#my ex didn’t like. hurt me or anything. we just had a messy breakup and ended up blocking each other on everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lzizzz · 6 months

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What did you think when you left me this way

by Lingering_Bastard

Chapter 3: We Live On

Ok, getting broken up with? Sucks.

In between the sobbing, every inhale bringing in an icy sharp breath that burns my throat, and tears streaming down my face onto Kev’s jacket sleeves, staining them black with mascara as I painfully swipe at my eyes; I suddenly realize a strong contender to the “this sucks” hierarchy. I mean, as stupid as it sounds, that in this very moment I can be thinking of anything other than walking out of that party a single woman.

These shoes might have been perfect to wear all night for an indoor party, but now with the reckless idea of walking home executed, blisters have begun to form at the back of my heels, and they hurt like a bitch.

So, getting your heart broken sucks, but wearing the wrong shoes to the break up is just slightly more criminal.

“You’ve got to be kidding, oh fuck.” I swear out loud, noticing the burning of skin is actually becoming unbearable, and pause my walk. Through bleary eyes I look around the empty street, noticing how much I’ve managed to walk, fiercely trapped in miserable sentiments. My breath comes out in puffs of white, a dying street lamp pitying me.

‘Well screw you, your only job is to light up and you can’t even do that right’

It’s colder out in the open, though with a warmed-up body all it does is numb my face. I’m just a few blocks from my house, that distance is mocking me more than my smeared makeup. With that thought, I wipe with dirty sleaves again. Geez, these tears are unrelenting.

“God I’m an embarrassment.” I mumble, kicking at the lamppost helplessly. It only flickers meekly in response.

I’m almost content to keep standing here, no movement to ignite the pain of the blisters, no huffing in chilly air rushing to get home. My mind starts drifting to my now seemly comfortable bed, still messy with clothes I was debating on wearing this night. Wrapped dinner in the fridge I could heat up, my appetite randomly coming back to life. And I did promise myself a hot chocolate. Ugh, and I have to wash my face before sleep even if I really don’t want to… I wonder if Kevin is still at the party. It's late, maybe he got sick of it and went home? Or maybe he went back inside, with his newfound single life, and instantly start flirting with someone once I left? There were so many hot people to pick from. I can visualize it now, him smashing down a few drinks, charming his way into a group of strangers. Oh shit, there was that one girl who had the hots for him, Leo? Yeah, she looked properly high and dressed to impress. He could be balls deep in her right now, I saw the top bedroom was empty, is he even the type to fuck after a breakup heck WE didn’t even go further than over the clothes stuff-

And I'm overthinking again.

As if the universe was sick of my pathetic head ramblings, a car passes through the street ahead of me, reminding me I am still crying in the middle of a random sidewalk at midnight and not at home, a better place to spiral into insecurity. Also, that car was a little off the middle lane, sir you are lucky I’m not a cop because that’s some drunk driving. I grit my teeth, pain be damned, do a once over around me finding I’m still pleasantly alone on this walk, and take off one reluctant step at a time towards my house.

Against better judgment, and still angry at the thought that my Ex is now ~thoroughly~ enjoying the party that is surely still raging on, I decide on a shortcut through the park. It’s not much of a park as it is a few bushes and a playground, used mainly by smoking school kids ditching class.

Thank a clear sky and a bright moon, I don’t see anyone waiting to stab me in the night for, what, a piece of gum in my front pocket and a beat-up phone? What a score. I still walk as briskly as possible.

Unfortunately, my worst enemy doesn’t come in the form of a stranger in the bushes, my wild imagination conjuring up images of horned demons coming for my skin rather than a bored serial killer.

No, my enemy stays at it as always been, mother nature herself.

It’s a gravel path, how hard can it be to walk a gravel path? I’ve passed the slides and swing set and am well on my way to the freedom of the next street when I stop paying attention to the ground, looking around the familiar houses, ready for the home stretch. Too focused on the routine picket fences rotting away in this forgotten suburbia: I trip over a goddamn stick.

My feet are already clumsy from the burning pain of blisters and strained from the walk, they don’t even try to catch my balance as I lurch forward, vision going black for a moment as my forehead hits those stupid posts they put in front of parks to stop cars swerving in and such. Well, stupid cars didn’t hit them, I did. And the forehead collision is followed up with my knees smacking into the concrete sidewalk hard.

I gasp, breathless and dizzy, falling to my shoulder, then rolling onto my back with the final momentum from my trip.

I don’t immediately acknowledge the pain, the hot blood now trickling down my forehead, or look down to my scraped knees. A night in which too much has happened in such a short amount of time, my attention drifts towards the stars. The stars that have seen this whole night: A whole meltdown and a half lasting from my bedroom, through a car trip, on a balcony next to a pool. All the events that led up to this entire predicament. A night that in storybooks would have been a heart-to-heart conversation of apologies and teary-eyed kisses and “I’ll never hurt you again” promises.

Not whatever this is.

Slowly, as if figuring out the right key to play, my brain halts all function. All thoughts buzz out and narrow into one solid, sorrowful feeling. A hurt that seemed so old, too out of place for my own head, passed on from a harrowed soul and thrust into me just so I could feel it too. Now, bubbling up from deep in my chest, I burst. Still, on the cold ground, the fiery hurt spreads through my body. A trembling mess, teeth biting into my covered arms trying to muffle sounds as excruciating wails and screams leave me without permission. My legs flail and kick, the air, the ground, the fucking feeling that was so unexplainable and agonizing.

This is what he did to me.

The short tantrum overstays its welcome, but I have the sense to know I’m a couple of blocks from my house from where I’m bleeding on this park pavement. As soon as I get up and dust whatever I can off, I almost run home. The pain of moving my sore limbs and bleeding soles is better than crying the night out at the park entrance, alerting concerned neighbors, and maybe earning a call to my parents.

I’m limping down my driveway, rather pissed at the automatic light sensor ratting me out. I pause for a beat, looking for movement in the windows. A sigh of relief escapes me, seems the surprise spotlight didn’t get me caught. Not that I’m sneaking back in, of course, I just look like a banshee leaving a funeral.

Rounding the house into the backyard, I sit on the decking and practically rip off the offending shoes, crying in relief as I free my feet. They aren’t bad shoes, they really aren’t. I’ll just have to tape up my heels next time. Sure. I still throw them onto the shoe pile the door without a care.

One hand dabs the blood on my forehead with the now ruined sleeves of this jacket, another quietly slides open the back door. Thank fuck mum left it open for me. I patter across the house, making it successfully to my bedroom without waking anyone. I really can’t deal with a talk right now; I wouldn’t know what to tell them. I’d probably just start crying again until someone drove up to Eva’s house and dragged her son across the front lawn. I almost smile at the thought of it. It’s just a bit too soon.

But it’s not too soon to change out of my party clothes into a comfortable hoodie to drown in. I patch up my knees before I tug on some sweatpants. Then in the bathroom, I wash off the makeup and patch up the rest. It’s gonna be bad, bruised. A lot of fun explaining to do but at least saying I was clumsy isn’t far from the truth.

Then, no doubt between despair and also anger, I grab Kev’s discarded, make-up-stained, and blood-soaked jacket. I really don’t want to wake anyone up, but this has to be done, it’s all my brain can think about. Over months of self-doubt and heartache over a stupid boy, I at least deserve to give myself the closure he didn’t give me. I creep outside again. Extremely carefully. Like- giving a cat burglar a run for their money, carefully. Stepping over the creaks and placing my feet down extra lightly. I can now enjoy the crisp night air, all snuggled up. A hoodie that smells like me, one that Kev had never even seen.

Without hesitation, I throw this stupid relic, the last remnants of our bond, into the fit pit. I don’t look away even when the smoke makes my eyes water.

I keep the fire burning until dawn, sneaking in once to grab my dinner. There is an unexplainable peace I felt at devouring the heated up leftovers, and of course, a nice big cup of hot chocolate to remedy my scrapes and bruises.

Mum finds me in the dewy morning, shivering and dull-eyed, still tending to the ashes of the flames I lit. Not a scrap of Kevin remained.

- Two Months Later-

A full house, a busy basement. A room full of smoke and sin, now a rather normal setting for me.

My eyes are dry and glassy, I giggle at the feeling as I place the bong back on the painted coffee table. I’d already spent way too long staring at the detailed cartoonish characters but whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I’d find myself drifting back to it, even when there was plenty of eye candy around the room to check out.

“Nina, thank you for being a clingy bitch.” I sigh as I sink into the plush if not kind of gross couch, smiling down at her grinning reaction.

“Nooo, thank you for being my social anxiety rock.” Nina nuzzles against my legs from her place cross-legged on the floor. She’s almost too cute in this setting, the blond curls tied up in a bun slowly falling apart, and a loud tie die tee that only she could pull off, I’m almost tempted to tell her she looked more at home here than half the people in this basement.

“I’d say get a room.” The familiar stranger next to me, a girl I think from the year above me, jokes, “But what’s a good friendship without an abundance of homoerotic subtext?”

“Mm, true. I’ll keep my intentions questionable Laura.” Nina winks, and reaches for a lighter.

Sure, I said this time I’d be sober, but that basically went straight-out the window the moment I entered Eddie’s overly familiar basement. Well, Eddie's now out of school so I suppose I’d have the right to call it his sister’s hang out now?

They both have the luxury of frequently absent parents and use that freedom, or rather misuse, for it to basically be an open house for all their friends’ mischievous endeavours. Drugs and parties mainly. It’s not always this full on, all the times I have been over it’s actually been pretty quiet. Casual movie nights eating edibles or being introduced to DnD. Any grander party was spread out to more outgoing groups.

So, it was defiantly strange to see the whole house this full.

Some of Eddie’s older friends offered as soon as I arrived, but band-tee and ripped jean wearing Laura swooped in like a mother hen and didn’t let us touch anything else but her own personal stash.

“Trust most of these sloths haven’t washed their gear since they bought it, don’t want mold in your lungs do ya?” She lectured, “And the blunts might be laced, they are collage sleezebags babe. Wouldn’t put it past them.” It felt nice to be looked after.

She said she swore she knew me from a previous night out but I swore I didn’t remember her. We’ve concluded I was just a bit to blacked on Xan’s and tequila, which seems fair. I’ve sort of been putting anything offered into my body for the past two months. It’s even felt pretty good, I can’t lie. And no one has even pretended to be worried. Any and all breakup sadness is pretty much erased in drugs, which I know know know is stupid and I have to stop before it’s, like, stealing from mum’s wallet bad. But just for today, tonight, I let myself relax against that worrisome tide of thoughts and smoke.

The next hit Nina takes is way too strong and she ends up blank faced and staring at the canopy covered ceiling, I let her head rest between my knees and lightly play with her escaping hair. Laura gets knocked closer to me and another guest squeezes themselves onto the couch.

“We are at capacity dude!” She groans over her shoulder, then smiles back to me. “This scene is fun and all but by god do I miss like, bike rides am I right?”

“I don’t even remember the last time I rode a bike.” That’s a lie, I do. It involved a certain dark-haired archer and a craving for strawberry milk. I still pass that convenience store every other day.

“I know right?” Laura gawks, eyes rolling playfully, “Free entertainment we never use. Oh, you owe me for the weed by the way.”

“Figures, I’ll pay for Nina too.” I pull out the bills I prepared beforehand from my pocket. Of course, I knew this was going to happen. Nina always ends up owing someone money. And last time she snorted coke that wasn’t hers was the last time I’d arrived at a party without what I dub ‘bail money’. “She’s broke as ever. I think her last dollar went to a parking ticket.”

“Fuck those, government cash grabs.” She accepts my cash, pulling out a twenty from the stack and handing it back without a single word. Huh, how generous.

“So,” She leans in mischievously, “Guys or girls?” Yeah, no playing around with this one, Laura has turned out to be overly comfortable with strangers.

“Uh-” I’m taken aback by her abrupt quizzing. This usually wouldn’t be the type of question to stir me at parties, but for the longest time I’d become accustomed by answering ‘taken’. The fact that I now can't use it as an option hit me, and I'm left speechless for a second..

“Shhe-” Slurred Nina, suddenly stirring to life after talk of money had passed over, “Is attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses only.”

“Doesn’t that sum it up.” I snort, thankful for the intrusion.

“Oh, stupid crush or bad break up? No don’t even answer, it’s a terrible topic to talk about when high.” Laura shakes her head, “Once on LSD I spent like an hour crying over my Ex to this random at a club. She broke up with me for, wait for it, my cousin.”

“Cunt!” I gape in playful offense, hand to my sternum as Nina and me give our “awws” in sympathy.

“I know right?” She rolls her eyes, absentmindedly rubbing her neck, “Doesn’t matter, they moved away now. Separately I might add. So, I just…don’t even have to see them anymore.”

“Did you get over it?” Nina asks without even thinking about how rude it might sound, but Laura just laughs and moves to stand up.

“Yeah actually. It’s whatever now but shit, could’ve saved me the months of dating.” Ah, she gets it. “I’m gonna pee, please save my spot?”

“Will do.” Nina agrees. They switch places in different tones, Laura having practiced balance and grace, while my stoned friend lazily crawls up to park her butt on the now vacant space on the couch, “Safe~ In exchange, please get me snacks from the kitchen, I am hungry!”

“One order of munchies on the way babe.” Our senior stalks off with a wink and a wave, then disappears up the stairs.

As she does, a familiar set of legs descend and I choke.

Fuck, now how could I forget, this isn’t just some random party. In-between the unplanned smoking and getting my heart fluttering around Laura, it slipped my mind that I was never going to come here. Not when I heard he was invited.

I’d been avoiding him at every single opportunity I could. I think he was too. Wait, no, there isn’t a “think” in that, everything Kevin does is intentional.

That’s why I’m pleased as fuck when I see the brief surprise in his eyes as he descends into the suffocating tendrils of smoke.

- Kevin –

She didn’t come to school for a week.

