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sjsmith56 · 9 months

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How I Really Feel About You

Summary: Bucky’s writer girlfriend moves into the Tower with him. He questions her about her love for Jane Austen’s novels, specifically Pride and Prejudice. For the next movie night he insists they watch Bridget Jones’s Diary and Pride and Prejudice. His reaction and the reaction of the other Avengers surprises her. First person POV.

Length: 3.25K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed OFC, Sam Wilson, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop

Warnings: Imagine Bucky walking across the field as Mr. Darcy (sigh), implied smut.

Author’s notes: I love Pride and Prejudice and while watching the movie again envisioned Bucky Barnes as Mr. Darcy. This is the result.

The movers were scheduled to arrive the following day and I still had so much to pack for my move to the Avengers Tower. After a year of dating when Bucky Barnes, current Avenger and my boyfriend, finally asked me to move in with him into a larger apartment, I said yes. He was everything I ever wanted in a man; just old-fashioned enough to treat me with courtesy and respect, but modern enough not to be threatened by my career that took me away every so often on research trips as I flew around the world, becoming familiar with places I would write about in my novels. Sometimes, he even came with me for a time, or met me there after finishing his own mission. There wasn’t much writing done during those times but his presence certainly added to the romance of those locations, which always made its way into my books.

Being drop dead gorgeous didn’t hurt either, as I still couldn’t believe this man with the body of a god and the face of an angel, had eyes only for me. I could spend a lot of time listing off my own perceived deficits, but Bucky didn’t want to hear them from anyone’s lips. In his eyes, I was perfect, beautiful even when I was on a tear while writing, had bloodshot eyes and stringy hair, while wearing my sweatpants that were a little too tight, so my muffin top was visible. Maybe it was part of his being a 1940s man, but he seemed to like a little padding on a woman’s body, and he certainly liked mine.

Right now, he was helping me finish packing for the move, something I had procrastinated about for several weeks as I finished a final draft of my latest novel before sending it to my editor for fine-tuning. He offered to pack my bookcases, filled with my eclectic and diverse collection of books, memorabilia, and knickknacks, doing a good job until he came to the last one.

“How many different versions and souvenirs of Pride and Prejudice do you need?” Bucky asked.

He was standing in front of what I called “The Shrine,” my collection of all things related to Jane Austen’s masterpiece. It included several different collector book editions; a hardcover one, in dark brown leather with gold gilded letters, a cloth bound edition in red with silver lettering, a special illustrated hardcover edition with protective sleeve and my paperback edition that I actually used to read whenever I felt the need to resume my acquaintance with my favourite title. There were DVDs of all the movie and television versions, including the special collector’s edition of the BBC/PBS series starring Colin Firth, and Jennifer Ehle. Then there were the literary texts about Pride and Prejudice, followed by the knickknacks, souvenirs, and the photo album with the photographs of the various actors that I always took with me to comic cons, premieres and any other occasion where I might run into one of said stars, in the hopes of getting their autographs. It was my obsession and until Bucky started packing the individual items into boxes, I don’t think he realized how much I loved the book, the series, and the movies that I couldn’t watch enough times.

“Says the man with a bookcase full of Hobbit and Lord of the Rings books and the DVDs,” I replied from the linen closet. “But I’m fine with that because I know you love them and they’re good books, good movies, and your Gandalf action figure is pretty cool.”

He appeared in the hallway, leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed. His face was so serious and for a moment I wondered if he was offended that I brought up his own obsession. From the floor I looked up at him.

“What?” I asked.

“How come you’ve never asked me to watch any of the movies?” he asked. “I know you’ve seen all of the Tolkien movies. Yet, you’ve always saved your Pride and Prejudice movies for girls’ night. Is there something I should know? Are they like Bridgerton and you watch them for the sex scenes?”

“No, there are no sex scenes in Pride and Prejudice although I’m sure there is a porn version somewhere if I Google it.” I shuddered. “I would hate to think what they would do with it. Have you never read it?”

His eyes rolled. “Of course, I’ve read it, well some of it,” he clarified. “What’s the big deal?”

“What do you know about Jane Austen and the times in which she wrote?” I countered.

“Not much,” he admitted. “Enlighten me.”

I stood up as this required my full attention. “She was born in 1775, one of eight children of a clergyman,” I replied, knowing the famous author’s background well. “Well educated, she was also born into a social structure that saw a woman of her status as suitable only to be the wife of a gentleman, and mother of his children. Most marriages of the time were arranged, although her parents were a love match, and a woman was considered the property of her husband. The only women who worked for a living were in the working class. If a higher-class woman had to work because of circumstances it was seen as a drop in her social status, as governess was likely one of the few suitable jobs for her. Jane Austen began writing as a child but by the time she wrote her first published novel in 1811 it is known she had been engaged once but changed her mind and never seemed to be involved with anyone after. It doesn’t mean she wasn’t; it just was never made public. Yet her stories of life for a woman in her social sphere gave a real insight into the pressure women had to marry well, and not necessarily marry for love. Most of her heroines did just the opposite, marrying for love.”

“She didn’t write about sex at all?” asked Bucky, puzzled.

“She didn’t have to,” I explained. “It’s referred to in very genteel terms. A character in Pride and Prejudice runs off with a man who has no intention of marrying her, and although it’s not said that they did the deed, they refer to her ruination, and how that will affect the marriage chances of her sisters. In another novel, there is a reference to a teenage girl who runs off with a man, is discarded by him, and finds herself pregnant after. Because he’s a gentleman, and of a higher status than her, his standing is considered more important than hers. She’s the guilty party even though he sweet talked her into bedding with him.”

“I would have kicked his ass,” said Bucky, his face set in stone. “Talking a young woman into sex then leaving her behind with his child. Too many guys like that even in my time.”

Running my arms around his muscular middle I squeezed him hard until his face softened and he kissed me. He was my knight in shining armour with his still strong belief in how men should treat women.

“There were plenty that would but rich, handsome men of a certain status in those days often took advantage of sweet young girls that they saw as objects to satisfy their desires,” I replied. “It’s a universal truth even now, and Jane Austen was well aware of it. That’s why there have been so many versions of it in both books and movies.”

“How many books did she write?”

“Six major novels, all of them adapted into movies or TV series. There are many shorter novels, I don’t quite remember the number and one of them called Lady Susan was turned into a hilarious movie called Love and Friendship.” I placed my hand on his cheek. “Would you do me a favour and read Pride and Prejudice all the way through? Then, when I’m moved in with you, we’ll watch the most recent movie together. It’s a good adaptation, although it cuts out a lot, but it brings some aspects to the story that I like, and we can talk about the differences. Then someday, maybe on a rainy day, when I’m not writing, and you’re not on a mission we can binge watch the BBC series. It is the definitive version and delves so well into the characters. It’s what made me fall in love with Jane Austen’s writing, and certainly pointed me in the direction of writing as a career.”

That beautiful smile of Bucky’s broke out and he tilted his head at my admission. Ever since we met, and he found out I was a writer, he had often shared his admiration of those who lived by the creation of the written word. Of course, his favourite author was J.R.R. Tolkien, but he was also open to many others, and we often spent time on the couch reading together. One of us would be on their back with their feet or head on the lap of the other; it was interchangeable who was where. It was one of the many things I loved about James Buchanan Barnes, that he considered reading an important part of his life.

A week later, I was completely moved into the large apartment in the Avengers Tower. We had three bedrooms, one for us with our own ensuite, one for guests, as my family liked to visit New York at least once a year, and one to use as my writing office. We had a large living / dining area with a kitchen, although we took most of our meals in the communal kitchen with the other Avengers, some with spouses and significant others. Sam had just made a big pot of jambalaya, and everyone was crowded around with a bowl, eager to get some of the culinary treat.

“So, movie night tonight?” asked Kate Bishop as she walked away with her full bowl. “I’m feeling like we need some action movies.”

“Pride and Prejudice,” stated Bucky. “I want to watch it and then watch Bridget Jones’s Diary.”

Sam nearly spit out his drink and I threw a kitchen towel at him. He grinned at Bucky, ready to unleash his wit on him.

“You want to watch some chick flicks? The human cyborg, former Terminator, the Tin Man wants to watch a couple of romance movies?”

“Asks the man who hasn’t had a girlfriend in how long? Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam when he said it. But you know when two guys are sizing each other up in the school yard and they begin with low level insults then one says something that the other can’t respond to? We were at that point. If Sam’s skin was lighter toned, I’m sure he would have been blushing. Everyone watched the two of them to see what would be said next. Bucky looked Sam in the eye, almost daring him to say something.

“Alright, White Panther, we’ll watch them,” said Sam. “I’m sure they will both be very informative on how to get a girlfriend. The bigger deal is how to keep one.”

Bucky put his arm around me and with a shit-eating grin looked at Sam. “I seem to be managing quite well in that department as well. Don’t I, Darling?”

I grinned at Sam then gave Bucky a long kiss. “You’re a wonderful boyfriend. Why don’t we watch the Bridget Jones movie first then watch the source material second.” I looked at all the others. “Everyone has to watch both movies. If I have to watch all of the Fast and Furious movies, you can watch two versions of Pride and Prejudice.”

I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting everyone to laugh so much at the Bridget Jones version. They especially seemed to enjoy the fight scene between Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver, hilariously critiquing the fighting styles. By the time the movie ended even Sam admitted he had been mildly entertained.

“Take it,” whispered Bucky. “It’s likely all he’ll admit to.”

“What about you?” I asked, quietly. “What did you think?”

