#The previous 'Mother' and is stern and distant because she

[princescar]

me, writing concepts for my danganronpa x genshin au: lalala :)

A real great concept: *strikes me*

Me: holy fuck

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 22 (HS)

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

— all chapters of enticing —

word count: 1.9K

Author’s note: Hello everyone! I just want to let you all know that I have the workflow already planned out for the rest of the chapters. I’ve decided to do TWO SEASONS of Enticing and I already have the end of this first season planned. I’ve decided to do two seasons because it would give me the chance to post a new series that I’ve been working on, and it would also give me time to get ahead with the second season and get ahead. Anyway, happy reading!

It was a gorgeous day in Lake Como. The night before after arriving, they had gone straight to bed. All five had been exhausted after the trip. Besides the exhaustion, Y/N's mind had been a mess. She had felt how distant Harry had been. He had barely spoken to her and whenever she reached out to hold his hand or kiss him, he would pull away. So, when the morning came, she didn’t lay and wait until Harry woke up, but instead went straight to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

She put on a hot red bikini and threw on a beige linen set. Y/N looked over her shoulder to make sure that Harry was still sleeping before sneaking out of the room with her sandals in her hand, so his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Good morning!” Chiara was in the kitchen, preparing some coffee and making some fresh juice. “How’d you sleep?”.

“Good! Would you like some help?” She offered, even though she could see that she had it handled. Chiara like all the high society women that Y/N had met, had a chef and a team of helpers. It hadn’t been easy for Chiara. She was a traditional Italian woman who liked to have control of her kitchen, but the house was too big, and she was terribly busy with the store's management.

“No. It’s all right. Alessandro and William are already outside having breakfast. You should join them! I’ll be there in a second”.

“Holy shit! This was a journey” Y/N called out as she approached the table under the trees. “I wasn’t hungry, but I am now.” The table had been set up under a gazebo. It was adorned with fresh flowers and placemats that matched the color of the flowers.

“Good morning!” Alessandro put down his phone and leaned up to kiss her cheeks. “You look gorgeous.”

“This place is a dream” Y/N hugged William and then sat down beside Alessandro. “What time did you get up?” She asked as she started serving herself some food.

“At five” William sipped on his coffee, “We went out for a jog. I haven’t been able to button my pants since Rome” Alessandro and Y/N laughed. “I am not joking, but do a regret it? Absolutely not”.

“Where are Harry and Michael?”

“Harry is sleeping”

“I haven’t seen Michael.” Alessandro pointed out, “Perhaps he went out?”

“I’ll text him” William quickly texted him, “What are we doing today anyway?”

“I was thinking of just having a chill day by the lake. Does that sound good?”

“That sounds perfect” Y/N just wanted to lay out, read a book and get a tan. She was tired and wasn’t up for dressing up or going out to meet anyone. She was nervous. She thought about confronting Harry and asking why he had been in a mood. However, she was sick of confronting him and tired of trying for him to share his thoughts. Plus, every time she confronted him things got out of hand, and they ended up saying hurtful things to one another.

After breakfast, they all went down by the lake and settled by the dock. Alessandro made sure that food and refreshments were set out for everything they might need. He even made sure to set out sun tanning beds.

“I am seriously now concerned for Michael” Y/N put down her book and pulled her sunglasses down.

“Why?” Harry asked, coming down the dock only wearing his bathing suit. He was drinking a glass of orange juice and holding a pastry.

“Good morning!” Alessandro called out as he turned to look at him.

“I think you mean good afternoon.” William rolled his eyes as he sipped on his beer. “You sick? It’s weird for you to get up this late”.

“Fine. Where is Michael?” He said sharply, as he walked down to Y/N’s tanning bed and sat by her legs.

“That’s what we are trying to figure out” Y/N muttered and pulled her legs away from Harry just as he felt him trying to caress them. Harry turned to look at her momentarily.

William attempted to call Michael, but it went straight to voicemail.

“He is not answering.” Just before William suggested calling the police, he received a text.

I am fine. See you at dinnertime.

“He is alive” William rolled his eyes and threw his phone at Harry, who caught it swiftly.

“What is he hiding?” Y/N asked as she sat up and took her sunglasses off to be able to read the text.

“I don’t know. It better be good” Harry mumbled, “What time did you get up?” He asked Y/N as he ran a hand down her back.

“Early” she shrugged and pulled away from him. She knew she didn’t have to act like it, and it wasn’t going to solve anything. However, Y/N wanted to make him feel like he had made her feel lately. She wanted him to feel the distance that was growing between them.

“What’s wrong?” Harry whispered to her, but she shook her head and opened her book. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He insisted, but her mouth remained shut with her eyes glued to her book. Harry sighed heavily and sat by the edge of the dock with his feet in the lake.

The day passed by them. Alessandro blasted music even though Michael and Y/N were reading. The sun was high in the sky and the wind wasn’t too cold or too hot.

“Beer?” He offered Y/N.

“No thanks”

“Why?”

“Because she gets drunk very easily with beer” Harry responded for her, which only made Alessandro laugh. “I am not kidding”.

“One is not going to hurt her.”

“She is a lightweight”

“Okay, can you stop speaking on my behalf?” Y/N interrupted him, “I’ll have one. One is not going to hurt” She shrugged and reached out.

“Last time by your third beer, I had to basically carry you out of the boat” Harry laughed remembering that night. He had chartered a boat to watch the sunset and had made sure that there was enough alcohol on the boat for them.

“Let her have one” William rolled his eyes, “Shit, you are her boyfriend, not her father”. As soon as the words left his mouth the tension got tense. Harry’s jaw tensed, but he swallowed back his comments and tried his best not to say anything to him.

“Here. Have fun princess” Alessandro popped one open for her and kissed her head before going back to his seat. And so, Y/N drank her beer followed by another one. Alessandro was just about to hand her another one before Y/N stopped him.

“I need to pee” she squeaked, “I’ll be right back” William chuckled as he watched her run down the dock towards the house.

“Y/N” Harry called out as he followed her.

“What?”

“What’s going on with you?” He grabbed her arm and stopped her. “You were fine yesterday, and today you are treating me like a strange— “

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Y/N interrupted him, “That’s exactly how you make me feel” She pulled her arm out of his grip. “Sick and tired of your on-and-off switch, Harry. It drives me crazy”.

“I’ve done nothin’ wrong!”

“Yes! Yes, you have! Take accountability for your actions” she yelled, poking her chest harshly. “If we keep going like this. This is not going to work” Y/N turned around and walked into the house in search of a bathroom.

“I am sorry,” He said to her as she walked out of the house.

“Sorry is not going to do it anymore, Harry. You can’t keep pushing me away whenever you feel like it. I deserve some stability.” Harry exhaled loudly and reached out for her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and try to meet eyes with her, but she kept looking at everything except at him.

“I know. I was a prick and I pushed you away instead of talking to you. I promise to open more” He pushed some hair out of her face and cupped her face in between his big hands.

“This is it, Harry. I am not going to continue entertaining this if you keep acting like this” She whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Alright. I understand. Can I hug you and get a kiss?” He had been acting distant and stand-offish, but it had all been because the texts he had read had left his head spinning. Harry had felt like he had been on the verge of losing her to another. He had been so caught up in figuring out his part relationships that he hadn’t noticed another man in the picture. Harry wasn’t self-conscious, he was extremely comfortable in his own skin, but for the first time, his world had been rocked.

Y/N nodded softly and kissed him as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I am taking the job” Y/N confessed while Harry gripped her chin.

“Really?” He pulled away with a soft smile. He was surprised. He didn’t think she would ever agree to change her job as a nanny for a corporate job. Harry could see her potential, and he knew that she would thrive especially with the guidance of one of his close friends.

She nodded enthusiastically but was nervous at the same time. When she had gone to college, she had dreamed of a job like the one that Harry was offering her. Harry kissed her lips, hard enough to steal her breath away.

“I am nervous” She whispered against his lips. Harry smiled widely and kissed her forehead.

“You are going to do great. I am sure of it” Y/N smiled feeling all fuzzy inside and excited.

The atmosphere improved significantly when they got back. They finished enjoying their day in the sun and stayed outside to admire the gorgeous sunset. As soon as the sky turned dark, Alessandro encouraged them to get up and head back to the house to get ready. He was starving and wanted to continue enjoying drinking and without food he couldn’t continue.

“This is delicious,” Y/N said as wiped the corners of her mouth. Chiara and Ricardo had joined them which had only made dinner much more entertaining. They had told them embarrassing stories about Alessandro and had also shared how they had met and fallen in love.

“It’s also not hard to prepare. I must give you the recipe” Lamb chops had been served over a bed of pesto pasta. The wine had been as consistent as the amount of bread that they had devoured.

“Where the hell have you been?” William called out to Michael who stood at the archway of the door.

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[skyrim-forever]

Day 3: Ghost

A/N: 3???? Slay. This one is Theodora working through her current issues as well as issues from her past. Alcoholism, mentions of sex, thoughts of death. Tagging @tes-summer-fest

Though Proudspire Manor was one of the largest properties in Solitude, Theodora had never felt more trapped. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Divines had played a cruel joke on her by giving her the property. The manor had belonged to her grandparents, having been in her grandmother’s family for generations, the same grandparents who had disowned her mother for breaking her engagement and running off with her father. She never met these grandparents, in part because of their disownment and also because her mother died when she was very young. There had been portraits throughout the estate, the only time she had seen her mother’s face. They shared a hooked nose and oval face, but nothing else. Everyone had always remarked she looked just like her father, but it was Aunt Rhiannon who said she acted like her mother. 

“Oh she was stubborn!” she’d say, Apparently they laughed the same, a snort laugh that Theodora had always been embarrassed by. Through the paintings she got to see her family. Her grandfather looked stern, he had been a legionnaire not unlike herself. Her grandmother looked serious, and apparently she was so. Her and her daughter had been growing distant, the tie being severed when Kassandra ran away.  

And yet, they put Theodora on the inheritance. She had received a letter when she turned 18 informing her of the estate, although she wouldn’t make it to Skyrim herself to see it until several years later. She never even got to enjoy such a beautiful home, and it was beautiful, because her grandparents had kept all her mothers things. The first day she walked in, checking out the rooms. Initially she was grateful because furnishing was not needed, but then she walked into her mother’s bedroom. Everything had been the same as she left it, Theo supposed. A closet full of dresses, hair accessories, journals. It was as though she was going to come back someday. 

Theo couldn’t live there, there was already a dead woman inhabiting the place. A ghost of the mother she never had. She took down the portraits, piled them in the room, and only used the house when she needed to. Thankfully the Winking Skeever had rooms so she could sleep there. She tried to stay a full night, sleeping on a lounge downstairs but she felt like an intruder; as though she had walked into a life that wasn’t hers. And in a way she had. She’d never met these grandparents, they’d never reached out; likely due to their disdain for her father. 

The Skeever was full that night. Compromising with a nice vintage, a gift from Ondolemar from back when he visited her in Windhelm, she stood on the balcony and drank. With each sip, she fought the urge to give in to her own self destruction. Her drinking was bad, so bad in fact she did not remember much of the year 199; apparently she was living in Bruma, of all places. It helped that the wine was smooth, she could pretend she was drinking to enjoy; instead of the usual chugging sujamma to forget. 

The bottle was halfway empty when she started to feel guilty for not savoring it more. The day had been a long and difficult one. Elenwen offered her an exchange, one she couldn’t refuse. Being a hero had been hard for her. Putting others' needs always above her was incredibly difficult. In her previous life she had been selfish, a trait that had pushed many a lover away. 

When captured by the Legion, a small part of her hoped it’d be over. She would have burned bright and fast, her flame fizzling out before she even hit 25. Head on the executors block, she was relieved to go. Her life would have been short and meaningless, she’d disappear from history, and maybe in death she’d finally see her parents again. Yet in either kindness or cruelty, death didn’t come that day. Instead Akatosh had given her a purpose, she was to be the one who defeated the World Eater; something she did not understand at the time, but would be revealed through her time in Skyrim. 

Time which was going to be coming to an end, at least for the time being. After the negotiations at the Blue Palace she had been attacked but to raging lunatics. Cultists apparently, accusing her of being a False Dragonborn. The letter she found on one of their bodies pointed to someone named Miraak on the island of Solstheim. It would do her good, the trip to Morrowind, as long as there were things to do now she wouldn’t need to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. The negotiations went well, Elenwen had kept her word, the Empire was able to get lessened restrictions and the Thalmor could not just arrest anyone without due cause. It was better than she had expected. But now it would be time for her to hold up her end of the bargain. 

Theodora wondered where along the way she fell in love with Ondolemar. It had started out as just fun, a nice distraction to take her mind off the worries of the world. It had begun in this very house, their first rendezvous. Somewhere along the way meeting up for just sex became sex and then talking, moments lingering in each other’s presence. The danger that enticed her initially, turned into something more. He had opened up to her first, sharing his struggles with his family, his nation.  In allowing himself to be broken, she thought maybe it was okay if she was too. He knew more about her than anyone, the death of her father, the years where she lost herself in whatever vice was available. Wine was a favourite, but men were good too, if you have enough clouding your senses you can’t think about anything. 

It’s best if it ends this way she thought. Running away together would have never been remotely feasible, not with their allegiances. She chuckled to herself because I’m loyal to the Empire. And even if it had, who’s to say something wouldn’t have gone wrong. Her own mother had run away with the love of her life and she is dead. Her parents had gotten less than 3 years together. She had gotten nearly the same with Ondolemar. Best to cut her losses before she became a ghost as well.    

[daydreamer-707]

Unforgettable (Adult!Bakugo x fem!reader Fanfiction)

Finally the time has come! The prologue to my first fanfic ‘Unforgettable’ is out (I thought of a better name for the story)! I have read through it several times in hope of finding and correcting any errors. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I do.

This fanfic is set in the future where all the characters are older. Reader will be female in the story, but I've tried to keep it as neutral as possible.

The story will be found under the hashtag #unforgettablebakugoxfem!reader. In the distant future, if things go well, I would make a list for it.

If you find anything I should add to the warning, please let me know. Somehow I found no more except cursing…

Have fun!

______________________

Words: 3666

Estimated reading time: 28.2 min

Warning: cursing because of Bakugo, English is not my mother language

Prologue

It was late evening when the last Agency Dynamight staff left the building. Ignoring the light in the entryway, you could still see a few lights burning in the central area. One of them was the office of Bakugo Katsuki, Japan's number two hero. His weary gaze lingered on the three stacks of paper that had formed in front of him. Grimacing in annoyance, he tried not to yell out loud.

The stack on the right was his. Missions he has completed and content designed just for him. The middle one was slightly larger than the previous one. Those were the important papers that he went through and has to forward on Friday. What got him incensed, however, was the leftmost stack, which is twice the size of the two combined. These would also have to be completed. Today was Wednesday. He has a day and a half to do this, since it has to be passed on at noon.

He couldn't suppress the next sigh when he thought of the person in charge. Marie Anderson, a woman who moved to Japan with her family from America 10 years ago. She was the third best student with the best grades and was highly praised for her work. After half a year he couldn't see it at all. Not a damn piece of it.

In the many years he's worked as a prohero, he had to fire his assistant several times. Sloppily worked, company secrets were passed on, bullying among colleagues and the many advances towards him. There were more reasons that he didn't really want to think about. Just the smallest memory of the previous one sent a shiver down his spine and his nerves working at full speed.

"Bakugo-san?"

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts and he gave a small grunt in response. Not a second later the door opened and he couldn't help but sigh in relief. It was his secretary, Lilith, who tied her blond hair, adorned with gray streaks, into a tight bun. An elderly lady who volunteered to work under Dynamight and had never betrayed his trust.

"Shouldn't you be home by now, like the others? Like three damn hours ago?”

"I could say the same thing, Bakugo-san. I have made it my task to get rid of the problem once and for all.”

The afore mentioned raised his eyebrows skeptically when Lilith adjusted her glasses and gave him a stern look.

"I saw how you wanted to reprimand your assistant several times and was always interrupted by the other employees. As your secretary, I know what the atmosphere is like in the agency. A half is for and against Marie. Of course I'm against Marie."

Speechless and confused, he watched as her glasses flashed briefly. This happened every time her plan goes smoothly.

"I don't know if I should consider myself lucky or just blow myself up."

"Both."

"Fuck off."

"Later."

"Disgusting."

Not a second later there was another knock at the door and Katsuki's slight smile disappeared pretty quickly, since he could guess who was at the door. With a grimace, he tried to tell Lilith not to leave him alone. But her mischievous smile told him everything.

"I fucking hate you."

"I wish you a good night as well, Bakugo-san."

"Katsuki!"

With this sentence the door was thrown open. There she stood and Bakugo couldn't help but look her up and down. Not in a perverse way. Rather, he was comparing her to someone else. Marie isn't exactly bad looking and is even said to be the prettiest foreigner to have lived in Japan. But ever since he ate with the Todorokis a long time ago, he couldn't get this girl out of his head. He could never really refrain from comparing every potential partner to her. There was no one as fucking perfect as you.

"Oh! Lilith, I didn't know you were still here! I thought that you went home after this message to me.", Marie clapped her hands together in a high voice and clasped them together.

Her attitude and her sentence was as innocent as one could expect from her demeanour. However, if you knew her long enough and took a closer look at her voice, you could hear how contemptuous she spoke to Lilith. Since she was used to it, Lilith only smiled at her falsely and skilfully ignored her as she bowed slightly towards Bakugo again.

"See you in the morning."

"Go on and say hello to your brat for me."

"Of course."

With a loud bye bye, Marie closed the door behind Lilith and turned to Bakugo with a big grin, who gave her a serious look. He could see the corner of her mouth twitch and her smile getting more nervous. That's exactly what he wanted. That kinda reminded him of her first time. She was nervous at the beginning and innocent, untouchable. Everyone in the company loved that about her as she was different from everyone else. Marie apparently had experience to take advantage of that. Through her hard schoolwork and education, she should be able to do such work with ease. But she managed to fool everyone. Everyone asked to give her more time to master it. A few weeks turned into months and most of their work is done by the others. Now that no one was there to protect her, he could finally attack. You must be thinking, half a year and the great Dynamight hasn't managed to call her to account? It was more or less because everyone knew when to attack. As soon as he started, his colleagues or their fans came flying like dung flies. Most of the time he was also on missions or on patrol to check on the right ones. Then there was Lilith. An elderly lady collected evidence without hesitation and laid it out for him. Evidence that will help him open his dung flies' eyes before their venom can kill them.

Bakugo can't really see what's so great about her. You must be behind it, because everything you are or do is great. Your hair gently caressing your face. How you brush them off your face or tie them in a bun or braid if they bother you. Your concentration to master your tasks without problems is just sexy. It looked so easy when you do it and everyone looks at you with admiration. Your simple attire that suits the job and makes you look so professional. His eyes could watch you for hours and he would never get tired of it. He admits he can't stand meeting up with most of his co-workers, but when it's with Shoto and he can see you doing it, it doesn't really matter. Your size was perfect. You are just fucking perfect in every way and no one has been able to prove him otherwise until now.

