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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

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Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes”

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago.

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements.

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin.

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you.

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous.

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself.

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear.

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin.

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback.

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-”

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not.

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless.

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing.

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity.

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?”

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?”

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well.

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring.

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you.

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth.

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?”

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already.

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly.

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak.

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down.

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all.

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you.

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear.

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name.

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight.

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination.

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water.

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way.

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him.

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably.

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.”

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night.

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case.

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm.

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you.

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of.

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside.

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone.

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world.

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line.

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess."

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you.

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more."

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.”

“Yeah. see you.”

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it.

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process.

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure.

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit.

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants.

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit.

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock.

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you.

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend.

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure.

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second.

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out.

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly.

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away.

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours.

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower.

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another.

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more.

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes.

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot.

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets.

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more.

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee Reasons behind seeking help: 1. Changes in behavior 2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares 4. Mild panic attacks

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table.

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.”

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight.

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.”

You nod understanding his point of view.

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks.

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe?

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers.

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair.

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin.

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything.

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door.

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend.

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests.

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll.

You almost coo at the sight.

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one.

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby.

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend.

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight.

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside.

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly.

Her cuteness makes you giggle.

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind.

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians.

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.”

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features.

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.”

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat.

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair.

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head.

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?”

Sua stays silent.

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones.

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth.

The change is welcomed anyway.

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it.

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet.

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question.

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer.

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing.

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies.

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds.

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well.

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung.

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung.

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?”

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad.

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes.

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods.

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?”

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.”

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly.

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.”

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him.

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk.

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months.

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.

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prettyboykatsuki · 9 months ago

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hi everyone!! as i've been posting, i will be participating in the fics for gaza fundraiser @ficsforgaza!! this is the masterpost with more information about that + the wips you all voted for.

because i am writing three full fics, i will work on whichever fills up the fastest and move from there. when all three wips are sponsored, i'll temporary close until all fics are completed before moving onto the next.

once all wips is fully sponsored (and written!), i will switch out the spot with another fic on the poll. i want to see how much money we can raise together

rate : 1$ = 100 words (10 dollars = 1k words, etc)

to participate : make a donation to a vetted fundraiser and submit to me a screenshot of your donation. please make sure to censor all personal information! in your submission, please also make sure to include what fic you'd like me contribute to.

i will not be taking money to make donations myself, please donate through the vetted fundraisers instead.

note: these screenshots are to verify that multiple donations aren't used for the same writer

here is a link to the vetted fundraisers!!

omega reader x alpha bachira (est wc 13k) ✔️ (SPONSORED)

thinking of yourself as a failure of an omega with inconsistent heats and general aversion to most alphas, you tend to stay away from alphas altogether. you find them shallow and unpleasant. it is a very, very difficult realization when you realize your very best friend in the world, bachira, is not an omega like you but an alpha through and through.

current wc: 0 / 13,000

words sponsored: 13,000 / 13,000

alpha deku x omega reader (est wc 14k) ✔️ (SPONSORED)

your childhood friend bites your nape and bonds you in the middle of your first heat, creating a painful rift in your relationship that needs to be mended before there are long term consequences. angst w a happy ending.

current wc: 0 / 14,000

words sponsored: 14, 100 / 14,000

megumi sex pollen (est wc 12k) ✔️ (SPONSORED)

a mission in osaka goes very very wrong and you are miles and miles away from condoms, common sense, and rescue. pwp

current wc: 0 / 12,000

words sponsored: 12,000 / 12,000

#aristotle.txt #fics for gaza #info post #a.donation

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daitranscripts · 4 months ago

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Trespasser Conversation

Cole

Trespasser Masterpost Cole Masterpost

Cole: Hello.

Cole made more human Cole: Being this, being me… it’s harder, but better. I like me. Maryden laughs at things I say.

Cole made more spirit Cole: When this is done, I will slip back safely, a spirit. Someone is hurting. He needs me to remember who he is.

Blackwall freed/made Warden Cole: Rainier. Rainier. Rainier. It still hurts, but you helped make it better. He can mend it now.

??? Cole: “The bone must be broken to set.” She wants a wall to keep the dreams away. Ignorance is a disease. She is the cure.

General

Cole: Sometimes the cow takes your gold.

Cole: It was the same boy. His mother on the ship, his father in their homeland. He grew up lonely, or didn't.

Cole: She killed the girl to save herself. She thinks about the eyes going black. A weapon is an order, not a gift.

Cole: It always had a soul. The question is the answer.

Cole: He died in the darkness so a blue rose could bloom.

Cole: Bare-faced but free, frolicking, fighting, fierce. He wants to give wisdom, not orders.

Cole: They made bodies from the earth, and the earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget.

Cole: He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

Cole: Her name is different now. Victoria. The old name slips away, further each time. She’s glad you’re here.

Cole: He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

Cole: His friend had to die, because he thought they were people. A slow arrow breaks in the sad wolf’s jaws.

Cole: If you leave and come back, the chest gives you another. That’s how we know too much.

Cole: The guardian spirits stayed, not bound but biding, because he asked. He knows how to speak so spirits listen.

Cole: The spirits have fled, flying, fluttering, fast to the farthest Fade. They’re afraid of the Veil tearing again.

Cole: Your hand hurts. A heartbeat, not yours, hammering the beat of a song in its final verse. I’m sorry.

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sha-biest · 2 years ago

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Masterpost

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#Izzy Isabella Hamato: Donnie’s and Kendra’s lab accident child [Relationships] #Angenlo [Mikey x Gen] | #Leoichi [Leo x Yuichi] | #Kendratello [Donnie x Kendra] | #Rasey [Raph x Cassandra]

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Chosen Family” [hiatus] [Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - AU] Summary: Splinter is struggling with his four newly acquired Turtle babies and comes across Carol. Although their first meeting is more than bumpy, they find out that they have a lot more in common as parents and Carol realizes quickly that she can’t toss the family out of her apartment. Their Co-parenting adventure begins! #ChosenFamilyAU

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •• “Mom, I can explain” [finished] [Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - Post Movie - Prequel to “Golden Future”] Summary: Leo got pulled from the portal of the prison dimension and with their home wrecked April sees no other choice but to call her Mother for help. Everyone is injured and tired and Carol is there to mend some of their wounds- physically and emotionally.

CW: Blood/Injury, Hurt/Comfort

#MomIcanexplain

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •• “Dragonous” [discontinued] [Villainous - AU] Summary: Everybody is turned into dragons, lizards or other mythical creatures. Dragons are extinct in Flug's time and nobody knows why. He wants to be the one to find out and in his mad quest, ends up traveling to the past. GENERAL INFORMATION Art Program: Paint Tool SAI Tablet: Wacom Cintiq 22HD Language: German, English

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 6 months ago

Note

How long can a bonded time lord be away from their TARDIS?

How long can a bonded Time Lord be away from their TARDIS?

The bond between a Time Lord and their TARDIS is incredibly strong, facilitated by something known as Rassilon's Imprimatur. This bond is crucial for safe and effective time travel, creating a deep symbiotic connection between the Time Lord and their TARDIS. And let's not forget that the TARDIS is a sentient being with its own feelings, which adds an emotional layer.

While there isn't much information established for how long a Time Lord can be separated from their TARDIS, we can infer a few things:

⏳ Short-Term Separation

Time Lords often go on adventures or missions without their TARDIS for days, weeks, or even months without apparent harm. During these short-term separations, the bond remains intact without any negative effects.

🕒 Long-Term Separation

Prolonged separation, however, could potentially weaken the bond or have other adverse effects. The TARDIS might become more difficult to pilot, and the Time Lord could experience symptoms similar to those caused by damage to their symbiotic nuclei—such as disorientation or other kinds of physical and mental discomfort.

However, if the Time Lord didn't 'inform' the TARDIS before leaving, the TARDIS would probably feel worried or annoyed. When they return, the TARDIS might choose to display its annoyance, like a slightly bumpy landing, closing internal doors in the Time Lord's face, or purposely rearranging corridors so the Time Lord has to walk half a mile to the toilet.

🚨 Critical Situations

In extreme cases, where a Time Lord is separated from their TARDIS for decades or longer, it's possible that the bond could deteriorate a bit. The TARDIS could become less responsive or more prone to malfunction, and the Time Lord might experience significant physical or mental effects. Though this is speculative, as we've seen some Time Lords return to their TARDIS after extended periods and be fine.

It's also possible that the TARDIS might be angry or distant upon their return, needing some time, a nice deep clean, or a lovely trip to an exotic star system to mend the relationship.

🏫 So ...

While there's no hard and fast rule on how long a bonded Time Lord can be away from their TARDIS, short-term separations seem to be harmless. However, long-term separations could potentially weaken the bond and cause issues, especially if the TARDIS was just left without explanation. The exact effects would likely depend on the strength of the individual bond, the circumstances of their separation, and probably whether the TARDIS feels properly appreciated upon their return.

💬|🧬🛸How does TARDIS symbiosis work for individuals and groups?: Details on this special Time Lord-TARDIS connection.

💬|🛸🧑‍✈️How to locate a TARDIS pilot: Guide for locating a pilot or other crew members using the TARDIS.

💬|🛸🧑‍✈️What roles would six Time Lords have in piloting a TARDIS?: How having six pilots would work.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | ��Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #whoniverse #ask answered #gallifreyan technology #tardis #GIL: Asks #gallifreyan biology #GIL: Biology #GIL: Species/TARDISes #GIL: Gallifrey/Technology #GIL: Species/Gallifreyans #GIL: Biology/Foundations #GIL: Biology/Medical #GIL

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nialls-gorgeous-colors · 1 year ago

Text

Shawn Mendes and Niall Horan Timeline

Year 2018

JAN 2018 NIALL’S ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAWN’ PICTURE AND SHAWN’S PICTURE OF THEM AT THE AMAS ARE, RESPECTIVELY, THEIR MOST LIKED POSTS ON IG FOR 2017

Jan 25 2018 Shawn talks about The Collab on The Voice: We’re really good friends and I mean, we hang out all the time. And we’re always like, ‘we should write a song’ and then we’re planning on writing a song, and we just end up hanging out. Always. (He said something similar back in Nov before the AMAs.)

Mar 2018

Fans, uh:

Mar 25 Shawn talks The Collab on The Weekend Countdown: My favorite thing about Niall is his sense of humor. He has this hilarious, Irish sense of humor that really cracks me up… How soon until there’s a collab? I have no idea. He’s always on tour when I’m writing, and he’s always writing when I’m on tour. So, one day. Hopefully.

MAY 2018

May 13 Shawn talks about performing at the O2: I mean performing the O2 was obviously just a complete dream of mine –and lucky enough to be able to do 2 nights there. A lot of people who I really love came and saw the show. Niall Horan, who’s a good friend of mine, came and watched me, and that was you know, a very special moment to me.

May 17 Shawn asks the audience at his Apple Music show to send Niall well wishes: Everybody watching online, if you could just tweet at Niall ‘feel better’ that would be really sweet.

Apple does, Niall replies:

May 24 Shawn talking about his most liked IG pic: This next photo is one of my favorite photos. Not because I’m sitting with Niall, because in the background, my A&R from Island Records, Ziggy, is there and he just looks so blow away by something and I have no idea… Also, the girl in between is making a hilarious face. That’s an awesome photo. I think this is like my most liked photo on Instagram, actually.

MAY 27 THE BIGGEST WEEKEND

Shawn and Niall do an interview together for BBC – FINALLY.

Transcribed in full here. Highlights include (via DailyNiall):

Bonus: we know, Nick

JUNE 2018

Jun 4 Niall does an interview with Fitzy & Wippa:

Sarah: Hey Niall, over the weekend… I was watching this thing on Instagram, and it was you and Shawn Mendes. Are you two just a little bit into each other? It was coming across as that you’re kind of obsessed.