“I gained some insights into modern dating that I could have used before I met you,” he said, as he gazed into my eyes. “Maybe I wouldn’t have floundered so much. The double standards certainly haven’t changed from the 1940s.”

We kissed as Kate brought up Pride and Prejudice in the TV menu, noting there was a movie version and a series version. As she looked at the series information, she recognized Colin Firth from the Bridget Jones movie.

“Wait, he played Mr. Darcy in two different versions of the story?” she asked. “Maybe we should watch the series.”

“That’s a whole rainy day of watching that you would have to commit to,” I stated. “It’s more faithful to the original book and it’s best viewed with others who want to watch it with you. The movie is a good adaptation and there is a scene near the end that should take your breath away. If it doesn’t then perhaps Jane Austen isn’t for you.”

“Who’s Jane Austen?” she asked.

“The woman who wrote the original book in 1813,” interjected Bucky. “You should read it.”

I wanted to kiss him again for that. With a shrug she queued up the start of the movie and everyone went to the bathroom, refilled their drinks, and restocked their popcorn and candy. Then Kate started the movie and I let myself become immersed in it.

“He’s hot,” I could hear someone whisper, when Matthew MacFadyen first appeared as Mr. Darcy.

“Isn’t she on Yellowstone?” Someone else asked that when Kelly Reilly appeared as Caroline Bingley.

“Shhh,” was the answer and I inwardly grinned.

When Mr. Collins arrived, there were groans at how awkward and clueless he was.

“Reminds me of some guys I grew up with,” deadpanned Kate, then she yelped when Yelena elbowed her to keep quiet as she leaned forward, taking in everything.

There were some comments at the incredible music score, which I had the CD for, as well as a digital version on my playlist. Finally, we got to the scene between Elizabeth and Lady Catherine. There were whispers of “Bitch” at Judy Dench’s portrayal of Mr. Darcy’s aunt. When Elizabeth sent the old woman on her way I settled back, knowing that my absolute favourite part of the movie was coming. Sure enough, there was Lizzie walking in the early morning mist in her nightgown and housecoat. Intellectually I knew it was highly unlikely the daughter of a gentleman would do that but visually and romantically I could feel the emotions in the scene when she turned to see Mr. Darcy walking towards her in the same mist, his overcoat flaring out as he walked, his chest partially visible through the open top of his shirt. His manly stride was just … perfect.

“Damn,” Sam’s voice was loud enough that I almost giggled.

Several audible exhaled breaths showed the scene had hit the mark and I looked up to see Bucky watching the TV screen intently. There wasn’t even a kiss between the characters while they were silhouetted in the morning sunrise, just them touching their foreheads together. It was magic. When the final scene ended, and the credits began to roll I started to turn around then felt Bucky’s face next to my ear.

“That was good,” he whispered. “We’re going to our room right now.”

Before I could respond he pulled me up and practically dragged me down the long hallway to our apartment where he pressed into me against the wall, kissing me feverishly. It wasn’t until we were both laying on the messy bed after, our legs splayed across each other, that he finally said something about the movie.

“I never knew how romantic it was,” he said, then he shook his head. “It’s not even that. They were so constrained by the morals of the time and the expectations to marry at or above your station, but all of their desires just raged under the surface.” He sighed. “That part at the end when Mr. Darcy comes out of the mist. Did you hear all the gasps? Even Sam was affected. I know that it was in the script but it just ….”

His voice trailed off and I lifted my head, propping it up on my hand as I gazed at him, while running my fingers over his chest.

“Do you remember when we met?” I asked. “I was driving all night to get to New York, and I had the flat tire. There I was, out on the highway, in the dark, the fog coming in and not a vehicle in sight. There was no cell service, and I couldn’t even get the first lug nut off the flat tire.” He raised himself to look at me, propping his head up on his hand and gently caressing my arm with his other hand. “Then out from the dark there you were, dressed all in black in your combat gear, your rifle slung over your shoulder. I should have been afraid, but you just strode right to me and looked at the flat tire.”

“It’s not safe for you here,” he stated. “That’s what I said, isn’t it? I remember. Somehow you had suffered a flat tire right in the middle of our stakeout and I just wanted to get you to safety.”

“Every time I see that scene of Mr. Darcy walking through the mist I’m taken back to that night when you helped a lady in distress. You walked me back to the quinjet and told me to stay there until you were all done with your stakeout. When you had your suspects, you changed the tire and strode through the mist just before dawn to get me. It’s how I really feel about you, Bucky. You’re my Mr. Darcy, in the flesh, except we liked each other from the start. We didn’t have to get through our prejudices to find out that we belonged together.”

“That makes you my Lizzie Bennett, doesn’t it?” He smiled. “My beautiful, smart, incredible girlfriend.”

We slept in each other’s arms, secure in the certainty that we were meant for each other. In the morning, after a quick shower, we headed out to the kitchen and found everyone else already up. As Bucky poured us each a coffee, Yelena came up to us and gestured out the window.

“It’s a rainy day,” she said bluntly. “Perhaps we can watch the miniseries of Pride and Prejudice. You did say it is more faithful to the original book.”

I looked at all the others, who had obviously delegated Yelena to the task of getting our participation. Even Sam was there, looking a little sheepish. But she was right. It was a rainy day and the episodes, if we ran them without interruption would take over 5 ½ hours to watch. There were perhaps better ways to spend the day but to me, there weren’t many. Bucky heated up several breakfast sandwiches for himself while I grabbed a muffin, some yogurt, a banana and a coffee. We settled into a spot on the sofa, as did everyone else. Then Yelena started the playback, the lights dimmed, and we all lost ourselves into the life of a Regency family with five unmarried daughters once again.

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grogusmum · 2 years

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Seven Tears part 5

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

W/C: 2800ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Pearl and Ezra move to Rón Inis. Pearl learns there that her selkie love has his own past.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, mentions of spouse abandonment,though set in Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse and his family are white, church nonsense and fisticuffs, food, reader is pregnant, Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning. Excessive use of pet names.

(as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

NOTES: I thought that we were coming to he end of our story, but I was surprised to find out I was wrong. There is more to tell, and more selkie myth I really wanted to include. So I hope you are interested in several more chapters. Happy birthday, Kindred! Enjoy💚

Swept Away

Part 1

Part 4

M'fhíorghrá my true love

Gaeilge translation

A ghrá love

Sláinte health or cheers

A stór my treasure

Rón Inis Island of Seals

Deirdre and Felicia are in the kitchen, Thomas and Patrick in the back bringing wood in when Ezra gives a knock as he walks in the door. Hugh, your younger brother was on the couch with you, both seemingly occupied by the crossword puzzle in the evening paper. Hugh looks very much like an Irish setter who sits on their owner's feet when feeling protective. Ezra smiles at the scene in the parlor, the smells of a roast and potatoes, the fire crackling. He, of course, brings with him the smell of the sea.

You look up and extract yourself from the afghan on your lap and Hugh, handing him the paper. You pull Ezra by his jacket toward the fire to warm him up.

“Alright, Ezra?” Hugh asks.

“Just so,” Ezra smiles and then wraps his arms around you, quietly in your ear, “are you alright, moonbeam?”

“I am,” you murmur, “now.”

“Suppers on the table,” Felica calls.

While everyone eats, you tell them what happened, Ezra squeezes your hand under the table occasionally, then Deirdre and Patrick tell their tales of the visit to St Bridget's and with Colin.

The stories are interrupted periodically by different members of the Brennan Clan when emotions run high.

“But he is not an actual selkie!” Cries Hugh.

“Don be daft, of course he is, lookit him,” Thomas says, tossing a roll at him. Thus earning a glare from their father.

It seems everyone at once knew and did not know that Ezra is truly a selkie.

"Don tell me everyone knew but me?" Hugh wailed.

Deirdre, of course, nods, being the only one who was told outright. Then comes a murmuring of the rumors and guesses. Your hands shake as you confirm it, looking at Ezra for help. He just raises his glass, winks-

"Sláinte" (slawn-cha)

Your family laughs and raises their glasses, once over the shock, the relief you feel stings the corners of your eyes.

“It was only a matter of time before the seal people mixed with the Brennans!” Patrick proclaims above the din.

In the past, they had chosen not to talk about Colin since his desertion, speaking of him only if you wished it. He has shown his colors, was what your Mam would say. But the notion that he would return after all this time and why set everyone's blood to boil anew. Whenever he is mentioned this night, they practically hiss at his name. Muttering curses.

You chose to keep the story of becoming sick to yourself, and of Jamie and Colin fairly brief, being more interested in the part you did not know, like Deirdre’s trip to see Father O'Brien-

“How could he talk to you like that, Mam?” Hugh says scandalized.

“What about annulment?” Felicia asks.

“Oh I am going to the Bishop next, this is not over.”

You sigh, and Ezra puts an arm around you.

Then Patrick’s conversation with Colin-

“Did you pan him out, Da?” Hugh asks.

“Someone beat me to it.” Patrick winks at the pair of you.

You smile a little here and cock your thumb at Ezra, and your brothers erupt. Thomas who is next to him claps his shoulder. Felicia smiles into her lap and sneaks a look at you.

“To my way of thinking, it is my pearl here who truly deserves that honor.” Ezra calls over the pleased chatter and kisses your forehead.

Hugh agrees and surprisingly so does Deirdre.

After a moment everyone settles down.

“So what'll you do now?” Felicia asks. Diedre starts clearing plates, her nervous energy needing to be harnessed for something.

“Well, That of course depends on Moonbeam here. But I’ve spoken with Tilda, from the pub? She is sort of a cousin of mine. She has offered us one of the cottages on Rón Inis (Roan Inish).”

