because they go into rut on the ice during a game--maybe people are worried that the alpha will get aggressive but he actually just ends up really clingy and possessive and they have a hard time convincing him that he kind of needs to let go of his omega (or whatever his chosen partner is i'm not picky) to like. take off their skates and gear and go home lol.

i'm not sure what pairings you'd want to write, so feel free to do whomever, but maybe the deweys? could honestly work pre- or post-trade.

omegaverse prompts // accepting.

hope it's okay that i make it flowerdeweys anon!!! 374 words, no smut for this one

Connor knows his rut's about to hit. It's on his calendar and everything. Brandon's usually hits the week after, and then Flower's heat falls two weeks after that. It's all on the calendar, they're all so good at being adults.

Until Connor takes a weird hit during a game, and he can suddenly smell and identify each and every player on the ice. Fuck.

The sudden inundation of scents and smells makes him dizzy, and his teammates on the ice quickly surround him to make sure he's okay. Thankfully, he had been near Flower's net when the hit landed, so his Omega is nearby.

Oh. Omega. His Omega is nearby. Yay! Maybe he needs help-

"Oh, no," Flower groans, cupping his catcher against Connor's back. Yay, Flower is touching me! But it would be better if the catcher was off. And my jersey. Would it be okay if I took my jersey off? It's hot. And itchy.

"What? Is he okay?" Someone asks. A new scent starts to make it's way closer, and Connor recognizes this one too. Alpha. Brandon.

"Yeah, just... the hit knocked him into his rut a few days early." Flower explains, greeting the approaching Brandon with a trill. Brandon rumbles back, and turns his attention to Connor. The others skate back a little, apprehensive.

"Is he... how bad to his ruts get?" Someone asks. Connor thinks it's Jared, but he's a little distracted by the hands on him right now. Hm... Flower's touching me. And Brandon too! Maybe I can get them both home right now... Connor reaches for both of his partners' hands, tugging at the gloves and frowning when it doesn't get the intended result.

"He's okay for the first few hours. Enough for us to finish the game and get home. For now, he's just skin hungry." Brandon explains as he takes off one of his gloves. Flower does the same with his catcher, and they both offer their hands to Connor, who happily takes them and kisses their palms with a low purr.

"He's a little stupid at the start of his rut. But he's cute, so it's okay." Flower laughs, adjusting his grip on Connor so he can start tugging the Alpha towards the bench.

#answered ask #Anonymous #warden writes #omegaverse #beej au #flowerdeweys

[catierambles]

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @eldarwen333 , @omgkatinka , @identity2212 , @lucypaulette , @km-ffluv , @kebabgirl67 , @squeezyvalkyrie , @rebelangel1102 , @dopegardensaladhuman , @ilsacharlotte , @josie-packard (if your name has a strikethrough, I couldn't tag you)

also @peachyvulpixie because vampires *smorches*

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Elizabeth Montague (OFC)

WC 2571

Warnings: Smut and vampy elements

Court was busy, as it usually was, with simpering ladies and peacocking lords, all vying for power and prestige, to increase their standing above one another. Deceit, betrayal, rumors and lies. Blackmail and back stabbing. All were traded and dealt in as easily as coin.

You'd think with the centuries he had spent among them, he would have tired of their ceaseless machinations, but you would be wrong.

He loved it.

Henry sat on the throne at the head of court, his newest bride at his side. Charles didn't bother to learn this one's name. She wouldn't last long, if her predecessors were anything to go by. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking at each of the ladies in turn, their marital status not effecting his appraisal of them. A bed warmer, or a meal, perhaps both, was what he was searching for, and he found that his standing as the King's "friend" made Ladies of court much more receptive of his advances. Taking a goblet of wine from a passing tray carried by a servant, he skirted around the dance floor and its spinning bodies, his eyes moving from one to the next like a lion appraising a herd of gazelle, looking for the weakest.

They stopped, falling on a young woman standing next to a very stern faced older woman. Her eyes were down, her hands clasped in front of her, but her shoulders were back, her jaw strong, not the bearing of the meek and timid. Taking a sip of the wine, he moved towards them, his eyes not leaving her.

"Lady Montague." Charles said, "A pleasure. And who is this beautiful flower you have with you?"

"The pleasure is mine, Your Grace." Lady Montague said, "And this is my youngest daughter, Elizabeth. Say hello, Elizabeth."

"Your Grace." She said, giving a curtsy but not raising her eyes from the floor.

"I don't think I've seen you at court before, Elizabeth." Charles pointed out.

"I--"

"Quiet, Elizabeth." Her mother snapped and he saw the way her shoulders tightened. "Pardon us, Your Grace, but this is mine and her father's last effort at finding a good match for her. The other have not gone well. Twenty one summers and still unwed." She clicked her tongue disapprovingly and he watched the muscle in Elizabeth's jaw jump.

"Not gone well?" He asked, "How so?"

"She's a willful child, Your Grace, more interested in horse back riding and sword play, learning of the stars in the heavens than needlework or anything befitting a proper wife." The Lady said, "Shameful. Every match her father and I have made called off the engagement after a single conversation with her. It's maddening."

"It's--"

"I said quiet, Elizabeth."

"I'll marry her." Charles said and he didn't know who was more surprised at the words, himself or Lady Montague.

"Your Grace!" She exclaimed, "I couldn't possibly allow you to--what I mean to say is she's not fit to be the bride of someone of your personage!"

"Lady Montague, you seem to be under the impression that I'm asking." Charles said, "I'm not. I'm telling you that I will marry her." She looked up then and he felt the smile pull at his lips, "There she is, and what beautiful green eyes she has, like emeralds in the sunlight."

"Your Grace, I..."

"Come now, dearest. We are to be wed." Charles said, "You may call me Charles, if it pleases you. Now, I would love to hear about the stars in the heavens, but I suppose it might be easier if we were looking at them. Shall we go to the gardens?" He offered her his arm and there was a moment's hesitation before she slid her arm through his.

"Yes, Your--Charles. I would love to." Those eyes of hers were only for him, but he caught how her mother's mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish as he led her away. He also noticed how it had not missed Henry's attention, as his own gaze was fixed on them, watching as they walked towards the garden doors.

They were married as quickly as possible, her dowry paid, and he got the feeling that her parents were glad to be rid of her and she of them. Henry oversaw the ceremony as his right as King, the priest spouting the flowery words of love, devotion, loyalty, and servitude. Charles hardly heard them, his eyes focused on Elizabeth as she looked gorgeous in her wedding dress. He still responded when necessary as did she, but she couldn't seem to take her eyes from him as well. Their time in the gardens that night had been an enjoyable one, as she told him of the stars, the myths behind the constellations, tracing between the twinkling lights with a fingertip raised in the air. He had kissed her, taking her by surprise, but her eyes had closed as she responded to him. A true response, not the trained response of someone with ulterior motives.

He had almost taken her right there on the ground, and as hidden as they were, no one would have noticed, but he refrained, leaving her with a beautiful flush to her pale cheeks, her lips rosy and kiss bruised.

The reception after the ceremony seemed to drag on for ages and even though he had literally just been married, some Ladies of the court still tried to seduce him, touching him unnecessarily, laughing falsely at some things he said, pressing their breasts against his arm. Elizabeth appeared seemingly out of thin air, giving him a smile, and the women a steely glare with a such a force that they shrank away, pulling him away with her fingers wrapped around his. His new bride was a wolf among sheep, it seemed, and he couldn't be more pleased.

Finally they were allowed to retire after Henry left and Charles swore he held off his departure as long as possible, as if he were trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

He closed the door to his—their—bedchambers behind him, looking at her standing there still in her wedding dress, her veil having been discarded sometime over the course of the night. She trembled slightly as he went to her, reaching up to touch the side of her face gently. Not fear, he got no trace of that from her. Nerves.

“Have you ever been touched by a man before?” He asked gently and there was a moment of hesitation before she shook her head.

“N-No.”

“I'll take care of you, my wife.” He whispered, “And taking care of you will ensure that you take care of me.” She nodded and he leaned into her, his eyes moving over her face before he kissed her, pressing his lips to hers gently. The sound she made at the touch of his lips was almost imperceptible, but it made him groan and he pulled her closer, crushing her against him with an arm around her waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth to swirl against her. He didn't need to breathe, but she did, and she gasped as he pulled away, her chest heaving in the corset, that beautiful flush back on her cheeks. His fingers worked on the back ties of her dress and soon it was pooled at her feet in a heap of silk and lace, her petticoats joined it and her fingers curled in his shirt as he pulled her against him again, a shudder racing down his spine at the feel of her without so much fabric between them.

The corset was next and she pulled away from him, turning her back on him as it fell away, shielding her body from him.

“Come now, Liz.” He whispered, his hands laying on her bare shoulders. “I wish to see my bride's beautiful form, is that too much to ask for?”

“N-No, I—”

“You're nervous.” He said, “It's to be expected. As I said, I will take care of you.” He then became very aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed and he fixed that, shedding the numerous layers quickly, leaving them on the floor as he stepped very close behind her, holding her arms and pulling her back against him. Her gentle gasp as his bare chest pressed against her back made him smile and her head tilted to the side slightly as his lips touched her neck. Running his hands down her arms, he gently pulled them from where they had been crossed over her chest before dragging his fingertips back up her stomach. Her breasts filled his palms and she whimpered, her head falling back against his shoulder as he kneaded them gently, rolling the tips between his fingers. “That's it, my dearest, relax and let yourself feel it.”

“Charles...” She breathed and he turned her, taking her in his arms again and kissing her, her arms resting on his shoulders and a shudder ran down his spine as her nails traced through his shorn hair. Bending slightly at the knees, he picked her up in a bridal carry, taking her to the bed and laying her down, moving over her and looking down at her.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered and pressed his lips to hers, holding the side of her face. He moved down her body, tasting her skin as he went, pulling her small clothes down and off and she was bare beneath him finally. Her small squeak of surprise as he pulled her to the foot of the bed made him chuckle and he heard as her breath caught when he parted her legs, looking down at her.

"What're you---What're you doing?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him.

"Don't. Move." He said and pulled a dagger he had from its sheath under the bed.

"Charles?" There was a slight tremor to her voice.

"Relax, my dearest, and you won't be harmed." He said and brought the blade to her mound, running it close to her skin and shaving away the hair covering her womanhood. He kept the blade extremely sharp so there almost no resistance as he worked on her, her breath catching again as his fingers moved her for protection and better angles until there was nothing but a thin layer of stubble left behind. "There." He said, "You'll feel that much more now." A small amount of wetness had gathered from his touches and he ran his fingers through her, the whimper she let out making him smile. "Oh, my dear Elizabeth." Blowing slightly, he blew the shavings from her skin, running his hand over her to brush them onto the blanket folded at the end of the bed before pulling it out from under her, keeping the mess contained and casting it aside. Looking up at her, he watched her swallow heavily and he laid his palms against her inner thighs before dipping his head down and running his tongue along her slightly irritated flesh. Humming, he did it again, this time pressing his tongue between her folds and tasting her fully.

"Oh gods." She breathed and he heard her fall back onto the bed.

"So sweet, my wife." He said and latched his lips onto her, swirling his tongue through her, finding her pearl and sucking it between his lips. Parting her with his fingertips, he flicked his tongue against her, pressing it just inside her before licking up her again, taking her between his lips. Tracing her entrance with a couple fingertips, she gasped as he slid them into her, pumping slowly as he continued to taste her. He felt her fingers move through his hair and he held her hand with his, entwining their fingers and giving her something to hold onto as he pushed her higher and higher.

Her fingers clenched, her back arched, and her name left his lips in a gasp as she came, her soft cries filling the room as waves of pleasure washed over her.

"So good for me." He whispered, pressing soft kisses to her swollen flesh, still pumping his fingers slowly as she fluttered and clenched around them. Pulling his hand from her, he knelt on the bed, moving up her slowly until he was over, seeing her pleading eyes, dark with desire. "My wonderful wife." Pushing his smalls down and off, he took himself in his hand and pumped briefly, coating himself with her before running the wide head over her. "I won't lie to you, it will hurt, but I have prepared you as much as I can so the pain will be bearable." She just nodded. "Hold onto me, dearest." Her arms wrapped around his chest as he aligned them, pressing her into the bed with his weight before starting to push forward. Her breath caught and she tensed at the intrusion. "Breathe, my love, breathe." Her breath left her in a rush and he continued pushing into her.

"Charles..." She whimpered, holding onto him tightly and he pressed his lips to her hair.

"I know, my dearest, it's almost over." He said and soon he bottomed out inside her, pressed inside her to the base and she gasped, gulping in air. "Easy, sweetheart. Easy. I won't move until you tell me." She nodded and he ran his lips over her face, her neck, her shoulders, his hands running over her skin and massaging tensed muscles. Bit by bit she started to relax and she gave a sigh.

"Okay." She said with a nod and he started to move, pushing and pulling slowly. The way she felt, how tightly she gripped him, it made him move faster, looping an arm around her waist and holding her against him as he worked between her legs. Small noises started to leave her lips as he joined them again and again, and he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked but she shook her head.

"Not anymore." She said and he kissed her, holding the side of her face and grunting into her lips. Her legs cinched high around his hips and he buried his face in her neck, panting into her skin. He felt the familiar tugging in his mouth and he ran his tongue along her throat, pulling the vein to the surface. His lips parted and he surged into her just as he bit down, his fangs piercing her skin. The taste of her blood made his head spin and he found himself moving harder, faster, as he pulled from her. Her cries in his ears was almost musical and he felt the moment she released again, her muscles contracting around him so very tightly, massaging and milking him. Pulling away from her throat, he licked the last traces of her from his lips and her skin, his eyes rolling back as she continued to pulse around him, pushing him over the edge. He joined them roughly, pressing them together so tightly he wasn't sure where he ended and she began as he spilled inside her, filling her.

She panted in his ear, her heart thundering against his chest as he pulled back only much as to look down at her.

"My dear Elizabeth." He whispered and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply and holding her tight against him.

#henry cavill #charles brandon

[artaxlivs]

20 Questions for Writers

Tagged by @eriquin. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Forty-Five

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 419,731

3. What fandoms do you write for? Stranger Things, Marvel (specifically Hawkeye based), & recently, Teen Wolf

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (all Stranger Things)

Destroy the Silence (Drummer Steve)

An Accidental Flogging

The Second Worst Trip to Mordor Ever Taken

Even Flowers Have Their Dangers

Screw Todd, Steve's Her (His) Daddy Now

5. Do you respond to comments? Always

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It's not angsty but this one will ruin your day and it's only 442 words: i was afraid to follow

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Almost all of my fics have happy endings but I am told that Something to Tweet About is a sticky sweet happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No but I don't write anything polarizing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Ohhhh I write smut. 😘

10. Do you write crossovers? Not really. I write "Fandom A in Fandom B's world" types sometimes but the characters don't crossover. I wrote a Dirty Dancing Stranger Things called Nobody's Baby.

11. Are any of your fics converted into podfics? Yes! I have two by amazing podders that I'm incredibly grateful to - check them out!

Destroy the Silence read by @rufusbear

Let Me Be Your Man (I Want to Hold Your Hand) by @thirdeye1234 (RattleandHum on Ao3)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? My Destroy the Silence is currently being translated into Russian (It's not up yet or I'd link it!)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Winterhawk (Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Listen - don't come at me. I'm gonna finish all my WIPs, okay?

16. What are your writing strengths? Mmmm, story pacing, dialogue, good banter, humor, fluff, consent communication, character development and somehow working music into most of my fics.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? visual world building. I have aphantasia so sometimes I'll just forget to describe the world around them because I can't see it anyway.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I think a few common words here and there are fine but not full sentences of a language you don't speak. Advice from Brandon Sanderson that I write by: be vague or you create plot holes and inconsistencies.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Winterhawk

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Loaded question here. I'm gonna say two. My first is actually a Steve Rogers/Clint Barton series where Clint is a soldier and meets Steve Rogers during the war - he falls from the train, not Bucky. It's called A Bird By Any Other Name and I love it. My second is Even Flowers Have Their Dangers which is Stranger Things rewrite of the end of S4 and what I think S5 would look like if Steve and the kids had turned into werewolves in the tunnels in S2.

