#it hurt me so much when he died and only now five years later am i ready to remember him

[kazrz]

TEN YEARS TOO LATE ⛥ sirius black

ten years ago, bellatrix lestrange’s child was thrown onto your doorstep without warning. ten years later, you’re not sure if you’re living the life you’d wanted — but you do know that mattheo is your son, and no one else’s. [1.6k words]

TAGS: sirius is harry’s godfather, reader is a single mum to mattheo riddle, hurt/no comfort, angst, lovers to strangers/borderline enemies ngl, voldemort died after the first war, reader and sirius are both meanies

🐦‍⬛ — everyone say hi to my baby mattheo! I wrote this fic smiling and all but best believe I’ll never have a child in the future. too much work.

p.s. this fic is inspired by ‘he looks like his father’ by @/marauder-misprint! that fic changed lives and one of them was mine.

“He’s not your kid.”

You’ve endured many offensive questions about Mattheo’s parentage ever since you took him in. They sent you spiralling downward into the deepest depths of your mind, wondering why everyone needed to have their noses in your business. They made you second guess your parenting skills, doubting how you raised Mattheo and whether he truly is the boy you nurtured him to be.

While you weren’t normally so tongue-tied in these situations, it didn’t help that your old, repulsive Hogwarts fling was standing right before you — closer than he’d ever been in more than a decade — confidently claiming that your son wasn’t yours.

It was a huge, fucking relief that the kid had inherited his biological mother’s shamelessness.

Mattheo pushed past only a few irritated students and parents on his way to you. Sirius’ words were as clear as day to him. They ignited a flame that wasn’t known for its swift ceasing.

“Who are you to be the judge of that?” he gritted out, fingers clinging onto yours by habit. You smiled down at him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “Last I remembered Mum telling me, you ditched her after graduation and never reached out. You have no right to even be speaking to her.”

Your son’s words sizzled a hole into your heart. You hadn’t expected him to remember the measly details about a man who was irrelevant in his life. The last time you’d mentioned Sirius, Mattheo was merely five. He’d asked, “Mama, why don’t I have a dad?”

How could you not answer him?

Eighteen years ago, you would have laughed if someone said you’d be a single mother. Sixteen years ago, you would have laughed, along with Sirius, at the prospect of being parents.

Ten years ago, you held in your distaste for children and took in a three-year-old.

And you wouldn’t let the man who’d left your heart in pieces disregard the hard work you’d put in.

Sirius’ dry laugh left you clenching your teeth, hands itching to curl into fists and punch him square in the face. “Stay out of this, kid,” he snapped, not even bothering to glance at Mattheo.

You sent him a right hook straight to his chiseled jaw, hearing a soft crack sound at the impact.

Silence fell over the courtyard like a thick, suffocating blanket, but not before gasps echoed from every corner of the open space. Sirius held trembling fingers to his left jawbone, lips parted in absolute bewilderment. He stared off into the empty space beside Mattheo.

A few rustles sounded as someone shoved past students clad in their black robes. Harry froze, halting just before he ended up in the middle of the ongoing catfight.

A dazed Remus materialised from behind him, eyes widened as he took in the scene.

“YN,” the lanky man rasped, eyes flitting between you and his best mate. Sirius still had his hand pressed to the side of his insolent-looking face, but now he was glaring you down, brows virtually stitched together. “YN, you’re here.”

Mattheo tugged on your arm and you stepped back, the greater distance between you and your ex clearing the haze from your mind. You tried not to roll your eyes at Remus’ quite apparent observation.

“Yes, I am, Lupin.” The edge in your voice gave way to pure rancour, eyes hardening when Sirius righted himself with a groan. You had half the heart not to utter the next few words. “You’re not the only one with a child.”

By now, the prying eyes of passers-by had redirected somewhere else, no longer interested in your dispute with two of the Marauders.

Remus’ gaze lingered on Mattheo — his dark curls, his defined brows, his nose, the scar that marred his cheek intimidatingly. He looked close to nothing like you, save for his body language, graceful yet sharp, and his clothing choices, casual yet sophisticated.

Even if the kid wasn’t your blood, it was painfully blatant that he was raised by you.

The professor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Riddle’s yours?” The question was stupid, but he was too dumbfounded to think of another one.

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. You relished in seeing him wince at the pain that struck his jaw. Mattheo, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to rip him apart.

“You might wanna stop there, Moony, or she’ll have you puking out your guts,” Sirius sneered, the unfamiliar sound sending a tremble down Harry’s spine. His godfather had never been so agitated before. It might’ve just been your presence that irked him, given the woeful tone Sirius would adopt whenever he shared stories about your relationship back then.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have someone claim your son isn’t really yours, would you? Because Harry isn’t your son. He’s your dead best friend’s son.”

A brief flicker of hurt crossed Sirius’ grey eyes. It tugged at your heartstrings, but you shoved the feeling aside. You had no compassion for him. He’d shattered you — how could you possibly go back to him?

Mattheo turned to you with a plea in his eyes. While he normally would contribute with some snarky comments of his own, he didn’t want you getting into a brawl. Especially when this was the topic at hand.

“Mum,” he tried, voice firm but holding a semblance of vulnerability he’d only ever show around you. “Don’t do this. He’s not worth it.”

At that, Sirius whipped out his wand and jabbed at your chest with the tip. Mattheo almost broke the man’s ribs, but you pushed him aside before he could get caught in the altercation.

The former Gryffindor looked nearly like a rabid dog with the way he snarled and growled, wand tip digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Not worth it? That’s what I was to you? What you told your son I was?” His voice sank deeper than the depths of the ocean. Harry didn’t recognise the man who looked like his godfather.

You gripped his wand tight, nearly snapping it in two if Sirius hadn’t yanked it away harshly. “The moment you abandoned me on my own doorstep, you became a stranger!” you raged, keeping your volume in check before another crowd formed. “When you didn’t call, or even send a bloody letter, I gave up waiting on you. What could I do? Cry all night because you weren’t there to hug me? Trudge around my house blindfolded because everything reminded me of you? I knew better than that. I moved away, and you weren’t there to stop me. So why are you here now, claiming my kid isn’t mine and acting offended that he thinks you’re of no worth to me?”

Mattheo held his breath when you spat the words you’d been holding in for years. He knew you were tenacious and resolute in all your glory, but he’d never witnessed you so livid. He had little to no knowledge of how Sirius had left you so wounded and exposed, though now, your words began assembling the puzzle pieces he’d collected over the years.

He noticed whenever you stopped for a moment, looking longingly at an object that meant nothing to him, but a lot more to you. You would sometimes, subconsciously, style his hair differently when it grew too long. Right now, as he glanced between you and Sirius with his waves, he realised why.

“Seriously, Sirius?” He heard the crack in your voice when your ex didn’t respond. Out of guilt or fury, he didn’t know. “You made your decision, and I have made mine.”

You shoved the dark-haired man off of you, causing him to stumble backwards and lose his footing. Remus darted forwards, barely managing to catch Sirius in his arms, sparing him from the unforgiving impact of the ground. Hushed whispers were exchanged as the latter righted himself, sending you a glare while holding his injured jaw.

It was only after a quiet, indignant huff that you turned to your son and placed benign hands on his shoulders.

Leaning down slightly, you brushed a stray hair away from Mattheo’s forehead, smiling as tenderly as you could. “Are you ready to leave, Theo?” you murmured sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous bite. The sudden shift in tone induced whiplash.

Mattheo flashed a charming grin that reminded Remus of your own. Whatever Sirius had said about the Slytherin boy not being your son was possibly the most erroneous statement ever uttered.

You mirrored his expression, though yours was gentler and didn’t reach your eyes. Your son’s enthusiasm flickered for a moment, but when you stood to your full height and led him away, Mattheo began cheerfully rambling about the recent happenings at Hogwarts and his own escapades.

Sirius couldn’t believe that he’d just seen you for the first time in more than a decade. He especially couldn’t fathom the fact that it had gone terribly.

He shouldn’t have said Mattheo wasn’t your kid. That isn’t something you say to your ex you’ve been thinking about for sixteen years after you ditched her. Now that he’d put it that way, he realised how horribly he had acted towards you and your son.

Your son. It was a foreign term to him, principally when it came to you. The you he’d known in Hogwarts had an unyielding repugnance for children. But, he figured, you were really only averse to the toddlers who didn’t listen. You must have raised Mattheo well.

“That was awful,” Harry quipped, raising an eyebrow at his godfather. Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face and wincing when his jaw decided it was too much.

He sighed, brows stitched together. “I know.” But what did it matter?

Remus patted him on the back. “If you’re lucky, you might see her again,” he reassured his friend, though skepticism snuck between his words.

“If she even wants to see me again.”

Harry had a feeling that you didn’t.

navigation ⛥ sirius black

[ilyrafe]

after seeing so much one direction content these past couple of days, it got me thinking. one direction really was the last boyband to ever happen. no one will ever come close to what they did in only six years. it’s a once in a generation kind of thing to happen. they didn’t even win the x factor and ended up being the show’s biggest act, 14 years later.

yes, they were manufactured, but at the same time, they were the least manufactured band to ever exist in recent times. they didn’t dance, they weren’t actually meant to be a band, they got everything they had because of charisma and talent. these boys were so talented and charismatic. they didn’t really dress the same, they were working class teenagers with a dream and they did it. and it was beautiful.

after seeing their statements, it’s finally downing on me that one direction is really over and i will never see all five of them together again. 11 year old me is absolutely devastated, and so is 24, almost 25 year old me.

the fangirl in me never went anywhere, it turns out. i still have my 1d concert tickets (the only one i went to and zayn was still in the band!), my albums and dvds, books, theater tickets and every once in a while i would take them out of the box and reminisce of the good old days, never thinking i would mourn one of them so soon. i genuinely thought i would be way older when they would go.

i can’t help but feel so sad that liam’s last years were so erratic and horrible. he was hurting deeply and he deeply hurt other people, and there is no excuse for what he did. i mourn what he once was, what he could have been and how it all ended up being. i take maya’s allegations seriously and i encourage you to do the same. what she is going through right now is impossible to imagine.

for those saying they’re glad “an abuser died”, think about what you’re saying. his death helps no one. his victims will never get justice, he will not take accountability for his actions. no one will ever get closure.

for those saying they feel bad for hating or mocking him, you really should. he was called an opportunist for showing up at the boys’ concerts and yet, when harry would do it, everyone loved it.

liam wasn’t perfect, he fucked up a lot, but like anyone, he had the right to, at the very least, apologize. 31 is too young, and no one deserves to go like this.

all i think about is his little son, who will grow up without his dad. no kid should ever lose their parent, especially at such an young age. the fact that he never once exposed his son to the media (like many celebrities do) to protect his privacy tells me that he loved his boy and knew all too well the damage this exposure would cause.

i saw that some 1d songs are trending again, and as much as i would love to take the day to listen to them, it is too soon. i haven’t been able to watch friends since matthew perry died, haven’t been able to watch brooklyn 99 since andre bragher died and will not be able to listen to 1d for a while.

it’s too soon.

call me dramatic, i don’t really care. the most magical part of my adolescence has ended tragically and i am really at a loss.

for those who are conflicted as i am, take your time. it is okay to be sad he’s gone and, at the same time, feel disappointed or even angry. it is okay to mourn and, at the same time, support maya.

edit: i would also like to express my support to his parents, sisters, cheryl, kate and friends.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for correcting my niblings without my brother's input?

I had a massive falling out with my family when I was a teenager. I was into goth/edgy/horror culture and true crime before it was accepted by the mainstream, plus my parents were older when they had us and we lived on a farm. They needed my brother and me to keep the farm going, and I decided to pursue college instead. At some point after this they sold/lost their farm, but I do not know when, which fueled their resentment. At their request I did not speak to them until 2021, when my brother found me on Facebook to tell me my parents both died of covid and we held a Zoom funeral. After that he moved several states over to be closer to me so we could work on reconciliation and forgiving me for the farm incident.

So now I (45f) babysit his (44m) two youngest children (10m, 8f) for free, and have been since 2021. Initially he had full custody as his ex wife did not have a job or any job experience when they divorced (before we reconciled) but she now has a full time job so they share custody currently, although she is in our home state, so they decided the kids should go to school there still and spend holidays and summers with him. I am currently an art professor at a local university and for summer semester I only have morning classes and he works afternoons, so it works out.

Last week, his youngest asked me; "OP, how come you lie so much?" Her brother tried to shush her but I asked for clarification. Her brother told her she wasn't supposed to tell me, but she did anyway, and then he also chimed in to confirm. Turns out, whenever I told his kids about any vacations to other countries I took, he said I was making it up to sound important. When I told them I went to medical school, he said I was lying and was a glorified art teacher and only went to community college. I have a serious boyfriend who I have mentioned, although I do not spend time with him while babysitting per the mother's request not to have any adult with her children before meeting them and giving the okay, and so my brother insists I made him up.

I was very hurt, and so I showed them pictures, diplomas, videos, etc proving I was not lying. It is true I got into a community college near our home town on an art scholarship and an FHA grant, but I was able to skip generals due to advanced courses I was taking in high school. I quickly got interested in the medical field and was able to transfer to a medical school on several scholarships and obviously loans. I became a pediatric oncologist and was happy with that until my later thirties. I had kept art as a hobby but eventually realized I wanted to do more with it. I retired from pediatric oncology and then became an art professor five years ago. When I was a doctor, I met my current boyfriend (46m) who is a trauma surgeon. Starting in my late twenties, until covid, I was able to travel throughout the US and even to many foreign countries, sometimes for work, sometimes for vacation. There was no way for him to know this as we were not in contact, but I was very hurt that instead of believing me, he has been telling his kids I'm a liar for the past two years. So yes I did show them the photos and videos specifically because I was hurt.

The following day my brother called me and shouted at me, angry I had deliberately contradicted him. He was angry enough he was shouting at me. He has been dragging this on through text for the past few days. His ex wife also contacted me, asking for my version of events, as apparently their children called her crying about the situation. I told her exactly what I said here. He called me not an hour later screaming. Unbeknownst to me, she has been trying to get full custody of the children and he's convinced that this situation will get his kids taken from him, something he has a fear of due to the fact he has two adult children from a previous marriage who went no contact when they both turned 18. He insists that his ex wife turned them against him, and now he is terrified it will happen again. I was not aware of this until recently, nor did I think this would cause an issue with his custody. It has been very awkward babysitting his kids, as they have been very quiet since this whole thing happened. I don't have kids myself, nor have I been divorced, so I don't understand parenting or divorce etiquette, but I am still very hurt and even angry with him for calling me a liar to his children. Before I make any further decisions regarding an apology, I wanted to get advice as to whether I am the asshole for not bringing it up with him before showing his kids evidence that I did, in fact, do those things, and if so, how I can rectify this appropriately.

What are these acronyms?

[seobnity]

⚉ characters: keeho x fem!reader

⤷(with rest of P1Harmony)

⚉ wc: 3,1k

⚉ genre: slice of life, angst, comfort, found family(?), family drama

⚉ theme: stepbrother!keeho, stepsister!reader

⚉ warnings: discussion of grief and loss (death of a parent), family abandonment themes, mention of nursing home and mobility problems

⚉ a/n: welcome or welcome back! This one was little tough to write but still very fun. I also need to say thank you to my friend who helped me with this story because I had some struggles. And also thank you so much for reading, leaving a heart or even reblogging - it means a lot to me! If you see any mistakes, please feel free to kindly correct me ♡

"So... what did he say?" Your gaze remained fixed on the phone your step brother now held in his hand, having just picked it up from the table when a notification appeared.