Niall: Definitely not. They kept asking us questions that would make us answer it like that. Kind of like with [unintelligible], everyone thinks they’ve got a thing going on. Nah, we’re good mates. Just sat us down and interviewed us.

Sarah: I did hear you say that he plays you demos of his music before he takes it public. Was that true, or was that a lie?

Niall: No, that’s true, yeah. What’s wrong with that?

Sarah: Nothing! I just thought it’s amazing. We’re such big Shawn Mendes fans here. It was nice to see.

Interviewer: And are you brutally honest with him? If there’s a song you don’t like, or you think he could change? Do you tell him, or are you always like ‘mate, dude, this is amazing’?

Niall: Well, he’s on a bit of a roll at the minute. There’s nothing really…

Interviewer: He’s a very talented man. Have you ever thought of doing a song with Shawn? Have you guys actually put lyrics together, or music together?

Niall: No, we haven’t. We get asked about it a lot, to be fair… It’s kind of like –when we’re in the same place at the same time. Like, the other day we were in LA and a group – me and him and a group of our mates, we went to watch a U2 gig. We didn’t like – when we’re together, when we’re in the same city we don’t like sit in the studio together. Which we probably should get around to, but for the most part we just hang out together, to be honest.

Jun 7 Niall talks about Shawn during soundcheck:

and during #AskLateLateShawn: “if you had to create a boy band, who would you pick to be in it with you?” James and Shawn pick Jimi Hendrix, Harry Styles, Niall, and Elvis.

AUGUST 2018

Aug 20 At the VMAs Shawn is asked: What do you think about Niall Horan and Hailee?

Shawn: Niall and Hailee? They’re two of my favorite people in the whole world. Niall is one of my greatest friends. Hailee is one of the first people – you know, when she first started out, I was one of the first people she worked with in music. And I love them both. I thought this was common knowledge? I guess it was common knowledge for me, I’m close friends with them both.

NOVEMBER 2018

Nov 12 Shawn’s voice can be heard in the background of Niall’s InstaStory

NOV 17 SHAWN POSTS PICTURES OF HIM AND NIALL AT 40LOVE TO SNAPCHAT, INSTAGRAM, AND INSTASTORY: PICTURE, VIDEO (PUT THAT TONGUE AWAY HORAN)

DECEMBER 2018

Dec 4 Shawn talks about Niall during an interview with ET Canada.

Interviewer: You recently posted a photo with Niall Horan. And everytime you guys post a photo, fans are like ‘oh they must we working together.’

Shawn: We’re not. Not yet. We will though. You know what, we started really seriously talking about it that night. 100 percent going to happen. Niall and I talk about this pretty much every time we see each other. The truth is that we’re just really, really good friends and we always really enjoy just hanging out. And sometimes you don’t get a lot of time to hang out, so that’s what we want to do, but we’ll get in.

Dec 7 Niall tweets Shawn about his Grammy nom

Dec 8 Shawn talks with B96 about his Grammy nominations. When told to choose between charcoal, a karaoke machine, and a Bentley for Camilla, Niall (“we chose Niall for you…”) and Taylor, Shawn says: Niall’s getting the charcoal – 100 percent, immediately… Niall definitely gets the charcoal. That’s what’s most important here.

Int: I love it, that was so easy.

Shawn: Oh yeah, no, two bags of charcoal.

Int: Why was that so easy for you to say?

Shawn: It’s what he deserves! No I’m kidding. I really am kidding. I love Niall. He actually tweeted out the nicest thing he’s ever said to me ever about the Grammys, he’s just like really proud of me and tweeted it out. Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine, that’s why I’m bugging him.

Dec 14

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veephoenix · 8 months ago

Text

zutto — chapter three | wc: 6.5k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

chapter summary: lia goes back to therapy. When Noah takes her back home after her session, lia's withdrawal symptoms worsen.

tags and trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, angst, conflicted feelings, wet dreams that turn into nightmares, lia goes back to therapy, mentions of couples therapy, mentions of medication and use of it, descriptions of both physical and psychological withdrawal symptoms, heated argument between lia and noah, passionate kiss under the rain.

author's note: this is a hard one that might feel uncomfortable to some, so read with caution. It's rewarding at the end, though 💕

general trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Would you consider my suggestion? It would be very helpful if Noah could join our sessions.”

Lia nodded, still scratching her fingers. She’d been locked in her therapist office for the last hour, and she felt exhausted. With the woman’s unexpected suggestion, her nerves shot up, adding to her distress.

The idea of Noah dealing with her therapist didn’t seem very appealing. He had his own and Lia didn’t want to drag him into this. But again, he was already shit deep into her problems, wasn’t he?

So, she didn’t lie when she told Dr. Reynolds that she would consider it.

Outside, Noah’s car was parked right at the door, and he waited inside.

It was the first time since returning to L.A. that they’d been apart for longer than an hour. Matt had picked them up from Lia’s apartment, spending about two minutes hugging her tightly after seeing her. Lia didn’t cry, and although she looked happy to be in Matt’s arms, she assured him she was on the mend and wouldn’t put them through something like this ever again. After dropping her at the therapist’s office, Noah got out of the car and walked her to the door, squeezing her hand and promising he’d be there to pick her up in an hour. Just as the door of the building opened, Noah called Lia’s name. When she turned back to him one last time, he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her hair. That was the boost Lia needed to face the next sixty minutes.

As soon as Noah was alone with Matt in the car, the questions began to pour out.

“How is she doing? And I mean, for real.”

“What have the doctors said?”

“Is she still taking meds? When can she quit? Why isn’t it that easy?”

“And what about you? How are you coping?”

“Have you talked to her? Have you guys talked about you and… her? About…?”

Noah stopped him there, his face a mixture of fatigue and frustration.

“I’m dealing with this just like Lia is,” he admitted, his voice strained. He was conflicted, torn between telling her he couldn’t live without her touch, that he needed her in ways he had never thought possible, and keeping quiet and giving her the space she needed.

Noah looked out of the window; his eyes distant. He was still having nightmares. In fact, it felt they were just getting started. He was worried sick that they would follow him for days, weeks. Months, even.

Last night, he had dreamt that Lia was straddling him, that his hands were tangled in her hair, pulling her down to him. His grip intensified, perhaps to the point of hurting her, but Lia didn’t complain. Her moans told exactly the opposite. Noah continued devouring her mouth, her lips perfect against his, her tongue slippery against his own. He swallowed her little sounds, hardening against her. When he pressed her down onto his erection, his left hand gripped her waist, marking her. Abruptly, Lia moved away, startled, fear in her eyes. Standing, she lifted the hem of her t-shirt to reveal the marks his fingers had left. With a broken voice, eyes teary, she said, “Noah, you hurt me.”

Noah woke up in panic, accidentally waking Lia, who was sleeping beside him. She immediately turned on the light, threw the covers away, and reached for him. Her hand softly landed on his arm to steady him, her voice calling out his name gently. He didn’t relax until her hands cupped his face. When his eyes, filled with terror, met hers, he began to ground himself in her presence. He had never been held so tenderly. Only Lia had ever been so caring with him, so sweet and soft.

“Noah, it’s okay.” Her voice was hushed, delicate; her heart broke a little more at the sight of him suffering from nightmares. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes, tilting his head a little to feel the warmth emanating from her right hand. Needing her, he grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her closer until he was kissing the skin where her veins pulsed. Her fingers caressed his cheek.

“It’s okay,” she whispered again.

If she said that, while they were in bed together, in the middle of the night, her hands on him, he would believe her.

He would have kissed her and laid her back on the bed, this time closing the gap between their bodies, not letting her stray a single inch away. He was tired of pretending this was like any other time, when they were just best friends sharing a bed. But he was scared. What if he really hurt her?

“Noah?” She noticed him straying away, his mind wandering far again. She needed to bring him back. “We’re in my apartment. We were sleeping. We’re in my bed. It’s ok. We’re all right.”

“Are we?” He couldn’t help and ask.

At the sight of the furrow between his brows, Lia reached her other hand and moved some hair away from his face.

“We will be,” she replied without hesitation. She wasn’t sure, truth be told, but she trusted that they were on the path to mending, both of them, and being there with him in the middle of the night, sharing a bed, sharing covers and warmth, was a sign of that. “Will you—? Will you let me hold you?”

Was he worthy of the sweetness she looked at him with when she asked that question? Maybe. He knew he was good for her. He’d always been. But he was still not entirely convinced he was exactly what she needed.

For now, he would let her hold him until all his doubts faded away.

He fell back asleep with Lia spooning him, her petite frame pressing against his wide back, her breathing caressing the skin at the back of his neck.

Matt took Noah to his house so that he could pick up his car and some clothes. Jolly and Jesse were home, taking the time to catch up on missed hours of sleep. Noah didn’t want to stay long. He updated them on Lia’s condition, drawing a line whenever the boys tried to get too sweet with him. It felt weird to have Jesse wrapped around him, so when he hugged Noah, Noah simply patted him on the back, thanked him for his concern, and assured him that Lia would drop by soon.

After a cup of coffee and a trivial talk with the boys, Matt inquired about the upcoming tour in Japan. Noah didn’t blame him for his insistence. Organizing a tour overseas had required a big budget and a lot of time, so it was natural for everyone to be concerned.

“I don’t know,” Noah replied sternly when Matt asked if they would have to cancel the trip. “I can’t think about that yet. I just need her to get through today’s therapy session.”

Matt nodded as if he understood, but in truth, he was getting restless. If the tour had to be canceled, they needed to start making changes and rescheduling flights and hotel bookings before it was too late.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

Noah lifted his head and shot Matt an almost angry look. “No, I haven’t” he replied sharply. “But I know what she’ll say. She won’t let us cancel the tour, and I’m not ready to have that argument with her. So please, just— Just don’t ask me about Japan for at least a couple of weeks. I know what we have to prepare, but I can’t focus on that right now.”

“Okay. Sure. We still have time,” Matt said, trying to sound reassuring, “and Lia’s well-being is the main concern now.”

“She’ll get through this,” Jolly added, a hint of pride in his voice despite his stern expression, still pained by recent events.

“I’m not giving her any other choice,” Noah concluded. He finished his coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, he was seated in his car, watching Lia fasten her seatbelt beside him. She hadn’t looked at him when she got in, and the distress on her face was evident.

“How did it go?” Noah asked, starting the car.

Lia sighed deeply, letting her head fall back to the headrest for a moment. At her reaction, Noah tried to smile to lift her spirits. “Not so good?”

“No, it was okay,” she admitted, still hesitating to look at him. “She wants to meet you,” she said finally. Her brown eyes met his and Noah’s smile faltered. She didn’t look thrilled about it. “I mean, she wants you to have a session with her, thirty minutes or so, and then she wants us to have a couple of sessions together as…” She struggled to say the words, the feeling evident in the way she drifted her gaze to some focal point on the road ahead. “You know,” she tried, a sigh following her words, her cheeks flushing, “couples therapy.”

When she uttered those words, Noah noticed her shoulders slumping, as if she had just released a weight she’d been carrying on her shoulders.

“Only if you want, of course,” she hurried to add.

“I’d love to.”

Lia’s head turned abruptly towards him, her expression one of surprise. “You would?”

“Of course,” he affirmed. His own previous therapy sessions had probably been far different from Lia’s, but he was aware it would require patience and courage to do this with her. He was willing to do anything, though. For her, he would. “If it means this will helps us get better and strengthen our bond, I’m up for anything.” The sincerity in his words warmed her. She felt exhausted and sleepy, slightly upset about the things she’d had to recall and mention during her session. She had been scared about asking Noah if he would like to attend sessions with her, as a couple. But now that he seemed so willing, so predisposed, her heart fluttered in her chest.

“Thank you”, she whispered. “It means a lot.”

Noah took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “So, one thing’s sorted. Now onto the next. Where would you like to go for lunch today?”