“Wait, she is a Conneely?” You say in wonder, “How did I not know that.”

“You’ve only known her by her married name, love,” Deirdre says over her shoulder from the sink.

It is a commonly held belief that the Conneelys were well mixed with seal folk, no more so than by the Conneely's themselves, so no one questions Ezra’s claim, they just exchange looks.

Your Da looks down at the table.

“It’s not far, a row boat will do”, you assure him.

“I know,” he says with a sad smile, “ I know, darlin’ we would just miss seeing ye everyday.”

“I know.”

Ezra squeezes your knee, and looks at you, his eyebrows lifted in question.

“So, you would come with me?”

You nod. Then a smile breaks wide-

“Yes, Ezra. I would.”

Deidre comes back to the table, the iron skillet in her hand, and smile on her face. She does not hide the tears in her eyes. You jump up from the table and hug her.

“Tis not far, Mam, just a row.”

“You are right, tis just a row!” She shakes off her thoughts of being lonesome for you and puts down the skillet of fresh apple cake on a trivet. “Plates, Hugh.”

Your younger brother pops out of his seat to pull the dessert plates down from the shelf above the sideboard, the ching of silver means he remembers the forks.

“There is much to plan, but for now, let us enjoy some of your mother’s fine cake,” Patrick says, sending a wink your way.

The preparation was swift and quiet. You parents worked on the annulment, deciding you can come to the mainland when needed instead of waiting as it can take months. Your family helped you pack and loaded everything on his fishing boat, you’d have to row a curragh (cah-ra) as well, so you had means to get to and fro as needed.

When the early morning of your departure arrived, you both looked at the somewhat bare little house you had shared. You had decided to only take what was indisputably yours. Which meant anything you brought with you, wedding gifts given to you from your family (thankfully that included the bed, which was a gift from your parents), and anything you bought or made after Colin left. Only months ago you would have left this house without a backward glance, but now, it was the home you had made with Ezra, where you fell in love with him.

Ezra finds you in the bedroom folding some linens. He looks at them, then you. Searching. You look up from the laundry and smile.

“Never let it be said I left a mess behind.”

“We should go, Moonbeam”, Ezra says it like a question. His head cocked to the side, searching your face, for reservations, for fear, for regret.

“We should.” You say looking at him with nary a sign of trebiation. He smiles a huff and bumps his head to yours. You folded the wedding ring quilt and laid it on a blanket rack that rested by the wood stove. Neither had come from your side.

You open the door to find Tilda and Fergus. Fergus carries a large basket filled to the brim. Tilda, a large something, wrapped in a sea green blanket.

“Just want to keep you fed while you settle in,” she smiles, kissing you both on the cheek.

“Wanted to see you off,” Fergus explains, giving Ezra a squeeze on the arm.

The four of you walk together to the dock, your siblings and parents are already there. Not that you can see them in the half light, but dark heads bob in the water. Ezra’s family has come too. He watches the water, with a lopsided smile.

“Do you mind two more,” asks Fergus amiably.

“More hands make lighter work!” Patrick says, shaking his hand.

Your father explains that they would have to use the curragh and jon boat to bring everything to the shore. As the sun rises in earnest and you become anxious to set off.

You and Ezra get in currah, a funny round wicker boat, your two brothers in the flat bottomed jon, the rest board the fishing boat.

"Are you ready, a stòr?"

"I am ready, m'fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah) ."

The sun told you it was mid morning when the island was in full view, and by this time Ezra’s family had made their presence known to all of you. They gamboled, rolled and ducked under the boats. Their excitement growing.

While most of the seal were curious of all three vessels, there was one, small light colored seal, that stuck close to your boat. Eying you occasionally, but watching Ezra.

“Who is this,” you ask.

“This lovely pup is my-” Ezra looks down at her, giving her such a warm look you should have guessed the answer,. “She is my daughter, Cee.”

Ezra looks to you, wondering if this will make a difference.

“Your… daughter?” you say a smile slowing growing. You look down at her, leaning down close. “Hello Cee! Why, aren’t you wonderful!”

Cee rolls in agreement, Ezra gives his hearty laugh and you just beam at the two.

For a time, you let your mind wonder at the life Ezra had known before you, in the sea and out of it. Would it be inappropriate to ask? You know the reputation of selkie men. Some have been confirmed and some debunked with your time with Ezra. Do you want to know?

“How old is she? Cee?”

“Fourteen.” Ezra says, still looking at his seal daughter.

Two sevens, you think. Two possible visits, two possible other lovers. You can not change a selkies nature, and you surely do not want to change Ezra’s so you sit with this, settling yourself with the knowledge, that you knew in abstract but…

“A ghrá? I can see the wheels whirling,” he smiles kindly, he nods to Cee and she dips into the sea and visits another seal beside your fathers fishing boat. “You can ask me anything, I am but an open book to you, to be perused in your good time.”

“Where is her mother?”

Ezra eyes softened still, your question was matter of fact, though not cold, he could see you trying. He smiled.

“She is no longer with us, she passed many, many years ago. Cee was on land with her mother, she would not part from her. But when she fell ill, she brought Cee to the waters edge and introduced us properly and I helped Cee transform, so she could join me when it was time. She was 7. The fates were looking favorably upon us. I could leave the water and help her.”

There was so much more to this story you want to know but there is something more pressing-

“I, we…” you look down at your belly, that is still not giving away the secret of the life growing within.

“Yes,” Ezra eyes shine and his face radiating adoration.

“Ours?” You ask rhetorically, smiling eyes wet, a hiccup of a laugh.

“Ours.” Ezra repeats.

Oh, he wants to close the distance and wrap himself around you, blasted boat… later, he reminds himself. We have all the time in the world, especially if-

“Did you love her very much?”

“I did, though I must admit, there was another. I could not have her so I tried to put her out of my mind. Move on and find something for myself.”

“Oh,” you say your voice sounding small, and Ezra looks at you. His eyebrows drifting up. “Oh,” you say again. Your face warms, both in embarrassment and pleasure.

“Oh,” he repeats playfully.

“Was there anyone else,” you say feeling more confident. You looked at your seal man, he could have had one hundred lovers. It does not matter. He loves you, and he always has. You were having his baby.

“One other, a fellow,” Ezra says grunting into the oars. “Before I ever laid eyes one you.”

You are only taking by surprise momentarily.

“Did he summon you?”

“A stór, I am not avoiding your inquiry indefinitely, but we are to come ashore momentarily.” Ezra settles the oars in the boat. “I will regale you the tale of my first love, if you wish it, at a more opportune time. Perhaps not in front of your family.”

“Well, it would be a fine how do you do, to be accepting of us and not you and your fellow.”

“Truly, my Moonbeam, I heartily agree, but you would be surprised. Regardless, it would perhaps be unseemly to speak of any past sweethearts with your parents, at all.

“Can’t argue with that,” you laugh and the jolt as the curragh beaches.

The fishing boat stayed in the deeper waters, and the small boats were loaded running back and forth. The many hands did make swift work. Soon, your sister, Felicia, was busy sweeping the sand out of the cottages. Your father was up on the roof of the largest cottage, inspecting the thatch. While your mother hollered for him to get his fool self down before he fell off and let one of his sons do it.

“Get up there, Thomas!” Deirdre shouts. “Hugh help your sister.”

Inside, you were getting an impromptu lesson in seaweed soup and how to use it in seafood chowder, from Tilda. Ezra and Fergus were shuttling back and forth from the strand with the last of the furniture, baskets and creates.

“I should help,” you look at them apologetically.

“You need to learn this recipe handed down from the seal people in my family. And you will have plenty of work once we leave. Rest, you are doing so for two.”

You look at her thunderstruck.

“Cousin Ezra confided in me, when he was looking for advice on what to do with, when your-”

“Colin.”

“Yes that,” she says as though finding something distasteful stuck to her shoe. You can not help but smile.

“Thank you,” you suddenly wrap your arms around the older woman, “Thank you for this. We can never truly repay you.”

“You can,” Tilda says, and she walks over to the large basket,beside it is the large something. Tilda set it down and unwrapped it reverently.

“Use this cradle for your babe.”

Your eyes were saucers, it was a tiny boat, encrusted with shells and carved with intricate design.

“Carved from the mast of a sunken ship. Been in my family for generations.”

“Tis beautiful, Tilda! I will use it with honor.”

You placed it next to the fireplace, next to Ezra’s pelt awaiting it’s new home and then turned back to the cauldron Tilda was filling with seaweed.

Once the bed was restrung and made up, and Patrick was satisfied with the state of the thatch, your family bid you farewell. It was tearful, but there were many reminders that you would have to go to the mainland weekly for supplies and that they were welcome on the island whenever they wished. Soon it was just you and Ezra. You smiled, and the you made your way into the cottage closed the door on a very long day. Settled into the two chairs by the fire, you put your feet up thankfully on a small stool. Then you opened you eyes wide and sat up-

“Where is Cee?” you cry.

“Cee will come and go, my pearl. She is quite independent having spent the lion's share of her remembered life in the water.”

“Oh,” you then add quietly. “I didn't know I was taking you from someone, Ezra.”

“Oh Moonbeam,” Ezra takes your hand, looks around, “I will miss our settee, come-”

You stand, and he brings you onto his lap, tucking you into him.

“Is she okay, does she prefer being in seal form?”

“Yes, most Selkies, yearn for the sea. Though, this island feels different. Liminal. A place between. She may be of a mind to come and stay for a spell and then be on her way. So long as she has control over her coat, she will feel at ease.”

