#she's my dad's and i live with my mum across the country ! but he came to drop smth off and i got to meet the baby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wizkiddx · 3 years

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ruining the plan isn't always so bad

you can tell whenever I have really important things to be doing in my life - bcos instead I will spend hours writing for no apparent reason ah kmn ;///

tomhollandxreader - pure fluffffff

Summary: tried to base off when Dom and Sam surprised Tom shooting a couple of years back- but this time they got Y/n with them too

(I don't own the pic nor claim to ...idk how to do this crediting bit sorry :/)

The plan was in place. Tom was really struggling with homesickness on set of his newest film. No real reason why; just long hours, living out of a hotel room, half the world away from ‘home’. Harry was always flying out to join Tom as his ‘assistant’ however after a pretty heart-wrenching phone call Tom had made to Y/n, while she was hanging around with Haz and Harry at the Holland’s house... the plans had changed somewhat. He just seemed so distant and run down, when Nikki got her turn on the phone she instantly knew that they had to do something. Naturally then, putting her superior organising skills to good use she arranged for Dom, Sam and Y/n to accompany Harry to Atlanta; and surprise Tom there.

The way the last minute booking happened meant that Harry, Sam and Dom were all flying out on the same flight (though Harry was in first class, while the surprise guests were in economy). Y/n, because of her university timetable, couldn’t leave till a bit later, so was on a plane 2 hours after the Hollands - it wouldn’t make that much difference and if anything would prolong the joy of the excitement for Tom. They, meaning Harry who was oddly invested in the intracacies and details, had been brainstorming different ways to do the reveal- not sure whether to just do it in the hotel when Harry would be meeting Tom anyway, or waiting and surprising him when they were out for dinner or in a bar. Eventually they’d decided it would just be easier to have Harry, Dom and Sam just meet him at the hotel- then take him out to dinner, allowing time for Y/n’s later expected time of arrival, where she would then appear at the restaurant.

Ever since Harry had let Tom know that he’d landed (if half an hour late), Tom had been excitedly texting him back constantly. The pair had agreed that Tom would simply meet him in Harrys hotel room when he got back from set. Yet when the time came, Sam and Dom were hiding just further down the corridor- waiting in the corridor. From their hideaway a couple of metres down the way from Tom and Harry, the obvious exctiement they could hear when Tom arrived and the two reunited warmed Dom’s heart. He just loved his sons all being so close- it was perhaps what he was most proud of as a parent. Especially after witnessing both Harrison and Y/n loose a parent, he knew if god forbid anything happened to him and Nikki - they had each others backs completely. Sam was excitedly shifting from foot to foot hearing his brothers - Dom just subtly shook his head at the endearing nervous energy, clearly Sam was impatient for his turn. The idea was Sam would knock first then Dom, so after allowing a short time of just Tom and Harry reuniting, Sam pranced down the hallway and knocked. Yet it wasn’t Tom who flung the door open to Sam as per the scheme, instead his fuzzy haired twin.

“Harry what the fuck” Sam mouthed, daring to glance over his shoulder to attempt to spot Tom - annoyed at his brother for getting in the way.

“He’s on the shitter, change of plan bring Dad in.” Harry whisper-explained, making Sam roll his eyes at Tom unintentionally ruining his own surprise, before retreating to the hallway and beckoning his dad in. Dom pulled an equally bemused face until Harry filled him and he chuckled - earning him a harsh shush from both boys as they sat on the bed, facing the toilet door.

“So why did it take you so long to get here?” Tom asked through the thin loo wall, while Harry pushed his dad to sit further over on the bed.

“Oh ermm….they had some mix up with the luggage so we” Immediately getting slapped on the leg by his twin with a piercing glare, Harry corrected himself “I mean -I had to wait for like an hour and a half to get my suitcase. Then I think I had the worst taxi driver in the world like down country roads and all.”

“Yeh like that drive should take like 40 minutes I thought? But when you texted me saying just left” He paused as the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink turning on flooded through the room ”that must’ve been at least an hour ago”

“I guess” Harry replied, hearing the tap turn off while Sam ran his fingers through his hair yet again - an excited or nervous tick.

“So how is everyone? I tried to call Dad and Y/n today but-“ The door opened, the stream of light flooding into the main room. Tom stopped dead in his tracks, voice cutting off but mouth hanging agape, still clutching onto the doorhandle.

“Hello son”

Dom spoke softly as he stood up from his choreographed position on the bed. Only at his words did Tom believe this was actually reality and literally sunk to his knees at the boundary between the ensuite and bedroom. He was awash with pure emotion, mainly relief - this was the exact thing he really needed right now. His dad soon pulled him up and hugged him, Sam following close behind. Tom’s reaction was priceless, the few tears being more than enough of a tell to his family how much he had needed this.

It was an emotional reunion, there was a hell of a lot of hugs and suddenly the 14 hour journey was so worth it to Dom and Sam. Afterwards, they just all sat together on the bed and caught up on each others lives, Tom not really wanting to speak about himself - much preferring to hear all their stories from home about his mum and grandparents and the family that live down the road. He loved the normalcy of it.

That was until a voice grabbed the attention of the whole room and Harry inwardly and silently cursed himself - in all the excitement he’d left his phone on silent in his jacket pocket, which was hanging on the coat rack so he hadn’t even heard it vibrate.

“Harry pick up your phone!” An exasperated voice exclaiming from the hallway half caught the Hollands’ attention, their heads all spinning in unison to the wooden hotel room door. It started to jerk open as Y/n wrestled with her suitcase ”You’ve left your hotel room open you div.Anyway I’m just dropping my case in your room so please text me where to go because - ugh- because right now you could all be anywhere in Atlanta and I-”

The conversation within the room had died- all of them watching the petite brunette fight her way past the door with a silver suitcase that seemed ridiculously large and heavy for a weeks holiday. She had pressed her phone to her ear using her right shoulder and was wearing beige tracksuits a white crop top and a black leather jacket - as she grunted in frustration at the case, yanking it unceremoniously over the threshold. Subtly, Sam looked up at Tom, seeing his brothers eyes widen in shock, whole body turned completely rigid and Sam had to smile smugly - it was actually quite cute, even if he would never admit it to their faces. Y/n only stopped speaking into the receiver when her eyes finally darted into the room - noticing she had an audience.

“Oh.”

She stopped herself, pressing the end call button and pocketing her phone, whilst moving into the centre of the room. She shot an apologetic smile to Harry, knowing she’d technically ‘ruined’ his plan - though to be fair it wasn’t her fault he didn’t answer the phone; or that his flight had been delayed meaning he didn’t get Tom to the resturaunt at the agreed time. Actually she could blame it all on Harry. He just rolled his eyes back at her whilst she looked past him and onto the shellshocked face of her boyfriend.

Not being able to hide her grin, she halted at the foot of the bed, meanwhile Tom leant forward from the headboard - his eyes not leaving her. “You gonna say hi or am I just gonna stand here?” Y/n smirked, Tom still not moving from his shellshocked stance. Slowly her smirk morphed to a concerned look, eyebrows drawn inwards, as her look darted between Dom and Tom.

“Tom are you okay?” she tried speaking gently, but before she could push anymore he launched himself off the sofa and into her arms, Y/n barely staying upright. Then Tom started spinning her round and round all the while squeezing her as tightly as possible. Y/n squealed an ‘I love you’ into his ear , already knowing Tom wasn’t ready to talk yet- instead just pressing his face closer into her neck. After a short while Tom lowered her to the ground and pulled away enough for Y/n to see the smudged tears around his eyes. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and looked deep into his mahogany brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now” he nodded jerkily, all the while inching his lips closer to hers. Both consciously aware of half the Hollands just viewing them, their kiss was fleeting and light - but made Tom’s heart want to burst.

“God I’ve missed your stupid face” She laughed, now her eyes filled with tears too. He let out a breathy chuckle in reply and used his thumb to wipe away a single droplet that escaped her eye.

“Missed yours more” her smile lit up the entirety of her face, such a natural glow across her face Tom shook his head slightly marvelling at her.

“Ohhkkkayyy well I don’t really want to witness the making of nieces and nephews”

“Harry” Dom warned in a disapproving tone, even if he did have to fight back the laughter. To be quite honest he’d really enjoyed seeing his son and almost adopted daughter reunite. Both him and Nikki absolutely loved their relationship, they just went together oh so well, whilst slightly reminding them both of their younger carefree days. Harry rolled his eyes at his dad before continuing.

“But shall we get dinner and then you can be alone all night” His eyebrows wiggled in such a manner Y/n swore she felt a little nauseous witnessing it.

“Harry stop!” Sam interjected, elbowing Harry harshly in the side, earning him a playful slap in return.

“Someone remind me why I’m paying the wrong twin to be my assistant?” Tom still hadn’t looked away from Y/n as he quipped a response at Harry, while Y/n was gently stroking up and down his cheeks with such a soft look in her eyes.

“Because I rejected it” Sam smirked, making Harry yell out in anguish-

“I was second choice?!?!”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Honestly just go play golf with your them! I have to do uni work anyway and-“

“But I don’t want to leave you! You’ve flown here too and I missed you.” Tom moaned, pressing a kiss into her hair from her position lying on his shoulder. Having slept uninterrupted for the first time in ages, Tom wasn’t even sure he wanted to venture away from Y/n and the bed at any point that day- even if it was for golf.

“Your dad and Sam are only staying for the weekend so make the most of it! Me and my uni work are happy here-“ Tom’s eyes once again bugged out his face, as he caught on to her slip up.

“How long are you staying?” Shit. That was another thing she’d spoiled - getting a reputation to be as bad as Tom. Harry was for sure going to kill her.

“Oh fuck sake… that was my second surprise ruined… I’ve booked a week and a half off from uni so I can look after my little baby boy”

“Y/n don’t joke with me please.” Tom sat up, forcing Y/n to too which she huffed a little at, disrupting her comfort. It had her sitting up straight so she could look him in the eye and resting her hand on his exposed abdomen, asserting her authority on him.

“I promise! My flights home next tuesday, but I’m missing uni so I have to be boring and keep up so it’s not a real holiday but-“

“I love you”

Tom smiled for Y/n could never not surprise him. University was so important to her - she was really dedicating her life to it, especially financially. So her managing to put it on hold to look after him in a time of need was testament to just how kind and caring she truly was.

“But you need to promise to look after yourself Tom. I haven’t seen bags under your eyes quite as impressive as this before. Think of your poor make up artists!” And she was back to being her usual sarky self.

“I feel like I should be offended?”

“Or you can learn. Now go get showered before they leave without you.” Finally ralling off his side, then pushing him forcefully so he half rolled off the side of the bed.

“Only if you shower with me.” The biggest smirk on his face, eyes wide and gleaming with mischief - which Y/n wanted to punch off so badly. On the other hand though, his idea didn’t sound half bad- letting him drag her up too.

5 or so hours later, Y/n had written her assignment due in for next week and had submitted it online- making her feel pretty darn put together. She knew the boys had got back from the golf, and from the WhatsApp group Tom wasn’t very happy about his performance, so he was going to be moody. After closing her laptop triumphantly she chucked it in her bag and grabbed the spare key card and roamed the corridors of the hotel to find Sam and Dom’s room - where they all where. Tom had messaged her to let her know they were filming Dom’s podcast, so she had to be stealthy in her entrance - since to the public they were still just good friends. The secret still wasn’t ‘out’ so to speak.

They’d left the door on the latch, allowing Y/n carefully pushing it open without making any noise. Immediately the golf-related bickering met her ears, while she peeked her head round the corner of the door. The four had set up armchairs by the window, with the camera balanced on top of a table and a stack of suitcases - in order for Harry to get the ‘perfect’ shot. Silently chuckling at the precarious arrangement, Y/n slid in through the door, turning round to gently close it shut again without noise.

As soon as Tom had seen the door opening he had jumped out of his chair, walking up to Y/n and wrapping his arms round her- pulling her back into his chest off camera. Whispering a silently ‘I love you’ he grinned at the girl who was now arching to look into his eyes. She mirrored his sentiments, placing a bottle of water in his hand while pushing him back into frame.

In reality, the whole of this podcast Tom had been attempting to summon energy in his body that was just not present. Don’t be mistaken, he had thoroughly enjoyed the time with his dad and brothers- but simply he only had today and tomorrow off filming for another 2 weeks, and the plan had been to stay as close to his bed as possible before the surprise happened. In all honestly, he caught his eyes drooping numerous times while they were filming the podcast- feeling safe in the surrounding of his family, the exhaustion was finally catching up to him.

Y/n spent the rest of their podcast hidden behind the camera, doing some extra research on Sam’s double bed - yet sometimes having to stifle a chuckle at the boys filming. It was perhaps another 25/ 30 minutes before they finished, during which there was a hell of a lot of spoilers that they only realised too late could not be included. She really really did try to focus on her work, yet instead she found her eyes being drawn to her boyfriend. He still looked shattered. All she really wanted to do was wrap him in a thick duvet and cuddle into his side. She even promised herself to only find his occasional snores endearing tonight, which was something she often struggled with normally.

So when the camera was clicked off, Y/n spent a short amount of time chatting with all the Hollands, before suggesting they went to their own respective rooms before dinner. Unconsciously, when Y/n had suggested it, out of pure relief, Tom leaned almost all his weight against her side - anchored by the strong clasp on her hand. Of course, Y/n noticed and practically pulled Tom down the hallway without saying a word. Only when she let go of the door of their room, allowing it to close with a small slam, did she speak her mind.

“You shower, I’m getting room service then movies in bed… no arguments Holland.” He stared at her ,mouth agape, a little taken aback by her assertiveness, typically the opposite of Y/n.

“I feel like you’ve just been inside all day, let me-“

“Nope. Nope. My holiday this is what I want… now shoo” She smirked, pushing him toward the ensuite door. Tom knew he did not have a choice in the matter, and even if he could possibly have some sort of influence- he was way too tired to argue.

Barely 15 minutes later, the two were wrapped cosily in the crisp white bedsheets, Tom with a small glass of a negroni cocktail and Y/n with her lime soda. Both were semi-reclined in a mound of pillows, yet Tom felt the need to also lean on her chest slightly. The familiarity of Y/n’s favourite movie ‘sunshine on leith’ playing on the screen, meant that within the first 10 minutes Tom was no longer alert. The smell of her perfume and the warmth of the duvet lulled him into a much needed slumber, making Y/n have to save the half-drunk negroni from spilling across the bedsheets as his grip relaxed. She just nestled in to the pillows further, a satisfied small grin dancing on her lips as she looked ahead at the TV, reducing the volume a little.

“Tom?…..Y/n?… Is anyone home?” A familiar voice sucked Y/n out from the next film ‘the greatest showman’, making her jump a little. Recognising it to be Dom instantly, Y/n had a mini argument in her head - whether to risk disturbing Tom by wriggling out from under him; or to call out instead, granting Dom independent entrance to the hotel room. It was possibly a bit of a weird position for her unofficial father-in-law to see his son and his girlfriend in, but she cared more right now about Tom resting than Dom’s opinions.

“Dom…. come in… it’s open I think.” Desperately trying to get the volume right - enough so Dom could hear, but not so much as to wake Tom she called out, craning her neck toward the door. Luckily almost immediately Dom let himself in, and quizzically walked in seeing Y/n in bed.

“Sorry… it’s just I didn’t want to disturb him” Nodding in understanding, Dom inspected the state of his grown up, yet childlike son, asleep on her shoulder.

“No no… he needs it. He always works himself raw for jobs but this…”

“It’s impressive even for him.” Y/n agreed, Dom noticing her unconscious stroking of his sons arm, soothing Tom as he slept.

“Well me and the boys were trying to phone you both because we are going for dinner-“

“Ah sorry my phones in my bag”

“No no it’s fine… just it looks like Tom could do with an extra hour or so.” Dom motioned again to the slumbering figure with his trademark small grin, finding the whole situation entirely heartwarming.

“I was planning on waking him up so we could all go to the pub this evening… but yeh skipping the dinner might be a plan. I know it’s your last night and all but-“

“-Don’t apologise Y/n. I’m glad you’re looking after the kid.” Y/n just smiled slightly, a small blush glowing from her cheeks. “I’ll um….leave you in peace… so maybe 9 o’clock? That gives you both 3 and a bit hours.”

“Sounds good!”Still speaking softly, Y/n freed one of her hands from the duvet and gave Dom a little wave as he exited the room giving a nod to her as the door closed.

It was a sign of the times. Dom used to be Tom’s go to whenever he was tires, frazzled or fed up. But now he had been superseded by a far superior option. A kind, beautiful, intellectual choice - that Dom would graciously accept defeat to.

He was awfully glad Tom had Y/n in his corner. And he was awfully glad he had found a surrogate daughter in Y/n too.

#tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tomholland #Harry Holland #fluff #Tom Holland tired #Tom Holland angst

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theasstour · 4 years

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟎.𝟒𝐊 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE 🐚🌊✨ Lightkeeper!Harry is here and I’m BEYOND excited to show you lot this concept I’ve been thinking about quite literally everyday for MONTHS now! I love this story with my entire heart, and I really hope it resonates with some of you and that you fall completely in love with lightkeeper!harry and ST like I have 🥺 Love you! Enjoy! x

Thursday, 11 June

The universe would always balance itself out, Y/N McKay was aware of this. She was aware that if she had faith and believed everything happens for a reason, it would make the tough times of her life easier to mentally handle. If she did good, the universe would work to give it back to her in some other form. However, that didn’t mean that when something dreadful did happen it wouldn’t affect her, and she wouldn’t feel hopeless. Because she did. Very much so.

Most of her life she had lived in a constant state of harmony. She was neither displeased nor satisfied with the life she was leading because it kept her out of trouble; it kept her safe. Her entire life she had lived in peace in Winchester, a fairly prissy town in the middle of Hampshire county in England. Her father owned a business of sorts, Y/N had never gotten the details of it or how he’d gotten where he was, but all she knew was he inherited it from his father and it was expected to be handed down generation after generation in the McKay family. However, Y/N was an only child and neither her mum nor her dad thought she’d be fit to run the business when the time came.

“Nothing personal, darling,” her mother had said when it was brought up during a dinner when Y/N was still in sixth form. “You just don’t have the brains for it.”

“What your mother means to say,” Y/N’s father went on. “You’re so intelligent in your own way, running the business won’t make you happy.”

They always called it that. The business. They never told her what it was about or explained when she asked questions about it. Not that she expected her dad to be a drug lord, but it would’ve been nice to be let in on something. It would’ve been nice to be given the opportunity to feel of enough importance to someone to know special things.

Y/N looked out the window of the train, the Cornish coast stretching out as far as the eye could see, the sun not yet hanging high enough on the sky to make it dreadful to walk outside in her black oversized smock dress. The book in her lap was still open, though she’d read the same page over and over and over again, not being able to concentrate for long enough to remember what happened at the top of the piece of paper. Everything was fuzzy and she had too much to think about; too much to consider.

The last 24 hours had been the worst of her life. Yesterday had turned everything upside down and she hated it. However, thinking the universe would balance itself out and work in her favour, she was also aware that the reason her life needed help to be smoothed out by higher powers in the first place, was because it was in imbalance. Something was off. Something had thrown it off. But she forced herself to stay hopeful, knowing that if she lost that little flicker of hope in what seemed like an endless night, it’d be next to impossible to find her way back to peacefulness.

She glanced down at the book in her lap and was about to start reading again, not liking it when she had to put the book away in the middle of a chapter. She wasn’t given the opportunity as the overhead speakers sounded their soft alarm, and next second, a woman was speaking.

“Next stop is St Ives. Doors will open on the right-hand side.”

The nerves Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach came back again, this time with more intensity than the last few. Though she realised what she was doing that morning when she boarded her train for Reading, and then again when she stepped on the train for St Erth, and yet again when she sat down on the train towards St Ives, this time it felt worse than all those times before. This was it. She was here.

She had no idea why she chose St Ives out of all places in Cornwall – in the world even –, why here of all places? Even years later, she could never seem to remember the exact moment when she chose that coastal town, or why it had appealed to her at all. Maybe it was the fact that it had a beach, or that it wasn’t particularly populated, or that there was no way anyone she had ever known would be there. The most important part however, and maybe the only reason why she chose St Ives, was because it was far away from Winchester. It was far away from her family, from her ex, and everything she associated with that town and everyone living in it.

She put The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall away in her purse, slinging her purse over her head to rest across her chest before she reached up and took her old leather bag down from the overhead compartment. This was the only one she would risk bringing as it used to be her father’s back in the day, but he never used it anymore and wouldn’t suspect it being gone. Placing the strap on her shoulder, she walked off to the closest door, apologising when she jabbed someone with her bag on the way out.

Stepping off, Y/N instantly regretted wearing a long-sleeved dress. Though she was under the protection of the roof above the platform, the heat was still almost insufferable. It got her wondering if this was just a normal day in the very South of England or if it was an exceptionally hot one. She prayed for the latter.

She walked out of the station, staying in the cool shade for a few minutes longer as she typed in the address of the inn she was staying at. Not really knowing how public transit worked here yet, she didn’t want to risk taking the wrong bus or asking a tourist for directions to a place they’d never heard of. Instead, she put her EarPods in and went on her merry way. The second she stepped out into the sun, she was once again reminded of why she’d never wear that black dress again that summer.

The Roaming Crab Inn was on The Terrace, the road along the coast of St Ives, holding dozens of hotels and other places to stay during a visit. Y/N didn’t know why she’d chosen this exact inn, or how she’d even happened upon it. It might’ve had something to do with the picture of the old lady grinning from ear to ear on the inn’s website. A picture that was so lovely and so warm that, in the midst of everything Y/N was going through right then, it made her tear up.

She stepped into the inn, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head, and made sure her hair looked alright before walking a bit further inside. Cherry wooden panels lined the floors, walls, and ceiling, a reception desk in the same style attached to the wall to the right. Pictures of all kinds of people hung on the walls. Y/N suspected it might be locals as well as dear guests who had come and gone over the years. No lights were on as the sharp afternoon sun was sufficient in keeping the lobby just bright enough o that electricity wasn’t needed. Fake green vines hung along the ceiling and walls, as well as from different pots on the fireplace to the right that didn’t seem to be in use. Still, two old recliners stood beside it, tempting to sit down and drown in, to escape a turbulent life.

To the left was a staircase leading up to the other landings, and though Y/N hadn’t stepped foot on it yet, she already knew it creaked. This entire house seemed more like a cottage you’d find in the middle of the country, not on the coast of South England. She slowly started making her way over to the reception, and that was when she noticed the back door. Behind the desk was an old, white windowed door, a little smaller in height but a little wider in breadth than normal doors – like the entrance. It was open, leading the way out into a back garden that seemed to be both small and surrounded by the neighbouring houses on all sides. The wooden fence was covered in vines, flowers of all kinds poking out amongst them and on the ground around. The stone paved patio seemed to be old and uneven, there was a set of bistro metal chairs in all the colours of the rainbow along with a white table to match them.

A gang of old ladies sat around the table, chattering amongst themselves and occasionally laughing, all holding a different knitting project each. Y/N hated the thought of disturbing them, but she also just wanted to check in and go up to her room; maybe even go for a walk to take a look around the place she’d be in for the next few weeks.