No pressure tags: @betrayedbycinnamon @carcrash429 @noxnthea @there-must-be-a-lock @river9noble

#20 questions #fanfic #show and tell

[succubusphan]

A Rose of Winter - Chapter 17

Summary: All Daniel wanted to do was escape the stifling life as a Stark of Winterfell and travel the world. Between the looming threat North of The Wall and the den of lions in the capital, he unexpectedly finds love in the midst of a war set to tear Westeros apart. Caught between loyalty to his family and duty, he is torn in a thousand directions that all point to one man: Philip Flowers.

Rating: E (There are only a few smut scenes but it's an M for battles, war, and other adult topics)

Tags/warnings: I removed most triggers (no R or SA, no minors involved in sex, no gore). It does include: Deaths either written without details or in a poetic way if it's an important character (Dan and Phil, Ghost and Balerion will live but everyone else is fair game). Strangers to lovers, Slow Burn, missing each other. The prophecies and stories foreshadowed are fulfilled, a satisfying ending to the entire story without plot holes. Extreme canon divergence. Dan and Phil are not replacing characters, they were written in. GAME OF THRONES AU

Author's Note: This is my OSPBB 2022, Couldn't have done it without my betas @effingmeteors and @filisaceaf.

Word Count: Each chapter will be around 15k and have at least one Dan or Phil pov. The total wc is about 210k.

Read on Ao3

BRAN

Bran thanked Arya after she had taken him to the Godswood, smiling and shaking his head when she asked if he wanted company. He knew Arya didn’t really understand, but they had something in common: they had changed, but they still loved each other. He pressed his hand to the weirwood and felt his eyes roll back into his skull. He was in King’s Landing, once again feeling the need to see his family together. He had seen many memories, but he still had so much to see.

“Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours,” Arya said as she balanced on one foot at the top of a small set of stairs. She couldn’t have been older than twelve.

“It's a hard fall down these steps,” their father replied.

Still, Arya continued to wobble on her left foot. “Syrio says every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better. Tomorrow I'm going to be chasing cats!” 

“Cats?” He frowned.

“He says every swordsman should study cats, they're as quiet as shadows and as light as feathers. You have to be quick to catch them.”

“He's right about that,” Ned conceded with a stern smile.

Arya’s glee vanished from her face, she set her foot down and looked at him in worry. “Now that Bran's awake, will he come live with us?”

“Well, he needs to get his strength back first.”

“He wants to be a knight of the Kingsguard. He can't be one now, can he?”

“No, but someday he could be Lord of a holdfast, or sit on the King's council, or he might raise castles like Brandon the Builder.”

“Can I be Lord of a holdfast?”

Their father chuckled and hugged her gently with one arm. “You will marry a high Lord and rule his castle, and your sons shall be knights and Princes and Lords.”

“No, that's not me,” Arya replied.

Bran pulled his hand back. Perhaps there was a chance to go back and stop the White Walkers from ever crossing The Wall. He looked at the weirwood and pressed his hand against the tree bark once again, focusing on The Age of Heroes, what little he knew of it, what Old Nan had told him. 

Suddenly, he was watching the construction of The Wall thousands of years ago, giants moving blocks of ice, the Children of the Forest helping to bind them with magic and in the foundation, giant shards of ice sparkling in the sunlight. Bran walked closer to take a look and stood beside a long-haired man directing the build. He faltered when the man turned around and Bran was met with an older version of himself staring right into his eyes. He could see it as clear as day, that’s what he would look like in a few decades, except that the man had working legs. It was him. He was Brandon The Builder. 

Bran laughed softly. He now knew what he had to do. He went back further in time, to a small hut built where Winterfell now stood. A struggling woman was exhausted, trying to bring her son into the world, her husband holding her hand, comforting her. With one last push, the child was born.

The woman’s sister wrapped the child up and passed him to his parents. “Brandon Stark, welcome home,” she said with shining eyes. 

Bran slipped into the baby’s mind and allowed himself to be loved once again. In this life, he got to do and enjoy and suffer so much more than in the original one. He built a castle for his family and founded House Stark, choosing the direwolf as their sigil. Brandon was the one to unite the North, winning the loyalty of the other Lords and becoming the first King in the North, bringing peace to the region after hundreds of years of raging wars. 

He also had a brother, who grew up to be the first Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Brandon loved his brother dearly, so much so that he tried to help him, but couldn’t. Enthralled by a creature that came from The Land of Always Winter, he took Castle Black and brought terror to the North. There were stories of human sacrifices, and there were even rumours of him giving his soul to the creature he called his Queen, but Brandon didn’t want to believe them until it was almost too late.

With the Andals invading the south of Westeros and his brother terrorizing the North, those with the blood of The First Men, the original Westerosi settlers, struck a deal with the creatures known as Children of The Forest for their green skin and short stature, carving faces onto the weirwood trees to have their Gods as their witness. Together they fought The Others, ending most of their army, and vanishing the rest back to The Land of Always Winter.

Together, Brandon, the giants and the Children, built a magic-infused Wall so high and so wide that even if the White Walkers ever tried to cross it, they would fail.

The First Men had fought beside the Children, they even came to marry them, and adopt their beliefs until the Andal invasion propagated and the few magical beings left fled beyond The Wall, where nobody could reach them. Some men followed, creating their own settlements, others remained south of The Wall, the words of House Stark, “Winter is coming,” serving as a reminder of what once was and could be again. The Northern houses agreed to protect Westeros from the threat beyond The Wall and from the Starks themselves, a pact sealed with the words “The North remembers.” 

Before he died Brandon said: “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell” to his descendants, not only because they were tied to The Wall by blood magic, but because Winterfell served to protect the North from them. For thousands of years, the promise was kept and The Wall remained intact.

Bran gasped and shook his hand, pulling it away from the weirwood. His entire body was numb, night had fallen upon him and his head pounded so hard he thought his skull could cave at a moment’s notice.

“Bran!” Arya said, rushing to him. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding!”

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and stared at the crimson stain. “Could you take me to my chambers? Please,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” she said, turning his chair around and pushing him to the entrance of the Godswood. “Did you find anything?”

“I did, but I need to keep looking.”

“You sound different,” she commented.

“I lived an entire life today.”

“I - I don’t know what to say…” Arya admitted.

“That’s alright. I would rather be in a quiet place now.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “If you need anything, bang the wall behind your bed and I will be right over.”

“Thank you,” he said with a small smile even though she couldn’t see it.

DAENERYS

Shortly after their return to Dragonstone, Jaime Lannister finally arrived, requesting an audience with Daenerys. She was conflicted, angry, and, honestly, a bit scared of what she might do to him. Thankfully, Jon was a calming presence at her side, and Tyrion knew to be close by.

She received him in the Throne Room, choosing to remain silent and let him speak instead.

He walked in slowly, with apparent hesitation but still nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Danny raised her eyebrows at him. “Never thought the man who killed my father, stabbed him in the back and slit his throat, sat on the throne, and watched him die would request an audience with me. It was a bold decision.”

“I was hoping that the information I sent ahead of my trip would help you realise that I am on your side.”

“So you are a traitor to your own family,” Daenerys said.

“This is beyond loyalty. I promised to fight for the side of the living and Cersei is not going to join me, so here I stand. I am not the monster you think I am.”

The door opened, Tyrion and Lady Brienne of Tarth walking in to stand beside Jaime Lannister.

“Your Grace,” said Tyrion. “My brother has done many questionable things in his life, as have most of us, but I know him and I know that he’s a man true to his word.”

“Was he not sworn into the Kingsguard when he killed my father? Did he not earn the name ‘Oathbreaker’?”

Tyrion took a step forward but Jaime placed a hand on his shoulder. “I love my family, I will not apologise for the things I did for them, I was doing what I thought was right. I did swear an oath to your father and I intended to keep it until he decided to burn every person in King’s Landing for no reason other than his own enjoyment.”

Daenerys could feel the impending headache forming already. She had heard the stories, it did match the information she’d had, but it was all too convenient for the Lannisters to have been involved in the demise of her family only to marry Cersei off to the usurper, making her Queen and her children heirs to the throne. Tywin Lannister had killed every single Targaryen, even the children, without remorse and forced the rest of them to flee. “Did your family have to kill the children as well?”

“No, of course not, but I did not make that decision; that was my father,” Jaime said.

“Your Grace,” said Brienne. “I know you don’t know me well but those who do can speak to my character. I was once Ser Jaime’s captor: when sworn to Catelyn Stark, I was charged with taking him back to King’s Landing and exchanging him for Arya and Sansa Stark. His family refused the offer but he still armed me, armoured me, and sent me back to Lady Catelyn with the order to find and protect her girls because he had made a pact with her.” She paused, shutting her eyes for a moment before continuing. “On our way to King’s Landing we were captured and Ser Jaime protected me, pleaded for my safety, and lost a hand for it.”

“Do you vouch for this man?” Daenerys pressed.

“I do,” Brienne answered.

“Would you fight at his side?”

“I would, Your Grace.”

Daenerys looked to her side. “Jon?”

“We need every man we can get, especially in the battle against the Night King.”

She turned to Jaime Lannister again. “Will you fight against your own sister’s army in King’s Landing?”

“I will; I even spoke to Bronn about helping us from the inside. I only ask to be the one to kill her.”

“Why?” Danny frowned.

“I don’t want her to suffer,” he said, his voice breaking. 

At that moment, Daenerys knew that he truly intended to kill her. “What about after, once we’ve taken King’s Landing?”

Jaime pressed his lips into a line, taking a moment to think. “The Lannister army will be at your command, but I suggest that you leave someone in charge at the Capital while we go north to fight The Great War. The people will need a safe place to stay in and hopefully the army of the dead won’t reach this far south.”

“Very well. Welcome aboard,” she said. “If you betray me I will execute you and your brother for it.”

Tyrion nodded and bowed. Grey Worm walked over to Jaime Lannister and returned his sword with a frown.

---

The Northmen, who had been arriving and setting up camp on the island waiting for the battle, didn’t take well to having Jaime Lannister around, but Dan and Jon (along with Brienne) were able to slowly placate them. Still, Tyrion and Jaime planned a direct path to the Red Keep to ensure that Cersei would not be able to escape to attack them on a different occasion. The most obvious way in was through the sewers but, according to Jaime Lannister, Euron Greyjoy had not sailed for the Iron Islands, so Daenerys and Phil would attack his fleet from above while Yara would meet him in Blackwater Bay to minimise casualties. 

Once most of Euron’s fleet was gone, the Unsullied would deploy on the beach, letting Tyrion and Jaime lead them through to the city.

Jon would lead the northmen along with the Dornish forces and the Dothraki against Cersei’s mercenary army and Ser Loras would be true to his word, commanding the Tyrell forces with Renly as reinforcement to keep a consistent attack. 

Once Danny received the signal, she would target the military buildings in the Capital for the finishing blow. 

Arya Stark, who had insisted on returning with them to Dragonstone, seemed to be adamant that she would be the one to kill Cersei to avenge her family, but Jaime Lannister wanted to do it himself. Danny told them that she didn't care who did it as long as it was done by the time the battle was over.

They finally had a plan to take The Iron Throne.

DAN

Dan didn’t expect to see Arya arguing with Jaime Lannister over who would get to kill his sister. It was clearly a hard topic for him, Dan could see it in his eyes: he didn’t want to do it but he knew it was necessary. He also knew nobody else would spare her suffering after everything she had done. Every single person in the planning room had a personal grudge against her. 

In a moment of clarity, Dan remembered The Hound and how he had protected both Sansa and Arya, even if he had kept insisting he only did it for ulterior motives in Arya’s case. He never sold her or hurt her in any way and Sansa would have not survived King’s Landing without him. It had to mean something to Arya. 

“You should let Ser Jaime take care of Cersei as he wishes; there’s someone else you need to kill, a very important target.”

Arya huffed. “I’m not a child. You can’t distract me by offering me another toy,” she said.

“You said The Mountain was on your list. Sandor Clegane would have done it himself if he was still alive; we all know how he hated his brother. Why don’t you avenge him and all the people The Mountain killed and tortured. The Dornish would greatly appreciate it too.”

Phil walked over to them and nodded. “Yes, what he did to Prince Oberyn was horrible. He died trying to avenge his sister and her children. You would be settling so many scores with a simple act.”

“Alright, I’ll do it for The Hound,” Arya said and turned back to Jaime. “I understand what you are trying to do but if you fail, I will get to her so make sure you finish the job.”

“I know. Thank you,” he said and excused himself, Brienne following close behind.

It still came as a bit of a surprise to Dan when he walked in on them kissing only days later.

BRAN

Bran looked around and smiled, inhaling the smells of the forest. He remembered that day. It was the day they found the direwolves. He shivered at the sight of the dead stag. He cocked his head and wondered if that had been an omen; after all, King Robert died within the year. Perhaps not since his father insisted that the direwolf had been the one to kill the stag. 

He followed his family down to the pups, his heart aching when he saw Summer’s tiny body. He missed his girl on occasion. When he could really take a break from learning, when he could step away from greenseeing for more than a few hours and he felt more like himself, he really did miss her and the rest of his family. He briefly wondered if there was a beyond, a place where he could see them again, but he didn’t let that thought linger; it was almost too tempting.

Seeing his family return to the path, he frowned. Ghost hadn’t been found yet. Bran walked down again and checked behind the trees, “Jon!” He whispered, shaking the tiny white furball to make it growl and putting it down before Jon found it. Perhaps he was meant to do that. Perhaps he had led Jon to Ghost from the start.

Letting go of that memory, he went further back in time. He needed to see it again without any interruptions. He stood in the Isle of Faces where the Children of the Forest had a black-haired man tied to a tree, his pleas muffled through the gag as they discussed his fate. Leaf grabbed a piece of dragonglass and approached him, his desperation evident in his eyes. Bran felt the urge to save him, his brother, the brother that he knew and loved as Brandon The Builder, but he didn’t move a muscle until he saw her. A beautiful yet terrifying creature standing next to him, watching the scene raptly with a smile. Her white hair flowed in the wind, her pale blue skin shining in the sunlight and atop her head, a crown of ice just like the one his brother would bear. 

Bran heard his brother scream as Leaf plunged the dragonglass into his heart, his voice replaced with the sound of cracking ice, his brown eyes turning bright blue and cold. The Night King watched Bran grab a dragonglass blade and plunge into the Ice Queen’s chest, watching her shatter and fall, turning into snow and blowing in the wind. 

The Night King’s eyes filled with hatred and he pulled free from the ropes. 

Pulling his hand from the weirwood, Bran froze in shock. He now knew why The Night King was after him. He had always tried to capture the Three-Eyed Raven but his feud with Bran was personal. He had killed his Queen.

SANSA

Lady Lyanna swung her sword towards Shireen, cutting a few strands of her hair as she ducked a bit too late. Sansa smiled, noticing that Lyanna had actually tried to attack her slower than she had with other children in training. 

“That was good, Shireen, you have to be faster. You try it,” she said, giving her friend her sword.

Sansa wanted to tell them off for training with real swords but she knew better than arguing with Lady Mormont. 

Shireen tried imitating Lyanna’s move, making her duck almost a bit too quickly but surprised her with a kick to the chest as soon as she had managed to crouch and sent her straight into a pile of pig shit. “Oh! Sorry!” She said, although she didn’t look sorry at all.

A beautiful and carefree laugh filled the air, and Sansa’s eyes widened at seeing the young Lady Mormont acting her age for the first time. 

“My Lady, do you need help?” Sansa asked.

“Of course not. I just need a bath. It’s good for the sore muscles anyway,” she said, taking the hand Shireen was offering only to pull her onto the pile of shit. “Now we are even.”

“Lya-nna!” Shireen laughed.

Letting out a deep sigh, Sansa walked into the Godswood in search of Bran but didn’t find him there. She frowned; it was rare not to see him there these days. He said the weirwood helped him use his powers better. Perhaps he had mastered them past the need of the tree. 

BRAN

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said.

Meera walked in with a frown. “We haven’t even spoken in weeks, Bran.”