“And you?”

“I, a chuisle mo chroí (ah coo-shil mu cree), am at ease where ever you are and yearn but for one thing. You know what that is?”

You look down, playing with the buttons of his shirt-

“Me?” You look at him, bashfully.

“You,” he says. “And soon there will be a little one.”

“Will- what-”

“Someday the child will enter the sea, and will not want to return to land. It is different for every one. We, you will have to be ready. My own, do you think you can do this?”

Ezra watches you closely, you are struggling. Trying.

“Not so little that as a pup or babe that they still need their mama. But no one can stop the march of time anymore than the ebb and flow of the sea.”

“What if I want us all to be together?”

Ezra looks you in the eye. You wait patiently.

“There is one thing, but you would need to want it with your whole being.”

“What is that?” You say quickly.

“You would have to become a selkie yourself.”

PART 6

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💚

You can find more of my writing here MASTERLIST and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#selkie ezra #selkie #ezra prospect #selkie ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect)#selkie!ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect au)#ezra (prospect) x f!reader #selkie au

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ambroselaveau90 · 11 months

Text

⛥THE WITCHING HOUR⛥

After his abuela dies,Matthias discovers that he is a witch when he begins to exhibits unique abilities,tied to the dark days of Salem.But his family decides that living with his eccentric aunts would be the best place for him to learn how to control his abilities.

But as a series of blood-curdling mysteries converge on the town,it forces Matthias to align with others to combat these horrors.Join him as he tries to figure out the secrets of his past and who he can trust as he develops feelings for a enigmatic vampire,while trying to survive in this Hellmouth.

⛥SERIES REGULARS⛥

Caleb Mclaughlin as Matthias Adesanya

A 21-year old newbie witch with immense powers,inheriting them from his ancestors.He shares blood with both the Salem Witches & the Voodoo Practitioners of New Orleans due to being a descendant of Tituba Immaculate & Bridget Bishop.

When his grandmother Marisol dies,his bound magick starts to manifest itself,which leads his folks to send him to live with his aunties Esperanza & Tabitha,in hopes of teaching him how to control his powers.But when he crosses paths with the very peculiar denizens of New York,maybe it was his fate to live in the city that never sleeps.

Stephanie Beatriz as Esperanza Ortega

A 35-year old Witch,the wife to Tabitha Montgomery.She is a powerful witch.Compared to her wife and nephew,she is the second strongest among them innately but her talent lies in offensive magicks like curses & hexes.After her mom passes away,she decides to take in nephew to help him with his newfound powers but also wants to figure out the string of horrific cases that have recently been happening in the city.

Lucy Barrett as Tabitha Montgomery

A 30-year old,a witch,the wife to Esperanza Ortega.She has strong mystical skills & is a strong witch.Compared to her wife and nephew,she is the weakest among them innately but her talents lie in defensive magicks like boundary spells.

Like her wife,she wants to teach her nephew how to use his newfound powers but she also wants to help her family deal with the loss of Marisol,as they each become obsessed with other things to not deal with their grief.

Micheal Cimino as Antonio Salazar

A 23-year old/501-year old vampire,a main protagonist of the Millennium Of Hellfire Series.Sired by a Conquistador in 1520,making him apart of Rebekah Mikaelson's Sireline.As members of The Strix start going missing in the city,Antonio is assigned to investigate the many disappearances but as he follows the trails of his comrades,he ends meeting a trio of witches that are following the same trail.The youngest one interests him the most,if it wasn't for his status as a Weaver,it definitely was the scent of his blood.As they become closer,will Antonio let the horrors of his past consume Matthias in a effort to protect him from his bloody secrets?

George Sears as Gabriel Mortensen

A 22-year old Werewolf,a main protagonist of the Millennium Of Hellfire.Gabriel was born as the youngest child of the Legendary Alphas Lena Grace and Daniel Mortensen on the outskirts of a Russian Village in 1999.As a member of two centuries and highly esteemed Lycan bloodlines,Gabriel was raised along with his sisters to see lycanthropy as a gift.As a string of disappearances and murders start to stress out the leaders of New York's underworld which include his parents,he decides to impress his parents by figuring out who is really doing this,but while he is doing so,he meets two men that interests him,a sassy witch and a charming vampire.

He knows his family would make him a Omega for mating with a vampire,but a witch is out of the question,especially since this witch isn't some nature loving Wiccan,he's a Dark Witch that sacrifices others & practices magicks that make others cower in fear.But as they get closer,will Gabriel let his wolf take over,embracing the bloodlust of his ancestors,or stay in the shadows of his sisters?

#MillenniumOfHellfire #Matthias Adesanya #Antonio Salazar #Gabriel Mortensen #Esperanza Ortega #Tabitha Montgomery #TVDU AU #tvdu spinoff #tvdu oc #teen wolf ocs #ahs ocs #AmbroseLaveaustuff #black witches #anti mikaelson family

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creelmalfoylaufeyson69 · 9 months

Text

Who I write for *WILL GET UPDATED*

Marvel:

Loki Laufeyson

Thor Odinson

Darcy Lewis

Jane Foster

Peter Parker (Tom Holland and Andrew Garfield)

Erik Lensherr

Charles Xavier

Jennifer Walters

Everett Ross

Norman Osborn

Kilgrave

Otto Octavius

Wanda Maximoff

Wade Wilson

Logan

Quentin Beck

Mobius

Emil Blonsky

Zemo

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rodgers

Doctor Strange

Sam Wilson

Steven Grant/ Marc Spector

Peter Maximoff

MJ (Zendaya's)

Gamora

Nebula

Frost Giant Loki (What If)

Kate Bishop

Yelena Belova

Raven Darkholme

Peggy Carter

Aunt May (Tom Holland's Spiderman)

Natasha Romanoff

Valkyrie

Agatha Harkness

Hela

Miguel O Hara

Monica Rambeau

Layla El Faouly

Carol Danvers

Harry Potter:

Severus Snape

Barty Crouch Jr

Lucius Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Bellatrix

Narcissa

Tonks

Remus Lupin

Fred and George

Newt Scamander

Gellert Grindelwald (Johnny Depp’s)

Draco Malfoy

Doctor Who:

Tenth Doctor

Eleventh Doctor

Rose Tyler

Clara Oswald

Amy Pond

Donna Noble

Maratha Jones

River Song

The Master (John Simm)

Good Omens:

Crowley

Beelzebub

Crowley and Aziraphale

Aziraphle

Stranger things:

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Eddie Munson

Enzo

Henry Creel

Nancy Wheeler

Joyce

BBC Sherlock:

Jim Moriarty

John Watson

Sherlock

The Lighthouse:

Thomas Wake

Thomas Howard

Scream:

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Sydney Prescott

Dewey Riley

Gale Weathers

Sam Carpenter

Amber Freeman

Tara Carpenter

Tatum Riley

Kingsmen:

Harry Hart

Agent Whisky

Tim Burton characters:

Victor Van Dort

Emily

Willy Wonka

Sweeny Todd

Mrs. Lovett

Edward Scissorhands

Mad Hatter

Stephen King Characters:

Pennywise

Dan Torrance (Doctor Sleep)

Jack Torrance

DC movies:

Harley Quinn

Roman Sionis

John Constantine (Keanu Reeves)

Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson)

Twilight:

Edward Cullen

Alice Cullen

Caius

Carlisle Cullen

Bridget Jones’ dairy series :

Mark Darcy

Daniel Cleaver

Hugh Grant characters:

Phoenix Buchanan

Forge (DND movie)

Star Wars:

Obi Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Poe Dameron

Din Djarin

Jason Isaacs characters:

Captain Hook

Hap

David Tennant characters:

Peter Vincent

Alec Hardy

#actors #harry potter #marvel cinematic universe #dc universe #horror movies #doctor who #good omens #tim burton films #Star Wars #bridget jones diary #twilight saga #bbc sherlock #the lighthouse movie #stranger things

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femme-witching · 2 years

Text

An Introduction to Witchcraft History

What is Witchcraft?

Witchcraft is traditionally defined as the “exercise or invocation of alleged supernatural powers to control people or events, practices typically involving sorcery or magic.

Modernly defined by global practices of magic, western 14th-18th century beliefs, and Wicca

Derived from the old English word ‘wiccecraeft’

Different cultures did not share a coherent pattern of belief in witchcraft

Blended concepts of magic, sorcery, religion, folklore, theology, technology, and diabolism

Witches were commonly believed to work at night

Sorcery

Sorcery historically predates witchcraft as a concept, and is defined simply as ‘attempts to influence the world through occult.’

Prior to the 1300s, western perceptions of sorcery and magic were in alignment

Early western witches used incantations, divination, amulets, potions, and dolls/ figurines to perform magic

Magic aiming to gain or preserve health, gain property, to help others, for revenge, and for protection from natural disasters of harmful spirits

Magical reliance on deities or spirits influenced future belief of witches working with demons or Satan

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Early Recordings

The earliest recording of witchcraft was found in the 1 Samuel passage of the Bible (931-721 BCE).

King Saul sought the Witch of Endor to summon the spirit of Samuel, the dead prophet, who would help defeat the Philistine army

Samuel prophosized the death of Saul and his sons, who died in battle by suicide

Old Testament- Exodus 22:18 translated from the Torah

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”

passages against divination, chanting, or contact with the dead

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

European Witch History

Witchcraft was perceived in the west as cannibalism, orgiastic rites with the devil/ Satan, and performance of black magic. Despite being written off as devil worshippers, many early European witches were just hurbalists and healers.