Keeho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he read the message from his father—a response you both had been anticipating, though you already knew exactly what it would say. Keeho's silence only confirmed your suspicions.

"I can’t come, right?" You lowered your eyes to your cup of coffee, your voice trembling slightly, betraying the emotions you were struggling to suppress.

"It’s not... that." At last, Keeho spoke, though his voice lacked conviction.

"No?" You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "Then what is it? What’s the reason I can’t come with you?" Before Keeho could answer, you cut him off. "Let me guess," you said, pausing for effect, your tone edging on bitter. "The place where you’re supposed to meet isn’t ‘appropriate’ for someone like me. Am I right?"

"Y/N," 

"Keeho, don’t." You shook your head, a small sigh escaping your lips. You were so tired of his father’s behavior, always acting like you were never truly part of the family. "I’m just... It makes me sad, you know? It’s like I never mattered to him. Which doesn’t make any sense after everything he has done for me and my mom." You paused, taking a moment to collect your thoughts.

This whole... situation that began after your mom passed away left you angry, sad, and confused. You felt many emotions at once—overwhelmed, like a battle raging within you, where every feeling fought for dominance. It always ended with you in tears, wondering how things had spiraled to this point.

"I think it’s just funny how Mom always said he treated me like his own daughter. But now? He tells me we’ll practically be complete strangers after she’s gone. I mean, he has a point, but c'mon? How can you say that to someone you basically raised?" Your frustration spilled over as your voice broke slightly. "He was my father figure, my dad, for over a decade. And now? Now he’s acting like all those years never even happened. Like he's completely fine with calling me a stranger. It hurts. It seriously hurts," you looked up, trying to hold in your tears. You promised yourself not to cry about this again, yet, it always ends up like this.

Keeho watched you sadly, but more importantly, he listened. He didn’t excuse his father like others did with sentences such as, “Not everyone can handle that. You’re lucky he took care of you for this long,” or, “Oh, he’s still a young man. He needs to go out and find someone.” Comments like these only made you feel like a burden. But Keeho was the only one who truly understood your point of view, and for that, you were always grateful.

Once you calmed down a bit, you continued your rant. All those bottled-up emotions came rushing out in waves. Knowing yourself, you’d probably feel bad later for making Keeho sit through all of this—but that was a problem for future you.

"And let’s not forget that he found some chick not even two months after Mom died and married her five months into the relationship." You shook your head in disbelief.

Even though the words had come from your own mouth, you still couldn’t believe them. He and your mom had been in a happy marriage—everyone saw that. It was obvious, even to strangers. People could see how healthy their relationship was; it was almost sickening how sweet they were to each other. They had known each other since childhood, so their bond wasn’t just romantic—it was also built on a strong friendship. They always had each other’s backs, always went the extra mile for one another. And yet, with your mom’s death, all of that just... disappeared?

That didn’t sit right with you. And you had a theory about why that could have happened—a theory that, sadly, felt too accurate. You knew Keeho thought the same thing as you, though neither of you wanted to say it out loud because it wouldn’t change a thing.

You hunched over the table once again and took a sip of your coffee, which had already gone cold. Keeho, on the other hand, didn’t have to deal with this problem; his coffee was long gone—a complete contrast to you as a slow drinker, him being a quick one.

"Look, Y/N, I promise that as soon as I save enough money to buy a proper house, I’ll take you out of this nursing home." Finally, it was Keeho’s turn to speak. "I know you don’t deserve this. I know you don’t deserve to live... here." He eyed the room you were both in, and you did the same, even though you were here 24/7 and knew the room like the back of your hand.

Plain white walls with one small window overlooking empty fields and plain white furniture (two chairs were actually gray) that you had to buy yourself because this nursing home didn’t provide furniture for the rooms. And that was completely fine; you could at least make it to your liking. But buying furniture, even for one room, could get pretty expensive. You didn’t have money to throw around, especially when your stepdad—or ex-step dad—didn’t help with anything. He was the one who made you find a nursing home for yourself, in the first place.

To be honest, you were forced to find one because he casually told you that you had four months to get out of the house because he couldn’t take care of you anymore. Which you knew was total bullshit, but everyone around him bought it and actually praised him for doing it for so long. They never asked you about your opinion or how you felt. Only Keeho did.

"You get used to it," you shrugged. "I plan to put up some posters on the walls. I don’t know how I'll do it yet, but I’ll figure something out," you added, still eyeing the somehow depressing white walls.

"That doesn’t change the fact that you don’t deserve to live like this. To live here, in the middle of nowhere," Keeho insisted. "Have you ever been outside since you got here? No, right? Because there’s nowhere to go, and all around you are just old people you can’t have a proper conversation with." He looked you in the eyes, and the two of you held the gaze for a moment before you turned your attention back to your coffee, gripping the cup tightly.

"You know what?" Keeho said, pulling out his phone, which he had pocketed after receiving his father’s text earlier. "I won’t go. I know he’ll actually be happier being alone with his chick rather than having me around," he muttered while typing. "And... done." He set his phone down after a moment, having apparently responded to a few other messages as well.

"Are you sure about this?" You raised your eyebrows, not entirely convinced he was making the right decision. "I mean... I don’t want to hold you back from spending time with your dad," you admitted honestly.

Yes, Keeho and his dad didn’t have the best relationship, but he was still Keeho’s father, after all. You also knew Keeho rarely visited him unless it was something important—which it never was. His dad only invited him over for food or to "hang out" to get credit and admiration from others, pretending to care about his son when it suited him.

Keeho gave you a look of disbelief, as if wondering how you could even say such a thing. "I’d much rather be here with you, my little sister, than with my dad."

You searched his face, trying to see if he was lying, but his sincerity shone through, and his words warmed your heart. "You meant stepsister," you corrected him, even though you knew this term, after your mom's death, wasn’t also accurate anymore.

"Nope, I meant sister," he said firmly. "My dad may see you as a stranger now, but to me, you’ll always be my little sister."

Thanks to his sincerity, a small smile tugged at your lips. "Can you stop calling me little? I’m twenty-one already," you teased, shifting the topic slightly to avoid getting emotional again.

"But you’re still younger than me, lil’ sis," he said with a sweet, teasing smile.

To be honest? You weren’t complaining. That teasing was exactly what you needed—a distraction from all the heavy emotions swirling in your mind.

Suddenly, Keeho’s phone buzzed again with another notification. This time, you paid it no attention, focusing instead on your coffee, which was growing even colder in your hands. It was probably his dad pretending to be disappointed that Keeho wasn’t coming over, but honestly? You didn’t care.

"Do you want to stay overnight at my flat?" Keeho asked, catching you completely off guard.

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you want to stay overnight at my flat? It shouldn’t be a problem if I take you out, right?" A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Well, no," you said, shaking your head. "It’s a little sudden, but I just need to tell the caregivers here that I’ll be leaving and coming back tomorrow. That’s all," you explained.

"Perfect." He smacked the table with his hand, signaling it was time to go. "Just grab a jacket and whatever else you need. You still have everything at my place from the last sleepover forever ago," he reminded you, and you nodded.

"Could you please put the cups in the sink?" you asked. Keeho nodded, stood up, grabbed both cups, and placed them in the sink as you requested.

The kitchen was part of your room, so it only took him a few steps to complete the task. While Keeho waited, you released the brakes on your wheelchair and moved towards the drawers where you kept your belongings. You pulled out a light jacket (just in case it got chilly outside) and your backpack, which held your essentials. You also grabbed your phone and charger—items you never left behind.

"Ready?" Keeho asked, taking your backpack and jacket for you to keep your hands free.

"Yes." You nodded with a small smile, already feeling happy about leaving this place, even if it was just for a night. The two of you exited your room, you locked the door, and headed towards the elevator. Keeho pressed the button, and you waited.

"Which floor are the caregivers on?" he asked as the elevator doors closed once you were inside.

"The first one," you replied, and he pressed the button. "You can wait in your car while I talk to them, okay? It won’t take long, but they’ll probably have some questions," you added with a small chuckle.

"Okay, if you say so."

When the elevator dinged, signaling it had reached the first floor, you wheeled yourself out while Keeho continued to the ground floor. You made your way to the caregivers’ office, hoping someone would be there. Fortunately, luck was on your side—it was one of your favorite caregivers.

You explained your plans to her, and she was genuinely thrilled to hear about them. Her excitement warmed your heart. She asked a few questions, mostly out of curiosity about where you were going and who you’d be with, since you rarely left your room. In fact, you never left. There was simply nothing to do, either in the nursing home or outside, so you didn’t see the point in going out.

Once that was done, you made your way back to the elevator, went to the ground floor, and found Keeho waiting for you, leaning casually against his car.

"How does it feel to be outside?" Keeho asked smugly, grinning as he opened the passenger door for you.

"Boring," you shrugged as you moved from your wheelchair into the car seat. You were never much of an outdoors person anyway.

"Oh, come on. Can you try being a little positive?" he teased, shaking his head in mock exasperation before closing the door.

He walked to the trunk, loaded your wheelchair inside, and finally settled into the driver’s seat. Keeho started the car and pulled away from the nursing home. As the building vanished behind you, you felt a huge sense of relief — it felt like something heavy had finally been lifted from your chest, even if it was just for a few hours. It was interesting how much lighter and happier you already felt, knowing you wouldn’t be there for at least a little while.

The ride to Keeho’s flat took about an hour. Yeah, you could say it’s not that far; you could travel that by yourself, but it takes an hour by car. If you wanted to take the bus, it would take at least two hours, and from the nursing home, there’s only one bus that runs twice a day. You didn’t want to stress about that, nor were you exactly thrilled about traveling for that long, both there and back. Plus, the bus tickets weren’t exactly cheap either.

During the drive, the two of you talked about random topics to pass the time and even had a mini singing session to the songs playing on the radio.

When you arrived at the apartment complex where Keeho lived, he unloaded your wheelchair from the trunk while you unfastened your seatbelt and opened the door. Once you were back in your wheelchair, Keeho grabbed your backpack and jacket from the car, locked it, and the two of you headed inside the building.

When you reached the door to his flat, Keeho unlocked it and let you in first. You were immediately hit by the familiar smell of apple and cinnamon — Keeho’s favorite candle scent. 

To avoid being in Keeho’s way, you moved into the living room, where a big surprise awaited you. At first, it gave you a bit of a heart attack, but you quickly realized it was just Keeho’s dumb friends, who had gradually become your friends too, and you cherished them dearly.

"Y/N!" five boys shouted in cheerful unison the moment they saw you. All of them rushed over to greet you, each giving you a warm hug.

Well, except for Theo, who was also very excited to see you after a long time, but he was smart enough to wait for his turn to hug you, so he wouldn’t get squished by his friends while they were trying to group-hug you.

You didn’t even have time to properly take a look at the living room, which had been turned into a cozy haven by the boys, but there would surely be time to appreciate it later.

"Hi, guys," you said, still a little in shock (though, of course, you hugged them back), happy to see them regardless. "What are you all doing here?" you asked, curious.

"Keeho texted us that you’d be here overnight, so we decided to organize a proper sleepover," Jiung answered enthusiastically. "We got loads of movies, especially horror ones, fluffy blankets, and tons of snacks and drinks," he added with a big grin, clearly proud of what they’d pulled together while you and Keeho were on your way.

You looked up to see Keeho entering the living room, which was way too small for all of you, but no one seemed to care. After all, it was about having a good time with your friends, not about how small Keeho’s flat was. Keeho glanced at you with a small smile; no words were needed. Yet, you wanted to say thank you, to somehow show him your gratitude, but you couldn’t, because you were suddenly lifted into the air.

"What the—" you looked around and quickly spotted the culprit who had picked you up from your wheelchair. "Intak! What did I tell you about randomly picking me up? You can’t just do that!" you scolded him in a nagging tone but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto your face.

"I know, I know," he acknowledged with a nod as he carried you towards the couch. "But you have to understand, I missed you way too much and just couldn’t resist holding you in my arms." He flashed you a sweet smile, complete with puppy eyes that always worked on you. That’s why whenever the boys wanted something from you (or did something that might have made you mad), they would use Intak and his puppy eyes to soften you up and get their way.

"Sure," you said, playfully rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help letting out a chuckle, which made Intak smile even wider. "What a romantic you are."

"Me? Always." As soon as he said it, you heard fake gagging noises from the other boys, especially the younger ones, which only made you laugh; how much you’d missed this.

By the time your conversation ended, Intak had already reached the couch and carefully set you down. You ended up right in the middle, with the best view and easy access to all the snacks and drinks the boys had brought.

"Hey, I was supposed to be the one sitting on one of her sides!" Intak complained, frowning when he noticed Soul and Jongseob, the two youngest of the group, already sitting on either side of you with a big blanket draped over all of you.

"Hm, yikes," said Jongseob, barely paying attention to Intak’s whining as he grabbed some chips from the table. "Sounds like a you problem," he looked at Intak with a triumphant grin, and Soul quickly nodded in agreement.

"These kids, really," Intak muttered to himself, turning toward the armchair right next to the couch. "Seriously?" he said, frustration kicking in.

Theo was already lounging in the armchair, his legs draped over one armrest and a bowl of popcorn balanced in his lap. Without a word, Theo simply shrugged, clearly having no intention of moving. Intak groaned and turned back towards the couch, ready to claim a spot near your legs, only to find Jiung and Keeho already seated there.

"This is impossible," he sighed dramatically, collapsing in defeat on the floor in front of the table — the only space left for him to occupy.

All of you (except for Intak, of course) burst into small fits of laughter at his misfortune. But the moment passed quickly as Jiung pressed play on the TV remote, starting the first of many movies for the night.

With Soul and Jongseob snuggled up on either side of you, your arms wrapped protectively around them under the blanket, you let out a slow exhale through your nose. A wave of contentment washed over you as you relaxed into the moment, savoring it to the fullest.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Wash Away the Pain #1 - Echo

Returning to Kamino following a string of back-to-back missions after Anaxes, Echo receives the news he never wanted to hear.

Pairing: Echo x gn!reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: whump, reference to Fives death, Echo has self-esteem issues, mourning and grief, hurt and comfort, you and the boys rally around Echo, bittersweet ending.

A/N: I was heavily inspired by these gorgeous drawings by @thattoothpick.

This is part of a mini-series where each of our boys will get their sad/angsty shower time, but they can be read as standalones.

Check out the whole series: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair.

Sign up to be tagged in my future fics.

The sound of falling water drowned out everything else in the fresher, the water temperature so hot it should’ve been uncomfortable, but after years in cryofreeze, Echo welcomed the heat. 

He was gone. 

He was really gone.

“I’m sorry, Echo. I really am. He should’ve been stunned. I still don’t know why it went down like that.”

Rex’s voice as he’d broken the news still rang in his head. Echo had received a message from him only an hour ago, after you’d all landed on Kamino following a string of back-to-back missions following Anaxes. He’d thought they would just shoot the breeze like old times. He hadn’t expected this.