I was way past the phase of “beginning to worry”, because the truth was my anxiety begun the same night we parted. She should have gotten home fine in theory. Observant, strong, and a good runner, especially in a bind. No doubt she didn’t need a chaperone for the walk, yet it didn’t put my mind at ease. I wouldn’t be able to text and check if she got home safe. I wouldn’t know anything until I saw her at school again.

Every step back to my house that night was a battle, as thoughts of her ending up dead on the news, though as impossible as the odds were, invaded my rational thought. That was in between the foreign feeling of tears streaming down my face. I hoped like a computer virus this unpacking of emotions would be wiped clean after sobbing until I was an unsightly mess in the driveway, but any numbness I felt afterward was temporary.

My room felt a little emptier than before, I’d spent the weeks leading up to the break up slowly getting rid of her belongings. Little things at first, forgotten hair ties and stationery. Then books she’d gifted with the mischievous smile of harboring an inside joke, one I’d figure out if I read the damn thing. Of course I did, I read all of them. Then, with the weight of losing all those annotated pages with her scribblings, doodles, and cute messages, I promptly burned all of them.

It would have been difficult to lose her all at once, though not to delude myself, losing her at all is still painful. But now, my room barren of her traces, it weighed on me that I finally accomplished it. Cut off the last loose ends. Connection to humanity, or, something. Whatever you would call it. I wonder would I even be willing to shoot her, if I went through with it. Would she guess it, see it coming? Or is there still enough blind faith to interrupt her better judgment as I lead the sheep to their slaughter.

Oh, that’s, no, the fuck? What the fuck am I even thinking, after that messy night it’s just time to sleep and forget about the evening.

I didn’t go to sleep instantly, making a point to take a shower as if I could wash off this whole situation- I mean at least I could wash off the beer, sweat and tears. Then crawling naked under the sheets, tossing and turning under the suddenly uncomfortable sheets, failing at quelling the thoughts of her not making it home safe, a guilty portion of my brain remembers one item of hers I didn’t get rid of. One I tell myself I’m too tired to throw out, I’ll do tomorrow, I defiantly won’t forget. A stupid T-shirt tucked right in the back of my purposefully unfilled wardrobe.

I defiantly don’t fall asleep to escape that thought.

When she didn’t show up on Monday, the war of conflicting emotions begun their battle. Of course, there was immense relief from not having to face her. Who would want to see their ex so quickly after a breakup? The best medicine is forgetting, avoiding. She was probably feeling the same, maybe even sick from the cold walk home. Maybe she was avoiding the History pop quiz. Normal reasons.

But then the other side of my mind begged to differ. The panic of not being able to text and ask if she became a dead body on the weekend. If she was having a depressive spiral. Would it be good or bad if she wanted to transfer schools?

At least Tuesday brought the answer that she was sick, as I’d overheard her friends talking. But that didn’t tell me how sick. When she was coming back or…. if she was coming back.

Damn, I hated not knowing things. It certainly was a new feeling; one I really could’ve gone without.

The entire week was dragging on as she didn’t appear, day after day. Uneventful class after boring lunchtime periods. I really should have been reveling in this freedom. Time to work on the plan, time in my own head with my own thoughts. It had to be just the shock of pace changing. I could not stay like this forever.

Wait stay like what, again? Heartbroken- wait no. That’s not fucking it. I did my time, I cried, I got over it.

What’s the problem of moving on? Sure, it was a feeling I’d never experienced before. But once the initial shock and fear of all those new sensations wore out, my so-called love for her just melts into a period where I was doing unnecessary and distractive activities. I just wanted to see what the fuss was about, yeah.

Why is it so impossible to convince myself this time around? Years of confidence, following the role of a narcissistic psychopath. I’d never stumbled, not like this.

Next Monday, with immense relief of a tidal wave, she entered the classroom. Instantly shattered by noticing her physical state.

Sure, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when she, completely ignoring me, waltzed over to her friends, reuniting with hugs and smiles. She quickly explained away the old bruising, week-old bruising I noted, on her face. A scabbing gash on her forehead that I bet could have concussed her, hidden under some sneaky hair placement and light makeup. Though that made my heart sink, I wondered, have they noticed her paling skin and darkened eye bags? Do they see how disconnected from the world her mind seemed? Because they better. I wasn’t here for her anymore, and pushed down the guilt her state caused me.

How did she get the injuries? I wanted to know what she was doing all week. It was really chewing at me. And that was unproductive. As she took her seat, I bit my tongue and forced my head down. If I was going to get better from whatever my brain wasn’t letting go of, I’d have to do what I did best. Overwork and disconnect from reality. I’d have to forget what was right in front of me. A walking, talking reminder of the past. Still alive, but dead in all sense but physical.

I’d spend the next few weeks with her ghost surrounding me. Tuning out her voice, memorizing her walking patterns to avoid clashing. Making sure we were never at the same gatherings or parties, which I’m sure she was too.

And for weeks, I swear I could still see her out of the corner of my eye as I picked up the bow, practicing for what was to come. She’d still be candidly relaxing in the grass, lying down, feet up, chin resting in her palm. She was always watching away, hyper-focused, and judging my every move.

“Hope it was worth it.” Her mouth moved but I didn’t hear the words so much as visualize them, every syllable punctuated, angry and disappointed. I had no answer for her, and instead drew back the bowstring, hitting the bullseye.

- MC -

It was earlier at school that day, he’d been chatting up the rabble and that included Eddie’s sister, being invited over for the house party.

So now I knew he was going, and that meant that event was off-limits to me. Later in class that day I’d been asked, within his earshot, if I was going to the event, I naturally declined, making some sort of excuse. The importance was that’s how we usually coordinated our territory. One of us declined or accepted an invite out loud so the other knew. But after two months, I was getting really sick of it. Why not just act like normal exes that can be around each other? I really didn’t have a problem going to a massive party with him in it. We wouldn’t even see each other a lot, he’s already proved to me he can disappear in a crowd.

He hears me decline, so if he shows up tonight, he’ll be in for a bit of a shock. I wonder if he’ll get the message that I don’t care, see it as a war declaration, or maybe not even notice. Probably the latter, actually. I think I forget that, he really doesn’t give a second thought about me these days. So yeah, I’m tired of playing this silly game of who owns which party and hangout.

Though, I’d be lying if I didn’t consider backing out of this plan until Nina triple texted me in a hurry, telling me she was too nervous to go by herself and get high alone, in a room full of strangers. Who could say no when she added three crying face emojis right after?

- Kevin -

It’s a miracle I didn’t miss a step and fall down the stairs, what the hell is she doing here?

My stoic mask drops just a hint as we make eye contact, she probably wasn’t planning on locking eyes either, as she quickly drops my gaze and I follow suit. Though not after noticing that she was indeed getting high which she knows I didn’t like her doing previously, but live your life it’s whatever. Apart from pissing me off by apparently deciding the rules didn’t apply anymore to not show up to the same event, why is she cuddling up so tightly with Nina? I mean they are practically lovebirds snuggling on the couch, the blonde’s leg casually linked around her ankle-

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Why are you thinking about it? Shit, I came down here to talk with, who again?

I try to make the break in my stride look natural, blood pumping so vigorously I could hear my heartbeat. And to my better judgment, I don't side-eye her as I walk past the couch. This is just a new scenario, albeit unwelcome. A challenge even. We don’t actually have to talk. Just exist in each other’s presence, pretend that this isn’t becoming as daunting as a knife fight.

Now that she saw me here, I’ll have to show some face before I leave, otherwise I'll just look chicken running away. That is a bother, since I’m pretty sure the smoke in here is potent enough to get high on fumes.

- MC -

I don’t want to laugh, I should be at peace with seeing him, and maybe slightly irritated. But the look on his face was priceless and I struggle to hide a giggle into Nina’s shoulder. It’s like I finally, even if for a moment, was a step above him. Then of course the panic I’ve been dreading floods through, sinking me lower into the hold of Nina’s arms; This may have actually been a mistake.

It’s not as if I’m seeing him again for the first time, heck, I even saw him earlier in the day. But that was in the only setting I’d become used to seeing him. Hidden away in the back of a classroom, or halfway across the school campus. An unavoidable fortress of the education system, confining us together without consent.

Ok, I might have considered moving schools’ the week of the breakup. Explaining myself to my mum that morning, freezing and injured in front of a dying flame, was mildly humiliating for me, if not worrying for her. Of course, parents aren’t oblivious, they were teenagers once too; she was worried more about bullying or assault. I could have played into that, quickly changed to a high school on the other side of town. The commute may have been longer, and I would have to begin the whole cycle of making new friends again. But moving just because I was a little heartbroken seemed silly, especially since Kev still lived nearby, and we shared a few acquaintances. NO- the mess of moving school wouldn’t help anything; I’d just be dragging myself deeper into denial.

I just spent a week being depressed enough to qualify as a 18th-century poet, went on a heartbreak diet of tea and, frankly not much else, then cleaned up my act as soon as I came back to school. Apart from the more-then-occasional drug use. I was fine. I am fine.

But back to the intruder of the room, suddenly seeing Kev outside of school for the first time since, well, the night, I couldn’t say I hated it. Couldn’t say it didn’t make me feel like a caged rat either.

Nina had defiantly noticed my discomfort, my shoulders stiffened, and my back angled uncomfortably against the couch when I subconsciously slid further into it. She had been lazily smooshed against my body, almost cat-like, singing along to whatever song was playing. I hadn’t recognized most songs that came from the stereo, carelessly shoved into the corner of the basement. The lyrics slowly fade out from her as she turns at my unease.

“Hey, you alright? You’ve gone a bit stiff.” Her voice was sleepy, but still genuinely concerned.

I realize I have the opportunity to play it off as a bad trip, but I can’t; I really want to get higher. I decide to do just that and fix my position. I give her a sigh, sitting up, and reach towards my prize on the coffee table. The bowl was still packed with enough to take a few good hits without grinding up more, I don’t think Laura would appreciate me misusing her good will.

Nina is still confused as I silently pull in the smoke, throat burning and eyes watering. But I’m not going to leave her hanging. After draining whatever mystery drink I had in my cup, almost forgotten on the table, I place everything back and lean into the safety of my friend. My mouth close to her ear.

“Don’t look, but Kev just strolled in.” I whisper it, trying to move my mouth as little as possible. I mean, the basement was big and loud, but I’d rather lose a limb than let him know I was gossiping. Nina scrunches up her face, scoffing without a care of confidentiality. Ok, don’t make it obvious babe.

“No really? Ugh. Do you want to leave? We can leave if he’s making things uncomfortable.” She’s genuine about that, but I just shake my head.

“Why would he make things uncomfortable?” Could have made a better response than that, I’m still battling not to look over and check what he’s doing.

“Do you think I’m oblivious?” She rolls her eyes at me, “You were like, so depressed when you broke up with that psycho. Your face was all bashed in-“

“I fell.” I correct, as I have multiple times to many people after my injuries were questioned. Not that our relationship was a big secret, but it almost surprised me how many of my friends suspected he was becoming physically abusive and that’s why we broke up. Yeah, the emotional manipulation towards the end, that was a deep hurt for sure. But he was never even that physical when it came to candid touching.

“Yeah, well, you went a bit weird on us when you broke up. Actually, it was already sort of weird when you were dating him.” Her voice drifts off at the end a bit, touching a sore subject.

“First time I’m hearing that.” I groan, unamused.

“Yeah well, no one wanted to say anything. He’s just kind of, I don’t know. Offputting. C’mon, you’d know best! He just gives off these vibes, like he knows a secret we don't. And he's got this weird narcissistic complex. I'm not that into psychology, but I can feel when something's up.” Nina babbles on.

She wouldn’t be wrong with that one. Learning who Kevin is, habits, traits and thoughts, was like finding out an uncanny secret. Parts that shouldn’t work, a design that seemed like a flawed structure. Then, you would dig deeper and find out it was you who didn’t understand. There was a certain magic around Kev that could either pull you in so close it was suffocating, or, well push you away. In either fear or uncertainty.

Well, I shouldn’t give him much praise for that, since I have to remember the manipulation. How he sees people as malleable, either useful or not. Not wholly like a psychopath, at least what I believed, it was more how he preferred to function. Both a rebellious act to the status quo, to the privileged upbringing he resented, and also practical to his nature. Which happens to also be his downfall.

“Let’s not talk about this Nina, I was just letting you know.” I sigh in annoyance.

I don’t want to talk about him, and I haven’t. This is beyond personal, it was forbidden. When that part of my life ended, it was burned away. Literally. I know my friends want me to open up, you can’t just break up with someone and not have a good bitch session about it. But I refused to indulge them with my rants. I couldn’t say he was some asshole I dated. He was an enigma I fell in love with, and I didn’t understand him enough. Of course, he dropped me. I was boring him, right?

Ugh, no not that thought spiral. No speculating on why.

I just told everyone the relationship was over. Just like that. Putting out a flame. No dramas or cheating or infighting. Defiantly no abuse. There was just nothing left. Not enough to keep us together and too much to pull us apart.

Don’t make it any more complicated than that.

“I’m being annoying, aren’t I? I’m soorrryy.” She rubs her cheek against mine, ok defiantly cat-like, and I giggle out an apology. Just then Laura returns.

“Hey, sorry that took a while.” Instead of moving to sit down she puts a hand on her hip and points her thumb back to the stairs. “Ed is being a real brat about letting me take food down here so we might have to move this to the living room. No smoking upstairs though.”

“Checks out.” I sigh. Nina is reluctant to stand but I pull her up anyways, “C’mon. Pizza time.”

“Mmm, and maybe some fresh air too I am suffocating”

Yeah, this room may be suffocating, but for many other reasons.