She reached for the bell, hitting it lightly as to not make it sound urgent and intrusive. A small yelp was heard from the back garden and then the sound of the metal chair scraping against the stone patio. As she heard the footsteps get closer, Y/N glanced around, taking in the interior of the inn undisturbed one more. As someone appeared in the doorway and their eyes met, the old lady who stood there gave Y/N that warm smile of hers she’d seen online the night before.

“Hello, dear!” she chirped, placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose and walking over to the computer on her side of the desk. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. And yourself?”

The old lady smiled, her eyes almost disappearing behind her high cheekbones. Her long white hair was fastened in a bun at the back of her head, the rest of her dressed in a pair of white trousers and a tunic with some bird print on it.

“I’m wonderful. What’s your name then, lovely?”

“Y/N McKay.”

“Ahh,” she said. “You’re the one who booked your stay last night.”

“That’s me, yeah,” Y/N chuckled, brushing some hair behind her ear.

“Till August 10th.”

“Yes.”

“Right then, Y/N,” the lady said, taking a key hanging from the wall beside her and taking her glasses off, smiling the entire time. “Let me show you to your room.”

The two walked up to the second floor, taking a right as they arrived and the inn-keeper unlocked the door. The innkeeper kept the door open for Y/N, letting her walk in first. Though the floor and ceiling were similar to the wooden panels of the lobby, the walls were white. Against the same wall that the door came to rest against stood an old blue dresser, and a fake flower in an elegant vase that seemed to be just one of the many flowers in the room. The double bed stood to the far left wall, white sheets covering it and looking so lush that it took everything in Y/N not to sprint over and throw herself onto it. There was a desk as well as a recliner, and a window on the opposite wall overlooking the ocean that was just about a minute’s walk from here.

“The bathroom is over there,” the innkeeper said, pointing at a door beside the staircase. “You share it with the other guests on the same floor as you, alright?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Y/N admitted, genuinely meaning it as well. She didn’t see the problem with that in the least.

“I’m mostly downstairs or in the next house over, which is mine,” she continued. “So if there’s ever anything you think I could help you with, do pop by.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she suddenly exclaimed, walking over to Y/N. “I’ve completely forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Bessie.” Bessie smiled at Y/N again, making the latter almost want to cry for the umpteenth time that day. “And I really hope you enjoy your stay here in St Ives.”

With that, the innkeeper left Y/N to herself. Y/N let her bag and purse fall to the floor before she dragged the chair by the desk over to the window. She opened it and just stared out across the beach and sea outside. Seagulls were howling overhead, waves were crashing against shore, and the familiar salty scent of the presence of the ocean lingered in the air constantly. It was like one of those trips she’d taken with her parents every summer, a new place every year, always by the coast. Her favourite might’ve been their vacation in Bali. It was gorgeous beyond comprehension, in a way no other place she’d ever been could come close to. But she was aware she’d never go on another trip with her parents again. Not after everything that happened the night before.

Now she couldn’t rely on them any longer. She was on her own. She had no idea what she was going to do, no idea what lay ahead of her. As she at on the chair looking out over St Ives, the town she’d spend her summer in, she realised she’d never felt more forlorn.

St Ives is a coastal town located in the very south-west of the southernmost county in England, Cornwall. It is known for its surf beaches – most well-known being Porthmeor – and its many art galleries and restaurants. Tate St Ives is a gallery at the seafront and has rotating modern art exhibitions, focusing primarily on British artists. The Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden is located in the modernist artist’s former studio, displaying her bronzes and other works.Y/N, having grown up in a fairly posh family with exquisite and particular taste, knew a thing or two about art.

She always had her purse on her, and in it she’d keep all the essentials for going out and about. Hand sanitiser, Kleenex, band-aids, pads, keys, a portable charger, and the book she was currently reading. The Well of Loneliness lay in her purse as she strolled around, a St Ives guide book in her hand that she’d bought at one of the local stores on what must’ve been their high street.

First and foremost, she wanted to do some sightseeing. She’d be here for a long time, so she might as well get acquainted with the town she’d stay in and learn its ins and outs. There is this part of St Ives called The Island, that isn’t at all an island, but it is just called that. The Island is the imposing headland that juts out into the seat from the spit of land that separates the harbour and Porthmeor beach – the most popular and most central beach in the town. In ancient times it was a promontory fort, but these days it’s probably better known as a location of the tiny chapel of St Nicholas. Walking to The Island, Y/N took in the incredible views of the ocean surrounding her, and the beach – The Townas - beside her that was cramped between The Island and Godrevy Point on the other side.

To her left was what looked to be Hellesveor Cliff, and at the very point of it, on the top of what must’ve been the most haunting cliff Y/N had ever seen, stood a lighthouse. Looking in her guide book, it didn’t say much about the lighthouse except the care of it had been passed down generation after generation by the family currently living there. It was at the very edge of St Ives, farther out than Godrevy Point. It made it so Porthmeor, St Ives, and The Townas were all guarded by these two points, the St Ives Lighthouse watching over its town and the far coast around.

Continuing on her walk, she strolled down the Down-a-long, which is the old, lower part of St Ives built on the narrow ridge of land that separated The Island to the rest of the town. This part of town is the archetypal image of St Ives with its jumble of cobble streets lined with whitewashed, old cottages, some seeming to fall apart and others in better condition. Y/N thought the street names were equally evocative and unique, some of her favourites being Salubrious Place, Teetotal Street, and The Digney. Though it said in her catalogue that fishermen used to live in the Down-a-long before, next to none lived there now as most of it was occupied by galleries, cafes, and little shows that one can shake a stick at. As she strolled through Fore Street, the main shopping street in St Ives, she walked by a vintage shop – Vintage Divine – and jotted it down on her phone.

All her life, Y/N had always loved everything vintage. She liked the thought of owning something that had once been part of someone else’s life, that had made them happy enough they wanted to hand it on and give someone else that same happiness they’d experienced. Though neither her mum, her dad, or her ex-boyfriend liked her obsession with vintage and stuff owned by others before her, their disinterest had never stopped her from going to markets or stores. However, she never bought anything unless she knew she could hide it. Now, she thought, that didn’t have to be a problem.

A few years back when she started to realise her obsession with old stuff, furniture, clothing, and books owned by others before her, she read an article online. The article had suggested that people are attracted to vintage pieces because they offer an escape. Wearing these garments, holding these ornaments, touching furniture from another time is a way to experience a different life. A life that isn’t your own and that was lived before hers or parallel to hers. Shopping vintage then created an exciting search for something special and creative, something a normal shopping trip could never give her. It was weird how much she was looking forward to going through that shop, Y/N realised, but she couldn’t wait to explore and take items home with her. Not that she expected she’d be welcomed home to Winchester anytime soon, but she chose not to think about that too much.

Fore Street was a narrow and cobblestone-clad street with people milling about trying to find a decent place for lunch. Stone cottages lined both sides of the street, either a neutral colour like white, a dull yellow, beige, light blue, or just plain, grey stone. Y/N enjoyed walking among these houses. It was a quiet town, peace seemed to be permanently settled between the cramped streets and tiny houses. Though Winchester wasn’t London with its tall buildings and never-ending bustle, St Ives was even smaller than her hometown, which made it that much more appealing to her. There was a sense of relaxation in the mere atmosphere around her that massaged the tension out of her shoulders and straightened her hunched back.

The door to the Seafood Café she was about to walk by burst open. A couple of people standing around jumped at the commotion, as did Y/N. Dressed in high-waisted loose fitted denim jeans, a white tee shirt tucked into them, a pair of orange worn down Vans, and brown curls in a dishevelled mess, the man who caused the ruckus didn’t seem to notice everyone’s attention being on him. He halted a bit as he came outside before he walked left. Y/N stopped moving, the sudden interruption in her peaceful stroll taking her off guard. The man suddenly started straight for Y/N, his head bent, eyes on the cobblestone before him. He didn’t seem to notice where he was going, not looking up in the direction he was heading. So, when he saw Y/N’s shadow, that’s when he glanced up. Their eyes met just a second before he managed to stop, preventing them from crashing into one another.

“Oh!” he erupted, voice crescendoing. He blinked twice, eyes settling on her for a few seconds before he said a quick, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I should’ve moved out of the way,” Y/N assured him, about to step to the side when she noticed his lips moving again. No words came out, though. She stood there for a few seconds, just watching his jaw and lips work, not seeming to find his words.

“Have a good day,” she went on, trying to step out of the way when the man blurted out, “Please, miss.”

She looked at him again, about to narrow her eyes when she saw a troubled expression on his face. His eyes were a little wide and he glanced over his shoulder before meeting her eyes again. The door to Seafood Café opened again, a woman and a younger girl stepping out.

“Please,” he repeated, voice low. “Go along.”

Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll owe you my entire life if you just play along for a minute or two, yeah?”

She cocked her head some to the side. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. I should-“

“-I don’t usually do this- I mean, I never do, I’ve never done this before – ever -, but-but they think I have a girlfriend and I don’t. Please-“

“-Harry!”

The man – who Y/N could only assume to be Harry - turned around to face a tiny Filipina woman and an even smaller girl beside her, who looked to be no older than ten. The two looked Y/N over, eyes scanning her from head to toe. Y/N felt like she was under a magnifying glass.

But while they took her in, Y/N’s thoughts wandered to the words the man beside her had said only a few seconds earlier. “They think I have a girlfriend and I don’t.” Was he… was he saying what Y/N thought he was saying? She glanced at him, seeing him draw a shaky breath and meet her eyes, waiting for her to make the next move it seemed. Everything that had happened in the last minute confused her. She didn’t know this man, didn’t know what he’d told these two women or why. She was also well aware that by just walking away she wouldn’t need to worry about him any longer; his problems weren’t hers. This seemed messy, confusing, and a little risky.

Usually, she wouldn’t want any part of it. The Y/N she was yesterday wouldn’t have considered this. She would’ve looked at the man apologetically before excusing herself and walking off, leaving him to figure out whatever lie he’d told these two on his own. But Y/N had changed. Or… at least that’s what she wanted to believe… Fine, she wanted to change, and maybe this was a place to start.

Harry sighed, turning around to face the two he had tried to get away from, shoulders sinking as he met their eyes. The defeat was evident in his body language; he was about to give up and just tell them that he didn’t have a girlfriend. That’s what finally did it, seeing how it took absolutely everything out of him to tell them the following. “Jasmine, I’m sorry, I need to tell you-“

“-It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N interrupted him, smiling as she stepped out from behind Harry. Though she had seriously considered helping him, it still surprised her when she actually heard the words coming out of her mouth. Her heart was beating about as fast as it had that morning when she’d left Hampshire.

Harry looked at her, mouth falling open, obviously shocked by her willingness to help him. It took him a few seconds to gather himself, but once he did, he looked back at the two they were trying to convince with a bright smile on his face.

“What did you have to tell me, Harry?” the older woman asked.

“That, uhh…” He looked at Y/N again before glancing at who she could only assume to be Jasmine. “Jessa, this is my girlfriend.”

Jasmine raised her eyebrows, eyes lighting up suddenly. The girl beside her stood there fidgeting with the hem of her top, looking Y/N up and down still.

“Hi,” Y/N said, stepping forward and reaching her hand out for Jasmine. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Jasmine said, a smile coming to rest on her round face as they let go of the others’ hand. “Harry, you said her name was unusual.”

“That… I-“ Harry stopped himself.

Y/N’s lips parted, unsure how to react to that.

“That’s why you didn’t want to tell us her name, since it was so unusual. Y/N isn’t unusual.”

Y/N chuckled a little, looking at Harry whose whole face was a shade of red she’d never seen before. He glanced around him, meeting her gaze before quickly looking to the ground, scratching at his neck.

“You thought my name was weird?” She was well aware Harry hadn’t known her name until that point, let alone had any time to form an opinion on it. But regardless, she found it funny how he’d refused to give them his pretend girlfriend’s name by telling them it was an unusual one, as if they’d laugh at it.

“I didn’t-“ Harry sighed. “It wasn’t like I was embarrassed I just…” He trailed off, motioning with his hands, but Y/N had no idea what that meant. She didn’t take it to heart, though, knowing it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his cover-up story.

“He has such a way with words,” Jasmine said, clicking her tongue at him. “Anyway, I’m Jasmine, but just call me Jessa. Harry’s stepmother.”

“And I’m Grace.” The little one stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear. The small one had the same roundness to her face as the woman beside her, as well as the same flat nose and almond shaped eyes like Jessa’s. “Harry’s kept you a secret.”

“Gracie, I haven’t kept her a secret as much as I’ve kept her away,” Harry said. “You’re gonna scare her.”

“We won’t scare her!” Jessa exclaimed. “It’s your girlfriend, Harry! We will be nice.”

“Somehow doubt that.” Harry turned to Y/N, turning his back to his step mum and what must be his half-sister. “They like to interrogate, especially Jasmine.”

“You villainise us,” Jessa said, walking closer to them and taking Y/N’s hand between hers. It took her off guard and she almost pulled her hand away, the feel of someone’s skin voluntarily touching hers felt weird.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Harry continued, ignoring Jessa. There was an apology in his eyes that he didn’t voice. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought she saw anyway. “They’ll make it hard to enjoy yourself.”

Jessa reached over and pinched Harry’s exposed forearm. He flinched away from her, glaring as he stepped back a few paces.

“Now you’re being rude.”

“I don’t want you lot to make her uncomfortable with all your questions,” Harry said, a frown etched in his forehead. He hadn’t met Y/N’s eyes directly ever since they almost walked into one another. “Besides, she’s…” Harry’s eyes fell to the guide in Y/N’s hand. “She’s sightseeing.”

Y/N smiled at Jessa and Grace, showing them the small book she was carrying with her. “I’ve just been to the Island. The view from there is fantastic.”

“Harry, the view from the Island is nothing. Have you shown her yet?”

“Jessa, it’s… she’s just…”

Finally, he looked at her, not knowing what to say that would make his stepmother give it a rest. Y/N could understand why she asked so many questions, she was just eager to get to know someone who she thought was Harry’s new partner.

“I arrived this morning,” Y/N answered, smiling at Jasmine. “We haven’t had the time to meet up properly, so in the meantime I’ve just been walking around.”

“Where’s your luggage?”

“At the Inn. The Roaming Crab.”

Jessa’s eyes went wide, looking at Harry disapprovingly again. “She’s not even staying with you? What kind of boyfriend are you?”

“She could stay at our house,” Grace said, eyes on the space that separated Y/N and Harry before she met Y/N’s eyes.

“It’s not that… It’s not like that, I-“ Harry stopped himself, dragging his hand over his face that had been bright red ever since this whole spectacle started. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Am I?” Jessa crossed her arms.

“Yes… I-“ Harry stuttered and though Y/N hadn’t known this man for very long, she could tell he found it hard to find his words in stressful situations.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm each other. We haven’t stayed together for a long period of time before, this would be the first, so I’m staying at the Inn so we won’t get tired of each other too quickly.” Y/N hoped she sounded confident and truthful; she wouldn’t want to blow this for Harry already. After all, she had no idea how long he’d need this pretend girlfriend lie for.

A frown appeared between Jasmine’s brows and it dawned on Y/N that she must’ve said something wrong just now. Panic rose to her chest, but Harry cleared his throat.

“Except for that trip to Exeter last month, but that was only a single weekend. Now she’s here for…” He narrowed his eyes, as if the answer was at the tip of his tongue but Y/N knew she was the only one with an answer to that.

“August 12th,” she said, Jessa letting go of a small squeal at the sound of it. “Dunno how many weeks that’ll be, but I’m-“

“-That’s fantastic! You need to come to Gracie’s birthday next weekend.”

Harry stuttered a little, Jessa’s enthusiasm making him nervous, Y/N thought. “Nanay-“

“-She’s going to love that, won’t you, Gracie?”

Grace nodded her head, grinning up at Y/N. “You can put pretty stuff on my eyelids.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some and Jessa laughed. “Eyeshadow.”

“Oh! Well, I don’t have loads of that since I’m no good with make-up, but I do have nice jewellery.” Y/N picked at the one she was wearing just then, a gold necklace she’d gotten for her birthday the year before.

Grace’s smile didn’t fade one bit at that. In fact, it only seemed to get a little bigger at the sight of Y/N’s pretty necklace. The girl didn’t say anything, but she swayed from side to side, looking excitedly up at her brother’s supposed new girlfriend.

“You’re coming then?” Jessa asked, looking so happy she might burst, and it hurt Y/N that she probably wouldn’t.

“Jessa, we have barely had time to catch up, let her breathe,” Harry pleaded and Jessa waved her hands at them.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, Y/N. It’s just…” Jasmine’s eyes fell on Harry standing beside Y/N, her eyes glistening. “It’s just so nice to know Harry’s not alone anymore.”

“I’ve never been alone, nanay.”

Jessa shook her head, sighing heavily. “Alright, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. You’ll probably want some time to yourselves to just walk around. Has she been to the lighthouse, Harry? Take her there.”

Harry sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Nay-“

“-Fine, we’ll leave. It was so nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Jessa. And you, Grace.”

Grace gave a wave before Jessa took her hand and the two walked away, probably on their way home or whatever other plans they had. Y/N watched them for a few before turning to Harry. His blush had calmed down a little, but a bead of sweat had appeared at his cupid’s bow. If it was because of nerves or the weather, she did not know, but she was not about to ask him that.

Upon closer inspection and now that they didn’t have Harry’s stepmum and sister watching over them, Y/N could finally study the man she rescued for a total of five minutes. Green eyes that reminded her of the moors she’d spend time running through each summer, a slight stubble along his soft jawline, nose a little too big for his face, and a slight dimple in each cheek even though he wasn’t smiling fully yet. She wondered what they’d look like if he actually grinned.

“Hi,” she said, reaching her hand out. “Y/N.”

Harry chuckled softly, taking her hand, eyes staying on the place they were touching each other. “Harry.”

“I’m glad I could be of some help, Harry.”

A crooked smile reached his lips as his eyes fell to the ground and he stepped away, letting his hand fall to hit his thigh. He glanced up at her. “Thank you for that. They say they’re worried, but they’re really just nosey.”

Y/N grimaced a little, making a breathy laugh escape Harry’s lips. “Is your life more interesting than theirs?”

“Not in the least. I lead the most boring existence in the most boring town in the United Kingdom.”

She chuckled, reaching for her necklace. “Not sure you can claim that title, my life’s pretty up there as well.”

Harry tried to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but the arms of his denim jacket wrapped around his waist were in the way. “Oh?”

“Blimey, I won’t keep you if you’ve got things to do. You look like a busy man.”

Harry stared at the watch on his wrist and bit his bottom lip, looking up at her through his thick set of dark eyelashes. “Yeah, I gotta be on my way actually.”

She gave him a smile, getting one in return.

“Listen, thank you so much for that. I just needed to get them off my back. You don’t actually have to come to Gracie’s birthday party, Jessa just loves when she gets to interrogate people. Her favourite sport is discussing gossip.”

Y/N laughed. “You burn a lot of calories doing that.”

Harry chuckled, scratching at his neck as his eyes fell to her neck and then shoulder. “Anyway, I don’t know how to repay you. If you’re here till August, I guess I’ll see you around.”

For some reason, Harry not really knowing what to say was funny to Y/N. It wasn’t like he owed her anything or the other way around. She’d just helped him out and now they could part ways. Easy as that.

“You don’t have to repay me, I’m glad I could help,” she smiled. “I’ll try and stay out of your way if I see you out and about. You know, to avoid the awkward conversation of telling them we’re not actually together.”

Harry’s lips tipped upward. “Right, thanks.”

“Now, since I’m talking to you,” she said, opening the catalogue again. “Where’s the Tate Gallery?”

Harry turned around, pointing up Fore Street from where they stood. “When you reach Bunkers Hill, you follow that all the way up to Back Road, then you just walk along The Digney and it’ll be on your right-hand side.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. I… It was too much-“

“-I’m serious when I say I’m glad I could help, don’t worry about it.” She shot him one last smile before giving him a wave. “Bye, Harry.”

“Bye,” he said, giving her a short nod before she focused her attention back on her surroundings. She needed to catch the street names and get her walk to the Tate on the first try because she could really not be asked to walk back and whip her phone out. After all, Harry just helped her so it was going to be easy to just follow his navigation and get there.

As she strolled along the gallery and the rest of St Ives that day, she couldn’t help but think about that little encounter earlier. She wondered what happened after that, if Jessa and Grace demanded more information from Harry or if he told them how it was all a lie. Putting it all aside, she focused on her trip instead. She’d never meet that family again, but she really hoped everything worked out for them regardless. The last thing she needed was for this summer to be about anything but her and what she really wanted in life. She didn’t need distractions. Her whole life up until now had been a distraction.

Friday, 12 June

Being in south England and not taking advantage of the amazing beaches this part of the country offered, was maybe on the same wrongdoing scale as committing a serious crime. Y/N had gotten dressed that morning and headed straight downstairs to eat breakfast in the tiny dining hall of the Inn. It was positioned in what must’ve originally been the living room in the house, four tables placed in there with two chairs placed by each of them. The dining room had the same layout as the entrance to the Inn; wooden panels all over, flowers and plants everywhere along with pictures and candles to top it off.

When she walked downstairs, Bessie was quick to jump up from where she was sitting in her small back garden, meeting Y/N with a warm beam on her face. When Bessie asked Y/N if she’d like a meat, vegetarian, or vegan full English, Y/N startled herself by replying vegetarian. She hadn’t grown up vegetarian, but in all her life, she’d never had a purely vegetarian meal. So, instead of correcting herself, she let Bessie make her that vegetarian breakfast. The thought of eating something she hadn’t before didn’t make her anxious as she thought it would’ve, but she was rather excited about the whole thing.

Bessie came out with the tray, setting it down before Y/N and asked her if she would mind Bessie’s company. With a quick reply encouraging the old lady to sit down, Bessie ran – or walked as fast as her short legs could take her – outside and returned with her knitting. Y/N had been alone pretty much all day the day before nd she had anticipated being alone all day today as well, so she rather enjoyed Bessie’s company. She had never really envisioned this to be part of her trip to Cornwall – an old lady with her grey hair put neatly in a bun with two knitting needles holding it up, wearing a long bohemian dress and glasses perched on the end of her nose, talking her ear off and Y/N having an immense amount of fun in the process.

The sea and seagulls sounded from inside the Inn, but as Y/N put her bathing suit and summer dress on, on her way down towards the beach, the costal sounds only intensified. The salt in the air clung to her skin and the smell of seaweed got more prominent the closer she got to the ocean. She put her stuff down and brought The Well of Loneliness out again, wanting to finish the book that day because she really wanted to know how it all ended. She wasn’t sure how much time went by as she laid there, completely captivated by the world Radclyffe Hall had created within the book.

It wasn’t that Y/N particularly enjoyed the book. No, it wasn’t that. It was endlessly long and detailed, for absolutely no purpose. The writing wasn’t particularly memorable; one wouldn’t remember it for its evocative and imaginative characteristics, nor for Hall’s ability to tell instead of show. Over the years she’d studied English in college, Y/N knew that a writer should be able to balance those two out; show some, tell some. But that concept was lost on Hall. No, Y/N didn’t like The Well of Loneliness for its writing, not even the plot.

She liked the book because of the plea embedded in it. The plea for LGBT people to be treated as human; that they were normal and not a disease. Why did they have to be other? They didn’t choose this life so why were they to be punished for it by being treated differently? By being illegal? The Well of Loneliness was published around the same time Orlando by Virginia Woolf, who was one of Y/N’s favourite authors ever. Though these two books touched on similar themes of identity, where Orlando shrouded the issue of mysticism, The Well dared to discuss sexual identity openly. Y/N commended Radclyffe Hall for that.