Echo’s eyes drop, fixating on the metal legs the Techno Union had attached to his body. The scomp on his right arm, the ports littering his body. Self-loathing coils through him.

Why did he get to live? Why was he turned into a machine while Fives died, lost in panic, in a dirty Coruscant street? The only saving grace was that Rex had been there to hold him. 

So lost in his thoughts, Echo misses the sound of the fresher door opening, of you slipping inside and shutting it behind you. 

Echo might’ve only been with you and the boys for a few weeks, but you’d quickly grown fond of him. So much so that when he’d returned to the barracks 10 minutes ago, crest-fallen, clutching a bucket painted in the colours of the 501st, and then promptly headed for the fresher without so much as a word, you’d known something was wrong. Your datapad had pinged a few moments later, a message from Rex filling you in, asking you to keep an eye on Echo – as if you wouldn’t have done that. 

Physically, he was fine, albeit still getting used to his new body. As the squads nat-born medic, called in because of the inability of your boys to get along with regs, it was your job to look after their wellbeing. And now it seemed Echo needed some care.

You step into the shower behind him, not caring that you’re still clothed, and slowly press a hand to his back. Echo jolts at the touch, caught off-guard, turning in place to meet your gaze. With space tight on the Marauder and sharing barracks, seeing the boys in various states of undress had become commonplace. Heck, half the time, they had to be stripped out of their ruined blacks when injured. The nudity no longer bothered any of you. Echo had adapted to it quickly, too.

“Echo…” His name falls from your lips quietly, hand rising to cup his face. His head tilts away from your gaze, taking your hand with him. Thumb smoothing across his gaunt cheek, you watch as a myriad of emotions flit across his face.  

Echo’s eyes were now clouded with grief and guilt. The water from the shower mixes with the tears streaming down his face, creating a bittersweet cascade that mirrored the turmoil within him.

“I should’ve been there,” Echo mutters, his voice strained and filled with regret. “I should’ve protected him. He’s gone because of me.”

Your heart aches for him, and you rest your free hand on his waist, pulling him closer. The prosthetic attachments on his body feel cold against your skin – even with the shower’s heat – a stark reminder of his sacrifices for the Republic. “Echo, you couldn’t have known. You’ve been through so much. Don’t blame yourself.”

He shakes his head, a mix of frustration and sorrow in his eyes. “I can’t shake the feeling that I failed him. And now I’m just a machine, a reminder of everything we lost.”

You gently trace the contours of the implants on his arm, your fingers dancing over the hard surface. “You’re not just a machine, Echo. You’re a survivor. You’re still here.”

He finally meets your gaze, and for a moment, he searches your eyes. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but you let him take his time. “I don’t know how to be here without him.” He finally admits.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Grieve, remember, but don’t forget that there are people here who care about you, who want to help you through this.” You tell him softly, the water continuing to pour down around you both.

Echo’s shoulders slump, and he leans into your touch, the warmth of your presence starkly contrasting with the cold metal that now makes up a significant part of him. The weight of loss and survivor’s guilt hangs heavy in the air, but your steady support gives him a small anchor in the storm of his emotions.

“I don’t want to be alone again.” He admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“You never will be.” You assure him, fingers continuing their gentle exploration of the cybernetic enhancements that have become a part of him, wanting to show him that it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with his new body. “We’re all here for you, Echo. The boys, Rex, and I.”

He nods, a silent acknowledgement of your words. The water washes away not just the physical grime but also some of the emotional turmoil that has gripped him since Rex delivered the devastating news.

As the two of you stand in the warmth of the shower, Echo may feel like a machine, a remnant of a past he can’t forget, but your touch, your empathy, reminds him that he’s still human beneath the prosthetics. 

Eyes flitting towards the counter just outside the shower cubicle, Echo lets out a small sigh as he looks over his brother’s helmet. Memories of them painting their armour together surface, of the multiple attempts it had taken to get the lines crisp, of Fives dipping his hand in blue paint to reapply the print on Echo’s chestplate.

Following his gaze, a sad smile passes over your lips. “Remembering him doesn’t mean you must carry the weight alone.” You say, voice a gentle murmur. “We’re all here to share the burden. Fives will always be a part of you, and you’ll carry his memory forward.”

Echo's gaze lingers on the helmet. The loss of a brother is a wound that cuts deep, but perhaps, with time and support, the injury could heal into a scar - a testament to the strength it took to endure.

As the water cools, you guide Echo out of the shower. The small space feels intimate and comforting, a refuge from the harsh realities of the galaxy. You hand him a towel, and he begins to dry himself off on autopilot, his mind still processing the emotional whirlwind.

Over the following days, the barracks become a place of healing. The boys rally around Echo, offering support and understanding. When Echo’s new armour is finished – having undergone some modifications courtesy of Tech – they paint it in their colours while you distract Echo in the medbay. You’d also procured some blue paint from Rex, and they make sure to add a small Aurebesh ‘5’ and a fine-line domino to the back of the chestplate.

The tears that had clouded Echo’s gaze as he’d been presented with his new kit and had turned it over to find the hidden tribute were a mixture of sorrow and gratitude. The pain of loss still lingered, but each stroke of the brush, each carefully applied detail, was a silent affirmation that he was not alone.

In the quiet moments, you still find Echo gazing at Five’s helmet, stored securely on the Marauder. But now, there’s a small smile playing on his lips. The pain may never fully fade, but Echo carries the memories of Fives with gratitude for the time they shared, and the squad learns that even in loss, there’s strength in unity.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @littlemissmanga @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411

[pardi-real]

Tarot of Destiny / Chapter 14 - Happier Than Anyone Else

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Warning: also definitely spoilers

Hanamaru: “Aight, then. Finally, just the 2 of us, huh… Let's get along as fellow grim reapers, my lord.”

> “Yours is reversed though…”

Hanamaru: “Yeah. As said before, my ‘Death’ card is in the ‘reversed position'... It seems to mean things like… ‘retry’ or ‘restart’.

Well, leaving aside whether this tarot fortune-telling is accurate or not, if it's to save you, my lord... I'll do whatever it takes. Hmm… look back at myself through this card and convey the feelings that arise from it to the lord, huh… 'Retry'... 'restart'....

Hmmm… Well, some parts of it might really apply to me.”

> “Apply to you?”

Hanamaru: “Ah, it might get a tiny bit serious, but... I had a rough life, much worse than now.”

Then Hanamaru calmly talked about his past. He lived as a bounty hunter in the eastern lands, angered a corrupt authority figure, and his hometown was burned.  It was the first time he talked about what happened before he came to the church orphanage.

> “That sounds tough…”

Hanamaru: “Well, you know how it went afterward, my lord.  I've always... wanted revenge against the angels. The ones who killed those kids five years ago... I wanted to avenge them so badly. 

Of course, I didn't let on how messed up I felt about it to the kids who survived.  I was seriously regretting it, like it was eating me up inside… I was so angry, I felt like dying.  But now, meeting you, becoming a devil butler and all, I've finally got the power to take on those angels.

It's something to be happy about, but sometimes I think... if you weren't in this world, my lord... I might have died trying to avenge them without releasing the devil's power.  I couldn't exact revenge without it.

So when I think about it... I'm glad you're here. Thanks to you, I can continue avenging the kids without being killed by angels. Wait…  Saying it like this makes it sound like you're just a tool for revenge. My bad. 

I didn't mean to hurt you… but frankly, before meeting you... I only thought about using you for revenge. Because back then... I had no idea what kinda person you were.

Remember?  When we first wore tailcoats and went to show ourselves to you... You were like... ‘I want you guys to be happy.’ You know… I'm pretty good at identifying scammers. So when I heard that, I became convinced and was like, ‘Ah, this person is really good.’

Of course, being adored by the butlers helps, huh? Yo! Look at this charmer right here! So, just like everyone else, I fell for you, my lord. I want to stay by your side forever... 

I thought my life would be just about hunting angels, a grim existence... But It turned out to be a pretty enjoyable life. Thanks, my lord.  And, let's continue to get along from now on. I hope we can be together for a long time.

So... Don't worry about the tarot's result. You could even turn it into tissue paper and throw it away.”

> “Y-you're right…” > “Can I, really…?”

Hanamaru: “Oops. That wasn't very butler-like. Oh well. I guess I really am unrefined.”

~ A little while later ~

Having received the feelings of all 17 butlers, I decided to think again about what Ms. Elvira had said about ’the way to be saved from an ominous fate.’

Teddy: “So, my lord... Have you come up with anything?”

Yuhan: “Lady Elvira mentioned, ’You have experienced the answer firsthand.' Is it possible that the answer lies in our shared experiences?”

> “I'm not quite sure yet…”

Hanamaru: “Well, let's take it easy. It's just a talk about fortune-telling anyway. Some fortune tellers even intentionally sell ‘comfort goods’ together with ‘anxiety-inducing predictions.’  It might be a loss to take it too seriously.”

Teddy: “But, both Mr. Berrien and Mr. Haures said that Lady Elvira's fortune-telling is accurate... I want to be optimistic, but I can't help worrying.”

Hanamaru: “Oh, right. How about this, then?  If the upright Death card is making you uneasy... Then, my lord, you can do a ‘handstand'.”

> “Handstand...?”

Hanamaru: “Yeah. If you do that, you'll become the Death card reversed, just like me. If we're both in the reversed position, you should feel reassured, right?”

Yuhan: “Mr. Hanamaru…  Please think more seriously about this.”

Hanamaru: “Haha, sorry, sorry. But don't you want to see the lord doing a handstand too?”

Yuhan: “Sigh... I definitely can't let my lord do a handstand, but for my lord's sake... Perhaps we should try anything. Well then, Mr. Hanamaru, please try doing a handstand.”

Hanamaru: “......Huh? Me?”

Yuhan: “Yes. If Mr. Hanamaru does a handstand, the tarot will change from the reversed position to an upright position, right...  That is to say, if there's a change in Mr. Hanamaru's fate, it means that handstands have an effect.”

Hanamaru: “......Yuhan, you…… ...You want to use me as a guinea pig?”

Yuhan: “Oh? Who was it that wanted to experiment with my lord?”

Hanamaru: “......Hey~ Teddy. Help me out here~.”

Teddy: “Huh? Oh, okay... Then... I'll grab your legs as you do a handstand to help you, Mr. Hanamaru. Alright, go ahead!”

Hanamaru: “Hey! That's not what I meant…”

I couldn't help but smile at the playful exchange between the three. It lightened my uneasiness about the ominous fate, and I started feeling a bit relieved.

Hanamaru: “Ohh. Seems like my lord is feeling a bit better now.”

Teddy: “That's right! Even if we don't find the answer now, there's no need to hurry!”

Yuhan: “Yes. We will protect my lord no matter what happens. You are an irreplaceable presence to us…”

Hanamaru: “Yeah. And of course not just because ‘you can release the power of devil butlers.’ You've brought us many other, more precious things.”

Teddy: “For us, my lord is more precious than life itself! Please don't forget that. From now on, we will protect you and live by your side, my lord. So... There's nothing to worry about.”

> “Thank you, guys”

All the butlers were trying to make me feel less anxious, promising to protect me no matter what. Their powerful words… little by little, made me feel at ease.

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[mswyrr]

taking a moment away from my rebecca ferguson thirst to express my appreciation for the writing and acting on ewan's monologue here. gorgeous work - both showing Dan as someone who was buried alive under his addiction and pain and now, eight years later, as someone who has found the life within him again

"I'm not much of a speech guy. I just thought I'd hold the chip and talk about whatever popped up. So, here I am. And I'm thinkin' about my dad. I saw a chip like this in his hand once. A couple months before he died. Five month chip, I'm pretty sure.

He hurt me once when he was drunk. Broke my arm. Then he dried right out. He died when I was five, so the only way I got to know him, really got to know him, was when I went dark. When I… When I drank to dull the… or, uh… whenever I wanted to break someone's face, 'cause the drinking and the temper and the anger, those things in me were his. And they were all I could know of him.

But now, well, now I get to know him a little different… 'cause he also stood in a room like this once… wanting to get well for me and my mom. And he held the chip in his hand and the chip said five months, and on that day, he… Before it all… Well, on that day, all he wanted in the world was to stand where I'm standing now. And here I am, so thank you for us both, I guess."

[blondeboyff]

A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing | Aemond Targaryen x Ofc

Tw: Death, Violence

~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a young girl. She was beautiful, brave, smart, and most importantly, she was kind. Anyone that met her would tell you of her kind and gentle personality and how she would never hurt a fly. She was trained, like many other high born ladies, to be polite and gentle and never speak out of turn. However unlike other high born ladies, she was not just high born, she was the daughter of a lord, a very powerful lord at that. Lord Rickon Stark of Winterfell was her father and Lady Melara Bolton was her mother. Now unfortunately, her mother passed away during childbirth when the girl was but seven years of age, neither her or the babe made it. The girl also had a older brother, the future Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark. After her mother died it was just her father, her brother, and her left. She may have been the daughter of a Lord but she was still always left out by the other ladies of the winter court and she liked it. Now the name of this girl is Naemera, Naemera Stark, and I am here to tell her forgotten story.

~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a young girl. She was beautiful, brave, smart, and most importantly, she was kind. Anyone that met her would tell you of her kind and gentle personality and how she would never hurt a fly. She was trained, like many other high born ladies, to be polite and gentle and never speak out of turn. However unlike other high born ladies, she was not just high born, she was the daughter of a lord, a very powerful lord at that. Lord Rickon Stark of Winterfell was her father and Lady Melara Bolton was her mother. Now unfortunately, her mother passed away during childbirth when the girl was but seven years of age, neither her or the babe made it. The girl also had a older brother, the future Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark. After her mother died it was just her father, her brother, and her left. She may have been the daughter of a Lord but she was still always left out by the other ladies of the winter court and she liked it. Now the name of this girl is Naemera, Naemera Stark, and I am here to tell her forgotten story.

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

I was standing on the deck of the boat, watching the Stark flags fly in the wind. I could hear my older brother, Cregan, sparring with his teacher, and our protector, Ser Aeron Tully. Ser Aeron was the fifth son of Clay Tully so he, along with his two other brothers, were sent to be squires where they eventually became knights. All I could do was scoff at how serious Cregan would take his training. My father was talking about plans with one of his advisers under the small tent we had set up on the ships deck for rain coverage, so I just stayed to myself. My mother and I would usually be the one sticking together but since she passed it has just been me.

I would always miss my mother. I miss when she would come into my room at night if there was ever a storm and sing to me but according to my father, "Those days were over and I needed to mature". My mother was the second daughter of Samwell Bolton and was sent to marry my father when she was only ten and five years of age. She then had my brother a year later and two years after that, she had me. Five years after she had me she fell pregnant again but unfortunately she got bed fever and neither her nor my little brother survived. I usually would try not to think about her death but now that I was on my way to Laena Velaryon's funeral, it brought up all of my memories. I felt bad for Baela and Rhaena, as I knew what they were feeling. I also knew that they're father, Daemon, probably wasn't comforting them as much as they needed. I heard footsteps from behind me and soon felt a hand rest on my shoulder.

"My lady, we need to start getting you ready for port, we are almost there." My handmaiden, Tara, was like a second mother to me, especially after my mother died. I looked out at the sea one last time before I walked into my own room to get changed.