"Well, about what Lilith said to me-"

"Sit down."

Wincing, Marie quickly sat down and looked at him in surprise, maybe even horrified. Whether it was because of his stern voice or that he had simply interrupted her, didn't interest him much. Plus she had just interrupted him from thinking about you and he couldn't stand that.

"Do you know the real reason you're still here late at night?"

"T-the real reason? I don't understand. I thought-"

"Thinking doesn't suit you and forget what Lilith told you because that was a lie."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Outraged, Marie looked at her boss and couldn't close her mouth. Shocked by Bakugo's choice of words and how she could fall for Lilith. She knew how closely she worked with Bakugo and actually tried to avoid being alone with him. However, it was just too tempting. Her boss is incredibly handsome and unavailable, everyone here knew that. How could she have thought he was smitten with her like the other men who were here? All she had in mind was to do something hot alone with him in the office. What could have ended so forbidden good and sexy.

"I didn't know you had something with your damn ears, too.", sighing annoyed, Bakugo stroked his hair briefly.

Ever since he finished school and was able to start his own agency, he tried to come across as professional as possible. Also avoiding swearing, mostly trying it. But he has to pull himself together in such a way that he sometimes had the feeling of bursting. But he won't hold back as much as before.

"See those three damn piles of paper in front of me?"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"Well, at least you're not blind. This bunch is mine, I already did this bunch because it's my fucking job. But this one is driving me crazy. Do you know why?"

"N-no."

"Now listen to me damn well. To this day I don't know why you work here. I get all the tasks that you should do from someone else. Marie can't do this shit yet, Marie has never had anything to do with it. I hear that every damn time from your colleagues. They don't or shouldn't have anything to do with it, because it's your fucking job to do it. Namely, as my assistant, who was recommended to me because you're supposed to be the best for the job. I don't see shit about it though. Because that shit is yours. Papers piled up because I took it away from the staff. Do you know what this means?"

"That… belongs to me? I don't… know."

He grinned dangerously at her with his eyes closed. A gesture that made Marie very nervous and made her sweat. It looked inhuman as he slowly sat up and pushed the fat stack of important documents towards her. She had to swallow hard when he opened his eyes again and a shadow fell across his face. It brought out his blood red eyes and made him look even more bestial.

“These stacks must be ready in my office by Friday noon. If they don't, you're fired."

"That's in two days! I don't even have 48 hours to do this! I will never be able to do that!”

"No shit Sherlock. You are entirely to blame for that. Just you and no one else.”

With one hand in his pocket, he stood up and grabbed the table with the other to lean towards her better. At that moment she would love to say how sexy that looks, but at that moment she only felt great hate and fear towards this hero who was watching her with a derisive smile. You could literally read it in his eyes how much he despises her.

"Show me how much you are worth. The old lady who said you were as good as y/n. Come on, show me or can't you?"

In that moment, Marie knew... she was screwed. Not only would her career be over, but her life as well. But she already knows that she has to change it. She won't be there alone. She'll take the whole agency with her and become the #1 assistant working at Todoroki. Oh how she despise that person that took her place. Y/n L/n, you've been at the top for far too long. It's time she took that seat now.

_____________________________________________________

"Do you have the papers with you for our meeting?"

"Everything prepared and sorted."

"Coffee?"

"Prepared and ready to serve."

"Is my tie right?"

With a mock sigh, the older of the two stopped, whereupon the younger but taller of the two also stopped. The aisle they were in was slightly crowded, so the two-color haired man pushed his partner aside so they wouldn't get in the way.

"Come show me. Let me fix this and now this should be alright. It's cute how you're still nervous before every meeting, Shoto."

Slightly smiling, Shoto looks at the girl, or rather woman, who has stood by his side for years. He was used to your little teasing. To be honest, he had to get used to it because he didn't know it. You were the only one where he was really allowed to make contact and where he could be himself during this time. With you, he wasn't the son of the number two hero, but just a child.

"I'm not nervous. Maybe a little excited.” He tried to sound confident and got a grunt in response.

"Your expression is even more tense than usual. You can't foul me."

"I'm serious, though."

You walked on laughing and therefore didn't see how Shoto looked after you, smiling but also sad. Just like him, you were born to be the perfect assistant to a Proheros. He still felt guilty about what had happened a long time ago. Even if you claim otherwise. Now he couldn't dwell on the past, he had to hold a meeting and do his best! Unlike his father, he didn't care where he was and it just happened that he was currently in 3rd place.

"Y/n!"

Shoto quickly pulled you aside and caught you as you stumbled over your own feet, sneezing. Surprised, you looked up at your boss, who is looking at you with the same wide eyes as you are at him. Still a bit startled, you pushed yourself away from him and took a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" he promptly asked worriedly, making you frown.

"Yes… I'm fine, but I've got a weird feeling. As if anything bad is going to happen.”

"You sure you won't just get sick?"

When Shoto saw your angry face he just put his hands up and shrugged.

"I'm just worried about you."

"You should worry more about the meeting."

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Before you open the door to the meeting room for Shoto, you couldn't help but turn around carefully and look at all the people in the hallway. Something inside you wants to warn you, but you couldn't figure out what or who. This little feeling unsettles you. Unfortunately, you couldn't think about it further because you have more important things to do.

"Don't overexert yourself Y/n, okay?"

"I can’t promise that."

Dissatisfied with your answer, Shoto wanted to tell you something, but you were faster than him and open the door for him. He gave you an annoyed grunt before entering the room with his neutral expression. Immediately the employees, as well as visitors, stopped talking to each other. Everyone watches his lips as he greets everyone and stops in front of the board.

"Y/n, if you please."

Standing next to him you nodded to him and not a second later the papers began to float into his place. They were linked together so the pages could stay in order. Everyone watched in amazement as everyone received a pile of paper without anyone touching them.

"Before we get into the dry subject, Y/n and I had a great idea to get coffee and some treats ready for everyone."

Cups as well as three pots full of coffee flew over everyone's heads and surprised exclamations fell over their mouths. It was always the same reaction. In the beginning you were excited and happy to see how people react to your quirk. But now it just bounced off you. The pots poured coffee for each person as if by themselves. Sugar cubes, like milk. You knew everyone here, as well as their tastes and preferences. You used to be drummed into remembering everything. Because knowledge was power and that's what you need as an assistant for a superhero. If you don't help outside, then where you can best grab them under the arms. To be the best as their right hand.

"Let's get started…"

After a while your phone started vibrating. Curious, you took it out discreetly and your bright eyes began to look soft. It was a message from your best friend that you were able to win thanks to this job. Ashido Mina who was currently engaged to Kirishima Eijiro. Also one of your closest friends. Because of your work you don't have much time to see them, but they were all nice enough to write to you or to invite you despite everything. Whether you can or not. You were very grateful for that, you don't know how you would be without her. They gave you light on your otherwise exhausted life.

'Do you want to have lunch with me? I'm dying of hunger! I don't take a no from you!' - Pinky Mina

'Okay, but you decide where' - SweetyPie aka Y/n

'I was just waiting for this! I'll send you the address and don’t be late! I’m very very hungry right now.' - Pinky Mina

Slightly smiling, you quickly put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Shoto. Frowning, you noticed that weird feeling resurfaced. It grew stronger with every second you spent looking at your boss. Something will happen and you won't like it one bit.

…

..

.

Before you entered the meeting room with Shoto, neither of you realized that you were being followed. Not far from you stood Momo Yaoyorozu, who was newly married to Todoroki Shoto. Now that she was his wife, she wanted to give him a little pleasure. Living with him, Momo knows how excited he was before every meeting and wanted to do his best. Shoto wanted to show that he was very different from his old man. However, until today she didn't really know how he got through it.

You two stood there close together. She was too far away from you to know what you're talking about. Feelings like insecurity and her self-esteem from before came up again. Feelings that she controlled and lost thanks to training and Shoto. A rare and disgusting taste appeared in her. Jealousy. It wasn't that Momo didn't know you. Her newly married husband had talked a lot about you and she knew that you meant a lot to him. But in that moment, she wished it wasn't so. She actually liked you since you supported Shoto for so long. But she felt she could take on the role. She was his wife now and what would she be if she couldn't help him?

Momo quickly shook her head, hoping to shake those bad thoughts out of her head, as well as the image of you in his arms. How dare she think of replacing you? Throw you out of Shoto's life? You have a right to it, like all his other friends. But she couldn't suppress the small voice whispering to her how great it would be if Shoto replaced you with someone else.

You take on so many tasks from everyone and from Shoto himself that nothing in his agency would work without you. Shouldn't Shoto experience it for himself and stand on his own two feet and know what it would be like without you?

The ringing and vibrating of her mobile brought her out of her dark thoughts, which she warmly welcomed. What would have happened if she stayed there longer? Maybe she had gotten an idea and gone through with it?

"Yaoyorozu Momo, how can I help you?"

"Momo-chan..!"

"Marie? Oh my god Marie! Please calm down! I can't understand you very well."

With her heart beating fast, Momo tried to find a quiet place for her phone call and best friend she had the chance to meet. The Anderson family had brought great influence from America to Japan and were good friends with her parents.

"I… I can't do this anymore! You have to help me! Bakugo-san is so mean to me... How am I supposed to do this?"

"What do you mean? I only hear good things about Katsuki-"

"Of course you're on his side because you've been through a lot together. I also only have this job because of you, but Momo! He gave me over 100+ pages for Friday lunchtime! I only have one day left!”

"Marie-"

"And I hate it here! Y/n here, y/n there! I am constantly compared to her. She's so much better than everyone else because her family is F/n. I hate her... so much. I was hoping that you would feel the same way and understand me."

Looking ahead, Momo grinds her teeth thoughtfully. The thoughts came back in full force. It would be best if she met Marie in person and heard everything from the beginning. Get a better picture of their situation. What she couldn't know, however, was that Marie wasn't crying, she was grinning on her cell phone.

"Let's meet for lunch this afternoon. Shoto… wanted to meet up with Deku anyway. What do you say?"

"Yes… That would be perfect. You are the best Momo-chan!”

With a loud sigh, Marie stretched and carelessly threw her cell phone on the chair behind her. Her gaze was coldly focused on the half-finished stack before her eyes focused on the crowds outside her office. She was grateful to have her own office with a view of the other colleagues. So she could easily watch everyone and plan her next move.

"Soon you will be rid of a great colleague and consecrated since the fall. I'll bring Shoto to the top..."

[crystal-siren]

The Lady & The Sailor (2/?)

Masterlist

Previous Part

Chapter 2: A Family Affair

Not for the first time did Harold thank his station in life. He was not blind to the opportunities that had come his way simply because of who his family was; it was no different now, he had entered service at the urging of his father and out of love for his country and he had entered as a Lieutenant. It was not unheard of for those of the upper classes to enter service with a high rank. 

His father had been proud beyond words when news of his first posting had arrived and while his mother was not too keen on sending her son to war, she had smiled nonetheless. The farewell had been bittersweet. 

Shaking off the memory, Harold continued on his rounds. Over the weeks since leaving England, he had become quite familiar with the layout of the Exeter, his rounds aiding in that regard and while he had met all of the sailors on board, he had yet to meet many of the other personnel that made up the crew. 

Making his way to the top deck, he took a lungful of salty sea air and let himself smile a little before straightening his posture and folding his hands behind his back. He had been briefed on their mission and had long since been wondering which day would be the one. Looking around him now, he noted all those on deck with him, all partaking in various activities. Harold soon found himself heading towards the stern of the ship; he found watching the wake the ship created to be calming and more often than not, he would be there alone. The solitude did him good and he relished those moments. He had learnt the hard way that being in a position of command did not afford one with ample amounts of rest. A peal of laughter drew him from his own musings and directed his head to a couple standing not too far from where he had stopped. A sailor was speaking with a nurse, who was laughing at a tale he was recounting. Harold narrowed his eyes at the two, while relations between nurses and sailors was forbidden, friendships were not. If that’s indeed what these two were. He made to turn away when the nurse uttered a reply and her voice struck him as rather familiar. Turning back, he took a proper look. His narrowed eyes widened upon recognition of her. What was his cousin doing here? 

“Only you would join up for that reason,” Isabella said, chuckling and shaking her head. 

Tom arched a brow at her and leaned against the railing. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Izzy,” he replied. “I ain’t no knight in shining armour and all that.” 

“Oh I don’t know,” she murmured, her eyes going distant for a moment. “Isn’t that how we met?” 

“That’s different,” he replied, a smirk curving his lips. 

“Oh yeah?” Isabella challenged, her eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief. It relieved her beyond measure to fall back into this banter with Tom. They had only begun on the day they had met, just before her parents found her and pulled her away. “How, pray tell?” 

From his hiding spot, Harold listened to every word. That was Isabella alright, but what was she doing here? As far back as he could recall, Isabella had always detested confrontation and conflict of any kind and preferred to settle matters with words. The sailor she was with, he could not quite remember his name but he seemed to know her quite well or was he like this with the other nurses as well? 

“So,” Tom said, folding his arms, “now that you know my reason for joining up, what’s yours?” 

Isabella did not answer right away. She sighed and looked out over the water for a spell before turning back to him. “Promise you won’t laugh?” 

“Why would I laugh?” 

She bit her lip and looked down. “I wanted to help. To do my bit, as it were. It didn’t feel right not to.”

Tom watched her as she spoke, her hands twisting in the starched fabric of her apron, wrinkling the smooth fabric. Why did she think he would laugh? She had been a shy and quiet girl when he had first met her and yet here she was, years later, all but marching into battle herself. He had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to her tale. “Why would I laugh at that?” He asked, giving her a small smile when she looked up. 

She seemed genuinely surprised at his question. 

“It takes guts to go to war,” he continued. “I know something big must have happened for you to come to this decision. What that is, I do not know. But your reason is far from laughable and while I’m sure you’ve been told that a posh girl like you has no place here, I am most certainly am in no position to judge.”

“You know,” Isabella said after a pause, a sparkle in her eyes. “I’ve been told that I should stay away from you, that you’re quite the troublemaker.”

“Is that so?” 

She nodded, “but I know better,” she stage-whispered. “Troublemaker is an understatement-“ her words were cut off by a sharp laugh as she ducked away from Tom, a grin on her lips. 

“Troublemaker, ey?” A feral grin blossomed to match hers as he made a grab for her, only for her to dance out of his reach. 

From his hiding place, Harold watched in horror as his cousin forgot every social protocol, her laughter sounding closer to shrieks as she continually managed to evade the reach of the sailor. She was a lady! It was beneath her to behave in such a reckless manner. 

They had settled down just as the attention of a few individuals was being directed their way. They were behaving like scolded school children who could not keep themselves from laughing. 

“Nurse Harrington,” he said sharply, stepping forward and making himself known. 

Turning at the sound of her name, Isabelle felt her eyes widen at the man who had uttered it. Harold? Pasting a smile on, she nodded respectfully, “Lieutenant,” she greeted. “What can I do for you?” 

Harold’s eyes narrowed at her and she clenched her jaw. Could she not escape her family’s judgement even in the South Atlantic? 

“I trust you both have not forgotten the severity of our situation and of our mission?” 

Both Tom and Isabella shook their heads, “no sir,” they chorused. 

“If you will excuse us,” Harold said to Tom, “Nurse Harrington and I have an important matter to discuss.”

Inclining her head at Tom’s questioning glance, Isabella murmured a soft, “go on.” She didn’t miss the way Tom looked at her cousin. 

The moment they were alone and Harold was sure that none were watching or listening in, he rounded on her. His eyes, so like his mother’s, glared at her. “Have you forgotten who you are?” He hissed. 

Isabella’s nostrils flared at his tone and she swallowed hard before responding, “what prompts such a question?” 

“Do you ask in seriousness or out of mockery?” 

“I ask because I wish for an answer,” she responded, meeting his gaze and refusing to back down. “Did my parents send you?”

Harold smiled and turned to look out over the water, his hands resting on the railing. “Believe it or not, not everything you do is queried by our family.” 

Clearly not convinced, Isabella folded her arms and simply stared at him. 

“My father urged me to join,” Harold responded, relenting to her piercing stare. How she had managed not to blink in that short time was unnerving to him. “My parents have no idea that you are here.” 

She hummed lowly and fixed her hair. “Will that be all, Lieutenant?”

“You are a lady, Isabella,” Harold said as she turned to leave. “Even out here, please do not forget that.” 

“Out here,” she replied, looking over her shoulder, “it doesn’t matter. War does not care where one stands in the eyes of society, it does not care for one’s wealth or family name. Here I am not a lady, I am a nurse and it is my duty to aid and save lives.” 

“You detest the sight of blood,” he protested, “what could possibly have made you decide to become a nurse?” 

“Since you were undoubtedly eavesdropping on my conversation with Tom, then you would have heard my answer when he asked me a similar question.”

Tom. So that was the name of that particular sailor. “I do not believe that that was the whole story.”

“Whether you believe it or not is not my issue. I have told all that I am ready to say.”

“So you would speak more to a man you barely know rather than your own family?” 

At this she rounded on him, green eyes flashing. “He is not merely a man, he is a friend. A good friend and I would thank you to remember that while we are indeed family and you may be my superior on this ship, that does not give you licence to speak to me in such a manner.”

Harold blinked in surprise. Isabella, as far as he could remember, was known to be soft-spoken, her voice seldom rising. “You surprise me, cousin,” he replied. “I did not think you had it in you to speak in such a manner. It would seem that the common man has indeed influenced you.”

Isabella knew full well that Harold meant no compliment. “Your judgement of me echoes that of my parents, but more so my mother,” she said. “I will not hide behind titles and privilege and I will act as I see fit. If that upsets the delicate balance of your world, then so be it. Now,” she paused and took a deep breath, “I will ask again, will that be all Lieutenant?” 

Eyeing her in silence, he nodded and watched her as she made her way belowdecks. Turning back to the ocean, he felt the gentle brush of the flag against his arm. It was high time he honoured the promise he made to his mother and wrote to her. There seemed to be a great many things to tell her. 

[laulink]

Just finished watching Hirogaru Sky Precure and I think it's the most solid series of the franchise so far. It didn't feel like there were a lot of purely filler episodes, unlike in some previous series where you could pretty easily skip 5 eps and not miss anything in regards to character or plot development, the overarching story itself is better paced and less redundant than some older series, and there were a lot of cool things done regarding the characters :

- first adult Cure ! We've already had "older sister" types in the series, but they were all still in high school and therefore still had similar problems and arcs to the other, younger Cures, so it was nice to have someone who is a bit older in the group because Ageha truly brings a new perspective and different dynamics to it : she has her life figured out, no familial conflict regarding her future, she often plays the role of the gentle hand guiding the kids in figuring things out regarding their own dreams and relationships, and even when she wasn't a Cure yet, she helped by providing technical support, information, strategies, protecting Elle-chan... A real adult !