However much Y/N sympathised with Hall and the main character, Stephen, she couldn’t help but laugh at the hypocrisy in the book. While it attempted to strive for acceptance of one minority, it also emanated an underlying attitude of snobbishness and chauvinism towards other minorities at the same time, which made no sense to Y/N. Then again, it was the 1920s, so she guessed she couldn’t really ask for anything else from a rich white person at the time.

Having finally finished the book, Y/N asked someone nearby if they could watch her things while she took a dip. There was a blonde bloke around her age and another bloke with blue hair, sitting not too far off, and when she asked if they could keep an eye on her stuff, they promised they would.

Y/N took her time swimming, trying to remember the last time she’d been on a beach where the public were allowed. It was odd seeing so many around her, but she liked it. She liked the sound of others around her. Silence was good, but in the disturbance of human noise was the reassurance of rescue. The promise that you might be lonely, but you are never alone.

Walking back up to her picnic blanket, Y/N thanked the two men before lying back down, soaking up the sun. She hadn’t been aware she’d already been at the beach for a few hours until she realised her stomach was rumbling. So, packing her stuff together and making sure her hair was somewhat dry, she walked around to see if there were any places she could sit down. The only place on Porthminster Beach was the café with the same name, and by the looks of it, it was completely full. Since Bessie had served Y/N some breakfast, she must have something for lunch as well.

Walking back the 5 minute to the hotel, Bessie jumped up from her place in the back garden, sitting back there with two other ladies and knitting like they’d done the day before.

“Hello, dear, you had a good trip to the beach?”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel completely at ease in this old woman’s company. “Yes, I did. A bit hungry, though, do you have something I could eat, possibly?”

“Of course! What do you fancy?”

“Oh, a toastie’s fine.”

“Vegetarian?”

For some reason, the fact Bessie remembered Y/N’s preference from this morning made her smile. “Yes,” she said without thinking.

“Right, just sit down and I’ll come by with your lunch, my lovely.”

“Thank you so much, Bessie.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Y/N sat down, bringing her phone out as she hadn’t checked it properly in a few hours. She wasn’t sure what she expected, to be fair. There was no one from home who would want to contact her, and if they were to, they would rather look around Winchester than call. In their minds, she couldn’t have run far. Regardless, the mere fact they hadn’t even called her made something inside her sink a little. It felt awful knowing how little she meant to them all along. So little that they wouldn’t even pick up the phone and save her a call or a text.

“Here, my dear,” Bessie said, putting down a tray before Y/N. “I’m gonna pop outside to my little knitting club, if that’s fine by you. Just come on out if you don’t have anything else to do after this, yeah?”

“Thank you so much,” Y/N said and Bessie smiled at her before she disappeared outside again.

Turning her attention to her food, Y/N started thinking about what she could do the rest of the day. She could walk some more around town, she’d seen bigger parts of it yesterday, but there were always corners of a town that needed discovering. Once she was about halfway through her toastie, hasty footsteps sounded from the lobby and a somewhat familiar figure appeared. He stopped a bit on his way towards the reception desk, as if he didn’t want to be a bother to Bessie of some kind by asking for assistance. Bessie appeared a few seconds later, grinning from ear to ear as usual.

“Hello, Harry love.”

“Hi, Bess. I…” he stopped himself, running his hands up and down the sides of his white and grey striped cotton-blend trousers, a navy blue tee shirt tucked into it and a pair of white Vans on his feet. “I just wanted to come check again.”

“For the third time.”

“Yeah, well…” He did a quick shrug. “I just wanted to check.”

“She’s here.” Bessie gestured to Harry’s right and when he looked that way, his eyes immediately found Y/N’s. She didn’t think she’d ever see him again. However, a summer in a small coastal town would make that very hard. She’d try her hardest to stay out of Harry’s way, as well as his family’s, so she wouldn’t make things awkward. She would have escaped to a town a little further south or on the other side of Cornwall, but she was settled in now and she’d already paid for her whole stay.

Though she’d promised to keep away from him to prevent any unpleasant situations, Harry hadn’t made her the same promise. And here he was. For some reason. He seemed both taken off guard to see her sitting there as well as relieved he’d finally caught her. A sigh left him, slumping his tense shoulders a little before he thanked Bessie quickly and walked to Y/N.

“Is it,” he started as he made his way over. “Is it okay if I sit down?”

Y/N nodded her head while swallowing, gesturing with her hand at the chair opposite hers. “Yes, go ahead,” she said when her mouth was free to.

“Cheers.” Harry sat down, slid a little closer to the table and rested his hands between his legs as he leaned back against the back of the chair.

The two fell into silence for a little while, Y/N watching as Harry’s eyes fixed on the small bouquet of flowers in the tiny vase placed in the middle of the round table. Yes, she loved company, but Harry’s had taken her a little by surprise and she was eager to know why he’d come looking for her. She didn’t want to try and draw a conclusion herself without hearing his reasoning first, knowing that whatever she came up with wouldn’t be correct anyway. Instead, she put her toastie back on her plate and focused her attention on Harry, who had yet to say anything. From the way he was biting the inside of his lip, she assumed he was mulling over the right thing to say. It didn’t seem to ever come when finally, he opened his mouth.

“First, I just want to say sorry for yesterday,” he said, meeting her eyes, but quickly looking to her shoulder. “It was proper daft. I was desperate and I panicked, and you were right there.” He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

Y/N just gave him a smile. “You don’t have to apologise, I’m glad I could help.”

“And I appreciate you helping me out, I really do, but… here’s the thing…” He cleared his throat. “Jessa and Gracie are right about losing their minds of this.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh?”

“Yeah, they called and texted all last night and this morning, saying how nice it was to meet you, that I need to bring you to Grace’s birthday next Saturday,” Harry said. “And it makes me wonder if it was even worth it yesterday. I still appreciate what you did, and this is all my fault, but I think…” He trailed off again, scratching at the back of his neck. “Look, I’m doing a naff job of explaining this.”

Sipping her juice, Y/N just smiled at him till she put her glass down. “Take your time.”

He took a deep breath. “Think I might tell them it’s all fake. I don’t have a partner and that’s fine.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, being single is fine.”

“Only thing that’s stopping me is the fact that Jasmine will be crushed. Ever since my dad died, she’s been so worried about me living alone in the lighthouse.”

There was so much to unpack in that sentence that Y/N felt herself retract a little, scanning his face for what the appropriate reaction to that would be. Harry must’ve noticed her silence so he glanced at her face, eyes going wide.

“Oh! Don’t feel like you-“

“-I’m sorry about your dad.”

“No, that’s okay, he hasn’t been with us for two years now,” Harry went on. “That was a real mood killer. Bringing up my dead father with someone I barely know.”

Y/N smiled. “Think you fake breaking up with me was a great mood killer before that was even brought up.”

Harry smiled a little at that, those deep dimples just barely gracing his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” She wiped at her mouth with the napkin, brows slowly coming into a frown. “You said something about a lighthouse… do you live there?”

“In the lighthouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m the lighthouse keeper.”

Her frown deepened a little.

“What?”

“I didn’t think those existed anymore.”

“What, lighthouses?” Harry’s smile widened, amusement tracing his pink lips.

“No, lighthouse keepers.”

He shrugged. “Here’s a living, breathing example of one.”

She couldn’t help her laughter. “Fine, I take it back. I don’t really think about lighthouses enough to give their keepers much of a thought either.”

“Too bad.”

Y/N just shook her head some, noticing a slight redness to Harry’s cheeks that hadn’t been there a few seconds earlier. “You were saying about Jessa.”

“She’s worried about me living alone in the lighthouse. Says I’ll be lonely and that she thinks about me sitting up there crying my eyes out or summat.”

“Do you? Cry your eyes out?”

“No, I like having my own space. I like living there alone. She’s just being a protective stepmum, looking out for me and all that. Like, yes, I’m still sad Dad is dead, but it wasn’t like he lived with me in the lighthouse anyway. He lived with Jasmine and Grace.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “She doesn’t want you to be alone ‘cause she thinks you don’t want to be.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, pausing a bit before mumbling something that sounded like, “That’s why I’ve told them for a few months now that I have a girlfriend.”

She narrowed her eyes some.

“To get them off my back, innit? I don’t want them to think I’m miserable, ‘cause I’m not. But when I told them I had a girlfriend, they got so happy, yeah? I just tried to be as vague as possible, didn’t give them a name and they didn’t ask, assuming I wanted to keep her secret. Jessa hasn’t bugged me about this in weeks… Until yesterday.”

Y/N started piecing everything together. “That’s why you stormed out of the restaurant.”

He nodded. “And ran into you.”

Y/N couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “The idea of just telling them I was your fake girlfriend just fell into your head once you saw me?”

Harry chuckled and shifted his gaze away from her, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah. I never do stuff like that. I hate uncertainty, so trusting you yesterday when I didn’t know if you’d play along… well, it took five years of my life.”

She laughed. “If I hadn’t then the whole lie would’ve been obvious to Jessa and Grace.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help then,” Y/N said, really meaning it as well.

“Yeah, and thank you so much for doing so. It really helped me out… if you look away from Jasmine texting me five times today alone to organise a dinner with you and all of us.”

They both laughed a little at that and when Y/N glanced at Harry again, he was looking down at his hands in his lap. After a brief pause, he met her eyes again.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, and thank you for helping me. I’ll tell them everything now, I don’t want you to have to hide while you’re here for two months.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

For the next few seconds, they looked at one another in silence. Y/N thought back to the moment she’d seen Harry, how it might’ve taken her a few seconds to catch on, but her main instinct had been to help him. She thought of the gratitude on Harry’s face when she played along, how she hoped he one day would find an actual girlfriend that would have just as big of an impact on Jessa and Grace as it seemed she herself had. She was about to tell Harry this when the sound of footsteps sounded from the lobby again.

A woman Bessie’s age walked in, a bag slung over her shoulder and sunglasses in her short black hair. As she stepped inside, she spotted Harry and Y/N sitting together and her mouth fell open, a grin coming to rest on her wrinkling face.

“Bessie, you didn’t tell me these two were going to be here,” the old woman said, walking into the dining area. Bessie stepped out from behind the wall that hid the reception desk from the dining hall. At that, Y/N’s stomach dropped. Bessie must’ve heard their entire conversation. By the look on Harry’s face, he was going through a similar near-death experience to the one Y/N was currently enduring.

“Hi, Mrs Rose,” Harry said, no one seemed to notice the slight tremor to his voice.

“Harry and his new girlfriend,” Mrs Rose said, looking between them. “You know, you lot are the talk of the town.”

“We are?” Harry asked, the surprise in his voice so evident it made the older women laugh.

“Yes, of course! Jasmine told everyone!” Mrs Rose continued, looking to Bessie who was already nodding her head.

“Not everyone, but she told her friends, and you know how people like to gossip around here, don’t you, Harry?” Bessie gave him a smile and Harry smiled back, though it did not reach his eyes. “Anyway, Florence, this is Y/N. Y/N, Florence.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Y/N said, grinning at Florence who stuck her hand out. The two shook hands as Florence beamed back at Y/N. “So, the whole town knows?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case,” Florence said, turning to Bessie who made a noise of agreement. “Jessa can talk about everything and anything for hours, but if her stepson gets a girlfriend? That’s the news of the century and she will not shut up.”

“How lovely,” Y/N said, not really knowing what else was appropriate in this setting as Harry hadn’t opened his mouth once to say anything.

“It’s a little less lonesome up in that lighthouse now, hm?”

“Oh, uhm…” Harry looked at Y/N and then back at Florence, his words having completely escaped him. Y/N was about to come to Harry’s rescue when Bessie took them both by surprise.

“They stayed here tonight,” Bessie explained and Florence looked at her with a furrow between her brows.

“Why on earth would they do that? Harry’s got a perfectly nice place by the lighthouse.”

“Who are we to question the decisions of our youth?” Bessie linked arms with Florence. “Let’s go outside, Flo dear. Leave the lovebirds to be by themselves.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Rose,” Y/N called after them.

“And you, Y/N!”

The second the two ladies were out of sight, Harry and Y/N shared a wide-eyed look, both of their panic equal it seemed. Y/N took a sip of her juice, somehow thinking it would calm her down. It did not.

“Jasmine told everyone,” Harry said, voice a whisper so no one walking by or sitting in the back garden would hear them. “She told everyone.”

“She can’t have… right?”

“You underestimate Jessa. If she was kidnapped and put in a gag, she’d be able to talk through it and move her jaw and teeth in a way that would obliterate said gag.” Harry ran a hand over his face. “She’s very chatty.”

“You’ve painted a vivid picture.”

Harry sighed, leg bouncing and eyes distant as he seemed to be racking his brain for a solution to the situation they were finding themselves in. “I was gonna tell Jessa it was a lie. I was gonna tell-“

“-You still can.”

“But everyone knows now. It’ll be well embarrassing for us when we have to tell people on the street that ‘oh yeah, that ol’ thing, we only pretended to be a couple so people wouldn’t be all up in Harry’s business,’ I somehow don’t see that going down well.”

“Then there’s only one thing we can do?”

“What’s that?”

“We pretend to be a couple.”

He stared at her, his facial expression very neutral, and though Y/N didn’t know him well enough yet, she did think she could decipher when he was displeased and when he was not. He seemed to be mulling it over, wanting for her to elaborate before he made a final decision.

“Everyone knows, I’m leaving in August, we can just say we broke up when August comes around.”

Harry nodded, thinking for a moment before he asked, “What will people say when they see us separated on the street then? Like, we’re not seen together.”

“People need to spend some time apart; it’s exhausting to be around another person 24/7.”

Harry nodded again, contemplating their predicament. “There’s always a lot of parties around here during summer. You don’t have to tag along, but you might have to if Jessa’s gonna be there.”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders some. “I don’t have anything to do all summer, anyway. Might as well be in a fake relationship with a bloke I barely know and help him all I can.”

This made a breathy chuckle leave Harry’s lips and he held her gaze some before having it fall to his folded hands. “Well…” he said, suddenly reaching his hand across the table. “I’m Harry Edward Styles.”

Y/N laughed but took Harry’s hand, shaking it lightly. “Pleased to meet you, Harry. I’m Y/N Bernadette Angelica McKay.”

Harry whistled under his breath. “Mouthful.”

“What happens when you’re brought up in a posh family.”

Harry smiled at that and sat back in his chair. “I guess… I-I guess we should talk about how we got together and all that.”

“Yeah, make a story so it sounds more believable.”

“It’ll help if we have the same story, yes.”

She couldn’t help her laughter again, but it was cut short as Harry’s phone in his pocket started ringing. He sighed, taking it out and looking at it before putting it back down.

“Look, I gotta go.”

“Oh.” Y/N, having thought they were going to plan their fake dating history, blinked in confusion when Harry stood from his chair and looked at her apologetically. “We’ll see each other at some point.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, walking off toward the back garden, calling Bessie’s name as he did. They exchanged some words Y/N couldn’t hear and Harry disappeared into the kitchen for a minute before resurfacing again. Standing in the lobby, he looked at Y/N through the doorway leading into the dining area, mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with something to say.

She just gave him a smile, hoping he understood that she just wanted him to take his time. It took one more sigh and a little staring contest before Harry finally found his words.

“You know where to find me, my house is the very tall, pointy one on the outskirts of town.”

She chuckled, watching as he walked out of the front door and down the street. Y/N found her bag, putting it on her shoulder as she got her lunch tray and sat it in the kitchen as she’d done after her breakfast that morning. On her way upstairs, Y/N turned as she reached the front door that was left open to welcome guests. Stepping into the doorway, she looked out over St Ives.

Seagulls were still screaming overhead, the sound of people down by the beach hung in the air all throughout the day, it smelled of seafood and summer, and just beyond the small town, on a tiny hilltop and on the very tip of a cliff, stood a lighthouse. A white lighthouse that rose high above the whole coast around it, protecting everyone. Locals, foreigners, and sailors. And it was operated and taken care of by the bloke Y/N was going to spend her entire summer in a fake relationship with. It didn’t seem real, and yet, that was exactly what it was. She didn’t have Harry’s number and knew next to nothing about him, but – as he put it – he lived in the very tall, pointy house on the outskirts of town. It was impossible to miss it. She could find her way to him, even in the dark.

The lighthouse keeper, Y/N thought to herself as she took in the lighthouse again through the window of her room once she walked upstairs. I have to pretend to be in love with a lighthouse keeper. And somehow, Y/N realised when looking back on that particular summer, that wasn’t the weirdest thing that would happen to her in St Ives.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 2 August, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic 🌊 @bopbopstyles 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @honeydearly 🌊 @juliassgem 🌊 @summerfeelng 🌊 @sunflower--styles 🌊 @withallthelove-a 🌊

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #het fic #1dff #PLS DO COME CHAT WHEN YOU'RE DONE READING I LOVE YOU SO MUCH :DDDDDDD

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bibbawrites · 3 years

Text

Life Is A Highway - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 9 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES, YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS HERE

Request: none

Word Count: 4397 words

Summary: Part 9 of Single Dad!Charlie, Margaux and Charlie roadtrip to Oklahoma for the JATP streaming party

Warnings: swearing, sexual references pretty sure everyone knows at this point but this does include romantic chowen, remember this is fictional, if you dont like that just dont read :)

A/N: correct me if i’m wrong but i’m pretty sure this is the longest part of this series so far, it got a bit out of control lol set at the end of january when charlie and jeremy joined owen in oklahoma, this is charlie and marguax’s trip there and the day leading up to the streaming party days also in this owen didnt move into the studio apartment, he moved into a slightly larger version of his current apartment :) anyways, hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-magnificent @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @fandomxreaders @ifilwtmfc @yagorlemmalyn

“Daddy?” Margaux piped up from her car seat. Charlie glanced in the mirror. They had been in the car for almost 14 hours now, with only a few short stops for lunch and toilet breaks, and it was almost time for them to stop for the night.

“Yeah baby? You hungry?” Charlie questioned, and Margaux nodded.

“A little bit, but can we listen to Julie?” She gave him a small grin, and Charlie smiled, reaching for his phone to bring up the Julie and the Phantoms album, and stop his country music playlist.

“Of course we can. Which song?” He asked.

“Umm.” Margaux trailed off. “Great!”

Charlie chucked to himself, turning the song on and glancing at his daughter every so often as she happily sung along to the song. Margaux was obsessed with Julie and the Phantoms, her favourite character was Alex and she often requested to be dressed in pink just to match him. Charlie was actually quite surprised it had taken her this long to request the album.

The GPS told him to pull off at the next exit if he wanted to stop at the motel he had planned to, so Charlie obeyed, his focus going back onto the driving as Margaux happily belted Stand Tall from her car seat.

No more than 20 minutes later Charlie was pulling into the carpark of a small motel and parking, before turning in his seat to see Margaux.

“We’re gonna stay here tonight, okay? And then drive the rest of the way to Papa’s tomorrow.” He told her, and she peered out of the window.

“A hotel!” Margaux exclaimed excitedly. Charlie chuckled slightly, looking at the run down motel they had stopped at. It was far from the exciting ‘hotel’ Margaux saw it as, but he loved how her childhood innocence could make it seem like the most incredible place she had ever seen.

“Yeah baby. We’ll go in and have a bath and then maybe we’ll go find some food to eat, how does that sound?” He smiled and Margaux nodded.

“Good.” She agreed.

“Okay good, let’s go in then.” Charlie pulled his mask on and reached across to the passengers seat for the bag he had packed their essentials for the night in, and placed it on his back once he climbed out of the car. He walked around the car, opening up Margaux’s door and getting the four year old out of her seat and lifting her into his arms.

“Gotta go talk to the people.” He told her, locking the car and heading into the reception to book one night, letting them know that they would be leaving before the sun rose in the morning.

Once they had the key Charlie and Margaux headed back out into the early evening and found their room, entering it easily. Charlie placed Margaux down once he had shut the door behind them, and the four year old ran over to the window instantly, peering out of it like she did with every place they stayed at.

Charlie smiled, throwing the bag down onto the bed and sitting down, pulling his mask off.

“Do you wanna have a bath before we go get dinner baby?” He questioned.

“No.” Margaux replied simply. Charlie laughed.

“Can I at least change you into some warmer clothes?” He asked, and Margaux thought for a moment before nodding, coming over to her father and letting him change her into the long, fluffy pants and hoodie he had pulled out of the bag, and when she was done, placed a tiny beanie on her head.

Charlie grinned.

“Okay, what do you want for dinner? Anything you want.” He said, pulling her onto his lap, and she snuggled closer, thinking.

“Um...” Margaux trailed off. “Burger King!”

Charlie stood up, shifting Margaux to his hip and putting his mask back on before grabbing the car keys.

“Burger King it is then. Let’s go find some dinner.”

They found a Burger King with no trouble at all, and entered the restaurant, Charlie quickly heading to the counter and ordering, before moving off to the side to wait, while Margaux cuddled into his arms, her head on his shoulder as she watched the workers preparing the food.

“Charlie?” A female voice came from behind them, and Charlie spun around to find a young girl, no older than 16, and who he assumed to be her mother.

“Hi.” He smiled, suddenly very aware of the weight of Margaux on his hip. He really tried to avoid having interactions with fans with her around, he never knew what one of them might share about his daughter, and her safety was his first priority always.

“Oh my gosh it’s really you! Hi! I’m such a big fan of Julie and the Phantoms.” The girl exclaimed, and Charlie grinned.

“Aw thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He said sincerely,

“Oh she loves it. Made the whole family watch it. It’s all she ever talks about.” The girl’s mother chimed in and Charlie chuckled.

“Mum.” The girl groaned slightly, but her mother was undeterred, shifting her attention to the four year old in Charlie’s arms, who had moved her head to continue watching the workers.

“Is this little one yours? I didn’t know you had a child.” The mother asked, and Charlie bit his lip slightly at the question.

“Yeah she is. I don’t like to bring her up much, I prefer to keep her life as private as possible.” Charlie told her and the woman nodded, an understanding smile on her face. As if she knew they were talking about her, Margaux lifted her head off Charlie’s shoulder, turning to look at her dad, before focusing on the two strange faces in front of her.

“Oh you’re such a cutie.” The woman complimented and Margaux grinned, snuggling her head into Charlie’s neck.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, and Charlie grinned. It was a rare sight to see Margaux shy around strangers, the little girl was normally one to be confident. Clearly when she was sleepy it was a different story.

“4341?” The girl behind the counter called and Charlie glanced down at the receipt in his hand, seeing it was his number.

“That’s us, excuse me for a moment.” He said, before walking over to the counter to grab the food.

“You keep this safe baby.” Charlie handed the bag to Margaux who nodded eagerly, clearly excited with the job she had been give.

Charlie turned back to the girl serving, taking the drinks from her and smiling despite the fact she couldn’t see it through his mask.

“Have a lovely evening.” She said, and he nodded.

“You too.” He replied, walking back over to the young fan and her mother.

“We’re gonna head out, but before I go, did you want to take a photo or something?” Charlie questioned, and the girl shook her head.

“No it’s okay, she looks really comfy and I wouldn’t want to disrupt her.” She said, glancing at Margaux who had the bag clutched to her chest and her head back on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Charlie checked, and the girl nodded.