#kevin khatchadourian #we need to talk about kevin

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uncloseted · 2 years

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So my ex messaged me Saturday Morning to make peace with me. I said yes and met him at his house and we drove to a parking lot. We talked about everything that happened between us and afterwards what happened to us. I had my dog with me in the back. Fast forward he said “I miss you” and he tried to make me say it back but I felt like it was a trap so I waited then he crawled into the back of my car to pet my dog and leaned on my shoulder i was in the passenger seat then we accidentally kissed. I initiated and it was a full on kiss like no pull away or anything. I stupidly said I miss you right after. Fast Forward I took him home and he said gn to me and that was it. I woke up the next day to find he Blocked me on everything. My insta, my # everything. I was so hurt for a while and told my sister about it she said I deserved better. Now yesterday I open my laptop and see he messaged me On there! it said Hi it was around the same time we met on Saturday. But I didn’t see it cos it was on my laptop I never go on there and check my messages. So I responded with a “Hi…” and he read it and I tried to stand my ground and tell him how angry i was but the message didn’t go thru (i was in school when i saw this in class) so I assumed he blocked me there too.. I was so angry I went home and stomped and cried to look again and it was delivered but he hasn’t seen it. Idk what to do now.. I’m so lost sorry this is long but I’m absolutely horrified and need online opinions and realistic solutions..

I don't know if this is really a situation that has a solution. Breakups are messy. There are lots of feelings involved, and those feelings don't just disappear when a breakup happens. It sounds like you both said what you wanted to when it came to the breakup, and that's a good start. But to me, it sounds like the best thing to do might be to give this situation space. It seems like your ex needs space since he blocked you on social media, and I think it's a good idea to respect that, at least for the time being. I know it sucks to have to do that, especially after such an emotionally charged meeting, but I think it will allow you both the room you need to process.

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t4t-rabbite · 1 month

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Ranting about my past relationship, I just wanted somewhere to post this so it felt final. TLDR (for those who care ig?? It’s just relationship stuff): my partner and I broke up and after going back and forth I just ended things permanently because the relationship sucked

I finally ended things permanently with my ex. I can’t keep going back to him, and the way he made me feel. I have to remember all the ways he hurt me, how he didn’t take me into consideration at all in our relationship. I have to remember all the times he made me feel like I wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t attractive enough, wasn’t a good enough dom, wasn’t spending as much time with him as I should have, wasn’t immediately forgiving him when he started arguments when I was drunk or high. He constantly told me fantasies about him fucking his shif*i*g “partners”. Oh my god why did I enter a relationship with someone into that. He made me feel like shit, explicitly told me multiple times that he wasn’t attracted to me, and never once got me off. He never tried to. I fucked him over and over and over, in the course of our relationship I fucked him to orgasm almost every single day. He never once wanted to try and get me off, even when I expressed that that was something I wanted. He made me feel selfish for even asking that. He refused to respect that I didn’t want to sleep (physically sleep) with him every night, and did not respect my space or my boundaries on anything. We got into fights constantly, something that I had to tell him was an upsetting pattern in our relationship and something I didn’t like that happened. It took multiple fights about our fights for him to accept that it was weird. He ruined his relationships with all of our friends, who all hate him now. I tried over and over again to defend him and even told him that if he just apologized for acting like a dick to them it could be solved. But he still hasn’t apologized. We only started kissing after the breakup. Which. Messy, I know. But he never wanted that in the relationship and I love love love making out. Even separate from the ways he hurt me, we just don’t fit. I want to constantly experiment sexually and romantically with my partner, and have them support me in building a healthy relationship. Maybe it’s just because I’m high right now but I feel very firm in saying that he will never encourage me to be happy. My confidence was shattered in the relationship, and whether that was his fault or mine or a combination (probably a combination) I don’t want to be in a relationship like that. I keep trying to tell myself that everything I got in the relationship, I can get in another and more. I will miss him so so much but I cannot keep going on. He will not be the last partner I ever have, and he will not define whether or not I am happy. Also he broke our lease (we lived with our friends) so now we have to find another roommate asap

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qs-fritzy · 8 months

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This isn’t gonna be a super happy post. It deals with a messy breakup and the fallout therein as well some difficult potentially triggering scenarios. So I’m putting the rest of this post under a break cuz I just really need to talk about it.

I’ve been a Little for as long as I can remember. And maybe as part of a system, that doesn’t mean a whole lot. But that’s who I am. I’m an age-regressor. I cope with the trauma and stress the system has been through by retreating to a time and place of smallness. Where things wrap up happily at the end of the cartoon episode and big emotions can be soothed by sucking on a pacifier.

And as much as I’ve always wanted a Caregiver, I always had a lot of trouble accepting that from anyone. I can’t let go enough to let someone else actually be in control. Which makes sense based on everything we’ve been through. But that doesn’t make it easier to want something and feel unable to have it.

Until my ex, that is. They kept at it. Made me feel safe in expressing myself around them. To the point where I was practically about to overtake the Host position. We started HRT because I was uncomfortable in the body.

But there were… difficulties. As much as I loved them and they were my Papa… I don’t know. I feel weird even saying it? I’m asexual. Sometimes I want to engage with myself but beyond that, all I ever want is cuddles and little kisses. But they wanted more than that. They always did. Not just with me but with my System as a whole. Which was a huge problem. I’m not gonna go into that more here… but I don’t think I can be naked around anyone else for a long long time…

When things with Fen (my system’s current host) broke down and they left us, they were just… gone. They didn’t talk to me or anything. They were just gone. Yeah. A CG just ghosting their Little. And that put me in a tailspin. I didn’t front for ages because of it. I couldn��t. It hurt. It hurt to be out of the inner world.

One of our system’s persecutors did a really dumb and terrible thing and sent this ex an anonymous message through their Tumblr. Which, of course they knew came from her. (Jezebel’s not allowed on Tumblr for a while because of that…) And that caused a lot more drama.

The part that’s got me so messed up now is that right before they reblocked us and ghosted again was that they said “goodbye Fritzy.” My name. Called me out. Called me to the front. And then was gone. I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t ask what was happening. I was just suddenly yanked out of my room to the front. I was wearing Fen’s swimsuit. I was in a strange place because we moved across the country and this place isn’t mine yet. I hadn’t been front since the breakup. And they KNEW that I’d get called to front if they used my name. When we get close to someone, names have Power in our system. Sebby and Fen have a partner who can call them out by using their names. Scarlett used to be able to do it to Cache as well. And Papa could do it to me. And they did. And then just left me there. Alone. Exposed. Scared. Confused. Hurt.

And I started crying.

I feel awkward about it still. Cuz Fen and Sebby’s partner was there and she tried to comfort me but I don’t think I responded the way I should’ve.

Now I keep floating close to front and when I get too close I feel like I’m gonna throw up.

I don’t wanna be here anymore. I just wanna go back to being cute and small. But I can’t. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to again.

#actually did #actually dissociative #did #did system #dissociative identity disorder #agere little #messy breakup #strugglebus

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fandom-imagines · 3 years

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Your Age

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Jealous!Professor!Lupin X Legal!Student!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Jealousy, teacher x student relationship, implied smutty ending. Oh and implied toxic parenting.

Summary: After a rough breakup, Y/N finally starts talking to men again. But this doesn’t sit right with her ex, Professor Lupin.

It was hard for the new DADA Professor to watch the girl he longed for be flirted with by somebody else, Draco Malfoy to be specific.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest as he watched Y/N smile at the platinum-haired boy, her hand resting on his upper arm. She was blissfully unaware of the burning gaze that was fixated on her and the Slytherin.

“You have no right, Remus,” he mumbled to himself, extremely grateful that there was nobody within earshot to hear him talking to himself. “You broke it off with her. You’re too old.”

“Y/N, can you stay behind a moment, please?” Despite his lips being pulled up into a soft smile, his eyes held a different emotion.

“Sure, Professor!”

Once everyone had piled out of the room, Y/N’s friends saying they’ll see her in Potions, Remus finally broke the news.

“This can’t go on,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s so many reasons why it can’t.” The pain in her eyes was something he would never be able to erase from his mind, no matter how much he wanted to get rid of it.

“Got ya,” she smiled, holding back tears. “Is that all, Professor?”

Hearing her use that title whilst they were alone struck a new type of pain in his heart and all he could do was nod.

“That’s all, Y/N.”

That was four months ago, and the Professor had never felt worse about anything. But he knew it was for her own good; he’s too old for her, at least in his mind.

Y/N had never known the reason behind his sudden distaste towards their relationship, instead being left to assume that he had met someone else; met someone his own age.

The first month had been the worst. Constant overthinking, skipping classes and the feeling over never being wanted again.

The second month things got better, not much but a bit. Her parents were still on at her, as they had always been, about finding a powerful wizard boyfriend. It didn’t matter either way. It isn’t exactly like she could have told them who she was seeing. It just stung more with her mother telling her if she doesn’t find someone now, she never will.

The third month was when things started looking up. She was feeling better, less insecure and was finally spending time with other men, most notable, Draco Malfoy. The sleepless nights were over, and she was beginning to feel better.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lupin rushed as he entered the classroom, hair messy and dark bags under his eyes.

Y/N’s hand dropped from Malfoy’s arm, falling to her side which didn’t go unnoticed by the DADA teacher; things like this made him feel happy yet guilty. She deserves better than an old professor in his eyes and she shouldn’t be sad about him leaving.

He caught the Y/H/C-haired girl’s eyes as she moved to take her usual seat in front of his desk. Usually, she would desperately avoid his sight, something that pained him, but it was different today. For what reason, he didn’t know, or at least he didn’t until Draco took a seat beside her.

“You look lonely, Y/N/N,” he smirked. “Want some company?”

“I’d love some,” she returned his smile, one Lupin longed to be directed at him once again.

It had been about a week since he had seen Y/N last, and he wished the first time that he saw her again hadn’t been like this.

Malfoy and she were leaning against the wall outside of him classroom, both unaware of his presence. They were talking about something, something that he couldn’t hear and he was about to interrupt them until he saw the blonde lean in and capture her lips on his own. Eyes wide, Lupin turned and left, not hearing or seeing what had happened immediately after.

“Look guys,” Seamus laughed, noticing the letter that Y/N had received mere seconds ago. “Y/S/N got herself a howler!”

Y/N, who was now blushing at everyones attention on her, let out a sigh and she unwillingly opened it, aware of the consequences if she did not. The entire halls attention was on her as it began to scream:

“Y/N Y/S/N! How dare you reject Lucius Malfoy’s son! Draco is a lovely young boy, how dare you break his heart like that? He was nothing but nice to you and you won’t even let him take you out on a date? How ungrateful are you? You’re nothing but a frigid little girl, no man will ever love you!”

“Okay mother,” Y/N muttered, watching as the letter tore itself up. “I think I’m going to go.” Were her final words, not waiting for her friends replies before leaving, not realising who had followed her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as Y/N sat herself on the step outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, somewhere she had come out of habit. She always ended up here when she was upset. Nobody was come, it was early morning on a weekend.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice sounded around the corner. Of course he knew exactly where she had gone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she was clearly lying, he knew her too well for her to lie to him. “I just want to be alone.”

A sigh left Lupin’s lips as he took a seat beside her, robe almost tripping him which would have been comical if not for the situation at hand. “She’s not right, you know?” He chimed in.

“What?” Y/N turned to face the man she was once involved with, only for him to already be looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not unlovable,”

Confusion enveloped her body as Remus took Y/N’s cheek in his hand, finger roaming the flesh. “I love you,” without hesitation his lips pressed gently against her own, not thinking of the consequences. He enjoyed the way she kissed back immediately, being too used to his lips against hers.

But she pulled back moments after. “No you don’t,” she said. “If you did you wouldn’t have gotten rid of me.” Her hand reached up to snatch his hand from her cheek, missing the pain that flashed across his face.

“Can we talk in my office?”

“I guess,”

And so she followed him, noticing how dishevelled he looked along with the locking of the door. Despite his messy look, he was still attractive.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I didn’t do it for any reason other than wanting to protect you,” he admitted, flicking his wand to give her a seat as he took one beside her, tilting it so he could face her. “You need somebody your own age, somebody that won’t have to disappear once a month, someone that isn’t me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his confession, unsure as to how to respond. “But I don’t want anyone else. I love you and only you. You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m sure Malfoy would beg to differ. I’ve seen to way you two act.” He swallowed deeply, looking anywhere but her face.

“Are you jealous?”

The professor hesitated. “Yes, I want you to be only mine. I know that’s selfish but you’re all I can think about, you’re all I want. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

His hand reached to grasp Y/N’s own, intertwining their fingers whilst he enjoyed the blushing. His spare hand reached for her cheek once again as he spoke. “Forgive me?” His breath fanned across her lips, having moved closer to her face.

“Always,” she pushed her lips against his, something she had missed dearly. “I missed you so much.” She murmured as he pulled her into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as they kissed.

“Me too, darling,” he groaned at the feeling of her pressing against his area. “Let me show you how much.”

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Keys of truth - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

hiya loves! this was a very sudden idea of mine that i really wanted to write so i made it to be the last fic of fanficmas! thank you for reading my works through the month, i hope you all enjoyed all the content and i hope you’ll stay with me in 2021 as well! this is an exlovers to lovers fic, kind of very emotional so... yeah!

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

You stay in your car for so long the heat that warmed you on your way here has completely disappeared, your fingers are like ice as they still grip the steering wheel. The snow blizzard outside is raging, warning you that if you don’t go inside anytime soon you might get stuck here and that’s the last thing you want: trapped with your ex who you still dearly love.

You can barely see out of the windshield, it’s covered in snow, another sign that your time is ticking, you need to get back home before all roads get snowed in.

“You can do it. It’s just Harry,” you tell yourself, but that’s the problem. It’s Harry who is currently inside, kind of waiting for you to arrive, pack the remaining of your stuff from his house so your breakup can be official.

The burning regret has been making your life miserable in the past few weeks, ever since you said the words and instantly wanted to take them back. But upon seeing his reaction, you decided to be stubborn and don’t show your weakness.

“Can’t this conversation just wait a little longer, please?” he sighed, clearly annoyed that you brought up the same thing for the hundredth time in the past two months. But you just couldn’t help it, you were feeling like you were running out of time and Harry didn’t seem to realize it.

“How can you ask me to put it aside when my lease is ending in January? I need to know how to plan. Why is it so hard to decide if you want me here or not?”