“I’m sorry, Meera. I have been busy trying to find something that could help us,” Bran said. “I think it’s time for you to go home. You will be safe there.”

“Bran… I fought for you, I carried you away from the White Walkers, my brother died for you!” Meera said, her voice breaking.

Bran cleared his throat and tried to be as stoic as possible. “And I thank you for that. Please go south and stay home. I have made arrangements for you to get a horse and provisions for your trip. Sansa will take you to the gate.”

The tears she had been holding finally fell. “I can’t believe you are doing this after everything we have gone through together,” she said. “I think that Brandon Stark really died that day in the cave.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left, leaving the door open.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so broken and disgusted with himself. ‘It was the right choice,’ he repeated in his mind. ‘It was the right choice.’ He wanted Meera to have a long and happy life away from danger and he knew she wouldn’t leave him unless she was forced to. It was the only way, even if it meant that she would hate him. 

Bran buried his face in his hands and sobbed, wishing things could have been different between them. He was a bit shocked to feel someone hugging him tightly. “It’s alright,” Arya whispered. “You did the right thing.”

--

The following day, Bran wanted nothing more than to be away from his body and inner turmoil, so he went back into the memories.

Bran watched the younger version of his father walk into The Tower of Joy once again and followed him in. He saw his aunt Lyanna laying in bed, covered in her own sweat and blood after the birth, begging him to help her. This time, Bran got close enough to hear them. 

“I wish I was brave, but I’m not. I don’t want to die!” She cried.

“You are not dying!” His father said. “Get her some water, or a maester!” He screamed at the healer standing idly by.

“Ned, Ned. Listen to me. Take him,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes as the healer next to her handed her a baby. “Take him, Ned. Please!” She said with a broken voice. “His name is Aegon; if Robert finds out he’ll kill him.”

Bran’s father kissed Lyanna’s forehead.

“Promise me, Ned. Promise me that you’ll help him.”

He grabbed the baby, sorrow written all over his face. “I promise. I will raise him as my own.” 

Frowning, Bran set his back against his chair. This changed everything. He asked the guard standing at his side to take him to his chambers and stared into the fire contemplating the ramifications of his new findings.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he could see the full picture. A knock on the door announced Samwel’s arrival. The man opened the door with a shy smile.

“Hello!” He said, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

“Samwell Tarly. You helped me go beyond The Wall. You’re a good man.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“I remember everything,” Bran said with a small smile. 

“How does that work?” Sam said, coming to stand near the fire.

“It’s complicated but - I became the Three-Eyed Raven, a being that can hold the entire history of the world. I can see things that were, things that are and some things that will be. I have the power of greensight now. Why did you come to Winterfell?”

Sam frowned. “Jon will lead the fight against the dead. I always knew he would. I learned as much as I could in the Citadel, took some books I thought would be useful and came back to help. I’m not a good fighter, but I will try my best to make myself useful.”

“Jon is on his way to King’s Landing with Daenerys Targaryen. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this Samwell, but -” Bran paused. “Your father and brother supported the Lannisters’ attack on Highgarden. They refused to bend the knee before Daenerys and she executed them.”

Sam looked taken aback by the news, his eyes welled up in tears. “Both of them?”

Bran nodded. “She tried to spare your brother but he refused. You are now the last Tarly heir.”

“I’m no heir,” Sam said. “My father hated me.” His lips trembled as he tried not to cry. “Does Jon know?”

“He doesn’t. He also doesn’t know the story yet; no one does. No one but me.”

“What story?”

“His own story. What he has always wanted to know: who his mother is.”

Sam rubbed at his eyes and looked at him expectantly, his mouth hanging slightly open. 

“He is the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. He’s not a Northern bastard; he was born in a tower in Dorne. His name is not Snow, it’s Sand.”

“No,” Sam gasped in shock. “No, no. I found a High Septon’s journal in the Citadel. He annulled Rhaegar Targaryen’s marriage with Elia Martell and wed him to Lyanna in a secret ceremony.”

“Are you certain?”

“I don’t know why he’d lie,” Sam said. “Is this something you can… see?”

Bran nodded and focused as hard as he could to go back into the memory. He could see it as clear as day: The gentle Targaryen Prince and his beautiful aunt Lyanna saying their vows before the High Septon on a pleasant sunny day, smiling widely, looking at each other with nothing but love in their eyes.

He came back to Sam. “Robert’s rebellion was built on a lie. Rhaegar Targaryen never kidnapped my aunt Lyanna, he loved her and she loved him.”

DAENERYS

Daenerys had debated her options. Attacking during the night was too much of a risk with the dragons. She would hardly have a point of reference of where Euron’s fleet was while his men would see and hear her crossing the skies. Instead, she settled for dawn.

Her ships had the Unsullied while the Dothraki were partly in Yara’s fleet and sailing towards Blackwater Bay. Jon had already stationed the Northmen near the Lion’s Gate to meet The Golden Company, Cersei’s mercenary army, elephants and all. Their last weapon was a delayed attack on the Dragon’s Gate by the Highgarden army commanded by Ser Loras Tyrell, with Renly Baratheon and the Dornish forces. 

They had two special forces that had not yet entered the game: Two dragons with their riders and a smaller and faster ship carrying the Ironborn, Tyrion, Jaime Lannister and Arya Stark to the sewers to break into the city and open the gates for the rest. The only thing that could make their attack better was a third dragon rider, but sadly, they had not found one yet. 

In truth, Daenerys knew Arya and Jaime Lannister had decided to go into the Red Keep and kill the main targets, and she had simply agreed. But she let them know that her time was limited. To ensure that Cersei was killed, she would be attacking The Red Keep herself at the first sign of her launching an attack on the people.

Daenerys took a deep breath and walked out to the side of the mountain. She found Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal already waiting for her along with Dan and Phil. 

“Daniel. Will you be joining us today?”

“If you and Viserion will allow it, Your Grace,” he said, twisting his hands nervously.

Danny walked up to the Stark man and pressed his hand to Viserion’s face, watching him lean into the touch. “You should have joined Phil a few more times if this was your intention, but he seems to be comfortable enough with you.”

“I told you he would like you; he’s a good boy,” Phil said.

Dan let out a sad sigh. 

“I know what you are thinking, but we will need the wolves in Winterfell and we can’t possibly keep an eye on them in King’s Landing,” Daenerys said.

“I know,” Dan said. “We should go. Jon said we should be there before the sun was fully out.”

She raised her eyebrows. “He left us orders?”

“Well - no. Your Grace, it’s-”

Danny mounted Drogon and looked at them expectantly. “Well, then. Let’s not keep The King in The North waiting.”

Dan’s eyes widened as he climbed onto Viserion with too much hesitation, but he was not thrown to the ground immediately which was impressive.

Rhaegal screeched, already beginning to lose his patience.

“Phil, you know your targets. If anything goes wrong, please consult with me.”

“Yes, Danny,” he said.

And then they were off, crossing the skies, flying above the clouds, the sun always on their backs. Once they found Euron Greyjoy’s fleet, Danny’s stomach dropped. Every ship was equipped with a sort of harpoon; they were ready. “Phil, careful!”

He nodded and descended upon the ships, switching directions at random, one of the harpoons gracing Viserion, filling him with rage. “Dracarys!” Phil said. Viserion aimed at four nearby ships as they reloaded their weapon. One of them seemed to be loaded with wildfire, which resulted in Viserion turning upside down, making Dan lose his grasp and fall into the sea. 

Daenerys lost her balance, almost following Dan down but managing to remain on the dragon. She called Rhaegal and descended upon the main ships in circles, setting them ablaze.

She looked up just in time to see Phil lead Viserion into the sea and disappear from sight underwater. Her heart almost stopped until she saw her child emerge with Phil still on his back and a very disgruntled Dan hanging on for dear life until Phil finally sat him in front of him.

Phil noticed the harpoons atop the City Walls and took it upon himself to destroy them one by one while Daenerys took her off the enemy Greyjoy fleet and flew over the city to help Phil cover the other walls. She was careful where she guided her children too; Tyrion had let her know that the city was laying on a considerable amount of wildfire. Dragonfire in the wrong place could cause a catastrophe. 

Once all the turrets were disarmed, she flew over the city to inspect the Golden Company. It was impressive: at least twenty thousand skilled assassins in their shining armour, accompanied by their elephants and two thousand horses. Danny knew that if she didn’t have the support of most of Westeros, she wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

There were too many gates, a sea front, and tightly knit streets in the most populated city in the world. 

Jon had asked her not to intervene, but she did it anyway. She drew a ring of fire around the Golden Company, causing the elephants to run over their masters and escape no matter how hard they tried to control the animals. Danny decided that she would look for them later and perhaps find them a good place to live.

Her last task before the Red Keep was clearing the military buildings out of the way. She hoped Arya and Jaime Lannister were already out.

ARYA 

When Yara Greyjoy had delivered them at their destination, Arya and Jaime ran straight for the Red Keep, while Tyrion was in charge of advising the people what to expect.

Jaime had told Tyrion it was a suicide mission and Arya had agreed but he was adamant that they would be on their side because they too had witnessed Cersei’s cruelty and disregard for their safety. 

Once inside the Keep, they ran up the stairs to the Queen’s chambers and it was time to go their separate ways. She charged at him and pierced The Mountain’s neck with her sword but it did nothing more than put him into motion, giving Jaime the opportunity to enter Cersei’s chambers.

She frowned but didn’t let him catch her with her guard down. She twirled away from him and his huge sword. For a moment, a thought crossed her mind: this could be my last day. But she shook her head and smiled when she remembered her dear teacher, Syrio. “What do we say to the God of death?” She asked, eyeing the decorative axes in the far wall. “Not today!” she said, ducking Gregor Clegane’s sword again and grabbing one of the axes. 

The weapons were better mounted to the wall than she had counted on and it nearly cost her a hand, barely able to grab onto one of the axes when The Mountain destroyed the wooden shield they were displayed on, causing them to fall to the floor with a metallic sound. She cut one of his feet off, expecting there to be blood but there was none. It was as if he was not even human anymore. But human or not, he fell to the ground, allowing her to attack him again.

It failed. Gregor Clegane grabbed her by the ankle and threw her against the wall like a ragdoll before she could even get to him. Arya could taste blood in her mouth but didn’t let it bother her. She ran back for the other axe and as he sat down, she beheaded him, part of her still expecting him to move, but he didn’t. “You didn’t deserve the brother you had,” she said and went in search of Jaime.

JAIME

When they reached Cersei’s chambers, The Mountain was blocking the door and already unsheathing his sword. Arya nodded to Jaime before attacking Ser Gregor and leading him away from the door long enough for him to enter and rush to Cersei.

“Jaime,” she said, a dagger in her hands, her eyes glazed over. “I knew you would come. I knew, I knew. We came into this world together and we will leave together.”

He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her temple, his eyes welling up with tears. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. “I’m here. Everything will be alright.”

“I know,” she said and gave him a deranged smile. She was so beautiful still. “Qyburn has my orders already, I know he will follow through.”

“What did you do?!” He asked.

“I will burn them all! Just like it should have happened.”

“You have to stop it! You can’t kill a million people, Cersei. It’s over, she won!”

“I may have lost, but she hasn’t won. If she wants The Iron Throne, she will have to search for the melted pieces under the ruins of the city!”

Jaime grabbed her arms, stepping away from her. “You have to stop him! Tell me how to stop him and I will.”

Cersei laughed. “I knew you were weak. I’ve always known it. You can’t stop it,” she said, grabbing a vial with a bright green liquid in it and a candle before walking out to her terrace, looking down with a wide smile. “I will be like a green falling star, lighting this city like I did once before and leave nothing behind. This time I will do it better.”

Jaime launched at her, knocking the candle first, but she managed to break the vial on his head, managing to cover them both in wildfire. Ignoring the sharp pain on his skin, he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed as an anguished scream escaped him.

“Stop!” She tried to scream, her eyes filled with tears as she struggled. “Please, please, Jaime.”

His tears rolled down his cheeks and mixed with hers. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened. “When the tears have drowned you t-the Valonqar will wrap his hands around your throat and c-” she tried to gasp as she struggled to push him off of her. “Choke the life o-ut of y-”

Jaime screamed and screamed, pulling her lifeless body close to him and burying his head on her chest.

“Jaime,” Arya said from the door. “Come on. Daenerys will strike at any moment.”

“Go. Leave us,” he cried.

“No,” Arya said. “You promised to fight for the living and she’s dead. Brienne said you would honour your oath this time. Don’t take the name Oathbreaker to the tomb.”

Brienne… She believed in him in spite of everything he had done. He could keep his oath, for now. See the Long Night through.

That would at least let him go in peace.  

--

They rushed out of the Red Keep, finding the streets packed with commoners looking up, Qyburn standing beside them. 

As soon as he spotted Jaime, he turned and tried to run. 

“Stop him! Stop Qyburn! He wants to ignite the wildfire buried under the city!”

The people of King’s Landing were not fond of Jaime but they also knew Qyburn worked closely with Cersei. “Kill him!” Said someone in the crowd and that was all it took for them to use everything they had on hand on Qyburn.

A young man took pity and put the old man out of his misery, causing the crowd to let out disappointed groans. “We are not savages,” he said and looked up, staring right into Arya’s eyes.

She ran down the steps and wrapped him into a tight hug. “Gendry!”

The Lannister army looked at Jaime, not knowing what to do. “Cersei is dead. King’s Landing is free,” he said. “If you surrender, you will not lose your lives - or your jobs. There will be no blood spilled today.”

The men seemed relieved for a moment. Then, Daenerys destroyed the top section of The Red Keep, setting them all in motion.

JON

Jon was a bit disappointed for his men; they had been promised an opportunity to take vengeance for their dead but they hardly found any. The main battle was a little anticlimactic once Daenerys had scared the elephants into trampling part of the Golden Company mercenaries. 

Ser Jorah commanded two thousand Dothraki riders in the vanguard. The horde charged against Cersei’s army with clear instructions not to enter through the gates in case they got too excited and pillaged the city. They would be rewarded with any gold and possessions they found on the mercenary soldiers instead.

The Golden Company fought well, but they couldn’t hold their lines as the Northmen joined the fight. Before the sun set, the battle was over. Those who had surrendered were spared as agreed, only a few Lannister men resisting them past the gates fell in action but that was it.

Jon led them through the streets of King’s Landing, the people watching them with equal amounts of curiosity and terror. Yet another attack on the Capital, yet another army marching in. More people to mourn after. He looked around the place that was the beginning of the end for his family as well as the men with him and paused. 

They were supposed to meet at the Dragon Pit, but he didn’t know the way from this gate. A screech in the sky made him look up and smile; Viserion and Rhaegal flew past them apparently unharmed. 

A young mother with her child on her hip shivered at the sight and looked him in the eye. “Will she kill us? Is she a Mad Queen? I have three more babes at home,” she said, almost in tears.

“No, My Lady,” he reassured her. “We have not come here to destroy or kill. Queen Daenerys wanted to free King’s Landing from Cersei and all of Westeros came to help because we believe in her.”

“The Houses believe one thing today and another tomorrow, Me Lord. It’s hard to tell.”

“I promise, it’s not her you should worry about. There are bigger threats on the horizon, but we will do our best to keep everyone safe. We will speak to the people, all of us, and let you know what to expect.”

PHIL

Once they had checked the state of the outer walls and helped Loras with the part of the Lannister army deployed at the Dragon Gate, Dan suggested they check the Lion’s Gate in case Jon needed help against the Golden Company, but Danny had already done her part in that. 

Phil let out a relieved sigh and wrapped his arms around Dan, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you.”

Dan let out a surprised laugh and looked over his shoulder, pulling him into an awkward kiss. 

Viserion chose that moment to take a deep dive.

Letting out a squeak, Dan held onto the dragon as best he could. “I swear he hates me!”

“He’s just playing, love. If he hated you, you would be dead. He’s a dragon, not a cat,” Phil said. “Viserion, play nice.”

The dragon shook his head fast and let out a puff of smoke through his nose. 

“Rude,” Phil said.

After their comments, Viserion landed in the Dragon Pit without a hint of care, sending them rolling off his back. Maybe Dan was partially right. Viserion never did this when it was just the two of them flying. 