- first boy Cure ! Not only was it nice to see a boy join the group, it was even nicer that he wasn't treated any differently from the others, be it by the group or the supporting characters. No one, in the series or all stars movie, pointed out that he is the first male Cure, which I appreciate because yes, the lore of Precure never stated that only girls could be Cures, but when you see big companies patting themselves on the back for including gender or racial diversity in their productions and making a big deal of it in the production itself, not just in articles, by having characters point out how unusual and amazing this is, I am happy to see that Toei Animation goes all the way with the message it sends ("boys can be Cures too and there's nothing weird about that") instead of making remarks about how unusual it is and therefore undercutting the message. I also love that they made the biggest recurring Precure fan of the series a fanboy, who specifically loves Cure Wing the most (before his beloved teacher becomes Cure Butterfly right before his eyes). A little boy is a fan of and wants to be like the male Cure : representation matters !

- the pairs : of course there are some clearly defined and favoured pairs in the team, as is often the case in Precure, but, where most series with a larger group tend to keep these characters in those specific pairs, to the point of rarely showing meaningful interactions or dynamics outside of those pairs, Hirogaru lets multiple pairs coexist at the same time, with very specific dynamics : Sora makes a pair with Mashiro (the lovers), but also with Tsubasa (the himbos, because seriously, look at their scenes together) and has a recurring gag with Ageha (the hugs, which is even included in the movie) while Ageha, who is Tsubasa's partner, is also Mashiro's childhood friend. And Elle ! In Hugtto Precure, Hugtan had a relationship with everyone, and I believe there even were some special traits to most of those relationships, but Elle takes it to a whole other level : Sora and Mashiro are clearly her main caretakers (without that impacting or taking away from Elle's relationship with her parents btw) with Sora being a bit more strict and stern, like her father, while Mashiro is softer and more willing to let things slide, the archetypical image of a mother, but Ageha is clearly the one who understands Elle the best and most often knows how to cheer her up when something is wrong, and Tsubasa is her sworn knight, who Elle tries her best to reconnect with when she starts to feel like Tsubasa is getting more distant. The different pairs also have a specific dynamic as Precures : whereas Sora often feels like she depends a lot on Mashiro and is ready to accept her help and be her friend as soon as she meets her while Mashiro often struggles with feeling like she isn't good enough, Sky is initially opposed to the idea of Prism fighting because she's worried for her safety while Prism knows and will show Sky that she is a dependable partner who is her equal and can fight by her side. Similarly, while Tsubasa often follows Sora in her antics or has overall similar reactions to new or surprising things, Wing is less hot-headed than Sky and has more than once pushed her out of harm's way when she charged headfirst into it. Ageha wants to do everything by herself and Tsubasa has trouble making her rely on him, but Butterfly and Wing's partners power up is the mixing colour palette that lets Ageha support everyone by powering them up while she apparently can't power herself up with it. Mashiro has never tried to hold Elle back from doing new things, but Prism tries to protect Majesty in a fight to the point of putting herself in danger. Sora has always protected Elle, but as soon as Majesty showed up, she and Sky got in sync acting as the team's powerhouses, often giving ennemies a double punch. It's just beautiful to see so many different and nuanced dynamics !

- the future : while Ageha and Sora know what they want for their future, things are more tricky for Tsubasa and Mashiro and I appreciate that the writers didn't take the easy options there. Tsubasa can't fly with his wings and has already studied aerodynamics and planes for a year when we officially meet him, so it would have been easy to simply make him decide to be a pilot, but they didn't take the easy path and made him realise that, now that his first dream had been achieved, he had developed a taste for knowledge and would become a sage. Similarly, Mashiro is gentle, wants to make people happy and is good at cooking and baking, so making her decide to be a cook would have been easy, but they went the picture book author way instead to give her more depth. I particularly like this because it reflects the reality of people being good at or having an interest in multiple things and career choices being about more than just taking what one is good at and finding a job making use of that.

Of course, the series isn't perfect : some bits are rushed, others feel a little out of place, some dynamics are less explored than others, Dark Sky deserved a whole episode instead of the two minutes of screentime she got, but overall, I maintain this is the best structured, best constructed, most solid Cure series I've seen thus far and I hope the quality stays at this level or keeps improving going forward because it's nice to see a franchise this big being treated as more than a money bank and getting increasingly better instead of degrading over time.

[didasgomas]

He cut Veronica

Day 17 of October Practice

Prompt: Hidden murder

Content warnings: Implied murder, implied depressive symptoms, mild bruise, mariticide

Cdta belongs to @missr3n3

02:00 A.M - May 7th, 1960

Waymond woke up in cold sweat. Another nightmare where he was chased down and killed by some unearthly creature.

Sitting up and touching his own face to confirm he was still alive, he felt his wife shift in bed to look at him.

“Ray? What happened?” Veronica asked tiredly.

“Nothing, nothing. Just a weird dream.” He tried to avoid revealing the problem, but she quickly realised what it was.

“Love, we need to get you to a doctor. You've been having nightmares every night for weeks. This isn't normal.”

He locked eye contact with her for a while. Veronica was a stern woman, no matter how sweet she could manage to be when in a good mood. Waymond had always had some difficulty reading her, but tonight, he could see she really was worried.

He closed his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. He didn't want to admit it, either to himself or to her, because then his nightmares would make sense, but he was afraid of her. Afraid of the wife who prized family above all and on who he was financially dependent on.

“No need to, I'll be fine, I promise.” He tried to calm her down, though not to reassure her, because the only person who could reassure Veronica was herself.

-

November 12th, 1963

Gustaf Bellman could be a complicated man to talk to. Having been a soldier in the Great War, he constantly suspected everything and everyone, and many found him annoying. Waymond knew, for one of those people was his own mother.

But he also knew that no one he was aware of hated his father so much to want to kill him, or convince him to do so to himself.

The call had come the previous week, just minutes after they'd woken up, to tell him they had found his father hanged in his bedroom. He had cried then, and he cried now at the funeral, staring at the casket. His dad had been strict, insensible sometimes even, enough for his mom to divorce him, but he had never yelled at or beaten him.

Standing beside him, though, Veronica looked detached, no sorrow or pain in her expression. His father hadn’t been the kindest person to her, always accusing any perceived mistake as being intentional, or any hard times for the family somehow being her fault, but despite all that, he had thought Veronica would react in a more humane way.

It hurt him more than expected, seeing his wife seemingly unaffected.

A nasty, horrible thought emerged in Waymond’s mind, the possibility that she might have something to do with this, but he quickly pushed it aside.

He just needed to give himself time to calm down from today.

-

00:15 A.M - August 3rd, 1961

He hadn't been able to sleep. Sitting down at the empty kitchen table, hands on his face, trying to stop all the thoughts running through his head.

James, his wife's brother, had invited them to his baby daughter's first birthday. He and his own wife had just… looked so happy together, so in love with each other.

Waymond didn't think he had ever felt that way with Veronica.

His family gave him stability and warmth, but it couldn't fill the void he had been feeling.

Whether eating with his wife and child, or in moments alone like this one, he always found that a deep, inexplicable loneliness settled over him.

He loved his family, and he knew they loved him back, but sometimes, as he stood in the doorway and watched them, he felt like an outsider looking in, close enough to see the happiness, yet too distant to truly share in it.

Lucille would run up to him, her little arms outstretched, and he’d lift her, feel her joy, and just as quickly, that strange hollow ache would return.

-

June 25th, 1950

The applause echoed in the small room as Waymond and Veronica pulled back from their kiss, now officially husband and wife. Veronica had a bright smile, that almost felt contagious. Waymond smiled back, locking eyes as they stood before the small gathering of family and close friends.

But as they walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, a faint, unsettling feeling of loss clung to him. Freedom, that was the word that lingered in the back of his mind, an idea that felt almost blasphemous on a day like this. Yet there it was, quietly swallowing his thoughts, reminding him of something he’d had that now felt out of reach.

He glanced over at her, how radiant she was, and he tightened his grip on her hand, as though that might silence the doubt inside him. He loved her, and he knew he’d made this choice with full intent. But the truth was undeniable: with this union, he felt that he’d left something essential behind, something he feared he might never get back.

A union that elevated him in the eyes of everyone else, but that at the same time made him feel like he was sinking.

-

06:00 P.M - September 30th, 1965

Veronica had gotten sick, and despite having employees, had insisted that the bakery close for the day. She was hiding something, and years of suspicion finally boiled over.

Waymond had to find out.

What he hadn't expected to find, after picking the lock to the bakery's basement, was the gruesome scene before him. The sun was setting already, but that did not explain how or why something in the shadows was talking.

"Veronica is coming"

He could hide and wait for her to leave. He didn't know just what she was capable of.

"This is going to be fun!"

"Veronica is here"

He hid behind the door, ready to hold his breath. He could hear her walking- no- stomping towards the kitchen's door to the basement.

"Here comes Veronica"

The door opened in a brute way, but fortunately it didn't hit him. He held his breath, preparing to run towards the exit as fast as possible, and if he was lucky, reach the police station.

The lights were turned on, and she started searching around for the intruder.

He was about to bolt out of that hellhole, when, in misfortune, she caught him from the corner of her eye.

The voices got overwhelming.

"Do it!"

"Will you leave?"

She looked surprised to see him out of all people, and as she hurriedly headed towards him, he realized that he didn't have much time.

Bringing the screwdriver he was holding, the one he had used to open the door, up in the air, he struck her face. There wasn't much blood, the wound wasn't a large one, but he had still done it, he had still cut her face.

"He cut you! He cut you!"

She collected some blood with her finger, and when she locked eyes with him again, he almost froze. Waymond didn't remember ever seeing Veronica truly angry, but maybe that was why it scared him so much. He needed to make a run for it, now or never.

"You better start running!"

"Run"

And he did.

He had to reach the front door before her.

She stomped angrily towards him, her cheek stained, the cut on her face dripping a slow trickle of blood that she hadn’t wiped away.

His vision got blurry as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he didn't know why, but before he noticed, he had slipped on something, falling on his face to the floor.

"Here is Veronica"

Waymond tried to drag himself away, but she pinned him down with her own body, far stronger than one might assume from just looking at her.

The last thing he saw after turning his head around was his wife lifting a rolling pin far up the air, with nothing but anger in her face.

There was no hesitation, no remorse, when she brought it down violently with a sickening crunch.

Then, darkness.

-

October 15th, 1965

It was early in the morning when her husband's funeral could finally be held.

She had wanted it to be a small, private thing, and everyone had respected it. They thought she needed to take her time after Waymond's sudden murder, but the truth was simply that Veronica did not wish for more stress.

Between destroying the evidence, the investigation, having to close down the bakery temporarily and now being a widowed mother, she wasn't in the mood to handle large groups of people giving her and her family their condolences.

Lucille was still crying, even if she had already told her the truth of why it had been necessary, but she couldn't really judge her daughter. Waymond had still been the girl's father, and they had been far closer than Veronica herself had ever been with their child, so she could only let the small girl keep crying for a father so dear, no matter how inconvenient his actions had managed to be.

But Veronica didn't cry, or feel sad, or scared for the future.

As her husband was given his last farewell, she just stared blankly, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

[toastytrusty]

carolinas journey to becoming agent carolina is something so fascinating to me because it's something we know virtually nothing about. the state of the church family in General prior to the war is something so intriguing.

like, carolina definitely did dance as a kid, that feels like a given. the 1st grader going to ballet practice after school every day to the highschooler juggling 3 different types of martial arts classes every week to cope with the imminent threat of extinction pipeline is too real. her stern but caring father who just wants her to be the best she can be pushing her to learn acrobatics and gymnastics and her distant but loving mother who just wanted her to survive teaching her to defend and take care of herself.

although the dysfunctional family interpretations are good, i think it's a lot more interesting if, prior to the war, they were a picture perfect american nuclear family. no ill will, just high expectations set on an overarching daughter who felt she always had to do better. it makes the drastic change in mr leonard churchs demeanour that much more impactful. it's made clear in the show that losing allison was hugely damaging to him, so it's not that big of a stretch to say he was a loving father who was affectionate towards his daughter.

carolina probably tried to enlist in the military to follow her mom when the war started. that's what she had been training for all this time, after all. someone would have stopped her; maybe a mother who cared too much about her safety or a father who didn't want to lose her too. but when allison died, of course, everything changed.

her fathers subdued cynicism morphed into fanatical obsession, his warm fondness turning into cold apathy, and he pushed her away. whatever name she once had didnt matter as she became agent carolina, and whatever connection they once shared unraveled as she became a means to an end. previous high expectation for her own sake turned into a required standard; a threshold she could not slip beneath, and it wasn't about her anymore. he wanted to suceed, and carolina wasnt allowed to want anything else.

[hvproductions]

◣ NEW VERSION OF MY PREVIOUS STORY! ◥

SERIES: Who Will Save You Now? FANDOM: Peaky Blinders PAIRING: Female!Reader x Michael Gray I Female!Reader x Peaky Blinders

↬ prologue ↫

Cold. Heartless. Cunning. Capable of outsmarting Thomas Shelby. Those were the words used to describe Raimond Pierce on the streets of Birmingham. Besides the Peaky Blinders - who were slowly rising into the ranks - and Billy Kimber, Raimond Pierce was a name to be feared, with some saying the man had more power than the previous two combined.

You understood too clearly the source of those words used to describe your father. He had not always been the person he was now; you fondly remembered the times when he was a doting husband and a loving father, yet those times were now only a distant memory buried at the back of your mind. You couldn't really blame him - the look in his eyes when he learned of your mother's death along with her lover haunted you day and night. On that day, Raimond Pierce died along with her, and for three years there had been no indication of his old self returning.

'Y/N Pierce - she is the daughter of Raimond Pierce,' were the words used to describe who you were. It was your father's name that installed fear into people, not yours. How funny it seemed to you how the people of Small Heath only knew you as his daughter, and not as his pawn who you had been for the past years. Raimond was smart enough not to let anyone learn of that.

His demands ranged from kissing to sleeping with someone, all on the promise that one day you'd be the one to lead the family and all of the businesses he had started from nothing. Almost blindly you had followed his requests without any hesitation, knowing well enough that if there was something Raimond Pierce didn't break, it was his promise. And while you were sure of the legitimacy of his word, your father didn't stop reminding you how he wished for anyone but you to succeed him; in his mind, a woman couldn't lead a business and be ruthless when doing so. Yet the other option would have been your uncle, and if there was one person he couldn't stand in this world, it was his own brother.

Until you learned of his plan to marry you off to a Shelby. You could understand his desire to make peace with the family; after all, not too long ago you had been allies with them against Billy Kimber and the Italians, until that unity turned into betrayal once more. It had come from your father's side, resulting in multiple kidnappings of your men as well as some deaths. Now, your father was done with a war with the Shelbys, hoping to unite your family and theirs for an eternity.

It was the last time you would have to be a pawn in one of Raimond Pierce's games.

"You are bold if you think you have any choice in the matter." Raimond's blue eyes glared into yours, the stern look on his face which still feared you, no matter how many times you had witnessed it. The fact you had dared to decline surprised even you; you were positive you would have ended up with a slap if it wasn't for your uncle's presence in the room; after all, your father had an image to keep up, especially in front of his brother.

It was no secret that Andre Pierce had spent most of his life in the shadow of his younger brother. Ever since early childhood, your father had been the one favored, not only by their parents, but by strangers as well. Your uncle, however, was left in the background. To make matters worse it had been Raimond who your grandfather left his pub, the most valued treasure of the Pierce family. It surprised you that Andre hadn't put a bullet into your father's head because of that.

"I meant what I said. I am done being used as a pawn in your business. If you want me to marry a Shelby, I have some demands."

Laughter escaped Andre's lips, and if it wasn't for the staring contest between you and your father, you would have focused all of your anger on your uncle; yet you couldn't allow yourself to be distracted, not now when you were ordered to do something that would change your life in such a significant way. An order that you would not carry out as a dutiful soldier like you had done so many times in the past.

"Leave us." Raimond commanded; with a wave of his hand he made it clear that it was Andre who was meant to leave the office. With a dumbfounded look, Andre was ready to argue with your father, until the glare Raimond had pointed at you met your uncle instead. Andre Pierce was not one to back down easily, but the look on Raimond's face was one that he had seen far too many times - one full of anger, and death. A look that made Andre wonder if he'd be on the receiving end of the gun his brother always kept on his table.

"Do you know why I'm so hard on you?" Raimond started, motioning for you to take a seat opposite to him. Hesitantly, you sat down, waiting for your father to continue.

"This family needs a strong leader, not a weak one. God knows Andre wouldn't be one." A chuckle escaped his lips as he took a sip of his drink - whiskey, a drink that because of your father you too prefered.

"What are your demands?"

"I want you to teach me everything about this business, about every gangster there is in England. Who are allies with one and enemies with another."

He wanted to ask why, if he didn't know the answer to that question already. You had declared your desire to lead the Pierce gang even before the death of your mother. Of course, Caitlyn Pierce was quick to shut your ambitions down; a part of you wondered if it was because of your mother Raimond had kept you away from the illegal business he was conducting. She wasn't here now to take away your dreams as she had done in the past - it was now only Raimond Pierce, an obstacle on your path to glory which you were certain you deserved. Power, and glory.

"If I teach you, this will not mean you will be the next leader." It was a start, an opportunity to prove what Y/N Pierce was capable of. An opportunity you were determined to take full advantage of. You wanted to smile, but responded only with a simple nod which Raimond took as his cue to continue.

"Good. Here's lesson number one. Never tell anyone about what dealings take place behind closed doors, especially Andre." Another nod.

"We do not nod, we say the words. Do you understand?" The harshness of your father's voice made you feel as if you were five years old about to get a scolding from your father. But you knew what your father was doing: "Backbone," he used to say, "is what is needed in this business."

Strengthening your posture, you declared with a loud voice: "I understand." The look on your father's face was a curious one; if you didn't know any better you would have thought that he even seemed a little proud.

"Good. Now go find yourself a nice dress. We're having a party tonight."

Taglist of the previous story version ◣ if you want to be added or removed, please do let me know ◥ : ➸ @paradiseletters  ➸ @tynabyna  ➸ @moonlightsong  ➸ @theasskickingiowan  ➸ @hemmo-hottie  ➸ @sociomoon  ➸ @wisdomcrys  ➸ @sweetpeas-serpent-princess  ➸ @barikawho  ➸ @stressedandbandobessed7771  ➸ @currentlyconfused16​  ➸ @nyxestia​  ➸ @sargeant-bxrnes​

[peony-pearl]

I think one of the easiest, but still complicated ways, to look at Iroh’s ‘laziness’ or how he ‘sat back during Ozai and Zuko’s Agni Kai’ is something that kind of happens in a lot of families.

There are things that seem strange to other families that, within another family unit, would be very normal.

When I would talk to my previous therapist, I was going through a period where I really, really missed my family. The only family I have near me is my dad and stepmom and her family extended around the city that I’m not close enough with to just go and visit or go to lunch with. I have to travel 2+ hours to start seeing others, and, working full time, I don’t get the chance to just up and go as much as I would like.