“Yeah positive, I have the memories. And don’t worry, if I mention meeting you I won’t mention the little one.” She told him, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” He said, and she smiled.

“No problems at all. Have a good night.” She replied.

“You too, it was lovely meeting you. Both of you.” Charlie said, his tone genuine.

With one last goodbye Charlie and Margaux headed out of the restaurant and back to his car, placing the drinks on the front seat before moving to put Margaux in her car seat.

“Who was that Daddy?” She asked as he buckled her in, placing the bag of food back on her lap so that she could continue her special job.

“Just some friends baby.” He told her. Margaux nodded slightly.

“Okay... Can I have my nuggets now?” She asked, and Charlie chuckled, shutting her door and climbing into the drivers seat.

“As soon as we get back baby.” He promised. “As soon as we get back.”

Charlie was up before the sun the next morning, packing the bag and putting it in the car before taking a still sleeping Margaux and checking out.

He clipped Margaux into her seat gently, trying not to disturb her, and decided to go live for a few minutes before he left the motel while he ate some breakfast quickly, angling the camera so that Margaux couldn’t be seen. And then as he pulled out of the car park he ended live, opting to play music quietly instead.

Margaux slept for hours, and by the time she woke up they were only a couple of hours out of Oklahoma.

“Daddy?” Her voice came from the backseat, and Charlie grinned, looking at her through the mirror.

“Hey! Good morning baby. Did you sleep well?” He said, and Margaux nodded.

“Yeah, I was dreaming that we were in a boat and there was a horsey there and he was really mean but then you told him not to be mean and he said sorry and I got to play with him.” Margaux rambled sleepily, and Charlie smiled softly.

“That sounds really good baby.” He said and Margaux made a noise in response.

“Are we gonna be there soon?” She asked, and Charlie glanced at the GPS.

“About two more hours.” He told her, and Margaux frowned.

“Is that a small time?” She questioned. Charlie chuckled slightly before answering her.

“It’s a little bit long but not much. We’ll be seeing Papa before you know it.”

Just over two hours and one late lunch and toilet break later, Charlie pulled into the parking garage of Owen’s apartment building, using the code that Owen had sent him, and parked in front of Owen’s new car.

“Ready?” He asked, turning in his seat only to find Margaux fast asleep again, her favourite toy penguin clutched in her arms.

He chucked slightly, climbing out of the car and walking around to lift Margaux out of her seat gently, so that he wouldn’t wake her.

He shut the door and locked it, walking over to the stairwell and putting in a different code. He carried her up the stairs and wandered along a hallway until he reached the door of Owen’s apartment, knocking gently.

The door opened revealing Owen, and his eyes lit up when he saw Charlie and Margaux on the other side.

“Hey!” He whispered, and Charlie grinned.

“Hey, missed you.” He replied. Owen pulled them into the apartment.

“I have a room for Maggie, but I want you to see it when she sees it so we’ll put her on my bed for now.” Owen said, dragging Charlie down the hallway to his room, where Charlie placed Margaux down onto the bed, tucking her in and kissing the top of her head gently.

“Sounds good. You can watch her and I’ll go grab the bags and bring them up.” Charlie said once he had stood back up. Owen smiled, glancing down at Margaux before looking back up at Charlie.

“Okay.” He agreed, and Charlie turned to leave the room, but was stopped by Owen’s voice.

“Hey Charlie?” He said, and Charlie turned back.

“Yeah?” He questioned.

Owen stepped closer, placing a soft kiss to Charlie’s cheek.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

An hour later and Margaux was awake again and bouncing off the walls with excitement and energy.

“Can I see it now?” She begged, jumping on the spot in front of Owen, and Charlie regretted letting her have a cup of Fanta with her late lunch.

“Okay, you ready?” Owen agreed, and Margaux cheered. Owen led them to a door off to the side of where his bedroom was, and Charlie smiled at the clearly handmade name plate on the door, with Maggie written in a neat pink cursive.

“Open it, open it!” Margaux begged, grabbing onto Charlie’s leg with excitement, and Owen obeyed, opening the door to reveal a small bedroom, painted a soft pastel pink. There was a white bed in the middle of the room, and fairy lights strung around, and a bookshelf filled with children’s books. And in the corner was a small wooden chest, clearly filled with toys.

“Do you like it?” Owen asked nervously. Margaux’s face lit up and she rushed into the room, instantly jumping on the bed.

“I wanna stay here forever!” She exclaimed, and Charlie grinned, wrapping an arm around Owen.

“I’d say that’s a yes.” He joked, and Owen bit his lip.

“But do you like it?” He asked, eyes full of hope. Charlie nodded.

“I love it. You didn’t have to do this much for her though.” He said softly, glancing around the room as Margaux excitedly explored.

“I wanted to. Remember what you told me in Hawaii? That I’m her parent too and that we’re a little family? Well this is what a parent would do.” Owen shrugged slightly and it took everything in Charlie not to kiss Owen in that moment.

“Thank you.” He whispered instead, and Owen bit his lip, hesitating like he wanted to say something but ultimately decided against it. Eventually he settled on a small smile.

“Any time.”

Later that night Margaux was tucked into her new bed after finally coming down from the excitement and slight sugar high. Charlie and Owen had showered, and had made themselves comfortable in Owen’s bed, Charlie’s head on Owen’s chest as the younger boy flicked through Netflix, trying to find them something to watch.

“This okay?” Owen asked after a moment and Charlie hummed in agreement, not even checking what Owen had decided on, too content with listening to Owen’s heartbeat.

The movie started in the background, but Charlie’s whole focus was on Owen, and how much he had missed being snuggled up to the younger boy, the only scent a mixture of spearmint, body wash and something so uniquely Owen. It was intoxicating.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Owen’s voice snapped him out of his daze, and he shifted slightly.

“Just really fucking missed you, that’s all.” Charlie mumbled, instantly relaxing when Owen’s fingers threaded through his hair.

“It was only a month.” Owen replied, and Charlie sighed.

“I know, but still. I wanna be with you all the time.” He said. Owen took a deep breath.

“About that...” He started. “I tried to tell you this at New Year’s but-”

“Daddy?” Margaux’s voice came, and Owen swore under his breath. Charlie sat up, whatever Owen was going to say would have to wait.

“What’s up baby?” He asked, as Margaux climbed up onto Owen’s bed and into her father’s arms.

“Missed you.” She mumbled, her face pressed into Charlie’s bare chest. “Wanna sleep here.”

“Okay but only for tonight, okay?” Charlie compromised, and Margaux nodded.

“Into bed then.” Charlie instructed, wriggling over to allow Margaux to slide into the bed between him and Owen.

“Sorry O, we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” Charlie said, and Owen sighed, but nodded nonetheless.

“Sounds good.” He mumbled, flicking the TV off and laying down on Margaux’s other side. Charlie frowned at the sudden darkness, but laid down anyways, reaching across Margaux to grab Owen’s hand, linking their fingers.

“Night O, love you.” He whispered.

“Love you too.” Owen whispered back after a moment. “And love you Maggie.”

“Love you Papa, love you Daddy.” Margaux chimed in.

“Love you baby girl.” Charlie finished, placing a kiss on Margaux’s head as the four year old shifted to grab onto him like a koala. Charlie wrapped an arm around her before snuggling closer to Owen.

This was it, he thought as he drifted off. This was his happy place.

The next day started with making pancakes, before moving into Margaux’s new room to play with some of her toys and get her used to the idea of sleeping in there alone.

Not much later Margaux decided she was hungry, and Charlie and Owen stood up to go chop up some fruit for the little girl.

Charlie trailed behind Owen as they headed into the kitchen, working in silence as they chopped the fruit up.

“I’m ready.” Owen blurted out. Charlie put down the knife and turned to him, confused.

“Huh?” He questioned. Owen took a deep breath.

“Staying with you at Christmas I realised that I’m ready. Ready to give this a shot, and call you my boyfriend, and kiss you whenever I feel like it and not just occasionally with an awkward apology afterwards. I was gonna tell you on New Years Eve but I got interrupted by the countdown, and then I left the next day and I lost the confidence to tell you, so I just didn’t. I didn’t realise it would be a whole month until I saw you again though. And then when I saw you yesterday I thought about telling you, but it felt like the wrong time. And then I tried to tell you last night but Maggie interrupted us and climbed into bed.” Owen paused. “So now I’m telling you, before anyone else can interrupt. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?” Charlie checked, and Owen nodded.

“There is something I want to add but I’m gonna wait until you agree to be my boyfriend.” He said, and Charlie couldn’t stop the large smile that appeared on his face.

“Owen I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since we were filming.” He replied, and Owen grinned.

“So that’s a yes then?” He asked.

Charlie stepped forward, crashing his lips against Owen’s. After a moment he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

“That’s a massive yes.” He whispered and Owen kissed him again, but pulled away just as Charlie tried to deepen the kiss, causing the older boy to whine.

“Before we get too caught up...” Owen trailed off. “I just want this to stay between us for a while, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s completely fine.” Charlie agreed, leaning in to kiss Owen once more but Owen pulled back.

“We can tell our families and friends when we’re ready, and I’d rather not tell the fans...” He rambled.

“Owen, I said it’s fine.” Charlie laughed, pulling Owen back in to kiss him again, a gentle peck on his lips. “Although I will warn you, Jeremy and Carolynn kinda already know that I’m in lo- that I liked you, and I’m pretty sure my mum knows too. Oh and Kenny was kinda cryptic in Hawaii, so I think he knows too.”

“My mum and sister know. I kinda had a breakdown one night and exploded the whole thing on them and admitted that I had feelings for you and that you had feelings for me and just told them everything.” Owen admitted. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“What did they say?” He questioned.

“That they already knew. Luka said it was obvious, and Mum told me that she knew from the minute I met you that I had a crush on you. She said she figured it out after bootcamp. I wish she’d told me, cause I didn’t figure it out til the wrap party for filming.” Owen said, grabbing a bowl and putting the fruit they had already cut into it.

“I figured it out at the aquarium. You know when we spent the whole day holding hands? And my stomach was just constantly in knots. And then that night when you went to bed, you kissed my cheek and it was like it just hit me.” Charlie took the bowl from Owen, and turned to leave the kitchen when Owen spoke again.

“Wait, are we gonna tell Margaux?” Owen questioned, and Charlie stopped, thinking.

“I think we should.” He said after a moment, and Owen nodded.

“Okay.” He agreed. “Let’s do it.”

Trying to figure out how to explain a relationship to a four year old was a difficult thing to do.

“Hey Mags? We have something to tell you.” Charlie started, once they were settled back into her room, the bowl of fruit in her lap. She looked up.

“Yeah?” Charlie took a deep breath.

“Papa and I are dating. Do you know what that means?” He asked. Margaux shook her head.

“No.” She said, eating a piece of apple quietly,

“It means Daddy is my boyfriend, and we like each other very much.” Owen tried to explain.

“Oh, I know that.” Margaux said, and both Owen and Charlie exchanged confused looks.

“How can you know? It only just happened.” Owen questioned.

“But you kissed Daddy at the airport.” Margaux frowned.

“Well, yeah... But we weren’t dating then.” Charlie said. Margaux put the apple back into the bowl and grabbed a piece of banana instead.

“Why?” She asked after a moment.

“Why what?” Charlie questioned.

“Why weren’t you?” She elaborated.

“Um...” Charlie hesitated. “We just hadn’t decided to yet.”

“Okay.” She went silent. “Can I have a boyfriend?”

“Absolutely not.” Charlie said, as Owen cackled with laughter, the serious mood evaporating.

“Why not?” Margaux pouted. “I want a boyfriend too.”

“You’re four!” Charlie exclaimed. Margaux nodded.

“Yeah! I’m a big girl now.” She stated. Charlie shook his head, trying to ignore Owen’s wheezing laughter beside him.

“No boyfriends. Or girlfriends.” Charlie said, and Margaux frowned but accepted the answer. A moment later her eyes lit up again as she looked up at Charlie.

“Are you gonna get married like Mamie and Pépère? And Uncle Jer and Aunty Care?” She questioned, and Owen sobered up quickly.

“Not yet.” He answered, and Charlie stared at him for a few moments, before shaking his head with a smile.

“Maybe one day.” Charlie added. Margaux seemed to like that answer.

“Okay.” She said, grabbing a chunk of watermelon from the bowl.

“Margaux you can’t tell anyone that we’re dating, okay? It’s a secret.” Charlie said seriously, and Margaux grinned, her mouth full of fruit.

“Okay! I’m a good secret keeper.” She mumbled and Charlie smiled.

“You are.” He agreed.

“After my fruit can we watch Julie?” She questioned, and both boys smiled in agreement.

“Of course we can.” Charlie agreed, taking Owen’s hand in his.

His boyfriend’s hand.

Charlie was never going to get tired of that.

Jeremy arrived bright and early the next morning, bringing McDonalds breakfast for all of them.

“Uncle Jeremy!” Margaux squealed, jumping down from her spot on a chair at the bench, while Charlie made himself coffee, and rushing over to greet the third phantom.

“Hey Little Gillespie!” Jeremy replied with just as much excitement, ruffling the four year old’s hair as she clung to his leg. “I missed you.”

“Look how big I got.” Margaux boasted, puffing her chest.

“So much bigger, I almost didn’t recognise you.” Jeremy agreed, and Margaux giggled to herself.

“Daddy says I can’t have a boyfriend.” She informed Jeremy, who laughed.

“I don’t blame him.” He said, heading into the kitchen to place the food on the bench.

“But I want a boyfriend.” Margaux whined, trailing after him.

“Not happening.” Charlie stated, helping her back onto the chair and opening the McDonalds bag.

“So Little Gillespie, if you did get a boyfriend who would it be?” Jeremy asked, taking food from Charlie to place on the bench.

“Hmm...” Margaux paused, her eyes lighting up after a moment. “Tay!”

“Tay as in Taylor Kare?” Charlie questioned and Margaux nodded.

“Yeah!” She giggled. Charlie sighed, dropping his head onto the bench. Jeremy laughed, patting him on the back.

“Or Papa.” Margaux added, a thoughtful look on her face.

“You’re gonna have to fight your dad for that one.” Jeremy joked, and Charlie shook his head, smiling, as he handed Margaux a hashbrown.

“Fight her dad for what?” Owen questioned, entering the room.

“To be your boyfriend.” Jeremy informed him as Owen grabbed one of the cups of orange juice.

“Oh, you told him?” Owen asked, and Charlie’s eyes widened.

“No.” He said softly and Owen choked on his juice.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath.

“Wait so you’re actually dating now?” Jeremy asked, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“Shh! Not allowed to tell.” Margaux exclaimed. Owen sighed.

“It’s okay Maggie, he knows now.” He told her. Margaux looked up at Charlie eagerly.

“Did I keep the secret good Daddy?” She questioned. Charlie smiled, placing a gentle kiss on her head.

“You did an amazing job baby.” He agreed.

“So, how long?” Jeremy asked, taking a bite of his bacon and egg McMuffin.

“Yesterday. Although it would have been longer if the stupid New Years countdown didn’t interrupt me telling Charlie that I was ready to give things a shot.” Owen said, picking at the hotcakes he had chosen.

“Wow, Care and I assumed it would happen a lot earlier than that, after how things were in Hawaii.” Jeremy told them, and Owen shook his head.

“It was my fault, I wasn’t ready to commit to doing anything that might ruin our friendship. It wasn’t until after Christmas Eve when we fu...” Owen trailed off, realising what he was about to say probably wasn’t appropriate. “We uh, yeah, that I figured we were already too far gone and that I really didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“And now I know far too much about your s-e-x life.” Jeremy groaned and Margaux squinted at him.

“What does that spell?” She questioned, and Charlie grabbed another hashbrown for her.

“Nothing important baby.” He said quickly, handing her the hashbrown and effectively distracting her.

“Anyways, Jer, you can’t tell anyone. You’re the only one who knows, other than Maggie.” Owen told him seriously and Jeremy nodded.

“You have my word for it. One condition though.” He said, and Charlie and Owen both raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Please do not do any gross couple shit around me.” Jeremy sighed. “I do not need to see you two sucking each others faces.”

“Ew.” Margaux mumbled through a mouthful of hashbrown. Charlie and Owen exchanged a look, clearly thinking the same thing.

“We’ll try.” Owen started.

“But we can’t make any promises.” Charlie finished.

Jeremy groaned slightly, his head falling into his hands as Charlie snaked an arm around Owen’s waist.

“It’s gonna be a long weekend, isn’t it?”

#single dad!charlie #single dad!charlie series #single dad!charlie x owen #charlie gillespie #owen patrick joyner #chowen

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 3 years

Text

This Sarah Everard case is so terrifying for women. But not only am I terrified - I am furious.

⚠️ tw for mentions of r*pe, sexual assault, violence against women, murder etc. ⚠️

She was just walking, including walking by busy roads and not dark alleyways. She was dressed in winter clothes. Even if she HAD walked down a dark alleyway or been wearing something short or “revealing”, she still wasn’t doing anything wrong - she was just walking somewhere.

Her murderer - a police officer named Wayne Couzens - plotted to murder a woman to live out his perverse fantasy. He didn’t plot to kill a specific woman - he knew he would murder a woman, any woman he thought he could abduct, any woman who would be out at night on her own. Sarah was just there.

Not only did he drive miles and hours to kill a woman, not only was he a police officer… he used his badge, police belt, handcuffs and credentials to fake arrest her to get her into his car. If a police officer tells you to go with them, we’re told to not resist, to be obedient or we will be in even more trouble. Even if she HAD done what the MET have just said women should do - “question non uniformed officers!” - it wouldn’t have helped her because he was a police officer. He had the credentials. Why would she run away and resist a police officer? And if women do resist, the police commit violence against them (like at the Clapham Common vigil for Sarah).

He handcuffed her, drove her for hours, then raped and murdered her. This fucking monster strangled her with his fucking police belt. He burnt her body and disposed of her in a pond.

A police officer did this - a fucking police officer, a MET officer, the MET we’re supposed to trust. And you want women to trust them?!!

And I don’t want to hear that “don’t judge the whole profession based on one bad apple”, because guess what? This is not the first time a police officer has harmed a woman. There is misogyny rooted deep in the MET that needs to be addressed. Wayne Couzens was literally nicknamed “The Rapist” by other police officers and had offended in the past by flashing people, and that’s just what we know of - and yet not a single person did anything. The police joked about it. Several officers gave character references supportive of Couzens during the hearings for his sentencing, and female officers told the press that they did not feel as if they could report concerning behaviour by male colleagues.

It’s thought that at LEAST 15 serving or former police officers have killed women in UK since 2009, and HUNDREDS of UK police officers have convictions for crimes, including assault. There are many cases that do not go reported, and so it’s likely the numbers on both counts are actually higher. Why are they still allowed to serve? Why is our government giving them more power and freedom to arrest whoever they please? “It’s not that many” - IT SHOULD NOT BE ANY.

If you can’t see why there’s a huge problem with our police force and why we say “fuck the police”, you’re part of the problem.

And the fear and anger we feel isn’t new - this has been a problem for literally all of our lives.

At 11, I learnt to come home before dark, and if it was dark in the winter on my way home (meaning: every night in winter), I was taught to not go down any dark lanes, and if I was walking the dark lane I had to go down if I got the bus home, I was to walk as fast as I could and to not have earphones in because i wouldn’t hear attackers. Every day from September 2009 to July 2014, coming home from secondary school, I was told to either wait for my dad or grandad to pick me up or to walk down the busiest road that ran near my house and had constant cars on it. I couldn’t take the shortcut down the public footpath on my way home from sixth form college because it was too dark and isolated - I had to go around it and through the village instead, which took more time but was vaguely safer. Since university, I’ve made a point of waiting for the hourly bus that stops just round the corner from my home and on the busiest road, even though I have to wait up to an hour for it usually, because getting the bus that comes every 15 minutes means walking up the dark quiet lane.

At age 13, I learnt not to talk to even very friendly men, even not in broad daylight, even with a female friend, when some old man approached us and started complimenting us, telling us we had “nice smiles” and “I can hook you up with someone who can help you get into acting” and “here’s £10, you go down to the garage down the road and get whatever you girls want”.

At 14, I learnt not to sit in trees in the park by the gate, not even during the day when it’s sunny, when an old man entered the park, took one look at me, and said “you’ve got a nice arse”. I couldn’t prove he had said anything, and I would see him on my way to school sometimes and panic.

At 19, I learnt that I could not trust friendly men online. Apologies to any decent men I have spoken to online - there’s a few who are nice and not weird, I’m not talking about them. I learnt this when a guy I was speaking to on my old blog - who had for weeks just been generally nice and checking in on me - started to send intimate and sexual messages that started with “*hugs you*” and became “*spanks your ass*”, “takes your clothes off”, “f*cks you hard”, just to name a few (and these were the milder ones). When I asked his age, he merely said “older” than me - “more than twice as old as you”, actually. I learnt to not talk to men online, and if I did then I had to set very clear boundaries in a way that wasn’t too obvious - not say it outright but make it clear I am “unavailable”.

I have to carry a rape alarm on my keys, just in case. I could go out to bars if I wanted to, I could have at university when all my peers were - but doing it meant risking the chance of being harmed while intoxicated or on my way home. I have to send my location to my mother if I get any Ubers, if I go out to theatres or cinemas in the evening I have to text my mum to say I’ve arrived safe. I only feel safe out at night if I’m with a man that I trust like my dad or grandad - I got very lucky at Uni because not only did one girl make sure I got home safely at 1 in the morning by calling me a cab, but one boy even stayed with me on another night until my dad arrived to pick me up, because he knew leaving me intoxicated at 2:30 in the morning was dangerous. I have even phoned my grandmother while walking home in the dark because being on the phone to someone means you’re less of a target to an attacker.

Men do not have this experience - or, if they do, it’s nowhere near the fear and worry women feel every day. Women can’t even walk somewhere without being worried of being attacked - we cannot go anywhere without asking ourselves “am I safe?”. Are we wearing the “correct” clothing, so as to not give off the wrong idea? Are we walking down the well lit roads where it’s busy? Are we aware of our surroundings, of every single person nearby? Do I have my keys in my hand, ready to defend myself if I’m attacked? Women are blamed if we are attacked - not men, but women. “She was dressed slutty” “she was passed out drunk” “she was walking down a dark lane” “she was out late”.

When doing safe guarding training at my current TA job, I came across this phrase: “always think it can and will happen”. Just as a teacher or TA should not think “none of my students will be victims of abuse”, women should not for one second believe that they are safe and “it will never happen to me” - every day we have to think of how to prevent our own assault or murder, just in case.

Every time I’m walking home in the dark, I have the fleeting wonder of “what picture(s) of me will they use if I’m attacked or go missing?”. I was not really surprised when I saw that other women said the same thing. Women wonder it so often it’s almost a joke, an absent minded thought. But it’s not a joke - it’s real life for us, every single day.

Sarah Everard is not a one off case. Sabina Nessa, a 28 year old primary school teacher, was murdered on 18th September this year, her body discovered the next day by a dog walker. So far in 2021, 110 women have been murdered in the UK by men (or men are the prime suspects). Only a handful get national attention because at this point, violence and murder against women have become normalised in this country.

I am not only heartbroken for all of these women and their families - I am scared for my own safety; I am scared for the safety of my mother, my grandmother, my aunts. I am scared for the safety of my 20 year old sister, the safety of my 17 and 14 year old cousins, for the safety of my older male cousin’s two daughters who are only 4 and 1. I am scared for the safety of every single girl and woman I have worked with, the safety of every woman I have ever spoken to.