The thought of moving together had come up a few times, but it became a burning question when your lease was nearing its end. You wanted to move in with Harry, something you’ve been planning on for a while, and you thought he did the same. But when you first mentioned it to him, he seemed hesitant, as if he didn’t want it wholeheartedly and that hurt you like Hell, but thought he might had had just a long day. So you agreed to have the conversation another time, but it seemed like no time was suitable for him. He had been dodging your question instantly, trying to get out of it as fast as possible, giving you the feeling that he doesn’t want you around after all.

But it was now the beginning of December, leaving you very little time to look for a new place if he decided he needed his own place. It wouldn’t have bothered you that much, you understand his need for privacy, but at least have the courage to tell you, right? But he didn’t. He kept brushing it off, building the tension in you until one day… you snapped.

“It’s not that easy, Y/N, alright? I asked you to have this discussion later, why can’t you wait a little more?” he snapped right back, growing frustrated as well, but you didn’t think he had the right.

“Wait for what? To make up your mind if you want a future with me or not? If you are hesitant about it, then I think we have a bigger problem on your hands here, Harry,” you retorted, feeling all the rage you’ve kept bottled up erupt from you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” He looks at you with a hard stare and you stand his piercing eyes, not looking away.

“What it means is that… your behavior is making me think that maybe we aren’t heading in the right direction. I thought it was evident that we would move in, but your hesitation is kind of ruining the picture for me.”

“I’m not hesitating, I just asked for some time to smooth some things out!”

“What things? Do you have someone else living with you and you need to get rid of them before I can move in or what?”

“For fuck’s sake, just give me some damn time, Y/N!”

“Well, I don’t think I have any more time.”

He stared at you in disbelief and the words burned your tongue, but there was no turning back now, it was out there.

“For the moving or for me?” he simply asked, no emotion showing on his face and that hurt you more than you expected. You wanted him to panic, to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, but his reaction was so cold and empty, it completely broke your heart.

“I think we both know the answer,” you whispered, feeling the tears building in your eyes already.

You stormed out of his place after a few insults were thrown at each other and now it has been three weeks you officially called it quits. The worst three weeks of your life, if you are being honest. Not one night went by without you crying yourself to sleep, deeply missing Harry. You still love him more than anyone or anything and there were so many times you just wanted to go back to him crawling, but your pride didn’t let you. He seemed just fine to let you go and that was like a stab in your chest, see him so in peace with you walking out. You just couldn’t believe two years went right out the window just like that, after such a ridiculous little thing. You still haven’t been able to figure out why he couldn’t just give you an answer. It would have been painful to hear him tell you he doesn’t want you living with him just yet, but you would have gotten over it eventually. Would have been a lot better ending to the story than this ugly breakup you won’t be able to forget about… ever.

Swinging the door open the cold wind slaps you right across your face, earning some pretty creative curses from you as you lock the car. Snow is everywhere, threateningly falling with no mercy, and you know you need to make it quick.

Marching up to the front door you push the button to the doorbell a little too forcefully, eyes squinting from the blizzard and it feels like your eyelashes are now covered in snow completely.

Then the door opens and there he is, standing tall and just as handsome as always, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a knitted sweater, curls a little messy but in the cutest way possible. He looks so cozy and warm, you just want to wrap yourself into his embrace, but you remind yourself that you no longer have the right to be that close to him.

“Hey, come on in,” he greets you with a small smile, holding the door open as you walk inside and he finally shuts the door, keeping the cold outside.

You haven’t seen him since your fight and now it’s like another slap across your face, seeing him in the flesh, looking… fine. As if nothing has happened while you’ve been a nervous wreck these past weeks and it makes the whole situation even more painful.

“Hi. I’ll be quick, I promise,” you tell him clearing your throat as you get rid of your coat and boots, leaving them by the door so you don’t get any mess on any of his rugs. He nods his head quietly following you further inside the house before taking the lead. You’ve thought about this place as a second home for some time now, but now being here as just some kind of guest is heartbreaking, but you try your best not to think about how painful it really is.

“Most things are in the wardrobe, but I think you have quite some books in the study as well,” he says, awkwardly clearing his throat as he walks you into his bedroom he has shared with you oh so many times before.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Do you fancy a cup of tea? I can also help you if you want,” he offers, clearly not certain about how he should act now and that makes the two of you, it seems.

“Tea sounds great, but I’ll be fine on my own,” you tell him with a faint smile and he just nods, shuffling out of the room, leaving you alone.

You start going through his spacious wardrobe, collecting all your items you’ve left here through your time with him, and pack them away into the bags you brought with yourself, knowing well you have a lot to take home. You hear Harry starting the kettle outside in the kitchen and you need to take a deep breath so you don’t start crying. You miss him so much. You miss having him around, talking to you, touching you… kissing you. It’s killing you to know that you’ll never have him the way you want and it feels like you can do nothing, but to suffer quietly.

While packing, you find some of the shirts he always gave you when you spent the night, even though you had your own clothes to sleep in. There was just something different to have his shirts on, smell his scent and he also never failed to tell you how much he loves seeing you wear his stuff, so you shamelessly borrowed anything that caught your eyes. For a moment, you debate if he would notice if you took one of his shirts, but then you tell yourself it would be a stupid idea, so you force yourself to leave there everything that’s not essentially yours.

“Here. With a dash of honey, just like how you always drink it,” he smiles at you warmly as he reappears with a steaming mug in his hands.

“Thank you,” you mumble shyly taking the mug from him to have a breather from all the packing.

He stays standing there, just a few feet from you, looking around a little lost, his hands on his hips, as if he is trying to find something to do, but there’s none. It’s the first time you see something in him, something you are not used to, but it’s so masked that you can’t put your finger on it.

“Alright, um… I’ll be in the kitchen if you need any help,” he then says with a tight-lipped smile before walking out and leaving you alone again.

You need a breather once he is gone, you let yourself sit on the edge of his bed, sipping on the tea and you can’t ignore how he used your favorite filter, the one you always made him buy so he had it at his place as well. These thoughtful little things always make your stomach churn, especially now. Because you just can’t put it together with how it all ended. Why would he be this caring and loving man towards you, when he doesn’t want you anymore?

Swallowing down you tears you just sit there until you finish the hot drink and force yourself to stand up and bring the mug out for him. Your feet tap against the hardwood floor quietly and as you are about to turn the corner, you stop hearing his quiet voice coming from the kitchen.

“I can’t, Gems. I can’t fucking do it,” you hear him, his voice muffled and something odd lacing through it. “But it’s so fucking hard!” he snaps after a short silence and you assume his sister told him something through the phone. “I don’t want this…” he breathes out and you realize that he is crying.

He lets out a quiet sob and you dare to step forward and look in his way in the kitchen. He is hunched over with his back facing you, a hand gripping the edge of the counter while the other one his holding his phone to his ear. He looks so broken, like just a ghost of himself, nothing like the unbothered man you saw just a little while ago. Seeing him like this breaks your heart even more and you don’t even know what to do or say, so you just stand there, eavesdropping on his conversation with his sister.

“I don’t know how she would react. You really think it’s a good idea?” he asks, sniffing his nose and his hand flies from the countertop to his face, wiping his cheeks harshly. “I don’t… Fuck, this is so bad, Gems.”

You feel your throat closing up, you are dying to know what Gemma is saying on the other end of the call.

“I know,” he replies to something. “Of course I do. How can I not? This was never supposed to happen.” Another silence. “I fucking know, Gems, but I felt so dumbfounded, I literally couldn’t think straight!”

You suck on your breath, trying your best to put the bits and pieces together. If he is talking about what you think, you are about to break out into sobs any moment.

“Alright,” he sighs, head falling back a little as he is probably blinking away his tears. The urge to just go up behind him and hug his waist, pressing your cheek against his shoulder blades, like you always do whenever he is washing the dishes or making breakfast for the two of you, is getting hard to fight.

He ends the call and before you could even realize, your feet are taking you forward in his direction. Your knee cracks when you take a bigger step and it makes his head snap around. You freeze right where you are, a few feet away from him, holding your empty mug in your hands, staring back at him at a lack of words. Now that he is facing you it’s clear that he was indeed crying, the redness around his eyes and glistening cheeks of his give him away instantly.

“Oh, um, hey. You need help with anything?” he asks, wiping his cheeks again, though there’s no use in trying to hide the signs.

“Harry, what was that about?” you softly ask as he keeps his eyes fixated on the tiled floor in front of him.

“Just… Gemma.”

“What was never supposed to happen?” you ask ignoring how he tried to dodge your question. He draws a shaky breath, looking anywhere but at you and you hate it. You need to see those green eyes on you. So stepping closer you turn his head by his chin so his glassy gaze meets yours.

Harry opens his mouth two times, but closes it until he finally speaks up for the third time.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he tells you, caching you by surprise.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Just…” he breathes out in defeat. “Let me give it to you, okay? And I’ll answer all your questions after that.”

Silently you nod and watch him shuffle into his bedroom, hearing him open a drawer and then he appears with a tiny box in his hands. It’s deep blue, with a pretty little white bow on top. He gestures for you to sit on the couch with him, so you silently obey and the two of you sit on each sides of his plush couch.

“Here,” he whispers handing you the box. Glancing up at him you try to put the picture together, but you fail to see what this is about so you go ahead and take off the lid.

At first you don’t realize what it is that you are looking at. There is a set of keys on a chain along with a little silver heart, your name engraved into it. A second passes by, then another and you gasp when realization hits you.

“Harry, what is this?” you ask, not really meaning that what’s in the box, because you figured it’s the keys to his place, but you can’t figure out why he just gave this to you.

“I’ve had them made for over two months. Wanted to give them to you on Christmas as a surprise. This was my plan all along and this is why I tried to push the conversation back. There was nothing to talk about, I wanted you here, I just wanted it to be a surprise for you. But then we had that stupid fight and I knew I should have just told you the truth, but I was shocked and couldn’t think properly. I never wanted us to end up like this and when I realized what I did you were already… gone.”

The tears start soaking your cheeks within a moment as you clutch onto the keys for dear life, listening to Harry.

“I was an idiot. I wanted to call you and tell you why I didn’t want to talk about the moving, but then I thought you wouldn’t believe me and say that I was just trying to save what was left of us. Fuck, that was my biggest mistake ever. I haven’t stopped beating myself up about it and I’ve been so miserable without you, Y/N. You can’t even imagine.”

“I think I can,” you choke out with a bitter laugh. “I regretted it the moment I said those words. But I was too proud to admit it and you seemed just fine with it.”

“Oh I was miles away from being fine,” he breathes out, his body falling forward as he leans his elbows onto his thighs. “I didn’t stop crying until like six in the morning, Y/N. After you left, I felt like I had nothing left.”

You sob at his words, putting the keys aside as you crawl into his arms, swinging a leg over him so you can straddle him and sit on his lap. His strong arms curl around your frame instantly, an instinct he has had for a while now and three weeks wasn’t enough to get rid of it, luckily. He pulls you close as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing and crying uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry I ever made you think I’m not planning my future with you. You are my future, Y/N. All of it.”

“Stop!” you choke out laughing. “I can’t cry any harder!” you say, making him laugh as well. His hand slides to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair.

“Oh baby, I don’t want you to cry at all,” he chuckles softly, pulling you to his chest once again. “I want you to be happy, preferably with me, but if you tell me to fuck off, I still understand.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you smack his chest gently. “I love you way too much to ever say that.”

“Fuck, you don’t know how amazing it is to hear that,” he breathes out as his hands move up to cup your face and he finally pulls you into a sweet, i-missed-you-so-fucking-much-don’t-ever-leave-me-again kiss that makes the whole world spin around you. Just like that, the universe falls into perfect balance and all the suffering and pain you had to go through, it vanishes the moment Harry’s lips touch yours again, something you truly thought would never happen again.

“So, have you found a place yet?” he asks, a little out of breath from the kisses you two just shared. Resting his forehead against yours he looks into your eyes with his piercing green ones that you missed so dearly.

“I was supposed to move to my sister’s temporarily, but I guess I can give her a call that she won’t have to put up with me after all,” you chuckle making Harry laugh as well. “When do you want me to move?”

“Like right now,” he replies instantly, making your heart flutter. “But whenever you want to, it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t change your mind about it.”

“Then how about after Christmas?”

“Perfect,” he breathes out pecking your lips again.

“I guess we have to rearrange our Christmas plans too. Unless… you don’t want me to go home with you.”

“None of that shit anymore, baby. I want you with me all the time,” he blurts out making you smile. He will never hold anything back from now on, this mishap taught you both a lesson about communication and honesty. He turns to look out the window and you follow his gaze realizing the blizzard has completely snowed the two of you in. “I think we might be trapped here for a while,” he states, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Oh no, what a disaster!” you moan, voice still shaky from the crying, but your comment makes the both of you laugh.

“Luckily, you still have all your stuff here,” he huffs looking back at you.

“Mhm, luckily,” you breathe out before pulling him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #fanficmas2020 #fanficmas 2020 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2020

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tyongxnct · 3 years

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖 - 𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑱𝒆𝒏𝒐

pairing: Jaemin x reader, Jeno x reader

special guest: /

summary: Jaemin was everyone’s dream. He was the perfect boyfriend, someone you’d want to introduce to your parents. Your friends were jealous but they didn’t understand you. They didn’t understand how bad you felt in your relationship with Jaemin. They didn’t understand that you missed Jeno. Even thought Jaemin was perfect, you missed Jeno. You missed his love, you missed the fights and you missed making up with him. Your heart will always belong to Lee Jeno.

song: the way I loved you - Taylor Swift

genre: exes-to-lovers!au, angst

warnings: mention of sex, this is a SEQUEL to my story WE DON’T TALK ANYMORE

word count: 3.7k

A/N: thank you for resquesting this song! I hope you enjoy this sequel of we don’t talk anymore 💖💖

taglist: @aesthetichrj @bvbyxuxi

this is fiction!

He is sensible and So incredible and All my single friends are jealous He says everything I need to hear And it's like I couldn't ask for anything better

He opens up my door And I get into his car And he says, "you look beautiful tonight" And I feel perfectly fine

Your relationship with Jaemin was great. No, it was perfect. He was perfect. Jaemin was the perfect boyfriend, everyone’s dream. The way he cared for you, the way he was always there for you, everyone you knew was jealous of your perfect relationship with Jaemin.