I grew up with my mom and stepdad, two older siblings, and around aunts and uncles and my maternal grandma (dad’s parents lived out in the country; I rarely saw them if he wasn’t in town). My grandmother was always within reach and was reliable; a stern British woman who made sure no one went without, but wasn’t the traditional warm, affectionate Grandma, although I have so many pleasant memories of her.

I saw a very specific portion of my aunts and uncles on a regular basis for Sunday dinners at her home (my mother was the youngest of 8 kids). Some showed up less than others; and being a kid I took those days for granted.

Growing older and seeing and knowing how internally distant my family is, let alone that many of them are barely Facebook-savvy, I would tell my therapist how much I missed it. She would say ‘well, try to reach out and get an idea of a reunion going’

to which I replied ‘oh no, you don’t understand. That isn’t going to happen.”

And she would ask why.

And I didn’t have an immediate answer other than ‘it’s just not.’

Everyone knows things about their family in ways they can’t discuss that may seem obvious on the outside. My family is hermit-like, quiet, particular; unless they’re bonding over something they enjoy and then we can laugh and riot. But change on my mom’s side is HARD; to the point that it’s an inside joke - even to my dad who has been divorced from my mom for over 30 years. I can joke about my mom’s sides particularities with him, because it’s very very obvious once you spend some time with them.

Distance is normal on my mom’s side; and even a bit on my dad’s side. We can joke a lot about how we can never talk for years and then we see each other and just continue like nothing’s happened. It’s not personal, we just... aren’t great at keeping in touch. Unless some are more prone to messaging or texting; then it’s a matter of actually sending something.

‘Wait, don’t you at least send a ‘hey how are you?’

Actually no. I’m friended with some family members on Facebook and we just... don’t really talk. But if we all see each other again we’ll continue like we always have.

I don’t even have the contacts to all of my family members. Ones that I do, I rarely speak to. I speak the most to one of my sisters, but that doesn’t detract to how much I love my other sister. I see my dad and stepmom on a regular basis and I call my mom 2-4 times a month. But I can’t just call my mom without sending her a text earlier saying that I can call, or else it’ll throw her off. She wouldn’t tell me I couldn’t talk, but her routine will get shifted around.

Because even if I did get the idea out about a reunion for my mom’s side, it’s a matter of who could show up; or who WOULD show up, or who would even respond to the idea of a reunion.

And maybe I’m wrong; because change for me is hard too, and the idea overwhelms me, even to see people I love, to navigate such an idea frightens me as well.

Families all have their internalized issues; it doesn’t answer problems to their fullest and I’m probably just rambling, but anyway.

Back to the point

Zuko, Ozai, Azula and Iroh, being part of a militaristic royal family that is highly dysfunctional and absolutely shows favorites (despite Iroh trying his best to become enlightened from his mistakes and traumas), isn’t going to change on a dime. Zuko’s Agni Kai was horrifying.

And yet Azula, Zuko’s own sister (who has her own set of issues), and Zhao (who, aside from speculations, is not part of the royal family) smile at the act of Ozai burning his son’s face. No one is showed to balk at the series of events or cry out for Ozai to stop.

Zuko - the crown prince, spoke out against a cruel plan and was punished for it by his own father - no one in the kingdom stepped forward to stop it, despite it being obvious that something had to be done.

But Iroh, even if he tried to help simply knew one thing.

If just couldn’t be stopped. And he would never be able to tell anyone outside of the fire Nation how and why.

Because it just couldn’t.

[wizkiddx]

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so....  also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x 

[previous part] [part 1] 

warnings:  hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother. 

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged. 

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked. 

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital. 

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket. 

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time. 

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver. 

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert. 

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle. 

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

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

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something. 

The feeling  was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it. 

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly. 

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar. 

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too? 

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain. 

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness. 

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes. 

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a  weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed. 

Her hospital bed. 

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom. 

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure. 

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby. 

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible. 

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost. 

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement. 

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.  

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission. 

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.  

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room. 

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman. 

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling. 

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days. 

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed  greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting. 

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through. 

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce. 

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him. 

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly. 

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard. 

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little. 

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?” 

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape. 

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?” 

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his. 

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains. 

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?”  Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas. 

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence. 

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too. 

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too. 

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other. 

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream. 