Phil stood awkwardly and helped Dan to his feet under Daenerys’ amused stare. “Don’t-”

“You’ll learn to control him better,” she said. Looking around at all the other Commanders with shining eyes, she asked: “Well?”

“The Golden Company was defeated without much effort, Your Grace. Your help with the elephants was very valuable,” said Jorah.

“Ser Loras?” She asked.

“We fared well with the Lannister men that came to meet us. We regrettably lost some men under the archers but the casualties were minimal. The Tyrell army is ready to protect King’s Landing.”

“Very well. I will appreciate you staying at Lord Varys’ side.”

“But- Your Grace. I - I am not staying here while my husband fights in Winterfell. You said you wanted him fighting at your side, then I will go as well. My second in command will stay behind.”

Daenerys looked at Tyrion who nodded. “It only makes sense. Ser Loras has already lost family when separated in… difficult circumstances. He is also a great fighter and would come useful in battle.”

“The Dornish forces will take anyone willing to go south to safety, Your Grace,” Ellaria Sand said.

“Wouldn’t people want to stay in their homes?” Daenerys asked.

Ellaria shrugged. “Regardless of where my home was, I would go as far south as I could.”

Jaime Lannister touched the side of his head and hissed. “The Lannister men are hesitant to join you. They wonder if they will keep their lives and their jobs considering the Lannisters are no longer on The Iron Throne.”

“We need to make sure they do or execute them.”

Jon stepped forward.  “We gave our word.”

Danny nodded. “Yes, we gave our word to spare those who surrender. If they don’t want to protect the city we have no choice but to execute them. What will you have me do? Exile them so that they can regroup and attack us?”

Phil nodded and saw Dan do the same. Nobody wanted to take on the task of executing an entire army post battle but they couldn’t take any chances, especially now. There was no time left to set the peace in King’s Landing and return North. Everything needed to be in place within the next day or so.

“I take it that your sister is dead,” Danny said.

“She is,” Jaime said.

“You kept your word.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” he admitted, his eyes loaded with sadness. “I just - didn’t want her to suffer if I could help it.”

“The Mountain and Qyburn are gone too,” Arya added.

“My dear uncle too,” said Yara Greyjoy with a wide smirk, Ellaria Sand leaning closer to her and quietly lacing their fingers together.

Phil blinked repeatedly. He knew Yara was the one transporting Danny’s allies when needed but he had not realised Ellaria had found comfort in the arms of Yara after Oberyn’s death. She still wore black, but she seemed to be at peace. Hearing about the death of the man who killed her late husband was probably a relief.

“Very well. Thank you. Every single one of you made this possible.”

“Your Grace, if I may,” said Lord Varys. “You should address the people of King’s Landing. You and Lord Renly.”

Phil saw Daenerys frown but Lord Varys continued.

“It has been a few years but people still remember Lord Renly from his position as Master of Laws for King Robert. They know him to be a kind hearted man who often spoke with them before proposing laws that would affect their lives. While people seem to be impressed with your entrance and how the Unsullied kept the peace in the streets during the battle without a massacre, they don’t know you yet. I think it would be best to let people know everyone is in agreement and their safety is the priority.”

“How would they know who is ruling if we both speak?”

“Leaving that detail for after The Long Night would be a display of care for the people instead of The Throne, and you did promise everyone here that you would do exactly that, Your Grace.”

“It’s not a detail to me,” Daenerys said. “Why would I have moved all of Westeros to take The Throne if it was?”

“Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons, The Breaker of Chains…” Varys said. “I agreed to stay behind to keep these people alive, evacuating the city and setting it ablaze myself should the White Walkers win and make it here, for the good of The Realm. I thought we had the same goals in mind. Why would you have cared for human lives? Is that the question you really want to ask?”

“No, of course not. I care about the people, but I also want what is mine.”

“And what good claiming the Throne now would have when you are leaving to fight another war? For all they know you will all be dead by the time The Long Night is over,” Varys pressed. “You asked me to be honest about whether or not you were making a mistake and I am following that request. This could cost you The Iron Throne if you don’t play your cards right.”

“I do believe Varys is right. If we die in battle why would people care? The face they will see here is Varys’ for the time being, and the southern armies,” Tyrion added, although he looked a bit nervous about disagreeing with Danny. “You should both speak.”

Ser Bronn of the Blackwater approached them and nodded. “The people have gathered where the Sept of Baelor stood.”

“Thank you.” Daenerys said. “Lord Renly. What is your opinion on this matter?”

“Well, a few people asked me about you and I said that I was here as a supporter because we haven’t been able to discuss things yet, but I would be willing to stand at your side while you speak.”

Daenerys rubbed circles on her forehead but let out a tired sigh. “Let us address the people then.”

And she did. She let them know that the White Walkers were coming and they were free to stay at King’s Landing while she along with her ally armies would be trying their best to keep them safe. The people had the choice to travel to Highgarden, Dorne or stay and once The Others had been defeated return if they so desired. In the end, she decided to stand with every single commander at her side and the people called their names, thanking them for ending Cersei’s ruling and for all the resources they had brought to the city to brave the winter.

BRAN

The raven flew from stone to stone guiding Bran on his climb up the BrokenTower, calling his name with more urgency when he paused or took a moment to think. He remembered now! It was the Three-Eyed Raven that had guided him there that day, and his croak had been the reason Cersei Lannister had broken the kiss she was giving her brother and looked to the window causing Jaime to push him to keep their secret. The Three-Eyed Raven had caused his fall. 

Bran asked to be returned to his bedroom and looked into the fire with a frown. There was still something he was missing - many things, potentially - but he needed to find a way to stop the Night King. Now that he was visiting the memories on his own, there was so much more to see than when he was learning, it was as if the blindfold had fallen from his eyes. Bran had a bad feeling about it.

He decided to visit his former master at the time he became the Three-Eyed Raven. A much prouder and younger man stood outside the cave, his white blond hair blowing in the wind as he entered. He greeted the Children of the Forest as if he had met them before and Leaf guided him to the tree.

“You promised I would become much more powerful than I am now,” he said.

Leaf smiled and nodded, her face gentle and innocent looking. “That is correct. All you have to do is learn the history of Westeros and wait for the next Three-Eyed Raven. Only then you will be free to use your powers.”

“How long will it take?”

She cocked her head and pushed him to lean against the weirwood tree. “Not long. Not long at all.”

Bran frowned. He knew the man had waited for him at least a few thousand years. The Children of the Forest had lied to him. He watched as the man aged, standing by the tree until he started to grow roots, the limits between his body and the weirwood long gone. His white hair grew longer and longer as did his nails and his face lost all semblance of humanity.

“How much longer? You promised,” he reminded Leaf.

“Only a few more years.”

“He’s seen me, the Night King. He will come for me. Why did you create him?”

“We had to protect ourselves against the humans, but the threat became so dangerous we had to work with them to keep the White Walkers away.”

“You lied to me. Everyone I have ever known is dead, you used me to keep an eye on him and train the next Three-Eyed Raven. Everything you promised-”

Leaf smiled at him. “You’ve gotten it. You wanted power, you wanted magic and knowledge and we have given it to you. If you want your freedom, you only need to wait. The young wolf will soon be here.”

“Soon is only an expression when you have been alive for thousands of years,” the man said. “I will wait for him - and I will let him and your creation destroy each other and bring you down in the process.”

“Others have tried, yet here we are,” she said and walked into one of the tunnels, deeper into the cave.

Bran’s eyes rolled back and he was in his bedroom once again. Disturbed about his new findings, Bran decided to warg into a raven and fly beyond The Wall to see how close the Night King was. It took some time but the army was hard to miss, corpses as far as the eye could see marching to Eastwatch. They were too close, there wasn’t even time to let the men of The Watch know. 

He saw the Night King reach for something, it was… the horn. The horn of the First Men, the one they had used to -

The horn’s sound reverberated through the forest, making The Wall shake from its foundation until it cracked and started to fall in giant pieces of ice, taking the men standing atop it to the ground. Thousands of years of magic finally freed from its ice prison, a sharp screech piercing the air as the ice spikes emerged from the ground, a bright blue eye with a slitted pupil opening. The creature stood from its lair, extending its wings before flying into the sky. 

The Ice Dragon was free.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #phan au #succubusphan fics #game of thrones #got fic #ospbb 2022

[the-fiction-witch]

Pillow Talk P2

TV SHOW GAME OF THRONES COUPLE BRAN X READER RATING: SMUT

I yawned a little running my hand down Bran's soft skin I could tell I had slept for a good while and had a very deep sleep, but I felt a stiffness pressing against me making me blush a little at the thought of our cuddle making him so hard, I had many nights cuddled with jojen like this or well-tried to, he likes to roll up in his blankets like a caterpillar cocoon and not really accept my cuddles, but I had never felt him get this hard, honestly I had only ever woken to him having an odd semi night he had spooned me in the cold, but he always denied them and went off into the woods to change, I felt a kiss on my head making me stir a little opening my eyes, it was early so early there was barely any light, the fire died out and everyone still asleep

"ummm ... Hello" he whispered "did you sleep alright?" He asks

"Perfect, best sleep I've had in years" I giggle "with a soft chest to lay on and snuggly cuddles”

“Well you can have my chest and my cuddle wherever you like little flower”

“I did feel a hard cock pressing against my leg" I smirk

"Oh? you felt that?" He smirked “well, when I have such a lovely little flower snuggled so close to me in her cute little dresses you can’t blame me” He smirked running my fingers down my waist gently tugging on the little ropes of my dress a little I giggled innocently unable to bring myself to stop him

"Uhh! Y/n..." He groaned in shock as he saw my underdress and exposed skin

“What is it?”

“Your beautiful” He gasped “however could he turn away from you” he smirked "Shhh" he whispered "Don't want jojen to hear you" he smirked kissing down my neck and his hand moved one grasping and fondling my breast though my underdress the other tugging up my dresses skirts and gently stroking his fingers across my admittedly wet folds “ummmm so wet. I bet jojen doesn’t make you this wet little flower” he smirked “now stay quiet and I’ll take care of you” he smirked

"It's hard to stay quiet when your - uhhhh" I gasped

“Awww I know little flower, just stay quiet else we’ll get caught” He smirked rubbing harder more mercilessly on my clit I was often having to nuzzle close to him in order to stop my audible gasps and moans I knew I was close and bran was enjoying himself alot until we heard movement so we quickly separated and sat up as I diod my dress back up noticing it was jojen stretching and yawning

“Morning Jojen” I smiled

“Morning” He groaned getting up and going off into the woods to… I honestly don’t know I assume for a bath or something

“Times up then little flower, We’ll finish off tonight” Bran whispered

I smiled as I looked to each person in our group each fast asleep I smiled moving away from the fire Bran had put his little bed around the corner a way from the fire tonight in this camp I assume to perhaps give us privacy “Bran?” I whispered as I went over

"Hello beautiful" he smirked

"Hello Brandon" I giggle

"You coming to bed then my sweet little flower? Or are you going to go snuggle with that passive fiance of yours?"he smirked

“With you, if thats okay” “Of course, just remember. Quiet” he smirked "do you want to come under the furs with me?" He smirked

“I would” I giggled climbing into the little makeshift bed with him he sat up on his elbows looking at me I smiled sitting beside him he smirked resting his hand on my cheek pulling me to kiss him I happily kissed back for a good while, he smirked more and tugged his shirt off before almost growling at me "off" he ordered “all of it. Now”

“Bran I-”

“Come on little flower, don’t keep me in suspense” he smirked

I blushed and got up slipping off my dress leaving me naked

“Uhhhhh fuck, you are beautiful darling” He smirked “More beautiful then i ever could have imagined you to be” He smirked slipping his hand into his pants to play with himself as he looked at me “I bet even jojen’s never seen you like this?” he smirked

“Never” I blushed

“Better not let him see, he’ll get jealous I got to look first” He smirked "Come on come back to bed my little flower" he smirked pulling me closer kissing me I giggled giving him kisses and running my hand down his chest "humm what are you up to?" He asked

"I just wanted to experiment" I smirk caressing the ties on his pants

“Did you now?” He smirked “well I will happily be your test subject my little flower” he coles

I giggled untiring his pants and slipping my hand in "'ve never touched a boys-”

“A boys cock?”

“A boys cock before" I blushed

“Not even jojens?” “No, he never asks me to-”

“Why wouldn’t he? I’d want such a beautiful woman to touch me, as soon as we were engaged, if we were engaged I’d have moved you into my bed chamber in Winterfell and… done lots of things with you by now” He smirked

“I’m sure you would” I blushed

“So? What do you think?” He smirked

"are they always this big?" I giggled gently rubbing on his shift cock

"When your around" he smirked "uhhhh! Y/n" he groans "please don't stop... Keep going my little flower please" he begs grinding his hips against my hand

“Why?”

“I’m so close already just feeling your little touches, after so long”

“So long?”

“So long of little light touching below the furs watching my little flower " he smirked

"Why?" I ask

"Uhh because I love looking at such a beautiful girls" he smirked rolling his head back on the blankets he was using a pillow "uhh uhhh! More more please" he begs

"Are you an innocent Bran?" I asked

“Of course," he says quickly so I smirked kissing him “are you?”

“I am” I blushed

“How about we removed the burden" he smirked “together my little flower?”

“But jojen-”

“He won’t know any different when your married. And if he gets suspicious just…. Take care of him with your skills and he’ll never even question it” He smirked “Or if he does then hop on your horse to Winterfell and come share my bed, I’ll happily marry you and take care of my little flower forever”

“You mean it?”

“Of course”

“Okay” I blushed

#bran #brandon #bran stark #brandon stark #BranStark #bran stark fanfic #bran stark imagine #bran smut #got bran smut #gotbranstark #branstarkimagine #branstarksmut #bransmut #got #got fanfic #got fanfiction #got fandom #got bran #got brandon strak #got bratheon #game #game of thrones #game of thrones stark #The Game of Thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones bran #IHW #ihw au #ihw imagine #ihw smut

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 8)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 5,455

Summary: Set loosely during Our Man in Madrid (although without spoiling anything, there is some significant canon divergence), Javier and Horacio are plunged back into the harsh reality of war after their reunion and are forced to confront some conflicts of their own.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Canon-typical violence (please bear in mind which ep this chapter partially covers), PTSD symptoms (mostly flashbacks), some religious symbolism, angst (with a side order of fluff though!), smoking, swearing, a handful of vague sexual references but no smut.

Notes: I can’t believe a certain scene is finally done after having it in my head for months (and you may have noticed I laid some of the groundwork for it back in chapter 3, mwaha), phew! Oh and the chapter is named after On The Floor by Brandon Flowers, because the lyrics are kinda on point.

I’ve got a large chunk of chapter 9 already drafted, although life is probably going to be a bit busier over the next couple of months, but I’ll do my best to get as much written as possible. This fic *will* get finished eventually, damnit, if it’s the last thing I do 😂 Thanks to anyone still reading and please feel free to comment/chat about any of it on Tumblr/AO3 ❤️

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 8: On The Floor

Javier’s crumpled sheets lay strewn in a forgotten heap at the foot of the bed, apparently no match for clammy, tangled limbs. A worthy sacrifice that allowed him to rest against Horacio’s torso and entwine their fingers. Javier’s free hand brought a cigarette to his lips as Horacio’s traced in and out of the flares of sunlight that illuminated his form in all the right places. They had passed at least half the day like this already, although it didn’t matter when they had nowhere to be.

It wasn’t rare for them to sit in comfortable silence, but Javier could practically hear the cogs turning inside Horacio’s head. He sensed a shift in his mood earlier that morning after the initial high of their reunion had simmered down. After the real reason for his return had sunk in.

Knowing better than to offer false reassurances, Javier held his cigarette aloft. The mattress shifted as Horacio took a deep inhale, but no immediate exhale followed. Instead, calloused fingers tilted Javier’s jaw upwards. A cloud of vapour blew directly into his mouth as they shared an indulgent kiss as addictive as their nicotine habit.

“Shower with me,” Horacio rasped when they pulled apart. Few sentences could have persuaded Javier to move, but that was one of them.