European Witch Craze

Malleus Maleficarum was a book that spurred European hysteria surrounding witches, written in Germany in 1486. “Malleus Maleficarum” translates to “The Hammer of Witches”, and was written by Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger. It acted as a guide to identifying, hunting, and interrogating witches, and greatly influenced European witch hunts and paranoia.

Accused witches gave forced confessions after being tortured

Accused witches were executed by burning or hanging

Witch hunters targeted widows, single women, and societal outcasts

Between 1500 and 1660 CE, 80,000 accused witches were executed

Witches were associated with lust and the devil

The “Malleus Maleficarum” also greatly influenced King James VI of Scotland, who was one of Europe’s most noutorious witch hunters. In 1589 James went to Denmark to meet his new bride, Princess Anne. On their return to Scotland, a raging storm damaged several of James’ ships, casuing one of them to be lost at sea. A woman in Denmark confessed to using magic to cause the storm, and she was executed alongside several others accused of witchcraft by Anne. This spurred the prosecution and deaths of 3,000 accused witches in Scotland.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

American Witch History

This section discusses European-based perception of witchcraft, and is not related to indigenous cultural practices.

The Salem Witch Trials

The Salem Witch Trials were a time of mass hysteria in Salem, Massachusetts in 1692. The trials occurred due to Puritain religious paranoia and witches were used as a scapegoat for smallpox and conflict with Naumkeag Native Americans. The trials began through this series of events:

9 year-old Elizabeth Parris and 11 year-old Abigail Williams had fits of bodily contortion and uncontrolled screaming

Symptoms spread to more young women, and hysteria spread

Sarah Good, Sarah Osborn, and Tituba- a slave of the Parris family- were accused of witchcraft

Tituba confessed to cursing the girls and accused others of black magic

Bridget Bishop was the first person executed for being a witch in Salem on June 10, 1692 by hanging

Though modern research suggests the bodily contortion and screaming was likely caused by fungal poisoning, the hysteria was attributed to witchcraft and black magic. Over the course of the Salem Witch Trials, 150 people were accused and 18 were executed.

Connecticut Witch Craze

Alse Young was the first American executed for witchcraft, killed in Windsor, Connecticut in 1647. In Connecticut, 46 people were accused of performing witchcraft and 11 were executed for it prior to 1697.

Virginia Witch Craze

In Virginia, 24 witch trials occurred from 1626-1730. In Lower Norfolk County, Virgina, a law was passed against false witchcraft accusations in 1655. The most famous accused witch from Virginia was Grace Sherwood, who was said to have slaughtered pigs and hexed cotton. Sherwood was brought to trial in 1706, and tested as a witch using the ‘sink or float’ method. Sherwood was convicted as a witch and imprisoned for 8 years.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thank you for reading!!

#witchcraft #witchblr #witch #history #witch history #magick #witch trials

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wardenparker · 2 years

Note

Hello hello! I’m so sorry you’re not feeling, sending you all the best!! 🥰 If you’re feeling up to it, I’d love to know what drew you to A Discovery of Witches! And would you recommend reading the books first or watching the show first? Or do both simultaneously? 😂 Also this is a little embarrassing, but I have no idea what’s it about, I’ve only ever heard people mention the name and that they liked it 😅

Soooo, ADOW is basically all the things I love most all put in one book series. Like I’m gonna be honest, I could gush about this series forever. So I’m going to try to be concise in this answer and if you want to DM me for full scale ranting, you’re more than welcome.

The main character is a woman named Dr Diana Bishop, who is a college professor. She’s on the younger side for her field but not a phenom or anything (I think she’s supposed to be 33 in book 1 but somebody correct me if I’m wrong on that). Diana is a NERD. Like yes she has athletic hobbies, but the woman is an undeniable geek in all the right ways. That was huge for me when I found the book about ten years ago. I needed to see that part of my personality reflected in a heroine and hadn’t yet (don’t come at me with Hermione Granger, because I never identified with her while growing up on HP - I identified with forgotten fuck up child Ron Weasley). Additionally, and very importantly, Diana is descended from Bridget Bishop, who was the first victim of the Salem Witch Panic of 1692. These are books in which magic is not only real - it is dying.

Enter the vampire Matthew Clairmont. Our romantic lead is dashing, dangerous, handsome, intelligent, mysterious, and everything else you ever wanted from the leading man in a romance novel. Matthew is also a nerdy ass academic, but his nerdiness is less obvious than Diana’s. We come to find out that Matthew’s research revolves around mapping the DNA of supernatural creatures, as he is trying to discover how/why they are dying off.

Diana and Matthew *learn* from each other. They grow together. They are stubborn, proud, occasionally argumentative, generous, caring, loving people who the world does not want to be together and they say FUCK YOU and do it anyway.

I’ll be honest. When I found the book in the bookshop, I skimmed the back cover and went “History and magic? Cool” and picked it up just thinking it would be something to pass a few hours. But Deborah Harkness’s ability to world build and present full formed characters in small snapshots is remarkable. The families that surround Diana and Matthew are enviable and fascinating.

It’s a world I wish I could see around me - and I can if I choose to. Because ADOW doesn’t take place in an alternate reality, it explains how the world of magic and creatures is hidden from humans. It is *made* for readers and fan content creators to just dig right into and nestle inside, carving out their own little pieces of home. I don’t know why I’ve never written for it. I always say that it’s time to try and yet I haven’t. Perhaps I just haven’t found the right story to tell yet.

Yes, this is the SHORT version of why I love ADOW. Just the up front familiar facts. This is my dust jacket for you to pick up in the bookshop and think “Huh. Cool.” But to answer a very important question: I think you should consume the series in whatever order (book vs tv show) best suits your attention span and interest level. But think of them as companions. They go together, one is not a substitute for the other. (I read the books first, obviously, and I love that I did. Watching the show felt like saying hello to a very old friend). And there are also audiobook versions if that’s more your jam!

#ADOW #a discovery of witches

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marzipanandminutiae · 4 years

Note

Hey, I know you live in MA and are into history. Do you have any strong opinions about the salem witch trials + the romanticization/horror storyfication of the trials?

Yes. But I have different thoughts about the romanticization and/or horror-ifying of the events and the town of Salem as it is today.

For the first, strongly against. 20 innocent people were executed, and more suffered mental and physical trauma during imprisonment. It’s not a case of ~creepy evil demonic magic~ or even #girlpower with witches as we now understand them victimized by the Christo-patriarchy. A bunch of Puritans judicially murdered a bunch of other Puritans. The least respect the victims deserve is to be represented accurately.

(My favorite fantasy representation of the Salem panic is the Physick World series by Katherine Howe. The tired old “real witches in Salem!” trope made new by a historian author with clear understanding of her subject, who manages to handle it gracefully and in its proper context.)

The city of Salem gets a lot of flak for the way it capitalizes on a tragedy, mostly by people who’ve never been there or only visited once. And yeah, if you’re going as a tourist, all you’re going to see is the very tacky surface: the crappy tourist trap “museums,” the “Good Witch/Bad Witch” shirts, the poster that looks like a contract selling your soul to Satan in exchange for Hot Demon Sex(TM).

,..okay, I only saw that poster in one store. But still.

However, I can’t hate modern Salem, no matter how tasteless some of its cash grabs may be. Because I spend a lot of time there when the world is as it should be. And I unabashedly love it.

Tourism from the Panic has allowed a place that might have sunk into obscurity when it lost the shipping trade to flourish, becoming one of the weirdest and most wonderful cities in the USA. Salem has so many fun, unusual shops and restaurants; so many events that wouldn’t be sustainable anywhere else. So much emphasis on historical preservation, from stunning houses and public buildings to actual legit museums like the Peabody-Essex Museum and the Phillips House. And, yes, good tributes to the Panic victims, like the official memorial and an interactive show called “Cry Innocent” (based on the trial of Bridget BIshop).

Plus, you��d be hard-pressed- with apologies to Giles Corey -to find many communities with such open celebration of individuality. Alternative types, vintage and historical fashion enthusiasts, LGBT folks, pagans and witches, and combinations of the above all get to feel normal and accepted. Sure, there’s inter-community drama and the usual biases can still rear their ugly heads. But overall, the general atmosphere is very “anything goes.”

The tacky tourist stuff makes me cringe, but I can’t really regret what Salem has become. So little of the weirdness I love is even consciously linked back to the Panic that Salem’s witchy vibe has kind of become its own thing. I love Salem. I hate the fictionalizing/commodification of historical tragedies. I don’t think these feelings are mutually exclusive.

But cheesy, inaccurate horror movies about the Salem Panic can kiss my ass.

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peeterparkr · 5 years

Text

limits of desire⤳t.h.||4

chapter 4: choose your flowers

MADE OF HONOR|AU

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the songs and the running away

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, fluff-ish, angsty(a bit), tom is an idiot, guardians of the galaxy, wedding

word count: 6.2k (whoops sorry)

As usual tell me what you think, this chapter was kind of painful to write because IT’S SOOO MUCH HAPPENING

previous chapter

next chapter

series masterlist

The world’s worst hangover, that’s what Tom was calling it. Facing the consequences of that night. Tom had faced the worst kind of memories from past encounters. Crazy girls sending him flowers, girls throwing their purses at him, girls stealing his clothes. Aftermaths that weren’t so nice to remember. But this one, he wanted to remember.

But seemed that this one had the worst side-effect. A constant headache would’ve been better. Though it had been almost 2 weeks already.