Tara told me we would arrive to Driftmark before supper so I needed to get ready now. Tara sat me down a pulled out a brush to detangle my knotted hair.

"Remember Mera, you will be meeting the royal family, so I expect you to be one your very best behavior, and make sure your curtsy's are low," Tara reminded me. "I also want you to show the greatest respect to the Prince Aemond." The last part confused me.

"Why the Prince Aemond and not Prince Aegon or Princess Rhaenyra?" I asked, turning around to look at her.

"Don't worry about that right now, I just want you to make a good impression on him, that is all little love." She finished brushing my hair and went over to my chest to get out one of my dresses. It was a black dress but it was lighter than my other dresses due to it not being as cold in Driftmark than it is Winterfell. Tara also decided to put my hair in a half up half down style so the wind wouldn't mess up my hair too much. Above me I could hear the ship crew starting to prepare for port.

After Tara finished doing everything necessary, I headed up to the deck to meet with my father and brother. Once I made it to the deck I saw my father and brother waiting for me. I bowed my head to both of them as a sign of respect. I looked over to my left and was amazed at what I saw. To my left, was the biggest beach I had ever seen, and what was on the beach was even better. There were dragons. Actual dragons. I gasped and looked up at my father only to see him smirking down at my shocked face. We were always told that dragons were real and the Targaryens rode them but no one in the North had ever actually seen one to prove the stories. And what shocked me most of all, was Vhagar. The biggest dragon in Westeros. I knew that Laena Velaryon was her previous rider, but now I didn't know who would get her. Who ever did would be very lucky.

"Naemera, I need you to be on your best behavior, no loud talking, no wondering off, and do not go anywhere near the dragons." My father said sternly. He then turned to my brother, "Cregan, watch your sister at all times and do not let her out of you sight."

"Of course father, I would never let anything happen to her." He then looked down at me and, without father noticing, he stepped on my foot. I let out a gasp and turned around to shove him put was interrupted by our fathers adviser, Rodrick. Rodrick had been my father's adviser before me or even Cregan was born. Rodrick pulled my father away and whispered something in his ear. Cregan and I both tried to hear what he said but with the sound from the waves and wind, we couldn't make out anything.

A few minutes later we finally arrived at port. The bridge was lowered onto the dock and  my father stepped out first followed by my brother, and then me. After me, it was Rodrick and then Tara. I stepped off the dock and our family was greeted by the  Targaryens. My father and brother bowed to the family while I curtsied to them. My father greeted the King first before moving to the Queen.

I had always looked up to the Queen and thought she was amazing. I looked over to the Queens right and saw three of her four children, Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, and Prince Aemond. I had assumed Prince Daeron was back in Kings Landing, as he was still a young boy. I curtsied to all of the royal children and moved onto Princess Rhaenyra, and her children. I did the same thing with them as I did the other royals. We then moved onto Prince Daemon and his daughters. I looked at Rhaena and Baela and felt pity for them. I kept eye contact a little longer than the rest of the royals and bowed my head slightly to show them some extra respect.

After introducing everyone we all headed to the funeral ceremony. It wasn't a typical Targaryen funeral, instead it was Velaryon funeral. I wasn't exactly paying attention to what was happening, mainly because I was bored, but what I did notice was Prince Aemond. I looked over at him, only to see him already looking at me. We kept eye contact for a few seconds before he looked away. I just continued to look at him with a puzzled face before Tara tapped my shoulder to get my attention. All of a sudden I heard Prince Daemon laughing. Everyone gave him a confused look. I didn't understand why he would be laughing at his own wife's funeral. I looked around and saw some people rolling their eyes.

After the ceremony was finished we all went up towards the castle. Everyone was there except for Prince Laenor. I could only guess he was down by the water, grieving his sister. I saw Rhaena and Baela sitting together on a bench and decided to go up to them. They were both around my age so maybe I could even make a few friends here.

"Hello, I'm Naemera Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you both," I introduced myself while sticking out my hand to shake. Baela was the first to shake my hand followed by Rhaena. I could tell Rhaena was taking her mothers death the hardest by the way she acted. Baela, on the other hand, seemed to be taking it better. "I am sorry for your losses." I truthfully tell them. "I lost my mother too." I say in a quieter tone. I tried to relate with them to see if that would help.

When I told them about my mother Rhaena looked up at me. "Really?" Her eyes were red. I nodded gently. I was about to say something else but my father called me over. I walked over to my father and saw he was with the Queen and her second son, Aemond.

"Naemera," my father called. I walked next to him and he put his arm around my shoulder. "This is the Queen Alicent and her son Aemond." I curtsied to them and I felt a hand under my chin to pull me back up. I looked up and saw Alicent checking out my features. She smiled at me softly and removed her hand from my face.

"You are beautiful." She completed and I blushed. I over to my father and saw him with a proud smile.

I bowed my head. "Thank you your majesty." I said softly. I looked over to her right and saw her son looking at me with a stoic face. My father spoke up again.

"This is the Queens son, Aemond." I smiled at the boy. He only looked to be a year or two older than me. This time the Queen spoke up.

"Maybe you would like to walk with Aemond. To take his mind off of things." She suggested and Aemonds head perked up. I looked over at my father, unsure of what to do, and he nodded.

I looked up at the Queen and smiled before looking over at Aemond. "It would be my honour." I told them and waited. The Prince looked over at me and stuck out his hand. I took it and we began to walk. I looked over my shoulder and saw my brother staring with confusion.

Aemond and I walked in silence for a bit before I spoke up. "My name is Naemera," I smiled, even though I knew he knew my name.

He continued to look ahead of himself. "I know." He said briefly. I sighed and looked over to the ocean.

"I've never seen the ocean," I stated calmly. I looked to see his reaction and all he did was nod. "Do you not have anything to say?" I asked, starting to get annoyed. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You do not know me. We have nothing to discuss." He said curtly. Another sigh escaped my lips as I tried to think of something to say.

"Do you know why we're supposed to walk with each other?" This finally seemed to get a reaction out of him. He stopped walking and faced me with a judgmental expression.

"Is it not obvious?" He scoffed and muttered something under his breath about me being foolish. "They want to form an arrangement between the two of us." I looked at him, not understanding what he meant, and he rolled his eyes. "A marriage arrangement." He clarified.

I stopped walking and stepped away from him. "But why? You are a Targaryen and I am a Stark." I was still confused. I knew my house was powerful but I had always thought the Targaryens would marry their own family members. "Are you not supposed to marry a sister?" I asked him with genuine concern.

"No. My brother is to marry my sister," He stopped waking again and looked over at the sea. "Your house is the second most powerful. It would make an alliance between our houses if we were to wed." He continued. I nodded my head understandingly. Between the crashing of the waves I heard a dragon roar and I turned around in awe.

"They are beautiful creatures." I stared while staring at a gold and pink dragon. He turned to where I was looking and nodded.

"That is Sunfyre, Aegons dragon." He stated. I continued to stare at the magnificent dragon.

"Do you have one?" I asked him suddenly and I could feel him tense up. He turned away from me and shook his head no.

"No, and it is none of your business or concern." I could tell it was a sore subject so I didn't talk about it again. I whispered an apology and turned back to the sea. I felt the wind blow through my hair and I felt at ease. The quiet was interrupted my someone shouting my name.

I turned around to see my brother walking towards us. Once he reached us he bowed to Aemond and began talking. "The sun is about to set. I am here to escort the both of you back." He told us. I nodded and we began to walk back to the castle. Once we were inside the castle, we were greeted by my father and Alicent.

Cregan bowed to the Queen and walked away. Alicent walked over to her son and whispered something in his ear. The prince nodded and slightly bowed his head to my father before walking away with his mother. My father turned to me and smiled.

"How did it go?" He asked almost cheerfully. I looked at him confused and shrugged my shoulder.

"He is very stoic." I think back to our brief conversation. My father nodded slightly and sighed.

"You are to marry him." My father said suddenly and I looked up at him with wide eyes. I know he said we were to marry but I didn't actually believe him.

I averted my eyes to my dress and nodded. "Yes father." My voice was quiet. I did not know how to process this information. My father walked over and placed his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and he smiled reassuringly. "Have you told Cregan yet?" I grinned. Father let out a soft chuckle and shook his head no.

"No. And I won't until I know he is ready." I smiled some more. "Now, off to bed." He added. I rolled my eyes playfully and he pushed my shoulder gently. Tara came into the room and escorted me to my room.

She changed me out of my dress and dressed me into my night gown. She finished my nightly routine and sat down on the bed with me. "I assume your father told you?" She grinned as she fluffed a pillow. I scoffed and leaned against the bed frame.

"So everyone know but me?" It's a rhetorical question but it still feels that way. She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "He does not like me." I complained. She grinned and finished making the bed.

"Give him time Mera," She stroked my hair. "Maybe he is just a diamond in the rough." She half joked. I looked up at her and smirked.

"What if I don't like diamonds?" I asked playfully.

She looked at me and shook her head with a grin. "Then maybe he is a sapphire in the rough." She tucked me into bed and kissed my forehead. "Now go to sleep little wolf." I nodded and heard her walk out the door and close it. I shut my eyes and felt darkness invade my vision.

Just as soon as I was about to fall asleep I heard a loud roar that shook the entire castle. I got out of bed and looked out my window. My jaw dropped when I saw someone riding Vhagar. I quietly left my room and ran to the beach. I gasped in awe as I watched someone actually ride a dragon. I thought of who it could be and an idea flashed through my mind. No it couldn't be, I thought to myself. I squinted my eyes to look at the rider closer and I gasped. It was Aemond! I laughed in amazement. He did it. I didn't know why, but I was proud of him. I smiled to myself and began to walk. Back to my chambers.

I snuck back into the castle and walked into my room. Right before I laid down again I heard shouting from the throne room. My curiosity got the better of me again and I snuck down to the throne room. When I entered the room my eyes widened.

I looked and saw Baela, Rhaena, Jace, Luke, Joffery, and Aemond all yelling at each other. I took a closer look at Aemond and my heart sank. Aemond sat in a chair with a Maester next to him. Aemonds left eye had been cut out. I could tell he was in a lot of pain and I felt bad for him. He had gotten a dragon but lost an eye.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and quickly turned around. I saw my father looking down on me with a stern face before he leaned down to my ear. "Go back to your chamber. Now." He demanded sternly. I nodded my head but before I left I looked over my shoulder. When I looked I noticed Aemond staring at me. I stared back and was about to give him a smile but was pushed away by my father.

[marypsue]

I'd love to hear your thoughts on S1 of ST being a tragedy! No main character dies, so I never thought of it that way before

I mean, nobody has to die for a story to be a tragedy (at least, in the modern definition. I'm pretty sure '(almost) everybody dies' is a requirement of Greek tragedies and Renaissance revenge tragedies). But also, no main character dies in season one...if you take season one as part of a series. Which it wasn't originally conceived as.

I am not going looking for copies of the original pitch bible, because I am lazy, and also I only saw them floating around this webbed site. But the show changed a lot from the initial pitch (Joyce had a Long Island accent! Lucas' parents were divorcing! Murray was there and named Terry Ives! Most of what ended up in Hopper's character originally belonged to Mr. Clarke! The original pitch bible is fascinating). And part of the original pitch was a proposal for possible sequels.

The Duffers' proposal for a possible sequel was "It's ten years later, and Eleven is dead".

So that's the setup. Everything that came after season one was made up wholecloth after season one was a hit and people wanted more, but also people loved the adorable little psychic murder child (cue the Duffers shockedpikachu.jpg) and Netflix obviously recognised it would be a bad call to make a new season without her in it. So it makes sense to take season one as a unit, as a self-contained story on its own. You can also take it as part of a whole, but it makes sense to read it first as a complete story. Especially given the thematic drift of later seasons and the way they are...I'm just going to say it, each new season is very much added-on to what came before rather than being built on foundation that the earlier season(s) laid. It is very clear there was never a planned five-season story arc from the beginning. (This isn't necessarily always a bad thing, when it comes to sequels, but it does mean it makes sense to 'read' each season as its own thing.)

Okay, now that we've established all of that. Season one has one very clear goal, one very clear stake for the characters: save Will Byers from the Upside Down. (I like this. It makes the stakes both extremely high and extremely personal, it makes it very easy to understand each character's motivation, it also keeps the stakes grounded in reality. I like this a lot.) And by the end of the season, that goal is accomplished. So at first blush, you're right, season one doesn't look like a tragedy.

But when you start to unpack it a little, you start to see just how many important things were lost along the way. It's most glaringly obvious with Mike and El, with Nancy and Barb. The whole Wheeler family is fractured down the middle, with Mike and Nancy on one side and Ted, Karen, and Holly on the other, and Karen, who's been trying so hard the whole time to be part of her children's lives and understand what's going on with them, is aware of the ever-expanding gulf between them but will never be able to cross it, and will never fully know why. Hopper's finally managed to snatch a kid out of the jaws of death, save a woman he obviously cares about from the pain of losing a child, and Joyce has finally had someone believe her, support her, trust her. But it became blindingly obvious to me on my fourth rewatch that Hopper's plan, from the moment he went to leave the middle school gym, was always to trade El for Will. And that decision (and the fact that Joyce obviously understands that he did something to get the lab to let them go after Will, but she obviously doesn't dare press him on what) has broken her trust in him, and left him with what looks like an equally heavy burden of guilt as what he was carrying before. The lab stays open. The government gets away with everything. No one will ever know the true extent of the hurt they've caused.

And in the end, none of it even saved Will. He's back. He's alive. But he's spitting slugs in the sink. He's permanently marked by the Upside Down, and by trying to hide it from his family, he's putting a crack down the centre of them, as well. They're losing Will, just as surely as they had when they thought he was dead, just without him going anywhere.

And there's still a hole in the world.

The fragile bonds of community, the things that people share in common, the way catastrophe can bring people together and bring out the very best in them, are the major thematic threads woven through season one. Human connection is the only thing that can change what seems inevitable, the only thing that can bring back what's seemingly lost forever.

And it's still not enough to protect anyone from the random tragedy of the world.

The love was there. The love mattered. The love bent the entire course of the world around itself.

And it still wasn't quite enough.

If that's not a tragedy, then I don't know what is.

[mamalunawolf]

The life of Amaya

An MC behind the lore

A birthday special ~ TW Some minor dealings of violence. Rated mature. For sensitive readers.

They say, all the best parts of you. Were a gift a talent. A breath of fresh air to new life. How one could take a step into life and given the opportunity of a lifetime. But for me. No. Not for me..

My parents. They were mafia lords. Spanish lords that hardly was noticed. They were good at it. My mother married into it. That’s when they had my sister, Isabella. The intelligent one. She was keen on perceptive behavior. Always begged mom and dad for a sibling. Who would have guessed. Although my father was calm, docile and happy at the time. He loved mom. Until years later. I was born. Coming into this world was painful. I saw darkness. I didn’t scream. Neither did my mother. Except for my father. I couldn’t understand why he refused to hold me once my heart started to beat. I was born early. So I didn’t understand. Until a year later, with a frustrating father and a nanny who hardly kept tabs on me.

Isabella had to be my mother. And she was only 7. And it was awful. Being blamed for something I hardly understood. But when I turned five. That’s when I knew.

I killed my mother. Just for existing.