At first, it was all slick hands, flushed skin pressed against cold tiles and shallow breaths amplified by glass walls. Fingernails dimpled hip bones whilst eager tongues chased water droplets, drawing gasps and shivers with each one caught. Too much, yet still not enough to satisfy their insatiable need for one another. It was an itch they couldn’t scratch, each attempt stoking the flames further. A palpable tension no doubt exacerbated by the return to war looming on the horizon.

Once they had recuperated, Horacio washed the soap from Javier’s spent body, his movements thorough and unhurried. Mellow, restorative touches contrasted against the roughness he was capable of in the heat of the moment, as hands caressed limbs and took extra care over the areas he had marked. One act followed the other as easily as night followed day; just another in a long line of contradictions where Horacio was concerned.

Javier had been physically intimate with his fair share of people over the years, but never like this. Except for the previous night, of course. What they were doing now was very similar and still had the power to overwhelm him. His instinct was to recoil, but another part of him yelled the opposite. A part of him that was gradually becoming easier to listen to. A part of him that was now urging him to stay, to lean into it, to let go.

He waited until Horacio faced the shower faucet, head tilted back and eyes closed as he rinsed the last remnants of sex and sweat from his hair. Javier released his arms from Horacio’s waist and reached for his shampoo bottle, squeezing a generous amount into his palm.

He lifted his tentative hands to Horacio’s head and carded his fingers through his hair. “Let me take care of you,” Javier murmured as he grazed his moustache along Horacio’s shoulders.

Horacio stilled for a moment, deliberating whether to give in or not. It dawned on him the last time they’d done this – or at least something much like it – was after Diana Turbay. Heaviness swelled in his chest as the sudden intrusive thoughts mingled with memories of dissolving into Javier’s lap. Not that he’d forgotten; he never allowed himself to. If he dwelled too long, he could still taste the gunshot residue in the air and smell the musty damp of the building they’d stormed. A nauseating scent that had clung to his uniform even once laundered.

He glanced at his right hand as the spray cascaded over his trigger finger. The harder he stared, the stronger his belief the water had turned to a flowing river of crimson. Who knew how much more blood would be shed? And how much would be on his hands? His breathing quickened as he scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head in an attempt to quieten his mind.

“Hey, you still with me?” Javier nuzzled into the crook of Horacio’s neck. He didn’t know exactly where he’d gone but could hazard a guess.

Horacio came to as Javier’s placid tones drifted into his ear. “Er…yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just relax. I’ve got you.” Javier’s hushed words were delicate and gentle as if he was trying to coax a frightened animal to safety and, to some extent, he was.

Horacio grunted and lolled his head back to meet Javier’s hands as they built up a lather. They massaged across his scalp in rhythmic circles, the soft yet firm pressure chipping away at the layers of apprehension. Hands Horacio had come to realise would always be there to catch him when he fell, something he was still getting used to. Not from a lack of trust but from the years of conditioning where resilience and control were necessary for survival.

The rising steam enveloped them in a protective cocoon from the outside world. For now, all Horacio knew was Javier’s soothing ministrations, along with the calming notes of eucalyptus and cedarwood. He recognised the fragrance from his pillows, from his clothes and from the countless times he’d buried himself in Javier’s hair. Heady, grounding, home.

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Sunday began much like the previous morning, slow and languorous as they lost themselves in each other again. But this time, Horacio had a flight to catch and an apartment in Medellín to move back into, so he was up and dressed before Javier.

“You sure I can’t drive you to the airport?”

“You know we can’t risk it. Plus, you look far too comfortable as you are.” Horacio smiled as he admired the view of Javier stretched across the bed on his stomach with his arms wrapped around a pillow. His upper back and broad shoulders peeked out over the top of the sheets like a delectable treat Horacio was having trouble resisting.

He settled for sitting on the edge of the mattress and allowing his fingers to trail across the warmth of Javier’s pliant body.

Javier all but purred and leaned into Horacio’s touch. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“You’re far too tempting. And actually, I’ve still got 20 minutes.” His mouth was already working its way down Javier’s neck when they heard a muffled knock at the door.

They both froze and silenced immediately. “Shit! Wait here, I’ll get rid of whoever the fuck that is.” Javier heaved a sigh as he got out of bed, tugging on his jeans with the cigarette he’d picked up from the nightstand perched between his lips.

As he walked from the bedroom to the front door, he cursed under his breath at being denied what he imagined was about to be a very pleasurable 20 minutes. He looked through the peephole to identify the culprit; it was Steve. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Steve? What the—? I thought you were in Medellín this weekend?”

“Good mornin’ to you too, Javi.” Steve mock-saluted at his partner’s less than friendly welcome. “I figured I’d left it late enough for your friend to leave,” he continued with a wink and peered past Javier on the off-chance someone was in view.

Javier inhaled on his cigarette, stalling for time as he tried to think of any incriminating evidence on display behind him. Fortunately, Horacio’s luggage was out of sight. And his need for tidiness meant he’d scooped up every item of clothing from the floor on Friday night. “My…friend?” Playing dumb was about his only line of defence by this point.

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but the walls are paper-thin in this place. I was gonna stop by when I got back yesterday but noticed – against my will, I should add – you were otherwise engaged. A lot.” The glee on Steve’s face as he teased his partner couldn’t have been further from Javier’s rabbit-in-the-headlights expression as he scrambled to disguise the panic that had set in.

“Seriously, Steve, what do you want?” Javier was wrong; playing dumb and grouchy deflection were his two lines of defence.

“Connie called after you left on Friday.”

“Is she okay? And Olivia?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. They’re both fine. She wanted to talk things through and I didn’t want half the CNP and fuck knows who else listening in. Not to mention, those bunks weren’t designed for people of my height. So, I thought I’d come back here and catch whichever flight you’re on tomorrow.”

“Right, of course, makes sense. Did it go okay with Connie?”

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Steve couldn’t hide his smile as he spoke. “She’s agreed to come back. Connie’s sister’s looking after Olivia, so I dunno how long she’ll be able to stay, but it’s a start.”

“That’s great news, Steve.” As frustrating as this unexpected visit was, Javier couldn’t deny how pleased he was for them. He hated seeing Steve in such a mess and he’d missed Connie too.

“Thanks, man. Things just haven’t been right since she left.”

Javier tried to ignore the ache at having to keep his equivalent of Connie hidden away in his bedroom, like some sort of dirty secret. It was how he’d always operated when it came to other men. Not that he’d ever had anything comparable to this with another man before, or with anyone. It was another reason he was grateful for Connie’s return. Someone who didn’t judge and who he didn’t have to lie to. Although, this had been their closest call so far and it was hard not to wonder how much longer they could remain under Steve’s radar.

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Horacio returned to Carlos Holguín on Monday, after spending the rest of Sunday unpacking and settling back into his apartment. The school remained unchanged in so many ways yet different in others. There were a lot of faces he didn’t recall, along with the heavy absence of too many he did. Trujillo welcomed him with a firm embrace that knocked him backwards with its force. Trujillo had soon regaled him with every detail from the last year, but Horacio didn’t mind. It felt good to be back with his men again.

Being reacquainted with the DEA, however, was something of a farce. He could barely contain his smirk when he took Javier’s palm in a bracing handshake, fingers catching on his pulse point. Horacio lightly pressed into the tender skin at his wrist, where he knew there would still be faint traces of their weekend escapades. He detected the minutest flinch in Javier’s grip as they greeted each other like the long-lost colleagues they were supposed to be.

A brief flash of mischief crossed Javier’s pupils as his hand reached up to pat Horacio’s arm, much like it had done in Tolú. One light slap followed with another as they exchanged pleasantries before the touch morphed into a prominent squeeze around Horacio’s bicep.

Horacio gulped and gave him a pointed look as he moved on to shake Murphy’s hand. Despite his best efforts, his mind raced with flashbacks; not least of all one involving the man in front of him almost catching them in the act 24 hours ago.

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Whilst Horacio was now housed in a different wing of the school, it was easy to forget how long he’d been away. Putting on his uniform that morning was like wearing a second skin, even when part of him wished it hadn’t been so easy. He sat behind his new desk, already surrounded by stacks of paperwork and manila files. Some things never changed. His new workspace wasn’t quite as grand as the Consulate, but he didn’t expect to spend as much time in it as he had in Madrid.

The tranquillity of the last year already seemed like a distant, idyllic dream. He wasn’t ready to let go of it, but he also had to remember why he was here. His country and his President were counting on him like never before. But then, so was the man he loved. An extradition-supporting-yet-bureaucracy-hating DEA agent of all people. He could have laughed at the irony of it if the stakes weren’t so high.

The sound of the door opening and closing drew his eyes up from a batch of authorisation forms awaiting his signature. Perhaps said DEA agent’s ears were burning.

“Thought you could do with this before the meeting.” Javier carried two steaming mugs of coffee across the room. He passed one to Horacio as he stood up from his desk, their fingers brushing together in the process. Much like their earlier handshake, it was an innocent gesture on the face of it, but with a hidden salacious edge that sent shockwaves through them both.

“Thanks,” Horacio replied as he reached for the cup. He would take any caffeine he could get his hands on right now.

They’d passed the point at which it was customary for one of them to let go of the mug. Instead, their fingers danced over each other’s; probing and teasing in a silent and secret flirtation that pushed the boundaries, given Steve’s and Trujillo’s imminent arrival. They couldn’t help themselves, though.

They heard voices approaching the door and broke apart, all but knocking the coffee out of their hands but recovering in time as Steve and Trujillo entered the room. Javier caught the tail end of an eye roll from Steve as he made a point of sipping from the drink he was forced to make himself. Shit.

Once the door was shut, they got straight down to business and discussing tactics. Gaviria had offered the CNP all available resources, but Horacio had no intention of following in Pinzón’s footsteps.

“No more large-scale operations. Search Bloc goes back to small-scale tactics.”

“Amen,” Javier replied as soon as Horacio had finished speaking. It distracted Horacio for a fraction of a second before he continued, both men unaware of the flicker of bemusement that passed between Trujillo and Steve.

“Stealth operations, surprise raids, that sort of thing. We change the game. But first, we let Pablo know we’re back.”

With that, a convoy of trucks set off through the streets of Medellín. It wouldn’t be long before news of Horacio’s return made its way back to Escobar. It was a risky strategy when it blew the element of surprise out of the water, but Horacio couldn’t help himself with everything Escobar had done in his absence. Too many colleagues and friends needlessly gunned down with no consequence. Something had to be done. He knew he got under Pablo’s skin, so in his mind, it was worth it. Especially imagining the look on his face when he discovered Horacio had decorated his mural in Barrio Pablo Escobar. A cheap shot, quite literally, but if that didn’t get his attention, nothing would.

There was method in Horacio’s madness, as it had the desired effect of drawing Escobar’s spotters out of the woodwork. With the assistance of Centra Spike and the DEA, their intel captured six radio transmissions. The trouble was, they didn’t have the exact locations of the transmissions.

“Our best bet is to corner each of these buildings,” Steve referred to the maps laid out on the table in front of them. “This time, we hit the ground.”

Horacio considered Murphy’s suggestion for a moment, unable to disagree with his logic for a change. “Trujillo, load up six unmarked cars, four men per car. Instruct them to leave in 20-minute intervals to avoid attention. Clear?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Trujillo confirmed before he left the room to set their plan in motion.

“Peña, you’re with me. Murphy, Jacoby, you stay here and guide us.” The words left Horacio’s mouth before he’d considered the implications of them. It was second nature to have Javier by his side after so long apart. It was selfish, but he didn’t want to be without him if he didn’t have to be.

Apart from Horacio’s procession through Medellín, the two of them had been inseparable all day. Whether catching stolen moments on their breaks in a disused classroom with the door wedged shut, or gravitating towards each other in every meeting they found themselves in, they were always in each other’s periphery and personal space. Far enough apart so as not to raise questions, but the proximity still grounded them.

Javier, on the other hand, could already feel Steve shooting daggers at him. The look was more for Horacio’s benefit than his, even if he didn’t dare aim it at his intended target. This plan, after all, was Steve’s idea.

“Careful out there, partner,” Steve mumbled under his breath as Javier followed Horacio out of the room. The heat of Steve’s scowl blazed into the back of Javier’s head as he walked away. Shit. No way was that going to be the end of it. They had entered into the territory of suspicious behaviour and Steve would want to know why he wasn’t included.

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Javier hung back whilst Search Bloc changed into their civilian clothes. He ducked inside the door to the locker room before it swung shut behind the last group of men to leave. Horacio was the only one left.

“What the hell was that back there?”

Horacio pulled his grey polo shirt over his head, not bothering to turn around at the interruption. “What are you talking about?”

“Steve?”

“This is a covert op; I’m bringing the exact number of men we need. It’s nothing personal.”

He realised that was at least a half-truth these days. Murphy had raised his shackles in the past when it came to Javier, before Tolú at least. Now, it was Murphy’s lazy attempts to learn much in the way of Spanish several years down the line and his general contrariness whenever they crossed paths. However, his intention wasn’t to spite Murphy (much). If truth be told, Steve hadn’t factored in Horacio’s decision at all, as all he could see and think about was Javier, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it.

“I don’t think Steve will see it that way,” Javier scoffed.

“You expect me to make tactical decisions based on not upsetting your partner?” Horacio shook his head and rolled his eyes, still facing away from Javier as he folded the fatigues he’d swapped for a pair of khakis.  

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“He’s not stupid, Horacio. He nearly caught us yesterday for fuck’s sake! If you keep showing me preferential treatment, he’s gonna start asking questions. Trust me.”

“I do trust you.” A mild offence crept into Horacio’s tone at even a frivolous doubting of that sentiment. “But he didn’t see or hear anything yesterday that could implicate me, so let him ask all he wants.”

“And that’s a risk you’re willing to take, is it?” Javier didn’t know why, but he’d never mentioned Connie to Horacio and now wasn’t the ideal time to, either. She had kept her silence and of course, Javier trusted her, but her imminent return alongside Steve’s raised suspicions made him jittery nonetheless.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Javier. Don’t you think we’ve got bigger fucking things to worry about right now?” As if to further emphasise his point, he stashed his uniform in the locker in front of him and attached his gun holster to his trousers.

“Yeah, well I could say the same about those.”

Horacio finally stilled then pivoted, his eyes landing on Javier’s. “Meaning?”

Javier dropped his gaze to the floor and bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Forget it.”

“No, go on.” Horacio took a step closer. His voice kept as low and steady as ever, but the challenge was clear in the fierce glare Javier could feel radiating into his skull despite not meeting it.

Javier sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting his choice of words, but knowing Horacio wouldn’t let it go now. “Your little stunt with Escobar’s mural for starters.”

“It got us the intel we needed, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” Javier paused and ran his thumb along his top lip as he contemplated his next sentence. “Don’t you think it could be seen by some as a bit…reckless?”

“Reckless?” Horacio’s eyebrows raised before he nodded with a sarcastic pout. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I should be more careful what I say in future as well. Especially to those running scared of their own feelings.” Shit. He didn’t know where the fuck that had come from.

Javier let out a wry laugh and shook his head, somehow taken aback but also unsurprised by the gut punch that blow had landed him. “You want me to say it back just to make you feel better? Like it magically makes up for your apparent death wish and all of this?” He gestured around the room in place of anything else to better represent the status quo.

The damage done by their words was evident in both men’s eyes as their argument shifted into something else entirely. Something raw and visceral, where repressed feelings didn’t so much as bubble to the surface, but rather violently explode. Where the ability to wound was almost too efficient. An advantage when out in the field, but not when it came to each other.

“No, I want you to say it because you mean it, Javier.” His curt words hung between them, suspended in a vacuum until Horacio continued like the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do. You coming or not?” He’d gone too far but wasn’t in a position to deal with it whilst there was work to be done. So, instead, he adjusted the collar of the beige jacket he’d tugged over his shoulders and headed out of the door to reconvene with his men.  