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted,  he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together. 

~~~~

 I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51 

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***

The Backstory

September 2006

In Nora Priestley’s fourteen years of life, she’s never lived this far away from the ocean before. It’s always been just right outside her window, a quick ten-minute trek from Thames Street until she reached the rolling dunes of Rejects Beach. Smelling the salt in her hair and feeling her skin grow sticky from the feeling of the ocean air was practically second-nature to her, but ever since she moved to the middle of nowhere Connecticut for boarding school, she’s never felt more disconnected from normality in her life.

Nora’s never really been a big fan of embracing change. She’d like to blame that on the fact that she’s never really had any monumental shifts to her tectonic plates so far in her short life, and she’s not quite sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s always been just her and her mom. A dynamic duo. A tag team of epic proportions. 

Growing up in Newport, Rhode Island could be worse, Nora thinks. She was lucky enough to grow up in a small coastal town where everybody accepted her in one way or another. Even though she was much different than the other kids her age, considering she spent most of her time alone while her mother worked, she never felt unhappy. Life was simple. Life was easy.

Nora and her mother, Shannon, lived in a small apartment in a renovated old colonial townhouse at the bottom of Thames Street. It was a third-floor walk-up, and in the heat of the summer when the humidity made the wallpaper begin to curl at the edges of her tiny paisley-coated bedroom, Nora had to sleep with her creaky window open with nothing but a thin sheet to cover her sweat-soaked body, the soft sounds of the rolling waves crashing against the shore lulling her to sleep.

Shannon Priestley was the ultimate leading lady in Nora’s life. She referred to Nora as her perfect mistake, because having a baby the summer she turned eighteen with a boy she thought would be her forever was the very definition of that phrase. But she handled it like she did everything else in her life—with grace and dignity, and nothing but a big gleaming grin on her face that always made Nora and everyone else lucky enough to be around her sunbeam feel that everything would be okay. 

With a one-year-old baby on her hip and a bright and shiny high school diploma under her belt, Shannon found a job listing to be a nanny for the Clemonte’s. Without a second’s deliberation, she packed up her things and moved to the tip of the state to Newport. 

The Clemonte’s were one of the wealthiest families in Newport, hailing from an impressive lineage of old money with an expansive estate of fourteen acres overlooking Ochre Point and the Atlantic Ocean. They were one of those families that named their properties, and when Shannon Priestley first stepped foot inside The Breakers mansion, she knew right then and there that her new bosses had very high expectations for her.

Shannon became the singular nanny to Warren and Jane Clemonte’s baby son, William. He was born three months after Nora, and even though Shannon felt slighted that she had to spend most of her days with another family’s child while her own was being watched by their downstairs neighbor, she promised to split her time evenly. And even though twenty-four hours in a day was never enough for Shannon, she made sure to spend most of it with Nora.

And Nora was always grateful for that. 

The second Nora was old enough to take care of herself, she started going to The Breakers after school so that her mom could walk her home. It was at that very moment when she had her first taste of ostentatious luxury, and from then on it never failed to amaze her. The other half certainly did live differently than Nora and her mother, and stepping foot inside the Clemonte’s mansion made that realization startlingly clear. 

This was when she first met William Clemonte. Nora always knew he existed, considering her mother would sprinkle in small anecdotes about him while doing other mundane tasks. “Willy was very quiet today,” Shannon would tell Nora on their walk home from Ochre Point to Lower Thames. “Mr. and Mrs. Clemonte want Willy to take piano lessons and learn Latin. How on earth is a seven-year-old supposed to handle that?”

To Nora, Willy was somewhat of a fictional character living behind the towering walls of The Breakers. She imagined him being a smaller boy, blonde with blue eyes and wearing some sort of matching ensemble sitting inside the thick walls of his mansion, overlooking the deep cobalt ocean through a grand wall of windows. But when she meets him one afternoon after her first day of second grade, she could not be any more wrong.

Sure, Willy Clemonte was a small boy, but he was by no means shy or scared of her. He took her on a tour through the grand halls of The Breakers, showed her all of the secret passageways built inside the walls from when the mansion was first erected back in the early twentieth century, and shared his brand new toys with her. 

But most importantly, he listened to her. He asked her a million questions about public school, about the world outside of his tall fortress, about the television shows Shannon let Nora watch after dinner, and the different kinds of popular music other kids their age were listening to.

“Wait, so *NSYNC isn’t just Justin Timberlake?” Willy would ask whenever Nora would show him what was inside her portable CD player (which was almost exclusively No Strings Attached until she reached the fourth grade). 

“Oh my god, Willy! *NSYNC is a boyband! Justin is just the best one,” Nora would scold right back, shoving the plastic headphones over his blonde head of hair so that the felt cushions would press against his ear, the vibrating thumps of “Bye Bye Bye” playing through the electronic equipment.

Whenever he would ask her about school, Willy was always shocked to hear how different her experience was from his own. Nora would tell him about the yellow school buses that picked up and dropped off her friends, she would show up to his house afterward wearing jeans and a pink Gap sweatshirt and he was always surprised to learn that kids could wear whatever they wanted during the day, and when she would come over on Fridays and tell him that her mother gave her a dollar for pizza day at lunchtime, Willy wished more and more that he could go to public school with her, too.

While Willy was nothing but sunshine and kindness, Warren Clemonte was the complete opposite. A cold and distant man, stern and grumpy with a perpetual frown on his face, he sent a terrifying chill all the way down to Nora’s bones until they rattled together like a hollow instrument. And one Thursday afternoon when Shannon was busy packing Willy’s bags for the Clemonte’s annual Christmas trip to Aspen, Warren caught his son running around the main hall searching through every nook and cranny for Nora’s impressive hiding spot. It was only once she heard the bellowing yells when she emerged from behind an old armoire in the library, peeking her head around the corner to watch Warren yell at Willy in the echoing hallway.

“What do you think you’re doing, running around when you’ve left your Latin workbook unfinished?” Warren demanded, his low voice bouncing off the thick walls.

“I’m sorry, dad. I was just—”

“—Just what? Playing around and avoiding your responsibilities? How are you supposed to learn anything if you spend all of your time dilly-dallying with that girl, William?”

Willy began to cry then, and before Nora could interfere, her mother was already ten steps ahead of her, entering the main hall and apologizing profusely while her daughter stayed hidden behind the old armoire, watching everything with regretful eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clemonte. I was just packing for Willy, I didn’t realize he had run off. I’ll make sure it never happens again, sir,” Shannon said, placing a comforting arm around Willy’s shaking shoulders while his father stood barely five feet away, watching his wailing son with lifeless eyes. 

“Please do, Miss Priestley. William does not need any more distractions.” His voice held a clipped finality to it, and when he walked away and Nora appeared from behind the wall to approach Willy who was clutching her mother for dear life, she never understood how his father could just leave his son to fall apart in front of him like that.

That was the last afternoon Nora ever spent at The Breakers. 

Up until four months ago, Nora was almost certain that the entire Clemonte family had forgotten that she existed, and that treacherous afternoon with Willy nearly seven years ago was just a sad memory that could be tarnished for the rest of eternity. But when her mother comes home with a thick black and red folder, the words Townbridge Academy in capital letters splayed against the front page above a golden crest, Nora’s never been more confused in her life.

When she asked her mother what she was doing with a boarding school acceptance letter in her hand that Nora had never heard of before, the answer she received was definitely not what she had expected. Apparently, Mrs. Clemonte found out that Nora was planning on attending the public high school on Broadway Street, and apparently, she believed that she could offer Shannon a lending hand. Nora would like to blame it all on Jane Clemonte’s philanthropic tendencies, but a few phone calls and a faxed copy of Nora’s stellar transcripts later, Nora was appointed a lofty scholarship to attend Townbridge Academy in the fall. 

All things considered, Nora did not want to go. She liked her middle school friends, she liked being her own person, she liked knowing that her mom was only a twenty-minute walk away, and most importantly, she liked not having to be associated with a family like the Clemonte’s. She didn’t want to be seen as a charity case, and accepting the scholarship on Mrs. Clemonte’s behalf to attend a prestigious boarding school like Townbridge Academy was exactly that.

But when her mother sat her down and told her how amazing this opportunity was, and how much Nora could accomplish with a diploma from one of the best schools in the country, Nora couldn’t bring herself to say no. Especially when her mother held her close and whispered in her ear, “God, Nora, you can do all of the things I never could have done,” Nora knew that there was no way she could break her mother’s heart.

Because now, standing in her new dorm room with deep oak walls, a creaky polished hardwood floor, a red ornamental rug that smelled a bit like Warren Clemonte’s cologne, and a small twin bed nestled in the corner underneath a window overlooking the bleak green hills of Connecticut—Nora Priestley wishes she had told her mother no.

Before she can even wallow in her own self-imposed misery, the front door opens revealing an older man carrying a trolley holding a matching six-piece set of luggage. Nora looks down to the singular old leather suitcase she purchased at a surplus store on Spruce Street resting on the floor, comparing it to the monogrammed navy blue set with the gold letters ARW spanning across each piece.

The man begins placing each suitcase onto the floor without uttering a word to a very confused Nora, and suddenly the door opens wider, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair floating into the room. She’s wearing a white tennis skirt that rests a few inches above her kneecap, with a powder blue collared shirt cuffed at the wrists. For a brief moment, Nora wonders if her mother purchased the wrong uniform set for her, but when the girl lifts her eyes from her Blackberry and looks over at Nora, she notices a sailor’s crest embroidered on the right side above her chest with more initials, and she begins to breathe a little. 

“Hi! You must be my roommate, I’m Nor—”

“—Where are the rest of your bags?” the girl interrupts, eyeing the old leather suitcase disdainfully. Nora’s fingers immediately fly up to her scalp and begin raking through her blonde hair, a nervous habit she’s tried her hardest to get rid of.

“I have a duffle on the desk chair, too,” Nora explains quietly, removing her hand from her hair so that she can point towards the old wooden desk that holds her mother’s duffle bag.

Nora watches as the girl’s piercing gaze shifts from her two flimsy bags to her outfit. And when Nora watches beady hazel eyes take in her old white tank top, her mom’s grey knit cardigan, thrifted bootcut jeans, and sandals from two summers ago, Nora’s never wanted to disappear more in her life. 

Before she can find the words to speak, Nora hears a shrill “Alyssa!” echo through the hallway, until a matching set of girls wearing nautical-inspired clothing and thick headbands are hugging the strawberry blonde-haired girl who just so obviously judged Nora a few moments ago.

“Who’s this?” one of the girls asks Alyssa, breaking away from their hug and looking over at Nora with interest.

Just as Nora reaches a hand out to introduce herself, Alyssa says, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go, girls,” and the three girls spin around without even uttering a goodbye. 

Nora watches as they walk down the hallway, giggling the entire way as if they hadn’t singlehandedly just ruined her first official day away from home.

***

October 2006

The first month at boarding school is just a series of Nora playing catch up. While she thought going to public school and hanging out with normal people would be enough to prepare her for high school, three weeks in she’s never felt more lost in her entire life.

She’s one of the only students who doesn’t own a cellphone, she wears second-hand Sperry’s instead of fancy loafers with gold links on the front, her backpack is a maroon Jansport while most students opted for leather messenger bags, and when people ask her how she spent her summer, she’s gotten used to the wide-eyed look they give her when she explains that she scooped ice cream near the beach for tips.

Nora’s not naive. She knows that she’s referred to as The Scholarship Girl behind her back, she knows that Alyssa complains to her elitist friends about how dreadful it is to be forced to room with a girl who wears hand-me-down clothing, and she knows that adjusting to life at Townbridge was going to be the very definition of arduous. 

But she remembers what her mother told her—how Nora’s skin is thicker than she thinks, and no matter how different she is to everybody else, she’s still just as deserving of a top-notch education. 

Even though Nora was at the top of her class for most of her life, she still felt far behind the rest of her classmates at Townbridge. She spends the first few weeks getting very acquainted with the walls of the library, making the nearly twenty-minute trek from her dorm in Emerson Hall to Millikan Library across campus. Classes have only just begun, but Nora can’t afford to fall any more behind than she already has. So instead of making friends and signing up for various clubs and sports teams, Nora’s allowed her backside to practically mold into the stiff wooden chairs inside the empty library.

Nora would have completely forgotten about the First Year Mixer being held that evening if not for Alyssa and her friends getting ready in her dorm room. When she walks in still wearing her uniform well after classes have ended for the day, the three girls look at her as if she were crazy.

“Did you forget about the mixer tonight, Nora?” Grace, one of the twins, asks with a shocked expression decorating her pretty face. All three girls are wearing colorful Lilly Pulitzer dresses, passing along mascara and eyeshadow amongst themselves in preparation for tonight.

“Uh, no I was just—”

“—Making friends with the books again?” Alyssa sneers, earning a giggle from the girls.

Nora chooses not to respond. It’s just easier that way.

Walking over to her wardrobe, Nora sorts through her limited selection of clothing to find something appropriate to wear for tonight. She didn’t even want to be in attendance, but she’s figured that she’s probably spent enough time on her own, and that maybe, in the off chance that Townbridge has some normal students, she can make a friend or two.

The only two dresses she brought with her were a simple long-sleeved cream sweater dress that fell just above her knees, and a thin summer dress her mother bought her two years ago that was tighter and fell around mid-thigh. She goes with the sweater dress, deeming it the best outfit she has to just simply blend in. Once it’s over her head, she reaches for her thigh-high socks and brown boots she got as a graduation gift, slipping them on quickly. October has left a brisk chill in the nighttime air, and considering her jackets consisted of a worn-in winter parka and an oversized flannel she scored at Goodwill, Nora thinks this combination will be more than fine.

She reaches for the comb on her desk and begins to rake it through her knotted hair, smoothing out the kinks and leaving the strands to fall in their messy, wavy natural state. Just as she’s digging through her backpack to try and find her lip balm and mascara, she can’t help but overhear Alyssa gossiping to Grace and Erin loudly from across the room.

“Harry’s plane landed a few hours ago,” Alyssa gushes, plucking the blush from Grace’s hands and beginning to apply it to the apples of her cheeks.

“Oh my God, no way! You must be so excited, Lyss!” Erin squeaks, reaching for the lipgloss that Alyssa just used. Before she can even remove the lid, Alyssa swats at her wrists and tells her to pick another color.

“Have you been texting all summer?” Grace asks from behind the vanity.

Alyssa nods, readjusting her freshly curled hair. “Ever since he left the Hamptons in July, yeah. We’ve been messaging back and forth. He told me he can’t wait to see me tonight.”

“That’s so romantic, Lyss!” Erin says, and Nora tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I can’t believe they let him miss the first three weeks of school.”

“He’s Harry Styles, Erin,” Grace chides, turning to face her sister with slanted eyes. “He can do whatever he wants.”

Nora twists the mascara wand back into the tube before backing away from her desk, double-checking her outfit to make sure that it was suitable enough. Just as she gives her hair one last fluff, she hears Alyssa ask, “Are you really not going to do anything with your hair?”

Nora turns towards her with a sheepish look, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t own any styling tools so…” she lets the words fall from her mouth, watching the three girls in front of her look at her as if she had a second head growing out of her neck.

“You’ve never straightened your hair?! I’m sure Alyssa will let you borrow—”

“—Erin! Enough. Let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Alyssa scolds, ending the conversation abruptly. Before Nora can even shoot a smile in Erin’s direction, the three girls are already out the door, leaving Nora to walk to the Great Hall by herself. 

The problem with spending all of her time walking from her dorm to the lecture halls on East Campus to Millikan Library is that she seemingly forgot where every other building was. Trying to locate the Great Hall in daylight was already difficult for Nora, but now with the sun practically set behind the horizon and her sense of direction completely shit, she starts panicking when she’s walked by the dining hall for the third time.

An upperclassman saves Nora before she can have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the quad, and with two minutes to spare, Nora finds a row with a few empty seats towards the back of the room. 

Nobody seems to have noticed her, save for the girls in the row in front of her who turn around when Nora’s boots jostle their chairs. She offers them a muffled apology, and just as quickly as they turned around to look at her, they swivel their necks to face the front again.

Nora sighs to herself, before lifting her head to hear the Headmaster begin his speech. After listening to him drawl about the mission statement and his expectations for the first-year students, Nora immediately wishes she never left her dorm room. She can feel her eyes begin to droop, and before her body can slump further down into her chair, the sound of a heavy oak door closing echoes throughout the Great Hall, and Nora feels her body springing upwards.

Headmaster Clayton pauses in his monotonous ramblings, and before the entire collection of students in front of Nora can turn around to see what the interruption was, a long body falls into the chair next to hers, and the Headmaster resumes his speech as if nothing ever happened. 

“Did I miss anything?” an impossibly British voice whispers in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit surprised by the low timbre of it. She looks over at him and finds herself staring into green pools with a golden shimmer surrounding his irises. Nora’s never been captivated by a boy before—but the one sitting next to her with fluffy chocolate curls falling over his forehead, surrounding his ears, and ending at the nape of his neck might possibly be the first. His hands are shoved inside the pockets of an expensive-looking black trench coat, and his upper body is leaning towards hers as he awaits her response. When Nora notices his pink lips forming into a small smirk, she’s almost positive that she’s been caught staring at this boy for far too long.

“Uh, no. Not really,” she whispers back, scrutinizing the way her voice squeaked at the beginning of her sentence.

His smirk shifts into a full-blown grin, and Nora can feel her cheeks begin to burn. “Hm, sounds like somebody wasn’t paying attention in the first place.”

Before Nora can retort, the boy near her chuckles softly at her nervous expression. “Can’t say I blame you, love. Clayton’s a fucking fossil.”

Nora giggles, causing the girls in front of her to turn around again with a murderous expression on their faces. She stops abruptly, and after they’ve snapped their heads forward for the second time, she looks over to the boy on her left and finds him trying his hardest to stifle another chuckle.

He shifts his body so he’s no longer leaning in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit saddened by the sudden distance between them both. 

Nora replays the interaction in her inexperienced, fourteen-year-old mind, wondering if the boy near her was just flirting with her. There’s no denying that she thinks he’s cute, considering she finds herself sneaking looks at him every few minutes during the duration of Headmaster Clayton’s speech just to get another glimpse of his soft hair and sunken dimples. And on more than one occasion, he catches her in his periphery, shooting her that charming smirk that never fails to make her cheeks blush. 

The moment Headmaster Clayton wraps up his speech and the rest of the students begin to stand, Nora turns towards the boy and finds that he’s already looking at her. Now that they’ve exited their row, Nora notices how tall he is, taking in his long legs clad in black denim, his even longer torso in a similar black shirt. The all-dark ensemble somehow makes him look older. Makes him look mysterious. Makes him look even more handsome—and suddenly Nora’s grown a bit nervous.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake. He hesitates, looking between her face and her outstretched hand with a smile on his face, finding it incredibly cute that a girl his age would greet him so formally. 

Just before his hand can fall into hers, another hand claps him on the shoulder and he’s forced to look at the intrusion, his own arm falling back to his side. “Harry, my man! How was the flight?”

When Nora looks over his shoulder, she notices two boys greeting him warmly. She hasn’t really met anybody at Townbridge aside from Alyssa, Grace, and Erin, so she’s not surprised when she doesn’t recognize the two other boys infiltrating their small bubble.

But upon further inspection, Nora realizes that she does, in fact, recognize one of them.

Standing directly in her line of vision is none other than Willy Clemonte. Although it’s been seven years since Nora last saw him, there’s no denying that the sandy-haired, blue-eyed teenager in front of her is him. He’s practically almost the same height as his father now, towering over Nora in his khaki pants and a white cable-knit sweater. His hair still tangles in his eyelashes and his cheeks are still dusted with freckles, and Nora’s stunned at the sudden rush of memories that flood her insides.

He seems to have made the same startling realization as Nora did, because his eyes begin to widen almost comically, and a strained expression falls over his features. Before they can give away that they’ve been staring at each other, the boy from before, now known to Nora as Harry, spins around on his heels and gives her a small smile.

“Nora, right?” he asks, and she nods hesitantly. “Where are you from?”

“Uh, Newport,” Nora answers.

“Oh, wicked! So you must know Will, then?” Harry asks, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension radiating from the two of them. 

Before she can respond, Will clears his throat and takes a step forward. With one last panicked look at Nora, he tells Harry, “Yeah, man. Her mom was one of our maids.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, confusion written all over his face. Nora’s surprised that she can hear it over the sound of her breath leaving her lungs from Willy’s comment. Sure, she knew that the last time they saw each other he was crying into her mother’s arms over a remark his father said, and sure, she didn’t expect them to resume their friendship as if nothing had happened.

But to blatantly lie about Nora’s mother, a woman who took care of him for years? Nora never thought that he would grow up to be so cruel. 

To twist the knife lodged into her chest even further, Alyssa and the twins approach the group with annoyed looks, all aimed in Nora’s direction. They seem to have overheard Willy’s previous comment, and before Nora can even defend herself, Alyssa reaches out and wraps her hand around Harry’s forearm as if she were claiming him in front of everybody.

“Yeah, apparently Townbridge is letting just about anybody in this year. Just ignore her, Harry, we all have been,” she says, her tone nothing but dismissive. 

Nora watches as Harry shifts his gaze from Alyssa to her. His green eyes fall down her body, and for the first time, he notices the loose thread at the hemline of her dress from overwear, the tear in her socks behind the knee, her brown boots that lack the distinction of a designer label. With one last look at her, he takes a step back, and Nora knows right then and there that she’s been condemned as an outsider. 

“C’mon Harry, tell us all about the rest of your summer in France! I want to hear all about it,” Alyssa enthuses, and without a second look, the group turns around and leaves Nora staring after them.

No matter how attractive she finds Harry, there’s no denying that his personality is undeniably ugly. And as she watches him wrap an arm around Alyssa’s shoulder, Nora thinks it’s quite fitting that they’ve both found each other.  

***

November 2007

Summer has always been Nora’s favorite season (living permanently near the ocean sort of makes that inevitable), but that summer after her first year, Nora’s never been more excited to be home. She missed her mom, she missed the beach, and she missed her normal friends who didn’t care that she wore sandals that were falling apart and shorts that were fraying at the edges.

When Nora came back from school, she begged her mother not to send her back to Townbridge for her second year. She told her how she couldn’t make friends, how everybody made her feel like a social pariah, and how she was absolutely miserable being so far away from her. 