She wasn’t keen on going out, nor did she feel like cooking or letting Noah handle everything, so she let him drive them to the outskirts of the city. They found a cozy restaurant where they could enjoy a healthy meal outside. It reminded her of the times when Noah used to pick her up from school at sixteen. He already had his driver’s license and would collect her every Friday to go somewhere to eat. Back then, he didn’t have his own car, so he borrowed Mike’s, which always smelled weird. Noah would tease her, saying Mike had sex with girls in the backseat, which made her clutch her backpack tightly, worried the stench might cling to her bag.

Sitting at a table outside by the road, Lia tied her hair into a bun while Noah quickly checked his phone before starting to eat. Lia didn’t have much of an appetite, but she made an effort, even reaching for the slices of beetroot in Noah’s salad. Her action earned an offended, playful look from him that managed to coax an honest smile from her. However, after the fourth or fifth bite, her stomach started acting funny. As she tried to understand why, she also noticed it was getting harder to stay present in the moment, her mind wandering away from where it should be. Suddenly, she couldn’t focus on the food. Staring at it for a long minute, she started feeling nauseous and hot. There was a gentle breeze outside, a sign that it was going to rain, but she felt her body’s temperature increasing, her face flushing, which only added to her overall discomfort.

Noah didn’t push her to eat when she told him she her stomach felt weird. Once she confirmed she couldn’t eat anymore, Noah asked for the remainder of her food to be packed away, and they took it home. As she stood up, she felt a wave of nausea rise. Her legs felt unsteady for a couple of seconds, so she clutched Noah’s arm for support.

Her queasiness only increased by the time they made it back to her apartment. When they door closed behind them, Lia’s head was throbbing with a pounding headache, making it almost unbearable to stand the light coming in from the balcony doors and the windows.

“I’m fine,” she told Noah as his worried expression deepened. “I’m just having a horrible headache. It started right after I left from therapy. It’s… really bad now.”

She made her way to the sofa, taking off her jacket, feeling fatigue take over her. She ran the back of her hand across her forehead and noticed sweat beads covering it. She sighed; her vision was getting blurry. She couldn’t focus her eyes—or mind— on anything.

She didn’t notice Noah’s footsteps and was unaware he had retrieved a cloth from the kitchen and dampened it. He knelt in front of her and placed it on her forehead. Lia shivered, her body temperature fluctuating wildly between hot and cold.

“We should check if you have a fever.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his attention and his closeness. “Thank you. I’ll go get changed.” She stood up and moved past him.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” He suggested. “It might help.”

Truthfully, she felt too tired to shower. She wanted to lie down anywhere and sleep, conveniently in an open space, but she feared sleep wouldn’t come easily with the headache and nausea.

Telling Noah she would go to her room to change into something comfortable, he let her go, rising from his crouching position and watching her disappear down the hallway.

It made him feel slightly frustrated, not being able to do anything more to help.

With a heavy sigh, Noah tried to smooth out the lines on his forehead, his frustration growing palpable.

He took off his jacket, dropping it onto the sofa, and grabbed his duffel bag to also change into comfier clothes: shorts and a hoodie. Returning from the bathroom to the living room, he waited for Lia, lounging on the sofa with his MacBook open. There were no plans for the rest of the day. Lia needed slow and he would give her slow. If she wanted to spend hours binge-watching a TV show or baking, he was ready to do so with her. But despite what he’d told Matt earlier, Noah couldn’t resist the urge to check his emails.

Unbeknownst to him, a storm was brewing in Lia’s room; inside of her.

Oblivious to her escalating affliction, Noah hunched over the screen, typing a reply to an email. Meanwhile, Lia paced inside her room, feeling the walls closing in as withdrawal symptoms tightened their grip. She knew what it was, but couldn’t stop it, which only fueled her panic. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Unable to focus, she started to rifle through drawers, tossing clothes aside in a frantic search for something to calm her nerves, her pain. Though Noah kept the bottle of prescribed pills from the hospital, she needed something stronger. The current medication clearly wasn’t enough if she felt this restless, desperate, weak, and anxious.

There had to be something, somewhere. A forgotten blister hidden under her clothes or at the back of her drawers.

With no luck, she left her room and entered the small space she liked to call her studio: a cozy corner furnished with a proper desk, a bookshelf, a guitar that Noah and the boys gifted her one Christmas and that she never played, and walls adorned with her paintings, framed dried flowers, and artworks by other artists.

In a frenzy, she bent down, opening one drawer after another, sweat layering her skin. Dizziness added to her throbbing headache threatened to incapacitate her, but she was determined to find one fucking pill because she needed it. Fuck the doctors. Fuck the therapist. She needed a single damn pill to calm her nerves, quiet the voices, and ease the pain coursing through every inch of her body and soul.

Closing a drawer with a loud noise and muttering curses, she moved to the next one, finding only used notebooks and scattered pens and crayons.

From the living room, Noah raised his head.

“Lia?” He called out, his concern mounting. “What’s going on?”

There was no response. Noah set his MacBook aside and strode towards the studio room. He found Lia crouched on the floor, barefoot, still in her clothes, her bun a tangled mess. Her movements were frantic, hands shaking as she ransacked her space.

“Lia, what are you doing?” he asked softly.

He knew.

Lia avoided his gaze as she stood up, swaying, things moving around her. Ignoring Noah’s extended arm, she moved urgently towards the living room, her eyes wild.

He trailed behind her, his own heart racing at the sight of Lia in that distressed state. He felt a deep sense of fear, a fear not too unfamiliar.

“Lia—”

“What?” She snapped, but her attention was elsewhere. She opened every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, then moved on to the furniture in the living room when she couldn’t find any blister pack or scattered pill.

Noah stood in the midst of her chaos, watching her with growing panic coursing through his veins. He tried to approach her, reaching out to grab her arm and stop her, to make her focus on him, but she shook him off.

“I need a pill. Just one. And I’ll be fine.”

Noah couldn’t discern if she was talking to him or to herself. She’d already taken her allotted dose for the day; taking more was out of the question. The doctor had warned them about this, explained that withdrawal symptoms would eventually come, varying in severity, and offered advice and coping strategies.

But facing it now, Noah felt utterly powerless. Lia wore an expression he didn’t recognize—a dangerous determination that had nothing to do with the resilient woman she was. This wasn’t her. It was the distorted craving of her addicted system demanding what wasn’t necessary.

“Lia, remember what the doctor said,” he began, knowing his words would likely fall on deaf ears. “If you exceed your dose, if you just have one more…”

“Who cares? Just—Fuck. There has to be a blister pack somewhere,” she muttered, moving away from him and checking behind sofa cushions.

She was losing it.

“I need to find one. Just one. I need to fucking have it. I can’t deal with this.” Her voice was tinged with desperation, rising. Moments later, seeming defeated, she collapsed onto the sofa, bending forward, her hands clutching her head as if she could physically squeeze the pain away, a vein throbbing on her neck. “Where the fuck are they?!”

“Not here,” Noah said firmly, not taking his preoccupied gaze from her. “You’re allowed one pill a day. You had it. You have to go through tonight without it, and you will. I know you can do it—”

“For fuck’s sake,” she busted, looking up at him, her eyes red and watery, “cut the bullshit, Noah.” She stood abruptly. “I can’t. I can’t! Can’t you see me?!” she gestured towards herself, frantic. Her face was covered in tears, her cheeks reddened, her chest rising heavily due to her disturbed breathing.

Noah’s heart cracked a little bit more. He swallowed hard. He could see her, yes, but he wished he couldn’t.

“Where’s your bag?” She demanded, her lips pursed, her nostrils flaring. She was barely blinking. She was shaking.

“You don’t need my bag.”

“I do need it because you’re keeping the bottle I was given at the pharmacy!”

“I’m keeping the bottle for this very reason.”

“Noah,” she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. The rational part of her that hadn’t yet been swallowed by desperation reminded her of Noah’s care and determination. The man in front of her would do anything to keep her from harm’s way. However, the darker part of her urged her to convince him, to play nice to get him to cave in, to give her what she wanted. “Please, just one. I beg you. Give it to me. Just today. I promise it won’t be like this tomorrow.”

A nightmare was unfolding right before Noah’s eyes. No, it wasn’t a nightmare; it was a memory: He was fourteen years old. His mother was at his grandparents’ house, desperate and erratic, asking for money to feed her addiction. That had been the first and only time Lia had meet Noah’s mother. Neither of them; not him, not her, nor his grandparents, could have imagined that years later, Noah would be reliving a similar scene, the fear even more intense this time.

No matter how much this hurt him, he wouldn’t let Lia become like his mother.

When Lia attempted to move past him towards the room where Noah kept his bag, he blocked her way. Lia looked up at him with wide eyes, as if unable to believe he was denying her something so vital, denying this to her.

“You don’t need it,” he said.

“But I do, to calm myself, to make everything go away,” she pleaded with a sweet broken voice. “I need it, Noah, please.”

“No. You heard the doctor. You agreed on committing to this. You wanted to get better, remember?”

“Yes, but you don’t know how it feels—how I’m feeling. Noah, please, I—.”

“No. That’s the end of it, Lia.”

It took a moment for her expression to shift again, her frustration boiling over, evident on her face, in her beautiful, big brown eyes. She tried to maneuver around Noah again, her eyes blazing, but he stood his ground, for hersake.

“Let me through.”

“No. Sit down. We’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to fucking sit down,” her voice had grown rougher. Where was his sweet Lia? “Move or I’ll move you.”

In another circumstance, Noah might have snorted, raised an eyebrow, or chuckled. But that day, he didn’t flinch.

“Try,” he simply said.

And try she did.

Noah maintained his position, blocking her path. She wrestled with him briefly, shouting, until she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and knocking over a small ceramic figurine on a low shelf next to the TV, which shattered into pieces on the floor. The sound startled Lia, and the fear in her own eyes transferred to Noah. She was hypersensitive, a sign of an impending emotional tsunami that threatened to engulf them both.

For a moment, Lia stood motionless, staring at the broken figurine as if it had sparked something new inside her. Then, in a sudden shift, she turned back to Noah, her eyes wide open, an ocean of emotion swirling within them. Her anger quickly dissolved into more tears, bigger ones this time. Her desperation remained present; it impregnated the walls of her own home, seeped into Noah’s very soul and heart.

Then, she shouted at him.

“Why are you doing this?!”

She had never raised her voice at him like that before.

“I’m trying to help you,” he replied, his voice strained with effort as he kept it low. Outside, rain began to pour, as if the universe were mirroring the turmoil inside of the apartment, the chaos in their hearts.

“You’re not helping me! You’re making it worse!” Lia knew the weight of her words even as she spoke them, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt lost, as if drowning, unable to reach the surface. Noah’s steady gaze bore down on her, his presence looming large, making her feel small and trapped. Yet, a voice inside her, a remnant of a younger self, insisted that Noah was her anchor, that everything he did was for her sake, for her well-being. This only added to her frustration.

Why did it have to be this way?

Her tears fell freely, splashing onto the floor. Noah’s heart ached and ached.

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t care about this and would let me have a fucking pill!” she yelled, tears cascading down her face, her sobs intensifying. She looked utterly miserable, on the brink of collapsing under the weight of everything.

Noah’s jaw clenched, pain and determination flickering in his eyes. “Exactly. It’s because of what I feel for you that I’m not letting you give up,” he shouted back, stepping closer.

“You can’t save me, Noah. Just—. Stop playing hero. Give me a pill and let me get this over with,” she extended her trembling hand toward him. He moved closer. She moved back. Irony hung heavy in the air.

Her bare feet were dangerously close to the shattered pieces of the figurine. Noah swiftly grabbed her wrist to prevent her from stepping on them, but it only fueled her anger. She wrenched herself free, determined to continue her search, with or without Noah’s help.

“Lia, for God’s sake!” Noah voice rose as he made attempt to grab her again. “Will you stop? Look at your feet!”

But she paid him no heed, only shouted back at him to leave her alone as her bare feet navigated through the broken pieces, her focus solely on finding the pills.

Noah’s frustration reached its peak. He shouted her name, trying to break through her hysteria.