Javier stood speechless in the locker room for a long moment. Once again, he had no choice but to follow, although this time he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

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A modest fleet of vehicles travelled under the cover of darkness, as per Horacio’s orders. He and Javier were in separate teams, giving them much-needed distance after striking each other with uncomfortable truths they hadn’t meant to lay bare. As they approached their assigned locations, they had no choice but to put it all on hold, as their focus shifted to the task at hand.

The night air was brisk despite the lack of breeze. It was the kind of weather that was deceptive in its stillness. The kind where there was a threat of an incoming storm, but it could change course at the last minute. The kind where even those who thought they had prepared for all eventualities could be caught off guard.

Javier was glad he’d opted to wear his leather jacket before leaving base. He sat in the back seat of his team’s vehicle; one hand poised on the door handle, whilst the other clutched his cigarette. The steady hit of nicotine just about numbed whatever the fuck he felt in the aftermath of the last few days. And yet he stubbed it out with relief when there was movement on the street at long last.

He watched and waited as the spotter closed up the motorcycle garage he’d had his eye on for the last hour. The teenage boy had nearly gotten away as he pulled the shutter down, but Javier’s reflexes were quicker. He swooped in and grabbed the bottom of the door before it could close. He yanked it back up again and came face to face with their target, who was now surrounded with no way out.

A few streets away, Horacio’s team knocked on doors but received nothing but a wall of silence. Either no one knew anything or they weren’t prepared to talk if they did. He suspected the latter. It may have been a while since he’d done this, but some things remained a constant. Eventually, he gave chase to a young boy of about six or seven, who he caught by chance when questioning the boy’s mother on the doorstep. Horacio followed him up to the rooftops, where his team uncovered a stash of radios. Success.

Javier’s team were the last to arrive at the agreed meeting point, a secluded alley concealed by trees and high walls. They were shrouded in inky-graphite except for the hazy bulbs of their vehicles and a pale, spectral glow between the increasingly turbulent clouds.

Javier had become astute at reading others; whether it be their subtle eye movements, habitual ticks, or the intonation of their voice. People often betrayed their feelings or motivations without him having to push. He’d always had a natural aptitude for it, but he had honed his skills in Colombia, especially when dealing with informants.

For a long time, Horacio was a closed book to Javier; a robust, impenetrable wall of stoicism. There were still instances that threw him, but generally speaking, he had a good read on him these days. However, there was something dangerous and volatile in the air as Javier observed from a distance whilst Horacio lined up the spotters. Spotter was no longer the right word, either. It occurred to him when he apprehended the teenage boy; these were children. Using any other language was a convenient way to distance themselves from the reality of the situation and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Horacio prowled down the line of children, who were on their knees with their hands resting behind their heads. His silhouette stalked wolf-like along the wall behind them with each movement, like a bad omen lying in wait. “Do you know who I am? My name is Colonel Horacio Carrillo. Last week, 30 police officers were murdered.”

“Those pigs probably deserved it.” One of the older teen boys was brave – or stupid – enough to engage. It wasn’t just the fact he’d mouthed off, but also the words he’d chosen. The notion that so many good men in any way deserved their barbaric deaths was an insult of the highest order to Horacio.

“Shut up, kid,” Javier murmured under his breath. A cowardly plea, seeing as it had gone unheard and unnoticed.

The atmosphere in the alley dangled precariously on a knife-edge, hinging on the slightest movement or utterance. It vibrated and buzzed through Javier from head to toe, like a live wire in jeopardy of short-circuiting at any moment.

“Many of those pigs were my friends.” Horacio’s voice was quiet and measured but not lacking in venom.

Javier had witnessed it many times before. A fact that was still difficult to reconcile when comparing this version of Horacio to the one in his bed and shower. He’d seen grown men crumble and whimper and beg when on the receiving end of this version. It was often the last voice they heard before they were put out of their misery. Because it wasn’t the gun or the blade at their jugular that was the most terrifying part of the ordeal; it was the ruthless tone of the man wielding them. But one jarring difference stood between then and now: these weren’t grown men.

“Those perched on rooftops, guiding murderers with radios are assassins themselves. I hope after this encounter, you’ll reconsider working for someone who thinks he’s above the law.” The ominous sound of Horacio cocking his pistol echoed around the claustrophobic confines of the alley.

A deathly silence followed, broken by more ill-judged bravado from the boy.

Horacio had only planned on scaring them. Perhaps bringing them in for questioning and a night in the cells at the most. But now, palpitations pounded through him; from the adrenaline or rage or grief or guilt, he wasn’t sure any longer.

All he could see was red. Blood red. An endless deluge congealing in front of his eyes and under his skin. He could feel his own surging through his body with each deafening thud of his pulse, knowing how easily it could be stopped in its tracks. Knowing how fine the line between life and death was and how many had fallen on the wrong side of it. All because of one man. One man hellbent on making Colombia bleed. And oh, how he’d succeeded. Not just by inflicting the wounds himself but by threatening and coercing and driving others into doing it for him. Pushing people to the brink and beyond until their bloodlust rivalled his own. Now, they were all drowning in it with no way to stem the flow.

He opened his eyes to find his gun raised to the boy’s head. His wrist was stable, but his trigger finger twitched and stalled as he struggled with the ringing in his ears that forced his eyes shut to abate the pain. As his lids closed, he was back in Tolú. Half-conscious on the ground, blood streaming down his face. That was why he recognised the ringing, now joined by gunfire. Not in the present, but it was his weapon. Gunshot residue and the stench of damp suffocated his senses. But then he was sat in a pew, or was he knelt on the floor? Rosary beads clenched between his fingers, and a cross seared into his chest, heart and soul. No, not a cross. His cross. Their cross.

A distant but familiar voice reached from somewhere in the back of his mind. A voice that escalated in urgency and insistence the longer he stood with the boy’s life in his right hand. A voice that had always been with him, despite the fact he didn’t trust it as much as he wanted to. It swirled in his head until the words crystalised and replaced the white noise consuming his ears. Except you didn’t shoot him. Because you made a choice, Javier.

He came to with a sharp inhale and his gaze fell on the boy; in particular, the wooden crucifix at his neck. Fear reflected in the whites of his eyes and filled Horacio with pity and revulsion. As if hit with a moment of clarity, he elevated his gun above the boy’s head and fired several times at the concrete wall behind him.

The boy flinched and covered his ears with his hands, but at least he was alive.

“Tell your friends if you continue to work for Pablo Escobar and I catch any of you on the rooftops, next time I won’t miss. You can leave.” Nobody moved a muscle until he bellowed “Leave!” in a tone that even made Javier jump. The children scattered without another word.

Horacio stood stock still, breathing hard and staring at the bullet holes in the wall. Streaks of moonlight illuminated his features and brought into focus the glassy sheen that had settled across his pupils. A light tap on his shoulder startled him out of his daze.

“Colonel, are you alright?”

“Yes…I’m fine, thank you, Trujillo. You can head back to the cars with the others. I’ll join you shortly.”

“If you’re sure, Colonel?”

Horacio was already facing Javier in the shadows. “I’m sure,” he confirmed, although his eyes remained fixed on Javier’s for several seconds before he turned back around. “Honestly, you can go. Thank you.”

“No problem, Colonel.” Trujillo’s narrowed eyes darted multiple times between the two men until he had no choice but to make his exit.

Once they were alone, Horacio approached Javier, who still hadn’t moved or spoken. His arms hung rigid by his sides, his fingers on his right hand twitching whilst his jaw ground back and forth. His eyes bore the same watery glaze as Horacio’s.

“Are you okay?” Horacio asked, surprised at how strained his words came out as they caught in his throat like dense ash.

“What do you fucking think?” Javier scoffed.

“Look, I—”

“Can we not do this now?” Javier pleaded as his hands cradled his hips and his eyes descended to the ground. “I, er, think I just need some space.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever you need.” A stony silence permeated the oppressive air between them, both men already too battle-weary for another fight. “I – I’m sorry, though. For putting you through that.”

“You always are.” There was no vitriol in Javier’s words, only resigned acceptance that stung Horacio harder than if he’d screamed in his face.

He watched Javier retreat into the night with almost as much haste as the children, leaving him to carry his discharged gun and the ever-present crushing weight of remorse.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mummy, come back!” 

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

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

“We’ll be happier here?” 

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him. 

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

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

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Busy with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That seems sudden,” she says.

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

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

***

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

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

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you see?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

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

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part. 

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?” 

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

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

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

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?” 

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

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

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.” 

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

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

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

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

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kaleidoscope?” 

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!” 

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

***

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

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

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

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

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

“Oh, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

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

***

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

***

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

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

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

“So, what’s going on?”

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

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

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

“Harry?” she whispers.

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

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

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

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

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

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

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

He turns around and doesn’t look back. 

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

*** Ten Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That last bit sticks to her. 

***

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

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

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

“Good news?” she teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“And what did you do?” 

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

Ava snorts into her drink. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?” 

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

“Then why bother coming back!"

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

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

“Pen–”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“You.” 

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

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

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

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I insist.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s completely beside the point!” 

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

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

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Then he left.

***

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

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

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

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

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

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

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

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

It’s heartache. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that–”

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

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

It makes her sick. 

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

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

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

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

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

And it shouldn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“I have to.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nod is all she can afford. 

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

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

She looks happy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father. 

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever inspires you.” 

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

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

***

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

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

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

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

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

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

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

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

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

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

“Do I still get to be called auntie?” 

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

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

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

***

Two Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

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

[littlefreya]

Discreet

Summary: It might kill him if he touches her, but one touch of hers is worth a thousand deaths.

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Virgin OFC

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sexual intercourse, deflowering, slight fluff and angst.  

A/N: Dedicated to @jolly-polly who basically prompted this idea to me. 💖  I find it quite odd that Charles Brandon was what got me into Henry from the first place yet it’s only the second story I write about him.

Anyway just want to clarify, OFC is not underage, only slightly younger than Charles. 

Thanks my amazing @agniavateira for being the best beta ever and for the amazing @fivequartersoftheorange​ for the beautiful cover art.

Title: Discreet

The royal halls were a poorly-lit labyrinth. Sneaking through the narrow corridors, Charles hoped to lose the king who was more than agitating for the last couple of weeks. It was either politics or women; Charles grew tired of hearing about both matters, especially on the Boleyn girl. The king was so infatuated with her, unable to see through her veil of wickedness.

But certainly, contradicting the king’s opinion was never an option. 

The young duke looked over his shoulder to check if someone was behind him when something soft bumped into his chest. With one swift scuffle, he was on the floor, hearing a high-pitched yelp. 

Rubbing his back while leaning forward, he saw a bundle of fabrics softly fluttering to the ground as the woman in front of him attempted to sit up. He moved to his knees and reached a hand, fishing an elbow from the mountain of silks. A set of familiar hazel eyes peered back at him as he pulled her up. 

Of course, it had to be her.  

Coveting, the king’s niece was never an option either. 

“Lady Emily,” he greeted, feeling a sudden relief. Seeing her was the highlight of his day. The young flower, always a breath of fresh air, like a gentle mountain chill. 

“Your Grace,” she answered, allowing him to help her stand. Her delicious bosom sunk into her cleavage with slight nervousness. Brandon had this effect on every lady at court, and some of the men, too. His eyes were like precious blue stones, and those lips looked like they gift the sweetest kisses. Though she was young, she wasn’t naive. She overheard the maids; Charles had a unique reputation.  

Yet her heart still fluttered the moment their gazes met; it always did when he entered the room and bowed to her, gazing as if she was the most beautiful jewel in the king’s crown.

“I was wondering where you were this morning.” He remarked, his fingers still enclosed around her small elbow.  

She gave a little awkward smile in return and glanced around to see if anyone was approaching. “Hiding.”

“From me?” Charles prodded and offered a confused grin, exposing two sharp fangs. He wondered if she knew how much he yearned to see her, how his day was never complete until that moment when she appeared in his sight, even if it was brief. Some days he even sought for her, sneaking past her guards just to get a chaste glimpse.   

Emily didn’t pull her hand from him, even though she felt his thumb brush over the back of her arm. A shiver rippled through her skin. 

“From my uncle, silly,” she answered boldly.

A Cheshire grin painted Charles’s face as he finally released her elbow and moved to dust his attire. “Seems like we’re at the same predicament.” 

“Oh?” she exclaimed. Something in her expression suddenly changed, shifting from grace to gloom. “Does he speak of marrying you off as well?” 

Charles felt his heart clench. The beautiful crystal blue of his eyes nearly shatters at the thought of Lady Emily being given away to an unworthy pursuer, just to benefit politics. 

“No,” he replied, low and broken. His mind fell absent as he reached out his hand to caress her cheek. Touching her was a crime, to which the punishment would have been his hand. But as she tilted her head and leaned into his touch for more, he mused that she was worth losing a limb for.  

“My lady, I won’t let that happen.”

She scoffed sadly and shook her head, opening her mouth to say something when heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. Without thinking, she gripped his wrist with one hand and her dress with the other, rushing toward one of the rooms along the hall.

“It’s him,” she whispered frantically and led Charles into the great library. The vast room was empty. Tall bookcases were filled with rare inscriptions while tapestries and maps decorated the walls. In the centre of the room, a large wooden desk stood with a red cushioned chair. Awaiting the king.

Lost within the storm of panic, Emily held Charles’ hand to her chest while her eyes stared at the empty air, trying to listen if the danger was still near. She hardly even noticed how inappropriate the gesture was, her chest heaving against the back of his hand.

And Charles was lost, his mind utterly absent except for the feeling of her heartbeat. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Many women yearned for his touch, throwing themselves at his feet. They were beautiful young ladies, yes; but they weren’t her. 

She was on his mind when he slept and when he woke up; she was on his mind when he was inside another woman. 

Damned be, she belonged to him.

“Lady Emily,” he called out, his fingers closing around hers. His free hand reached to comb through her hair. 

Surprised by his touch, she turned to him, widening her eyes. Was the handsome Duke of Suffolk courting her? 

“What are you doing?”

Charles gazed deeply into her eyes, letting his thumb tug her bottom lip. She did not flinch, yet he could feel her heart skipping at his tender ministrations.

“I won’t let him give you away,” he vowed, his fist between her breasts as they pushed up through her corset. “I want you to be mine.”

There was a war in her mind, a furious battle raging between grief, danger, and passion all at once. Her lips tingle, and she could sense it, wanting for something more.

She wanted to be taken by Brandon, like the maidens she read about in her books. 

Beautiful Charles looked down at her with a look full of desire; his nose bumped into her ever so slightly as he caught a whiff of her sweet scent. He nibbled the plush of his bottom lip and growled as she squeezed his hand in hers.  

“We can’t,” was all she could say before they heard the door creak. 

Horrified, she rushed them behind the thick tapestries, finding the hidden servants’ hallway that made for a safe passage to the cellars below. Emily stood with her back, facing Charles, feeling him as he towered behind her while she peeked through the crack in the door. She wasn’t sure which fear was more substantial: the king who marched heavily into the room, or Charles who leaned closer and closer every second.

Henry sulked, walking around in mindless circles as if waiting for someone. He grunted with annoyance and remained in the room.

The young lady held her hands clasped over her mouth with dread, terrified that the king would just so much as hear her breath. Uncle or not, King Henry would be sure to behead both Charles and her for whatever whispered in the wind between them.

The threat of being caught was far too grave, but Charles found that it only made his passion burn far more vigorous. Her scent was sweet and fruity, like fresh blueberries and spiced wine. Inhaling her in, he wondered if those lips tasted as she smelled. 

Would other parts of her have the same flavour? 

The Duke of Suffolk knew for certain then. He wanted her, more than just another conquest, and there were no reins strong enough to keep him at his stables. Even with Henry marching about at the library, Charles felt his need growing impatient. She was finally in his grasp, alone in a narrow space.

Inching closer, he called her by her name, husky and low. "Em..."

Shushing him quietly, she shook her head with protest, but it didn't stop him from leaning into her form. "My lady," he whispered again, lowering his face closer to her exposed collarbone where his tongue met her skin.

The shudder on her breath exhilarated him. Holding her near, he lavished up her neck languidly while pressing his hard groin at her backside. Charles held her near, his tongue pressing the supple skin of her collar bone and ascending to her neck. He pushed his groin into her ass and slipped a hand down her corset to squeeze at her breast. 