“Oh, Nora baby,” her mother said, holding her close. “You know exactly who you are. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent—and you’re so much better than those kids who make you feel like you aren’t.”

“You don’t understand, mom,” Nora said through hiccups, wet tears soaking her cheeks, “They hate me. All of them. They never even gave me a chance.”

“Everybody?” her mother asked. And when Nora just stared at her with her lower lip trembling, Shannon combed her fingers through Nora’s blonde hair comfortingly. “I’m sure there are people at Townbridge who are just like you. I just don’t think you’ve tried to find them yet.”

Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Nora knew that her mother was right. So after another summer filled with scooping ice cream for tips and spending every second of her days off at the beach reading romance novel after romance novel, Nora packed up her things for the second time—this time with another suitcase—and set off for Connecticut with higher hopes for her second year.

Things seemed to be turning around for her when she discovered that her roommate was no longer Alyssa Whalen. Instead, it was a girl named Lydia who lived a few towns over in Madison by the beach, just like Nora. They bonded instantly over their shared love of having sea-knotted hair and the feeling of having sand squished between your toes and letting your fingers wrinkle from wading through the briny water for too long. And when Lydia encourages Nora to sign up for the swim team with her, Nora’s grateful that she’s finally found a friend in this hellhole. 

Her second year is leagues better than her first, considering in the first three months, she barely had to cross paths with Alyssa and Harry. On the rare instances that they do run into each other, they simply ignore the other’s existence, and Nora doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s just easier that way, she supposes.

Halfway through Nora’s swim season, she turns sixteen and discovers that everybody around her is getting their license. Lydia’s parents bought her a used 2005 Honda Civic when she passed her driver’s test, and when she told Nora that she could use it whenever she needed, Nora felt bad lying to her new friend. Because once again she was playing catch up, getting her learner’s permit over the summer when everybody was already scheduling their exam, and with the way things were going, Nora wouldn’t be able to get her license until she was home again for summer break.

She also didn’t want to admit to Lydia that she couldn’t afford a car, and that her mother would never allow Nora to take her 1997 Toyota Corolla to campus. 

After swim practice one November afternoon, Nora leaves the Athletic Center with wet hair to head back to her dorm in Donahue Hall completely across campus. Normally, Nora walks with Lydia, but since it’s Friday and students who live in-state with a license are allowed to leave campus for the weekend, Nora’s forced to make the twenty-minute journey alone. 

With her gym bag slung over her shoulder, Nora begins to walk through the parking lot to head towards the footpath that will bring her through campus. The sky is awfully dark for four in the afternoon, and when she looks up and notices the menacing grey clouds, she kicks herself for not packing her umbrella before she left her room this morning.

Just as she’s almost in the clear, she hears a familiar giggle that makes her skin crawl. Living with Alyssa for one excruciating year has allowed Nora to recognize that sound almost immediately, and sheepishly she tucks her chin deeper into the neckline of her jacket, praying that her face is hidden as she walks past the group. 

When Nora reaches inside her half-zipped gym bag for her water bottle, she swears to herself when the strap detaches from the siding and the nylon bag falls to the cement. Making sure everything is strapped appropriately, she heaves the bag over her shoulder once it’s zipped up. As she swings her elbow to place the bag comfortably around her body, she doesn’t take into account her proximity to a particularly shiny black SUV—and just before she can escape the parking lot undetected, her bag smashes against the hood of the car, causing the headlights to flicker on and off and the alarm to blare piercingly through the space. 

“Hey!” Nora hears from behind her. When she turns she sees Harry jogging towards her, his brown hair dripping from the shower he just took. He’s wearing joggers and a Townbridge Academy Soccer sweatshirt, and when he reaches inside his pocket and reveals a shiny key fob, Nora swears for the second time knowing that the fancy car she just accidentally hit belonged to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” His voice is booming through the parking lot and it’s enough to make Nora feel incredibly small. When he finally presses the alarm button on his key and the blaring stops, she can hear his exasperated breaths in its place, and she’s not quite sure what’s worse.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“—I saw the whole thing, Harry!” Alyssa calls over from her spot across the cement, walking towards the pair of them with an accusatory finger extended in Nora’s direction. “She slammed her gym bag against your car.”

“It was an accident!” Nora screeches, feeling her face turning red. “My bag strap fell off and when I went to put it back on my shoulder, I bumped your car. Not, er, intentionally.”

Harry looks between the two girls with an annoyed expression on his face. “Just be more careful, yeah? It’s brand new.”

When Nora looks at the behemoth of a vehicle to her left, observing the shiny black exterior with the words Range Rover written across the front in chrome lettering, she can only imagine the outrageous price tag it has. Which is why she nods, apologizing one last time.

“Won’t happen again.” Nora begins to turn around on her heel, just as the air begins to get cooler and the slightest smell of rain can be detected in the distance.

“You’re walking all the way to Donahue in the rain?” Harry asks suddenly, and Nora begins to wonder how he even knows she lives in that building. She pauses, thinking if he or Alyssa or any one of their stupid friends lives in Donahue, and when she comes up with nothing, she turns around with a confused expression on her face.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a car.” Before she can feel the first drop of rain hit her skin, laughter erupts from the small group surrounding Harry and his car. Nora hides her face, wishing the ground would swallow her up. 

With one last gulp, Nora turns around and begins walking towards the footpath, shoving the hood of her flimsy rain jacket over her head. 

“Well, at least your hair is already wet!” Nora hears Alyssa call out from behind her, with more laughter following until Nora’s a safe distance away from where she can no longer be scrutinized by Harry and his rude friends.

As Nora reaches Donahue Hall with her tracksuit bottoms sticking to her legs like a second skin and her jacket completely drenched, all she can think about is how she’d rather walk another ten miles before ever having another conversation with Alyssa Whalen and Harry Styles if her life fucking depended on it.

***

A/N: Here’s chapter two! We’ve finally met Harry and Alyssa (yikes), so feel free to share with me your thoughts and predictions for the next part! High school is a funny time period to write about, and I’m excited to share the next part with you all. Look out for it on Friday, February 19th, which will be the normal update schedule. Until then, stay safe! x

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[unabashegirl]

Enticing (22) preview

Summary: Harry Styles is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

Author’s note: Hello everyone! I just want to let you all know that I have the workflow already planned out for the rest of the chapters. I’ve decided to do TWO SEASONS of Enticing and I already have the end of this first season planned. I’ve decided to do two seasons because it would give me the chance to post a new series that I’ve been working on, and it would also give me time to get ahead with the second season and get ahead.

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

It was a gorgeous day in Lake Como. The night before after arriving, they had gone straight to bed. All five had been exhausted after the trip. Besides the exhaustion, Y/N's mind had been a mess. She had felt how distant Harry had been.  He had barely spoken to her and whenever she reached out to hold his hand or kiss him, he would pull away. So, when the morning came, she didn’t lay and wait until Harry woke up, but instead went straight to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

She put on a hot red bikini and threw on a beige linen set. Y/N looked over her shoulder to make sure that Harry was still sleeping before sneaking out of the room with her sandals in her hand, so his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Good morning!” Chiara was in the kitchen, preparing some coffee and making some fresh juice. “How’d you sleep?”.

“Good! Would you like some help?” She offered, even though she could see that she had it handled. Chiara like all the high society women that Y/N had met, had a chef and a team of helpers. It hadn’t been easy for Chiara. She was a traditional Italian woman who liked to have control of her kitchen, but the house was too big, and she was terribly busy with the store's management.

“No. It’s all right. Alessandro and William are already outside having breakfast. You should join them! I’ll be there in a second”.

“Holy shit! This was a journey” Y/N called out as she approached the table under the trees. “I wasn’t hungry, but I am now.” The table had been set up under a gazebo. It was adorned with fresh flowers and placemats that matched the color of the flowers.

“Good morning!” Alessandro put down his phone and leaned up to kiss her cheeks. “You look gorgeous.”

“This place is a dream” Y/N hugged William and then sat down beside Alessandro. “What time did you get up?” She asked as she started serving herself some food.

“At five” William sipped on his coffee, “We went out for a jog. I haven’t been able to button my pants since Rome” Alessandro and Y/N laughed. “I am not joking, but do a regret it? Absolutely not”.

“Where are Harry and Michael?”

“Harry is sleeping”

“I haven’t seen Michael.” Alessandro pointed out, “Perhaps he went out?”

“I’ll text him” William quickly texted him, “What are we doing today anyway?”

“I was thinking of just having a chill day by the lake. Does that sound good?”

“That sounds perfect” Y/N just wanted to lay out, read a book and get a tan. She was tired and wasn’t up for dressing up or going out to meet anyone. She was nervous. She thought about confronting Harry and asking why he had been in a mood. However, she was sick of confronting him and exhausted from trying for him to share his thoughts. Plus, every time she confronted him things got out of hand, and they ended up saying hurtful things to one another.

After breakfast, they all went down by the lake and settled by the dock. Alessandro made sure that food and refreshments were set out in case they craved something. He even made sure to set out sun tanning beds.

“I am seriously now concerned for Michael” Y/N put down her book and pulled her sunglasses down. “It's almost midday, and we haven't heard from him".... chapter continued on Patreon.

Click below and join our community to continue reading Different or Enticing. Check our different tiers one for $3.00 USD or get access to both series for $5.00 USD.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 17 | A Tale of Dragons

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Warnings: Soft Visenya being soft with Geralt and children

Word Count: 5.6k

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open!

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

She counts out each second, blade in hand as she moves along to her quiet muttering. Each step is like a dance, careful and practiced, as she leaves footprints in the dampened dirt. Every breath is even and quiet, inhaling on the beat and then exhaling on the offbeat. If her movements are a dance, then her breathing and counting is the song she sways to.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

She spins in time with the crescendo to the imaginary music. Her blade slicing through the air, steel whistling in the wind. But it isn’t uncontrolled. She maintains a firm grip on her blade, manipulating how it moves and where. She’s in a trance, captivated by the breeze on her bare skin and the symphony in her head. It’s not the rigorous and disciplined sword training she’s used to, that’s been hammered in her mind from the day she first held a sword. Instead, it’s lighter and freer, her sword becoming an extension of herself rather than a tool she uses separately from her.

“What are you doing?” a small voice says.

The music silences and her movements stop. She lowers the blade to face the ground rather than outward and turns, eyes falling to the ground. A small elven boy stares up at Visenya, curiosity, and wonder gleaming in his wide green eyes,

“Practicing,” she says, staring down at the small boy, no discernable emotion on her face. Despite the bluntness of her words and the blank expression on her face, the boy isn’t deterred.

“Can I try?”

She recognizes him as Rohir, the little boy that got knocked unconscious by the skeevy bandit Visenya killed. Within a few hours of making camp, he woke, restless and unable to stay in one spot for too long, much to the chagrin of his mother.

The corners of her lips twist into a look of amusement, eyes faintly twinkling in the dim light. He’s small, not much smaller than she had been the first time she held a sword - albeit a wooden one. She remembers faint memories of training yards and practice dummies at the Capitol; holding weapons too large for her, whilst onlookers simply ignored her, except for Ser Jaime. He stuck close to Visenya when he could, whether out of a sense of duty or genuine enjoyment, she never knew. As the years go on, she leans toward the latter, but a small part of her still hopes it was genuine liking.

A grin slowly creeps onto Rohir’s face, the prospect of sword training making his entire face light up with anticipation.

“No.” One word, two letters; that’s all it takes. The grin on his face and the sparkle in his eyes immediately disappear, leaving no trace of ever being there. Instead, a scowl overcomes his young features, his hands crossing over his chest. Visenya can’t help the snort that leaves her mouth, only further infuriating the boy.

“Why not?” His voice is petulant, a faint lisp following each letter.

“You’re too small. You’ll only hurt yourself,” she says, a hint of amusement in her otherwise deadpan tone.

“Says you!” he responded, fire and frustration coating each word.

“Says me,” Visenya mimics his words, lacking any of the heat that he possesses.

“But I’m really good!” Rohir exclaims.

She sheathes her blade, turning away from Rohir, eyes focusing on Geralt. He’s sitting on the ground, back against the trunk of a tree that’s on the other side of the camp. He sits so he’s not in the immediate line of sight, but at a vantage point that he can still see everything.

“I am sure you are,” Visenya says, a slight smirk on her lips. Ice cold leaves crack under the weight of her feet as she moves towards Geralt. Her walk is loose and casual, not a tense bone in her body.

“So why won’t you let me hold your sword?” He follows closely behind her, a furious storm, but his anger only furthers Visenya’s amusement.

“Because, you’re too small, and my sword is too big,” Visenya responds. She’s halfway to Geralt, standing in the center of the camp. Rohir huffs an argument on the tip of his tongue, only to be cut off by Amaria.

“Rohir! Come here, En'ca minne,” He loudly inhales only to sigh a moment later. Visenya hears his feet stomping into the dirt as he walks away. Quiet laughter follows Visenya as she closes the remaining distance between her and Geralt.

His eyes don’t move to meet hers; not when her feet appear in his peripheral vision nor when she joins him on the ground and her shoulder faintly brushes against his.

She says nothing and neither does he. Gold eyes focus on the flurry of movement and noises that fill the clearing. It’s more lively and happy than it had been only four hours ago. Amaria switches between tending to her still unconscious husband, only bearing to leave his side when she has to chase around one of her children who are acting up. The two youngest - Elana and Vyron - squeal in glee, chasing each other around without a care in the world. As their forms zip past Visenya she hears faint wisps of their conversation. They’re acting out a grand tale brimming with adventure and happy endings. They’re so free and untouched by the tragedy that was gripping at their feet, begging to pull them under its desolate claws.

She remembers those days. When she’d run around Winterfell like a feral animal, unblemished by the fate of her family. The horrors she was able to bury so deep in her mind they felt more like distant nightmares rather than reality, the box only unlocking when she grew old enough to understand that more than just silver hair separated her from the Starks.

More often than not she wishes she could go back, to be protected by the naivety of childhood.

“I didn’t take you as a fan of children?” Geralt’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. She glances over at him, the small smile that managed to slowly creep onto her face disappearing.

“Why?”

“They seem too loud, I thought you liked the quiet,” Geralt says. Visenya snorts, rolling her eyes. She returns her gaze to the clearing. Rohir sits beside his mother, a pout on his lips, still upset by Visenya's refusal to train him. Elana and Vyron continue to whip through the clearing, with no sign of stopping any time soon.

“I do, but children aren’t terrible,” Visenya answers, watching as the two youngest stop in a portion of the clearing that’s the farthest from anyone. Elana is yelling, the words foreign to Visenya, but Vyron seems to understand her perfectly.

“Do you want any?”

Visenya shrugs, watching as the respite the two children have taken ends as they continue to run around the clearing. She’s never thought about the prospect of children. For most of her life it seemed inevitable; she would be married to some lord or another, bear his children, and then die at some point. But then the war happened, and everything about her life that seemed certain became undetermined.

Visenya opens her mouth, despite not actually having an answer for his question, but is cut off as Elana appears, jumping onto Visenya's lap. Her breath is temporarily lost, and before she can regain it, Vyron quickly follows, landing on the right side of her lap just as Elana moves herself to rest on the left.

Geralt grunts, watching the two rambunctious children with a wary gaze, praying to every god that may listen that they don’t decide to jump on him next.

“Do you have any stories?” Elana asks, her face beaming in the dim light. A wide smile makes its home on her face, wonder causing her wide eyes to nearly glow. Vyron’s expression mimics hers, but his face is softer and smaller, causing him to look more like an excitable puppy. It’s nearly identical to Rickon, who clung to Visyena’s leg as if his life depended on it.

‘How fitting that he’s now dead,’

The thought enters and leaves her mind before she can fully comprehend it. Mentally she clears her mind, opting to focus on the wide-eyed children in front of her.

“What an odd question to ask. Why do you believe me to have any tales to speak of?” Visenya asks.

“You’re an adventurer. Adventures always have tales,” Elana says, her tone not allowing for objections. Her words are fact and she seems set on not accepting any other truths. Vyron doesn’t speak but opts to enthusiastically nod his head in agreeance with his older sister, a matching grin on his face.

“Do they now?” Visenya asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes,” Elana says, giving Visenya a single nod.

Laughter bubbles out of Visenya's mouth - the sound so light and sweet it captures the attention of Amaria and Rohir. She throws back her head and her eyes shut, the noise continues to resound in the camp. Geralt watches with less wariness, his face morphing into a less stern expression. On the opposite end of the camp, Amaria stands from her position, quickly making her way to the group of them, Rohir following behind her like a shadow.

“Elana, please, I’m sure the both of them would like to be left to silence,” she says, moving to grab her daughter. Elana’s posture slouches, the smile on her face falling ever so slightly. Visenya finally stops laughing, opening her eyes and looking towards Amaria.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Visenya says, shaking her head in disagreement as she adjusts to get in a more comfortable position. Amaria freezes in place, eyes darting between her children and Visenya as if she doesn’t actually believe the words she’s saying.

“As a matter of fact, I happen to have a tale that I know quite well, but it’s not one that I’ve experienced personally. Would you still like to hear it?” Visenya asks a playful grin resting on her features. Elana immediately perks up, nodding her head so enthusiastically it might’ve fallen off - Vyron following his sister's every movement.

“Yes, please please please,” Vyron and Elana immediately begin to plead, widening their eyes to achieve a more innocent and puppy dog appearance. Visenya’s eyes dart to Amaria, silently asking if it would be alright. The worry melts from Amaria’s face, posture relaxing as she grants Visenya a single nod.

She pauses for a second, racking her brain for a tale to tell that would be suited for an audience this age. She doesn’t think about it for long, a story she’s known since she could read words on a page immediately entering her mind.

“Let me tell you a story about dragons,” Visenya says. Elana and Vyron grow silent, waiting with bated breath for Visenya to continue. Rohir appears from behind his mother, a pout still present on his lips, eyes scowling at the dirt, but he continues forward, sitting right beside Visenya. He grabs a stick and begins tracing symbols into the dirt, refusing to make eye contact with anyone but the ground, attempting to maintain an air of disinterest.

“Many years ago, in a world far far away, there once was a city - Valyria they called it, and what a grand city it was. A place filled with wonder, magic, and dragons.”

Elana and Vyron gasp, audibly portraying their excitement. Rohir is more subtle, his ears only twitching slightly as his movements pause for a brief second. Visenya leans her head back, closing her eyes as she begins to bury herself in the stories she read a million times over, clutching that worn and torn book every night like it was the only thing keeping her on the ground. After a moment of silence and a deep breath, Visenya opens her eyes, staring straight ahead and into the fire that flickers a few feet away from them.

“It was a great city, managing to tame dragons they would ride into battle. They were fearsome and respected, managing to conquer large amounts of territories with their dragon fire. For 5,000 years Valyria was the capital of the greatest civilization, the heart of an empire that ruled half of the world. It was grand, but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, which leads into this story.”

The children are enraptured, eyes solely focusing on Visenya - even Rohir abandons his guise of not being interested in her tale. She doubts that Vyron is following the story, but his eyes are wide and mouth agape - growing more exaggerated each time she mentions‘<dragons>’. Elana is young, but her eyes are sharpened with intelligence that’s older than her as she seems to follow the story well.

Amaria no longer stands, opting to sit on the ground, opening her arms as Vyron crawls off of Visenya’s lap and onto his mothers. Visenya glances at Geralt, his eyes already on her, his gaze burning into her. Her mind stutters, fog momentarily taking over so she can no longer focus on anything. Eyes snap away, once again focusing on the fire to clear her mind.

“There were many great houses, one of them known as House Targaryen, with shining silver hair and amethyst purple eyes, the family held distinctive Valyrian features. Targaryens were believed to have a closer connection to their dragons, to understand them in a way the other dragonlords never would.”

“Because they had magic, right?” Elana says, her voice firm and sharp. Rohir turns to his sister, a pout on his lips as he shushes her. She turns to face him, a matching glare set on her face.

“If you wait, she’ll tell us,” he says. She huffs, an indignant look on her childish face.

“I just wanted to know!” Elana says.

“Well, you should just wait!” Rohir says, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Rohir, be nicer to your sister, she’s just excited,” Amaria says in a soft and soothing tone, diffusing the argument before it could get any worse.

“But--” Rohir says, but quickly grows silent when he receives a stern glare from his mother. He huffs, slouching his shoulders and looking towards the ground. Amaria sighs, looking at Visenya with a soft smile on her face. Visenya smirks, amusement glimmering in her eyes.

“But to answer your question, in a way they were magical. They didn’t have mages, but they had visions that would come in the form of dreams. The most notable of these came from Daenys the Dreamer, who saw the fall of Valyria.

“But they had dragons! What could beat dragons!?” Rohir says in disbelief, eyes wide in shock. Visenya turns to him, the smirk on her face turning into a knowing look that has Rohir ducking away from her gaze. She chuckles, a soft sound that is carried away by the sudden roar of the fire.

“They did, but dragons couldn’t save them from the natural disasters that tore through the city. Fire, ash, and smoke filled the air, managing to kill even the dragons.”

“So they all died?” Elana asks with a quiet and sad tone, a strong lisp following every vowel.

“All except House Targaryen, who because of Daenys’ dream went west to Dragonstone, an island far enough away from Valyria to escape the desolation,” Visenya says.

“What’s dissolution?” Vyron asks. Elana turns her head to look at him.

“I think it means the end,” Elana says.

“No, it means death. There was lots of death!” Rohir says, turning to face his siblings. Vyron just nods, whilst Elana cocks her head to the side, brows furrowing in thought.

“It’s when something is damaged beyond repair,” Amaria says. “Their homeland was destroyed, just as many homes to the elves have been.”

Visenya looks at Amaria, who meets her gaze. There’s a sadness in her eyes that Visenya didn’t notice before, but it’s familiar. It’s the same look she saw in Filavandrel’s eyes, and any other elf she met that day.

“But they brought dragons with them, right? The dragons weren’t all dead, right?” Rohir asks, breaking Visenya from her mild trance. Before she can answer him, Elana whips her head in his direction, a look of exasperation on her face.

“Of course! They were the best with dragons!” Elana exclaims.

“I was just asking!” Rohir yells back, straightening his posture and face contorting into a petulant expression.

“Well, why are you asking stupid questions?” Elana responds, turning away from Rohir to face Visenya and rolling her eyes. Visenya’s hand shoots up to her mouth, attempting to cover the grin on her face. It manages to muffle the small laughter that escapes her mouth, the noise escaping the notice of everyone except Geralt and Amaria - who looks at Visenya with exasperation in her eyes.