She may be the face I can't forget

And he had that stupid song stuck in his head. The entire night had been on loop. He couldn’t focus on anything. Not his lines, not in boxing, not in that stupid audition he had had. It was awful. There were no answers, it was dumb. It didn’t make any sense for him, because he was angry at himself, because he had to follow his stupid rules. Right? Couldn’t he break them?

The only person that could comfort him was exactly the subject he needed to be comforted from. Good idea, to lose your wise adviser.

He decided to go to the gym, maybe that could get her off of his mind. Everything about that night seemed to be blurry. He’d meet Haz there, he was also training. Maybe seeing his best friend could help him. Y/N was leaving on that day.

Tom didn’t feel like training, however, and that was off-character of him. He tried lifting, but he couldn’t. He tried to run but fell off the machine. Tom groaned, making the whole gym turn around and stare. Nothing was working.

Haz had seen him and gave him a confused stare, as he ran over.

“You okay, mate?”

“Yeah,” Tom lied. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everything is fine.”

“Is it?” Haz questioned.

Tom hated when Haz was condescending.

“Yes. Fine.”

There was something they needed to talk about and Tom could not find a way to tell him, because if anything, Tom didn’t know exactly what he wanted to talk about. Tom decided to box instead.

Haz didn’t push it because, honestly, he had been ignoring Tom those days. Tom had been extremely annoying, and clumsy. He was like a broken-hearted teenager. Like a small child throwing a tantrum. So, of course, Haz had been ignoring him. Tom didn’t blame him. He couldn’t stand himself either.

He was so useless. He had broken the coffee machine, burned half of his breakfast and watched all Bridget Jones’ Diary movies on the first Sunday, then the next Sunday he had pizza for breakfast and watched Notting Hill, Best Friends Wedding and Pretty Woman and then Notting Hill again, he had cried on that one. ‘Bridget Jones is a classic and Julia Roberts is fantastic in everything she does’.

Tom was...pathetic. But he was boxing now, he was getting back on track. So while giving a stronger than normal uppercuts to his punching bag, his friend watched him doing his own gym routines.

Cold sweat ran down Tom's forehead as he went through the events of that night, it had been two weeks already. He remembered, again and again, every single little detail of the night. Andrew Jacob’s wedding had been, in general, merely forgettable.

But there are things one can’t dare to forget.

Like that red dress, or those words, or that one dance. Things he’d love to forget, but that were roaming his head, things he hadn't thought about before, or maybe he had but had suppressed them all along. While punching, he couldn't stop shaking, his punch was not precise, and no matter how hard he hit he could not get anything out. The lack of concentration made him shudder, with the little courage that remained, he had realized the great mistake he had made.

Every single detail counted. But there had been plenty mistakes he had committed that night.

Harrison approached him. “Alright, what’s up?”

Tom looked up. “I fucked up.”

----

2 weeks before

“Y/N hurry we’re running late already,” Tom yelled. He had been waiting for about half an hour already and y/n hadn't come out of her room.

“Coming! I’m just…” She trailed off, her voice was muffled behind her closed bedroom door. “Two minutes!”

Tom closed his eyes. “Y/N!” She had been so weird about this, so unlike her. It wasn’t the first wedding they’d gone to together. Sure, usually it took her a lot of time to get ready, but she usually had her bedroom open and he’d watch her put her makeup on, while he scrolled through Instagram. But not this time. She had been avoiding his calls and she had been barely texting him. He didn’t know what had gotten on to her, she had even come to premieres with him, what was up with being so serious about a damned wedding.

“Actually, I need help, come here,” she said, finally opening her door.

Tom rolled his eyes as he walked over. He scrolled through his phone. “It’s just a party y/n.”

“Yeah, I know, but remember I might be leaving so it might be our last in a while,” she said, coming out of her restroom as she was putting on her earrings. “Would you mind helping me with my necklace?”

Tom finally looked up. His breath was taken away, and he almost dropped his phone. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. With the red dress perfectly silking her body and her hair tied up in a bow, her bare neck inviting him to cover it with tattoos of his kisses. He had seen her with that dress, already, but he hadn’t… Observed her. Her lips were as bright red as her dress and her eyes had a certain sparkle leaving only to his imagination how stained he could get him with that lipstick. He cleared his throat. It was wrong to think of his best friend that way.

“Um…”

She bit her lip. “Too much? Is it too much? I should’ve bought the other dress, right? I could still change-I think I have another--”

“What?” Tom’s eyes widened. “No, no, no, no, you look... don’t...it’s just, wow, you...Wow.”

She chuckled. “Really?”

“Yeah, wow,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Wow?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yes, breathtaking...Wow.”

She blushed. “Thanks.”

“You’re gonna make the bride feel bad,” he licked his lips “You...you look amazing.”

“You don’t look bad yourself,” she complimented him. She walked over to him, just inches away. She cleared her throat. He gulped. “Uh, mind helping me...with my necklace?”

He stared down at her lips but then cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he took it from her hands as she turned around. He was being stupid. But he put it on anyways, gently caressing her neck with his cold fingers. She went stiff as soon as he touched her, and he took his time to put it on. It was contrasting. Mistake number one.

“Uh, so now...uh,” He cleared his throat. “You’re ready, right?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, yeah, oh, uh...perfume!”

“Chanel, right?”

“Is there any other?” She smirked.

Glasses were clicking, and people were murmuring. In a room where the music was as loud as it could be, and the dresses as beautiful as they could get. Tom and y/n had arrived earlier at the venue, and they were talking to some other people. Tom already had a glass of white wine on his hand, trying to digest what was going on. He couldn’t stand it. Some of the other guests were very interested in y/n, they were not so subtly flirting with her, and she responded subtly, with smooth and soft fingers moving and cheeky grins.

“The place is very pretty,” y/n commented. “I wouldn’t get married here, but you know.”

Tom chuckled. “Where would it be?”

“Something more fairytale-like, I guess,” she chuckled. “I dunno, guess somewhere magical.”

“Magical?” Tom chuckled.

“Oh shush.”

“What would make it magical?” He asked.

She sighed. “I guess… I’d have sunflowers,” she started. “Yes, and daisies.”

“Flowers? That’s it, that’s the magic for you?”

She paused. “No, I guess not, I guess the person would make it magical because I’d be marrying someone who'd love me, flaws and all, someone who knows me, who guesses my thoughts before I could even think them,” she explained. “Someone, who I trust, you know? Whom I don’t have to pretend with.”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “I guess.”

“But yes, flowers,” she chuckled. “Flowers are important.”

Tom smiled but then let out a soft laugh. “You know what my ideal wedding would be?”

She just looked up.

“Non-existent,” he winked.

She gave him a forced chuckle. “Right.”

Suddenly, all the muttering stopped. Everybody had their stares fixed on the newlyweds who were now happily prancing around with their rings. People were clapping at them, celebrating. But y/n and Tom were only faking to be happy about them, they were rather bored.

“Bet this will be the most predictable wedding ever,” Tom whispered on y/n’s ear, as he joined the clapping.

She looked at him. “Hm?”

“You know, all of them are, lately,” Tom said. “That’s why I’m never going to have one, I don’t want to fall into that cliché.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile and then turned to the couple. “Their first dance,” she whispered.

I must have been through about a million girls, I'd love 'em and I'd leave 'em alone.

“Fooled Around and Fell in Love” By Elvin Bishop. Not exactly the most ideal song for a first dance song, but he knew the backstory to it. Andrew’s and Michelle’s first date had consisted of watching Guardians of the Galaxy and their first kiss had been when Gamora and Peter Quill were listening to that song.

I didn't care how much they cried, no sir, their tears left me cold as a stone

Tom saw how y/n’s eyes had glazed slightly as she mouthed the lyrics to the song, her lips curving just slightly to form a subtle smile. Tom knew he was supposed to watch the couple. He truly knew it. But he had time to do something else. Tom had time to observe a little more than usual. Observing how her red lipstick made her smile illuminate her eyes more, he observed the way her hair pushed back made her look beautiful, he saw how she was trying to pull a little hair back that was getting on her way, but he didn't mind that it wasn't perfectly combed, because she looked perfect. Tom realized that maybe in another context, the song was perfect for them. The song was singing to him.

But then I fooled around and fell in love

He cleared his throat, hell, he would never tell her about all the songs he could dedicate her. He would give everything to her, and she seemed not to notice. Just as she didn't see how dazzled he was by all of her, from her playing with her hands to her lost gaze, to her lip-syncing to the song. Perfectly Imperfect.

Tom didn’t even notice when the song had ended. But it kept playing on the back of his mind. I fooled around and fell in love.

They were all clapping. Tom joined them, too. They toasted and then the couple kept their prancing through the tables.

They ended up talking about how awful the wedding was going. Their vows had been...boring. Both y/n and Tom said they were dull, nothing too incredible. Of course, it was Andrew Jacobs they were talking about, but it was just too… predictable.

“You know, I would’ve said something even more splendid,” she murmured to Tom. “You know, it’s the love of your life who you’re marrying.”

“Some people don’t marry the love of their life,” Tom shrugged.

“Well, I will,” she bit her lip.

He chuckled. “What would you say?”

She bit her lip. “I dunno.”

“Ah, c’mon, you can’t just say they were plain and boring without coming up with something better,” Tom teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, they said something that people usually say, I mean, saying ‘I’ve been waiting for my whole life for this’, like, really? So generic? Even if I was marrying someone I wasn’t in love with I’d come up with something more original.”

There were lights all across the room, creating a perfect atmosphere for the already romantic ambience. The guests were thrilled to be watching the newlyweds. Y/N and Tom were sitting down on their table with Haz, Tuwaine and his girlfriend, and some other childhood friends.