But I am also furious and filled with rage. Women should not be scared to go out or have fun, we should not have to take such precautions or measures that still won’t completely prevent our assaults or murders. I am sick and tired of the victim blaming when a woman is murdered, of the indifference of “oh another woman”, of this being how women are expected to live their lives.

I’m tired of this problem being ignored by our government, tired of no one giving a shit about us or our safety.

#sarah everard #wayne couzens #tw violence against women #tw rape discussion #tw crime #tw murder #tw assault #tw rape #tw police murder #tw police brutality

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dcforts · 3 years

Text

[day 4: cooking and baking]

Now, Bobby Singer didn’t always exactly enjoy having Sam and Dean around – he was used to living alone and he liked his routine; they got loud when they bickered and he always had to make sure they were clean and fed and far from the stuff he had laying around that they weren’t supposed to touch.

He never wanted to be a father after all, nor get stuck running a daycare for hunters for that matter, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to John whenever he asked, even if he had his garage to run and hunting on the side.

He felt bad for them. He might have known nothing about raising children, but he sure knew that they were supposed to have a home, not to be dragged across the country in an old car, exposed to all kinds of dangers.

So, if washing an extra set of bedsheets and hiding his booze and getting a headache or two from their feet stomping upstairs meant giving them a roof over their head for a few days, a familiar place where to feel safe and proper food in their belly – if one could count canned soup as proper food – then he could bite the bullet.

And they were good kids, they always did what he told them and never complained about anything.

Even when one year they got stuck at his place on Christmas Eve. The air was heavy around the dinner table and Bobby had turned on the tv in an attempt to liven up the atmosphere and distract them. Still, they remained quiet, hunched over their plates wearing gloomy faces.

Their father was supposed to pick them up but he’d called and said he wasn’t gonna make it. Bobby knew it was gonna happen as soon as he’d heard the phone ringing that afternoon.

"But it’s Christmas!” he’d hissed angrily trying not to be heard by the kids, “What am I supposed to tell them?”

“Uh - I don’t know, Bobby," John had replied, with that tone he got when he was uninterested in what you were saying and had already uncorked one too many beers. "It’s just this one time.”

When Bobby had delivered the news, Dean had shouted "Why hasn’t he called me?" and Sam had grumbled "You should have convinced him", so they most likely hated him too.

Bobby didn’t take it personally, if he were a kid he sure wouldn’t have liked to spend Christmas with someone like him and without his only parent.

Bobby didn’t do holidays at all. He hanged a wreath on the front door just cause he kept it in the hallway all year round. He made himself a turkey sandwich. He enjoyed a classic movie just as the next guy and he passed out on the couch with a glass of store-bought eggnog. That was it. It was not like he had anyone to share it with. It had been like that for years and he didn’t mind.

Knowing that the kids would be around though, he’d hanged on the window a string of lights he’d found in the basement and had put on display a weird looking statue of an elf - although if he wasn’t sure if it was Christmas related or just an old dark artifact. The boys had spared those things barely a glance and not brought up Christmas at all so Bobby had just figured that they didn’t do holidays either.

But then a commercial featuring a big holiday banquet came on tv for the umpteenth time, filling the kitchen with its obnoxious jingle and Dean finally spoke up.

“Hey Bobby,” he asked, tearing his eyes from the tv. “Did your mother ever bake for the holidays?”

Bobby didn’t even remember the last time he’d talked about his mother with anyone. It always brought up bittersweet memories he didn’t like to deal with. Still, he cleared his throat, “Sure,” he said, but now Sam was watching him too so he added, “she was a good baker - made a mean blueberry pie.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, and she’d always make two, one for everyone and another one just for me."

“A whole pie? Just for you?" Sam asked with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"I could eat that," intervened Dean immediately.

Bobby snorted, “Yeah, I know that, kid."

Dean smiled proudly, but then Sam said "You couldn’t, Dean. You’d get sick."

"No, I wouldn’t," he shot back.

"Yes, you would. Not even an adult can - "

"What do you know, if you never - ”

“I know - ”

Bobby groaned and got up from the table to start collecting the dirty dishes, "Alright, break it up".

They fell into silence again as he put the dishes in the sink and started washing them.

"Go get ready for bed."

He heard the scraping of chair legs on the floorboards, but he was still thinking about his mother and didn’t realize that only one pair of shoes had left the room and the other one had come to stand next to him.

"Does your oven work?" Dean said, making him jump.

"Wh- my oven? Yeah. Why?”

"Just ‘cause... you never use it," was his reply, a little unsure.

"That don’t mean it don’t work."

"Have you ever used it?”

"Can’t remember, honestly.”

"Mum used to bake pies for me too," Dean said then. "Sammy wasn’t there so he gets upset when I talk about it."

Bobby gave him half a smile. "Bet Mary's pies were the best, uh?”

"Yeah", he said, but he sounded thoughtful. He still made no move to leave and Bobby didn’t know what else to say. The last thing he wanted was to make the boy sad, or worse, make him cry for his mom.

He started working faster on drying those dishes.

"Maybe your father remembers the recipe. You should ask him,” he said, casually.

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Dean tugged the hem of his jacket and looked at him with the most scared expression Bobby had ever seen on him. “Don’t!" he said, "Please. Dad doesn’t like talking about these things. Don’t tell him I told you."

Bobby gritted his teeth and tried to not let his rage show on his face. He put down the rag and grabbed one of his shoulder, “It’s okay, Dean. I won’t.”

Dean gulped and quickly nodded and Bobby itched for a drink.

“Now go. It’s time for bed.”

"Yes, sir," said Dean.

“You don’t have to cal-” he started, then sighed, “Nevermind. Just go.”

As he heard the door upstair close he opened the highest cabinet and grabbed his bottle of scotch. He sat down to pour himself a glass, took his cap off and rubbed his forehead.

His hands tightened into fists at the thought of John. How could he leave them like that? What would’ve happened if he’d died on a hunt? Who would have cared for them? Bobby certainly couldn’t – John couldn’t possibly expect –

The tv was still on.

His second glass was already empty when that stupid holiday commercial with that stupid jingle came on once again. Annoyed, Bobby stood up to turn it off and that’s when Dean came to his mind and a thought hit him.

The kid wanted a damn pie.

He just didn’t know how to ask, or even if he could ask. And of course he would think that, with that father of his, his taboos and his rules. Bobby felt anger and stubborness rise in him.

If the kid wanted a goddamn pie, Bobby would’ve given him a goddamn pie. Even if he had to drive for miles at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day for blueberries.

And now where the fuck did he put Karen’s recipe book?

The morning after, he cracked the bedroom door open and Dean blinked awake as soon as he brushed his shoulder.

“Don’t wake your brother. Come downstairs," he whispered, motioning him to be quiet.

In the daylight Bobby was willing to admit that he was a little nervous about his idea.

Yet he couldn’t resist watching Dean’s face as he entered the kitchen ten minutes later and stopped in his track when he saw flour, eggs, sugar and blueberries lined up on the counter.

It was like his face couldn’t settle on an emotion. He frowned, smiled, frowned again. Then he just looked at Bobby as if he was asking him what he was supposed to do or say.

"I was thinking it’s about time I make that oven work again. What you say? Wanna bake your own pie?"

Dean surprised himself with a laugh. "But Bobby - I don’t – I never -"

"What, you think I do?" Bobby shrugged, "If it’s bad, we’ll just throw it out."

Dean seemed too overwhelmed to say anything. He just nodded.

Bobby went towards him. "See, I got this book here, it was my wife’s. We’re more than capable to follow a bunch of instructions, right?"

It took way longer than Bobby had anticipated, and surely longer than it generally took other people. And it wasn’t easy. At all. Not just because in the last few years he’d reduced his diet to mostly pre-cooked stuff, but especially for the smells that filled the kitchen and the long string of memories attached to them - Karen and his mom, guilt and comfort, sweetness and fear.

But Bobby went through all of it, the fishing out of the egg shells, the spilling of the flour, the hour long wait for the dough to set and the million questions Dean seemed to have – because the boy enjoyed himself.

Bobby was pretty sure of it, from the way he groaned in disgust as he dipped his hands in the mixture with raw eggs, in his cheeky face when he lied about stealing the blueberries they were using, in his clear laugh when Bobby slipped and almost crashed on the dirty floor; all of that made it worth it.

When the oven door was closed and the timer was set, he even sat cross-legged on the tiles to watch it as it baked.

Bobby moved around him to clean the mess they’d made and then went to wash himself up. When he looked himself in the bathroom mirror he saw flour all over his beard and bits of dough on his flannel. He found himself smiling a little.

He might not be able to bring the boys the spirit of Christmas or whatever crap they sold these days, but he would’ve been be satisfied if he managed to make them happier for half a day.

Dean started pounding on the door right in that moment. “Bobby!” he was shouting, “The timer! Hurry up! We need to get it out!”

Bobby’s reflection rolled his eyes and sighed. “Coming!” he shouted back and heard Dean running away again.

When he entered the kitchen half a minute later, Sam had joined Dean in front of the oven. He was still in his pyjamas and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “Dean’s screams woke me up,” he said.

“Yeah, alright. I’m here, let me through and step back. I don’t want you to get burned.”

As carefully as possible, he took the pie out under the scrutinizing gaze of the brothers. As he sat it on the table he noticed the uneven colour of the crust and the filling that had spilled all over the sides and through the cracks. He made a face. “Well - doesn’t look half bad as far as first attempts go -" he tried to say but his words were drowned by the boys shouting “Whoa!”

"It smells so good," said Dean, wearing a proud smile.

"It’s perfect," said Sam with the solemnity of a renown critic. "Can we try it now?"

"Let’s give it a moment to cool down. You go get dressed. Dean, go wash your hands."

They both sprinted in different directions. Sam immediately ran up the stairs banging a hand on the banister in excitement. Dean bolted in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.

“Be careful!” he thundered.

They both shouted back at once: “Yes, Uncle Bobby!”

A rush of affection washed over him. He shook his head looking down at their pie.

“Merry Christmas kids.”

joining @bend-me-shape-me in this!

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 #spn fanfiction #christmas at bobby's #bobby singer #2k #he does his best - i love him #sam and dean are 7 and 11 i guess #john winchester a+ parenting #i know that im kinda obsessed w bobby but i was thinking that #apart from the kitchenettes in motel rooms #bobby's kitchen was the only real one the boys got to see #maybe pastor jim's ?? we never saw that thought #honestly i have no idea if this fits into canon #but when dean was 10 bobby played catch w him so - why not #also im obsessed w bobby hating john because he sees his abusive father in him #my writing #bobbyverse

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irishseeeker · 3 years

Link

the story of us

summary: Five times Kate Sheffield and Anthony Bridgeton were just friends and one time they were more.

find chapter 1 here or here

------

chapter 2: I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Anthony Bridgerton’s summer gets significantly better the minute Kate Sheffield steps off the train.

He’d been abroad for the first two weeks of the summer with friends from university, Kate had only come for a few days before she went away with Mary and her sister, and he returned to England to wait out the rest of the summer with his family. He couldn’t stay away for too long, the guilt of leaving his mother and siblings alone would nag at him until he couldn’t focus on anything else. They needed him.

When they hugged on the platform, the familiar, comforting scent of lilies and soap filled his nostrils and he felt this calm feeling seep deep into his bones.

He’d missed her.

When they broke apart, he took her suitcase and he raised an eyebrow at the bouquet of red roses tied up with brown paper and a ribbon.

“Aw, did you get me flowers?” He teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He snorted loudly.

“They’re for your mum, dipshit.”

He pulled up her suitcase’s handle, beginning to wheel it and walk with her off the platform. “Charming. What did you get me?”

“Oh, this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her middle finger, smirking as she waved it at him.

They walked out of the train station and towards his car. It was a quiet station, right in the middle of the countryside. The main station was in the middle of town, which was a twenty minute drive.

He pressed a button on his car keys and the boot automatically opened. He was driving their Range Rover, one of their bigger cars for the country. They always spent the summer at their country home Aubrey Hall in Kent, leaving London for most of the summer.

The countryside used to be his favourite place.

Now, it just reminded him of his father. Every room and the long hallways were plagued with memories. Memories that would only grow older. His father wouldn’t. His father would never be a part of another memory.

“Jesus, did you pack your entire wardrobe in here?” He huffed as he bent down, putting his weight onto his knees as he hauled her suitcase into the boot.

She scoffed. "You brought at least six suitcases to university.”

They climbed into the car, Anthony clicked in his seatbelt. He turned to glance at Kate, who was tying her hair back in a plait. The golden sun shone through the window, lighting up Kate’s face and dotting it with subtle sparkles.

It suddenly became quite hard to breathe.

“Anthony?”

Her timid voice snapped him out of his daze, turning to her. “Yeah?”

Kate was frowning at him, her nose wrinkling like it always did. “You’re staring. Is there something on my face?”

“I wasn’t staring,” He mumbled, turning on the car and avoiding her eyes. “We better get back. Mum will kill me if we’re late for lunch.”

“I hope your mum hasn’t gone to too much trouble,” Kate murmured, fiddling with her hands with a nervous expression on her face. He knew that look, he had seen it a lot over the past two years. She was biting her bottom lip, which was an unwelcome distraction while he was driving. “It’s so nice of her to let me stay.”

He had been with Kate for five minutes and his mind was already drifting there.

It started a few weeks ago.

He had a dream.

It had started out relatively normal. He was laying on his bed, naked, wrapped in a white sheet. He wasn’t alone.

A woman was with him. A naked woman, her long legs covered by the white sheet. He couldn’t tell who she was at first, laying flat on her stomach tucked against his side.

He notices the dark curls first.

Anthony wraps a thick strand around his hand, watching it slowly twirl around his fingers and wrist. He can see the sharp edge of her jawline, the flutter of her long eyelashes and the fullness of her rose tinted lips.

All of her features form a face.

Kate.

Her face is carved into his memory. He can’t stop thinking about the sprinkle of dark freckles across her nose, the slight pink tint to her cheeks and the delicate leanness of her fingers as they stroked his cheek.

It’s like he never truly saw her before and now she’s all he can see.

The dream always ended the same way. Kate slowly moves on top of him, her hands on either side of his face as her body pressed against his, chest against chest. She leans down slowly, their lips inches apart-

He always wakes up the same way-panting and sweating.

At first, he thought it didn’t mean anything. Kate may be the first woman he had a platonic relationship with that he wasn’t related to and having a sexual dream about her didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t mean anything.

But-

He kept having the same dream.

The woman was always Kate.

It was ruining his life.

It’s not like he had never noticed Kate. He wasn’t blind. She had always been beautiful. Anthony had just never thought of her that way. He had never allowed himself too.

Kate was his best friend. Kate had sat down in the same tutorial as him and quickly began to argue with him and he had been stuck ever since.

He wouldn’t lose her because of his behavior. His track record with women had been treacherous and Anthony knew it was mostly his fault.

Something had died inside of him when his father did and he had accepted that. It wasn’t fair to expect others to as well. He was emotionally unavailable and he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Siena had proven that.

That painful disaster wasn't something he planned to repeat.

He couldn’t fix himself. There was a part of him that would always be broken.

Anthony realized he hadn’t responded to Kate, so he asked her about her trip. He knew most of the details, they had facetimed nearly every day since they had been apart.

Kate had suddenly appeared in his life and she had remained there ever since. It still frightened him, how in two years she had become so vital. Kate had become his anchor. He never intended for her to happen but it was out of his control. Kate had fit into his life in a way no one else had since his father had.

She was the first person in a long time Anthony felt understood him. There had only been one other person who ever could and he had died.

Kate had lost her dad too. It wasn’t a taboo topic between them. They could speak openly about who they had lost and they understood each other.

He didn’t have to be anything for her. He didn’t have to be her emotional support person like he had to for his mother. He didn’t have to be a surrogate father like he did for his siblings. He didn’t have any pressurizing responsibilities like he did in every other part of his life and he didn’t have to put on a false façade that he was fine and everything was fine.

Anthony would do anything for Kate, he just didn’t have to. It was a comforting thought that lifted the heavy weight off his shoulders just a little.

He had survived two years without crossing that line with Kate.

His subconscious had decided to take it upon itself and do it for him. It was as if a switch inside of his brain had flicked and it was all he could think about. Thinking of Kate in that way.

Lately, Kate was all he could think about.

He was convinced his subconscious was playing tricks on him-if something was meant to happen between them, it would have.

It didn’t matter, in the end.

Kate would never see him in that way. Kate had always been hard to read but he had become accustomed to seeing through the cracks in her built up walls and he was certain she would never feel anything for him but friendship.

He could live with that.

He just couldn’t live without her.

“Here we are,” He said, nodding his head towards the house as they pulled up at the two black iron gates guarding the property. He pushed on the break, reaching out the window to type in the key code to open the gates. “Aubrey Hall.”

“Wow,” Kate said, leaning forward towards the dashboard as they drove up the long pebbled driveway towards the house. “It’s beautiful. It’s finally time to meet the Bridgertons.”

Anthony let out a low chuckle, nodding his head. He didn’t doubt for a second Kate knew every little detail he had told her about all of his siblings, he did talk about them a lot. She had met Benedict and Colin a few times when they visited Oxford and had seen Benedict quite a bit once he became a student himself but she had never met his younger siblings or his mother.

He had never brought anyone to Aubrey Hall before.

His mother, of course, appeared at the front door as soon as the car came to a stop. He didn’t doubt she had been waiting at the window, peeking behind their curtains for them to arrive. Violet Bridgerton had been asking a lot of questions about Kate since Anthony had asked if she could come to stay.

His mother didn’t ask questions without insinuations behind them.

Benedict and Colin had found it particularly amusing, taking every opportunity to take the piss out of Anthony. They gleefully egged on their mother’s eagerness of meeting Anthony’s potential girlfriend despite Anthony reminding his family daily Kate was his friend.

Apparently, he talked about Kate a lot. He obviously disagreed, which made Ben and Colin tease him further. What fun things do you have planned for you and Kate when she comes, Anthony? A romantic picnic in the gardens? What would Kate say about that, Anthony? Aw, didn’t you and Kate do that Anthony? Anthony, are you feeling okay? You haven’t talked about Kate in five minutes. The girls had even joined in. Even Frannie, his sworn ally, had teased him a little.

Traitor.

He was adamant he did not talk about Kate that much.

It was a perfectly normal amount.

They got out of the car and Violet walked towards them, ignoring Anthony as she pulled Kate into a hug. “Kate, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Please, come in! Anthony, get her bags darling.”

“Miss Bridgerton, it is so nice to meet you. Thank you so much for having me,” Kate said, handing her the bouquet of tulips and a gift bag. “It’s not much, but I hope you like them.”

“Kate, we have heard so much about you.” Violet Bridgerton smiled at her and gasped at the gifts, ignoring Anthony’s glare at her jibe and Benedict’s snort from the doorway. “Oh! You shouldn’t have. Thank you so much. These are gorgeous, I’ll have to get a vase-girls, stop that right now! Excuse me, dear.”

Daphne and Eloise were on their third argument of the day, right on schedule. They quickly shut up and ran away from their scowling mother who was charging towards them.

They all watched Violet in amusement before turning back to each other, and Benedict grinned at Kate and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Katharine.”

“Benedict.” Kate chimed back at him, reaching up to squeeze his cheek. “You’re so grown up.”

Benedict turned to smirk at Anthony, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Anthony has been counting down the days until you arrive. Marking them off that little corgi calendar you gave him, bless his little heart-”

Kate gasped, turning to Anthony delighted. It made something inside of his chest flutter a little. “You’re using the calendar?”

Anthony shrugged, trying to appear unbothered. “It’s practical. The girls liked the pictures.”

“Ben, I hope you’re not taking the piss out of our brother without me.”

Lord give him strength.

Colin, his 18 year old brother who was about to set off travelling on his gap year in a few weeks, strolled into the room. His brown hair was sticking up in all directions and he probably just woke up.

Benedict, smug as ever, turned to smirk at his younger brother. “I was only warming up.”

“Hey, Kate.” Colin grinned easily at her, crossing his arms as he joined them. “Don’t lie, Anthony. The girls liked looking at it for a few minutes. I drew a penis on it one time and you got all moody-”

Anthony narrowed his eyes at his brothers.“I will murder you, you know that right?”

Kate glanced between the three brothers, looking highly amused. “This is going to be fun.”

Deciding he had had enough of his brothers for the afternoon and validly cautious of what else was going to come out of their mouths, he gestured towards the staircases. He nudged Kate along. “As delightful as this little catchup is, I’m going to show Kate her room.”

“Can we get you guys anything? A snack? A condom?” Colin called after them, Benedict and his snickering filling the hallway. Kate snorted from beside him, jogging up the steps.

Anthony threw the first thing he could grab, which happened to be one of Hyacinth’s tiny pink uggs. It narrowly avoided his great aunt’s blue clay pot on the hall table as it hit Colin smack on the head.

“I’d ask for one but then you’d actually have to be having some to need them, right Col?” Anthony winked at his brother who was rubbing his head, glaring at Anthony from across the hall. “Hang in there, mate.”

“I have plenty of sex, thank you very-”

“Colin Bridgerton!”

His mother had walked into the hallway just as her third youngest opened his mouth and landed himself right in it. Her jaw dropped open and Anthony took the opportunity, laughing at his squirming brother, to nudge Kate upstairs just as his mother started giving out to Colin.

“They’re idiots,” Anthony said, rolling his eyes as they walked along the first floor’s maroon carpet towards her bedroom. His eyes anxiously flicked towards Kate, hoping they could ignore the awkward mention of condoms.

He was going to kill Colin later.

“Funny idiots,” Kate agreed, smiling at him as her eyes moved around the hallway and the painting and pictures on the walls. All of the siblings were on the first floor, except for Gregory and Hyacinth who were on the second floor with their mother.

“I’ll give you a tour later, let's just drop off your stuff first.” He opened the door to the guest room, that would someday be Gregory’s room-it was right opposite his bedroom. “Here we are. I’m just across the hall.”

“This place is incredible. It’s so beautiful,” Kate said, turning to him with a teasing smile. She dramatically bowed, her long dark hair flipping over her head and back as she stood up. “Lord Bridgerton.”

“Fuck right off,” Anthony said, collapsing on the bed and Kate joined him. The familiar memorizing scent of lilies and soap filled his nostrils. Kate had looked up their families on an ancestry website last year and had found out Anthony was from a long line of nobility and had called him Lord Bridgerton for a solid month.

God, he had missed her.

He turned to her, flexing his biceps as he stretched his stiff arms over his head. “Are you happy to be home?”

She nodded, her chest moving up and down slowly as she relaxed on the bed. “I loved being away, but it’s so nice to be back and to be home. Did you get my postcards?”

The last person he had gotten a postcard from had been his grandmother when he was younger until Kate. She’d sent him a few from around Europe, from Rome to Paris, and he kept them all in the drawer beside his bed. He’d started eagerly checking the postbox everytime post had come once she had started sending them. “I did. They were great. They’re in my room. Otherwise, Gregory or Hyacinth would find them and colour them in. I loved the Amsterdam one.”

“I thought you would. Oh! I got you presents,” Kate said gleefully, pulling neatly wrapped bundles out of her bag as she sat up on the bed and crossed her legs. “They’re not much, but I thought you might like them.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Anthony said, completely stunned as he took the presents Kate eagerly handed him. She looked so excited and it made his stomach flutter uncomfortably.