You understood them. Who wouldn’t want a boyfriend who was an absolute gentleman, your parents loved him and he was an incredibly good friend. And he was your boyfriend. He was yours, you were his.

Perfect, right?

Jaemin took you on dates at least four times every week, he bought you flowers every time, even though you told him not to, because you had no space in your apartment anymore and the poor flowers died because you couldn’t keep them alive, you were always bad with flowers and plants.

He didn’t care, he wanted to shower you with flowers, chocolate, presents, kisses, and hugs. Jaemin wanted to buy you the world, he wanted to give you everything and so much more, you deserved it so much in his eyes, all of the love he could give to you, you deserved it.

Another day another date.

Jaemin picked you up and he couldn’t take his eyes away from you, he never could.

“Babe you look absolutely gorgeous tonight. No scratch that, you look gorgeous every night. Are you sure you are human?”

And the whole night he kept on complimenting you, at first your heart fluttered and you got shy and happy. But after months of hearing the same things over and over again, you didn’t feel special anymore. You didn’t feel like wearing something pretty, he was going to tell you how gorgeous you looked anyways.

The worst part was when he told you how perfect you were on your period, you almost exploded. You were so angry, you felt so disgusting and ugly and he kept on telling you that you were perfect.

You didn’t feel like it and you knew that you looked like a witch with your messy bun, sweatpants, and your hoodie. Your mouth covered in chocolate, you felt like absolute shit, and he was there standing and telling you that you looked perfect.

But you didn’t want to feel perfect every single day.

It sound weird but it’s exhausting.

You didn’t want to hear those compliments every second of your day, you wanted to feel special but you didn’t feel special anymore.

And that was your breaking point.

You loved Jaemin, you were happy with him, you never fought, you never had a disagreement, he always agreed with you on anything. It was almost like Jaemin had no opinion.

“Where do you want to go tonight?” he asked you as he smiled brightly at you.

“I don’t care. Can’t you choose for once?” you watched the cars driving past you.

“Babe, you know that I eat everything, I’m fine with anything you want.”

“McDonald’s.” you just wanted your fries and go home.

“McDonald’s? But it’s date night babe?”

“Then choose yourself! You asked me and I gave you an answer!” you blurred out without thinking. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell-“

“You’re right though babe, McDonald’s it is!” he was still smiling at you even though you just yelled at him?

Sometimes you wished he would just scream at you and get angry, hell you would thank him for screaming at you, but he never raised his voice at you. Never.

You ate silently your burger and Jaemin held your hair back. “You eat like a little baby.” He giggled.

You ignored him.

“Babe you spilled some sauce on your hoodie.”

“Love, are you still hungry? Do you want me to get you a happy meal?”

“My pretty baby looks so cute with sauce on her lips.”

You were too tired to think of ways to stop him from babying you. You ignored him the whole way back to your apartment but he kept on talking and talking. You shouldn’t be bored, but you were. You were so tired of the same stories and words. You didn’t even notice that you fell asleep until Jaemin softly woke you up. Without giving him a goodbye kiss or asking him to come up, you just said bye and left his car.

You couldn’t really talk to your friends about your situation with Jaemin. They looked at you as if you were a mad woman.

“Are you crazy? Jaemin is a sweetheart, he is so handsome and a gentleman. How could you get bored? I could listen to him all day long.” Your friend said.

“Why don’t you date him then?” you hissed at her, you were annoyed that she spoke so highly about your boyfriend, back in the days, when you were with Jeno, she also tried to get into his pants but Jeno was always faithful to you.

“Honey! I don’t mean it like that, I mean, did you forget how Jeno treated you? Look at Jaemin, he treats you like a queen, he loves you so much. I’d kill to get a boyfriend like him.”

Your friends kept talking about how perfect Jaemin is and you were just sitting there with them, trying so hard not to explode. They didn’t understand you, nobody did. Jaemin is perfect, you know that, but your heart doesn’t want perfect.

But I miss screaming and fighting And kissing in the rain And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name You're so in love that you act insane And that's the way I loved you

Breakin' down and coming undone It's a roller-coaster kinda rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

You watched Jaemin sleep next to you. His pretty face looked beautiful in the moonlight. Everything about Jaemin was beautiful and great, but your mind was still on something else.

Or on someone else.

You turned your back to him, you felt ashamed that you thought of another man while your boyfriend was right next to you, but no matter how hard you to tried to push him off your mind, he always found a way back. Jeno always found a way back. It was two a.m. and you hated it that he was on your mind every.

You missed it, you missed your relationship with Jeno.

You missed loving him and being loved by him.

You missed yelling and screaming until both of your lunges hurt, because in the end his love was always stronger than his words to you.

You missed fighting with Jeno because you felt alive whenever he came back apologizing, you felt even more loved whenever he tried to tell you that he was sorry and how much he loved you. You saw it in his eyes that no fight was worth giving up your relationship, until he really went too far and you had enough.

But was it worth it?

Was breaking up with Jeno really worth it?

There was so much passion in your relationship, so much adrenaline and powerful love, so much lust and desire.

Your relationship with Jaemin was almost just one sided. He loved you, he bought presents for you, he kissed and hugged you, he fucked you, he was there for you.

It’s not like you just let him, you tried. You really tried to be a perfect girlfriend for perfect Jaemin, but he never let you. He never lets you do anything for him, he told you to let him do anything for you. But you couldn’t live like that, you couldn’t just sit back and let him have a relationship on his own.

Jaemin told you that he wanted to spoil you, since your breakup with Jeno was so hard, but it’s been months and you weren’t the broken girl you were before, you were ready for a new relationship, you were ready to do anything for Jaemin, but in the end you were just bored and angry.

Jaemin treats you like a little baby, whereas Jeno treated you like a woman. A strong, sexy, independent woman. And you loved it, you loved your dynamic with Jeno. You loved the fire in your relationship, you loved everything about your relationship.

Your relationship with Jeno was a rollercoaster and your relationship with Jaemin is plain and simple.

You love Jaemin, but you would never love him the way you loved Jeno.

He respects my space And never makes me wait And he calls exactly when he says he will He's close to my mother Talks business with my father He's charming and endearing and I'm comfortable

You visited you parents with Jaemin. They told you they missed him and wanted you to come over and Jaemin was hyped to meet you parents again. They loved Jaemin, he was the ideal son-in-law, the ideal man for their daughter and of course, he wasn’t Jeno.

Jaemin helped your mother with dinner and he helped your father in the garden while you were in your old childhood room going through your old memories.

Memories of Jeno and you.

Jeno and you on your first date.

Jeno’s cute love letter for you (he hated it whenever you talked about it, he was so embarrassed about it).

And many of your anniversaries.

“Babe! Dinner is ready!” Jaemin softly knocked on your door and scared you.

“Shit! My heart.” You held onto your heart, he scared the shit out of you.

Jaemin was watching you wallow in memories for a couple minutes until he decided to wake you up from your daydream. He saw the pictures of you and Jeno in your hand and he was hurt. Jaemin knew that you were thinking about him non-stop, but he hoped that your love for Jeno would fade away and you’d move on and love Jaemin just like Jaemin loved you.

He’d give you more time if you needed, he’d wait for you, he’d give you as much space as you need to sort out your thoughts and feelings.

“What are you doing? What’s that?” he asked you as he saw the letter and the pictures in your hand.

“Oh it’s nothing… important,” you put the pictures and the letter back to their place. “Let’s go downstairs, I don’t want the food to get cold.” You faked a smile.

You didn’t say a word, you just ate and half listened to your family talking with Jaemin.

“What do you say Y/n?” your dad said.

“Huh? What?”

“What do you say to moving in with Jaemin. I really don’t like you staying all alone, and we trust Jaemin enough to live with you and care for you.”

Jaemin saw the frown on your face. “Dad-“

“Sir, I think we shouldn’t rush. I know Y/n, and I know that she needs her own safe place. Everything is perfect right now, we don’t need to live under the same roof, I care for your daughter anyways, but like I said, we should wait a little more.” he smiled at you and you secretly thanked him for saving the situation.

Jaemin knew that you weren’t ready to take the next step in your relationship, he knew that you needed a place just for yourself, a place you could go to whenever you wanted to be alone.

“Alright son, it’s your decision.”

After dinner you helped your mother cleaning up the kitchen and Jaemin and your father went back to the garden, talking about Jaemin’s work.

“I’m so glad you’re not with the other guy anymore.” Your mother said as she watched her husband and Jaemin from the window.

“He has a name mom.”

“As If I say his name ever again,” she huffed, “After what he did to you, after how he treated our little baby daughter-“

“I’m not a kid anymore mom, and don’t talk about Jeno like he killed me, we had arguments like any other couple. Any other normal couple.” You and Jaemin weren’t a normal couple, you were far from that.

“Are you defending him now? Did you forget how much you cried when you came to us after your breakup?”

“Maybe it was a mistake to break up with him.” You mumbled to yourself.

“What did you say honey?”

“I said, maybe it was a mistake to break up with him!” you admitted to your mother.

“What? Don’t tell me you miss him? Look at him,” she pointed at Jaemin, “You have a perfect boyfriend, Jaemin is someone you should love and marry.”

“Oh god mom, you don’t get it. Nobody get’s it. Seriously, if you all think so highly about Jaemin why don’t you go and marry him and leave me alone?!”

You left the kitchen angrily and made your way to Jaemin and your father.

“It’s late, we should go.” You told Jaemin who was just talking to your dad.

“It’s not that late, stay a little longer. Your mother baked a cake this morning-“

“No dad, it’s really late. We should really go.”

Jaemin didn’t want to anger you, he could see the anger written all over your face, so he just agreed with you, like he always did.

“Thank you for tonight, dinner was amazing.”

You were already waiting in the car as Jaemin bid goodbye to your parents.

He silently drove you home, for the first time he didn’t talk and talk and talk. The silence was refreshing, you could finally rest your mind and soul after the dinner with your parents.

“I’ll call you tomorrow around 12, is that alright for you?” Jaemin asked you softly.

“Sure. Drive safe.” you just wanted to take off your clothes and take a long shower.

But I miss screaming and fighting And kissing in the rain And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name You're so in love that you act insane And that's the way I loved you

Breakin' down and coming undone It's a roller-coaster kinda rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

Jaemin left you that night and you were glad that he managed the situation with your parents and moving in together. You weren’t ready to take that step with Jaemin, hell you weren’t even sure if you saw a future with him. You had to admit, that all you could think about was Jeno and that was so wrong, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You felt bad for Jaemin but talking about moving in together helped you realize that you could never love anyone as much as you loved Jeno and that there was actually no future for you and Jaemin. Jaemin was perfect, but you don’t want perfect, you want Jeno. You want the passion and the love you had with Jeno.

Jaemin didn’t deserve to be led on, and he definitely didn’t deserve to be second choice. Jaemin deserved someone as nice as him, as kind as him and his lovely as him. But that person was someone else, not you.

You were missing Jeno. Jeno made you feel tons of emotions and Jaemin didn’t.

You remembered the last time you saw Jeno, he looked so broken, so lost. You remembered the last call you had. How he tried to get you back and how much you’ve been thinking about him since then. It wasn’t long ago, maybe he still wanted to get back with you. Maybe he has someone else already.

You could hear the pain in his voice when you told him that you actually wanted to give him a second chance before. It broke your own heart hearing his broken voice and telling him that it was over was maybe a big mistake.

Because clearly, it wasn’t over. Your feelings, your love for Jeno was still there.

“Hey.” Jaemin called you exactly at 12 the next day.

“Hi.” he almost whispered, “Can I come over?”

You told Jaemin that it was okay to come over and you felt like it was over, because it was.

Jaemin was sitting on your couch and you were at the other edge, leaving space between you two.

“How did you sleep?” you tried to be nice, you didn’t want to fight with him again.

“Good. You?”

“Good, I guess.”

Silence.

He can't see the smile I'm faking And my heart's not breaking 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all And you were wild and crazy Just so frustrating, intoxicating Complicated, got away by some mistake and now

Jaemin leaned to you and pressed his lips softly on yours. You didn’t feel anything. You didn’t feel any sparks, your heart didn’t beat against your chest, you felt nothing.

You smiled and nobody could see how fake your smile was. Jaemin never realized that you always faked a smile, that most of your affection was fake until now, but he couldn’t blame you. It was alright, he was alright. Jaemin wanted to kiss you one last time before it was officially over between you.

“We’re breaking up, right?” he said in a painful tone.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. You were sorry, but you didn’t feel like you were making a mistake, because you weren’t. This was the right decision. Breaking up with Jaemin was the only right thing to do, for him and for you.

“It’s okay. I saw you going through your stuff yesterday in your old room and I knew that it was over. And I’m not mad, I don’t understand but if your heart still wants him, there’s nothing I can do.” He nervously played with his fingers.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but the things I feel for him, it’s just so different and I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. I just can’t stop loving him” you felt dumb for leaving Jeno in the first place and maybe you were destroying everything good in your life right now, but it wasn’t fair to Jaemin, he deserved better.

Jaemin’s heart broke, and you could see it in his eyes, but your heart didn’t feel anything but relief.

I miss screaming and fighting And kissing in the rain It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name I'm so in love that I acted insane And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller-coaster kinda rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you oh, oh

You found yourself in front of Jeno’s apartment, your old apartment. Were you making the biggest mistake of your life right now? You didn’t know and you didn’t care, you just wanted to tell Jeno what you feel and get it off of your chest. So that’s what you did.

You softly knocked on his door.

You were as shocked as Jeno was when he opened the door and your eyes locked.

“H-Hi.” You whispered. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, so you just let the tears roll down your face.

Jeno opened his arms for you and you jumped into his arms and hugged him as tightly as you could. You sobbed in his arms as you hid your face in his chest. Jeno was also crying and holding you tightly, he’d never let go. He’d never do the same mistake again, he couldn’t lose you ever again.