“There is no need for arguing,” Visenya says, looking pointedly at Elana with a single eyebrow raised. She at least has the decency to look sheepish, scrunching her nose and looking down at the ground.

“Sorry,” she mutters at the same time as Rohir.

“You are forgiven, shall we get back to the story?” Visenya asks, a slight smirk on her lips. Elana looks up at her through her lashes, nodding her head.

“Good. They did bring dragons with them - five to be exact. While the names of four have been lost to the ages, one name is known to everyone who knows of House Targaryen; Balerion the Black Dread. He was a massive dragon, who when he grew to full size, could black out entire towns as he passed over them, his wings large enough to cover the sun.” Visenya says. The children make various sounds of wonder, eyes wide and unblinking.

“What did they do next?” Rohir asks.

Visenya pauses, cocking her head slightly as she tries to recall. Her only source of knowledge concerning her family is an old book that had been buried in the depths of the library in Winterfell that was tattered and torn from continuous use by the time she marched off to war. It was vague at best, not offering any new or rare information about her house, therefore the time in between The Doom and Aegon’s conquest is blank.

“Well, House Targaryen made a home at Dragonstone, away from the war that ensued twelve years later when Valyria was destroyed. Nothing of note happened until roughly a hundred years later,” Visenya says.

“Well, what happened!?” Rohir exclaims.

“That would be a story for another day. I believe it is getting too late to begin another - much longer - tale,” Visenya says, glancing at Amaria. She stands from the ground, Vyron still firmly attached to her. She reaches a hand towards Elana, who groans, but takes her mother’s hand, getting off of Visenya’s lap. Rohir doesn’t voice his displeasure, opting to silently stand and move to stand beside his mother, but it’s clear on his face. His eyes aren’t as bright as they were when he was enraptured by Visenya’s story and his lips are pulled into a small pout.

“Visenya is right, it’s getting late and we have a long day of travel ahead of us. Let us give our saviors some quiet,” Amaria says, turning her gaze to Visenya and Geralt for a brief moment before herding her children to the other side of the clearing. “Now say goodnight.”

Three ‘goodnights’ resound all at once, in various tones and noise levels; Vyron gifting Visenya with a particularly toothy grin.

She smiles, unable to force away the action nor the laughter that escapes her mouth.

“Goodnight. I promise to tell you another tale tomorrow while we’re traveling,” Visenya says, earning a blinding grin from Elana and causing Rohir to immediately perk up.

“You promise?” Rohir says.

“Swear it on my life,” Visenya responds without missing a beat. He nods his head, turning and rushing across the clearing, eager to sleep the rest of the night away. Elana tears after him - yelling about racing him there. Vyron squirms in Amaria’s arms, the grin still on his face, but Amaria maintains her tight grip on him.

“To bed we go, Dilthen er,” Amaria says to Vyron and places a kiss on his cheek. She turns to give Visenya and Geralt, giving them one last warm smile before she turns to follow after her children. They all gather in one section close to the fire and near the sleeping body of Aldon. For a few moments restless chatter and light giggles come from the children as Amaria attempts to lull them to sleep with a soft lullaby. Eventually, the noise dies down as one by one they all fall asleep, leaving only Geralt and Visenya awake.

“An interesting tale,” Geralt says, after a moment of silence - once the children have all fallen asleep, Amaria shortly follows suit, leaving only Visenya and Geralt awake. Crickets chirp all around them, the low rustle of wind disturbing their melody occasionally.

“I thought so too,” Visenya says, bones cracking as she stretches her body out. She wraps her arms around the tree behind her as she reaches her arms behind her, slumping against the tree a moment later. She continues watching the fire as the flames that used to rise towards the night sky die out.

“Is it real?” Geralt asks. He’s looking at her, she always knows when he is. Something about the way his gold eyes linger on her is so distinct that she'll always know when a gaze is him, even if it seems impossible to know such a trivial thing. Nothing about a person’s gaze leaves any physical sensory that can be identified, and yet, never once has she been wrong about Geralt’s gaze.

“Supposedly. Although, I’m sure some details have been lost to the ages - some purposeful and some not. Books aren’t always incredibly accurate, stories are often skewed to the favor of the author,” Visenya says. She turns away from the fire to look at Geralt, locking eyes.

“Details you knew perfectly,” Geralt says. His tone isn’t accusatory, but she can hear the underlying question in his statement.

“When I was a little girl I had a book that I would read every day. It was the only comfort I had most days. That story was one of the many tales within the book,” Visenya says, a smile that can only be described as melancholic on her face. Geralt grunts, continuing to watch Visenya, but not saying anything further. His eyes are curious, hoping she’ll continue and say something that makes her less of a mystery. Yet he’s also not willing to press her for information she doesn’t want to share. That much they have in common: two people with too many secrets that are wrapped behind scars that they cover up with fury and rage. Because it’s easier to lose people if they were never allowed close to her to begin with. Life is safer when she keeps everyone at arm's length.

Visenya stares up at the night sky, watching the stars as the ambient sounds of soft snores and dream laced giggles resonate through the clearing. She swallows thickly, a lump beginning to form in her throat as her mind wanders farther and farther away.

“They were my ancestors,” Visenya says, shattering the silent air around them. Geralt doesn't move, doesn’t even breathe in fear that it might disrupt the trace that Visenya is in.

“House Targaryen, the Dragon Riders from Valyria that conquered the Seven Kingdoms.” She chuckles after the words leave her mouth, brows furrowing ever so slightly as her eyes briefly meet the dirt before returning to the stars.

“An impressive ancestry,” Geralt says, his gravelly tone unsure, the words fumbling nearly awkwardly out of his mouth.

“Yeah I suppose so,” Visenya says, voice sounding a million miles away as if she isn’t even physically only a few inches apart from Geralt.

“Better than my lineage, anyways,” Geralt continues, looking away from Visenya. He adjusts his body, resting against the tree more comfortably as his eyes scan the dark forest around them, wary of any threats that may linger just out of eyesight. Visenya’s lips curl into a bare smile, he whispers of a chuckle leaving her mouth as she languidly leans against the tree.

“The dragons were the most impressive part,” Visenya says, eyes fluttering shut, the hectic day finally catching up to her as her body grows wearier the quieter their camp grows.

“Maybe we should find you a dragon,” Geralt says, a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes. Visenya snorts, opening a single eye to look at Geralt.

“This world couldn’t handle me with a dragon, Geralt of Rivia,” she says, shutting her eyes.

“That may be so, but I’d still pay good coin to see it.”

She laughs again, cautious to not be too loud in fear of waking up the camp. She opens her eyes, turning her head to face Geralt, meeting his gaze head-on. Their eyes lock, the beat of her heart steadily increasing the longer they maintain contact. A fluttering sensation fills her stomach, one that she’s almost entirely unfamiliar with. The tired smile on her face softens as Geralt’s lips curl into a similar grin.

“But could you imagine having a dragon,” Visenya says. “To ride on the back of one and feel the wind against your skin and to just...be free.” Her voice is far away again, as she dreams of fantasies she stopped having at some point between childhood and having to become an adult.

“Hmm, I imagine it’d be cold,” Geralt says, a teasing undertone in his otherwise deadpan voice. Visenya reaches out, pushing against his shoulder as another round of quiet laughter leaves her mouth.

“That is what warmer clothes are for,” she responds. “It would be foolish to climb onto a dragon unprepared anyways, lest you become its dinner.”

Geralt laughs, a quiet gravelly noise that nearly causes the ground around them to vibrate and it’s so contagious she can’t stop the bubbling of laughter that also leaves her mouth. Eyes shining and grin getting larger, Visenya watches Geralt's normally harsh and austere face grow softer the longer he laughs. He nearly looks like a child, despite the scars across his face - both fresh and faded - and the deep-set bags under his eyes from the lack of a good night’s rest. His voice is hoarser than usual, sleep and exhaustion weighing down his words causing them to slur together. But the way his eyes are alight and the sweet grin that tugs at the corner of his lips are adorable - a word not often associated with a man like Geralt, but Visenya wouldn’t describe him any other way.

“Stop, it was not even that funny,” Visenya says, and despite her attempt at sternness, laughter follows every word.

“I’m not laughing,” Geralt insists, and despite his best efforts at swallowing it, a small grin still rests on his face.

“Yes you are,” Visenya says.

“I think you’re hearing things, Vis. Perhaps it’s time for you to sleep,” Geralt says, moving his eyes to scan the camp. Her laughter immediately dies down as the smile on her face dims just the slightest, but Geralt seems unaware of the sudden shift in tone.

“What did you just say?” Her words are a whisper, nearly unheard by Geralt. He turns to look at her, the light grin on his face disappearing once he notices her expression.

“That you should rest,” Geralt answers.

“I heard, but what did you just call me?” Visenya says.

He pauses, eyes scanning the entirety of her face, focusing on the unreadable glint in her eyes and taking special note of the slight frown on her lips. But she doesn’t appear angry or sad or any of the other flurry of emotions he’s seen on her face in their travels.

“I called you Vis,” Geralt says after a moment of silence.

“Why?”

“Because Vis is shorter than Visenya,” Geralt says. “Should I not call you that?”

She inhales, quietly, eyes moving towards the dirt. It’s the nickname she’s had all her life. Robb, Jon, and everyone else always called her Vis. It was shorter and easier, they’d always tell her. She’d always argue her name isn’t even difficult to say, but they’d never agree and she’d never say how much she secretly enjoyed the name. It’s been so long since she’s ever heard anyone utter the nickname, it’s startling to hear it slip from someone's lips so effortlessly.

Then she exhales, an unknown weight lifting from her chest as she meets Geralt's gaze.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard that nickname. I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” she says, lips curling into a shy smile. A small sparkle appears in her eyes. It’s not the fiery gold eerily similar to burning flames that sparks when she’s furious or the sly mischievous glint he’s familiar with. Nor is it a glassy look from tears that she’s trying her best to hold back when she’s drowning in sorrowful thoughts. It’s bright, but not painfully so. Instead it’s sweet and soft, like the first flower blossoming on the first day of spring or the soft wind after a harsh winter.

Geralt nods, his stiff features relaxing as the stress of inadvertently offending her dissipates.

“Now I have to think of a nickname for you,” Visenya says, a teasing smile slipping onto her face. Geralt groans and rolls his eyes, flashbacks of all of Jaskier's attempts at creating nicknames to call Geralt. Much to his chagrin, the White Wolf seemed to stick as his title that the general public knew him as, but Jaskier was determined for another one to call Geralt. And Visenya knows this, as she was there for every failed attempt.

“Please don’t,” he says, only causing Visenya to laugh harder. She quickly rests a hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress the noise so as to not wake up the camp. But every time she glances at Geralt and sees how truly exasperated he appears.

“What about Ger. We’d be a pair: Ger and Vis; Vis and Ger,” Visenya says. “I should be a poet, did you hear that little rhyme I did?”

“Hmm, you’d give Jaskier a run for his coin,” Geralt responds.

She snorts a small smirk on her lips. Her thoughts wander to Jaskier, wondering what he could be up to and if he is still happy. He probably is, he could find fun in the dullest of affairs.

“As much as I hate to admit it, but I miss Jaskier,” Visenya says. This time it’s Geralt that snorts, an exasperated look crossing his face as he rolls his eyes.

“I can’t say I feel the same.”

“Don’t lie, Geralt. We all know he’s wiggled his way into your good graces, it’s just what he does. You’re annoyed and want nothing more than for him to leave and then one day, you enjoy the constant jokes and mindless prattling,” Visenya says. Geralt hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

She adjusts her body, attempting to get into a more comfortable position, eyes growing heavier as each second passes. The cool wind is soothing against her warm skin, the crickets a lullaby that pulls her closer to sleep.

“What about your ancestry? What family does The White Wolf come from,”

Silence washes over them. And just when Visenya thinks Geralt won’t answer, he does.

“My mother was a sorceress, that’s all I know about my family. She left me with the Witchers when I was young.” His voice is somber and low, quieter than the volume they’d been talking with earlier.

“Do you miss her?” Visenya asks. She’s cautious and careful, taking special care to not push Geralt. Once again she’s met with silence and after a few moments, it becomes obvious he’s not going to answer.

“I miss my mother. I can’t really remember her, but I have this… this void that her death left behind,” Visenya says. She sighs, glancing up towards the stars once again, using the wind to dry the tears forming in her eyes. “And it never goes away, no matter how hard I try to pretend it isn’t there.”

Her breathing stutters and she huffs out a weak chuckle, attempting to cover the slip up of emotional vulnerability.

"I’m not sure how to feel. A part of me resents her for giving me to the Witchers, allowing them to turn me into a mutant,” Geralt says. She looks at him, wide eyes watching him. He doesn’t look at her, opting to stare at the dying fire.

“Sometimes I hate my father, it’s easier to blame him for everything that happened to my family because of his selfish decision. But I can’t bring myself to fully hate him, and I hate myself for feeling so indecisive about him,” she says.

It’s silent again, the air more uncomfortable than moments ago.

Not allowing herself to think on it too much, she begins to move her body, shuffling to sit closer to Geralt, only stopping when their legs are touching. Tentatively, she lowers her head to rest on his shoulder, hand intertwining with his. Neither of them say a word, and the awkward tension dissipates. Geralt’s stiff body relaxes, resting his head on top of Visenya’s.

"I wouldn't mind having children someday, to live a simple life and retire from adventuring," Visenya says. 

Geralt hums in response, drowsiness coating the simple response causing Visenya's lips to turn upwards and her cheeks to glow.

They stay that way, silent and content with the comfort of each other. Eventually, sleep begins to once again pull on Visenya, and she doesn’t resist.

“Goodnight Vis.”

“Goodnight Geralt.”

o0o

Elvish Translation:

- En'ca minne: Little Love

- Dilthen er: Little One

o0o

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[7wanderingpaws]

Always, yours (4)

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings: language

tags: @geniusloey​ (let me know if you want to be added!)

Masterlist / story masterlist

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Baekhyun blinked a couple of times, not taking notice of the baby cries gradually ceasing to quiet whimpers in the background.

“How can I help you?” he asked the stranger but before he could properly look into the stranger's eye, he saw the distraction in them. Baekhyun frowned, looking back over his shoulder to see you peeking out of the babies' room.

“I'm Lee Junho,” said your trainer, watching as Baekhyun turned back to face him. “I came to see your wife.”

“In what matter?” asked Baekhyun, confused and a little perplexed as to why was someone like him looking for you?

“She forgot-”

“Oh! Junho!” you came rushing down the corridor, holding the baby's head securely in your hold as you went to stand next to your husband, his arm somehow sneaking around your waist once you stood next to him. “What are you doing here?” you asked a little breathlessly, unsure about what to make of his sudden appearance at your house. You were very taken aback and a little worried. He was quite nosy, so him coming to your place didn't sit well with you. And now he was back at your door?

Baekhyun's arm unconsciously tightened around you, ignoring the baby in your arms completely, his hawk eye set on the strange man that you seemed to know and be even friendly with.

“You forgot your sweater at the gym on Thursday,” he told you and handed you a pretty gift bag, waiting for you to take it.

You frowned. “But I didn't-” you blinked a few times, trying to remember what was happening on Thursday besides you being an irresponsible mother. “I didn't change my clothes,” you murmured eventually, heat creeping up into your cheeks as you took the bag and had Baekhyun hold it. He took it with his free hand and let you peek inside, checking the piece.

When you still didn't recognize the clothing, you started to think you must have gone crazy. Maybe it was Baekhyun's shirt that you didn't recognize? How could you not, you were the laundry fairy in the house; you even knew each stain of every clothing in the household.

“Do you feel better?” asked you Junho, not waiting for your confirmation about the sweater. “You must have gone through a hard time on Thursday.”

You looked back at him, forgetting the sweater completely. “Eh, yeah, I was just fine,” you replied, absent-mindedly.

“Thank you for helping out my wife,” Baekhyun spoke up out of nowhere, probably observing the situation and putting two and two together. Junho was your trainer. 

Junho dragged his eyes back to Baekhyun, meeting his gaze rather intensely. “Well, she was very shaken up. I couldn't leave a beautiful woman by herself, could I?”

Your heart started to beat louder at the tone of Junho's voice and at the choice of his words. The way he said the word beautiful and let his gaze graze you for a second before returning it back to Baekhyun's stiff posture… He was thinking about you being beautiful the whole time? He seemed like he was challenging Baekhyun into an invisible fight and that was quite the surprise. In a way, it was also quite the challenge since Junho knew you were married, yet he dared to talk to your husband like that.

“Ah, it was alright-”

“Well, she was not alone,” rebutted Baekhyun, still calm. If he was angered by Junho's words, he didn't let it show, but it certainly did not sit well with him; the way he called you beautiful as if you were any woman. “She was with her good friend who would have taken great care of her.”

“I find it hard to believe; father not being present with the mother that has to take care of three kids.”

“Junho,” you spoke up in warning and, Baekhyun once again tightened his arm around you. You didn't understand what had gotten into the male.

“And your business into our family?” growled Baekhyun, slowly getting agitated. “I'm seeing you for the first time and I don't like you coming to our apartment just to bring a sweater that doesn't even belong to my wife,” he snapped angrily. “Whatever excuse it was that you needed for you to come here.”

“It isn't any of my business. But she is young and home alone for most of the days, and having to take care of all the matters by herself is difficult. You should take better responsibility and make sure she is fine.”

“Junho, what the hell?” you managed to snap as well, not liking how him and Baekhyun were talking as if you weren't present. Junhee was in her blissful obliviousness, her head in your breasts, magically always finding them.

“You're not the one I will tell how hard I try to make it all work,” said Baekhyun sharply and you were slowly getting a bad feeling about this. Goodness, don't let these two start a fight over a complete misunderstanding?

“Don't be ridiculous,” you told Junho, “all is fine. I don't need you to watch out for me nor my family.”

“I'm sorry, it was just so sad to see the empty apartment when we arrived.”

You felt like laughing in disbelief, especially when he pulled the puppy eyes at you. He looked incredibly cute and handsome but you could sense the sternness of his eyes when he shot a look at Baekhyun who went rigid at the word “we”.

“It was okay,” you repeated in a small murmur as you grew uncomfortable in the tense air. Baekhyun's hand left your waist.

“Thanks a lot for your concern,” added Baekhyun. “And thanks for the free sweater I guess.”

Just then, as if all the Gods were standing on your side in that moment, another baby started to cry, bringing the fruitless conversation to a halt.

Feeling Junhee’s mouth on your clothed breast, opening and closing around nothing in particular, you quickly shook your head. “I'll see you another time,” you said, wanting this to be over.

“Remember what you promised?” asked Junho after he nodded in understanding. “I'll wait for your message.” He looked at Baekhyun whose face became a complete rock. He was hard to read and, with anxiety bubbling in your tummy, you tried to rake your brain over the last time you saw him like that.

“Good luck. Take care of your wife or someone else will.” And he turned around, not bothering to go down with the elevator, instead taking the staircase.

You exhaled a small breath of relief, your body deflating before giving Baekhyun's profile a wary glance. “Honey-”

“I'll start preparing lunch,” he muttered to you quietly and he closed the door. Without looking at you, he turned and disappeared in the kitchen, leaving you with Junhee in your arms and a crybaby to take care of.

<3

You were changing Juna's diaper when Baekhyun reappeared in the doorway to the babies' room. The little nursery corner was right by the door, so he just leaned against the doorframe, his hands pushed into the pockets of his joggers as he watched with a frown how your hands worked, not even noticing Juna's smiley eyes looking up at you when you blew a raspberry against her baby tummy.

He spoke your name slowly, bringing your attention to him. At once, you looked up expectantly. The way he was acting a little distant made you somehow disconnected from him and that was something you never wanted to experience. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you breathed, too fast. “I’ll just finish this-” you skillfully fastened the nappy around Juna's tummy before dressing her into a cute one piece. Since you knew Baekhyun wanted to have a serious talk, you put Juna back to her crib, hoping the triplets would be okay without a little attention from the both of you for a bit.

Baekhyun waited for you and then you walked to the living room, ending up on the couch, sitting down; Baekhyun was facing the front while you were sitting sideways, wanting to see him well.

“Tell me what's on your mind,” you requested softly, reaching out to caress his shoulder. You didn't think he would become a little cold but he came to talk to you. So you wanted to listen. 

He looked at you when he felt the touch, his eyes softening when he saw the way you were looking at him. “I know you must be shocked at what Junho said and, trust me, I am too.”

“I don't like him,” he said matter-of-factly. “And, sweetheart, he obviously doesn't consider you just as a customer.”

You pursed your lips. “I've been only twice there.”

“And yet, you managed to blow him off his feet,” he said, somehow teasingly, making you giggle. “Which I don't like,” he added, his small smile diminishing and with it yours too. “What did he mean with the promise?”

You clicked your tongue. “It's nothing.”

He quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at your simple, but non-satisfying answer. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I mean it, Baekhyun,” you shrugged, “I just said I'll contact him once I'm ready to start over.”

“You won't start over. At least not with him and not in his gym.”

“But Sukyeong is going-”

“No,” Baekhyun said strictly, his eyes piercing through you. “I don't want you to go to that gym anymore.”

“Why? Just because he is caring?”

At that, Baekhyun pulled away from you in disbelief as he faced you on the sofa. “Caring? You're joking, right? He likes you.”

“Just because someone calls someone beautiful doesn't mean they have a crush on them,” you rebuked, getting furious quite quickly. You didn't like the way he told you what to do. You didn't like the tone of his voice and neither did you appreciate he could do whatever he wanted just because he was your husband. 

Baekhyun was observing you with a very serious expression, not entertained by your answer. A small storm was visible in his dark, cloudy eyes and you felt like you said something very wrong. Wordlessly, he was taking in your countenance as if calculating you and whatever it was that went through your mind that he couldn't seem to decode. “It's not like that, sweetheart,” he told you finally. “The way he looked at you-- no” he stopped himself, hating even the idea. “You won't be meeting him again. He is a creep!”

“You're jealous,” you stated the very obvious. “You just don't like that someone actually finds me pretty?”

“What?”

You dared to push out your chin. “You heard me. Someone else is interested in me so now you are trying to pull me back to hide me?”

Stunned, Baekhyun let himself rest against the couch, his eyes almost drying out as he wasn’t blinking. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, but I don’t like how you’re acting, Baekhyun! I feel flattered that he thinks of me as someone pretty - after all, look at the way I changed! I’m only twenty-two but I lost my lean body and my hormones are going crazy… you know you don’t have a reason to be jealous but for once someone shows interest and you want to hide me!”

“You’re my wife!” He raised his voice as well, but still kept it in an acceptable tone. You didn’t hear how your words sounded in Baekhyun’s mind who understood them in a completely wrong manner than that of your intention. You were a taken woman, why was another man’s opinion important to you? His words should be the only words you deemed important. “What makes you think I like another man ogling at you? Had I known that kind of a man is teaching you I wouldn’t have let you go! You even found him hot, too - you admitted it,” he added in a menacing tone, his eyes shining with anger.

Baekhyun wasn’t jealous often, that was true. He was a man who could keep it together and mostly, if he caught another guy staring at you, he’d feel pride because you were always his. Ever since you entered womanhood you were his. But now, the way your trainer just pushed himself into your private life and knew too much, he didn’t like it one bit.