It wasn’t butterflies. Anthony didn’t get butterflies. It was probably a digestion issue or something.

He unwrapped the first present, grinning at the perfectly neat wrapping. It was so Kate. Each corner was perfectly taped and folded properly. He unwrapped a small shot glass wrapped in bubble wrap.

“A shot glass, of course.”

He let out a low chuckle, “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Sheffield. Thank you, this is brilliant.”

The next present was a big box of foreign sweets and crisps, ones that reminded him of being on holiday. There was a mixture of haribos, chewy sweets from Spain and exotic crisp flavors that you could never get in England.

His mouth watered. He had an extreme sweet tooth and Kate was always pestering him to eat some fruit or vegetables. He’d smugly remind her he’d never had a cavity. “This is amazing. I’ll be hiding these from everyone or they’ll be gone in an hour.”

He unwrapped the next package which was an assortment of jams, of different colours and varieties.

She grinned as she pointed out the different flavors. “I thought you’d like them for when we go back to university. I know how much you love jam, I wouldn’t want you to starve. I got them in Normandy, at a farmer’s market. The pear one is unbelievable.”

Anthony had never been gifted in the kitchen. They’d been lucky to grow up with nannies and cooks, and both his parents had been talented in the kitchen-something that was not passed onto Anthony. Besides meals in the catering hall at university, Anthony had solely survived on toast with butter or jam before Kate took pity on him and started feeding him.

“This is the last and my favourite one.”

The package felt soft and he carefully unwrapped it, curiously pulling the little bag out of the paper. It was a brown leather case with a fine detail of stitching around the edge.

“It’s made out of Italian leather,” Kate explained, gesturing to the case. “It’s a case for your pocket watch, so you don’t break it. It can clip onto anything, so you’ll always have it.”

“Thank you,” He mumbled, looking oddly dazed. He reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out the silver chained pocket watch his father had passed onto him. It didn’t really make sense, having a pocket watch when watches and iPhones existed. It was old fashioned.

The watch had been passed through the Bridgertons for years and his father had loved it. He’d let Anthony play with it when he was younger until he had been given it on his eight birthday. It was one of the last things Anthony had of Edmund Bridgerton before he died.

He opened his mouth to say something, failing to find any words that could explain how grateful he was. The pocket watch slid into the case perfectly. “Kate. This is..this is amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kate said, smiling softly at him and lightly squeezing his arm. He was staring right into her soft brown eyes, full of warmth and kindness. She knew how much it meant to him and she had thought about him and got him this.

He wasn’t used to people thinking about him like that.

He felt something stirring inside of him, a tight feeling in his chest about to burst as he looked at her. She was looking right at him and he swore he saw her eyes flicker between his eyes and lips. “Kate-”

They both jumped startled as their eye contact broke, the moment fading, when there was a loud knock on the door, followed by a voice. “Anthony? Kate? Lunch is ready.”

They stood up slowly, Anthony sliding the protected pocket watch into his pocket and clipping it to the inside of his pocket’s material and headed to the door.

Benedict had been the one sent to fetch them, Colin was nowhere in sight. “Colin is trying to convince Mum to let him eat lunch. His comment didn’t go down well earlier and he’s apparently corrupting our younger siblings.”

Anthony let out a deep chuckle, turning to Kate with a smirk. “If you want to punish Colin, take away his food. He inhales anything in sight.”

Once they sat down for lunch, Kate was an immediate big hit with the Bridgertons. Hyacinth threw a fit until she was allowed to eat lunch on Anthony’s lap, quite suspicious about his new friend. Kate quickly got into her good graces when she put two carrot sticks in her mouth to look like a walrus, making walrus noises until Hyacinth laughed so hard she spat out some of her juice.

Daphne chats away to Kate about her plans to study architecture in Cambridge after her final year in school, which Anthony had spent the last few weeks helping her prepare for her applications and for her interviews. Daph announced she was pleased there was finally another female in the house to combat the massive levels of testosterone, as Eloise apparently didn’t count (who gives her the finger which their mother quickly scolds her for) and Frannie is always disappearing.

Anthony knows he shouldn’t have favourites. He loves all of his siblings, he really does-but Francesca is his favourite.

His brothers are his best friends, Daph is the person he shares a lot of the same hobbies with-riding, swimming and Eloise is the person he debates and watches documentaries with. At six and three, Gregory and Hyacinth are still babies. It’s different with them, they don’t remember their father. Anthony desperately tried to be that for them. He had to take care of them after their father died and Hyacinth was born a month after and their mother didn’t leave bed for weeks. Anthony is definitely their favourite sibling and it does wonders for his ego.

Francesca, however, is Anthony.

They both aren’t the loud ones-they leave that to Colin and Eloise. They’re not the artistic ones either-Daphne and Benedict were the ones who had art shows and were stars in their school plays.

Anthony is pretty sure Francesca is the only other sibling who will join the family business in the future. He can’t say for sure because Gregory and Hyacinth are so young, but he doesn’t doubt if for a second for Francesca. They read the newspaper most mornings together, they send each other articles and book recommendations when she’s at home and he’s at university. They’re both fiercely competitive and play on any sports team they can.

Frannie is very serious for a twelve year old with an incredible emotional intelligence, something Anthony was always told he was like, except for the emotional intelligence part-he’s been told he’s rather lacking in that area-and he knows she worries about him. Their father’s death had given him a responsibility that he didn’t want her to have. Francesca didn’t agree. She had been nine when he passed. Yet, she had always been at this side-helping with the babies, insisting he ate if he had forgotten and talking to Colin when he acted out in grief and fought against Anthony helping him.

They had all helped each other in their grief but Francesca was the one who saved Anthony from drowning.

They understood each other and Anthony wouldn’t have survived that first year after Edmund’s death without her. Their mother had been recovering from a traumatic birth and was still grieving, he had cancelled his gap year plans to take care of the family before university and was trying to stop them from falling apart.

Whenever she needed time alone, she disappeared in the house, usually to her bedroom, the library or the treehouse. Anthony had always retreated when he needed some time to breathe. Her spots had become Anthony’s spots, whether it was in Kent or in London, and they would sit in silence doing whatever.

Frannie turns to him one morning at breakfast, handing him the finance part of the paper and taking a sip of her orange juice. “I like her.”

“Kate?” The topic of their conversation was cooking pancakes with Eloise and Daphne, the three of them laughing about something. She catches his eye, grinning at him before turning to listen to what Eloise was saying.

“So do you,” Francesca said, as if it was a casual thing to say. “I think you should, you know. It would be nice, to be happy.”

Anthony actually stutters. “I-I am happy.”

Francesca sighs, shaking her head. “Of course you are. You have been since Kate arrived. I wonder why?”

Everyone else joins the table, cutting off their conversation as they hand out the pancakes. Anthony stares at Frannie in bewilderment before turning back to his food. If his internal battle and feelings were that obvious, he needed to work on being more subtle.

That summer is the best Anthony has ever had.

One warm August afternoon, Anthony takes Kate away from the house so he can get her to himself for a bit. He decides to take her horse riding to the nearby stables where they used to take lessons and go riding.

Anthony hadn’t ridden since the summer of his father’s death. They had spent every summer in Kent before their father died and before that, they had lived there until Anthony was five before permanently moving to London. Their father had always loved riding and had taken them out for rides and lessons, but their mother was never that fussed. Anthony had been shocked when his mother announced she wanted to go back to Aubrey Hall this summer, having been so insistent on staying in London for three years straight. He didn’t think she would ever be able to go back, but she seemed to be coping well so far or he just hadn’t seen her break down.

His siblings could just go to the stables if they wanted to go for a ride, but none of them were that fussed except for Daphne. She had always loved riding and she had competed in competitions for years before quitting to focus on school. It wasn’t the same after their father died, he had always been at every single one of her competitions. It had usually been the two of them and their father going out for rides together during the summer.

Anthony and Daphne had gone for daily rides since their arrival in Kent, deciding to continue the tradition they had always loved. Convincing Kate to, on the other hand, was not looking likely.

Kate was biting her bottom lip, looking at the horse in front of her. “I don’t know.”

“You’ll be fine.”

She was still hesitant. “Is there like a pony or something? Something smaller?”

“This is the smallest mare they have. She’s very calm. Eloise rode her last week and she’s never been fond of riding.”

“I don’t trust it,” Kate whispered, stepping closer to Anthony as if she was afraid the horse could hear her.

Anthony let out an amused, slightly frustrated huff. He was trying to be patient, but it was wearing thin. “It’s a horse, Kate.”

Kate turned to glare at him, narrowing her eyes. “Not all of us came out of the womb and onto a saddle, Anthony. Horses are large and intelligent creatures. What if it doesn’t want me to ride it and throws me off?

“Do you trust me?”

Kate sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes,” She said, begrudgingly.

He extended his hand to her. “I promise you’re not going to fall off. I’m going to walk you around before we go for a ride. She’s a good horse, she won’t throw you off. Just get up and shut up.”

“Wow. You’re so kind. With an attitude like that, it’s a mystery to why you’re single.”

He mimicked her, and she mimicked him back, and they stood there mocking each other for a few minutes until she shoved him into the muck.

He wouldn’t talk to her for ten minutes, covered in dirt, and she nearly wet herself she was laughing so hard, and he eventually joined in.

He eventually helped her onto the horse, a gentle brown mare called Iris. Kate clutched at his hand as he helped her up and the electricity sent jolts down his spine. He walked her around for a bit before leading her for a ride across the fields, which Kate seemed to love.

They trotted for most of it and Kate made him take a picture with her with the blooming fields in the background to send to Mary and Edwina.

He definitely doesn’t send it to himself later and keep it on his phone.

It was one of the best afternoons of his life.

Things tended to be amazing whenever Kate was around.

It was becoming quite the problem, especially whenever she smiled or laughed, causing him to get this uncomfortable, warm feeling in his chest.

Kate even gets up with him in the mornings with the babies when he gave his Mum a break, watching cartoons with Greg and Hyacinth who wake up at illegal hours most mornings.

The rest of his siblings slowly join them, everyone tired and weary as they sit on the couch. The early morning silence slowly begins to fade with the chatter in the room.

“I love this.”

“Mm?” He hums, turning his attention away from the cartoon to look at Kate.

“How noisy it is here. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family so much. It could just get quiet at times, you know? I’ve always wanted a big family.”

“Oh,” says Kate softly, looking down at a sleeping Hyacinth against his chest. “She’s adorable.”

“Yeah,” said Anthony, smiling down at his sister. “Until she’s screaming her lungs out after you turn off Peppa Pig after four hours of watching it.”

Kate chuckled softly, “She's quite the character. She looks like you, you know.”

“You think?” said Anthony, his voice softer.

She nodded, smiling warmly at him. “You’re doing an amazing job, you know that right?”

It wasn’t anything like his father would be doing if he was still here. Anthony had made his peace with the fact he could never be the man his father was. However, hearing it from Kate made it feel like he was doing something right.

“Alright, Greg,” Anthony was kneeling down to his little brother’s height, holding him steady. “I’m going to take these stabilizers off, and you’re going to pedal towards Kate. Just like we practiced on Eloise’s old bike.”

Gregory blinked up at him, eyes wide and terrified. “What if I fall?”

“You get back up,” said Anthony, brushing his thumb over his cheek slowly. “Besides, I’m going to be right beside you. I’d never let you fall.”

After a few tries, a few near falls and some tears, Gregory successfully cycles around the front garden all by himself.

He swung Gregory around, grinning at her laughter as the rest of the Bridgertons clapped.

Kate was smiling at him, and the sun made her face glow, and he knew in that moment he would do anything just to see her smile like that at him for the rest of his life.

They sat around the fire on the patio later that evening, roasting marshmallows on metal rods.

“I’m sorry if this is boring,” said Anthony, biting his lip as he glanced around at his family. “I know it’s not the most exciting summer.”

“Are you kidding?” said Kate, grinning at him as she shifted Hyacinth on her lap. She had refused to sit anywhere else, and Kate didn’t seem to mind at all. Anthony was eternally grateful, as he didn’t have it in him to deal with a Hyacinth Bridgerton tantrum that evening. “This is amazing. Thank you for inviting me.”

She’s smiling at him again and it’s getting very hard to ignore the hammering inside of his chest.

“She fits in well, don’t you think?” Violet Bridgerton says to Anthony in the kitchen, one evening after dinner when they’re both cleaning up. “As if she belongs here.”

“Mum,” Anthony says sternly, in a tone usually reserved for a parent scolding a child, but he knew exactly what she was insinuating. His mother’s favourite hobby was meddling in his love life. “Don’t go there.”

He wouldn’t let himself go there.

He had been internally debating it with himself for a while now, but he always came to the same conclusion. His reputation wasn’t stellar. His relationships never worked out.

He wouldn’t risk losing Kate.

It almost felt normal, her teasing him over a girl-as if the last few years hadn’t happened. As if his father’s death and Anthony’s role in the family hadn’t drastically changed everything. As if his relationship with his mother wasn't broken.

“Where, dearest?” Violet said, smirking at her son before walking back into the dining room.

Anthony sighed, leaning against the counter. He pushed the thoughts spiraling in his head and his recurring dream to the back of his head.

The women in his life were going to kill him.

They get the train to London on a Saturday for their friend Rob’s 21st birthday, and they stay for the night. They spend the day wandering around London, grabbing lunch at Camden market before getting ready at his house.

Kate’s dress is black and clings to her curves in a way that forces Anthony to remember to breathe.

Rob’s parents are divorced and his dad spends a lot of his time abroad, so the party is in his dad’s empty townhouse in Kensington. The party is in full swing by the time they arrive and they’re both drunk and laughing within an hour. They haven’t seen their university friends in a few weeks and when Anna sees them, she screams and jumps into their arms.

They eventually get separated, Anthony plays beer pong with some of Rob’s school friends and Rob, Luke and Ethan from uni. His head is buzzing, he feels slightly dizzy but the party is packed, he’s having a good time and he keeps on drinking.

When he eventually spots Kate, she’s leaning against the wall of the kitchen talking to a tall guy. Anthony doesn’t recognize him and the feeling in his chest isn’t warm or fuzzy.

He can’t help himself. “Who is Kate talking to?”

Rob turns his head around, looking in the direction Anthony nodded. “Oh, that’s David. We’ve played football together a few times in uni. He’s decent.”

Anthony takes a long swig of his beer.

Kate eventually finds him outside with the rest of their friends, Anna beside her as they join the group. It had taken everything in him to not interrupt her conversation with David, or whatever the fuck his name was. Kate was far too good for him. He had distracted himself with a blonde girl called Ella instead, who had left the party over an hour ago.

It didn’t work.

“Hey,” said Kate, yawning softly as she climbed onto his lap, pulling his blanket over herself. Anthony tries to look unaffected, but his heart is hammering inside of his chest. She's all he can smell-lilies and soap. The scent is overwhelming. They were all sitting in camper chairs around a firepit, and they stayed there until 5am before Rob told people they could stay over in any bedroom that they wanted.

He carries a drunk Kate to bed, finding an empty bedroom and laying her carefully on the bed.

He takes off her heels, wipes her makeup carefully off with the wipes she had brought in her bag and he leaves a glass of water beside her bed. “G’night.”

“Where are you going?” Kate asked, frowning slightly as lifted her head off the pillow. She looked so adorable, her eyes half closed as she looked at him.

“I’m going to sleep on the sofa.”

“I’m pretty sure someone is having sex on the sofa. Just sleep here.” Kate mumbled, yanking at his shirt to get him onto the bed.

Anthony hesitated, biting his lip. This was definitely crossing a boundary. The rest of the rooms were taken, the couch was currently in use and he didn’t fancy sleeping on the floor. He also knew he wouldn’t sleep at all, knowing Kate was right beside him.

He convinces himself he’s staying to make sure she’s alright, in case she needs to get sick or needs something. Kate is already asleep by the time he climbs into bed, determined to stick to his side. He’s practically falling over the edge of the bed when he falls asleep.

They wake up in each other’s arms the next morning.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Anthony asks Kate one evening, after a long day of eating food in the living room and having a Friends marathon.

Kate’s lying on her back, attempting to throw popcorn in the air and catch it with her mouth. “My only plans are becoming a solicitor and getting a corgi.”

Anthony snorted. “I don’t get your obsession with those dogs.”

“Insult corgis and see how it works out for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, Sheffield?”

“No, it’s a warning.”

They’re sitting on opposite ends of the long sofa. She kicks his foot, and he grabs her foot and pulls her towards him. He knows exactly what he’s going to do, and so does she-he ignores her protests.

“Anthony, I swear to god-”

He grabs her easily, leaning over her as he tickles her sides. She’s incredibly ticklish at the age of twenty one-and there’s a loud cough.

Anthony springs off Kate like a cat touching water.

“I just came to see if you guys wanted pizza,” Eloise says slowly, a mixture of amusement and shock plastered on her face. “We’re ordering some for dinner.”

“Pineapple, please.” Kate squeaks, avoiding Eloise’s gaze and instead focusing on the screen.

“Pepperoni,” Anthony says, trying to keep his facial expression impassive as he held his sister’s gaze. Eloise leaves after that, an amused hum leaving her lips before she wandered off.

They stay on opposite sides of the couch for the rest of the night.

They go for a swim in the lake the evening before Kate goes home. The sky looks like cotton candy, the sun setting in the distance and the warm air makes the cold lake bearable.

“Why do we have to swim in the lake when there’s a perfectly good pool?” Kate asked, glancing back at the house and back at the lake. “There’s nothing in it, is there?”

“Adventure, Katherine.” He took off his t-shirt, stepping into the lake before feeling his feet sink lower and eventually lose their grounding. “There isn’t anything. Come on.”

Kate hesitantly follows him in at a snail pace, which forces Anthony to stare at the water instead of her yellow bikini.

“What was that?” She squeaked, splashing the water as she jumped up in the air, feeling something brush against her feet. She grabbed him, launching herself into his arms.

“Don’t be such a baby,” He teased, trying desperately to ignore the fact she fit perfectly into his arms.

Kate always fit.

His hands were wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. This was breaking every boundary and rule he had put in place, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He could feel her soft skin under his fingertips, drawing patterns against her skin.

He felt her body relax, but she didn’t let go of him. She looked at him, pouting slightly. “I’m not a baby.”

“Kate?”

“Mm?”

Their faces are very close.

He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m glad you came here.”

She blinks at him, nodding her head slowly as a small smile erupts on her lips. “Me too.”

He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her. There’s no way he can’t kiss her. He has to kiss her. He’s going to ki-

There was a scream, and both of their heads flicked towards the two children running towards them, Colin and Benedict behind them.

They quickly broke apart, Anthony swimming towards the edge of the lake in case Gregory or Hyacinth rushed in. He nodded at his brothers apologetic stares, who clearly hadn’t meant for their younger siblings to disturb Anthony and Kate.

He doesn’t kiss her.

“Thanks for having me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

They’re both standing on the train platform, Kate’s train pulled into the station a minute ago. She’s going back to Somerset for two weeks before university starts, and then they’ll be together again.

He tries not to look as disappointed as he feels.

“I’ll see you in two weeks?”

“Not if I see you first,” She said, grinning at him as she slowly pulled him into a hug. She can never reach his neck, so she wraps her arms around his waist instead and leans her head against his chest.

Anthony holds her tightly. Anthony had needed her here this summer. It had been their first time at Aubrey Hall since their father died. Kate had made it easier. She’d made it fun.

As her train pulls out of the station and a waving Kate through the window disappears, he can’t help the pang of regret he feels as he watches her go.

He can’t help but think of everything he should have said, but didn’t.

He has a bitter taste in his mouth for the rest of the day.

“I think everyone’s going to the pub in an hour. Do you want to go?”

They’re finally back for their final year of university, and they’re busier than ever. Before they know it, the leaves have fallen off the trees and the cool November weather has taken over Oxford. The workload, readings and assignments are piling up and they had spent the evening reviewing each other’s thesis proposals and giving feedback to each other.

Kate looks up from her laptop, typing for a few seconds before shaking her head. “I can’t. I have a meeting.”

Anthony looks up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “A meeting?”

Kate takes a deep breath, staring at Anthony with a “If I tell you this, you have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

That catches Anthony’s full attention, “I promise.”

“It’s our last year here,” Kate begins, closing her laptop and standing up. “I want to make the most of it, get more involved. So, I’ve joined the botanist society.”

Anthony blinks. “The what?”

“It’s a science society, about gardening and plants. I always use to garden with dad. It’s actually really fun and interesting. We just drink and chat and they organize trips to museums and botanical gardens. There’s a trip to the Netherlands later just before Christmas, I’m going to go.”

His face softened. He knew what it was like, avoiding things if they reminded you of someone you lost or clinging to them for dear life. He could take the piss out of her, but he doesn’t. “I think it’s great. I didn’t know we had a botanist society.”

“David told me about it, actually.”

“David?” Anthony asks as if he doesn’t know, but he knew exactly who David was. He can hear his hammering pulse in his ears.

“I met him at Rob’s party. He’s in his final year of biology. He’s nice.” Anthony doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He just feels sick. Was David going to be there?

“That reminds me,” Anthony says, swiftly changing the subject before he said something stupid. “I got us tickets to the law ball. We should go together.”

Kate blinks at him through her reflection in the mirror. “Together?”

Anthony shrugs, blushing slightly at his impulsivity. “Everyone else is bringing dates. Anna and Luke are going as friends. We’re both single. Unless you’re bringing someone else?”

Kate shakes her head quickly and Anthony has to stop himself sighing in relief. “No, no. That’s a great idea. I’d love to.”

It was getting extremely difficult to fight his feelings.

Kate looked beautiful.

He can’t stop the words coming out of his mouth and tries to hold in his grin when Kate blushes and rolls her eyes at him.

It’s the night of the Law Ball and their entire friend group is having pre-drinks in the common room before they headed to the college where the ball was being held.

Kate’s wearing a long lavender dress, with a V-neck cut and straps that hang loosely on her shoulders. Her hair is long and wavy down her back and he has to count slowly in his head to stop himself from staring at her.

Anthony didn’t like taking pictures but if they involved wrapping his hand around her waist, pulling her close to him-he’d never complain again taking them for the rest of his life.

Anna insists on getting multiple shots of them together, which takes a few minutes. Anthony swore he saw her wink at him at one point or he was just drunker than he thought.

The ball is brilliant, their entire friend group sits at the same table and he doesn’t remember the last time he laughed so much. They’re all drunk and sloppy, confessing their love for each other and how much they’ll miss each other when they graduate. Anthony spins Kate around the dancefloor and her arms are around his neck, and he wants to stay in that moment forever.

That voice rings in his head.

Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

He doesn't kiss her.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

It was around 4am when they all walked back to their rooms, after a quick stop at McDonalds for some food. Kate had a flight in about five hours and Anthony left their friends to walk her to their room.

Kate’s smile is playful as she hands him back his suit jacket . “Not if I see you first.”

Kate flies to the Netherlands with the botanist society the next morning and Anthony goes home to London. He desperately needed a distraction and his family were the perfect fit. He brought Gregory to football, Hyacinth to swimming and spent the night with all of them while their mother went out with some of her friends.

He couldn’t focus on any of his readings for his lectures.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Nothing could distract him from his thoughts. The more he thought about her, the more he realized what an idiot he’d been.