“I love you. I love you so much, I’m so sorry,” he cried out, “I can’t live without you.”

You sobbed harder, it was impossible to stop loving him, Jeno is your everything, you also can’t live without him.

“I’m sorry-“ you apologized for leaving him, for telling him to never call you again.

“No, no, you did nothing wrong, everything was my fault- I did this to us and I’m so sorry. I love you so much, I promise you I’ll never let go of your hand again if you give me a second chance.”

You softly pulled back and looked him in the eyes, his eyes were as red and puffy as yours.

“I love you so much Jeno, nothing makes sense without you. I don’t want to be away from you ever again, I can only love you.” you confessed.

Jeno softly placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped your tears away “I will always love you, I’ll always be there for you. I love you so much, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for letting you go. I’m so sorry for everything I said and did.”

His apology was genuine, just like his love for you.

Jeno loved you and you loved Jeno, as simple as that and going back to him was the best decision you have ever made.

You were cuddling with Jeno on his couch and talking about everything you had missed in each other’s life, and he was dying to ask you this one question.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked and kissed your temple.

“You already did,” you teased him, “I’m kidding. Of course you can.”

“Did you love him?”

You knew that he’d ask you about Jaemin and that was okay.

“I think I did, I don’t really know. It was different with Jaemin. He was different.”

“So you just broke up with him?”

“Yes. Well it was a mutual decision. I didn’t want to hurt him and he knew it already.”

“Knew what?”

“That I was never going to love him like I love you. That you are the only one I want to be with, that you are everything to me and that I love you so, so much. He knew that I missed you and that I was thinking about you. Jaemin knew that the way I loved you was so different and I knew it too.”

You looked him in his teary eyes, he almost cried again and it hurt you to see him so vulnerable.

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry. Forgive me for being an idiot.” he mumbled against you lips.

“I love you too, I forgave you Jeno, or else I wouldn’t be here in your arms.” You smiled softly and connected your lips with his.

And that's the way I loved you oh, oh Never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

#jeno angst #jaemin angst #nct angst #nct dream angst #na jaemin #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #jeno x you #jaemin x you #nct scenarios #nct songfic #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #lee jeno angst #na jaemin angst #nct dream #I'm sorry jaemin ily

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serodev · 3 years

Note

Hello there, I saw that your requests were open so I hope you don't mind answering mine.

Could you write(scenario please) modern Gyomei X fem reader fighting alot and reader just decides to end the whole relationship because of it. They have been together for some years and recently they have been in a lot of arguments because Gyomei doesn't spend enough time with reader and he is constantly around other women that reader thinks are better, prettier and more attractive than her. Gyomei doesn't notice that they are trying to flirt with him and discards her feelings which leads to the end of the relationship.

Some days later Gyomei goes to look for reader to apologize and work out their issues.

Can it be angst to fluff please? I don't know if you write angst and if you don't write for Gyomei you can change it to Kyo or Tengen.

Please could you tag me in this? If you don't want to that's fine.

Have a nice day🥰🥰

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, slight fluff!

Pairing: Gyomei x gn!reader

Note(s): Changed the reader from female to gn as we agreed to! I hope you enjoy this drabble~

You had tried your best to not let your emotions get the best of you when it came to Gyomei, his blindness, and partly to his obviousness, but you had to admit that your patience was starting to wear thin when it came to him.

That's why you started to act petty and angry towards him even though you knew that he didn't deserve it, but you couldn't help but feel unsure about your relationship with him. Deep down, you knew he was faithful to you, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel angry with him for letting the other women flirt with him.

"Gyomei, this is literally it! I don't want you to come here anymore! You rarely even spend time with me because you're constantly around other people, especially women, who are far prettier, better, and more attractive than me!" You yelled out one night when he had, once again, come home late smelling strongly like a cheap perfume.

You couldn't stop yelling even though you knew that it hurt both of you, and you couldn't help but start sobbing at some point as you saw tears falling from his eyes. "Y/n, love-" He tried to make you change your mind in his own confused state, but you knew that it was too late by then, and instead, you ended up walking out of the door, leading you into the chilly night.

The next few days after the incident were hard for you because even though you felt angry towards Gyomei for what he had done, you still couldn't help but feel longing towards him. The fact that he had called you few times after the messy breakup didn't help your case at all, and it was close that you would've returned back to him. However, you were way too stubborn to do that, and instead, you hid under your bed covers where you had spent most of your time after getting home.

Things didn't stay like this for a long time, though, because you heard a quiet knock on the door while you were making food for yourself.

You had pretty much forgotten what had happened by then, so you didn't hesitate to open the door until you saw your ex-lover in front of you. The situation was certainly awkward, especially because Gyomei had started to cry at some point, so you couldn't do anything else than to let him in with a quiet sight.

"What do you want?" You didn't have any poison left in your tone as you handed Gyomei a piece of paper so that he could dry his tears up while you waited for his answer. "Y/n... I'm sorry about what happened back then." He started.

Just hearing what he said almost made your blood boil, but you kept yourself calm as you sat across him because you could tell that he had much more to say.

"I didn't know why you wanted to break up with me. I was confused, sad, and hurt about what you said, but it gave me a chance to think about what had happened." The taller man explained his stance, and you hummed quietly to let him know that you were still listening to him.

"Gyomei—" You started to speak, but he cut you off before you could continue.

"I hope you can believe me when I say this, y/n. I'm sorry, and I promise to work on my mistakes." — Gyomei was crying harder by the time he ended his sentence, and you couldn't help but smile sadly. "What about the other women who flirted with you?" You couldn't help but ask because they were a big part of the whole break-up in the first place. This made Gyomei fall silent before he shrugged his shoulders a bit.

"I didn't know they were flirting with me. I was fully devoted to you, y/n." He whispered, and you couldn't help but feel a bit bad for thinking otherwise.

"Okay."

This made Gyomei perk up a bit, and you wiped your eyes just in case because you didn't want to be the one crying. "I forgive you, but please try to keep your promise." You started to speak, and you leaned in to place your hand on top of his with a tiny smile on your lips.

"I think it should be me apologizing because I was the one who misunderstood the actual situation. So, Gyomei, I'm sorry." You asked for forgiveness, and all you heard was a tiny hum before you felt his warm lips on your cheek.

"Let's try to work our way up from here."

Author's note: Asdkfjhsd,,,, I'm so sorry that it took so long for me to reply to your requests. I have been having a busy day after another, so I kind of hit this long road where I didn't have any kind of inspiration! However, I still hope you got to enjoy this drabble!

#himejima gyomei #gyomei himejima #himejima gyoumei #kny gyomei #gyomei x y/n #gyomei x you #gyomei x reader #kny x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #pillars #sero writes #request

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nowandajenn · 3 years

Note

Can i ask for a fic wich chris and reader had a fight and broke up and chris really want to take her back but can't find her because she was mad and change her adress and number but he didn't give up and finally find her but also find out that she has their new born Triplet ?!

So I’m finally just now getting around to writing this, and I apologize for it taking so long to get done! I did decide to make it twins instead of triplets, because triplets is a fucking lot lol. I hope you still enjoy it!

Not proofread. All mistakes are my own.

It had taken months to find you. After the break up, you had essentially become a ghost. You changed your phone number, you moved, and it seemed like nobody knew where you had gone, and the ones that did know sure as hell weren’t about to tell him how to find you. He had been a complete idiot; going to lunch with Jenny and spending time with her while he had a girl that he was slowly falling in love with waiting for him. They had such a strong history together though, and so many memories shared together, that he couldn’t seem to just walk away from it all.

Of course, they had been snapped out at a restaurant together, talking and laughing, and it wasn’t long until the pictures hit the internet and your friends and family had been blowing up your phone, asking what the hell was going on. Your relationship with Chris was still fairly new, as you’d only been seeing each other for about eight months or so, and you were trying to enjoy just being with Chris and being happy while also worrying that you were a rebound for him after he and his ex had broken up a second time.

Chris had come home later that evening with flowers for you, only to find you going around the house packing up all of the stuff that you had kept there. He had recently been bringing up you moving in with him since you spent most of your time there anyway, but you felt like it was too soon, and you didn’t know if he was quite as ready for that step as he said he was. Now you were really glad that you had held off.

The two of you had stood there and fought and argued, you telling him that you deserved more than to just be a rebound to try and help him get over the girl who he once claimed was “the love of his life” and you weren’t going to stick around if he was going to go behind your back and spend time with her and try and rekindle things for a third time. You told him that he was an idiot to think that the third time would be the charm when it hadn’t worked out the first two times they’d been together. He tried to explain that even though they had broken up, he still cared about her and just because they spent time together didn’t mean that they were getting back together. He told you that you absolutely were not a rebound, and he was falling in love with you, but you weren’t hearing it. You had picked up your duffel bag, and with a kiss to his cheek and hugging Dodger around the neck and stifling a small sob into his fur, you had walked out of his life.

It didn’t take long to see what a huge idiot he had been, and how wrong he had been to see Jenny and not tell you about it or have any sort of conversation about it. He hated that you had been blindsided, and he hated that he made you feel like he was using you as a distraction or something to fill the void left after Jenny left. He tried to text you and call you, but all the texts were left on “delivered” and you would reject his calls, until one day he tried calling you and a stranger answered and told Chris that he had the wrong number. He finally psyched himself up enough to try and swing by your apartment to see if you would at least see him and let him try and apologize, but when he showed up, your apartment was empty and the landlord said that you had moved out and hadn’t left a forwarding address. He was heartbroken. He had tried talking to your friends, but they were unfailingly loyal to you, and wouldn’t tell him anything.

It had taken just over seven months, and a lot of failed tries, but he finally had an address in his hand. It was in Chicago, where you had grown up, and he had booked the first flight that he could. He wasn’t sure if you would slam the door in his face or punch him or even open the door to him, but he had to try. If he didn’t, he knew he’d regret it.

Chris takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, nerves suddenly overtaking him and making his stomach turn itself into knots. After a few seconds, he knocks again and hears a male voice yell “Coming!” His heart drops, immediately assuming that you had moved on from him and he lost his shot.

The door swings open, and he’s surprised to see an older man, probably in his mid 50s, standing in the doorway.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh.....sorry, I think I have the wrong address. I was looking for y/n y/l/n. I’m Chris.”

The man steps forward onto the porch, making Chris fall back a couple steps.

“Oh, I know exactly who you are. You’re the one my daughter wouldn’t shut up about for a few months, and then never wanted to speak about again.”

Chris swallows hard, his mouth dry as the desert and feeling a little scared, because your dad looks kind of mean and like he could lay him out if he wanted to. Your dad turns around and walks back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

He exhales hard and turns around to walk back to his rental car.

“That went about as well as I thought it would.” he mutters to himself.

He’s halfway back to the car when he hears your front door open. He looks up and his breath catches when he sees you standing there, your arms crossed over your chest. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts that show off your legs and a baggy Tshirt, your hair thrown up in a messy bun. You look like you’ve gained a little bit of weight since the last time he saw you, but it looks good on you.

“Hey.” he breathes out.

Your jaw clenches. “How did you find me?”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy. I had Josh track you down. It took a lot longer than I wanted it to. I would have been here about seven months ago if I had known where you were, but nobody would tell me.”

You scoff. “Yet here you are. Because Chris Evans just doesn’t know when to give up.”

He winces slightly, knowing that you’re not just referring to his search for you, but the whole thing with Jenny that caused your breakup.

You both stand there in silence for a few minutes, unsure what to do next, when you breathe out a heavy sigh and wave your arm towards the house, gesturing for him to come in.

“Come on. We have a lot to talk about.” you tell him.

Your dad shoots him a glare as you lead him into the house, and he swallows hard and follows you into the kitchen, taking your offer of a bottle of water and sitting at the table with you. He’s so focused on you that he doesn’t really take in his surroundings. If he did, what comes out of your mouth wouldn’t have almost shocked him into a heart attack.

“I tried calling you a couple times over the past few months, but every time I did, I got your assistant, or a P.A. or someone else. I left a message with my number with someone, but I’m assuming that you never got it, or you just didn’t care.”

He shakes his head almost violently. “I never got it. I don’t know who you gave it to, but it never got back to me.”

You lean back in your chair and take a deep breath.

“About a month after we broke up, I found out I was pregnant.”

Chris is pretty sure his heart stops beating for a few seconds, and then he realizes that he’s holding his breath. He lets it out in a deep exhale and his heart starts hammering in his rib cage.

“You.....we.......what?” he gasps.

“The doctor said I was 7 or 8 weeks at the time. I......I was due to get another shot but I had been so busy that I forgot about it, and.....well. At first, I wasn’t sure I was even going to keep the baby, honestly. We had just broken up and I didn’t know if you even wanted kids right now, or with me, and it took me a while to come to terms with everything. I tried calling you once I decided that I was going to keep it. I knew you had a right to know, even though I was pissed at you and hurt.”

I look over and Chris is just staring at me, gaping like a fish.

“So....you had a.....we have a.....” he takes a deep breath. “We have a baby?”

“Uh, well......I guess you must have some really strong sperm because we kind of.....have two.”

Chris looks like he’s about to pass out, and I shove his bottle of water towards him and he drains the rest of it in one go.

“Look, I don’t need anything from you. We’ll be okay. We’ve been staying here with my dad and he’s been helping out, and I’m getting help from the state. We never talked about having kids, and I know that this is just being dropped on you out of nowhere. If you want a paternity test, we can go today if you want. I’m not trying to trap you into anything or trick you. You have your own life and you’re.....well, you’re you. And I’m nobody. Nobody outside of your family and close friends even knew we were together.”

I know I’m rambling, but I’m nervous and I know I should just stop and let things sink in. We sit there in silence for a while, and I can tell that Chris’ brain is working to try and digest all of the new information and the fact that he’s a father twice over now. I need to do something to keep myself busy, because I can’t keep just sitting there in silence, so I go over to the sink and start washing dishes.