A shame to myself really. I just wanted him to notice me. To love me. To tell me how proud he was that his daughter knew so much. But Isabella and I didn’t get that loving father. The smell of alcohol was a bitter thing to smell. And his men stared at us like we were good. But Isabella knew well what to do in situations like this.

I was young. I didn’t know. I didn’t know why daddy would hurt me physically the way he did. My sister took the hits some of the time. He kept saying how we had our mother’s eyes. And it stung. Since that’s all we had of her. Until one day, we found a picture of her. With Isabella. And that’s when we left.

I think she was in her teens, close to sixteen or eighteen by the time we left Spain. We got onto a boat without notice. With stolen money and a few clothes. And a picture… of mother.

We stayed in a small town of London. The smell of fish and smoke. It didn’t bother us since we used to enjoy eating cod on most days when we were offered it. My sister worked, inside a bakery. Owned by a cute older couple. They took us in and raised us until they died of old age. It was a confusing matter when I tried to tell my sister that they never woke up for morning shift. Isabella ended up having the store. A will they didn’t know the older couple had kept. They didn’t love us, but this was a testament to what we now know. They did. And we were too afraid to admit it.

Over time, my sister was a smart woman and we both worked the bakery. Selling Spanish coffees and baked goods. Delicious in their own way. Until I decided to change my path. Leave. That’s when my life changed for the better. And I am who I am.

From the world full of witches and wizards. To the battlefield of the task force. To the deepspace of Linkon City. Stardew valley. Or maybe, as a Druid in Baldurs gate. What ever it was. I went down this path. But it’s up to you. On whether I go down it.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Part 2 to this ficlet here

Jiang Yanli pours him a cup of tea, her movements elegant and smooth as she angles the kettle and pours the hot, perfumed liquid into the ceramic, not even a drop spilling.

Wei Wuxian watches her, keenly. She isn't sluggish or uncoordinated, she doesn't seem to be struggling - she isn't at all like a fierce corpse.

And yet, much like a fierce corpse, she always responds to Chenqing's call, or gets tempted to speak by Inquiry.

"I know what you've come to talk to me about." she says, in the same kind, soft voice Wei Wuxian is used to. "And I will tell you, but you must promise to keep it a secret. Nobody is allowed to know, not even A-Cheng, okay?"

Wei Wuxian nods, fingers nearly burning around his hot cup of tea.

"I was five years old when my golden core manifested. I'd been looking forward to it for as long as I could remember. I kept asking everybody what it would feel like, whether it would hurt, how I'd know." a smile, "I did know... but not in the way that everyone else did."

She sipped at the tea, seemingly unreactive to its heat. "I woke up one morning, a week or two after I turned five, and went into the training grounds to prepare for when my core would burn alight, like mother instructed... Except, as I went in to attack the disciple that had been teaching me self defense, there was a sudden glow to my hand, it felt warm almost as if I'd burnt a candle on my palm, and then she fell over screaming in pain."

Yanli closed her eyes, "I got scared and started crying, and mother rushed over to see what was going on. She paled when she realized, and whisked me away immediately. It wasn't a golden core that I manifested..." her eyes open, slowly, then all at once, "it was the ability to melt golden cores."

Wei Wuxian drops the tea cup from his lips right as he was about to drink it, spilling the hot liquid all over the fragile skin of his hand and the cheap material of his robes. He feels the burn, distantly, as his hands begin to shake. No, no way... there is no way...

"My father is... was Wen Zhuliu. My mother had hoped I wouldn't inherit his gift, but fate had not been on her side. I do not know whether father - uncle Jiang - knew about mother's infidelity, because he never spoke of it. But I've later learned he had been the one to spread the rumor in Yunmeng that I've been kidnapped." There is an expression on her face that Wei Wuxian can't read, but he figures he matches it as well. All those gripes about uncle Jiang and Wei Wuxian's mother, all the while knowing...

"I remember mother sealing my lips and taking me to Meishan.." Jiang Yanli smiles, like she always does, but it looks haunted now. "That is the place where I died."

Wisps of resentful energy curl protectively around Wei Wuxian's legs, much like overprotective, affectionate cats. He usually waves them away, but this time he allows their presence, the ghostly touch grounding him through the earth-shattering information he's receiving.

"My mother's relatives performed a forbidden spell on me, which forced my soul out of my body and... well, I died." She's done trying to be soft about it, her features come together in a frown as she remembers the experiences. Wei Wuxian thinks it must not have been pleasant.

"They trapped my soul and then cut half of it away, to get rid of my ability. Then, they forced my soul back in through a summoning ritual, and I came back... but only by half."

"So... you're only..."

"I'm half alive. Or, rather, half dead. I have a small golden core, despite the ritual that's been performed on me, but mother was afraid to let me cultivate it, so I have not." A sad smile. "I wish I had."

Wei Wuxian stares - at her, through her. She's here but she's not. She's always been, she's never been at all.

"This is the truth. I respond to songs for the dead because I am." Her smile appears lopsided now, uncanny, "And I know you've been too."

[appreciatingtokrev]

hello, i am happy that you're back and feeling better! ^^

er, i am a bit disappointed but since time had passed, i have realised it was the right move. that is sad but if both parties naturally drift apart, there is always a chance for it to rekindle later on even if it is years on in the future. but moving on does tend to be the less messer route despite it being hard.

i did that too for HSR, all players are probably guilty of that lol. i believe most fans prefer GI over HSR and there is a lot more GI contents on here. i've never played HI so i don't know the fight mechanics 😭

that sound like such a long system ;-; on my end, you could complete a five year degree (like medicine) and be finish before 24/25 or do a three years degree and a master on top before 23/24. at least you still have time to figure things out.

that is true and a part of koko probably died after the fire incident, he probably just needed mikey's approval to join though.

tbh, i just realised his colour palette (outfit/appearance) is really nice too and does contrast xiao's one. maybe, browse online for inspiration? or go to the hair salon and ask the staff? i did that for dying my hair, they said i need to bleach it 4 times where i went lmao.

but i've heard the anime/manga merchandise is pretty cheap in Japan? that is a nice start to your collection and i'm sure the tokrev dolls will be a nice finishing touch when you feel motivated enough. but don't force yourself. i think if she was a kpop fan, i would found it less shocking because they are something else lol. that is a sensible idea and others may mistake it for a bell's bike? if it jingles that loudly and you're walking behind them. i hope you are ready then, styling wigs does seem to be a craft of art in making.

have you found your birthday twin yet? or am i still the closest one? and i actually gave up on makima. the fanart is something else but you can't help but feel intrigued like you said. i dislike her for the same reason. that's great! have you tried taking it to a tailor and get the sleeves shortened? i did it for a blazer and it worked.

ah i’m glad, me too! :) <3

i very much understand. it hurts, but sometimes the right thing to do just isn’t what initially makes you the happiest,, and it’s still for the best.

hm, true. maybe one day lol. rn we see each other maybe twice a year, and go visit a museum together. it’s nice, but certainly not how i pictured my life a few years ago haha. tho i’m content with our relationship the way it is, i think.

understandable understandable lol. i think my pref for genshin does stem from me having played it for longest by far + it being the game that got me into gaming, which both ends in an obvious bias. but hsr has been v fun so far as well! honkai impact fight mechanics are more similar to genshin than to hsr, but the controls for the whole game don’t involve the mouse, only the a, s, d, w, i, j, k, and l keys (if i remember the keys correctly- the point is you only need a keyboard to play) lol. makes it easier to play it in class.....

okay tbh i did repeat/got pushed back more than once 😭 most people here probably are finished with a five years degree at 24/25 too, but a bunch each year will be one/two years older bc they had to repeat. and i’m gonna be one of those lol. but yeah, i’m glad i’ve still got time to decide on what to study bc there’s too many things i’d like to do... omg i used to have a classmate who’s a kpop fan, and she pretty much made her locker at school into a kpop shrine plastered with photos and filled with merch lol. she also was the one to introduce me to kpop funnily enough.

true. i’ll figure out how to make it make no sound before wearing it in public, then i’ll be fine. bc i do think the earring looks funky even when silent hehe.

i have a (bad?) habit of thinking i can do anything i want to, so... wig styling can’t be that hard, now can it..... and there’s a first time to everything anyway.

no birthday twin for me, you’re still the closest. if i ever do find one, i’ll make sure to tell you dw lol.

no, i haven’t been to a tailor yet, but i might try that once! i just hope it wouldn’t be too expensive afhjfdj

[folklorelise]

Captain’s girlfriend being the Mom of the survey corps

You are Levi’s girlfriend, and you LOVE taking care of these kids.

  - Background story

As a kid, you grew up next to Levi and his mother’s door. Your mothers knew each other since they used to work together. You and Levi very soon became inseparable. You would always play together during daytime; you would sleep together too because neither of you wanted to leave each other. You mother died when you were four, and very soon after that a farmer came and took you in. You tried to resist because you wanted to stay with Levi but the military police intervened. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to Levi and you were gone. Levi did not understand why from one day to another, you just disappeared. He asked his mom where you were, but she had no idea too.

”Is it because she doesn’t love me anymore?” Levi wondered.

”I’m sure she loves you, don’t worry about that my angel.” Kuchel reassured him while hugging him.

On your side, the farmer told you that he was your father. Your mother had succeeded, somehow, to send him a letter telling him how she knew she was sick. As a dying wish, she asked him to come and take care of you.

”I want to go back! I have a friend there and I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

”I’m sorry but the Underground is dangerous. You’re much safer here in wall Sina.”

Since then, you lived with your father helping him with the farms. Your father’s farm helped feeding the three military branches, so it was important to work hard. At the age of eighteen, it was time for you to choose a career. Younger, you thought about joining the training corps, but you father was against it, so you continued studying and finally began training as a nurse. You worked with Doctor Yeager a lot and once your trainings were completed, you decided to join the survey corps as nurse to help. You were twenty-one when that happened.

Your first friend was Hange. They would come into the infirmary very often due to their experiments. It was the only friendship you made since you arrived - you didn’t know how to make friends but Hange was very sociable, so they introduced you to Erwin and Mike. One day, you were eating with Hange in your office and you were talking about the latest news.

”Erwin just brought in three recruits!”

”Is that even allowed?” you asked surprised.

”Apparently. They were all against it because they’re from the underground. But I’ve seen them in action, and they are amazing. Even more because they had no training. You have to see them in action, because one of them, Levi, is truly a titan slayer god.” Hange blabbered.

”Levi?” you wondered, could it be your Levi? It has been a very long time, but he was only friend when you were a kid. Was he still alive? If so, did he change? Surprisingly, you still looked a lot like when you were a kid (according to your father).

”Yeah that’s his name, and his friends are here too — Isabel and Furlan. They are probably training right now if you want to meet them.”

”Why not!”

You finished your meal and went to the training grounds.

”FLAGON! Hi!” Hange screamed.

”Hange and my favourite nurse!” Flagon smiled, ”If you are here to meet my new members, they are killing titans.”

”Y/N come, let’s find them!”

Hange took your arm and run through the trees and once you spotted them, you stopped. They were good. One of them turned their head to where you and Hange were and for a second, you two made eye contact. He froze for a second but quickly continued to kill fake titans.

”Are you okay?” Hange asked you worried. ”You look like you’ve seen a titan.”

”No, I’m good but I have to go, I just remembered how I had some paperwork to do. Hm I’ll see you later!” you explained before running away.

Once the three of them were done training, they met Hange and Flagon again.

”Who was that girl?” Levi asked abruptly.

”Why do you care?” Flagon answered.

”Just tell me.” Levi urged clenching his teeth.

”That was our nurse.” Hange responded to avoid more conflict between the two of them.

”I want her name!” Levi growled exasperated.

”It’s Y/N, why?”

Levi didn’t answer Hange and just left rapidly. Isabel and Furlan were just as confused as the two squad leaders. You lock yourself in your office, panting a little because you ran to there. Levi knew where the infirmary was so he just knocks on your office’s door. He tried to open the door when you did not answer but it was locked.

”You’re a nurse, you can’t ignore your patients!” Levi yelled. ”Open the door now! Y/N!”

You unlocked the door and opened it slowly. You were scared to look at him so you’re eyes were fixed on his shoes. He gently pushed you inside so you would both have privacy. After a minute or two of silence, Levi suddenly took you in his arms.

”I thought that you were dead,” Levi mumbled, ”when you didn’t came that day, I thought that I’d never see you again.”

”I’m sorry,” you said hugging him back, ”a man came in when my mom died and he said that he was my father and since then, he took care of me. What about you? What are doing here? How’s your mom?” you asked softly.

”Erwin took us in,” Levi revealed briefly, ”and my mom died a few days after you were gone.”

”Oh... I’m so sorry about that.” you said looking at him.

”I’m glad you’re here.”

Since that day, you two spent all your free time together. Very soon enough, you met Levi’s friends. You loved spending time with them, and everything was fine. Until that expedition, where both Furlan and Isabel died. You tried your best to be there for Levi but it was difficult between all the amount of work you had to do after each expedition. So, at night, you would sneak into his room that he used to share with Furlan, but now it was just him. Levi was on his bed, curled up on himself. You would just lay beside him, with your arms around him. You were sleeping together just like you used to when you were kids. Since that day, Levi never let you go back to your old bed.

  - First meeting with the 104th cadets

As head of the medical team, you volunteered to do rounds at the training headquarters because some of the kids were incredibly clumsy. It was the first week of training and you would constantly be visited by Eren. That kid was way too into trainings and wouldn’t mind hurting himself.

”Eren you should really calm down a little bit on the trainings.”

”No! I have to become a survey corps soldier so I can defeat ALL THE TITANS!” Eren screamed determined. Mikasa behind who just grab Eren and forced him to sit on his chair so you could stitch him up.

  —————

  The next kid that you would often see was Armin. He was constantly cold during winter and you would order him to rest instead of training. He would have to stay with you because otherwise, he would continue training because he was determined to pass his evaluations.

”If I rest too long, I’ll forget everything!” Armin tried to explain.

”I don’t want you to get hurt if you work out while being sick like this. You would have to wear so many layers of clothes that you couldn’t even put your ODM gear on.”

Once, you had to come urgently because Armin got extremely sick during winter. And he requested to have you here because apparently, sick Armin is really picky. You couldn’t refuse of course. You took the medicine you had for a cold and some extra blankets because you knew there was not any at the training corps and left. Armin was curled up on himself with his winter coat as well as Mikasa’s on top him.

”Armin, hey, I’m here.” you woke him up gently by sitting next to him.

”My head...” Armin whimpered.

”I know, I asked another nurse to boil some water and. It’s going to get better,” you reassured him, ”here’s some extra blankets I took for you.” you showed him the two blankets and put them on him and took off the coats.

After a few days of intense care from you, Armin started to feel better already. But never enough for him to go back training and once you heard him talking with Eren and Mikasa.

”If I’m better now she’s going to leave and that means no more bedtime stories or anything!”

That night you told him that you had to leave because the survey corps had an expedition, he next morning.

”But you’re not a survey corps soldier.” Armin said confused.

”But I am the nurse assigned for the expeditions.”

”What? But isn’t that too dangerous?”

”I had a lot of training believe me, and I have been doing that for five years now so I think I’m good. But thank you for worrying about me.” you laughed softly. ”I’ll be back in a few weeks alright?”