He should have kissed her. He should have kissed at the ball, he should have kissed her in Kent, there were a thousand different times he should have kissed her.

It suddenly clicked. He couldn’t deny it anymore. The final piece of the puzzle.

He was in love with Kate Sheffield.

After the long weekend, he arrived in Oxford after Kate did. He had spent the day having a Sunday roast with his family before driving back to university.

His hands were shaking as he heard of his phone buzz, seeing Kate’s name appearing on his screen.

Kate: i’m back! Where are you?

Anthony: Just parked. Where are you? I’ll come to you

Kate: i’m at the pub! come!

He was going to tell her.

He had to tell her how he felt.

They could make it work.

They had wasted nearly three years not being together.

He didn’t bother going back to his room as he sprinted to their local pub, which was only a five minute walk from their accommodation.

It wasn’t just him. He was sure of it. Right? They had a moment over the summer at Aubrey Hall. There had been so many moments over the years. Kate had always been there for him. They had nearly kissed, they would have kissed if he hadn’t been interrupted. His younger siblings had asked if Kate was coming to visit soon while he went home over the weekend. His family loved her.

He lo-

“Anthony!”

His head flicked around the pub, focusing on the voice that called his name. It belonged to Anna, who was sitting at a table with Rob and Luke. He rushed towards them.

“Hey. Have you seen Kate?”

“She’s busy,” said Anna, the frown on her face evident as she nodded her head towards the bar. Anthony raised a curious eyebrow at her expression before turning around to follow her nod.

Kate was standing with her arms around David, who leans down and kisses her.

He felt something inside of him break.

Kate’s face lights up when she spots him and Anthony manages a smile, ignoring the pain in his chest.

“Anthony!” Kate said, walking towards him with a grin as she wrapped her arms around him to pull him in for a hug. “This is David.”

“I really like him. Please be nice,” Kate whispered in his ear, smiling up at him before taking a step back.

Kate looked so happy.

David grins at Anthony, placing two pints on the table before extending his hand. “Hey mate, nice to meet you.”

He had to remind himself, having Kate was better than not having her at all.

He couldn’t be a dick. He couldn’t push her away.

He swallows the vile taste in his mouth, mustering a smile as he shook his hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you. So, how was the trip?”

He sits there and he listens as they talk about their trip. David is a biologist.

It becomes clear quite quickly David is everything Anthony isn’t.

Anthony hated flowers. Flowers and plants usually meant bees.

“I’ll be right back,” Anthony said, standing up and grabbing his coat as he walked out of the pub. He walks around the side, where there’s no smokers or people chatting. He leans his head against the brick wall and tries to breathe.

He reaches for his phone, sending a text Benedict. He needed his brother. He needs someone. He couldn’t have Kate. His chest was so tight, he was finding is hard to breathe.

“I was wondering where you got off to.”

Anthony’s head snapped up as he saw Kate standing a few inches from him, looking at him curiously. He tries to control his breathing. She looks concerned, walking towards him. “Is everything okay?”

Anthony nodded, trying to relax and he stood up straighter. “Long day with the family. I’m just exhausted.”

He didn’t want to ask, but he did. He had to. “So, how did you two happen?”

The soft smile that breaks out on her face nearly destroys him, but he tries to smile back. “We met at the party, but I didn’t think anything would actually happen. We’ve seen each other at events and meetings for the past few weeks. He’s nice, you know? We have a lot in common. He told me he liked me during the trip and asked me to go to dinner. He bought me flowers. It was sweet.”

Kate had once told Anthony that she was the only person to ever buy her flowers. He had sent them to her every birthday and Christmas since then.

Now he wasn’t.

That was another thing David had taken from him.

“Do you like him?” Kate asked, taking a sip of her glass of water. She looks hesitant as she asks the question and Anthony knows he has to be careful. He doesn’t want to hurt her, none of this is her fault.

He had been wrong about everything.

No. “I suppose. I don’t really know him.”

“Anthony.”

“He seems nice.”

“Why do I bother asking?” Kate teased, taking a sip of her drink. “You don’t like anyone.”

Anthony didn’t miss a beat. “I like you.”

Anthony wanted to bitterly laugh at the irony of it all, but he stopped himself. This wasn’t about him.

Kate rolled her eyes. “I like you too. Seriously, though. It’s important to me that you like him.”

He pretends to look at the group of people ahead of them, just to avoid looking at her. “I want you to be happy. If he makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

Even if it makes him feel like this.

Kate hesitates, before giving him an affirming nod. “I am.”

He swallows hard. “Good.”

She leans her head against his shoulder, and they stand there in silence. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s just silence.

“We’ll always be friends, right?” Kate breaks it eventually, shaking her head. “God, I sound so childish. I just mean-we’re graduating soon. I know we’re both moving to London. I just-I don’t want us to drift apart.”

Anthony swallows his feelings and shakes his head, smiling playfully at her. “Do you think you can get rid of me, Sheffield?”

“Never, Bridgerton,” She said, laughing at him. It was ridiculous how her smile and laugh made him feel so light and free. He didn’t have the right to feel like that with her. Not like this. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Let's go back inside.”

He can’t sit in there for the next hour and watch them. The thought alone makes him nauseous. “I’m going to head back. I’m shattered and I have some reading to do for the seminar tomorrow.”

Kate looks slightly disappointed, but she musters a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” They walked to the font of the pub and he smiled as she walked in, turning around to shoot him a smile over her shoulder as she walked in.

He watched her through the window, joining the table where their friends sat. He watched David’s arm wrap around her shoulders and Kate’s head fall back as she laughed at something he whispered into her ear.

She looked happy.

It isn’t because of him.

That’s a particularly hard pill to swallow.

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kotoplasm · 3 years

Text

𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲:. 𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗯𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗼𝗸𝘂𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂

synposis. boxer!bokuto wants to spend the holidays with you after promising you that he'd make it memorable, which you hadn't expected would end becoming so ironical.

warnings::..; fluff (as usual).

bokuto was watching as your hands worked on the thin sliver of vermillion, tapered ends pricking the soft flesh wrapped around his wrist.

you've been at it for a five minutes now, sat on his lap on the sofa, leaving his eyes to wander from the mantlepiece to a picture frame then to you again.

it was odd. he asked you again, "what are you doing?" but you never answered with a comprehensible answer. instead you either nodded, mumbled something incoherent or remained silent.

was it payback for yesterday?

he hadn't replied to your message after finishing his match so instead of coming home to your voice, he was met with your sleeping figure on the couch, the tv replaying the highlights of his fight with his recent opponent (you couldn't pronounce the name).

frankly he was glad that you weren't awake. the medics on sight hadn't been able to stitch him up properly like usual as his main objective was to get back to you as soon as possible as he knew you would've been worried.

"it's just a scratch don't worry about it," he told you with a grin that he knew was due to the adrenaline from the wound. applying a little pressure to it caused him to let out a slur of hisses and curses to which you frowned, now glaring at him.

"it's just a little scratch?"

"it'll heal in a few days."

"you said that last time, and that bruise is still on your back kou."

"but it's faded!" and then he shows you, lifting his sleeve up to reveal the bruise that was still indeed there, now shifting between pink and red.

you didn't speak properly for the rest of the day, only speaking briefly during meal times and during the night.

when morning came you were already gone, leaving a note on the fridge briefly mentioning how you left home early to study the cranium somewhere in the library.

guess she's still mad at me huh....?

he feels a final tug and you're done, tying a final loop to finish.

"are you finally ready to tell me what it is that you've tied on my wrist?" he murmurs. it's a slur of words but it's loud enough for you to understand. "maybe what's on your mind as well?"

the stitches were still there, poking in and out of his skin. was it painful? of course it was. or else he wouldn't wince everytime he stretched that particular muscle or when you hugged him a little too tightly.

"i used to watch my mum tie something similar around my dad's wrist. in her culture, it symbolises safety or rather reinforces it whenever he left the country," you mutter into his shoulder, slightly adjusting your arms around his neck.

he knew where you were going with the answer. afterall, you've already tried to convince him to change his career choice. you never were quite content with the idea of watching your boyfriend's jaw turning slack after a clean right hook or watching his body lurch forward after a hefty punch.

"we've had this conversation so many times y/n. nothing is going to happen to me. i can promise you that much," he tries reassuring you but his words fall short when he feels something wet against his clothing.

"you don't know what will happen."

"kou it's dangerous."

"and it always will be. but i can handle the pain!"

you shoot up immediately, glaring at him. almost instantly, you press his abdonem, watching as his face contorts into one of discomfort, pain, irritance.

"what if the marks you get become much worse than this one? what if you'll have to get surgery?!"

"y/n it wo—"

"but it could! kou if you didn't get up after that last match you had, what do you think would have happened? i can't even watch your matches properly because i'm too busy worrying whether you're going to come through that door without any fatal inflictions or not!"

"i mean i get it. it's your dream. and i want to support you. but if you didn't get up that last time, i-i don't know what i would've done. i honestly wouldn't."

you're shaking. he grabs your hands, spreading the tips of your fingers across his calloused palms.

"you know what i'm working towards," he says. you nod.

"i can just get another job. i'm already managing everything else." he shakes his head.

"no. you're in your final year of college and you're graduating in a few months. not to mention exams. having to balance another job is going to be nothing but counterproductive.... did i use that word correctly?"

"...yes..." you fail to stop the small smile gracing your features. "you did."

"i just want to get to a point where i can be home more and finally find a better appartment to rent, away from that landlord who doesn't know what privacy or personal space is."

"i know but," you drag on the last syllables of the sentence. "that still doesn't stray from the fact that you'll get hurt."

"don't forget about this!" and he draws your attention to the ribbon on his wrist, tied by yours truly. "as long as i have this, i'll always find my way back to you, regardless of whatever shape i'll be in."

"do you really believe in that?"

your foreheads connect, breaths entangled and lips just merely a few millimetres away.

"well your father's still in that old couch of his so what's the harm in believing?"

a small kiss goes a long way as he's leaning forward to connect them, taking in your sweet scent. his thumb massages circles into your cheeks, pulling you closer as minutes pass.

he never truly appreciates just how much he loves having you in his arms, skin to skin contact giving him a sense of security and domesticity.

bokuto wonders how long he'll have to wait. you were both pretty young, too young in fact to get married (that's what you told him when he asked you what your answer would be if he got down on one knee and proposed at that instant.

"so it's not a no?" he asks.

"it's a, 'i'll say yes when we get a little older and you're much more certain on the idea of marriage,' bokuto koutarou."

the kiss falls short when you pull away slowly, lips still savouring the taste in a fixed pucker.

"you'll be back before christmas won't you?"

"if there aren't any surprise matches then i think so. even if there are, i'll just refuse and tell them that i need to spend some time with my s/o for the holidays."

"you don't have t—"

"no i want to. i want to spend christmas with you, right on this couch, doing the festive stuff that couples do. i'm not going to let my dreams get in the way of something that i cherish just as much."

when he sees that you've cheered up a little, he finally crawls away from your lap, fixing himself up to embark on his journey to the west. the train would arrive at the station in just a few minutes if there were no delays.

he's grabbing his suitcase and just about in the corridor up until he's facing you, wrapped in one of the blankets that were usually lying around on the couches.

he just wanted to be in your arms one more time as soon as possible.

"i'll text you when i get on the train." you nod. "and i'll call you before the match." you nod again. "and if the landlord comes around again, tell him that he should pass anything through me. i don't like the idea of that guy being so close to you during checkups and—"

"okay kou! just get going before you're late!" you're laughing now, eyes strained with fatigue. another kiss is shared, just a quick one involving bokuto pressing your cheeks together to peck them one last time.

"you'll get some sleep as well won't you?"

"yeah i'll try." which wasn't going to happen of course. you couldn't rest without knowing the outcomes of his matches. "i love you."

"i love you too." a grin wider than most was the last thing you remember seeing before he disappeared, leaving you to watch the tv one last time, basking in the emptiness that came with living with a boxer partner.

it got lonely sometimes. but you remember the red ribbon and how it's served its function for the generations that have passed.

the tv rumbles after an hour. a couple of pillows are stacked to supply comfort; a few blankets are wrapped around your body for heat.

the announcer introduces his opponent, another light heavyweight with hair that spiked up precariously. kou appears soon after, his silver and black tips falling over his eyes.

before the match starts, he looks straight into the camera to raise his left hand, the ribbon you tied making an appearance. the camera zooms into it. you laugh.

the look he gives wasn't to any of his viewers or the headlines would have said something. he's telling you that he'll be fine. to trust that he will.

so you do. the pillow in your arms is clutched tighter as the match starts. you're on edge but you try and calm your nerves. he was a reigning champion afterall.

you had faith in him as he did in you.

and sometimes that was enough to put your mind at ease.

(+) 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

(+) 𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲

#🎁 madness #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #myworks #bokuto scenario #bokuto headcanon #bokuto x you #bokuto hq #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou hcs #koutarou bokuto #bokuto koutaro #bokuto koutarou

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tommodirection · 3 years

Text

After All This Time

Liam Payne x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k (I don’t know what happened guys)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce, bullying, angst (but only with one t), not proofread

Masterlist

When your mum had told you that she and your little sister were moving up to Wolverhampton, you had thought she was joking.

But when your father came into the room and confirmed that they were separating, and that you were meant to go with her, you knew she really wasn’t. You had protested profoundly at first, not wanting to move away from your mates, but your mother was firm in her choice, and so, off you went to Wolverhampton, a town you didn’t even know existed.

The day you were moving in, you sat on the curb, pouting and refusing to help. It was childish, you would admit, but you were only twelve at the time. Your little sister, Mariana, looked up to you, and followed in your footsteps, so you were joined by her a few minutes after they began moving boxes inside.

You had both sat, you were glaring at the road in front of you, and Mariana was copying, although she kept looking at you out of the corner of her eye, seeing if you had stopped yet.

“Y/N! Mariana! It’s time to start unpacking!” Your mother shouted from the door. You stayed put, as did Mariana, watching the large truck pull out of the driveway.

You weren’t sure if you were more upset about your parents separating, or moving to a whole new town, one across the country from your father. Mariana was nine at the time, not much younger than you. She was a sweetheart, she looked almost identical to your mother, same eyes and hair, even the same nose.

“If you don’t come inside in the next thrity seconds, you won’t get any cookies!” Your mother shouted again.

They were probably just store bought ones, there was no way she had already unpacked all of her supplies and made something, so you stayed. Mariana did too, for the first ten seconds, and then she broke, running into the house to get cookies. You shook your head, you knew she’d break.

“Y/N, love, are you coming in?” Your mother asked, and you didn’t respond, you kept looking ahead of you. You heard her let out an exhausted sigh, and seconds later, you heard the door close.

You tucked your head into your knees and sat, pushing back tears even though you were alone. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting out there, could’ve been a few minutes, could’ve been a few hours, but what you do remember about that day, was meeting him.

He had approached you, a little plate in his hands. He had tapped you on your shoulder, and you had quickly stood, brushing yourself off.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your voice wavering a bit.

“Hi,” he gave you a shy smile, “My family lives next door, and my mum told me to bring your family this,” he gestured to the plate.

“Oh uhm, yeah,” you tucked your hair behind your ear, “You can just bring that up to my mum, she’ll take care of it,” you pointed to the door, and sat back down.

You tucked your head back into your knees, expecting the boy to go drop the plate off and go back to his house, but instead, he sat next to you, setting the plate aside.You looked up, giving him a small smile and turning back towards the road.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and you let out a small laugh, which probably threw him off.

“I don’t know, I guess,” you shrugged, and he squinted at you.

“I don’t think someone who was okay would be sitting on the curb when the sun’s about to set,” he chided and you flushed. His accent was delightful, something you’d never heard before, different from where you were from, a good different.

“I guess you’re right,” you admitted, and turned to the boy, sticking your hand out. “Y/N,” you introduced.

He shook your hand, “Liam, Liam Payne,” he smiled and you bit back a giggle. “So, Y/N, what are you doing out here?” He asked, leaning forward on his knees.

You took a second to answer. What were you doing out here? “I don’t know, protesting, I guess,” you shrugged again, suddenly embarrassed of your behavior.

“Protesting what?” He probed further, you didn’t blame him.

“I don’t want to be here. I want to be back home, where we were fine, and where my dad was,” you picked at your jeans, feeling tears swelling again.

You had known their marriage wasn’t a perfect one. You were twelve, you weren’t dumb, but you had tried to ignore it. You had tried to block the endless fights and countless hours of lost sleep out of your mind.

He was cheating on her, well, that’s what you had picked up from their fights. It’s not like you were trying to eavesdrop, their voices echoed through the whole house. You usually sacrificed the one pair of sound-proof headphones to your sister, trying to protect her.

“Well, there must be some sort of reason you’re here, it can’t be for nothing,” he reasoned and you shook your head.

“I don’t think there's a reason.”

“I can be a reason,” he offered. You quickly looked at him and saw his face turn pink, “That’s, that’s not what I meant! I meant I can try to make moving here nice, try to make it better!” He explained and you laughed.

“Yeah, I guess that would be nice,” you agreed, and he raised a playful eyebrow.

“You guess, or you know?” He teased and you gave him a light shove. He chuckled and sighed. You heard a light voice call for him, assumingly his mother. “I’ve got to go, I wasn’t meant to be out this late,” he stood, offering his hand to help you up.

You took it, and he pulled you off the ground. You grabbed the plate, a plate full of sweets. “Thank you, Liam,” you whispered, and he nodded.

“No problem, Y/N, now I’ve got to get going, or she’ll have my head, you’re going to St Peter’s, right? Year eight?” You nodded in confirmation. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow then! Goodnight!” He yelled as he ran away, you looked at the small plate of food in your hands. You looked up at the new house, finally deciding to go inside.

You stepped inside, the house already smelling of your mother’s candles, a few were scattered around the house. Laughter echoed through the hallway, coming from the kitchen. You made your way in, your sister’s face lighting up when she saw you.

“Y/N!” She yelled, running to wrap you in a hug. Your mother turned, smiling at you, and then her eyes settled on the plate, concerning quickly overcoming her face.

“Where’d you get that?” She inquired, and you felt a smile tug at your lips.

“The neighbor boy, Liam, he says it’s from his mum,” you handed her the plate, and she instantly relaxed.

“Well isn’t that just sweet!” She exclaimed, setting the plate on the counter beside her. “We’ll have to go thank them later, but now,” she narrowed her eyes at you, “little Ana was nice enough to bring your boxes to your room, along with hers. You’ll be sharing a room for now. Would you mind going to go unpack, my dear? Or at least get your school stuff set up?” She asked, cocking her head to the side.

You nodded, not wanting to argue further. Mariana led you down the hallway, all the way to the room you’d be sharing for a few more years.

She had already unpacked, her Madonna poster on the wall above the bed she’d claimed as hers. Your boxes were all stacked neatly, your comforter already on the bed, and the closet already half full of Mariana’s clothes.

You sighed, beginning to unpack all of the boxes. The first box was just full of clothes and hangers, most of the boxes having similar content. You hung all of them up on your side of the closet, putting your folded pants on a shelf towards the bottom. You set aside the new school uniform, putting it on the nightstand next to your bed.The rest of the boxes were filled with decorations, a Mariah Carey poster, going above your bed like your sister’s. You had a few pictures, setting the one of your family at the zoo, years ago, on your nightstand.

About two hours later, you had fully unpacked, not that there was much. You had a dinner break in the middle, but then went back to work.

Now, you had pajamas on, and teeth already brushed. You went to bed that night, well, you tried. You honestly tried, but sleep just didn’t want to welcome you.You laid awake, staring at the ceiling, drumming your fingers on your blanket. You heard Mariana shuffling a bit, but brushed it off, she always moved in her sleep.

The next morning was a rush, your mother was hurrying to have both of you dressed and ready, quite a struggle when you had two kids and you had never done this type of thing alone before.

You had tried to be as helpful as possible, getting dressed and ready quickly, you even tried to help make breakfast, but when you had burnt the toast, you had been instructed to help Mariana get dressed and ready.

You walked into the shared room and saw Mariana, her polo and skirt on, but nothing else, not her vest, socks, or headband.

“Alright, Mariana, you’re nine, you should be able to get dressed on your own,” you scolded lightly, and pulled her vest and socks out, grabbing the headband from her nightstand. “What’s up?” You asked when you saw her frowning and staring at the ground.

“What if they don’t like me?” She asked, gently swaying her feet. You had felt like this was going to happen.

“Listen, Ana, they’re going to love you, you know how I know?” You asked and she shook her head. “I know because I love you, you’re pretty, funny, smart, kind, there’s no reason they won’t like you, alright? But if someone doesn’t like you, don’t let it bother you, but let me know, okay?” You asked again, and she nodded, giggling lightly.

You handed her the vest and she slipped it on over her head, adjusting it. You put in her socks, grabbed the black Mary Janes from the end of her bed. You slipped them on quickly, and she stood, running to get out the door.

“Ana! Aren’t you forgetting something?” You held up the headband and she giggled, quickly running over to you. You placed it on her, making sure all of her hair was brushed and out of her face. “Perfect!” You complimented, “Now let’s go!” You grabbed her hand and ran to the kitchen, inhaling your breakfast.

Your mother was slipping on a pair of heels, dressed for her interviews today. She grabbed her purse and ushered both of you out the door and into the car.

She dropped Mariana off at the primary school, giving her a kiss and a small hug before setting her off to a teacher for help. Once she took off again, she asked you the routine questions, about if you were nervous, if you knew your schedule, if you knew anyone yet, the only question you were able to truthfully answer.

You couldn’t get out of the car soon enough. You ran inside, gripping your backpack straps as you looked for Liam in the crowd.

You were quickly giving up, not seeing a single brunette in the crowd, a little odd.

Someone tapped on your shoulder, and you spun around, smiling when you saw Liam standing there. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a long hug. You pulled away, Liam was blushing profoundly and a wide grin was spread across his face.

“Hey,” you greeted and he laughed.

“Quite a greeting,” he teased and you playfully rolled your eyes.

He was smiling at you, until he looked over your shoulder, his smile dropping. You were about to turn around, but he grabbed your arm, “Hey! How about we go this way?” He jerked his head in that direction and began leading you away, but someone stepped in front of him before you got far. “Shit,” you heard him mumble under his breath.

The boy in front of you wasn’t very big, definitely shorter than Liam, bright blonde hair and his sleeves on his uniform were pulled up, almost in an attempt to look cool. He really looked like an angry three year old at church.

“Hey Liam,” he smirked and Liam took a deep breath.

“Can we just head to class?” You whispered in his ear and he shook his head.

“Y/N, you should go to class, I’ll just meet you there,” he said, desperation clear in his voice.

“Liam, I’m not leaving,” you said, detecting a bit of fear in his voice.

“Yeah, why don’t you just leave me and little Liam alone for a bit?” The boy sneered, hooking an arm around Liam.

The student body continued doing their business, almost as if they were used to whatever was going on.

“Little?” You spat, looking the boy up and down.

“Yeah, he’s little Liam, loves to sing,” he added, squeezing Liam’s cheeks, Liam was obviously trying to pull away, but another boy was standing behind him, this one a bit taller than Liam. He held him in place.

You had never actually witnessed bullying, you were just taught about it and how to avoid it and how to address it if needed. This was nothing like the movies about bullying you’d been forced to watch. Those bullies were dedicated, relentless. These bullies just seemed lazy.