Chris gets snapped out of his reverie when he hears a sharp cry ring out. He looks around wildly before realizing that it’s coming from a baby monitor on the kitchen counter. You drop the dish your holding in the soapy water and wipe your hands on a dish towel before turning and running upstairs.

Chris isn’t even really sure he realizes that his feet are even moving before he finds himself upstairs in the doorway of the nursery. He stands there, feeling like his head is disconnected from the rest of his body, watching as you lean over the crib and lift out an impossibly tiny baby who can’t be more than a month old.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” you whisper, holding the baby against your chest. You turn around and see Chris standing there in the doorway, still looking shocked out of his skin.

“Come here.” you say softly, beckoning him over.

He walks over to the crib slowly, his eyes on the infant in your arms and then on the one still sleeping.

“This is Steven Lucas Evans” you say softly, kissing the baby you’re holding on the forehead, “and that is Christopher Michael Evans.”

Tears immediately fill his eyes and he inhales deeply, his breath stuttering.

“How old are they?”

“Three weeks and two days.” you tell him.

Chris can’t keep his eyes from drifting in between his two sons, and not wanting to be left out, his namesake wakes up and starts making soft little noises.

“Go ahead. Pick him up.” you tell him softly.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You nod.

Chris leans over the crib and gently lifts Christopher out, holding him gently against his chest. He’s soft and perfect and has that amazing baby smell that drives people nuts, and Chris feels like his heart is about to explode. He walks a few steps over to you and gazes down at his other son, taking note of both babies’ bright blue eyes.

“How can you love someone so much you’ve just met?” he breathes.

You give a small, watery laugh. “I ask myself that every day.”

Watching Chris with his baby sons is everything you didn’t know you needed. You told yourself that even if Chris didn’t want to be involved, you would get through it and you would be fine. But seeing him sitting in the cushy armchair in the nursery with a baby in each arm is more than you could have hoped for.

“Tell me about when they were born.” Chris pleads.

“I went into labor on the 23rd of last month, but they weren’t born until about 6pm the next night. I was in labor for about 20 hours. The doctor wanted to go in and get them, but I knew they’d come on their own time. Christopher was born first, and then 15 minutes later, Stevie showed up. He was screaming before he was even fully out.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I could have seen it.”

“You still can.”

You pull up a few videos on your phone from different stages of your labor, and one of Christopher being born and then Steven coming along. Tears are running down Chris’ face as he watches, and he’s laughing and crying at the same time, completely overwhelmed with emotion. You flip through a ton of pictures on your phone of you through the pregnancy, and then of labor, and the first pictures of you and the babies.

“Can you sent these to me? Just....everything you have?” he asks.

“Yeah. Not a problem.”

After making bottles and feeding one while Chris feeds the other, a double diaper change, and laying them back down in the crib, you both sit back down.

“You didn’t get two cribs?” Chris asks.

“No. I couldn’t really afford two, and when we were in the hospital, they would cry if they weren’t near each other, so the nurses just put them both in the same bassinet and they would calm down. So it all worked out.” I tell him.

“Come back to Massachusetts with me.” he blurts out.

He says it so suddenly and with such conviction that I’m speechless for a minute.

“Chris.....”

“No, just please.....I love you. I love you and I was an idiot and you had every right to leave me. But being without you has been hell, and I don’t want to be without you. And I can’t go back and not have you or them there with me. I want to be there for everything. I want to see everything. I won’t let you do everything on your own. You don’t have to struggle and get state aid. You can move in with me, or I can get you an apartment close by........just......please come home with me.”

“Chris, slow down. Listen, you’re their father. You can have as much access to them as you want. I’m not going to take them away from you or keep you from seeing them. That’s the last thing I want. But moving back to Boston......I don’t even have a job right now. I’ve been doing freelance articles for the last few months to get by. And we have all this stuff....and there’s furniture and......”

“You can write from anywhere. You’re so talented; you’ll find a job in no time. I promise. Until then, I can take care of you guys. That’s my job now. As for all the stuff, I can get a UHaul trailer and we can drive back. Or I’ll get a moving company to move it and we can fly back. It doesn’t matter. We can make this work.”

I can see the desperation in his eyes and how badly he wants this, and it’s enough to break my heart, and I don’t have it in me to tell him no.

I sigh heavily. “We have a lot to work out and talk about.....but I don’t want you to miss out on anything with the boys. So.......I guess we’re taking a road trip.....with two infants........halfway across the country.”

Chris grabs me and hugs me to him tightly.

“It’ll be our first family vacation. I can’t wait for Mom to meet them. She’s going to lose her mind over them. And you.....she’s missed you so much. You have no idea the verbal ass kicking I got from her after you left.”

You smile. “Glad to know that a grown man is still afraid of his mommy.”

The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @southerngracela @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo @harrysthiccthighss @jessaywahh-blog@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe @pandaxnienke @redhairedfeistynerd @hails270105 @syms-things-5 @chezdricks @denisemarieangelina @christ0pher-evans @supersquirrel1996

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #rpf #daddy chris #babies #twins #twin boys #fluff #need some fluffy stuff to balance out the angst #cute #family

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: [email protected]

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

#the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #txf #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

man’s world ~ harley quinn;birds of prey

word count: 1965

request?: no

description: every bad guy in town is after harley quinn after the announcement of her breakup with the joker, but harley is about to make a very powerful friend to have on her side

pairing: harley quinn x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of murder

masterlist

There was no need in counting the money given to me. I could tell by the size of the tack that it wasn’t enough. “You stiffed me again.”

Roman rolled his eyes at me. “I told you I’d pay for a clean kill, that wasn’t a clean kill. You’re lucky I paid you at all.”

“What do you mean? How can a kill be any cleaner than arsenic poisoning? I even framed that chemist guy that had a grudge against the target, it’ll never be traced back to you.”

“Sorry, did I say clean? I meant I wanted a messy murder. Your plan was smart, but I love the theatrics of it all. Next time, I want a show.”

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. I really wished I could find a new employer. Roma was the absolute worst boss. He was an asshole misogynist that overworked and underpaid me. But he had a lot of leverage on me, what with me being his hitwoman and all, so until I could find a new employer, I was basically bound to Roman.

“Wait!” Roman said. I sighed and turned back to look at him. “I do have a pretty big job for you. If you do this, I promise you I will pay you in full. A large sum, too.”

“I’ve heard that before, Roman,” I said and turned to walk away again.

He stood from his desk and quickly approached me, grabbing my arm to stop me. I raised an eyebrow and yanked my arm away. Most people were too afraid of Roman to behave like this around him. However, most people weren’t his hitwoman, meaning they didn’t have the dirt on him that I did.

It was a balanced relationship we had, whether Roman wanted to admit it or not.

“I mean it, (Y/N),” he said. “This is a big job. If you do this, I will pay you double, no triple the original price of this hit.”

I should’ve walked away, I could’ve walked away. Roman wouldn’t stop me if I did. But I couldn’t lie, the money sounded good - if Roman actually gave me what he was promising this time.