“Let’s see then,” Haz pushed. “Let’s see our writer in all her splendour.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “C’mon.”

“Yes, go on, y/n, what would you say?” Tuwaine insisted.

She chuckled. “I need… I need to say it to someone, so it feels more real, okay?” She laughed. “Okay, okay, okay, Harrison,” she looked at him.

Haz laughed. “No, no, say it to Tom, let’s see how much he can resist without wanting to run away for listening to something that’s close to a commitment.”

Y/N gulped and wrinkled her nose. “No, no, it’s fine, then.”

Tom laughed. “It’s alright, I won’t run.”

She gulped but turned to him. She smiled. “Thomas.”

“y/n, my love,” Tom sang.

She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. They stared into each others’ eyes. Haz and Tuwaine chuckled.

“Guys, please,” she giggled. She looked away. “Wait, should I pretend he’s someone else? I--I can’t,” she pinched Tom’s cheek.

“No, no, imagine you’re marrying him right now,” Haz said.

Y/N looked down. “I’m screwed.”

Haz laughed. “You said you could come up with something even if you weren’t in love.”

Y/N glared at him but turned back to Tom. Tom rolled his eyes and they stared at each other, again. He smiled. She bit her lip.

“Y/N…” Haz insisted.

“Sh, I’m thinking,” she defended herself. She blinked a few times, and Tom could take into her features again. She had a unique way to look into someone’s eyes as if she was trying to undress their soul.

Tom felt naked with her, always. Not in the way he was with the other girls, but in a way that he could only be himself, in which he had no shield.

“They say love is easy when the right person comes,” she started. “I guess I had been dreaming a lie, waiting for that prince charming to arrive on a white horse, I just hadn’t realized that maybe he was riding a motorbike,” she cleared her throat as Tom chuckled lightly but kept looking her in the eyes. “I’ve always thought that I was wrong but suddenly, you became the right answer and I didn’t have to hide anymore, because you had always been there,” her voice was like a song he loved to listen to. “We’ve shielded under that label of best friends when we didn’t realize it didn’t have to be a boundary but a firm step in which we could always rely on because when it comes to choosing the person I’d love to spend the rest of my life with I couldn’t think on anyone else,” she paused, and Tom gulped. “Because it’s simple and as I said before when it’s the right person, it’s easy, and it doesn’t have to be the complicated mess we tend to make. So tonight, looking you in the eyes, I hereby promise you that I’ll always try to be the right answer, and to keep on strong to build over that firm step we’ve formed along because I know that although it is easy, we still have so much to discover, and so much to love.”

Tom got lost into her words. He felt a dagger across his chest. She looked away and laughed. “Wow, that was intense.”

“Oh my god,” Tuwaine chuckled. “I even fell for it, man, you’re good.”

“Fuck, how did you even come up with that shit?” Haz asked. “What the fuck,” he laughed.

“See? Even if you’re not in love you can come up with something so not generic,” she coughed and downed her glass.

Tom blinked. What the hell was going on?

He forced a laugh as he downed his glass, too. “Yeah, that was…” He cleared his throat. “Talented girl we have here.”

She cleared her throat and blushed. “Yeah.”

The wedding continued, the toast, the people dancing, the awkward pictures. Everything a wedding includes. Even the surprise for the groom.

Y/N looked beautiful, and Tom had not hesitated to remind her all night. They ate, laughed as they used to, and even shared their desserts, they had given two cakes at the wedding, these millennials with their ideas, but they didn't complain as they could enjoy the perfect combination of chocolate cake and strawberry cake.

It was not until the time to throw the bouquet, that they began to circumvent the small motivations.

Their friends insisted that y/n should go to catch it that maybe she’d find someone now that she had graduated, she said she was fine, that she didn't have to go, but they ended up convincing her. Y/N caught the bouquet, without even trying.

And that wasn't even the biggest deal, because, Tom had caught the garter. Tom laughed at how now they, following the tradition, should marry. They joked with that, trying to come up with ways he should propose, and how they’d serve pizza and lemon pie, with chocolate cheesecake at their wedding, or how they were going to have sunflowers instead of roses.

“She already has her vows,” Haz laughed. “It’s perfect.”

The dancing had started, and all the table had joined the dance floor. Tom was trying to show some moves as he pulled y/n to him. With each song, they’d find themselves a little more glued to each other, letting the music absorb them and enamouring them.

A particular song started. She, from Notting Hill. They ended up getting closer, with flutters of butterflies in Tom's stomach from being oh-so-close.

A particular verse hit.

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd

They put their foreheads together, they couldn't blame the alcohol since they had not drank much, just a few glasses, but they were sufficiently sober for both of them to know what they were doing.

Whose eyes can be so private and so proud

Their noses pressed against each other, and Tom's hands caressed her back slowly.

No one's allowed to see them when they cry

A small skim of lips was what caused the first spark, to the sound of the slow ballad to which they danced along to.

She may be the love that cannot hope to last

Tom wanted more, so he came closer again, brushing his lips against the corner of y/n's lips.

May come to me from shadows in the past

Her hands were resting sweetly on the back of his neck.

That I remember 'till the day I die

Tom had leaned in, ready to seal the deal. But she had stopped him, only half an inch from his lips touching hers she had moved away from his gaze.

“Don’t do this to me,” she whispered, her eyes were glazed again. “Please don’t.”

Tom hadn’t even been able to respond before she left the dance floor.

Tom had followed her, he did not want to lose her, because he knew her. He knew how she loved to disappear whenever she wanted to cry. She liked to disappear.

There was a bridge outside the venue, where she was leaning on, staring at the water and her reflection on it, with a few light posts decorated with red flowers. She was quiet, he guessed she was crying. Because he knew that she didn’t like to be seen crying. He gave her a few moments until he approached her.

"You left, like Cinderella at the ball," Tom mentioned. Clearing his throat. “Though I guess I can’t blame you.”

"I don't want to leave things on you so easy," she said without looking up, he confirmed it, she had cried. "Although, if I had actually done it, it would have been very easy."

"Why did you do it, then?" Tom asked.

"Run away?" She laughed cynically. “You really are asking why?”

"The vows, the dress," Tom shrugged. “You practically crafted it.”

She stayed quiet.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to?" Tom frowned. “Would it be such a sin if we had kissed?”

"Friends don't kiss," she reminded him.

"I know a few who do," Tom shrugged. "Though it’s clear, we’re not that type of friends, you’ve left that clear."

“I’m protecting myself,” she frowned.

“You’re protecting yourself by running away?” Tom chuckled, digging his hands in his pockets. “It’s not the first time.”

"You’re right, and we’ve both ran away from it," She scoffed. "I dunno about you, but I have many reasons to, I don't want to be just one more."

"Just one more?"

"Another one who falls for the lie that your angel eyes are, another who got tangled up in your smile, and who you hypnotized to leave her the next day, I do not want to be another game, Tom," she answered. "Less now that I'm so fragile."

"It's just a kiss." He shrugged, looking away.

"No, Tom, it's not just that, and you know that" she glanced seriously. "It's the fact that it's just a kiss for you, that's the point."

"Maybe I've always wanted a kiss." He bit his lip.

"So you can throw me away the next day?" She pressed her temples, closing her eyes.

"It would not be like that," Tom told her. "Look, let's forget it."

"It would have been easy now that I'm leaving, wouldn’t it?” She clenched her jaw.

"So, it’s decided, you're leaving," Tom finally turned back to her.

"I decided to accept the job," she explained. "I need to get out of everything, my routine, my family, the school, I need a break from you, Tom, I need a break until we can keep our hands to ourselves."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

"You know exactly what I mean, just… Forget it, okay? Let’s pretend it never happened” she turned to him. “Besides, it's also my dream, I'm going to fulfil my dream, would be stupid if I didn't."

Tom felt his heart breaking, shattering, completely destroyed, he couldn't let her go, especially now that he was taking things into account. Tom needed her, Tom needed her to stay sane. Tom had been away from her other times like when he was going to film or a press tour, but if she was leaving it would mean that many things would change. Especially after all that night.

“We are drunk,” Tom said. “We can blame it on that.”

“We are not, Tom,” she answered. “You know it, and I know it, it was stupid, you’re gonna end up shagging a bridesmaid.”

“I won’t.”

“You will, that’s how it goes,” she chuckled. “Lots of them had that doggy-bowl look.”

Tom nudged her. “They probably don’t think my nose is bent.”

“Your nose?” y/n frowned as she laughed slightly. “Who said that?” She turned to look at him, the moonlight reflected on her skin made her smile beautifully.

“You did!” Tom giggled. “The night we met, you said it dropped down at the bottom, a feature accentuated by the thinness of my lips.”

y/n threw her head back, finally laughing. “Oh my god, I did! Then I called you... What did I call you? I said you were desperate...”

“Uh-huh, desperate for attention from being alone!” Tom continued.

“And I said you validated yourself by having…”

“Sport like meaningless, insatiable sex, yes.” Tom ended her sentence laughing. “Man you really ended me that night.”

“I mean I was right about that, I’m still right” she chuckled with sadness. “But I lied about your nose,” she confessed with a small smile upon her face. Tom widened his eyes with surprise. “Wanna know what I was actually thinking?”

“What? Of course!” Tom looked at her.

“I thought you were hot,” she blushed looking down giggling. “But you called me boring.”

“Because I was trying to sleep with you!” Tom laughed. “Haven’t tried since, what are the odds now?”

She stayed quiet, as she looked up at him, she ruffled his hair. Watching her, made Tom feel a jolt inside her. He was blushing, too.