Mindlessly, she ground back, panting as she felt his hardness stroke against her despite the heavy silks between them. The little spot between her thighs felt warm and humid; she felt the need to keep her legs clenched together to take care of the horrible friction that awoke between her thighs.

"We shouldn't," she begged, shaking her head. Her breath hitched as she felt his digit brush over her erect nipple. “I never have…”

Charles lifted the heavy skirts of her dress in response and nibbled at her earlobe. "Just say no, and I'll stop milady."

She gasped at his touch and shook her head. But then, she leaned further into his cock. 

"He'll kill us..." 

"Then I shall die a happy man," Charles whispered in her ear as he began fumbling with his trousers. 

A loud screech made them both jerk with slight alarm. The king took his seat at the large desk, letting out a wet cough as he sat poring over a book. Through curtains of red and gold that hid the wooden door, they could see him scratching at his beard while moving his eyes through the pages.

Charles decided then to claim her mouth with fury, distracting her with a kiss while reaching to pull his cock. She did taste sweet, like a delicacy served in a festive feast. She had also never been kissed before, he could tell by the furious beat of her heart under his grasp.

Hoping that they can remain furtive, he lined himself at her dripping entrance, swallowing her tiny whimpers with an exposition of both chaste and vamping kisses. Unyielding of the craving that consumed him.     

Girthy and hard, his manhood tore through her virginity. Tears immediately sprang from her eyes, and she shook as she felt him pulsating and hot, sliding all the way to nest inside her. As drenched as she was, her body still struggled to take him. The rumours about the duke were correct. He was "gifted", and her body resisted this cumbersome invasion. 

"Charles!" she whispered, feeling her broken innocence trickle down her inner thigh. 

His large hand pressed around her jaw, fingers gripping her mouth while the other held her torso.

"Quietly now, little bird, or you'll get us both beheaded." He warned, hearing the king mutter and cough once more. "I vow to you; it will feel good in a minute."

With the promise on his succulent lips, Charles began to slowly edge out while his fingers covered her mouth to muffle her cries. She was still too taut, unfamiliar of the chaos of sensation that swept through her core. Pain jarred into desperation, a throbbing sequence of tremors that she could only interpret as the need for more.

“God,” she mumbled into his hand, pushing herself back into his chest and then pushing herself forward. Charles saddled her hip with one hand, sinking deeper into her blissful canal and groaning low into her hair. She was warm around his cock, her wet walls coveting for more. 

Even if the king was to march toward them and expose them, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

But they couldn’t hear him anymore. Lost in a musty, carnal dance while hidden behind a thick door, they gasped and shoved together. Body to body, wet and squelching. Emily felt white tendrils of warmth tickling through the course of her groin, the sensation overwhelming. Suddenly she was falling, losing her grip as if in a dream. The thing she sought for imploded within her. 

All she could feel was him, rutting into her, unwrapping her pleasure like a flower blooming.

Charles felt the pull of her body; she came crashing around his shaft with an intensity he never experienced before. Her pleasure dragged his on, and he bit into her shoulder to stop himself from yelling as he sprouted into her womb.

Moments have passed, and yet they remain trembling and sweating in each other’s grasp. Charles’ cock still flinched between her convulsing walls while his head laid pressed on her shoulder as he held her close.

“I won’t…” He began to speak, fighting to find his voice. “He won’t take you now, I’ve claimed you.”

Emily felt sadness fill her heart all too sudden. She knew Charles did nothing more than take her maidenhead. She wasn’t his by any means, if the king was to give her away, she was to be passed on like livestock. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she allowed them to fall down her breasts with sorrow.

Seeing her in this state pierced his heart. Charles reached his hand to cradle her jaw and pulled her back against his chest. He pressed soft little kisses over her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears and comforting her.

“I’ll fight to keep you, I’ll wage war if need be.” He promised and then kissed her mouth tenderly, teasing her soft lips. She kissed back, mewling into his mouth. Charles could feel the air pull from her lungs as excitement blossomed in her chest. He would have taken her again right now if he could, but the little bird was crying silent tears in his arms right now.

Unwillingly, he broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t mind if he lost his head just for asking Henry if he can have Emily’s hand. 

She was worth it. 

She was worth everything. 

_____________________________________________

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Charles Brandon #Charles Brandon Fanfiction #the tudors

[love-bokumono-fics]

Fresh Crops! Week of July 26 - August 1, 2021

The week’s newest fics and chapter updates posted on AO3

All fics founds under the general “Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons” tag

Sakura Sisters - by LuluRuru; WIP, 3/?, 9k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town

Relationship: Ships will be revealed soon!; Characters: Claire, Naomi, Brandon, Cliff, Doctor | Trent, Gray, Kai, Rick, Elli | Elly, Jennifer, Karen, Mary the Librarian | Marie, Popuri, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran

Additional Tags: Family, Slow Burn, POV Alternating, Updating tags as I go

Summary: Mineral Town is the destination for these two sisters. Claire appears dainty and sweet but really is childish and a loudmouth. Naomi appears shy and uncaring but is perceptive and a go-getter. The two of them are here for different reasons, but both of them have to manage Sakura Farm together. Will Claire be able to find her childhood friend and the boy who saved her? And will Naomi be able to find her true calling in life? The road ahead will be tough, but these two can do anything if they put their minds together. After all, that’s what sisters are for, right?

Sugar and Spice - by Chibimiie; WIP, 18/?, 25k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Animal Parade

Relationships: Chase/Molly the Farmer, Angela/Luke; Characters: Molly | Hikari, Angela the Farmer, Chase, Luke

Additional Tags: first fic, Slow Burn, at least molly and chase are, oh god how do you tag fics, beginning is kinda rough, angela chapters tend to be shorter, mentions of eating disorders, ya girl was making it up as she went along, alternating povs, Friends to Lovers

Summary: Wanting to get away from past hurts of the city, sisters Molly and Angela decide to respond to a flyer advertising an abandoned farm on the faraway island of Castanet. Leaving behind their closest friends and brother Kasey, the two take a chance and move to the tiny island hoping for a new chance at life.

Wildflower - by EmeraldHaze15; WIP, 4/?, 8k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town

Relationship: To Be Decided; Characters: Claire the Farmer, Harris, More to come - Character, Basically the whole of Mineral Town, Thomas, Saibara, Barley | Mugi, Doug | Dudley, Duke, Sasha, Carter the Pastor, May | Mei

Additional Tags: Tags Contain Spoilers, Abusive Relationships, Running Away, Bruises, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of prior abuse, Emotional Scarring, Trespassing, Domestic Violence, domestic abuse, Pseudonyms, Tags Are Hard, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mineral Town, Peril, No Smut

Summary: The world is a scary place, especially when Claire is all alone. But maybe she can begin to heal in a little place called Mineral Town... Rated 'M' for heavy, dark themes and emotional trauma

Dance Rehearsal - by durotos; Completed, 1/1, 1.2k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/F

Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town

Relationship: Karen/ Female Farmer | Naomi; Characters: Karen, Female Farmer | Naomi

Additional Tags: mashup of mineral towns, Dancing, Sweet Fluff, Crushes

Summary: Karen stops by the ranch and gives Naomi a dancing lesson before the Goddess Festival. Mashup of HM for Girl and Story of Seasons Friends of Mineral Town. Written for a dear friend's birthday!

His Favorite Food - by KouRei (ShinkengerRedBlue); Completed, 1/1, 1.4k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Male Farmer/Ludus; Characters: Ludus, Male Farmer

Summary: Henry gets up bright and early to go see Ludus and the weather lets him get a little closer.

Doug’s Inn - by FriendOfBats; WIP, 2/?, 6k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town

Relationships: Claire the Farmer/Cliff, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added; Characters: Claire the Farmer, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran, Doug | Dudley, Cliff, Rick, Popuri, Kai

Additional Tags: POV Multiple, Drama & Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Eventual Romance, Bittersweet, Angst and Drama, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Bad Decisions, Slice of Life, Angst, Character Development, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags

Summary: Claire “Shelly” McPherson decides, once and for all, to leave the big city and her past behind her. On a whim, she buys a one-way ticket to Mineral Town and books a reservation at Doug’s Inn. It’s there that she meets new friends and discovers, in the idyllic little town, the little secrets that everyone is harboring… secrets not even the town bartender has heard about.

Here You Come Again - by SeasonSuite; WIP, 16/?, 64k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Female Farmer/Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s); Characters: Farmer, Wayne, Frank, Lisette, Ford, Ludus, Trio of Towns ensemble

Additional Tags: Crushes, Falling In Love, Love, farming, Fluff, dolly parton references, Friends to Lovers, cowboy aesthetic, idiots to lovers, Day At The Beach, Flowers, Romance, My First Fanfic, Bonding, Feelings, Humor, Slow Build, Did I Mention Fluff, Angst

Summary: On the first day of her new life, June meets a handsome, smooth-talking postman. Caught between his seemingly earnest words and his philandering reputation, she writes him off as bad news. Over the year, as June struggles to build her new farm, Wayne proves her wrong—then right—then wrong again. or, Westown’s charming postman is known for being perfect, and he’s usually happy to play the part. But when a new farmer tries to get to know the real him, Wayne learns that to be loved, he has to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

#fresh crop monday #harvest moon #story of seasons #trio of towns #friends of mineral town #animal parade #i love seeing all these weekly updates #i can't keep a normal posting schedule to save my life and the people who can do that are low key magical to me #it's a late post I know. I was out of town again this weekend and didn't get the chance to begin drafting posts on Sunday #like I usually do. it's been a busy couple of weeks

[brandonflowers420]

Let me fucking tell you about The Killers fans since I’m burning bridges now. I joined the fandom online, here and on instagram, in 2013. I found it odd that recently newer fans were shocked at how far people would go to defend brandon flowers, but to me-- that’s just how it’s been bro! “The Victims” (a name i’m uncomfortable using now) have always had an unhealthy obsession with Brandon and you can see it in past posts invading his privacy, writing bizarrely dramatic posts about how much they need him, insulting any criticism towards him-- and I’ll admit to directly normalizing and feeding into that. 

As mentioned, I joined in 2013. I had just freshly turned 13 and I was interacting with people probably twice my age thirsting over a man TWICE MY AGE. I remember on instagram I was encouraged to write smut about him-- and you can’t tell me people aren’t able to tell when something is written by a minor. I literally didn’t even know how to format dialogue yet, I probably hadn’t even finished 7th grade english and I was writing p*rn about a man in his mid-30s. I know that in the end it is my parents’ fault for not monitoring my internet usage, but as an adult, I’m able to sense when I’m interacting with a minor, especially a minor who just barely meets the social media age requirement, and I know to treat them as such or not interact with them at all. 

So yeah, I’m not surprised by the actions of “die hard” the killers fans and I’d just thought I share how tone deaf they’ve always been. The energy has always been weird and uncomfortable until around 2016/2017. 

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

Dada?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Word Count: 1,200.

Warnings: Fluff, mild language, implied smut. 

Waking up on your amazing bed you felt something rubbing the sensitive skin of your neck, mumbling something you turned around on Steve's arms and gazed at his beard.

“Baby?” You said softly and kissed his forehead. “Baby?” You tried again and brought your hands over his beard stroking it.

He opened his eyes and looked confused at first searching for the clock on your nightstand. “The troublemakers are up already?” He pouted and you chuckled at that, it was 7 AM of a Saturday and he wanted to sleep.

Since your first child were born he started to let the beard on, sometimes he shaved it off but the last time was when your babygirl of 1 year and 2 months were 4 months old. So she probably only knows Stevie with a beard on.

“No, but this is out of hand.” You said and caressed his facial hair. “I mean it's sexy but Rogers, I don't remember you without a beard.”

“What?” He laughed and cleaned his eyes to make sure he would be fully awake. “Isn’t like that, I'm sure you remember.”

“Baby, it is! I don't and it sort of giving me a burned sensation down there… you know…” He blushed and you kissed his cheeks smirking.

Steve hovered over you, so he was on top and started to leave a trail of kisses on your neck.

You blushed tremendously. “Baby, the little monsters will be up in a few minutes, Nat and Bruce will take them to have a day out.” You tried to reason, the last thing you wanted was to traumatize your children.

“We have a few minutes.” He mumbled and started to leave kisses on your chest. You brought his head up on your hands and smiled at him, together in almost 5 years and he still looked at you like it was the first date.

The kisses went on and on, and his hands caressed your skin sweetly.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Your oldest kid, Brandon came running, he was three years old and apparently the excitement of hanging out with his uncle and aunt woke him earlier than usual.

Steve grunted on your chest and moved to lay on his back making sure to cover his hard-on.

Bran jumped in the bed and fell on your arms. “Hey handsome.” You joyfully answered and kissed his head. “Why you woke up so early?”

Steve sat making sure to use the covers around his lap and placed one of the pillows above it. “Excited son?” He asked and kissed his head too.

“Yes! Aunt Nat always has the best snacks and uncle Bruce always has the best songs to sing in the car!” The kid answered animated.

“Well then let’s get ready uh?” You asked and Bran left the bed and ran with his little legs to the bathroom.

Looking over Steve who looked like a sad puppy you pouted and kissed his cheek. “You go fix this and then come downstairs. Don’t worry, we’ll have the house all for ourselves today.” You smirked and walked to your son reach.

Bran was already naked and you smiled seeing so, he was probably the first boy you met that loved water so much.

The little fish.

Grabbing his small form you sat him in the bathtub and handed him his Hulk toy.

It was really cute the amounts of Avenger’s merch that has out there.

Making sure he was entertained with the toy you opened the tap letting the bath start to fill with water.

You left to grab your younger child and smiled seeing the small girl sleeping so peacefully. “Hey baby.” You smiled and tried to wake her up, differently than Bran she didn’t like early mornings. “Come on, uncle Bru and aunt Nat are coming and you and Bran will have fun.” She stood with her eyes closed but quickly woke up when you started to leave kisses all over her face, her giggles erupted on the house and you heard Bran giggling too.

Grabbing Amelie on your arms you walked to the bathroom and saw Steve there washing Bran’s hair.

Steve smiled widely when he saw his baby girl. “Look who is here!” He said to Bran and he smiled seeing his younger sister.

When you got pregnant you and Steve made sure Brandon wouldn’t feel ignored or in second place.

You took her clothes off and sat her in the bath in front of Bran who handed her his toy.

You kissed Steve’s head and left to make breakfast, but before you reached the kitchen you decided to choose the kids clothes for the day to help Steve out.

                                 …

After the kid’s shower and breakfast Natasha and Bruce came in and took the kids to their “Special Awesome Day”, you remembered them their allergies and your phone number and all the things an worried mama bear would do.

Steve and you had the house all for yourselves and joined the whole time together.

After four rounds of love making, you two took a shower and Steve took the shave cream and razor. “Bye dear friend.” He dramatically said making you laugh.

You sat at the sink counter and looked at the process. He shaved everything, and damn, he was handsome with and without facial hair.

“Wow.” You gasped and he rolled his eyes. “No I’m serious, damn, it’s like traveling in time.” You joked winning a smile from him.

Steve cleaned the sink fully knowing you would kill him if he let the sink dirty with the amount of hair.

Both of you were spent, but Steve’s wanted to prove a point and somehow apologize for all the scratchy down there.

                                 …

A few hours passed and you were eating some pie while watching an old movie with Steve on the couch.

It was pretty rare to watch an adult film nowadays, with the kids everything was cartoons or infant movies with talking animals and magic.

Your phone left a message sound and you grabbed it to check.

It was Nat saying they would head home a few hours later, of course you got worried so you asked if something happened, she answered that the kids loved their time but Bran asked to go to Clint’s house and since Clint agreed they would head there.

You showed the message to Steve and allowed so. The message you received in reply was a picture of Bran laughing holding Bruce’s hand, then one of Nat holding Amelie on her chest, all of them smiling.

You leaned back on Steve’s chest and showed him the photos. “Nat would be a great mother uh?!” Steve said and you nodded feeling sad for your friend. But as she said, she prefers to be the cool aunt rather than the bossy mother who would tell the kids to eat vegetables.