Armin only nodded and fell back to sleep.

  —————

  Reiner would constantly come for minor injuries or fake ones just because he liked hanging out in the infirmary. Reiner was too adorable for you to send him away. Bertolt would very often be with Reiner, and he would too often apologise for Reiner behaviour.

”I know you must be very busy, We shouldn’t bother you any longer.” Bertolt would blabber.

”Not at all! You kids are too adorable and nice for me to throw you outside.” you reassured them which would always lead to you giving them a hug after. You would remember the first time you hugged Reiner, he back up so brutally that it just confused you.

”What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?” you asked worried.

”No! I-I was just... surprised.”

”Well get used to that then.” you joked before hugging him again.

  —————

  You remember once Jean broke his arm so he couldn’t eat by himself and you had to feed him his soup and bread. Jean was sitting with his friend, but he couldn’t go and grab his food and earlier you had told him to wait for you. Five minutes after, you appeared next to him with his soup and bread and fruit.

”Thanks Y/N but I think I can eat by myself.” Jean said with a grin. You didn’t leave and instead just watched him struggle with his left arm. He would spill half of his spoon on the table but he didn’t ask for help. You took the spoon out of his hand and took a spoonful of soup and blow on it so it wouldn’t be too hot. You put your hand under the spoon and expected Jean to eat the food without protest but that didn’t happen.

”Jean, just eat the food.”

”No! I-”

”Open your mouth before I make you.” you ordered with a firm voice.

Everyone was surprised by your tone since you were always so calm and patient. Jean stopped protestant and ate his food. Once you were done you cleaned his plates and went back to your office without another word. Just before you were ready to go back to the survey corps headquarters, your door opened on Jean.

”Shouldn’t you be sleeping at this hour?” you asked softly.

”I...” he hesitated while blushing a little, ”I’m sorry about earlier. You just — you were just helping me, and I was... a jerk...”

”Jean, it’s fine.”

”You promise?”

”I promise, don’t worry. Now go back to bed, I have to leave soon.”

”When are you coming back?”

”Very soon, so until then, ask Marco to help you eat.”

    - The night of the ceremony

Erwin was delivering his prepared speech, that he had practiced on you and Levi a least a thousand times. You would listen to him attentively in front of the crow. And in the end, only a bunch of them stayed. You would of course see Eren, Armin and Mikasa together. You greeted them and everyone else. You saw Jean sitting alone — you were surprised to see him here since you thought that he would join the MP. Your approached him and sat next to him.

”Are you okay? Where’s Marco?” you wondered.

”Marco’s dead.”

You didn’t say anything and just took Jean in your arms. He rested his head on you shoulder and cried a little.

    - Jean can sleep after Marco’s death

You were in Levi’s office, doing paperwork with him as usual.

”You love these kids too much.” Levi stated.

”What? I like them a little.”

”Oh please. You spent all your free during these last three years with them.”

”It’s my job to take care of them.” you laughed.

”They weren’t even that badly injured.”

”Aw, were you jealous? You just have to tell me and I’m all yours.” you teased him.

”You already are.” Levi expressed with a smirk.

”Oh, I’m out of tea, I’ll be right back.” you warned Levi before leaving, but not before a kiss to your boyfriend.

You walked to the kitchen with your two cups and boiled some water. You poured some water in your cups and left the kitchen which leads to the mess hall. A small figure was sitting alone at the back. You walked closer to that person and quickly noticed Jean.

”Can’t sleep?” you asked softly.

”Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing Marco’s half body just lying there... alone.”

”I know it’s hard, especially because you just spent three entire years with him.” you sat next to him, ”but you need to rest. You are part of the survey corps now and it’s a lot of work.”

”I can’t fall asleep...”

”Go back to bed and I’ll be there, I just have to take these,” you showed the cups of tea, ”to someone and I’ll be there okay?”

He nodded and left. You ran to Levi’s office and told him what happened.

”You love these kids too much.” Levi repeated.

”I’m sorry, it’s just...”

”Y/N, it’s fine,’ Levi reassured you smiling, ”plus, I know how that Jean boy is your favourite so just go but come back to bed with me!” Levi screamed as you ran out of his office as soon as he said it was fine.

Once in front of Jean’s bedroom that he shared with Connie, you opened the door gently. Connie was sleeping on the top of the bunk bed. Jean was sitting on his bed waiting for you. You sat next to him and took off your shoes.

”I once managed to get a guy who would only sleeps three hours top every night to have a better schedule of sleep. So, I think I can get you to sleep.” you told Jean.

Jean had his head on your lap, and you sat against the wall. You started to tell one of the stories your dad used to tell you when you couldn’t sleep. While doing that, you would of course play with his hair because according to Levi ”that sh!t’s amazing to help me sleep so do it”. Soon after Jean fall asleep. You wanted to leave but he had his arms around you too tight. After an hour of waiting, Levi opened the door with a confused expression.

”What are you still doing here?” Levi asked quietly.

”Jean isn’t letting me go.” you showed his arms around you.

”I’m going to kill that boy tomorrow when training!” Levi yelled softly.

Levi then helped you get out of Jean’s arms. You kissed his forehead before leaving him sleep.

”I’m never going to say this enough but you love these kids too much.”

”I do.” you confessed.

”You shouldn’t.”

”I know, they are strange-”

”No. I’m saying this because if they end up dying in the next few expeditions, you’ll never get over it. And I don’t like seeing you all sad.” he explained.

”I knoow, but I can’t help it if they are all so adorable!”

—————

PART 2: here

MASTERLIST

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY ONE || JUJUTSU KOSHIEN

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of injuries + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 20 april

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 4.4k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : nonstandard 

↳ next episode : jamais vu

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, i ain’t confident in this chapter since i started school again, but i hope you enjoy this episode and thank you for being so patient with me as i try to fit tumblr into my schedule with school ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

Destructive Curse Spell Number Thirty-Three : Sokatsui (6:00-6:07) (blue lighting explosion - Itadori Yuji)

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

this is Y/N outfit when she came into the baseball game (blame twitter)

“How much longer are you going to stare at her? It’s creepy”

Snapping out of his daze, Gojo quickly looked up from your sleeping figure to find his stoic student (who was now sitting up) looking at him with a deadpan expression before he turned to look at your sleeping figure as well with somewhat of a worried expression, wondering what caused you to be knocked out since what Fushiguro could recall was that the last time he saw you, it seemed like you were well and confident before he was carried away by Panda.

“Is it bad to worry about my daughter?” Gojo questioned with a hint of a teasing tone before looking back down at you with his small smiling turning into a straight line.

“Student to be exact, but I guess not after what the curses were after,” Fushiguro quietly mentioned causing Gojo to once again, look up to view Fushiguro with a confused expression painted on his face, trying to convey that he didn’t have a clue on what his student was trying to say. “The special-grade was after L/N...but I don’t know why,” Fushiguro instantly declared as if he was answering to his teacher’s perplexed expression leading to Gojo sighing in frustration before taking one of his hands out of his pocket to stroke your hair as if it would bring you some comfort in your dreamless slumber as he then processed to remove his other hand from his other pocket to reveal a carton of orange juice before placing it on the bedside table.

“Is that so?” Gojo asked rhetorically, before making his way towards the door since he was informed that there was going to be a meeting with the Jujutsu Tech principles and sorcerers that were involved with the whole Exchange Event incident.

However, before he was able to grab onto the handle, the wooden door violently flew open showcasing his other students Itadori and Kugisaki on the other side with a box of pizza in hand leading Gojo to smile at them both.

“Oh Gojo-sensei! What are you doing here?” Itadori asked once he comprehended that it was his teacher blocking the way to see his two other classmates.

“Ah~ I was just visiting Megumi and Y/N before I go, make sure to not make too much noise, I’m sure Y/n would really appreciate it,” Gojo answered with a cheerful tone, leading Kugisaki to tilt her head to the side to realise that you were sleeping - much to her disappointment.

“She’s still recovering?” Kugisaki then questioned, leading her teacher to look at her before explaining that you were knocked out due to using an excessive amount of cursed energy within a short amount of time causing Kugisaki to nod to his little lie since he didn’t even know why you were extremely distraught when he came to collect you.

“I’ll be going now, so see you later~ don’t wake up my precious daughter!” Gojo states with a playful tone, before waving his hand to all of the first-years leaving them to themselves with a warm box of pizza in hand.

                                                 ꕥ

“Next up are the casualties: three second-grade sorcerers, one semi first-grade sorcerer, five assistant supervisors, and two cursed storehouse guards. They’re all sorcerers who were standing by at Jujutsu High and working separately from Gojo-san and Principal Yaga. We’re waiting on the report from Ieiri-san, but we’re nearly certain it was the work of the cursed spirit that Nanami-san encountered before,” Ijichi explained as he was looking down at the document sheets he had in hand to inform all the sorcerer that was in front of him about the situation at hand.

“Tsk,” Gojo tutted in annoyance while leaning against the door with his lower face tucked into the collar of his sorcerer uniform.

“Do you think we should share this information with the students and the other sorcerers?” Utahime asked as she turned to her colleagues.

“No,” the Kyoto principal: Gakuganji quickly answered, as the fellow principal from Tokyo: Yaga explained that it was better for this information to be among the higher-ups as he didn’t want to cause anymore panic to the students residing in the area right now as well as not wanting any of the curse users in their captivity to know that a few special-grade objects that been stolen from the school premises.

“Has the curse user we captured spilled anything?” principal Yaga queried, leading Ijichi to explain that it wasn’t hard to get the certain curse user to talk at all since he was quite cooperative but all they managed to receive was irrelevant information that was deemed somewhat unhelpful to them.

“However, he claims that he only participated in the attack because he was ordered to as part of a deal,” Ijicji added, before informing everyone about the monk that the curse user was talking about when he was interrogated.

“An androgynous monk kid with a bob cut? That ring any bells?” MeiMei asked, as she turned her head slightly to peer at Gojo, who was right behind her.

“Nope! We sure he’s not spouting bullshit? Is there any sorcerer skilled at getting confessions?” Gojo answered before asking his questions since he knew he couldn’t be too sure if the curse user was even telling the truth in the first place.

“How did a cursed spirit and outsiders get through Tengen-sama’s barriers in the first place?” Utahime questioned, as she was still confused on how so many people were able to get in without any problems and alerts.

“That was probably the work of the special-grade cursed spirit the students fought, that one has a unique presence. Even though it’s a cursed spirit, it’s incredibly close to a natural spirit. According to Aoi, it was able to hide among plants and was quite burnt from a few techniques like wood would be, and Tengen-sama’s barrier doesn’t function against plants. Tengen-sama’s barrier puts all its power into hiding, not protecting, so once you get in, it’s kind of weak,” Gojo answered his colleague with an explanation that led the whole room to turn completely silent for quite some time.

‘Are they worried about Sukuna’s Finger enhancing Yuji’s potential? Or are they trying to enhance themselves? Why would they need Y/N then? Something isn’t sitting right’

“For now, let’s be glad our students are safe,” Utahime mentioned with a calm smile presented on her face as there was one calm and good news that they would celebrate on.

‘Safe? How long until Y/N is going to stay safe? For how long?’

“But it goes without saying that the exchange event is now cancelled,” principal Yaga informed everyone as he turned to look at the fellow Kyoto principal, who was sitting right near him.

“Hold on, that’s not for us to decide, is it?” Gojo asked in a light tone, causing everyone in the room to look at him in confusion since they didn’t know what they meant by it not being their decision.

                                              ꕥ

“When did you start getting along with that gorilla?”

At this moment, Itadori and Kugisaki were sitting next to each side of Fushiguro’s bed, as they were visiting both you and him, while all of them were munching on the pizza (which only had a few slices left) that was currently sitting on top of Fushiguro’s legs.

“Well, we got along, but like...I remember what happened, but I wasn’t exactly myself then…” Itadori answered in complete uncertainty as he didn’t even know the answer himself, causing him to scratch his head in confusion.

“What, were you drunk?” Kugisaki questioned in confusion since she was expecting a confident answer from her classmates.

“You believe I could’ve been drinking liquor in this situation? I’m shocked,” Itadori mentioned before looking down with somewhat of a disappointed look that his owl friend thought of him like that. “But I’m glad you and Y/N weren’t seriously hurt, Fushiguro. You’re able to eat pizza now, too” Itadori stated with a smile on his face as he turned to look at the shikigami user before turning his head to see your still sleeping figure on the bed behind Kugisaki causing her to turn around to check if you had woken up yet.

“Come on, bring me something easier to digest,” Fushiguro replied since he was still recovering but nonetheless, took the food that was given to him.

“No complaining,” Kugisaki answered back before taking another bite of her pizza slice before snatching the box away from Itadori, who was about to grab another slice, due to her wanting to save the last remaining two slices of the cheesy food for you.

“Apparently, I got off easier because my cursed energy was all dried up, Ieiri-san was still able to fix me up as soon as the roots were removed, but I didn’t know Gojo used up so much cursed energy as well, Gojo seemed really worried when he went to Ieiri-san,” Fushiguro explained before turning his head to glance at you.

“Huh, so that’s a thing that can happen?” Itadori questioned.

“You fought against them, didn’t you? Also, did you see the flowers right above us when we were in the veil? They were so pretty!” Kugisaki commented, before looking up as if she was going to answer who was the person was that released the technique.

“Flowers? Oh, you mean the pink ones?! Kugisaki, those were so dangerous, didn’t you see the blue lighting explosion that happened right after?! It literally gave the curse a whole gash across its body!” Itadori exclaimed in shock causing Fushiguro to remember the array of flowers that were hanging in the sky when Panda was carrying him just before he crossed the veil.

“It was so beautiful though, I hope to see them again, I wonder who it was?” Kugisaki questioned before finishing off the last piece of pizza.

“Itadori, you’ve grown stronger. Back then, we both said our convictions were proper ones, I still think that’s true. Or, put another way, we’re both wrong,” Fushiguro mentioned with a low tone, causing both Itadori and Kugisaki to look at him as he was talking.

“Huh?” Itadori uttered in a confused tone, while Kugisaki processed to rest her face on the palm of her hand with a small pout.

“Some questions don’t have answers, you know. You’re thinking too hard, you’ll go bald,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“That’s right. There is no answer, it’s just whether or not you can accept it. But there’s no accepting anything if you can’t have it your way. Weak sorcerers can’t do that,” Fushigurp replied back causing the whole room to go silent as they were beginning to process what Fushiguro had said in his mind.

“So I’m going to become strong, too. I’ll surpass you in no time,” Fushiguro declared as he turned to face Itadori with a look of determination.

“You never change,” Itadori responded with a small light giggle.

“Don’t just move the conversation forward without me, we need to catch up with him and Gojo,” Kugisaki mentioned with annoyance painted on her face.

“That’s my brother’s friends for you!” 

Suddenly, the first-year trio rapidly turned their heads forwards to suddenly discover Todo sitting down right in front of Fushiguro’s bed with a smile on his face as he nodded proudly of the conversation that he had interrupted.

Unexpectedly, Itadori rushed towards the glass sliding door next to your bed and opened it with a loud bang before swiftly sprinting away from Fushiguro’s room as fast as a cheetah, only for Todo to follow behind him yelling out where his brother was going.