“Tom, you won’t change, and I mean, I love you and all, but it’s always, I’m your backup plan.”

“y/n, you’re not-” Tom tried to convince her, but she placed her hand on his mouth, impeding him from talking.

“No, I know I am... you are not trying to hurt me, I know, and we are friends, okay, I know that, I just need us to stay that way, I know you can’t stop flirting, and I know that what was about to happen tonight was only because you were stuck with me, and I guessed I forced it.”

Tom didn’t answer right away. Maybe she was right, maybe it had been just the moment. She looked down at her glass.

“Did you mean it?” Tom asked her. “The vows?”

“I…”She sighed. “I didn’t,” she sentenced. “I mean, in all seriousness, Tommy, it’s okay, honestly, I let it clear, we’re good like friends, and besides I don’t have that doggy-bowl look anyway, and maybe your nose is actually kinda bent.” She smiled at him.

“6 months,” he said. “24 Sunday’s.”

“6 months,” she repeated.

Tom looked down at the blue water that was reflecting the moon, he jumped to sit on the edge of the bridge.

"Thomas!"

“I’m gonna jump I can’t survive without you,” he said, she laughed as she hugged him from behind.

“Oh my god, stop, can’t you take anything seriously?” She asked him.

“I can’t,” he answered, kissing her cheek.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she said as he laughed as getting back to his feet. He hugged her. Again, she looked up at him.

He stared down at her lips again, it could be easy, she was leaving anyway. He would have time to think about it. But no, she had made a point. It wasn’t just a kiss, it meant way so much more. It meant ruining a powerful friendship. Because he couldn’t give in, he couldn’t love her the way he was supposed to. She deserved way much better than him. Even if her words had said she didn’t want to kiss him, her eyes were begging him to do so.

He leaned over, anyway. And she did, too. But before she could do anything, Tom stopped.

“I can’t afford to lose you.”

“You’re not losing me,” she whispered.

“If I do this, if we do this, I’d have to let you go,” Tom cupped her cheek.

“I’m leaving, Tom,” she said, staring at his lips then back to his eyes.

“But you deserve someone who will stay, someone who is the right answer, and I’m just the wrong one, alright? I’ll never be able to feel the way I am supposed to feel, and I look at you and I know that if I do this, I’d have to find a way to sneak out of your life forever and I couldn’t do that to myself. I can’t do that to you.”

She looked down. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, I am the idiot.”

“No,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Then, I guess, this is goodbye, I can’t keep making such a fool of myself,” she said. “Please, don’t look out for me now, you just can’t give a woman hope and then throw her away, see?” A cheek started to run down her face. “I’m just another one, we didn’t even have anything yet you know you’d throw me away, but don’t worry, I’m used to taking the trash out.”

“Y/N.”

She smiled. “Don’t bother.” She kissed his cheek and left before Tom could ever say anything.

He didn’t go after her. Tom did the only thing he knew how to do, he flirted with a bridesmaid. At the end of the wedding, they ran into y/n, again who was in her dazzling red dress, watching them with pain.

She rolled her eyes, and smiled at him, and then escaped.

He had not talked to her since.

-----

“And you didn’t stop her?” Harrison asked. “Even after all she said?”

“I was drunk.”

“We both know you weren’t,” Harrison scowled. “And you ruined your friendship with her, look, you should…Maybe it’s too late.”

“At what time is she leaving?” Tom asked, getting up. “I need to see her.”

Harrison stared at him. “I don’t know, I didn’t ask her, she only wanted her family to say goodbye, why didn’t you go yesterday? She probably doesn’t even want to see you today.”

“Because I’m an idiot, I can’t let her leave without saying goodbye,” Tom reproached and left to the locker room. Haz joined him at the lockers.

“So, you’re realizing stuff just the day she’s leaving?” Haz said as Tom was getting out his stuff to shower.

“Realizing what? She’s my best friend, I just can’ let something stupid make us fall apart before she leaves,” Tom complained. “Hey, look, I screwed up and want to make up for it, is it that bad?”

“The longer that it takes you to realize that you’re in love with her, the harder you will fall,” Haz said, as Tom closed his locker door.

“I’m not in love with her, I just want to mend things, okay?” Tom walked away to take a shower. His best friend knew him better.

“Sure, Tom, keep saying that to yourself,” Haz yelled. Tom stepped into the shower, to dive back into the thoughts. Tom wasn’t sure if it was love, but that night, at the wedding he had felt something.

Yes, of course, he had thought about her. She had been the only girl he had never scored with. Tom didn’t know if it was a mere whim, or if he actually wanted to have her for him. It was a fantasy that he couldn’t even try. Because he wanted her, but he didn’t know how he wanted her, friends with benefits, maybe? No commitment needed. No strings attached. But that was being so selfish because she deserved someone who could love her in her entirety and strictly committed to her. He couldn’t give her that.

And he was about to lose her. 6 months without her weren’t going to be ideal, especially since this last week had been hell. He had done as told, he didn’t look out for her. Maybe that had been a mistake, he should’ve looked out for her. Their friendship was the best Tom could ask for, and he needed to talk to her, text her at least every day. So he had to look out for her, show her that he loved her more than he loved his rules.

When he got out, Haz was there. “Dude, you gotta leave now, I called her, she’s leaving to the airport now.”

“Shit,” Tom yelled as he looked down at himself, he looked horrible. He had brought the worst pair of sweats and an ugly t-shirt to the gym. At least they were clean. “Man, I can’t buy her anything, ah shoot, I’ll just-”

Tom picked up his keys, gave his backpack to Harrison, and ran out of the gym. He hopped to his motorbike and off he rode to the airport. Time was going too slow and it seemed like every single car in London had decided to crash or make him stop. The traffic was bollocks and he was sure he had at least broken 3 laws while driving. He didn’t care, he’d pay for the tickets later.

His heartbeat was almost as fast as he was going on the bike. It was until 10 minutes later, he realized he didn’t know from which of the airports she was flying off. He stopped and called Harrison.

“Please tell me she’s leaving from Heathrow, please, I don’t want to pull a Ross and Rachel, she got off the plane, thing but please, it’s the closest one-”

“Uh, let me ...Yeah, Heathrow!”

So Tom continued, it would’ve been horrible if it hadn’t been that airport. Quite embarrassing really. He was letting the adrenaline of the situation move him. He knew it was now or never.

Now or never what? While he was stopped at a traffic light he realized he didn’t know why exactly he was going. To say goodbye? To apologize? To say he felt something more?

He didn’t, he didn’t feel something more. That wasn’t the point, he needed to see her. To wish her goodbye, to tell her she wasn’t just another one. What a jerk he had been, he hadn’t even called her.

He passed a flower shop, and debated whether to buy her one or not. He didn’t. So he arrived at the crowded airport, he parked in front of the front doors and ran inside. Seemed like everyone was acting against him, blinding his path along the way. But then, just like magic, he saw her, beautiful as always. She was hugging her grandma and her mother was letting out a few tears.

Tom ran his way over, trying not to be rude while he pushed away everyone that was standing in between them. y/n was standing backwards. Her mum saw Tom, and he saw how her smile warmed.

Y/N saw her mother smiling, and turned around with confusion. Tom saw how she broke down when she saw him. Her eyes filled with tears, as she jumped over to him, Tom picking her up in the air, and holding her tight.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” was his initial statement. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” He whispered in her ear.

“I’m going to miss you, too.”

“I’ll give you guys some space,” her mum said, as she stepped off. Her grandma stayed there watching them with a smile. Y/N coughed and her grandma realized how inappropriate she was being and stepped back with her mother.

Tom looked down at her, as the tears were streaming down.

“Woah, hey, don’t cry, you don’t like people seeing you cry” Tom smiled as he wiped her tears off. “Look, I’m sorry, I was a jerk, and…”

“Tommy, don’t-”

“Shh...let me speak, I love you more anything, okay? You’re not just one more, you’re the best friend I have, and please don’t tell that to Harrison.”

y/n giggled as she hugged him again. “Let’s just forget that night, okay? Please, it didn’t happen.”

Tom knew he couldn’t forget it, but he nodded anyway, placing a kiss on top of her head.

“I can’t believe I won’t see you in 6 months, gosh, you’re growing up!” Tom joked, as she punched him lightly.

“I’m really scared...I won’t go, I don’t want to,” she said, with panic, Tom took her by the shoulders.

“You’re gonna do it okay? And they’re gonna love you, you’re going to report everything,” Tom chuckled as he made her smile. “I don’t know how that works, okay? But I want you to go and make me proud.”

“Tommy,” she smiled.

“And you will text me, every day, okay? Promise me,” Tom said.

She smiled. “I promise.”

“You won’t forget me, right?” Tom asked her, wiping away more tears.

“I won’t, how could I?” She chuckled. “I can’t forget that bent nose.”

He grinned and then wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t want to let you go, but it’s your dream, so I know I have to. I’m such an idiot for not seeing you these two weeks”

And they stared deep into each other eyes, making sparks fly. Tom let her go before trouble could come.

“Tommy,” she took a deep breath and hugged him again. “You know I love you, right?”

“Love you, too,” and he hugged her knowing this would be the last time he’d be hugging her for 6 months.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but y/n…” Her mum approached her. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” y/n let Tom go, clearing her throat. Tom blushed as he played with his hands. The goodbye went so quick, and before Tom knew it he was watching her walk away.

No, Tom hadn’t realized it yet, and by the time he would realize it, it would be too late. He still had that stupid song in his head.

The meaning of my life is

She, she

Oh, she

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