Seeing the free hours left some sleep wouldn’t hurt.

Steve cuddled you and that time when you woke up you didn’t feel the burning sensation of a beard scratching your bare skin.                              

                                 …

Later on, the kids got home and Bran was squealing telling you his day and showing the flowers he picked to give you.

Bruce entered first and Nat stood outside taking Amelie out of the child safety seat, Bruce mentioned Steve’s baby face and Bran agreed that he looked different.

Natasha entered the house and smiled seeing the new look. “It’s like I entered in a time machine.”

“That is exactly what I said!”

Steve scoffed at the joke and walked to her reach going to grab his daughter.

“Babygirl.” He said coming nearer her but she started to cry.

Steve looked at you worried and you walked to her. “Baby, is dada!” You said but she just held Natasha’s neck in her small chubby arms shaking her head not believing in your prior words.

Bruce and you started to laugh and Steve looked throughly hurt. “Man, this is so funny.” Bruce said and Bran looked at the adults worried about why his sister was crying so much.

“Li, is dada.” Bran stated and apparently she believed her old brother since she looked at him at the floor and back at Steve.

You grabbed a couch pillow and covered his face letting only his eyes and nose out. “See?” Nat pointed to Steve’s face and Amelie stopped crying, only sniffing.

“Say something.” You told Steve. And he called her name.

She cleaned her blue teary eyes and looked at her aunt to see if it was true.

Nat nodded and Amelie looked at everyone in the house, you placed the pillow back at the couch and passed your arm on Steve’s waist trying to show her it was her father and mother.

“Dada?” She asked and Steve nodded, she extended her arms and he grabbed her letting a sigh of relief.

“Hey baby, it’s me.”

She touched his shaved cheeks and chin, then smiled and started to laugh loudly.

“I guess she liked the new look.” Bruce said and Steve smiled spinning her around.                          

                                 …

I thought the idea was cute and I had to write it down. Comments make me happy.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader

[fyrapartnersearch]

~ will you let me deceive you ~ (fandom cravings search)

greetings be careful who you trust, the devil was once an angel. ~ lowercase is purely for aesthetic purposes

~ feel free to call me deviation, dev, d, or lexi

~ i am a 22 year old female, meaning that i'd prefer to rp with people 18+ not only to be closer in age to me but also because my rps can venture into dark topics

~ central standard time

~ you can expect an average of four responses a week although i strive to daily respond, if possible.

~ my replies range from 400 - 4000 words, and i try to mirror my partner

~ third person, present tense although i will rp with people who write past tense (to each his own)

~ doubling is required for all fandom roleplays to keep everything fair. please do not contact me, asking if i can just play who you would like.

~ sucker for ooc chat although it is not required what I want in a partner (yes, we like to break the rules, but these aren't meant to be broken) it is not a shame to be deceived; but it is to stay in the deception 1| activity is fairly important to me because if i go two-three weeks without a response, i will likely lose interest which I don’t want to do! i would prefer if my partners could get me, at least, two responses a week.

2| because i am literate, i am looking for partners of the same! i would prefer, at least, two hearty paragraphs per response, although i am more than happy to receive more. would you like to basically create a book with me? i'm totally down!

3| please help me build our universe, and our story. i don’t want to do it all by myself. i want to make sure that we both enjoy it.

4| please don’t godmod my characters, and no mary sues or anything like that! nobody is perfect or without weakness. we love originality!

5| please be able to write in third person because first person makes it a bit weird for me, and way more personal than i'd like to go. i write in present tense myself although i am more than welcoming to those who write past tense.

6| i am ghost friendly, just please let me know if you decide to drop the rp, if you can, so i don’t find myself waiting for a response that will never come.

7| please let me know if you will be unable to respond for a week or longer, just so that I am aware and don’t think you have dropped the rp.

8| this isn’t a rule, but a preference. i love to get to know my rp partners, so ooc chatter is always welcome!

9| please have a good grasp on grammar and spelling. no text talk.

10| be willing to double if you decide to do canon x oc just so that it makes it fair to everyone.

11| please do NOT (see the caps) just send me a message, asking whether or not I’m still looking, or giving a measly sentence about yourself. i would prefer if you would tell me about your writing style, what you want to write with me, etc. give me something to go off of! let me see who you are!

12| i will rp smut, but it needs to be apart of the story and not overtaking it 

fandoms belief is the deception you play upon yourself now, let's move on to the fun part, and what i'm sure you guys are waiting on... the fandoms! because of all of the television i watch (is that a bad thing...?) i have fandoms all over the place that i'd love to rp! unless it is crossed out then i am still looking to do it, so feel free to contact me about it! i will have the fandoms divided up and under each, i will include characters i'm willing to play, and who i'd like to play against. again, just a reminder that doubling is mandatory although it doesn't have to stop there. i'm down to double/triple/quadruple, whatever you want. i also am down for au's and using the universe but using ours ocs. just shoot me ideas of what you want.  tv shows we often shed tears that deceive ourselves after deceiving others 1| arrow i'm currently in season five of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: oliver)

2| flash i'm currently in season three of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: barry)

3| vampire diaries i'm currently in season five of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except enzo, kai, vicki, april, kol) (characters i'm looking for: kol, damon, elijah, klaus)

4| glee i'm completely caught up with this show! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: noah (puck), Jesse, brody, jake, ryder)

5| game of thrones i'm currently in season six of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except gregor, eddard, sandor, oberyn, brienne, melisandre, jorah,) (characters i'm looking for: gendry, ramsey, joffrey, khal drogo, jaime)

6| pretty little liars i'm currently in season three of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: wren, alex, ezra)

7| outlander i'm currently in season two of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: jamie)

8| 13 reasons why i'm currently in season two of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except hannah baker, tony, sheri, skye) (characters i'm looking for: bryce, zach, tyler)

9| elite i'm currently caught up with this television show (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except valerio, fernando, christian, marina, omar) (characters i'm looking for: polo, ander, guzman)

10| shadowhunters  i'm currently caught up with this show and have read the books! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except lucian, jonathan) (characters i'm looking for: jace, magnus, sebastian) 

11| the fosters i'm currently in season two of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: brandon) movies it is more tolerable to be refused than deceived  1| mcu (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except strange, peter parker, peter quill, thanos, ant man)

(characters i'm looking for: tony stark, thor, loki, steve rodgers, clint barton, bruce banner) 2| after (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: hardin, jace)

3| twilight (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except emmett, james, sam) (characters i'm looking for: seth, embry, paul)

4| matched (not a movie, technically, but it is in my heart) (characters i'm willing to play: ky, xander) (characters i'm looking for: ky, xander)

5| divergent (only the first one) (characters i'm willing to play: al) (characters i'm looking for: four, eric, peter)

6| the host (characters i'm willing to play: jared, ian) (characters i'm looking for: jared, ian)

7| disney (special plot, shh, it's a secret. message me if you're interested) asian dramas it is amazing how complete the delusion that beauty is goodness 1| crash landing on you (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: junghyuk, seung-joon, kwang-beom)

2| boys over flowers (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: jun-pyo)

3| i need romance 1/2/3 (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: sung-hyun, seok-hyun, joo wan)

4| heirs/inheritors (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: kim tan, choi young-do)

5| good morning call (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: hisashi uehara, daichi shinozaki) anime time will inevitably uncover dishonesty and lies; history has no place for them 1| devil’s line (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: anzai)

2| vampire knight (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: zero, kaname)

3| amnesia (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: toma, shin, kent, ikki)

4| dragon ball z (characters i'm willing to play: goten, gohan, krillin, android 17, yamcha) (characters i'm looking for: trunks, vegeta)

5| kuzu no honkai (scum's wish) (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: mugi) cartoons  life is the art of being well deceived; and in order that the deception may succeed it must be habitual and uninterrupted 1| teen titans (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: robin)

2| young justice  (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: superboy)

3| adventure time (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except ice king, lsp) (characters i'm looking for: marshal lee)

4| avatar: the last airbender/legend of korra  (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except toph) (characters i'm looking for: zuko, bolin, mako, iroh (younger)) last words deception may give us what we want for the present, but it will always take it away, in the end thank you for reading through to the end of my thread, and i do hope that you found something you liked. just a reminder that all fandoms can be changed to use ocs or au's, i'm very open to those kinds of things! in addition, if you would like to contact me about a fandom, please send a message as opposed to posting on this thread (so i can keep it clean). i am only looking for a few partners, but i'd love to hear from as many of you as possible! thank you lovelies!

contact me 

feel free to email me ([email protected]) to talk about rping with me! 

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #email #messenger #marvel rp #avengers rp #tvd rp #smut rp #mcu rp #dc rp #submission

[hellofanimagination]

Masterlist as of 3/11/19

~Notes On My Writing Encourages Me To Write~

Headcannons

Drabbles

Taglist

Bold=Contains Smut

Italics=Just Angst

(^)=Male Reader

($)=Threesome

(!)=Multiple Current Relationships (With the reader)

(+)=Basement AU

(*)=Punk AU

(@)=Danger Days AU

(%)=High School/College AU (or implies that they are younger)

(-)=Vampire AU

(&)=Parent/Pregnancy AU or involves kids (such as  Bandit)

(#)=Self Harm TW

Fall Out Boy:

Patrick:

Eternal Summer (%)

I Am Beautiful With You

Bad Trip, I Couldn’t Get Off

I Got Troubled Thoughts

I Would Sing You To Sleep

Lullabye (&)

Moan For Me

Blue Bubbles

^Part 2

Kisses on The Necks Of “Best Friends” (%)

Cause It’s Just Trust

Allie, I Was So Good Back Then

Take This To Your Grave

Cinderella She Seems So Easy

Pete:

It’s Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine (^)

Call Me Maybe

Andy:

Moving Pictures (&)

My Chemical Romance:

Gerard:

Urie’s House, 11 Tonight (%)

Don’t Go

I Need You

Please

Doctor Way

First Time (+)

Interview

^Part 2

Nicotine Kisses (*)

Hold Me

Study Date (*) (%)

Love Will Kill You (*) (%)

Too Fast (+)

Don’t Save Me (@)

Beautiful

Kiss Me You Animal

I Hate The Ending Myself (@)

Thief (@)

The Boys And Girls In The Clique (+) (%)

^ Parts 2 and 3

Not So Secret (@)

My Friends Blur (+) (%)

^Part 2

Dance, Dance (@)

You Belong To Me I Believe

Marry Me

Playground Eyes (#)

Blow Me..A Kiss (+)

They’ll Say It’s Not Worth It (+) (%)

Reinvent Love

Right Down To The Blood (*)

In A World Of Bad Dreams (-)

^Part 2

My Perfect Stranger (&)

Mama

In A Bullet’s Embrace (#)

Sounds Of Love-Notes

We Are The Dream (&)

Do It Now And Do It Loud

Young And Loaded (@)

A Love That’s So Demanding

^Part 2

What Are We Waiting For?

My Best Friend’s Brother

I Don’t Do ‘Parents’ (%) (*)

Remember When You And I Would Make Things Up? (&)

Protect Me From The Troubles Of My Own Skin (^) (#)

Hot For Teacher (%)

I Don’t Believe In Luck ($)

The World’s a Broken Bone (%) (+)

The World Is Ugly (#)

Everybody Wants To Know (%) (*)

It Was Always You (+)

Birthday Touches

Burnt Waffles Made With Love (&)

Don’t Bless Me Father For I Have Sinned

Blink Back To Let Me Know (%) (Fem!Gee)

Fight Me (Knight AU)

^Part 2

Tattoos Of Heroes Without Capes (@)

This Is How We Met, Cause We’re Fucking Nerds

We Will Stumble Through Heaven

I Can Make Your Heart Slow

Being Blue Is Better Than Being Over It

^Part 2

We Can Be Heroes (+)

I’ve Always Held My Doubts So Close To My Heart

Well There’s No Way I’m Kissing That Guy (-)

I Never Said I’d Lie And Wait Forever

^ Part 2

This Is A Love Song In My Own Way

I’ve Got An Uncommon Love ($) (@) (!)

Can You Feel My Heart? (+)

In The Morning It Will All Be Better (+)

This Is The Best Day Ever

Bachelors For Bad Luck Girls (%)

I Want You In My Life

Only You (Asexual!Reader)

Dirty Little Secret (+)

I Promise You This

Lips Pressed Close To Mine

Sleeping Beauty

Without A Sound

If You Look In The Mirror And Don’t Like What You See (+)

Tell Me I’m A Bad Man ($)

Keep Running (@)

Cold On This Inside (^)

Such A Happy Mess

Throwing Stones At A Glass Moon (@) (&)

Follow Me Down (%)

We Spark and We Fade (Vampire Hunters AU)

Thin Line Between A Good And A Bad Idea

The Pros And Cons Of Breathing (#)

I Found The Cure To Growing Older (%)

Houston We’re Going Down (@)

Until You’ve Had Yourself A Hurricane

Spooky Scary And Drunk AF

Unashamed (^)

Comback Of The Year

Hesitant Alien

^Part 2

This Is How I Disappear

Don’t Wanna Fall In Love (*)

Shut Me Up

Fantastic Bastards 

Hand Of God 

Victims Of Love

Lightning In A Bottle

Frank:

Sweet Fun (@)

Hold A Lover Close (*) (%)

A Kiss And I Will Surrender

Say I Like You, And We Can Get Out

Promises That We’ll Make

I Don’t Believe In Luck ($)

Let’s Get These Teen Hearts Beating. Faster, Faster

Back To The Street Where We Began

I’ve Got An Uncommon Love ($) (@) (!)

Sometimes We Take Chances

Bruises On Your Thighs

Imaginary Wedding Gown (&)

Tell Me I’m A Bad Man ($)

Can’t Help Falling In Love

^Part 2

Up Against The Picket Fence

Mikey:

Stressed Out

Kiss And Tell

All My Feelings Exposed (^)

Let Me See Your Moves

You Can Have My Heart

Summer Time (^)

Adore

My Heart Is Yours (%)

Something My Soul Needs (^)

Ray:

They Say Quitters Never Win

No Pairing:

Takes One To Know One

Untitled (Submission)

Not Another Boy Band (Genderfluid!Gee)

Hesitantly Me (Reader is Gee’s sister)

Lost Boys (mcr are fucked up and homeless, reader helps them) (#)

Panic! At The Disco:

Ryan:

I’d Do It All Again. I Think You’re My Best Friend

Milkshake Smiles (%)

^Part 2

I Just See The Sky

Girl, I’m Just Impressed With Your Face (Artist!Ryan)

Where Can I Go When I Want You Around (Prince!Ryan)

Nearly Witches

Another Observation (Agender!Ryan)

It’s Nice To Think You Are Always Wanted

Shh…It’s A Secret

You Rattle My Bones

She Had The World ($) (!)

^Part 2 ($) (!)

Film The World Before It Happens (!)

Free Form Poem (RyanxReaderxJon) (Submission)

Supernatural:

Dean:

Bear Bottles and Gun Shots

Beach Trip

Promise?

You’re My Dream

Chocolate Kisses

Game Over

Nothing To Write Home About (%) (!)

Sam:

5 Seconds Of Sam (%)

Mad At Nothing (!)

Sleep, Love

Castiel:

Learning

Let’s Just Pretend

Other

Midday Naps (%) (Kellin Quinn Imagine)

Emo? Emo. (%) (Dan Howell Imagine)

Young Love As Sweet As Can Be (%) (Dan x Reader x Phil)

More Than You Bargained For (Dan x Reader x Phil)

Zero To Hero (Tyler Oakley Imagine)

Magic In The Midnight Sun (Brandon Flowers Imagine)

You Stole My Head (Dallon Weekes Imagine)

Hey, Baby I’m Not Your Superhuman (Except That I Am) (Spiderman Imagine)

Screaming Daydreams (Submission (Poem, no ship)

I’m Trying My Best (Submission, William Beckett x Reader)

#masterlist #mcr #mcr imagine #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance #fob #fall out boy #fob imagine #fall out boy imagine #p!atd #p!atd imagine #panic! at the disco imagine #panic! at the disco #bandom #imagine #im srry there isnt many new ones #im also srry it wont let me add a read more and idk why so ya srry