Outside, the rain intensified, as if prompted by their shouting, a torrential downpour that matched the intensity contained in the apartment. Noah knew he had to do something. He strode over to Lia, who was too consumed by her hopeless idea of finding a fucking pill to notice him approaching. In one swift motion, he lifted her, wrapping his arms around her as she struggled against his hold, her back against his chest. Lia’s heart pounded wildly as his embrace caged her in, her protests falling on deaf ears as she kicked and hit him, demanding to be released.

“What are you doing?! Noah—”

“I’m done with this.”

“Noah, put me down! Put me down, I said!”

Noah held her tighter, his own emotions bubbling over. He pushed open the balcony door, stepping outside with Lia still fighting in his arms. The rain immediately drenched them both, the cold water shocking Lia into stillness.

“Let me go!”

“No!” He shouted at her, the water dripping from his face, drenching his clothes. “You want to scream? Scream now!” Noah said roughly, the rain pouring down, washing over them.

He put Lia on the ground, freeing her only for a moment to force her to turn around and face him. Then, he caged her again against him, forcing her to lift her head to look at him, to see what she did to him, to acknowledge his pain and desperation in the darkness that was starting to shroud the city.

Lia fought against him, but when she realized it was futile, that she could do nothing against Noah’s strong hold, her sobs mixed with the sound of the rain, her resistance gradually weakening. He kept on holding her close, his voice trembling with emotion as the rain flowed, soaking them both in its chill embrace.

“I hate seeing you like this, Lia. But I can’t let you do this to yourself. I won’t,” Noah said. His voice dropped, but the pain persisted.

Lia, drenched and pathetic, looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with despair, pushing Noah to his own edge. He tightened his hold on her, their faces inches apart. The eye contact intensified as their heartbeats tried to subside, to sync, struggling to find a rhythm amidst the chaos.

Just when he thought he had heard everything, her next question caught him off guard. Her voice was weak, sad. So sad. Even the rain could feel it.

“Why did you fall in love with me?”

Her anger was gone, but now there seemed to be a void that Noah longed to fill. He didn’t want her feeling like this, feeling like she wasn’t worthy.

No matter how many mistakes she’d committed, how much wrong she’d done; she was worthy. Worthy of entire universes and galaxies.

He couldn’t answer in that moment, though a thousand reasons flooded his mind.

“Your life would be much easier without me,” she continued, her voice a fragile whisper barely audible over the rain.

Agony etched Noah’s features as he fought to maintain his composure.

“Lia… Shut up, please,” he pleaded, exhausted. “Just shut up.”

“Why?” she persisted, her body caged in Noah’s arms, her chest pressed against his. Tears mingling with raindrops streaming down her face. Despite her misery, she looked breathtakingly beautiful to Noah. Her long hair flowed loosely, sticking to her chest and back, framing her face. Her eyelashes held droplets, her lips red and moist, her cheeks flushed. “I’m not worthy of you.”

No, he wouldn’t have that.

“I’ll never be worthy of you.”

“Lia, stop.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

She let her head fall on Noah’s chest, weeping like a child, her arms limps at her side, her knees barely supporting her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should have let them take me and keep me away for as long as necessary.”

“No. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, and so am I—” His words came out through clenched teeth, desperate to make her understand, to dispel those thoughts from her mind.

“There’s so much good for you out there, away from me.”

A vein throbbed in Noah’s neck, her words like knives piercing his heart.

“I can’t keep hearing you say these things. Everything you’re saying is wrong. You’re wrong, Lia.”

“I’m not! Why do you keep trying to see the good in me? What good is it doing to you?”

If he had to show her the good in her, the beauty and all her magic, her light, he would. But now, he needed her silence.

“For God’s sake, Lia.”

“I’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side for the last two years. Don’t you even try to say otherw—”

“Lia, I said stop.”

“Why? I’m just telling the truth. Someone has to because you keep glossing over every one of my mistakes. All because you love me!”

Exactly.

He loved her. More than life itself.

“Lia,” his voice was a warning. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to shut you up.”

“You can’t. I’m stating the facts that you won’t—”

“I can,” he cut her off. With resolve hardening his features, he said, “I’m going to kiss you.”

She froze, her eyes widening, a crease forming between her brows. Her lips parted slightly, raindrops causing her to blink as they trailed down her face.

Noah thought that, with all her sorrow and misery, she looked like a nymph, a goddess.

“Noah,” her voice softened, as if the threat of being kissed stirred something within her. She tried to read his intent in the depths of his warm October eyes. “What if… What if you’re just infatuated with me?”

It was the voice of doubt speaking out, the same one that kept telling her a pill was the solution to all her problems. Deep down, Lia knew Noah wasn’t infatuated with her. He had seen the best and the worst in her. He was dealing with her worst, and yet, here he was, dying to kiss her, to ease her pain.

“You’re crazy if you think that,” he retorted. Then, after a pause, “And I’m crazy in love with you. I’m going to kiss you now. If you don’t want me to, say it,” he demanded, his voice a blend of softness and intensity. “Right now.”

Lia’s breath hitched, her words stumbling. But she didn’t refuse him. Noah’s heart raced, overwhelming need to connect with her, driving him forward. With one hand cradling her jaw, the other arm securely holding her close, he lowered his lips to hers.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he urged, his breath caressing her face.

“I—”

“Say it, Lia. No hesitating.”

One intake of breath.

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, giving in, surrendering.

His mouth descended on her.

One moment she was hopeless. The next one, she was fighting against Noah’s hold, desperate to free her arms and tangle her fingers in the wet, silky strands of his hair. The kiss stole her breath away from the very start. Noah’s grip tightened as her hands finally found their way around his neck, her body arching towards him, rising onto her tiptoes. She let Noah devour her.

Despite the cold and the chill of the raindrops on their bodies, Noah’s mouth was warm and inviting as it claimed Lia’s lips. The kiss was fierce and passionate, a tumultuous blend of anger, desperation, and love. Their lips collided repeatedly, caressing, their saliva mingling with the sweet rainwater.

Under his touch and hold, Lia softened, the storm inside her beginning to calm, all need for a substance that would surely damage her slowly dissipating. All of it was replaced by Noah’s intoxicating kiss. His hunger was evident in the way he kissed her, held her face, and pressed her closer, as if he had been starved for days. Lia clung to him, inadvertently pulling at his hair, eliciting a growl from him that sent a shiver down her spine. He nibbled at her lower lip, igniting a fire within her.

Their mingling breaths created a rhythm, a dance of longing and need. Lia’s hands explored Noah’s back, tracing the contours of his muscles as they tensed and relaxed under her touch. Each moment forged a connection that surpassed mere physical desire, a connection that had always existed between them. The world around them blurred into obscurity; nothing else mattered but the intensity of their moment.

And as Lia gave in to her desires, to her need of him, to this consuming passion, she felt a pang of fear.

It clawed at her, a dark whisper at the back of her mind. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was all just a fleeting escape from her troubles? The intensity of their connection scared her, the depth of her emotions for Noah something she hadn’t fully understood until now, as his for her. What if he didn’t really feel all these things? What if he was confused? What if this love was mistaken by his role as her protector since childhood?

She wanted to lose herself in him, but the remnants of doubt lingered, casting a shadow over her euphoria.

She took a moment to breath, her eyes closed, her hands releasing Noah’s hair but remaining at his neck, Noah’s lips lingering on hers, caressing her mouth.

“What if you regret this?” she whispered. He almost didn’t hear her, but when her words did register, he didn’t react. Instead, he moved the arm around her waist to cup her face in both hands. With a slight shake of his head, his lips brushed against hers as he said softly, “Shut up, Lia. Stop talking nonsense and let me keep kissing you.”

After a brief kiss, with her upper lip captured between Noah’s, he sensed her hesitation.

Noah paused, his breath warm against her lips. His eyes, dark and intense, searched hers for any sign of regret. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored her own, a silent plea for trust and acceptance. Each beat of his racing heart emphasized how much he needed her; how afraid he was of losing this fragile connection.

“Unless you want to stop.”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you want to stop?” he insisted, his fear evident.

“No,” she said, her eyes full of newfound determination, of love and lust, and Noah felt a rush of warmth, like honey spreading through him, “I don’t want to stop.”

Her affirmation washed over him, soothing the anxiety that had gripped his heart. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the unspoken promise that she was his as much as he was hers. As he kissed her again, the world could wait. For now, nothing mattered but the two of them, entangled in each other’s arms.

Gradually, their surroundings came back into focus—the chill of the evening air, the distant sounds of traffic and rustling leaves reminding them of the outside world. It was a gentle reminder that life continued around them, indifferent to their shared moment of passionate chaos.

Reluctantly, Noah rested his forehead against hers with a sigh, immediately missing the taste of her.

Lia opened her eyes, realizing her panic had subsided. She shivered.

“We should go inside,” he suggested, “before we catch a cold.”

“You brought us out here,” she pointed out. There was a hint of teasing in her tone.

Noah’s heart threatened to burst. “Yeah, because it was getting suffocating inside. But I don’t intend for either of us to catch a cold.”

Grabbing her hand, he led them inside, touching his hair as droplets fell onto the floor.

“Shit,” he muttered, freeing her, and noticing the puddles him and Lia created as they moved into the apartment. Lia swallowed, looking around, suddenly feeling lost without Noah’s touch, without his arms around her, with the broken pieces of the figurine on the floor staring back at her.

Slowly, the realization of everything she had done and said to him in the last fifteen minutes threatened to overwhelm her again. But Noah wouldn’t let that happen.

“Go shower,” he insisted, “I’ll wait until you’re done and mop the floor in the meantime.”

She hesitated, searching his eyes like a lost puppy. When he didn’t immediately notice, she nodded and started walking to her bedroom.

Two seconds later, his hand grasped hers, halting her movements and claiming her attention back to him.

“Lia,” he said. His rain-soaked face was mesmerizing as his eyes gazed at her with utter adoration. “I told you; you could get through this. You’re stronger than you think.”

She shook her head. “I’m strong because of you.”

“You’re wrong.”

Tilting her head, she sent a heartwarming smile his way.

“Are you going to kiss me again, then?”

He let out a soft chuckle.

“Every time you’re wrong,” he replied.

“And when I’m right?”

“Same.”

“And when I’m better?”

“More.”

They stood there, exchanging satisfied smiles, feeling as though the rain had worked some kind of magic. In truth, it had just been their kiss, that press of lips they’d been both longing for, a kiss that grounded Lia and brought her back to the person she was and to where she belonged.

“Go,” he urged tenderly, letting go of her hand, “we’ll talk after.”

As he watched his girl disappear into the hallway, giving him one last sweetened smile that said, ‘thank you for healing me’, Noah blinked, feeling a relief and ecstasy he hadn’t experienced in over a year.

— prev. chapter | chapter four 🌶️

#noah x lia #the inevitability of love at second sight #zutto #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction

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autism-autobot · 3 months ago

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FloaPS Facts 4

Read after chapters 18 & 19

Masterpost

Tw: Beheading/decapitation, gory descriptions, fainting, ptsd flashbacks, grief, depression,

During the moon cake making, Wukong's oxygen tank rolled off the table and took him down with it. The entire Demon Bull Family dropped what they were doing and went to help. He was fine, but his face temporarily was an even deeper shade of blue than normal.

Wukong was specifically instructed not to eat the moon cake batter.

He ate the moon cake batter.

He got sick and threw up.

He regrets many decisions he's made in life.

That ain't one of them.

The reasons Wukong wasn't allowed to go with Nezha to his Lunar New Years celebrations:

1. Jing specifically requested it be a family only thing since everyone was still mending their relationships with each other.

2-a. The last time Wukong came to a Li family gathering, Muzha threw a brick at Nezha as revenge but missed and hit Wukong instead.

2-b. Because Wukong had been decapitated so many times in the past (both by heaven and demons he encountered on The Journey), his head will pop off if hit hard enough (being sick only made it easier to do this).