“I was trying to tease you!” You snapped loudly. “Because you’re so busy with working that I just wanted some attention from you! I only ever want your eyes on me, not another man’s!” You inhaled, feeling your eyes burning up. “And yes, it feels nice to be appreciated by someone else. You have women staring at you whenever we as much as go grocery shopping and it makes me feel so stupid. You’re dressing up to impress your students, Baekhyun, and if you think all your lady students are innocently looking at you, you’re wrong. And I trusted you with Jiyoung-“

“I never gave you a reason to doubt me with Jiyoung,” growled Baekhyun through gritted teeth but you didn’t cower. You had a lot to say out of nowhere.

“I don’t care. You were busy with her enough. I met Junho twice and he got overly attached. That isn’t my fault and you shouldn’t be punishing me for that!”

“I’m not punishing you, I’m worried about you,” he emphasized, growing frustrated at your attitude. “You were very fast to jump to ridiculous conclusions when you first saw Jiyoung yet I never said anything to attack you! And I don’t care what my students think about me! One thing is to have a crush, another is to actually talk with someone who likes you and even make stupid promises to them and giving them false hopes!”

“I didn’t promise him anything, Baekhyun, I just said-“

“-that you’ll see him soon!” he shouted, now fully angry. 

“You wouldn’t be like this if you trusted me!”

“We ended up at a fucking hospital because you were so fucking jealous of me having a female colleague! Talk about trust now, huh?!”

That one hit you. His sharp words, that were specifically crafted against you, hurt you. Surely, he didn’t mean it but he said it and he used your weak pregnancy state against you in an inappropriate manner.

“Right. And I suffered through eight months of painful pregnancy because I fucked myself, right?!” you spit and stood up, storming away from him.

“Come back here, young lady! Right now!” You heard Baekhyun stand up as well, his hands on his hips as he saw your retreating figure. You rarely swore, so he understood the situation was bad.

But you didn’t listen. Without realizing, you ran into your shared bedroom and started stripping, wanting to get out of the house. You were infuriated at the argument when you already told him everything before Junho’s unexpected visit. He wasn’t supposed to be getting mad about something out of your control.

Quickly putting on a light summer dress, you tied your hair up and headed out with your small purse and wallet.

Baekhyun saw you pass him, headed for the door and he followed you right away. “Where are you going?! It’s hot outside and I’m not done talking to you!”

“I’m done talking to you!” you seethed as you put on your sandals. “You take care of the babies. It wasn’t because of them I ended up in the hospital, so you shouldn’t be mad at them for giving me a hard time. Blame the friggin jealousy or whatever!”

With that you turned, opening the door. You heard Baekhyun’s exasperated exhale before the door slammed shut.

</3

You went for a short walk before the heat, combined with suffocating humidity, chased you into a cafe, seeking refuge in their air-conditioned, cozy space. You weren’t drinking coffee for obvious reasons but you needed a little kick and iced americano was the cheapest option for your wallet. With a defeated, heavy sigh, you ordered the coffee, pleasantly surprised when the kind bartender gave you a small cookie as a gift to your beverage. You must have looked like death if someone a little younger than you could recognize your emotions mirroring on your face.

You thought Baekhyun would be bombarding you with messages like he started to do since the birth of the munchkins but he wasn’t. He was overly worried about your whereabouts when you were with the triplets. Maybe now he was trying to give you space like you indirectly asked for.

At least you could think over what happened. You still felt hurt and, frankly, you were still ignited with passion about him being jealous. He didn’t like someone else telling you you were pretty. You could understand, of course you could. But him wanting to prevent you from going back to the gym was just annoying.

Your whole life Baekhyun was the only one you had eyes for. He was fast to try to pursue you; it was a mutual crush, a mutual attraction later on. You never got to experience other boys or men, you never even had a kiss with someone else. Baekhyun had you completely to himself since you were an old enough of a teenager and, honestly, he didn’t have to fight for you. It wasn’t like you had competition going on around you. There were a lot of crazy moments but he knew he could get you, and he did. So now, when someone else showed interest, it was a little foreign to you and to him, too. That was the point you didn’t like. He wasn’t used to having to fight for you. He wasn’t used to having to prove himself to you because you were that simple of a girl and now a woman. Baekhyun was Baekhyun and that was an argument no other boy could ever win over. Ever.

Suddenly, you felt like crying. Baekhyun was taking you for granted. Maybe you were too comfortable too and didn’t realize how easily your life could change if he weren’t by your side. But you still burned with anger when he wouldn’t trust you and would want to hide you, tuck away from curious eyes because you tried to get back on the normal track after being pregnant and so busy with triplets.

He had it easy, you thought bitterly as you swallowed an equally bitter sip of americano. He still had his too-perfect body. He could still continue his professional life. He was never sacked for being a woman that was soon to be a mother. He was never harassed at work for his gender. And yet, when you finally could taste a bit of life, he’d want to take it away.

You scoffed out loud, unaware of other customers giving you a worried look as you gulped down the coffee. Unfortunately, your little time to think had to come to a quick and very disappointing end. The pressure was there for a while now and you were irresponsible enough to ignore it but you definitely couldn’t afford that anymore. Wetness was slowly making its way in your bra, the textile too thin and therefore quickly leaking to your summer dress. Soon enough, it would start dripping.

Unhappily groaning to yourself, you quickly went to the bathroom, unable to make a dash for your home because you walked quite off your neighbourhood. You’d need at least ten minutes and when the breast milk was leaking, we were talking about seconds.

Following the typical process, you yanked down your shirt along with your bra, letting the strong stream spring free, painting the surroundings white. With a scrunched up face, you could only look and wait.

</3

You came home more than two hours later. Tears staining your cheeks, you were exhausted and tired. An old lady shouted at you for keeping the toilet busy and then you had to ask for help from the staff, hoping they would borrow you a shirt to cover up until you got home, your dress completely ruined. This Saturday sucked in every possible way. And now you had to face Baekhyun. You already decided you would ignore him but you were also dreading the duty of tending to your little ones. You really couldn’t do it. Not in that moment, and not in that emotional state.

The apartment was quiet and the blinders were let down half-way to block out the strong summer sun heating up the place. You peeked in the babies’ room, just to find it empty. Sighing, your nose prickled again and you locked yourself up in the guest bathroom, desperately needing a shower. Baekhyun must have taken the kids out, you thought.

Scrubbing your skin clean, you were only satisfied when the shampoo would completely take over your senses. With tears rolling down your cheeks, you did small massaging circles into the stretch marks painting your breasts, tummy, backside, and thighs. Maybe if you tried hard enough, they’d disappear. You tried hard enough during pregnancy.

Finally, you turned the water off and brought a clean towel around your body, feeling a little better. Your eyes were swollen, that couldn’t have been helped.

You trudged around the apartment, finding everything motionless and quiet until you looked into the bedroom, finally spotting your precious family on the bed, each of them peacefully sleeping. Baekhyun had his back to the door and he made a little barrier around the babies so if they wanted to explore some new body movements they wouldn’t fall.

You didn’t know how he managed it when you felt like everything was a mess when you were with them alone. You left for more than two hours and he seemed like he barely broke a sweat.

You contemplated your next moves; should you wake him? You needed a change of clothes anyway.

Tiptoeing inside, you went to the walk-in closet, finding a clean, nursing shirt before you slid into it and left the small space. Baekhyun was fast to turn his head, his eyes looking wide-awake as if he never slept in the first place.

He saw your puffy cheeks and swollen eyes and it tugged on his heart. “Sweetheart,” he whispered almost inaudibly, reaching his hand out to you.

You were looking at him and at his outstretched hand, the ring on it shining.

I’m sorry, you wanted to say. Let’s not fight, you wanted to add. But his hurtful words came back to you, and you realized that it really wasn’t your place to apologize. It wasn’t your place to apologize about failing as a mother, either. It was only natural that you made mistakes. It was situations like those that made you realize quite a difficult reality: nobody knew what they were doing as parents. Your own parents never knew what they were doing. Baekhyun’s parents never knew what they were doing; something went right and something went wrong. You were allowed to make mistakes; as long as you learned from them.

Baekhyun saw your troubled eyes and he slowly sat up, eventually moving to stand in front of you. “I’m sorry,” he breathed quietly, his eyebrows scrunching up in worry when you kept staring at him, wordlessly.

You licked your dry lips, averting your gaze. “Let’s talk outside,” you murmured and walked over to the door. You quickly checked whether the babies were still sleeping and whether the barrier was strong enough and you left, not waiting for Baekhyun who grabbed the baby monitor.

Taking a glass, you filled it with water, needing the liquid in your parched mouth. Anxiety was eating you up and you were exhausted. You hoped Baekhyun would say the right words, for you couldn’t bear another fight.

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he reappeared, going straight to you. He held your waist gently while his free hand put the monitor down on the counter. He was quick to hold you with his other hand as well. “I was mad. I am still mad,” he said, desperately searching your gaze. “I’m not sorry for being jealous because I can’t bear the idea of another man looking at you the way he did and the way only I am allowed to look. But I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you and I’m sorry for making you feel like a caged woman and mother. It shouldn’t be like that and I told you several times that I’d never want you to become one but-“ he sighed, shaking his head gently as he looked on the floor before bringing his eyes back up to yours, “I unconsciously made it like that and I feel guilty.”

If you were an anime character, huge, diamond-like tears would be brimming your eyes, making you look incredibly cute but also incredibly heart-broken. Baekhyun apologized and admitted to his wrong doings and it made you relieved.

“Baby, say something,” he urged you breathily and brought his hand up to your cheeks. You were wordlessly staring at him with bulging eyes and he was growing anxious with each second.

“Please don’t talk like that anymore,” you finally whispered after trying to control the lump in your throat. “You know I tried my best while being pregnant and that one time-“

“Shh, shh, no, don’t talk about it,” he said quietly with urgency in his voice. He shook his head as he spoke. “That was the stupidest shit I’ve ever said and I’m sorry. Completely uncalled for… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes close.

You breathed out and finally let your hands rest on his sides, feeling his ribs underneath. Following him, you closed your eyes as well. “It hurt.”

“I know,” he whispered as he nuzzled his nose against yours, eyes still closed. “I’m such a fucking dumbass. You suffered so much because of me; I made you pregnant and I made you go through hell and… Shit, I’m sorry.” When he talked like that, with his breath on your lips and the tip of his nose brushing against yours, you couldn’t help but melt, gradually forgetting every bad and unexpected thing that happened. Instead, you breathed in his gentle scent and enjoyed his close proximity. His thumbs brushed under your eyes and just then you realized the tears were rolling down your cheeks and his hands. “Jesus, if I make you cry any more I swear I’ll never forgive myself,” murmured Baekhyun against your lips and you opened your eyes just to find him staring intently at you, his eyes scrunched in worry, much more puppy-like then they usually were. He slid his hand over your cheek and ear until he rested it on the back of your head, bringing you into a sensual hug. He was fast to hide his face in the crook of your neck and you pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

You stood like that for a few minutes, until Baekhyun was sure you calmed down. “Thank you for giving me space.”

“Of course. Just don’t leave like that next time,” he muttered in your ear. “I was worried and it’s hot outside and-“ he was fast to pull away from you, holding you by your upper arms. “What about your breast milk? You didn’t even pump…” he trailed off when he saw how your face fell. Shaking your head, you were hoping it would tell him just enough, the memory of the elderly lady scolding you bringing a fresh set of tears into your eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed with pity, once again embracing you, this time more tightly, wanting to console you. Baekhyun knew how sensitive you could get. It must have been an unpleasant situation. “You go through so much shit and yet I only make it worse.”

“No!” This time, you pulled away. “It isn’t like that Baekhyun. You’re a new professor, it’s not like you can do as you please. And,” you shrugged, “I’m glad you care enough to be jealous.”

“What kind of expression is that?” Baekhyun looked puzzled as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, eventually brushing your hair behind your ear while you shrugged again. “I always care. If it’s you, I’m always interested and I always want to know. I always want to protect you. Junho is a guy and I know how guys are, baby.”

“I just… don’t want you to take me for granted.”

Baekhyun gasped, horrified, somehow making him look surprised. “No, no, I would never-“ he stopped himself, hurt and guilt flashing in his eyes. “Have I made you feel that way?”

“No, but…”

“But?”

With a sigh, you shook your head. “It’s not important. Actually it’s stupid. Forget that I said it.”

“No, explain-“

Baby whimpers interrupted your discussion and, for some reason, you felt relieved. With a small smile, you stepped back from him. “Not important.”

“Sweetheart,” his arms chased after you and he grabbed you just in time before you could completely walk out of his personal space. The whimpers were gradually increasing and changing into dissatisfied cries. Baekhyun didn’t care though and he brought you back to him, pecking you on the lips. “I want to finish this talk later.” His hand sneaked around your lower back, his hand sliding over your bum, unintentionally bringing fire into your insides.

“Okay,” you whispered bewitched as you watched his parted lips.

He hummed and kissed you longer, his hand caressing your bum cheek. With a smooch, he separated. “Okay.”

<3

As usual, the both of you got preoccupied with the daily tasks. You spend hours breastfeeding while Baekhyun prepared food for the both of you, not having enough time to chat like he really wanted to.

He was mad about the way you felt and he was mad about himself. What did he do that wrong that you had such thoughts? If Junho and his liking towards you made you feel that way…

He shook his head as he was checking his phone, not really processing what he was looking at; an important email that needed his immediate tending, yet he couldn't bring himself to focus. When you appeared from the bathroom, only in a shirt, he let his eyes roam over your body, and then up to your messy hair and tired, but still beautiful face.

It was simple moments like these when he just craved you. He tried to suppress it, but the happenings of the day had him thinking a little differently and he was going crazy at the idea of Junho even thinking he had a chance with you. Of course he didn’t. You were married, for Christ’s sake. You were his, completely.

You slipped under the covers, sighing a little, satisfied. The temperature of the room was just perfect to have the shirt on and still be warm enough under the sheets. With eyes wide open you turned on your side, facing Baekhyun like an eager kitty. Baekhyun, sensing your intense stare, looked at you, the phone screen now dark from the inactivity and he smiled handsomely.

“Come cuddle,” you requested, inching your hand to his thigh under the covers. “Let’s enjoy the small peace.”

Baekhyun didn’t have to be told twice especially because it was coming from you. He put his phone on the bedside table and turned off the light, quickly turning to you.

You scooted over a bit too fast, just as Baekhyun was about to rest his head on the pillow; your lips brushed and you gasped, giggling.

“Just say you want a kiss,” murmured Baekhyun with a teasing tone, his own hand now resting on your hip. “I’d give you one anyway,” he added and dipped his head, pecking you repeatedly a few times. He grinned when he heard your silent squeal but you reciprocated each of his loving kisses. “Mmm, my baby.” His hand tightened as it inched further up, sensually caressing your ribs and the side of your breast, bunching up your shirt in the process. It had your breath hitch in your throat and desire grew in your tummy at once. Ever since you made up in the kitchen and his simple caress on your backside ignited passion in you, you couldn’t stop thinking about the moment you could share a little love with him. You couldn't get him out of your mind. Not while breastfeeding and watching him cook with his wide back turned towards you, not while washing the munchkins in the bathroom, both of you wet but smiley, and not now, when he was there, right next to you.

“Baekhyun,” you breathed, affected already. His hum made the hair on your neck stand. Your hand was on his cheek as your lips brushed against his. “Make love to me tonight.”

His caressing stopped only for a heartbeat before it resumed, not showing the way your gently uttered words affected him. “Hm, baby, if I do, I will be rough.” He rasped in a low voice. “I just don’t think I can control myself tonight, angel. Not after what happened.”

At that, your palms became sweaty and you eagerly scooted even closer, wanting to press your middle to his. “Then show me what you have in mind.”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/N: sorry, Im cutting it here because the next chapter will have mature content and I want to separate it from the chapters that have development so that those of you who are uncomfortable with M wont miss out :S hope thats okay! Also, if you read Mess We Made and see some similarities - there are. After all, Mess We Made is a super angsty au of Simply Yours. ^^

Lastly, the angst is far from over lol. There angsty days are coming. ^^ and the last “lastly��, Always Yours will have most probably more chapters than I intended. Depends on how much Ill manage to write and squeeze into chapters during my semester. Thank you ^^

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Once I’m gone

Rating: M(ature) Warnings: major character death Category: F/M (main couple), Multi (side characters) Fandom: Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin Relationship: Mikasa Ackermann / Eren Jaeger | various side couples Characters: Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackermann, Armin Arlelt, Zeke Jaeger, Hange Zoe, Floch Forster, Ymir, Reiner Braun, Pieck Finger, Historia Reiss, several others will make a cameo Additional Tags: Modern AU | established relationship | toxic behaviour | Eren suffers from Huntington’s disease and tries to settle his matters before he dies | suicial blockhead Eren | aged up characters (by ten years) | suicide tw | depression tw | mental diseases tw | deathly diseases tw | this is clearly not write what you know, but I’m giving my very best to representate the topics as good as I can | this all basically came to me as a fever dream | you remember Thirteen from House, M.D.? I still have a huge crush on her so this version of Eren is greatly inspired by her <3 Language: English (not native, I’m trying my best you guys) Stats: ongoing - Chapter 1/15 - Part 3/4 - 956 of 3652 words Summary: Eren Jaeger knew for years that he inherited Huntington’s disease from his late mother. When he first notices symptoms on him, his long protected plan, to end his life before reaching the critical state of his illness,  awakes. But there is still Mikasa, his girlfriend and the only person in the world he cares about more than about himself, and he can’t leave her alone and grieving. It’s time to find a substitute for when Eren is gone. With the help of a new friend Eren tries to scare away Mikasa while driving her into the arms of someone new.

__________________________________________________

Charlatans and Pills - Part 3/4

<<previous

Three days later he was sitting in the office of Dr. Hans Zoe, his neurologist. A tall grandfather clock in the corner on the left behind their desk ticked lively back and forth and showed shortly before half past twelve. Eren always hated this, but his life mostly consisted of charlatans and pills for the last years.

He never had had a regular job, not that he couldn do one, a lot of people that shared his fate had ordinary jobs until their health wouldn’t let them anymore but Eren could never have settled with something as trivial as an office job. Lastly he was working at a gallery where he had insulted a visitor and got knocked out because of it. Since then he’s been without a job and he actually liked it. That way he didn’t need to beg his principal for getting a day off for the third time this month so he could see his doctor. Without long explanations they didn’t understand it anyway. And with long explanations, they usually didn’t want to keep him as an employee.

Dr. Hans looked intently at the healed up cut on his cheek. “You know Eren, I’ve eventurally cut myself while shaving too”, they said dryly.

Eren couldn’t imagine this to be true when their soft, almost feminime face didn’t show any signs of facial hair.

But Dr. Hans’ face turned stern behind their glasses. “It would be very early for you to develop hyperkinesia. On the other hand…” They took off their glasses, slowly circling the side pieces over their hooked nose and pulled them back on. “it’s not unusual for an inherited Huntington's disease to break out earlier than in the previous generation. Your mother didn’t have a genetically inherited variant, she spontaneously developed the mutation before being born and unknowingly inherited on you. Your mother was 38 when she had her first symptoms, that’s a rather average age. But we always knew, it could be starting earlier for you.”

Eren’s face was without expression. He almost had forgotten his appointment with Dr. Hans but when Mikasa reminded him two days ago he was glad and tense at the same time. Dr. Hans was a good neurologist even if they had an eccentric personality and was married to one of Mikasa’s distant cousins. Without Mikasa he would never have met this doctor who was at his side for almost five years by now.

“How are you, overall?”, Dr. Hans asked and thoughtfully folded their hands under their pointly, smooth chin.

Eren shrugged. “How should I be. The countdown has started. I might be the clam in person by now but ten years from now I’ll probably be nothing more than a slobbering piece of trash that’s on a feeding tube and doesn’t remember its family. Guess what, no thank you, I’m really not wanting that. I’d rather steal Mikasa’s riffle and bang a bullet through my skull.”

Dr. Hans’ eyes widened behind their thick glasses. “Eren! What are you talking about? I must not hear things like that in here or I have to -”

The grandfather clock chimed the half hour and swallowed their words.

Dr. Hans sighed desperately. “Eren, I know it’s not easy for you. I can hardly imagine the psychical pressure but think about everyone who’s loving you and who’s by your side. They wouldn’t want you to throw away the rest of your life as easily.”

Eren still looked at them stoically, trying for an answer, that would satisfy them.

But before anything came to his mind, the door to the office opened without further knocking. “You still got a patient, Hansi?”, a chilly, dark voice asked. “It’s half past twelve, we’ve got a table reserved. Hurry up.”

Dr. Hans threw a smile at the intruder. “I’ll be right with you, Levi. It’s Eren, you probably remember him, Mikasa’s boyfriend. Go and have a cup of tea with Moblit, yeah?”

Eren also threw a hasty glance over his shoulder and saw a well below average sized man standing under the door frame.

“They’ll never give us another table, if we’re coming too late for lunch time, but that’s your loss. I hope Moblit finally has learned to pour a good black tea. Say Mikasa hi from me.” Without further looking at Eren or Dr. Hans, Levi let the heavy door fall shut behind him.

“I’m glad to have him”, Dr. Hans sighed and smiled mildly. “I would never get out of here without him.” But with a stern glance towards Eren they turned back into his worrying doctor. “Listen, I won’t give you a prescription against hyperkinesia, that would be way too early. They only hit needlessly hard on your already gloomy personality. You’ll be good and keep taking you antidepressiva and -” They started scribbling on their pad. “I’ll make it your constraint to go see a psychotherapist. At least once, better twice a week. You know where to find appropriate help, I know he offered you to join his group several times already. I’ll make talk therapy a constraint or else I’ll see what you just said is a reason to make you go to a mental hospital until you’re less suicidal!” They ripped a sheet off teir pad and pulled it towards Eren. It was a letter of referral for a psychologist.

Eren took the letter between two fingers, nobody really could read what they’ve scrawled on it. “All right Doctor”, he murmured impatiently. “I’ll go there. But I can see no use in it, I’ve made up my mind a long time ago.”

Dr. Hans swallowed audibly. “Cut the crap, Eren, you still got plenty of time. I hope your brother can put some reasoning back into you.”

                                                                              >>next

__________________________________________________ Author’s note: Welcome back to part three! I almost forgot to upload this for today, we got a surprise visit for my SO’s brother! What a nice surprise (I don’t like surprises heh...). I my version, Hange is a trans man that didn’t start transitioning until way into his twenties or early thrities and their birth name is Zoe Hans, they just swapped it for Hans Zoe when they started transitioning. And yes, they are married to Levi in this <3 Sadly Levi doesn’t play a huge role in this, but we might see him again in the future! Gotta hurry uploading this, see you for part 4!