I sighed and motioned with a hand for Roman to go on. He smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Do you know who Harley Quinn is?”

~~~~~~

It didn’t take long to find where Harley Quinn decided to live after the Joker kicked her to the curb. It was severely under protected, unless you classified a sweet Asian man as “protection”.

He tried to stop me as I made my way to Harley’s apartment. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of Harley’s from Arkham Asylum,” I responded. “I wanted to surprise her, I just got out.”

“She’s not home right now.”

“Even better! It’ll be a big surprise!”

I hurried away before he said anything else. I knew he’d be suspicious, but I trusted him to not tell Harley I was there.

I picked her lock and let myself in. The moment I stepped into her apartment, her pet hyena sat up at attention, assessing the stranger that had just entered his home. I pulled the hamburger I had bought from the bag in my hand and offered it to the hyena. He raced over and excitedly gobbled down the food.

I knelt down to pet his coarse fur. “Good boy. I’ll take you in when I finish with this job.”

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait for her long. Shortly after my arrival, the sound of the doorknob turning alerted myself and her hyena that she was back. I pointed the gun as the door swung open. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hello Harleen.”

Roman’s words - “I want a messy kill” - echoed through my head as I pulled the trigger. Harley quickly jumped to the side, just narrowly avoiding my bullet. She dove behind her couch and I continued to shoot bullets into it, causing feathers and fluff to fly into the air. Harley’s hyena let out a laugh-like bark that was drowned out by my gunshots. When my clip was empty, I quickly changed it to a full one.

Knowing that the gunshots would’ve alerted Harley’s landlord, I quickly crossed the room to her open door and closed it, locking the door and even breaking the knob a little for good measures. I wasn’t going to let this job bust, not with so much money on the line.

“Look, whatever Mista J did to you, I’m sorry!” Harley called from somewhere in the room. “Haven’t ya done your research? He brainwashed me! I only did what he said cause I thought I loved him!”

“Joker never did anything to me,” I told her. “I’m just here on someone else’s behalf.”

“That’s a long list to narrow down,” she responded. “Mind giving me a hint? Maybe an initial?”

I traced her voice to a desk that was turned to face me. This wouldn’t have normally been suspicious, if it weren’t for the fact that the desk was pushed right up against a wall, rendering it technically useless. In the small slit between the bottom of the desk and the floor, I could see Harley’s colorful shoes peaking out.

“Actually, I have a message from him,” I said. “Roman says ‘Good Riddence.”

She must’ve known I had found her, as, just before I pulled the trigger, Harley jumped up from under the desk, successfully launching it at me. The sudden movement startled me enough that my shot lodged itself in the ceiling instead of in her head.

“Oh, Romy!” Harley exclaimed. “Couldn’t even be bothered to come kill me himself? What hurts!”

She dove behind another plush chair as I took another shot at her. I exclaimed in frustration and went to approach the chair. Before getting close enough, Harley raised her hand, which was now holding the white t-shirt she had arrived in.

“Truce!” she called. “Just for one minute, give me a truce. And then you can decide if you want to continue with your killing. I won’t stop you, you ain’t the first to try and off me today.”

Against my better judgement, I sighed and shoved my gun back into the waistband of my pants. “You have five minutes to say your piece, Quinn. I have a lot of money on the line here.”

She popped up from behind the chair like a Whack-A-Mole. She was now in a plush, pink sports bra, her suspenders pulled over it now instead of the white t-shirt she was holding in her hand.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to cash in on a good paycheck,” she said. “I wanted to get a look at ya for a minute. You know, without the bullets and whatnot obstructing my view. I wanted to see if I recognized ya.”

“Why would you recognize me?”

“I frequent Romy’s club a lot. I think he only tolerated me because of Mista J, which would explain why he sent a hitwoman after me when I announced our breakup,” she explained. “You do look familiar. Do you frequent the club, too?”

“I don’t tend to talk with Roman about business in public. It’s not exactly the smartest move.”

“I suppose not, but I’m sure I’ve seen your face there before.” She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Oh! I know! You were there the last time I was! I broke a dude’s legs and you were talking to Romy at the time!”

Oh wait, she’s right. I was there that night.

I could remember well: I had just finished a job. Roman had called me to his club for my payment. I guess he knew I wouldn’t lash out in front of all those witnesses when he stiffed me again. I was furious when he handed me less than half of what he had promised. That job had almost gotten me killed, but he viewed that as a failure. He told me he was debating not paying me at all, but knew I’d walk if that was the case.

His smug as smile as he walked away still infuriated me to that day. I wished I had punched him right in his stupid fucking face, made a scene in his club and announced to the world that Roman Sionis had hired a killer to take down the people he didn’t like. I’d go to prison if it meant Roman went with me.

“Man, you were angry,” Harley said, leaning her arms against the chair and resting her head in one of her hands. “What were ya talking about? Did a hit go wrong or something?”

“Nearly,” I responded, looking away from Harley so she wouldn’t see my anger again. “Listen, I gave you five minutes and they’re almost up, so maybe you should - ”

“He stiffed ya, didn’t he?” Harley cut me off. “I bet he does that a lot. He doesn’t exactly treat his female employees all that nicely. You heard the stories from that singer he has? The Canary? I can’t believe she quit working for him and made it out alive.”

She almost hadn’t. I had to save her ass from Roman that night. It was the night I almost walked out, too. The first time, anyways.

“He’s a misogynistic prick,” Harley hissed. “Thinks women are objects that should be beneath him. I don’t know why you let him treat you like dirt when you do all the dirty work for him. You should be the one stiffin’ him for cash!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I told her. “Being the killer for hire for Roman Sionis, he has too much dirt on me. If I tried to leave, or if I did anything he didn’t like, he could ruin my life in a second. I’m stuck with him until I can know for sure that I’m safe.”

“How do you know you wouldn’t be safe with me?”

I scoffed at her question. “You’re wanted by everybody - every villain, every hero, and every regular pedestrian. You don’t have the Joker to protect you right now. You’re a walking target, being with you is the unsafest place to be.”

“Safer than with Roman Sionis,” she said. “Sure, I can’t pay you top dollar for killin’, but I like to get my hands bloody myself. I ain’t here for this hitman/hitwoman shit. You and I, we could do some serious damage together.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her proposal. Even if it would land me in a world of danger, working with Harley Quinn was a lot better than having to work for Roman Sionis anymore.

“The two of us alone, no matter how powerful or how...psychotic, are not enough to go up against Roman,” I told her.

Harley smiled brightly, knowing that what I was saying was technically an acceptance to her invitation. “Way ahead of you sister! I’ve already recruited Romy’s ex-Canary, and that legendary Crossbow Killer. We’re puttin’ together our own little girl gang.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Sounds like you were prepared for this.”

“Let’s just say, you’re not the first person Romy has sent after me.”

I had a feeling there was a reason Roman didn’t warn me about the first person sent after Harley Quinn.

She approached me and threw an arm over my shoulder, as if we were magically best friends. I looked at her close proximity before looking back up at her smiling face. “I could kill you right now, you know.”

“I know, but you won’t,” she said. “We’re best friends now, and we’re gonna take down Roman Sionis together.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her as she said this.

#Harley Quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn imagine #margot robbie #margot robbie imagine #margot robbie x reader #birds of prey #the emanciption of harley quinn #suicide squad #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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boom-bakugou · 4 years

Text

‘The Three Times’ — Keigo Takami (Hawks)

A/N: had this one on my mind for a while, hope it made you as sad as it made me

Pairings: Hawks x GN!Reader

Warnings: angst, slight smutty themes, mentions of blood, slight stalker Hawks

Summary: There were 3 times each when you and Hawks really thought of each other after your breakup.

Word Count: 3.4k

masterlist requests are open <3

The first time Hawks thought of you was 6 months after your relationship ended. His fingers brushed tightly through some random person’s hair as their kiss became ragged. Spurred on by alcohol and their combined sex drive. But as they stumbled up to his apartment, lips locked together as if the alcohol called for it. Something just- didn’t feel right. He couldn’t understand if it was the multiple drinks that they had but he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

Yet as he lay over them on his bed, readying himself to take off their clothes. Hawks stopped himself. His eyes glazing over the person beneath his body.

“I’m really sorry I can’t do this uh-“ Hawks’ usual cocky demeanour dissipated. “I think I’m too drunk.”

But his mind was completely sober. His near fuck-buddy annoyed at the disappointment gathered their scattered items and made their way out of the apartment complex with pity money for a cab from Hawks as an apology.

Plagued by his own mind, he couldn’t think of why he couldn’t follow through with it, stripping himself to go to bed as if stripping back layers of himself to figure out his troubles. Before he pinpointed it. The person beneath him wasn’t you. Laying on his king size bed he couldn’t help but still catch the smell of you on the other side, not daring to touch it since you had both ended things.

Why couldn’t he bring himself to sleep there? Even if he awoke in the middle of the night and was the slightest bit too far over on the other side he’d always move. Why couldn’t he bring himself to sleep with someone else in your bed? No, it was his bed; no one else lived with him. Why did he still reach out only to be met with cold covers?

It wasn’t that serious. He told himself. Yes you two had fun, were intimate, became each other’s best friend but it was better to be apart. Hawks knew he was holding you back and the pressure of keeping a partner and being a pro-hero at a tumultuous time wasn’t a good plan.

He hadn’t even realised the shirt that he’d put on to wear to bed that night was one of your favourites on him. Always saying it was the comfiest to lie on. You promised that’d be the one shirt you’d never steal because you preferred it on him. Hawks couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, out loud, in his empty bedroom, looking at how your side of the bed still had traces of the way that you slept.

The first time you thought of him was 8 months after your relationship ended. At your agency, you watched him on the tv in your office as he was part of an interview. You didn’t even notice it was him at first, flicking through paperwork. You didn’t notice the interviewers announce his name or the cadence of his voice. It wasn’t until you heard your own name that your eyes were soon glued to the flat screen.

“So how do you feel about Y/N and their new agency? It must be nice to see your ex-sidekick flourish and make their way up and up the hero charts!” The host didn’t mean any malice from it, but you could see the shock and hurt in his eyes hidden behind his signature smile.

No one knew, no one even at his old agency knew about the two of you secretly dating. But the two of you knew about how work and relationships didn’t particularly coincide. Hawks chuckled, before he began his sentence. The inner cogs turning within him plastered on his face, his charming features that you knew so well.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m happy for the kid. Wish we kept in contact more often though.”

He did not want to talk about it. It had hurt you both for it to end it, but you were holding each other back right? You didn’t want to be a side-kick forever, and heroes dating got messy. Tabloids plastered with paparazzi photos. You didn’t want your image ruined before you’d even begun.

“You don’t keep in contact that often? But you two were so close!” The host’s voice was cheerful, trying to keep the smooth pace of the interview going as it had moments prior. Hawks was made for TV, loved by many. Seeing this talk-show was stuttering, you’d never seen him so quietly distraught on camera.

“Just hero work I guess. Keeps everyone busy!” He retorts playfully which makes the crowd laugh, and you yourself can’t help but crack a smile. He could work the camera like magic, but you couldn’t help but see the cut where his face turned into a solemn frown. He was so civil about the breakup. He couldn’t miss you now of all times right?

The TV had cut to an ad-break and you busy yourself with paperwork again. You didn’t really want to think about him, the caress of his fingers, the way his morning voice said your name in his own cadence, the breakfasts he’d make for you the times you’d stayed at his apartment.

No. No more Keigo. So you plunged yourself back into your paperwork and lost all thought of your ex-lover.

The second time Hawks thought of you was a year after your relationship ended. Days off never came to him easily, but craving a sense of normalcy at least for one day was allowed. Stopping by his favourite coffee shop was the easiest way to feel normal for him, order the same drink, sit in the same window seat and people watch. Except today, someone was in his seat.

Taking a chair a few spaces down from the girl at the window table, it took him a few moments to recognise her before placing two and two together.

“Hey you’re uh- Y/N’s sidekick right?” Hawks asks, the girl turns her head to him before looking at him in shock, almost spitting out her drink and spilling the other cup that she had with her.

“Uh- y-yes uhm and you’re Hawks oh god hello-.” She stuttered, he reached his hand over to let her shake it which she happily obliged.

“So, how’s it working at big pro hero Y/N’s agency?” Hawks sipped at his coffee, preparing to hear about all he’s missed out on- well, avoided. Her demeanour almost reminded him of you when you just started, a big fan of his looking to do more and be better for the better of everyone around you. She took a sip of her own drink, trying to compose herself before she formulated an answer.

“It’s a dream come true! I’ve been a big fan of Y/N ever since they were at your agency.” She smiles. My agency, he thought. Seems like eons ago.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of stories from them.” Hawks chuckles, before looking he noticed her rather solemn expression. Her eyes drifting down from his to look at the coffee lip over the opening of her disposable cup.

“Not really, they don't talk much about the old agency which is upsetting- I’d really like to know what it was like!” She was so enthusiastic, so bright. Just like you when you’d become his sidekick. He hoped that he hadn’t ruined that spark when you left the agency. Taking his eyes back to the second cup, his heart sank a little before directing his attention to your sidekick; trying his best to keep his savvy cool aura around him.

“Are you two out on patrol today?” He tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, not to seem prying. He hadn’t heard anything about you really for little over a year, why didn't you two keep in contact? It wasn’t like you agreed never to speak to one another again.

“Yeah! But we have an hour before we start so they’re meeting me here and got me to grab them their favourite before we head off.” She gestured to the other cup that sat next to her own. “They’ll only be a few minutes, do you wanna stay and talk to them?”

The tone in her voice was that of an excitable fan girl although she did her best to tone it down. Hawks’ mind raced at the thought, seeing you now; not just as he flicked over TV channels and newspaper articles on his phone. Or even how his favourite coffee place that he used to take you to was now your favourite, and you hadn’t bumped into each other here once.

“I gotta get running, I have some errands to do.” Hawks picked up his cup and went to walk off before adding. “Tell the kid… I hope they’re doing good.”

And with that he was off, sitting atop the rooftop next to the cafe, awaiting you to walk inside. He only got a brief glimpse and you didn't notice his presence but, after a few moments he saw you return outside. Hiding behind the lip of the roof so you couldn’t see behind, Hawks saw you lift your head up. Your hand shielding your eyes as you looked to the sky for him. When you had no avail you headed back inside to enjoy the rest of your break.

They wanted to see me. He mused.

The second time you thought of him was a year and a half after your relationship ended. The deafening sounds of plates smashing as your then boyfriend threw them about. Anger poisoning your veins.

“It’s not my fault that I get called away for work!” You seethed. Trying your best to not follow suit with him, your feet kicking away shards. You see him lift another mug, using your arms to shield your face as it shatters to the ground. It was one of your favourites, but you never remembered why.

“God you act like you’re all high and mighty that you’re a hero and that you save lives every day.” His hands bled from fractures slicing back up into his skin, collateral damage. You looked at the man you once loved, his face contorted with jealous vexation.

“I am not high and mighty! I just believe in what I do! There’s a difference between the two, dipshit!” You couldn’t even work like a hero right now with him, not being able to help but only bite back. You tried your best to make your way in between the cupboard full of the rest of your dining-ware before he smashed anything else.

“HAH you’re so full of yourself, you’re like that dumb hero you used to work for… Hawks is it?” The name caught you by surprise, like ice being pressed to the back of your neck. It was as if a ghost had left his lips. “Just as fucking arrogant and cocky as that cocksucker on tv,”

“Get out.” You mutter, your eyes surveying the mess on the floor. The pieces of broken china looked like islands among a wooden sea, a beautiful nonsensical mess.

“What?”

“You heard what I said, now get out!” Your eyes shot back up to him, filled with absolute malice. The timbre of your voice elevated as your shoes stood on pieces of the plates, cracking beneath your heavy stomp.

He hurried his way out, not another word leaving his lips. The slam of the door didn’t even make you jump. You didn’t know what to feel. Shuffling debris from beneath you with your feet, you kneel on the hardwood floor of your kitchen. Digging away at what had been lost during the fight. Some were little things like plates you found at antique stores or ones that had a chip in it after you’d opened the cupboard door to quickly. Yet one stood out to you.

In a pool of shattered red pieces was where your favourite cup had been rendered to smithereens. Taking each piece, you tried your best to regain your memory of why it meant so much to you. Until it hit. The day you got the mug was the day that Hawks had first kissed you. After a tricky situation involving a villain and a ceramics shop. He and you had been on a few dates prior to the mission, and after all was said and done the owner of the shop gave it to Hawks who then bestowed it to you, before pressing his lips to yours.

Rummaging your way through the pieces trying best not to cut yourself, you find that the bottom of the cup had been split into two, reuniting the pieces you see the faint ‘Hawks x’ painted on the bottom. It had worn away with time but you still saw it. His distinct handwriting, it always looked different when he wore his gloves which must’ve been how he’d written it then. It was a shame you’d have to get rid of it now.

The third time Hawks thought of you was 4 years after your relationship ended. How could he have missed it. It was all every newspaper wrote about, all every television talk show chattered on to their audiences to, every social media post upon his dashboard.

You were getting married.

Hawks balled his fists in frustration, the leather of his gloves creating a shrill noise which only fuelled his sadness. But why was he upset in the first place? He hadn’t seen you properly in the flesh for at least 4 years now, not heard you breathlessly say his name as you clung to his sheets, not heard you hum songs in his shower as you got ready for the morning, not smelt your sweet aroma that made him feel like home.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it was all some crazy possessive idealisation that his mind had come up with just because it could. But his throat couldn’t help but go sour as he thought of you in another person’s arms. No one had really made him feel like everything was right, not those half excuses for a relationship he’s had over the past few years, not the one night stands nor the dates his friends tried to set him up. Nothing was as perfect as you were.

You were everything, the moon and it’s pull, the stars and their shine. And what did he do? Throw it away because he was scared and he’d convinced you that it’d be better for you too. How could he be so stupid? How could he have everything in the palm of his hand and let it slip away. He had to see you, just once. Before he could never have you again.

Taking flight in the pitch black, Hawks did his best to research where you were living now. Not in that old cozy place you once had, you were a pro-hero now, able to buy yourself way better. Settling himself on a rooftop near the new and improved apartment complex you lived in, Hawks kept an eye for any movement before he saw you in your window.

You looked as beautiful as the day he met you, clad in only some shorts and a T-shirt, you sipped out of a mug. Watching the bustling city below you. When the hot substance steamed up the window you’d wipe it off, allowing yourself to have the perfect view of the streets. The way the city lights lit you up made his heart swell, everything about you was utterly perfect. He only wished that you were drinking out of that old mug that he had given you all those years ago.

Taking him out of his trance were two strong arms wrapping around you, frightening you momentarily. You looked shocked, nearly dropping the cup. Hawks stood on the ledge of the building, flaring his wings as he prepared himself to jump into action. Yet you turned around and giggled, placing your lips upon your soon to be husband. He recognised their face and blonde hair- another hero. But it’d been years since Hawks last cared about the hero listings. He couldn’t even tell the hero’s name.

His heart sank as you placed the mug down on the window sill, wrapping your arms around your fiancé and dancing around the living room together. Hawks could hear the soft music playing in the background, the man spinning you around. Watching as your hair danced through the twirl with you, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to run his fingers through it. Waking up to it tickling his nose, pushing it out of your face behind your ear; he missed the little things.

Opening his eyes again, he was met with the curtains shut. The final goodbye. He stood himself up properly, not worrying about being spotted before taking out his phone and searching for local shops that open earliest in the morning.

The third time you thought of Hawks was 4 years after your relationship ended. Your engagement ring dazzled in the fluorescent lights of your office, you couldn’t help but stare at it. It had taken so many years to find the one but you finally had it, being successful in your career and your love life. Everything was falling exactly into place. Before you could admire your finger any longer there was a knock at your door.

“Hello Y/N? These were delivered for you.” Your secretary brings a tied gift bag and leaves it on your desk, quickly scurrying out as she always had a mountain of workload to do.

You looked at the decorative paper carefully. You knew it couldn’t be anything inconspicuous as all deliveries into hero agencies had to go through rigorous testing before even being allowed into the building. You assumed it was something you might’ve ordered a while back that had finally arrived so you delicately began to peel back the tissue paper.

Beneath was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in a quaint but beautiful small vase. Amongst the sea of flowers was a card held by a stick which you plucked out to read, expecting something from your soon-to-be spouse.

It’s always gonna be you kid. - Hawks x

You swear your heartbeat stopped, retaking your seat at your desk. You reread the simplistic words on the card over and over as if they’re gospel and you can’t help but feel the pang of tears in your eyes and in the back of your throat. Placing it upon your desk you shut your eyes, you hadn’t thought about your feelings for your old boss in years. It sounds so silly, but maybe he buried feelings too. But that was long gone. You had moved on, you were happy. You were settling. Settling.

Still, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and reached beneath a couple of old files to bring out an old memory. The bottom of an old mug glued back together so you could once again read the inscription of Hawks’ name.

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hushedhands · 3 years

Text

Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

#challenge #Astra and Andrew Challenge #RIP your dashes if the Keep Reading doesn't work #its almost 16000 words long #one for every tear I cried breaking Andrew's heart

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