2-c. That, combined with Wukong's beheaded body nonchalantly crawling over to his severed head, was enough to scare the other Li siblings into never wanting to see Wukong again.

3. Li Jing was extremely appalled that Nezha acted like this was a normal thing for Wukong. It isn't really, Nezha's just seen Wukong go through worse and knows he'll be fine.

Wukong once had the circlet activated so hard, and for so long, it sliced his head open and made his brain explode, and bits flew everywhere. Nezha witnessed this.

Wukong has a scar and a deep indent in his forehead as a result of the circlet.

When Wukong hugs DBK, he wraps his arms around his horns and pulls his face in close.

Upon first coming home, Wukong fretted over Red Son's cut, making a bunch of monkey coos and nuzzling his hand. Red Son really appreciated it.

DBK found out the hard way that Wukong CAN NOT TAKE HOT BATHS.

Wukong fainted and had several flashbacks about the furnace. He wept so much his tears stained the blanket Nezha made for him.

The Demon Bull Family takes scalding hot baths and often forget that most people would broil alive if the steam doesn't kill them first.

DBK found out Wukong loves ice baths and will burrow himself in the ice like a snake in sand given the opportunity.

Wukong likes getting baths and hair brushing from his family. It's the closest he can get to monkey grooming from them.

Wukong likes receiving scritches and pats.

The very few times in his life he's had lice, DBK asked Wukong to get rid of all the bugs, and he did.

Wukong's preferred seat is the floor.

Wukong doesn't like to sleep alone while sick (monkey instincts say it's a bad idea).

Red Son loves having his uncle sleep in his bed.

Wukong will sing an old lullaby he wrote for his children with his husband whenever he sleeps in Red Son's bed with him.

Red Son considers Wukong and his husband's singing voices to be the soundtrack of his childhood. That and the cuckoo clock.

Wukong used to write poetry, books, and songs but stopped when his husband died.

Wukong sings on occasion, but not nearly as often as he used to.

@starrclown @swkbiggestdefender @istopaskingmemate @ainnur @then-be-a-warrior @weaverpop @alilcherrysramblings

Part 3

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odyssean-flower · 9 months ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 13 - Summer: Nighttime Perils

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: A terrible incident occurs during preparations for your first meeting with Furina as Neuvillette’s wife.

Warnings: Assault, injury, drunk people Note: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette in Domus Aurea

Previous | Next

“I’ve got nothing to wear…”

Uttering that complaint for what felt like the thousandth time, you flopped down onto your bed, which looked as though your closet had exploded all over it. Not for the first time, you lamented the excess of practical, modest, and exceedingly plain clothing in your wardrobe.

It was said that the clothes one wore reflected the soul. In that case, your soul was fully on display to an embarrassing extent.

You pictured you and Neuvillette standing next to each other. Though his outfits didn’t vary much in color or style, they were always elegant and well put together, befitting his status and position. Meanwhile, with your sensible sweaters and plain knee-length skirts, looked more like the Chief Justice’s secretary than his wife. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, and in fact, it would be preferrable due to the secretive nature of your marriage. But this particular occasion wasn’t normal.

Furina had agreed to the meeting. By Neuvillette’s account, she was most enthusiastic about it. It would be taking place in three days and held in his office.

The bravado you had felt before in his cozy study, as you brushed his long, silky hair, had all but dissipated by now. Instead, you were left with a growing anxiety and doubt that gnawed at your mind.

The chief of them being, Will this go smoothly without any incident?

It was true that your great-grandparents had personally met with Furina (it had become somewhat of a point of pride), but this was very different from a mere appointment to ask for a favor from the Archon. In your case, you were going to present yourself to her as the wife of Chief Justice.

You were well aware that this whole meeting was a chance for Furina to probe at your marriage and more specifically, you.

Anything strange, out of the ordinary, or unusual would be pounced upon by the drama-loving Archon. Therefore, you had to maintain a perfect, unassailable front. You had to present yourself as someone who looked like she could be Neuvillette’s spouse. That started with appearance. Unfortunately, that was the biggest hurdle you were facing right now.

You never had a problem with your wardrobe until now. Sure, your clothes weren’t the trendiest or most luxurious, but they were durable and comfortable, and you took pride in the fact that you took good care of them, mending tears and ironing out wrinkles regularly. You considered wearing the black semi-formal dress you wore for interviews at the Palais Mermonia for the governess license qualification process, but it seemed too plain and austere for the occasion.

As the first person in your family to meet with the Hydro Archon in generations, and as Neuvillette’s wife, you needed to make a good impression.

“Well, your tastes certainly lean more towards the practical, Madame,” Marie said. She was sitting on a chair and carefully looking through your clothes. You had asked her to come to your room as a second opinion. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go shopping for clothes that are more befitting of your current status.”

“A status that I will lose at the year’s end,” you reminded her, but you didn’t disagree with her suggestion. As someone who was raised by frugal parents, you were more prone to saving up your Mora and only spending when it was necessary. That was what you did with the allowance that Neuvillette gave you, but…perhaps the time had finally come to use it. After all, one could make the argument that nice clothes were essential in situations where you had to make a good impression, and let’s face it, Neuvillette wasn’t exactly hard up for money…

The fashionable but expensive clothes that you could only admire from afar until now came to mind. Now, you had the means to obtain them for yourself. You felt little bubbles of excitement in your stomach at the thought.

“I suppose I’ll be hitting up the shopping district tomorrow,” you said, sitting up. “It’s long overdue, anyways.”

“Indeed, Madame,” Marie looked very excited for some reason. “Honestly, Monsieur Neuvillette should have taken you out shopping a long time ago.”

“He’s always busy, so it can’t really be helped. He already gave me plenty of money to spend anyway, so I can just shop on my own. Besides, does he even enjoy doing things like shopping?”

“Mm-hmm,” Marie sounded like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. “In any case, he is in for a wonderful surprise to see you all dressed up.”

“I’m not doing it for him ,” you protested, even as you had to admit that you were curious to see Neuvillette’s reaction to you in clothes that you didn’t normally wear. What would he say? What expression would he make? Would he like them?

You hoped he would. No, you wanted him to.

“Perhaps you could model your outfit for him when he comes home tonight,” Marie carried on, seemingly not hearing what you just said.

“That’s a good idea,” you said. The idea hadn’t occurred to you. And while you were at it, you should have a discussion with him about what you were going to say to Furina. You had to come up with a good story to tell.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you told Marie as you folded up your clothes to put them back in your closet. “You’re always so full of good advice.”

“If only my own children thought the same way as you, Madame,” she laughed.

s you stared in bewilderment at the row of high-end boutiques stretching out before you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were in way over your head.

The low, colorful buildings sparkling in the sun reminded you of jewelry boxes that looked too expensive to touch, lest you leave a smudge on them. The impeccably dressed and coiffed shop clerks standing in front of their doors smiled invitingly and greeted passersby, but their eyes reminded you of the mothers working tirelessly at every ball you had attended—sizing up everyone who walked by and trying to sniff out the ones whose wallets were in need of a little lightening.

But what intimidated you the most was the sheer variety of shops. You were surrounded on every side by fashionable clothing in a multitude of colors, sizes, and styles. Every time you saw something you liked, another caught your eye that you liked even more. This particular district was very different from the usual, more limited selection of stores that you usually visited. Now that you had the money to spend, you were quickly learning that having more choice wasn’t necessarily more convenient.

It would be so much easier if I had my sister with me, or my friends, you thought wistfully , but quickly put it out of your mind. They would no doubt pepper you with questions you had no idea how to answer. You still weren’t sure what you were going to say to Furina yet.

Just as you were standing there, uncertain as to what to do, you heard a familiar high-pitched voice calling out to you. “Madame! I didn’t know you were going shopping today!”

You turned and saw a group of Melusines and, for some reason, Clorinde, walking towards you. These Melusines all worked for the Marechausee Phantom, but they were in civilian clothing instead of their uniforms. Perhaps this was their day off.

“Oh, hello, everyone,” you greeted them. “Something came up suddenly, so I needed to do some clothes shopping right away.”

“Something came up suddenly?” The Melusine who called out to you—Rhemia was her name—repeated. Her expression then changed, and she grinned, as though a realization hit her. “Oh, I get it! It certainly is a very urgent matter, then.”

The other Melusines seemed to have also caught on to whatever it was, as they all giggled. You had a bad feeling that they were under some kind of mistaken assumption, but as Clorinde was here, you couldn’t correct them. “Can we join you, then? We’re also about to go shopping for clothes.”

“Sure, that would be lovely,” you said. It was good to have company, even if you weren’t sure if the Melusines, with their unique perception of color and style, would be very helpful.

Your gaze shifted to Clorinde, who had been standing silently behind the Melusines until now. Her face showed no hint of what she was thinking. It was as though this was the first time you had met each other.

“Hello, Miss Clorinde,” you greeted her, not wanting to make things awkward. “Are you out shopping as well?”

She shook her head. “The girls asked me to come along, and as I had some free time, I agreed.” She paused, then added, “I did not know you were married, Madame [Name].”

“Just [Name] is fine,” you quickly said. “Or Madame, like everyone else does.”

Clorinde had seen you walking with Neuvillette in the early morning, and now she learned that you were married. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots.

Fortunately, she didn’t question you any further, nor show much emotion to the revelation. Neuvillette said that she wasn’t the type to gossip, so you supposed there wasn’t anything to worry about for now.

“Come on, Madame,” Rhemia was tugging on your hand, pulling you towards the nearest shop. “There’s no time to waste!”

The sun shined brightly down upon your little group, heralding the start of a long day.

There is a certain danger in shopping with others, you thought as you trudged back home, hands laden with shopping bags.

You had assumed that you were just going to buy a few new outfits. But somehow, you ended up buying a whole new wardrobe, plus more things that you weren’t even sure you needed, like accessories, makeup, and even perfume.

Despite that, you felt a sense of tired contentment, the kind that came after a long day of satisfying work and ample rewards. It had been a very long time since you enjoyed a day out with a group of friends. It was also a nice feeling, being able to spend money on whatever you wanted without worrying about the price or whether you actually needed it. You now understood why the ladies of the upper class frequented the shops every day. What a frightening slippery slope.

You were certainly feeling the effects of it right now—it felt like your arms were about to fall off. Come to think of it, I do wonder if these clothes would all fit in my suitcase when the time comes to leave. Perhaps I should get another one…

Clorinde, who seemed stoic and aloof at first, was surprisingly easygoing, if not very talkative, as you had discovered during the course of the day. She knew the best shops and had plenty of good advice on what to pick and wear.

She had offered to help you carry your bags home, but you declined. You weren’t sure how much she knew about your relationship with Neuvillette, but it was better not to assume anything.

“I could go and fetch Monsieur Neuvillette instead,” she said.

You were aghast. “I couldn’t ask him to drop his work for such a trivial matter,” you protested.

“I don’t believe he would see it that way,” Clorinde said. “Besides, he’ll be off work soon.”

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Neuvillette to come all the way here just to help you carry your bags. He would have to make a detour on his usual route home from the Palais. He should have a leisurely rest at home after a long day at work.

There was another, sillier, reason behind your decision—you wanted to surprise him.

You couldn’t help but picture his reaction to the clothes you and the others picked out. Would he like them? Secretly, you hoped he would. You wondered what he would say. You wondered how he would look at you.

The thought of being looked at by him, for whatever reason, sent a shiver down your spine. All your life, you had become accustomed to being overlooked, to being invisible. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all. While others had the spotlight cast upon them, you were happy to remain in the shadows, free to do whatever you wanted. True, it bothered you sometimes that you might be a ghost in the lives of others, only remembered as a presence in the background, but surely the benefits outweighed the negatives, right?

But Neuvillette was different. He was always looking directly at you. When you were with him, you felt more…solid. Like you mattered. Like you had some importance in his life—to him. It was wishful thinking that you shouldn’t entertain, but from time to time, you succumbed to it.