“I’m grateful to you, but give me a break!” Itadori screamed, causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to look at the scene with deadpan shocked faces. However, what they didn’t seem to notice was you softly groaning at the loud noise that was happening right now leading your eyes to slowly open but quickly close due to the bright lighting in the room right now.

Hesitantly, you slower opened your eyes again to see a maroon coloured ceiling before blinking a few times to focus your sight, causing you to gradually sit up on the bed you were laying in as your looked down onto your lap leading your hair to cover your face away from your classmates, who now finally noticed that you had awakened from your slumber.

“Gojo, you’re awake!” Kugisaki announced with a smile on her face, yet that smile slowly disappeared once she noticed how you weren’t answering her at all, but rather you kept silent as your hand began to bring itself to your forehead as if you had a headache.

‘So loud…’

After sitting in silence for a while, you noticed that you were wearing a long white button-up with some black Adidas shorts leading you to wonder who changed you since Kugisaki was the only one to ever see you in your undergarments since she was always the one barging into your changing room to throw more clothing pieces for you to try. However, that was one minor inconvenience to think about right now.

Slowly, you turned your body around (so your back was facing Fushiguro and Kugisaki) before placing your feet down onto the wooden flooring, leading Fushiguro to worry about you falling since you had been asleep for quite some time, yet for some reason, you couldn’t hear him at all.

Steadily, you began to stand up with your hand on the mattress to keep some stability in case you did stumble back before you began to make your way towards the gap of the glass door that Itadori and Todo left through before gently lifting your head up to admire the clear sky from above.

‘It’s warm…’

Casually, your body began to lean on the side of the door to give yourself some support as you began to brisk in some of the light warmth the sun was giving you as if that was enough to bring you the comfort that you wanted right now before noticing how the wind was slowly picking up.

“Gojo, you would really get back in bed, you’re still in the healing process and it’s quite cold,” Kugisaki mentioned as she stood up to come to collect you and guide you back to back. However, for some reason, something was telling her to stop as she noticed how you were not listening to anyone at all - or, you just didn’t hear them as it seemed like your hearing was blocked for any human to human communication.

Instantly, the wind that was picking up suddenly blew out a large gush causing some of the leaves from the trees to violently ruffle from its branches while your hair was now messily blowing in the wind as you leaned against the side closer to maintain your footing before you steadily noticed a few pink petals making their way towards you from your right side causing your eyes to widen in shock.

‘There’s still some more?’

Slowly lifting your hand to the sky, you lightly felt the petal grazed your fingers ever so slightly before they slowly become disintegrated to a flow of cursed energy they were made out of causing Kugisaki to look at them in amazement as she stood by your side, as she realised that more was coming towards you both as if you were a magnet to them leading her to come to an assumption that you were the one that cast the flowers back when she was in the veil with the other students and teachers as she remembered that Gojo mentioned that you had used a lot of cursed energy.

“Pretty…” you softly muttered with a small but disheartened smile, trying to hide the emptiness that your heart now had to endure.

“Right,” Kugisaki answered back as she leaned her body on your side while continuing to admire the small flower show that was happening right now causing you both to not realise that the person behind you had his eyes widened as if he had just remembered something that he had completely forgotten about.

                                              ꕥ

“So anyways, a lot happened and some people died, but how about it? Want to  continue with the exchange event?” Gojo asked all the students who were in the room right now...well all of them minus one.

“Where is Gojo though? Shouldn’t she be here?” Fushiguro asked while standing here the staircase as Kugisaki and Maki began to look around the room to see if you really weren’t here with them causing him to look at Fushiguro, scared about his perspective skills.

“Ah~ about that, she’s moving her stuff from her dorm to my clan’s estate for her safety!” Gojo announced before clapping his hands to the side like he did when you first came into Jujutsu Tech leading everyone in the room to widen their eyes at the news since it was quite unexpected since you seemed like the type to reject the idea since Tengen’s barrier was helping you to be protected - but for you, it was easier for you to hide your family heritage if you weren’t in the dorms much to your dismay.

“I don’t know what to say about it…” Itadori muttered as he was thinking of an answer for both the continuation of the Kyoto Sister Exchange Event as well as your sudden move away from the Jujutsu Tech student dorms.

“Obviously...we continuing it, of course,” Todo declared, causing Itadori to suddenly tense up as he steadily backed up near Gojo to have some coverage and security.

“Your reasons?” Gojo asked as he turned to look at the Kyoto student.

“First, only those with a connection to the dead have the right to mourn them, it’s not our place to butt in there and second, if people have died, that’s all the more reason we need to become stronger, besides if it weren’t for the flower technique back then, we wouldn’t have been able to cause more crucial damage to those cursed spirits. Acquired strength comes from the accumulation of results. Tasting defeat and savouring victory is what leads up to grow, the most important part is for those results to exist,” Todo explained as he became to recall the blue lightning that damaged the special-grade curse to a massive degree which was enough for him to gain the upper ground during his fight leading Gojo to internally smile at the information.

“Todo-senpai’s surprisingly reliable,” Miwa whispered to her classmate Mai.

“Reliably crazy,” Mai answered as she rested her head on her knuckles.

“Third, when a student feels like they weren’t able to bring out their best, it hangs over them until they die,” Todo mentioned with a confident smile.

“How old are you?” Gojo suddenly questioned, as Todo wasn’t even as old as he was and the Kyoto student was already talking about ‘hangs over then until they die’.

“I’m fine with that,” Fushiguro mentioned.

“We’ll win anyway,” Kugisaki stated with confidence.

“It sounds stupid, but he has a point,” Kamo replied with calmness.

“Why don’t you rest, Kamo-kun?” Nishimiya mentioned as she stared at her classmate with a fed-up expression due to the bandages wrapped around his face.

“No objections here,” Panda declared as he was answering for the second years in the Tokyo side.

“Salmon~” Inumaki replied back.

“Will we draw lots for the individual battle pair-ups? I want to see Gojo beat Todo’s ass again,” Maki asked before mentioning you since she wanted to see you in a proper fight rather than the million of practice rounds you had with her causing Kugisaki to smile at the thought as well.

“Huh? There are no individual battles this year,” Gojo unexpectedly announced, causing all of the students from both Tokyo and Kyoto to become extremely perplexed.

“I hate routines, you know. Every year, we put the competition methods in this box and open it on the day of,” Gojo explained before tossing the wooden box to Itadori, who looked up for his permission to take out whatever was in the box which he was granted when the teacher nodded at him.

Reaching into the wooden box, Itadori’s fingers felt one single piece of paper within the box before he carefully took it out to see what was written on it, only for him to blink that the wording in pure confusion.

“Baseball?!” Principal Yaga exclaimed in confusion leading Itadori to suddenly discover that both principals from the Jujutsu Tech schools were peering over his shoulders, causing Gojo to walk out of the building with a pleasant smile on his face.

Once outside, he could hear the commotion from behind as he stretched his arms happily before placing his hands in his pocket as he noticed you were standing in front of him with some distance, while one hand on your hips and the other holding a familiar carton of orange juice that he remembered leaving on the bedside table when you were recovering.

“Going home?” he asked before making his way towards you.

                                              ꕥ

Currently, you were walking towards a certain baseball field after finishing some moving your items to the Gojo clan’s estate with an outfit consisting of a simple white button-up shirt tucked into a long black skirt paired with black heeled ankle boots that you decided to wear for the first time since they had been sitting in the box for quite some time after you had brought them on your last shopping trip with Kugisaki.

From what you could hear from the distance, there seemed to be a lot of shouting going on meaning someone didn’t know the rules of the game or they just been called out and the player wasn’t having it at all.

Opening the metal gate, a few people began to notice you coming into the field leading some of your Tokyo classmates to greet you while a certain black divine dog decided to leave it’s owners side to rush to yours before sitting down in front of you with what seemed to be a happy look on its face causing a small smile tp quickly appear on your face as you began to pat its head.

“Hi there,” you greeted it, causing the dog to bark back at you while its tail continuously thumped the ground as if to express the happiness it had when it saw you.

“Shouldn’t you go back to Fushiguro to play the game?” you questioned it causing it to whine slightly before listening to you as it got up and turned back around to head towards Fushiguro, leading you to look at the side to see if there were any seats for you to sit on.

“Ah, Gojo! Are you going to play baseball with us?” Itadori asked cheerfully, causing you to smile back at him before rejecting the offer.

“You guys already started, so there is no point in my playing, but thank you for the invite,” you stated before quickly taking a seat on the bench behind you as you patted your skirt to stop any creases that were going to appear before spectating the game that was happening in front of you right now.

After a while, you had to admit that watching everyone from Jujutus Tech play baseball was certainly more interesting than the actual official game themselves on the TV screen you see from time to time, while Kugisaki throwing her helmet to the ground after the whole pitching machine incident to everyone being shocked at Momo catching the ball on her broom leading Itadori and Inumaki to shout to Todo being hit by Maki’s pitch leading everyone to encourage her further.

‘What a mess’ you thought with a grateful expression on your face that you weren’t playing in his game for the second day of the Exchange Event.

“Are you okay?” someone suddenly asked, causing you to snap out of your thoughts to look to your right to find Fushiguro looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Unable to say your answer, you nodded at him before turning back to face yourself forwards as you gradually began to recall some of the events that had happened for the past few days before your head steadily placed itself on the middle of your chest as the empty feeling was somewhat still lingering - like as if something was dragged out of your soul.

‘1000 years ago…’

“Yeah...I’m fine,” you answered slowly as more information began to recall in your mind. From how you were sealed a thousand years ago only for the same sealed to be opened fifteen years ago leading to where you were now...surrounded by people that could potentially either keep you safe or do something that had many outcomes, especially with Sukuna residing within Itadori - with relief he didn’t know anything about your real birth.

‘Should I tell Gojo?’

“Gojo...I wanted to ask...have we met before? Like before we met in Sendai?” Fushiguro questioned you with a stutter causing your eyebrow to crook up in confusion leading Kugisaki, who was next to you to look at you with the same confusion.

“No, we never met before, you drag,” you answered, still perplexed on how he came up with a question with such an obvious answer leading you to lift your hand to flick his forehead for such a stupid question.

“Is that so?” Fushiguro muttered under his breath before looking up in the sky with amazement at how far Itadori had hit the ball with his bat while you and Kugisaki did the same.

‘Tiger of the West Middle...still lives up to that name’

Unexpectedly, you heard a childish giggle leading you to turn your head to find Gojo passing the school principals while using his infinity to keep the ants below his feet safe to which caused you to scoff in amazement at how lacked he was to use his technique all the time.

“Let’s go home Y/N!” Gojo shouted, causing you to look at him with a crooked eyebrow before scoffing once again at his playful behaviour.

“Let’s go home,” you whispered under your breath before everyone in the first year stood by your side and followed you out of the field to have a conversation with you before you left to go back to the Gojo estate.

‘Home huh?’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[vidalinav]

Stu(died)-Chapter 3

Summary: Cassian takes care of a sick Nesta

Nessian Modern AU-university setting. 

Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List 

(Rolls eyes hardcore) I am continuing this fic for literally five people. Smh. 

~

Nesta comes to their tutoring session late and that’s the first thing that tips him off. Already his phone is in his hand ready to call 911. He has Nesta’s number in his phone saved. The first person listed in his text log under Nerd. He can always text or call her. He belongs to The Rat Pack in Nesta’s Snap Chat group, and he knows he can always contact Emerie or Gwyn if something is truly wrong. Yet he dials in 911 and his thumb hovers over the call button.   

If she doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, Cassian swears he’ll call.  

Nesta’s never late. In fact, she’s annoyingly early. She practically has a stop watch in her hand at all times, counting every minute she waits. When Cassian comes running in five minutes later, as he so often does, panting with some excuse, Nesta doesn’t even bother looking up from her textbook. She merely gestures to the seat, a heavy sigh on her lips, like she’s running out of time to bore him death even as she fascinates him to pieces. 

Her books should already be splayed onto the table, her pencils straight and neatly lined up. Today, the table is empty. 

He’ll give it fifteen minutes and then he’s calling.  

But Nesta shows up before another minute ticks by. She steps out of the elevator wearing that grey polo he’s seen on her a million times. She lugs her way to him, dragging her feet with the weight of those textbooks he’s sure are in her bag. 

She’s wearing a mask, today, and that’s another thing that sends his brain screeching somethings not right here! It covers half of her face, and her eyes look tired from where they peak above the fabric. Cassian doesn’t even bother waiting for her to settle. Already he’s crossing his arms, his brows crinkling with concern and something like irritation. 

How dare she think studying is more important than her health.  

“Go home,” he says as she nears. Nesta only blinks as if as not understanding his words. The fact that she doesn’t immediately argue is enough for him to start gathering his things.  

“What are you doing?” She says as he stuffs his notebook in his bag, “You have an exam in two weeks.” Nesta sets down her own, it slaps at the table with a heavy thump. Cassian can hear the zipper unzipping but not as well as the cough that roars out of her mouth.  

It’s loud and wet, and Nesta pauses as if to get her bearings, covering her mouth with her arm. She coughs and coughs and Cassian lays a hand to his own chest. He can almost feel how much it hurts, how she gasps. 

Cassian shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta’s brows furrow and she gets that look in her eyes. He just knows she’s going to fight him on this. “I--”  

Cassian cuts her off, “please, save your breath. You’re going to make everyone sick.”  

“I’m wearing a mask!” Nesta argues.  

“It’s almost midterms.” Cassian gestures to the other occupants in the library. He sees one person with their hoodie pulled up over their head, clearly sleeping... and moves on to someone else. A group in the corner who’s standing by a whiteboard. “You want to take your chances with sleep deprived students?” 

Nesta seems to think about that. While she does, Cassian zips up her bag and throws it over his shoulder. It’s as heavy as he thought it might be. Briefly, he thinks of making a joke about how she must have stuffed a body in here, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, given how quiet she is.   

Mentally, he starts making a list of everything she needs. Medicine? He’ll get the pills and the syrup, never mind if she scrunches her nose at the taste. He’ll get her soup. Not the canned. Cassian will buy the ingredients. He’s sure he can make something appeasing. Vaguely, he can remember his mom’s recipe. Beef broth and cabbage and squash. Hopefully she can stomach it. Never mind, the salt will be good for her.  

“Hey,” she whines, blinking up at him slowly, “give me my bag.”  

“Have you not heard me? You need to be home lying down. Not here, helping me study. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta crosses her arms and the intimidation tactic seems ridiculous with her face half covered and her endless sniffling. “You can try, but I’ll just refuse to tell you my apartment number.”  

Cassian scoffs, “I know where you live. I can see your room from the house when you study at night.”   

“Who says that out loud?” Nesta shouts. 

She must be terribly ill if she’s yelling in a library. That’s all he can think as he gestures to the elevator, bags in hand. 

“Never mind that. Let’s go,” Cassian says, walking ahead without her. 

He can’t hear her shuffling though, so he turns back to find Nesta leaning on a chair, holding her stomach. He can already feel himself sighing.   

Cassian rushes back just in time for Nesta to rip off her mask, and move to the closest trashcan. It’s situated under one of the bulletin boards and as Cassian sidles up to her, rubbing at her back and pulling her hair away, he looks to the papers tacked to the board.  

Join the rowing team. Looking for tutors. Research participants wanted.  

He can hear the retching and Cassian reads on. 