“Little Liam who loves to sing? What kind of half-assed name is that?” You asked, and the short blonde was clearly thrown off guard. “He’s certainly not little, he’s a whole foot taller than you, so I don’t think you really get to speak,” you scoffed and the blonde glared at you.

“I call him what I want! I-“ you interrupted him.

“Why is that? Why do you call him what you want? Did he say you could call him that?” You prompted and you saw the boy becoming more furious with each second.

“I-“ he began. “Just shut up!” He hissed and you laughed. This dude was like, three feet tall, why the hell did he think he could tell you what to do?

“No, I won’t shut up! Back to the half-assed insult, why is it bad he likes to sing? If he likes to sing, then get off his back. You listen to people on the radio, they all started where he is at one point. Don’t make fun of someone for a hobby,” you watched as he became embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning red.

He stayed silent for a few moments, trying to come up with a witty comeback. “Why do you even care if I mess with him, eh? Is your little boyfriend or something?”

You didn’t see why that should bother you, “I care because you’re being a dick,” he reeled at that word, “he’s my mate, and just cause you hate yourself, doesn’t give you a right to belittle him.”

It was such a second-grade argument, and you were winning. You had learned a trick from your mother, she had been a lawyer before the divorce. You always question their points, you try to point out faults in their stance, and nine times out of ten, it worked.

“Now, if you’ll stop acting like an eight year old, I’d like to go to class with my friend,” you finished, a polite, fake, smile on your face. He scoffed and walked away, the other kid following behind him closely.

Liam walked next to you, his head low, he seemed embarrassed that that had just happened.

“Why did you tell me to leave?” You asked and he turned his head, trying to avoid your eyes.

He mumbled something, but you didn’t hear it, so he repeated himself. “I didn’t want you to see that, I didn’t want you to think any less of me,” he continued looking down at his feet.

“Liam, I would never think any less of you, unless you became famous or something and started acting like that blonde little Rumplestilskin,” you joked and you saw him smile out of the corner of your eye. “It takes a lot of bravery and strength to tolerate that, I admire that. I don’t think any less of you. In fact, I respect you a lot more now,” you reassured him.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said, his voice light.

“Anytime, Liam.”

Two years later, Liam went on the X-Factor for the first time, and you were there with him, well, for his audition.

You had stood outside, waiting with his family as he went in. You knew Liam was an amazing singer, he was funny, charming, attractive, they were going to love him. You were proven right when he came out of the audition room, a wide smile on his face.

“Three yeses,” he said, and all of you erupted into cheers.

You were the first to hug him, wrapping your arms around him and bringing him close. He buried his head in your neck, laughing as you squealed.

But just as you watched him succeed, you had to watch him come crashing down.

He had went home from the judge’s house, absolutely crushed. He stayed at your house for a week, mostly staying in bed and crying while he was curled into you.

Time had been a bitch. Less than a year later, your mother lost her job.

You knew she was struggling with money, which is why you had gotten a job, trying to help with the bills as much as possible, but two minimum wage jobs couldn’t pay the bills. You had to move again. This time to Paris, where your mother had found a job.

You had tried to convince her to let you stay, to let you buy your own place, you even offered to stay with Liam, but there you were, right back at the start, packing your stuff again. Liam had helped you, he cried when he found out. You’d been fighting off his bullies for the past two and a half years, he was afraid of what was going to happen.

That wasn’t the only thing. He was going to miss you, you were his best friend after all. His parents had allowed him to stay at your house for the week before you left. He spent every night in your bed, despite your sister’s teasing. You knew you wouldn’t completely lose contact, you had each other’s numbers, and followed each other on Twitter, something you hoped would keep you close.

You’d never admit it to anyone, not even Mariana, but you had fallen in love with Liam. Maybe it wasn’t love, you were only fourteen, you didn’t know what love was, maybe.

Moving day was the worst. Worse than the last one. Your image of your dad had been ruined, but you still loved Liam, he had become one of the most important people in your life, arguably more important than Mariana. The truck was already packed, as was the car. Your sister and mum were sitting in the car, waiting for you to finish. You had been holding onto each other for the past thirty minutes. His head buried in your shoulder as you rocked back and forth.

“I don’t want you to go,” he mumbled for the millionth time.

“I don’t want me to either,” you felt your voice crack.

“I wish we had more time,” he whispered, and you broke.

“Me too, Liam, me too,” you cried and pulled away, knowing if you didn’t leave now, you never would. You pressed your forehead against his head. “I’ll miss you, so much Liam,” you said and he blinked back tears.

“You have no idea how much I’ll miss you,” he let out a shaky sigh.

“I want you to promise me one thing,” you said, waiting for him to look you in the eyes, “I want you to keep singing. I don’t care what those dickwads at our school say. You have talent, Liam, and you can’t give up on that. Okay? You’re too amazing for that,” you ordered and he nodded rapidly.

“I promise,” he placed his hands on your cheeks. Your heart sped up, the possibility of him kissing you making your body buzz. Instead, he placed a small kiss on your forehead.

“Bye, Liam,” you said, pulling away from him, turning to walk towards the car, more tears brewing in your eyes.

“Y/N-“ he started, and when you turned to look at him, tears strolling down your face, he pursed his lips, “Take care.”

You smiled at him, nodding before climbing into the car. Your mother began driving away, you looked out the window as you watched your world fade away with each passing second.

For a few weeks, you had kept in contact, talking every night, but as activities started consuming both of you, your already short conversations became even shorter. Soon, it just turned into birthday texts. That’s how it was for a year after you moved, but it started to change, slowly, but change nonetheless.

You had been sitting in your bedroom, one you now shared with your mum and sister, working on an essay. In the middle of the third paragraph, your mother had excitedly called you, her voice an octave higher than it usually was. You had rushed into the living room, scared something had happened, but instead, you saw your best friend on screen, standing in front of the X-Factor judges once again. You sat down next to your mother, watching the TV in awe. A sense of pride had washed up in you, but you pushed it down, there was no way he was doing this for you. The judges began asking him the routine questions, who he was, yada yada.

“Why did you come back?” Simon asked, leaning forward on the table.

Liam smiled at the ground before looking back up, “I made a promise to someone,” and you saw one of the judge’s put a hand on her heart.

You melted. He really was doing this for you. That cheeky son of a bitch. You had raced to your phone, immediately opening his contact and sending him a text, not expecting a response anytime soon.

You heard his voice echo through the living room, a voice you loved dearly. You and your mother both began screaming in excitement when he got four yeses, although you had expected that. You glanced down at your text, maybe it was too random, maybe too arrogant.

Y/N: You kept your promise :)

Deciding that it was good enough, you set your phone aside. You settled back into the couch next to your mother. You watched a few more performers, quite a few of them were extremely talented, but none of them even compared to Liam, at least, from your perspective.

You went to bed that night, your essay completely forgotten. You were about to drift off, when your phone went off, your ringtone echoing through the small room.

“Ay! Could you at least turn the ringer off?” Mariana complained and you heard your mother grunt in agreement.

“Sorry,” you whispered, quickly turning the ringer off before looking at it. Liam had responded.

Liam: Of course, I always keep them

You smiled down at his message, tucking your lip into your mouth.

Y/N: I’m really proud of you, L

The response was almost instant.

Liam: Thank you, that really means a lot, I wish you were here with me though, it was cold without you :(

You felt a pout beginning to tug on your smile.

Y/N: I do too

That was the last text message you’d received from him for a couple more years.

Soon after that, he went on to become a part One Direction. You had sent him a few congratulatory texts, never receiving a response, but you didn’t care.

He was caught up in the rush, he was busy, you understood that. You watched him and the band work their way through the competition, getting a bit frustrated when they lost.

You still felt an overwhelming sense of pride fill you, that was your childhood best mate, smashing it.

About a year later, you were driving, on your way to your university dorm, and had the music on, blaring through your speakers.

You almost stopped the car when you heard Liam’s voice. You thought it was maybe a coincidence, but no one’s voice sounded like he did.

You felt a smile spread across your face, once you had finally reached your dorm, you pulled over, scrambling for your phone, sending another text to him.

Y/N: I just heard your song on the radio! Almost crashed the car! I’m so proud of you, bubs! I can’t wait until the album comes out!

You didn’t receive a response then either.

For the next few years, you had followed One Direction’s story, almost always being the first one to memorize a song, or buy an album. Yet, you hadn’t bought a concert ticket, you couldn’t afford it.

Liam’s success overwhelmed you, and you were just watching from the outside, so you couldn’t even imagine what it was like for them.

You had begun to worry he had forgotten about you, but you were proved wrong when the Story of My Life music video was released.

Mariana, now seventeen, had rushed to the kitchen, phone held tightly in her hand, she seemed out of breath.

“What’s up, Ana?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You’re not gonna believe this!” She exclaimed and shoved the phone in your face. The Story of My Life music video.

“Why are you showing me this?” You asked, watching as the song began playing out, Liam’s voice still giving you chills.

“Just watch!” She ordered and you turned your attention back to the screen.

The video was recreating a picture from each of the boys’ past. Liam’s part came up, and you smiled, looking at his family, his sisters grown now. He stepped away, picking up a picture frame, and you nearly dropped Mariana’s phone.

It was a photo of you.

Well, you and Liam. It was your first concert together, your parents made you take a picture together before you all went on the road. He’d been wearing the band’s shirt, and some black jeans. You had some skinny jeans and a nice blouse on, your face flushed and hair pulled back.

What you’d give to go back.

“Thank you for showing me, Ana,” you handed her the phone and left the room, not waiting to hear what she had to say.

You rushed to your phone once again, wanting to text him.You opened his contact, scrolling through the messages you had sent that hadn’t received responses. You bit your lip, turning your phone off and throwing it back on your bed.

If he wanted to know what you thought, he would’ve texted first. You were done chasing someone who didn’t care, at least, that’s what you thought.

You didn’t know that Liam had been on high-alert for several weeks following the release of that video, he was waiting for you.

A few months later, Liam finally decided to text you. You had been baking with Mariana, trying to make a cake for your mother’s birthday. Mariana didn’t know what she was doing. She had already dropped something fours times, smiling sheepishly after she did so.

Your phone had been playing music, mostly One Direction, and you both heard it vibrate. You had quickly wiped off your hands, giving Mariana a playful glare.

“Don’t break anything when I turn my back!” She rolled her eyes and got back to baking, much to your terror. You shook your head and picked up your phone, opening your messages.

It was Liam.

You almost didn’t read it. After all this time, now he wanted to talk? But you knew if you didn’t read it, you’d regret it. You hesitantly clicked on his contact, sucking in a short breath before reading his message.

Liam: Hey Y/N! It’s me! But you probably already know that! Anyways, I’m sorry I haven’t responded to you, I really want to explain, but I can’t do that over the phone, so, I have two backstage passes for you and Ana for our show in Paris, if you want them! Also, normal tickets are included, front row!

You set your phone down, running your hands over your face. Of course you wanted to go, and you knew Mariana would want to go too, but you were scared. You were scared that Liam had turned into the blonde bully from all those years ago, maybe he just wanted to shove it in your face. The Liam you knew wouldn’t do that, but you weren’t sure what to expect. You knew that fame changed people, and you were scared to find out how it had changed Liam.

Mariana sensed the tension, and leaned over your shoulder. She was eighteen now, a full adult. “What’s wrong?”

“Liam wants to talk, he got us backstage passes,” you grumbled and her face lit up.

“Really! That’s awesome! Why do you sound so upset?” She began talking her finger against the counter, a nervous habit of hers you had picked up on.

“Just a little scared s’all,” you mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose.

She seemed to pick on it immediately, “Listen, I know you probably are scared about his attitude and stuff, but if he becomes a problem, not that I think he will, we’ll just leave! Simple!” She clapped, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right, now, tell him we’ll be there, and help me finish these cupcakes!”

That’s how you ended up here, front stage of a One Direction concert a week later, Mariana clutching your arm with one hand, holding a box of cupcakes in another.She had insisted on bringing them, claiming she was an expert now after having made them once. She looked gorgeous, as always. She was wearing simple jeans, but ones that fit her perfectly. The shirt had taken over an hour to pick, but she settled on a yellow crop top, with a little bee on it and the word kind written under it. She had a black and yellow bandana pushing back her hair.

You knew she’d dress up for Harry, she wouldn’t stop talking about him. She was bouncing up and down, trying her best not to shake the cupcakes. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, some lyrics, some nonsense. Meanwhile, you were watching Liam as he danced around the stage, waving at some fans as he sang. A sense of pride washed over you, he had really made it this far.

You had missed him, no doubt in your mind. None of the friends you had made since moving to Paris even amounted to him. You had tried going on dates, but nothing clicked for you, not like it did with Liam. It was stupid, you knew it was. You were young, you shouldn’t have compared everything to him, but you did anyway, no matter how hard you tried to avoid the thought of him.

He really was everywhere. Your house, decorated with pictures of the two of you, he was on the radio, he was on billboards, he was on magazines in the store, he was on your social media, everywhere. You couldn’t avoid him. Eventually, you just gave up on trying to stop your intrusive thoughts of him.

Now here you were, a place you had always hoped you’d be, but you’d never imagined that it’d be this big.

They were in between songs at the moment, Harry and Liam entertaining the crowd while the others set up. Liam was collecting stuff that fans were throwing on stage, modeling some of them, catwalk included. He walked towards you and Mariana, a tiara on his head. He waved and Mariana held up her box. His face lit up and he crouched at the edge of the stage.

He reached out for the box, nearly falling over. Mariana did her best to pass the box to him, leaning over the rail a bit to reach him.“Got it!” He yelled in triumph, opening the box to see the cupcakes, only a few of them remained intact. He laughed at them and turned back to both of you, “Thank you Y/N and Ana, I’m sure we’ll enjoy these,” he gestured to the cupcakes, and the crowd erupted in confusion, the boys all looked at Liam at once, more confused as the audience.

“What?” He asked, freezing when he saw everyone looking at them.

“Oh Payno,” Louis mumbled and cringed, looking away quickly.

Liam continued looking between the boys, still confused as to why they were staring at him. He locked eyes with Harry and they stared at each other for a few seconds.

Harry raised his eyebrows at him and sighed into the microphone, more of a laugh. “How the hell do you know their names?” He asked, laughing.

You saw Liam flush as he realized what he had done, “Ah,” he said, the audience roaring behind you, mostly questions. He cleared his throat and gave a nervous laugh, “Well, you see, uhm, Y/N’s my childhood best mate, I guess you could call it, and little Mariana here is her sister, well,” he laughed, looking quickly at Ana, “She isn’t that little anymore!” He threw his hands up, and laughter echoed through the stadium.

“Wait a minute mate, is this the Y/N who…” Louis trailed off, spinning his finger.

“Yes, yes that is this Y/N,” Liam rushed and you watched Louis begin to smirk.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled and you gave a polite smile back.

Why did he smirk? What had Liam told him?

The boys continued their show shortly after. Liam and Louis behaved themselves, well, as much as they usually did. But then I Should’ve Kissed You came on.

Every time Liam began singing, or the chorus came around, Louis would begin elbowing Liam, a shit-eating grin on his face as he nodded in your direction each time.

What the hell was happening?

Harry had kept walking back towards you guys for the rest of the concert, each time he would wink at Mariana. He was towards the edge of the stage during Kiss You, one of Mariana’s favorites from Take Me Home.

“You can get, get anything that you want,” Harry winked at Mariana again, grabbing his crotch as he shuffled past.

You looked over to see her reaction, she was biting her fucking lip. You slapped her shoulder lightly and she looked over at you, giving you an innocent pout.

“What was that for,” she yelled over the crowd.

“Are you really thinking about sleeping with him?” You said into her ear.

She grabbed your hand, “Let’s go to the bathroom quick!” You were about to protest, but she was already leading you into the aisle. She found the bathroom only about a minute after you left your seats, impressive for never having been in that arena. She ushered you into the unisex bathroom and quickly locked the door, turning to you with a satisfied smile.

“Now, no one will hear us,” she grinned and put the toilet seat lid down, taking a seat. “What were you saying earlier?”

“I asked if you were really thinking about sleeping with Harry,” you crossed your arms over your chest, deciding to lean against the sink.

“Okay, listen, if Harry fucking Styles wants me to ride his dick, I will not hesitate to do so,” she answered, quite confidently.

You scrunched your nose in disgust, “Ana, you’re only-“ she cut you off.

“I’m eighteen, Y/N, and I love you and everything, but this is my decision to make. I’m an adult now, whether you think so or not. If I want to sleep with Harry, I’m going to do it,” she said, no longer tapping on her legs, she wasn’t nervous.

“I know you’re right, I’m sorry,” you apologized, “I still just see you as my little sister who needed help making breakfast in the morning,” you admitted shyly.

She stood and opened her arms. You walked over and she wrapped you in a hug, “Don’t worry, I still need help making breakfast in the morning,” she mumbled in your ear, causing both of you to laugh.

“Let’s head back,” you said, grabbing her hand as she led you back to your seats.

The rest of the concert was fun, the songs combined with the boys’ chaotic energy really gave it it’s own special appeal, one you wouldn’t trade anything for. Next came the part you were the most nervous for. Time to talk to Liam.

The boys disappeared beneath the stage, girls beginning to pour out of the arena, several shoving you on the way out, you couldn’t help but feel as though it was intentional.

You and Mariana pulled your passes out of your bags, you didn’t want them stolen, so they were kept at the bottom below your jackets. You fidgeted with the pass, hesitantly slipping it over your head. Mariana was already admiring her pass, a small smile on her face. She was much more confident than she had been seven years ago, the last time Liam had seen her.

You were much more shy than the last time Liam had seen you, you became quieter and less demanding than you had been before.

Mariana practically skipped through the hallway leading you to security. She waited for you at the conveyor belt, setting her bag down in a bin. She turned to look back at you, a wide grin across her face. You came up behind her, setting your bag in a different bin, pushing it in when hers came out on the other side.

She stepped through the metal detector, collecting her things when she was cleared. You stepped through when the guard waved you in. You held your breath, an irrational anxiety creeping up your spine, this happened every time you went through security. After clearing the security guards, you were led backstage to the lounge area.

“The boys will be right out, they’re just changing,” the guard told you, walking away before he even finished his sentence.

“Let’s sit!” Mariana waved and sat on a leather couch against the wall. You sat down next to her and rubbed your hands on your thighs.

“Okay, listen,” Mariana turned her attention to you, completely serious. “If tonight doesn’t go well, just look at the bright side, one of us will get laid,” she nodded, and you chuckled. She sensed your nerves and put her hand on your knee. “But seriously, if tonight doesn’t go well, I’m willing to ditch with you.”

“You’d leave Harry fucking Styles for me?” You placed a hand on your chest, faking surprise, quoting her words from earlier.

“Definitely, but if you tell him I said that, I won’t hesitate to kill you,” she promised and you held your hands up in mock surrender.

“I would completely understand,” you nodded and she gave a low chuckle.

She was about to say something, but you heard five rowdy voices and footsteps coming from down the hall. You both immediately straightened your backs, Mariana touching up her lipstick as you adjusted your sleeve.

The boys walked through the door, Liam being the last one to enter. Harry was front and center, currently devouring one of Mariana’s cupcakes. You both stood, smiling at the boys. They walked towards you, Liam giving you a big bear hug, nearly knocking you over. He pulled away, giving Mariana a small hug and a pat on the back. Meanwhile, Louis was running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, looking between you and Liam.

Liam cleared his throat and pointed behind him, “Do you wanna go talk?” He asked, biting the inside of his cheek.Your breath caught in your throat, preventing you from talking, so you just nodded.

“Whatcha gunna talk about, mate?” Louis asked Liam, smirking at him.

Liam was about to answer, but Mariana answered for him, “Probably about how he’s been in love with her since they were fourteen,” she blurted.

The room was silent, just for a second. Louis let out a loud laugh, placing his hand on his stomach. Niall’s obvious laugh encompasses the room. Zayn smiled and shook his head, all while Harry was looking at your sister, with what looked like admiration in his eyes.

“This one,” he pointed to her, beaming, “I like this one, let’s keep her.”

“I would be completely fine with that,” she said, making Niall laugh even harder.

You finally came to your senses, “Mariana Kate!” You scolded, you rarely used her middle name.

She shrugged, “I’m just telling the truth.”

You sent her a playful glare, turning back to Liam, “Sorry about her, she’s a little horny, and when she’s horny, she’s brutally honest.” You heard her gasp as you said that, and seconds later, she had thrown a pillow at you, you held your hand out, preventing it from hitting you.

“Let’s just,” you pointed to the door, and Liam led you out of the room, both of you doing your best to ignore the cheers and catcalls coming from the boys and your sister. Liam led you to what you assumed was his dressing room. He opened the door for you, allowing you to go in first, ever the gentleman. You sat on a small futon, smiling fondly at the small mess in the room.

He began picking up the clothes, throwing them all in a corner, “Sorry, I’m sharing a room with Louis right now, we’re a bit messy,” he chuckled and you bit your lip.

“It’s fine, I like it, it makes you seem more human,” you admitted and he cringed.

“About what your sister said earlier-“ he started.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s horny and just wants to get in Harry’s pants,” you tried to excuse your behavior.

Liam snickered, shaking his head, “I assure you, Harry’s feelings are mutual,” this caused you both to giggle. “But I was going to say, she isn’t really wrong,” he looked you in the eyes, rubbing his hands together.

“What?” You asked, not quite believing what he was saying.

“I fell in love with you when we’re fourteen, and I never really stopped loving you,” his eyes never left yours.

No fucking way. He had loved you too, and he still did? You knew Liam was the one for you, no competition, but for him, there were millions of other girls who’d kill just to date him, and he wanted you?

“Did you write a song about me?” You quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“Actually, yes,” which is the best answer.

“Oh really?” You asked, genuinely shocked. “Which one?”

He broke eye contact with you, looking down at his hands before looking back at you, “I Should’ve Kissed You,” he said, a small smile settling on his face.

“Is that about the day I left?” The pieces started coming together now.

He nodded, “You’re taking the news of someone being in love with you extremely well,” he teased.

“It makes it easier when you never stopped loving them either,” you confessed, and his whole face lit up, he shot out of his seat.

“Are you serious right now?” He questioned, frozen in place.

You stood, taking a few steps to be in front of him. “I don’t joke about this type of stuff, Liam.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just because of fame and money and stuff? Not that I think you’d do that, but I just never know,” he mumbled, bringing you back to the day you met him.

“Liam, I fell in love with the boy who was bullied and didn’t want anyone to know cause he was scared, I fell in love with the boy who would scream Mariah Carey lyrics with me, I fell in love with the boy who loves my family almost as much as I do, I fell in love with the boy who made me feel at home,” you placed your hands on either side of his face.

“I make you feel like home?” He asked, his voice a whisper. You nodded, tears sweeping up in your eyes.

“I don’t want to miss my chance again, can I kiss you this time?” He asked, his breath fanning your face, but you didn’t mind. Instead of answering, you wrapped your arms around his neck bringing him closer until his lips met yours. It was like your missing puzzle piece had finally been found, his lips moved perfectly with yours, your bodies molding together. It wasn’t desperate or needy, you both knew now, you had all the time in the world. You pulled away first, placing your forehead against his this time.

“N/N, can you make me a promise?” Liam asked, his hands on your waist.

“Of course, L,” you whispered.

“Promise me you won’t leave me this time, promise you’ll stay,” his voice lightly shook.

“I promise Liam.” And like Liam, you never break your promises.

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