After you parted ways with everyone, you slowly walked back home. You weren’t very familiar with this area, but as it was still daylight out and there were plenty of people walking around, you weren’t worried.

Then, suddenly, you spotted a used bookshop tucked between a flower shop and a jewelry store. Your eyes would have skipped over it if you hadn’t seen the store sign.

You eagerly made your way inside and was greeted with the invigorating scent of old books. After saying hello to the owner, you disappeared between the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Mysteries, romances, fantasy…they called to you with their siren songs, but you didn’t stop until you reached the one section you were looking for—the history section.

You let out an embarrassing squeal once you reached the shelf. Luckily, there was no one around to hear you.

The shelf was filled with everything from glossy textbooks to jacketless tomes that went out of print decades ago. Not even the library had some of these books. And they were all at reasonable prices, too… Oh, but I’m already carrying so many things. I can’t possibly buy these heavy books as well. But what if someone buys them before me?

There was a comfy-looking couch nearby that was beckoning you to curl up on it with a book. Well, just one read wouldn’t hurt, right?

You picked a book at random. This one was titled Boethius: Harmost and Villain. It was right up your alley, and it wasn’t too thick. You could probably finish this one in an hour. You sat down on the couch and immersed yourself in its world.

“Miss, we’re closing soon.”

A voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to the store owner.

“Huh…?” you blink up at her, feeling as though you had just emerged from underwater. “O-Oh! I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time…”

You hurriedly got up and reshelved the stack of books next to you. Feeling bad that you didn’t end up purchasing anything, you inwardly promised to come back here tomorrow.

As you made your way to the door, you stopped in shock. It was completely dark outside. How long had you been reading?

Ugh, this always happens. Once you got absorbed in a book, hours could pass in the blink of an eye.

“Be careful out there, Miss,” the owner told you, and you nodded, bidding her good night.

The sun had mostly set, the stores around you were all closed, and there were few pedestrians on the streets.

Luckily, you could still see the Palais Mermonia soaring high above the city. If you headed towards it, you would surely be able to find your way back home. With that in mind, you walked on ahead quickly.

I should have asked the bookshop owner for directions, you thought as you turned down a narrow lane, but you weren’t sure if you could find your way back. The streetlights were coming on, but the harsh, dark shadows they cast made you speed up a little bit more. I could ask it to stop near Neuvillette’s neighborhood and walk the rest of the way back…

However, you saw no carriages around. In fact, there was no one around at all. Oh Archons, I made a huge mistake!

Even back in your sleepy little hometown, your parents always cautioned you to never stay out late. You heeded their advice in the Court of Fontaine as well, very conscious of the fact that it wasn’t rare for young ladies like you to get kidnapped off the streets. And yet, here you were, ripe for the picking with your arms laden with shopping bags.

I’m an idiot, I’m an idiot, I’m an idiot… you berated yourself in your head as you quickened your footsteps, your heart racing. Your earlier refusal of Clorinde’s offer to accompany you home now seemed to you a stupid, short-sighted decision.

I’ll just stay close to the streetlights for now, you decided. You fixed your gaze on the Palais and tried to focus on reaching it. Deep, calming breaths, [Name]…almost there…

However, every time it seemed that you were on the verge of reaching it, a sudden turn or twist in the road would divert you further away from it. Eventually, you had to admit that you were hopelessly lost.

What’s worse, this particular area you found yourself in had a shady air to it that raised the hairs on the back of your neck. You weren’t sure if this was one of the less savory parts of town you had always been warned about, but it sure felt like it. The darkened windows of the buildings felt like eyes staring down at you. Maybe you were being watched. No, don’t be paranoid, you told yourself, but to no avail.

In any case, I have to get out of here.

But just then, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead of you, heading in your direction. Your steps faltered slightly when you saw that it was a burly man dressed in a surprisingly fine business suit. He was swaying from side to side and muttering to himself. A drunk?

Instinctively, you tightened your grip on your bags and stuck close to the shadows. Perhaps he would be too drunk to notice you.

Unluckily, just as you were about to pass him, he called out to you in a slurred, hoarse voice.

“Lovely evening, eh, Miss?”

Even from here, you could smell the stink of alcohol on his breath. His eyes were glazed over, and he was teetering on his feet. He must be terribly drunk.

“...Mm,” you said, giving him a brief nod and not looking him in the eye. You tried to sidle past him, but he grabbed your upper arm. His fingers were thick and sweaty, his grip firm. Goosebumps rose on your body.

“Where ya going in such a hurry, huh? Why dontcha join me for a drink?”

You tried to shake him off, but he didn’t budge. In fact, his hold on your arm only tightened. That’s going to leave a bruise in the morning, your thought distantly.

“Hey, why aren’t ya talking? You a mute or something?”

You pursed your lips and gave him the nastiest glare you could manage, even as you felt your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. Reasoning with a drunk, especially an aggressive one like him, was futile. You should scream for help. The other end of the alley was not that far away. Maybe a patrolling Garde would hear you.

You took a deep breath and was about to let out a scream, but barely a squeak left your mouth before the man’s meaty hand clamped over your mouth. For a drunk, his reflexes were fast.

The man turned your head to look at him. His face was redder than before. It was from anger. “Not a mute after all, eh? Whatcha going around screaming for? I just wanted to have a nice little chat with ya. Why don’t we go back to my place and get t’know each other better?”

Oh no, he’s going to drag me away somewhere! It all felt so unreal, like it was happening to someone else. Fear gripped your heart, and you did the only thing you could do in the situation—you bit down on his palm so hard that you drew blood.

“Fuck!” the man shouted in pain and let out a string of curses. His grip loosened, allowing you to shake him off and run as fast as you could to the end of the alley, which suddenly seemed a whole other world away. You pumped your already-tired legs, pushing them to their limit, but the heavy bags in your hands slowed you down. You should throw them away, but sweat glued their straps to your palms and there was no time to stop and pull them off.

You heard the man shouting curses and his heavy footsteps as he chased after you. He was catching up to you quickly.

Fate must enjoy playing cruel jokes on you, for rain began to pour down heavily at that very moment.

It got into your eyes and soaked into your clothes. The stone-paved road suddenly became hazardous. Every time your feet almost slipped on the wet stones, panic threatened to overwhelm you.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you reached the end of the alley—only to be met with a crossroads. Which path to take? With your blurred vision, you couldn’t see the Palais Mermonia or anything at all.

You dared to look back, and your heart nearly stopped. The man was right on your heels, his face a hideous twisted mask of rage. He lunged at you, and you managed to dodge in time. He fell forward, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. You were about to run away, but your feet twisted under you. You tripped.

Oh, I think I twisted my ankle... Pain blossomed in your right ankle, your knee, and your palms. You tried to pull yourself up, but the man’s large hand clamped around your hurt ankle, holding you in place. His grip tightened, and you could practically hear your bones grind against each other. You gasped as white-hot pain lanced up your leg. He’s going to break it...!

“You little bitch...you’ll pay for that!” the man growled. He was trying to drag you towards him, and you scrabbled desperately at the ground for something to hold onto, but it was no use. “Who d’you think you are, biting me ?”

“Heard there’s some guy lookin’ to buy girls. I think I’ll sell ya to him. It’ll serve you right!” the man continued to rant and rave. He didn’t seem to feel the rain at all. There was a strange light in his eyes. Was he really drunk on alcohol? You had no idea. All you wanted to do was get away.

“My husband knows I’m gone! He’ll come looking for me!” you shouted, but even you knew it was an empty threat. There was no way Neuvillette would know where you were right now, right?

The rain... The image of Neuvillette standing in the rain came to mind. There was a connection between him and rain. You didn’t know what it was, but it definitely existed.

It was an absurd, baseless idea, but you were out of options. “Neuvillette!” you screamed. “Neuvi--ah!”

Your ankle was squeezed even harder. He really was going to snap it in two at this rate. How can anyone be so strong?

“Shut the fuck up! Ain't no one here to help you now, not even—” he suddenly let out a scream of agony. His grip on your ankle slackened.

You stared at the sight in front of you, feeling as though your brain skipped a few seconds ahead in time.

Just a moment before, it was only the two of you in this alley...until it wasn’t.

There was a heel grinding into the hand grabbing your ankle. You knew even before looking up who it belonged to.

Neuvillette was standing above the two of you, his cane in hand. There was a wavering blue light behind him. His face was an emotionless mask, but his eyes seemed to be glowing, figuratively and literally. They were filled with a cold hatred—no, something even more primal and basic than that. It was as though he was looking down at a worm, something far beneath him.

For the first time since you knew him, you thought he seemed completely inhuman.

The man was whimpering in pain. He tried to heave himself up, but couldn’t. He turned to look at who was stepping on his hand and gasped. “M-Monsieur Neuvillette? W-What...how...”

“You are under arrest, Mr. Moreau, for assault,” Neuvillette’s voice was low and deep, carrying well even in the cacophony in the rain. Like his expression, it was void of emotion, but you thought you could hear something else behind it, like a shadow lurking in the depths of the sea. “The Gardes will be here shortly. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

The man seemed too overwhelmed to speak. All he could do was stare up at Neuvillette blankly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You weren’t any better yourself.

Seeming to no longer deem the man a threat, Neuvillette immediately turned to you. The terrible look from before was gone, replaced with naked worry and relief. “Madame!” he helped you sit up, then quickly took off his coat and wrapped it around you. “Can you walk?”

You simply stared at him, unable to speak. In the distance, you heard shouts and footsteps running over here. It was probably the Gardes.

His question registered a few seconds later, and you shook your head. Your ankle felt as though it was on fire. You didn’t want to look at it.

Neuvillette studied your ankle, his brow creased with worry. His fingers brushed against the skin, and you let out a yelp. “My apologies,” he said quickly, pain flashing across his features. “I shall take you to the infirmary right away.”

The Gardes had arrived by then and became busy with arresting the man—Moreau. Neuvillette spoke a few words to them, then turned back to you. “I shall be carrying you in my arms now,” he whispered in your ear. “I’ll ask a Garde to bring your bags to the infirmary.” He hooked an arm under your knees and circled the other around your waist, lifting you and holding you close to his chest. He seemed uncaring of the fact there were others around. None of them were looking your way, though.

“Madame, you’re safe now,” he murmured. He sounded like the Neuvillette you had always known. That, along with the gentle warmth and crisp cologne that suffused his coat wrapped around you, finally thawed your frozen emotions.

“Neuvillette...I was so scared!” Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, and you buried your face in his wet shirt, sobbing into his chest. “If you hadn’t shown up, he would have...!

“There is no need to say anything more,” he whispered. He was now walking away from the scene. “I am with you now. No one can harm you any longer. The emergency room is not too far away. A carriage will bring us there.”

His hand combed through the strands of your wet hair. The motions were awkward, but they brought you a comfort sweeter than anything you had known.

Maybe it was just your imagination, but the rain seemed to abate with every stroke of his hands.

At the emergency room, a nurse examined your ankle and declared that while it was badly sprained, it was not broken. An ice pack and bandages were applied to it, with instructions to rest in bed the next day and to change the ice pack every few hours. Your knee and upper arm were bruised, and your palms were scraped, but other than that, you weren’t seriously injured.

The nurse also helped you change into dry clothes. Miraculously, your newly-brought clothes were mostly unscathed from the rain, so you chose a sweater and pants. She also offered you a hot cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted.

Not long after that, a Garde came to question you about the incident and record the injuries you sustained. It mercifully didn’t take very long.

“Would I have to testify in court?” you asked Neuvillette nervously after the two of you were finally left alone. He had been with you through all of this, silently sitting at your bedside and rarely leaving it. You couldn’t help but wonder what other people thought of this, but mostly you were just glad for his steady presence.

“It may not come to that,” Neuvillette said slowly, which was not reassuring to hear. “You have given your statement, and there is enough evidence for a prompt conviction without requiring victim testimony. And with the past history of the accused...”

He trailed off, a shadow passing over his face. “You knew that man—Moreau,” you said.