Babysitter wanted for professor, transportation needed.

“I haven’t thrown up since middle school,” Nesta says pathetically. She frowns as he hands her his bottle of water. Her nose and cheeks are red and for some reason he thinks of Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa through the storm. 

He feels bad for little Rudolph...

“Now will you let me take you home,” Cassian sighs. He hopes it doesn’t sound like an ‘I told you so’ but she should really be lying down. He lays a hand to her forehead, but she brushes him off, moving towards the bathrooms.  

“I’ll wait right here,” he says, but Nesta moves ahead as if she doesn’t hear him at all. Cassian can’t find it in himself to mind. A sick Nesta is guaranteed to be a stubborn Nesta, he just knows.  

When she gets out, she looks surprised to see him and that’s another look that just proves how sick she must be. It’s a fairly obvious prediction that he’s going to wait next to the girl's bathroom, counting ceiling tiles. It’s a perfectly ‘Cassian with Nesta’ thing to do.  

“You’re skipping class?”   

Nesta coughs again, and she looks perfectly pitiful as she blinks her tired eyes. Cassian can feel his lips frown, and he shifts her bag more securely on his shoulder if only to keep himself from reaching out for her. Already he can feel his hands bunch into fists because he wants to grab her own and squeeze it until she's reassured. He wants to hug her until she feels better.  

But he can’t.  

Cassian lists every action he wants to do. Kiss her forehead where Nesta rubs her hand, because she must have a headache from how sick she is. Put on her favorite movie, so she can fall asleep to its sound. Run to every store, raiding every Walgreens and CVS until he comes back with a pharmacy.  

What might she allow now that she’s sick? Will she let him fuss like he wants to?  

But Nesta rolls her eyes in that haughty way of hers. “You can’t do that.”   

“I can’t do what?” Cassian asks and he wonders if she can read his thoughts. If she studies him so well, reads him like one of her textbooks, memorizing facts and facial features.  

“You can’t skip class,” she argues. “Why am I tutoring you if you’re going to skip class?”  

At the words, all Cassian wants to do is sigh. She’s thinking about attendance at a time like this...   

“Nesta, there is no class more important than you.” 

Her brows crinkle at the center like she’s going to start arguing, but Cassian allows himself one touch. He places his thumb there, between her brows, smoothing out the lines. Nesta rips away, blinking up dazed and all too confused. Cassian would laugh at the look, if he didn’t need the distraction.   

He juts his head to the elevator quickly. “Let’s go. We can walk slow, so don’t overexert yourself.”   

Nesta scrunches up her nose, so cute and red, but she follows him anyway albeit a little petulantly. She holds her hand out for her bag, but Cassian turns toward the doors, pretending not to see.   

“How does me being sick make you bossy?”   

Cassian doesn’t dare to respond. He doesn’t know whether he’ll admit that he wants to take care of her, that’s he’s so worried a knot twists in his stomach, or if he’ll make some joke, he knows will make her mad. Maybe that’s the better option, he thinks. He can handle a mad Nesta. He likes a mad Nesta, but a Nesta who so easily rejects him?   

Cassian doesn’t know about that.   

“You don’t have any classes left this week, right?”   

Nesta coughs into her sleeve before answering. Though she means to sound queenly, she only sounds sick, “you know where I live, and you also know my class schedule... seems suspicious if you ask me.”   

“I’ve known you for two years.” 

“And murder victims are three times more likely to be killed by someone they know." 

Cassian huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “Do you still go to sleep watching SVU? Or have you switched to Lifetime movies where the babysitters always try to kill the wife?”   

“People should be wary about the people they know,” Nesta shrugs as if that’s answer enough.   

Cassian snorts, “well you don’t have to be wary of me.”   

As the elevator doors open, Cassian gestures for her to go first and Nesta does, but not before crossing her arms.   

“That’s just what a murderer would want me to think.” She squints as if dissecting him, limb by limb. “You kill me, and I’ll haunt you. You won’t be able to sleep at night without thinking of me.” 

Too late, Cassian thinks.  

It’s much too late for that.  

~

Rudolph has the patience of a five-year-old when she’s sick. Cassian learns this fairly quickly when he runs inside a Walgreens on their way to Nesta’s apartment.  

There’s a bench that she can sit on, where she can wait if she feels tired, but no. Nesta decides she needs to run errands. She has an entire basket filled by the time he finds her again. She’s by the greeting cards, holding three open at a time. Cassian huffs with a receipt and medicine in hand.  

“Here,” he says, giving her the cough medicine. “Take some of this.”  

Nesta doesn’t even bother with pouring. He watches as she rips the cap away, taking a swig right out of the bottle, gulping it down.  

“That’s way more than the suggested amount,” he cries, “you can get drunk on this stuff!”  

“Good, maybe I’ll forget this day ever happened.”

Cassian sighs... it seems all he does is sigh when she’s like this. A sick Nesta is a petulant, irritated Nesta with a permanent furrow between her brows. 

“I know you feel sick,” he tries to placate, “but I bet you’d feel a whole lot better if we get you home as soon as we can... so you can lie down and sleep.”  

Nesta only picks up another Halloween card. She ignores his suggestion, laughing under her breath as she reads whatever inane joke is written there. Soon, she’s coughing though, and Cassian reaches for the basket just to stop himself from rubbing a hand down her back, combing his fingers through her hair.  

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, his thoughts scream.  

Cassian looks to the contents to distract himself from her watery eyes, and that’s when he notices what she’s grabbed. It seems that while he was in the cold and flu aisle, Nesta was raiding the snacks. 

“What is this?” He gestures to the basket. Two boxes of cereal. Caramel corn. Baked Lay’s and cans of Arizona tea. Cassian takes one and holds it up. “Really Nesta?”  

“What it’s green tea!” she argues, shoving another card back in its slot.   

“This is all... junk,” he tries to explain, but Nesta’s already glowering. 

“Look I don’t question your decisions. You don’t question mine.”  

Cassian gives her a bland look. “You question my decisions all the time. Before we came in here, you literally said ‘why are we going in here, Cassian? Weren’t you supposed to take me home.’ You said that.”

Nesta simply raises her chin, pulling out another card. “I recall no such thing.” 

“Fine,” Cassian grumbles, “if you want to eat yourself to an early grave and ignore everything that could potentially make you feel better than that’s just fine with me.”  

“Good,” she says, putting back the other cards. Nesta settles for a pop-up that sings Monster Mash when she opens it. She sets it in the basket he holds, walking ahead without even looking back. “I’m ready to check out.”  

“Really?” Cassian jokes, mockingly. “Are you sure you raided the candy aisle?” 

Nesta stops in her tracks, peering through the section with printer ink and paper as if she can see the other side. He swears he’d facepalm if he wasn’t carrying all this stuff. 

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. 

“Wait!” Cassian calls. “Where are you going? Nesta!”  

Too late. He can already hear crunching bags. 

The variety packs.  

Cassian sighs, lugging their things to the aisle next door. 

~

“Can I use these vegetables?” Cassian asks, as Nesta shoves open the door to her room. He’s surprised she’s not still by the freezer. When they first get back to her place, she sticks her head in there and he wonders if he should suggest taking her temperature, or if she’s doing it just to show him she’s annoyed.  

Perhaps her ears bleed from the sound of his voice.  

That seems like something Nesta would say.  

“They’re Emerie’s. Why?”

“To make soup,” Cassian explains, rifling through the contents. There’s zucchini and summer squash. Onion, fresh parsley and carrots. Cabbage and lettuce. Fresh fruit. He can make a nice stew out of this.  

Nesta scoffs, “I don’t need soup.”  

She enters her room, shoving the door back behind her until it leaves only a crack.  

“You can leave now,” she yells. “I’m home like you wanted.”  

“Are you lying down?” He asks, crossing his arms sternly though she can’t see him.  

Nesta sighs loudly, “you’re annoying!”  

“Maybe if you got some rest, I’d be less annoying,” Cassian sings brightly.  

He can hear the soft sound of her voice. “Doubt.”  

Cassian shakes his head with a smirk. He opens his snapchat where The Rat Pack is the first on the list, but the group name has changed... to People I Tolerate.

That’s got to be Nesta.  

Cassian laughs under his breath and types. Can I use your vegetables? Making Nesta soup.

Emerie’s bitmoji pops up at the bottom, but the person who texts back first is not Emerie, but Gwyn.  

You’re at our house?

Cassian can almost hear her voice. Stern and cautious. He’s almost certain she doesn’t like him. Gwyn looks at him with even more disdain than Nesta when he's around. That stay away from my friend look.  

He sighs. Yes, Nesta’s sick.  

Gwyn’s quick to respond. I can come home early. I need to drop off a paper, but I can be there in 30.  

Cassian rolls his eyes and types, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.  

Nesta’s face pops up. I can take care of myself.  

“No, you can’t!” Cassian yells.  

“Yes, I can!” Nesta yells back, but then she starts coughing again and he can hear her groan in the other room. Cassian raises a brow at her door.  

I’m going to make soup. I’ll make enough for all of you, but can I use stuff from the fridge? I’ll replace it all.  

Emerie’s face pops up and then disappears quickly. He’s about ready to go to the store himself or at least next door to the House, but Emerie’s text appears.  

I have no objections to this.

Cassian smiles in relief, and he’s about to set down his phone when another notification appears. It’s Emerie again.  

And if you make good soup, you can stay indefinitely.  

Cassian sends a winking emoji. Nesta sends back the emoji with the straight mouth and eyes. Before he can frown at what that means, Cassian sees that the group name has changed... to Three’s Company.  

That’s got to be Gwyn.  

Stone cold, Emerie texts back.  

Cassian decides he’s going to ignore that for the moment and focus on the objective at hand.  

Soup.  

Cassian pulls out the vegetables and looks through the cupboards. Emerie, it seems, has all the good spices. He finds the broth packets stored in the back, and he pulls out some beef from the freezer. It’ll need to defrost but he can start the broth now, get the vegetables soft, and brown the beef later. It’ll take a couple of hours anyway.  

Occasionally, he hears a cough as he works. Then a sweet laugh... followed by a cough and a groan. Cassian feels bad for her he does, but he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing. She should be resting and yet she seems to be wide awake.  

Nesta doesn’t come out of her room though. It’s as if he’s not even there, and he takes that time to look over her shared apartment. There are three doors, each with a letter at the front. The N is blue, the E, green, and the G, pink. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to have a living room that looks like all three, but somehow it works. It’s studious and bright. Colorful, but subdued. There are way too many throw pillows and books scattered everywhere, but there’s also a TV with a fireplace under it. He can just imagine Nesta laughing at scary movies. Some slasher fic she’ll watch like she’s taking notes.  

He can imagine Nesta everywhere, in fact.  

This is where she eats. Where she sits. Where she studies. This is where she trips over shoes if they’re not neatly lined up and where she complains about dirty dishes. This is where she cooks... if she does cook. Cassian doesn’t know.  

Maybe he’ll get to find out one day.  

Once the water starts boiling and the meat is in the microwave to defrost, Cassian goes to check how Rudolph is doing.  

He knocks on her door lightly, pushing it open. “Nesta?”  

Cassian’s never seen her room before, say for when she sits by the window with her curtains wide open, and just like then, it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now. But Nesta’s plopped on top of her bed, tucked beneath her blue comforter, and she sets down her phone when he appears at the door.  

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There are also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster? Cassian holds it up.

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her.

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.  

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?”

Nesta coughs out her response.

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like to be coddled by anyone.

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack.

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?”

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.”

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here. Wear my sweatshirt.”

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”  

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.  

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes, and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes.

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this.

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns.

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.  

“Stop laughing,” she whines, “I’m being serious.”  

“Yes, you’re being very serious.” He can’t help his smirk as he gazes up at her. He doesn’t even realize he’s on her bed, sitting to the side of her all bunched up in red. Her nose to the fabric. He almost wants to say she looks cute in his hoodie, all sick like that, but he knows she’ll only bite at him, remarking about how he has some weird fetish for sick girls. 

Cassian holds back a laugh as he hears the microwave ding. He needs to turn the meat around, so it doesn’t cook through, but Nesta grips his arm. His head whips towards her and... Nesta’s gazing up at him. Her eyes are a soft blue. Just like her room.  

“You’re warm,” she says. To explain herself, he thinks, and why she holds him as if she doesn't want him to move.   

Cassian’s lips raise lightly, and he places the back of his hand on her forehead. “You must be worse than you’re letting on if you're okay with me being in your bed.”  

Nesta scoffs, “you’re on it. Not in it. I’ll make that distinction very clear.”  

“You can’t be that sick then,” Cassian shrugs, smiling. “If you’re making everything sound like a tutoring session.”  

Her cheeks flush a bright pink and Cassian thinks she must have a fever. He wonders if he should search for an ice pack or make one, so she doesn’t get too hot.  

“Are you tired?” He asks, noting how slowly she blinks. “You did drink a lot of cough syrup.”

“I also took a NyQuil,” she says, closing her eyes.  

Cassian huffs, “remind me to teach you how read warning labels when your fully coherent.”  

He can hear the microwave ding again, and it reminds him of an alarm. Wake up! It seems to say. Being in Nesta’s room does feels like falling asleep. Rather dream-like and hazy. The microwave dings incessantly, but Cassian doesn’t want to wake up just yet. 

Her hand is still on his arm. It’s so much smaller than his and he wants to trace the skin there and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Cassian doesn’t dare look at her, in case she doesn’t just bang together two loud cymbals and tell him to get up and out and away. 

Cassian looks ahead instead, fixing his gaze on the stuffed lobster on her desk.  

“Nesta,” he starts and then swallows. He feels nervous, his hands clammy. “Nesta, I really think you and I... we’d be good together.”  

Cassian takes a breath, and he stares at the lobster as if it’s her face. “We’ve known each other for a long time now and I... I haven’t hid how I feel about you.” His heart is beating way too fast, and he doesn’t feel any freer from speaking the words, but Cassian decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I thought maybe... we could try it out. See if you might be comfortable with it. If you might like me... too?”  

He doesn’t know why he words that like a question, but Nesta doesn’t say a word. Cassian looks back, hoping there’s no disgust in baby blue. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she just outright says he’s trash and she’ll never like him. 

But Nesta’s fast asleep.  

Cassian doesn’t bother sighing as he grips her limp hand, setting it on the blanket. He doesn’t bother being disappointed when he tucks the comforter around her. Her cheeks are a lobster-red and he rubs a thumb lightly there, wondering what it would be like to hold her face in his palm and kiss at her nose. Would she complain as he pecked her lips? You’ll get sick Cassian.  

Then we can stay in bed together, Nesta.  

No. Cassian’s not disappointed at all. 

He’ll tuck away his dreams where tomorrow lives. 

Today, he’ll stick to what he’s good at, so Cassian heads to the kitchen to make soup.

~

~ ~

~

~

Mwahahahaahah

~

In case you missed, here’s the stuffed lobster in the flesh.

~

Tagged: 

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430​

~

"Why am I still writing this fic?" I say angrily, as I angrily type it in my angry word document.

[nationalharryleague]

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU 

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away) 

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand 

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth​ @bfharry​ and @hardcandy-harry​ for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!! 

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of  Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of  bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.  

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”  

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care.  She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a  random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart. 

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.” 

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral.  Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

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