“Yes. Mr. Moreau is a wealthy businessman with many high-ranking friends in government. I have met him at several functions, and, well...you will have to excuse me for refraining from speaking of his character due to my involvement in this case. It has long been suspected that he has been engaging in various underhanded dealings, but no concrete evidence has ever been found. But to think that he would even stoop to human trafficking...it’s simply unconscionable.”

You wondered why a man like that would be walking around the streets drunk and attacking people. If he was so good at concealing his crimes, surely he wouldn’t do something so stupid and brazen that would get him arrested. You recalled his hideous mask of a face and the eerie light in his eyes and shivered. Neuvillette, seeing this, reached out and took your hand in his, squeezing it. You could feel his wedding ring pressing into your fingers through his glove.

“There is no need for us to dwell on this any longer,” he murmured, rubbing circles in the back of your hand with his thumb. “Focus on recovery. If there is anything that is required of you, you will be given ample notice beforehand.”

You stared into his eyes. You would never admit this to anyone, but you enjoyed looking at them. They were the most expressive part of his face—which wasn’t saying very much—and you thought you had become rather good at grasping the emotions flickering behind them, like trying to catch a slippery fish in a pond. Right now, you would say that there was a mix of lingering panic and an earnest desire to make you feel better.

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes again. Neuvillette took out another handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to you. You dabbed your eyes.

“I only wish that I had gotten there sooner,” he said, and you could feel the regret and anger at himself rolling off him like waves. “So that I could spare you from having to go through something so traumatic.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It was all my fault. If only I hadn’t gotten distracted by books and lost track of time, if only I had familiarized myself with the roads more, none of this would have happened. I made you worry about me. It’s what I deserve.” You had recounted everything that happened to him while riding in the carriage. He must think I’m an idiot who can’t even take care of herself, you looked down in shame.

“Madame, please look at me,” Gentle fingers tilted your chin up, his lavender eyes transfixing you. “None of this is your fault, not a single bit of it. A bit of absentmindedness does not deserve punishment. The only party in the wrong here has been taken into custody and will receive a fitting sentence for his crimes.”

“...Mm,” you managed to nod. His face was very close to yours. From this distance, you could see every single one of his long eyelashes in stark detail. For some reason, your heart started beating faster again.

“So...how did you find me?” you moved away from him a little, though you left your hand in his. “I did tell Marie that I was going to the shopping district, but I don’t think I was anywhere near there by the time you found me.”

“Marie told me where you went when I returned home in the early evening. When you didn’t return home by dinner time, we became worried, so I went out in search of you and asked the Gardes to assist. Then, I heard you screaming my name and followed it.”

“Hmm...I see,” it felt like he cut out some important details out of that explanation, but he was clearly not about to divulge his secrets. “The sudden heavy rain must have made it quite difficult,” you said, glancing at him.

“For the others, perhaps. But it was hardly a hurdle for me.”

A short silence followed. You wanted to push him for answers a little more, but sensed his discomfort and decided to drop it.

“You know, we’ve known each other for some time now, but this is the first time I’ve seen you with your cane up close,” you said. “Actually, this was the very first time I’ve seen you so angry. I hope it's never directed at me.”

The memory of Neuvillette’s look of fury flashed through your mind again. That blue light you saw behind him must have been his glowing horns. It reminded you that he was, in actuality, an unfathomably powerful being. He could have done much worse to Moreau than merely stepping on his hand.

“My apologies. Did I scare you?” a small furrow appeared between Neuvillette’s brows, the corners of his lips turning downwards slightly. It was such a contrast from that previous expression that you almost felt like laughing. “I am often unaware as to how my face might appear to others. It is something I try to work on outside of court. Although, I must admit, I was not thinking very amicable thoughts at the time. It might have shown on my face.”

You mulled his question over. Were you scared of him back then? To be quite honest, your mind was already preoccupied with fear by the time he arrived—there simply wasn’t enough room for more. Yes, you certainly had been shocked at first, but…

Even if his eyes and horns (that was his horns, wasn’t it?) were glowing, it was still Neuvillette.

“You should have been even more terrifying,” you told him sincerely. “If you ever do something like this again, you should show up riding on the back of a vishap.”

He stared at you in bafflement for a few seconds, then turned his head away, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Mentally and physically exhausted by last night’s events, you slept like a log until noon. When you woke up, you were greeted with a platter of all your favorite dishes.

With the new day and the cozy familiarity of your room, the events of last night seemed like they happened a lifetime ago. The fear had mostly subsided, leaving mortification and regret in its wake, especially as everyone was acting so considerate towards you. Looking back, you had no idea what you were thinking, and you realized once again just how lucky you had been.

Your ankle’s swelling had gone down considerably the next day, but it still hurt whenever you put even the slightest bit of pressure on it, so you spent most of the day in bed, reading books, drawing, or staring out the window at the gray sky. You weren’t without company, though, as Marie sat with you in your room often, changing the ice pack and helping you put away your newly bought clothes in your closet. She had been horrified when you came home last night in Neuvillette’s arms. “How awful, Madame!” she had lamented as she helped you get to your room and change into your nightgown. “Thank the Archons that Monsieur Neuvillette arrived on time!”

Marie wasn’t the only visitor to your room. The Melusines, including those who hadn’t gone shopping with you, also came to see you throughout the day. You supposed that Neuvillette told them about you, for they all brought you cakes and other desserts as get-well presents (you also suspected that they also reported back to Neuvillette about your condition, for when you mentioned to one Melusine how you would like to drink some Fonta, your wish was granted by the next Melusine who visited. However, she also heartily recommended that you drink water from Snezhnaya instead, which held a coolness that was good against swelling, and if you wanted, you could ask Marie to fetch a bottle of it for you from Monsieur Neuvillette’s personal stash. She also added that you need not hesitate to ask, as he had more than one bottle. Perhaps all Melusines shared his specific tastes in water, but you didn’t quite believe that was the case).

Rhemia and the other Melusines who had been with you yesterday had been the most distressed upon seeing you bedridden. “I’ll stick to you like glue from now on, Madame! No criminal will escape my sights!” Rhemia had declared, and her sisters nodded vigorously in agreement.

“There really is no need for that,” you tried to decline her offer. Privately, you thought that there wasn’t much a Melusine could do against a man of Moreau’s size anyways. “The whole incident only happened because I was careless and in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll be much more careful next time, so I doubt it will happen again. Just because I’m Neuvillette’s wife, it doesn’t mean that I deserve special treatment or anything of the sort. And if he put you up to this, then—”

Rhemia blinked at you in confusion. “But this has nothing to do with Monsieur Neuvillette. Not entirely, anyways.”

“It doesn’t?” Now you were confused.

“Nope! I’d do this for all the people important to me! Oh, but I guess you’re more than that, since you’re married to Monsieur Neuvillette! That would make you our mother, I suppose.”

“Um…” There was the m-word again. You considered correcting Rhemia, but she continued, seemingly not noticing your discomfort.

“You’re always so kind and patient with us, just like Monsieur Neuvillette. You greet us whenever you see us, and you always ask us about our days and listen to our troubles. Oh, and Madame, you’re such a good teacher too! I’ve gotten so much better at drawing humans thanks to your lessons!” Rhemia turned to her friends. “Am I right?”

Her friends nodded enthusiastically. They began recounting all the times you’ve spent with them.

“I’m glad to hear that you all think of me as your friend,” you said after they finished, a little embarrassed but also pleased. You hadn’t expected them to remember so much about you. But you felt a little guilty as well. At first, you decided to become friendly with the Melusines because everyone knew that Neuvillette treasured them greatly and you wanted to be in his good graces so that he wouldn’t have any reason to kick you out. They had always been the ones to come up to you first, especially in the first few weeks after your marriage, and while you didn’t consider yourself to be a particularly friendly and warm person, even you weren’t heartless enough to be cold to such a cheerful race of creatures.

“It’s not just us! I’m sure all the Melusines in the Court of Fontaine feel the same way. You’re just as important to us as Monsieur Neuvillette.”

“Oh…” Looking at their bright, earnest faces, you didn’t know what to say. Your eyes suddenly became misty. Before this marriage, you hadn’t given much mind to Melusines. They were just the public servants you would occasionally pass by on the street. But now that you were connected to them through Neuvillette, you were belatedly learning just how wonderful they were.

“Thank you,” you said at last, patting each of them on the head. Your hand still stung a little from last night, but you ignored it. “It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me. Truly. Still, you don’t need to follow me around. If I ever need help, I promise that I will come straight to you. And…I hope that you will all come to the sunflower viewing party we’re holding here next month.”

“Of course, Madame! We wouldn’t miss it for anything!” the Melusines chirped in unison.

By evening, the deluge of visitors had finally ended. You sank into your pillows, feeling exhausted. You weren’t used to having so many people fuss over you. It was unfamiliar territory, one that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate.

Still, as you gazed at the teetering pile of confectionary boxes covered in Melusine stickers on your bedside table and remembered all the get-well wishes you received, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. How did I get so lucky? You wondered. Perhaps even after I leave Neuvillette, we can still be friends…

As you were lost in your thoughts, Marie came into your room again.

“Oh, Madame, I completely forgot to give you this because of everything that happened yesterday. It appears to be from your family.”

Marie handed you an envelope made of thick, creamy paper. You recognized the stationery as the kind used by your father for formal correspondences, and the address written in familiar, flowery cursive on the front was indeed that of your family’s house.

“Ah, that would be from my sister,” you said, tearing the envelope open and taking out the contents. The envelope contained two cards made of similarly thick paper. They both had an elaborately drawn border of Lumidouce Bells and Rainbow Roses and had an invitation written in the center. This was new.

You are cordially invited

To a celebration

Honoring

Justine’s nineteenth birthday

Semi-formal attire requested (Floral themed outfits are preferred)

P.S. Sister, please tell me if Monsieur Neuvillette has any allergies or requires any accommodations!

“Oh no…” you groaned, putting your palm over your face. “I still haven’t gotten her a present yet!”

You had planned to get something for her yesterday after you finished shopping for yourself, but meeting up with Rhemia and the others caused it to completely slip your mind.

While we’re on this topic, shouldn’t she have sent the invitations much earlier if she wanted people to RSVP? It’s just like her to do things last minute! And why is she acting like it’s already decided that Neuvillette’s coming?

“Marie, could you please fetch me my pen and paper?” you asked the housekeeper. After you received them, you began to write a reply to tell Justine that while you were coming, Neuvillette definitely wasn’t. But just as you got to that last part, you paused. The idea of the Chief Justice attending a teenage girl’s birthday party all the way out in the countryside was absurd, of course. You tried to picture him sitting at your family’s worn dining table, singing “Happy Birthday” eating the butterscotch cake your housekeeper always made for birthdays, all the while fending off the barrage of questions from your family and friends. I can’t imagine it! It’s just too ridiculous.

It would be better if he didn’t have too much contact with your family, in order to avoid them asking too many questions, and to make the eventual divorce go smoothly.

He rarely even attended the far more glamorous functions of high society, so something like this would be out of the question. His answer would go without asking.

Or would it?

You didn’t really know why you were entertaining the idea. Perhaps being with Neuvillette these past few months had greatly inflated your sense of self-importance—but then again, you thought that the two of you had gotten close enough where asking him wouldn’t be so preposterous. You were friends, and wouldn’t it be ruder to not at least extend an invitation to a friend? Wasn’t the act of asking in itself greatly appreciated?

And…there was a little part of you that would like to show him around your hometown. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and all you could see for miles around were fields of wildflowers and mountains—a common sight in Fontaine—but there were a few spots that you had fond memories of. Since Neuvillette showed you his favorite places, it was only right to repay the favor, even if none of your favorite spots were as exciting as the giant willow tree or Merusea Village.

Recent events, including the latest incident, had taught you the folly of making assumptions, even for seemingly inconsequential things like this. Just because you thought

The worst thing he could say is no, you reasoned to yourself. And it’s not the end of the world if he does. Sure, Justine will be disappointed, but everyone knows how busy and reclusive Neuvillette is, so she’ll understand if he declines.

As if on cue, you heard the front door open downstairs. Neuvillette had returned home. After a brief conversation with Marie, the sound of his heels briskly ascending the stairs and heading in the direction of your room until it stopped in front of your door. There was a soft knock.

“Madame, may I come in?”

“Yes,” you called out, and Neuvillette opened the door and stepped inside your room. He was about to close the door behind him, but then he looked at you. A thought seemed to cross his mind, and he left the door ajar.

Um, why is he just standing there? You stared at him, confused when he didn’t take a seat right away. He simply stood there stiffly, his gaze a mixture of worry, uncertainty, and something else. For a second, you wondered if he was that caught off guard by your disheveled appearance that was a result of staying in bed all day. It took you a minute to realize that he was waiting for you to ask him to sit down. Really, this man… I thought we’re past such formalities.

“You can pull up a chair,” you said, nodding towards the cushioned chairs in the center of the room. He complied, clasping his hands in his lap after settling in his seat and leaning towards you slightly. He stared at you intently, as if afraid that you would disappear before his eyes. You squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing only your rumpled nightgown and that you were lying in bed. You surreptitiously pulled your covers up to your chest.

Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever had a man who isn’t my father in my room, you mused, though you were also aware that this wasn’t really the occasion to think about such things. Well, I guess it technically isn’t the first time, but this is very different.

Thankfully, Neuvillette broke the silence and (once again) prevented your thoughts from going down a potentially thorny path.

“How are you feeling, Madame? Regrettably, I was not able to take some time off to come and see you.”

“There’s no need for that. Marie took very good care of me, and I got plenty of visitors today,” you indicated the tower of cake boxes on your bedside table.

Neuvillette nodded, his face softening slightly. “We should postpone the meeting with Furina.”

“No,” you said quickly, putting your hand on his. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I’ll drag myself up the steps of the Palais if I have to.”

Neuvillette looked like he wanted to argue, but he swallowed back whatever he was going to say. “There’s no need for that,” he said at last. “I would be happy to carry you into my office, if you should ask.”

“Carry me into your office?” you repeated incredulously. Was he serious? But by now, you already knew the answer to that question.

You leaned back against your pillow with a smile. You sometimes wondered if Neuvillette realized how unintentionally funny he could be. “Wouldn’t that give people the wrong idea?”

“You do have a point. Then, I propose that we arrive at my office early in the morning, before the Palais employees come into work.”

“How about instead of carrying me, I borrow your cane?”

Neuvillette seemed to be pondering your words seriously. “But that would also run into the problem of rousing people’s suspicions. Someone might wonder why my cane is in your possession.”

You turned your head away to smother your laugh.

“It seems that the Melusines have made their visits,” Neuvillette said, looking at the tower of boxes on your bedside table.

“Yes, they were all very sweet. Although, I’m not sure how they expect me to eat all these…” You liked dessert and all, but not to this extent. Perhaps you could bring some of them back home with you to share with your family and friends.

“Clorinde also asked me to pass on her well wishes to you. She was very sorry to hear what happened.”

“I see. Please thank her for me, and tell her not to blame herself for my foolishness.”

“I will do that,” Neuvillette nodded, then was silent for a moment. His solemn gaze as he looked at you made it seem like you were diagnosed with some terminal illness rather than merely spraining your ankle badly and hitting your knee against the ground.

“Neuvillette?” you called out his name in hopes of getting rid of that grave look in his eyes. It made your chest feel heavy.

“Ah, by the way, I consulted with a friend of mine about your injury. She made this drink for you,” Neuvillette manifested a green, ridiculously adorable cup from out of nowhere. It reminded you of the bulky and colorful cups toddlers drank juice out of. “She says that it will help your body recover quicker.”

“A friend of yours?” you repeated, your interest piqued. While Neuvillette would happily talk to you about the Melusines for hours on end and occasionally talk about his (human) acquaintances, you had never heard him call anyone his friend before.

“Yes. She is the head nurse the Fortress of Meropide’s infirmary, and one of the kindest and most considerate people I know. I hope the two of you can meet one day.”

“That’s high praise coming from you,” you said, making a mental note of this mysterious friend. “Why don’t we invite her to the sunflower viewing as well?”

“What a wonderful idea. I shall do just that,” he said, then held out the cup to you. “Now, Madame, you should drink this.”

“Alright,” you took a sip of the drink and nearly spat it out. “Bleakness” was the only way to describe the taste. It almost made you want to get out of bed and walk so that the pain could distract you from the torture of your tastebuds. For a heartbeat, you wondered if Neuvillette was trying to poison you. “A-Are you sure this is h-healthy?”

“Of course,” Neuvillette said, looking baffled by your question. “I’ve drank it on numerous occasions, and I’ve always found myself quite refreshed and invigorated afterward. I asked Sigewinne to make it taste more palatable for you, as I’m aware that her concoctions are not for everyone. She truly hopes it makes you feel better.”

This is palatable? You thought. Did I do something to this Sigewinne person? Whoever she was, she shared the same incomprehensible sense of taste as Neuvillette.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he was looking at you expectantly. Oh Archons, is he expecting me to finish it in front of him? Just as you were trying to come up with an excuse to not drink it, those efforts were dashed by his next words. “Is it not to your liking?” he said quietly. You were vaguely aware that it had started raining outside.

“I…um…” you didn’t know what to say or where to look. You suddenly had the impression that a large puppy was at your bedside, staring at you with sad eyes. Gah, he must be doing this on purpose! Either that, or he must really be fond of that friend of his. “Well, when it comes to medicine, it’s not really a matter of liking it or not liking it, right? A-And since you’ve gone to the trouble of asking your friend to make this for me, it would be rude of me to not drink it, right?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself.

“If you do not like it, then you do not need to force yourself—”

“No, no, I mean, I’ve taken plenty of bitter medicine when I was little, and I survived. This will be no different,” you brought the straw up to your mouth and held your breath. Let’s just get this over quickly, you thought, then emptied the cup in one go. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to drink. However, the lumpy texture was still a struggle to swallow. You felt as though you had just eaten concrete.

“That was…certainly something I’ve never drank before,” you managed, flopping back onto your pillows to recover. You opened a box of lemon tarts and shoved one into your mouth to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you wanted to drink some Fonta instead, but decided that it might be a bit uncouth. Of course, some might say that it was unladylike to eat cake in bed in the first place, but you doubted those people ever had the misfortune of having to drink that so-called “healthy drink.” “Please thank your friend for me.”

Neuvillette nodded, watching you as you ate a second, then a third tart. Lemon wasn’t your favorite flavor, but anything would do right now. You offered one to him, but he politely declined. His gaze dropped to the papers in your lap. “…Were you writing a letter to someone?” he asked.

“Oh!” you had almost forgotten about that. “My sister Justine sent us invitations to her birthday party. It’s a bit short notice, but it’s in a few days.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard you mention it before,” Neuvillette took a pause, as if he had only just taken in the entirety of your words. “Did you say ‘invitations’?”

“Yes,” you nodded. Your hands suddenly felt sweaty. What were you so nervous about? “Since we’re, you know, husband and wife, it’s only natural that invitations would be sent to the both of us. Funny thing is, Justine thinks you’re already coming and has asked me if you require any accommodations, but, obviously, you haven’t given any answer as to whether or not you’ll be attending the party. I-I know that you usually don’t attend public functions, but birthday parties in our party don’t tend to be very extravagant affairs. It’s usually just a small gathering of close friends and relatives. We can even make everyone sign a contract of confidentiality, if you want. You don’t have to bring any gifts either. I think your presence will be a gift in itself for my sister, haha…”

Oh no, I’m rambling again…why do I keep doing this? It’s a simple question! You toyed with the edge of your comforter, suddenly too nervous to look at his expression. Would there be a look of disgust there? Why would there be? Your brain argued back. You haven’t asked anything offensive!

Finally, you dared to sneak a peek. He was staring at your face, as though scrutinizing it for answers to a difficult question.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, thinking that he must be trying to find a way to let you down gently.

“…Do you want me to attend?” he said at last.

You hadn’t expected that question. “What do you mean?” you frowned.

“What I mean is…would it please you—would it make you happy if I attended your sister’s party?”

The question threw you off guard. You didn’t know what he meant by it. What did it matter what you thought?

“Well, it’s not my party, so my opinion doesn’t matter,” you said slowly. “My sister will certainly be overjoyed if you attended.”

“But your opinion does matter quite a lot to me,” Neuvillette said. He was oddly insistent about this.

Oh, I get it. He doesn’t want to come, but doesn’t want to offend, you thought.

“If you want to come, then come. If you don’t, then don’t,” Realizing that your words might sound too harsh, you softened your tone. “It’s okay to say no. I won’t hold it against you. I’m sure my sister and everyone else will understand.”

Neuvillette stared at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You could hear the rain pounding against your window, and you turned your head to it. The sky was a dark, leaden gray. It’s been raining pretty frequently these days, hasn’t it? You thought distantly.

“Unfortunately, I have a trial to oversee on that day,” he said. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him clench and unclench his fists. You wondered why he didn’t mention the trial earlier. “I do not think it would be wise for me to attend, in any case. It would be a needless distraction.”

“Alright then. I’ll tell my sister you can’t attend,” you said lightly, then turned your attention to your unfinished letter. You picked up your pen and began to write. Focusing your mind on producing the words helped distract from the tumult of emotions within you—emotions that you didn’t know quite what to make of. Was it relief you felt, or disappointment? Relief for what? Disappointment about what? Were you seriously expecting him to say “yes”? That made no sense at all. In fact, it would have been stranger if he had agreed to attend.

It was better to keep expectations low. That way, it wouldn’t feel so terrible when they were inevitably let down.

In any case, it’s over and done with, you told yourself firmly, signing the letter with a flourish. Maybe too big of a flourish. I’ll post this first thing in the morning—that is, if I can walk by then.

You glanced up to see Neuvillette still sitting there. He was drinking from his cup, but he was watching you over the rim. You had long gotten used to him studying you like you were some kind of strange specimen, but it was still awkward, especially in this silence. Your room, which had always felt needlessly spacious to you, suddenly felt very small.

Just as you were debating whether or not to fake a sleepy yawn and ask him to leave, he spoke again.

“You haven’t yet bought a birthday present for your sister, yes?”

“Uh-huh?” you replied, wondering what he was getting at.

“I won’t have any time tomorrow, but I do have an hour or two to spare after our meeting with Furina. We shall go pick out a present together then.”

You gaped at him. “Together?”

“Is there something wrong with that? It is customary for married couples to give presents as a pair, is it not? Since I cannot attend the party, allow me to make it up to your sister with a birthday present.”

“…If you insist,” you said, since he seemed so adamant. Neuvillette was so hard to grasp sometimes. Sometimes, he was clear as a fresh water spring. Other times, like now, you had the sense that you were staring into the sea, unable to see all the way to its bottom. “She’d be happy about that.”

“Then it is settled,” he said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, then leaned forward and cupped your cheek. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have a chance to react. “W-Wha…” was all you could manage to stammer out. There was only a millimeter of space between your faces. Your heart sped up a little when his gaze moved to your lips. His thumb moved to the corner of your lip and brushed against it. It took you a moment to realize that he had flicked off a cake crumb.

"That has been bothering me for a while,” he murmured, removing his hand from your cheek. Despite that, you could still feel the smooth silk of his glove and the press of his long fingers against your skin. “I will take my leave now. Please rest and get well soon, Madame.”

“I-I will,” you nodded, suddenly feeling shy. You took a box of Conch Madeleines from your bedside table and handed them to him. “Please take this. It’ll take me a year to finish all these desserts anyways. There’s a little packet of whipped cream included, so if it’s too dry for you...”

“Thank you,” he took the box from you, then stared into your eyes for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving your room. It was only when you heard his footsteps recede to the other side of the house that you realized that it was no longer raining.

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