#the whole doing things as a family was seriously never my cup of tea

[kavehater]

Raisa telling me I’ll find “my one” but she forgets I already found him 😔

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 3 - The Figure Painter

Chapter Summary - Y/N visits a childhood friend to go over Seonghwa's odd invitation.

Series Masterlist

"And then he gave you a contract... Like from Fifty Shades of Gray?"

"I told you it's not a contract, he said it was an invitation."

"Honey, it literally gives you a place to sign at the bottom."

After Seonghwa had given me the envelope and left, I wasted no time in rushing over to my friend, Mia's, house to tell her everything. Mia and I had known each other since we were seven years old, hanging off of each other like leeches since. Her family was rich too, but unlike mine, they supported her artistic endeavors.

She was a painter, specializing in figure paintings and realism, and was also my voice of reason.

"I seriously don't know what to do," I whine, my head resting on her kitchen countertop.

"Well, what does it say? Like what does he want you to do?" She asks, her fingers twirling a teaspoon around her tea cup.

I glance down at the papers in front of me. So many rules were listed I struggled to even wrap my head around it.

"He wants me to move into their home," I say.

"Their home?" Mia clarifies. "As in other people?"

"I guess so?" I clear my throat as I continue. "I can remain as a dancer for the society as long as I don't practice for any longer than I need to be."

"Well, at least they're offering you some freedom." She mumbles sarcastically, taking a sip of her tea.

"Mia come on!" I cry out rather dramatically.

"I feel like there isn't much up for discussion here? Yes, it's weird and borderline controlling but when was the last time something exciting like this happened in your life?" She argues.

"I don't want to be controlled, Mia. This whole thing, it's just way above my pay grade. I had enough of it living with my parents, I don't need it in a romantic relationship too!" I point out. She lets out a sigh, nodding in understanding.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Mia runs a hand through her hair. "Okay, let's try a different approach. What things in there benefit you?"

"Uhm, I get to live in a big ass mansion free of charge," I say, my finger hovering over the bullet point. It sure would be better than the cheap studio apartment I live in now.

"You can never go wrong with a big ass mansion." She quips before I continue.

"It says... I have to be willing to, share myself?" I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, don't tell me they're the type to want a girl to homey hop." She seethes, leaning over the counter to read the paper. "Oh god, they are!" She exclaims.

"Just because you're monogamous doesn't mean you can judge!" I scold.

"I'm not judging, I'm cringing 'cause it's not for me." She says defensively. "If you're into that, I won't judge."

"Sure you won't."

"I might make fun of you a little, but you know I'll get over it!" She laughs. "Besides it's a bonus if they're all cute. I looked up Seonghwa and that Hongjoong guy and woo!" She whistles.

"Poor Mark." I tease, she gasps. "Listen, I don't know if I'm up for that either. I mean I don't even know who the others are, for all I know there could be a serial killer among them."

"Then call him." She states. "Call him and demand him to rewrite it on your terms."

"Would that work?" I ask, placing the papers back into a neat pile.

"He's a businessman, right? Of course, it would! Hell, you might even get to meet the others if you play your cards right." She says confidently. "You like this guy right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then fight for your own morals and boundaries, and if he doesn't accept that then move on." She says, moving over slightly to place her mug in the sink. "And if they try something, Mark and I will come over and beat them up for you."

"You and I both know Mark Lee is not going to beat anyone up." I laugh causing her to let out a snort.

"You're right, he could yap their ears off and give us time to escape the country though." She jokes, a wide grin spreading across her face.

I glance back down at the documents, genuinely contemplating for a moment. I hated the idea of being controlled by anyone again, let alone a bunch of men who, aside from 1, I have never had a conversation with in my life. But on top of that, it would be really nice to stay somewhere that didn't charge me almost my entire weekly pay for rent.

Plus Seonghwa was really good-looking, but was I really going to risk my freedom just because a cute guy gave me a second of his time? Mia was right, I needed to call him and set up some kind of meeting and get this document altered to my liking also, not just theirs.

"You're doing that thing again." Mia's voice cuts me out of my thoughts. "You know it's creepy when you stare off into space like that."

"Sorry, was just thinking about everything," I say softly, stuffing the document back into the envelope it came in.

"It's a lot, I know, but once you put your foot down like I know you can it'll all even out. You'll see." Mia was often right about these things, then again she was always the one to come up with the ideas that would get us into trouble growing up. I trusted her with things like this because I knew it would never leave the two of us, but trusting her to convince me to do something that could lead to me signing my life away? I was going to be a little more cautious of that.

"I should probably go, I got another show tonight," I say, hopping off of the seat I was perched on.

"Oh! I'm coming to the show next Monday! Don't mess up for me okay?" She says, skipping around the counter to give me a quick hug before I leave.

"Of course I won't, you're my lucky charm." I joke, pulling away and waving. She waves back, knowing I could find my way out.

I contemplated calling Seonghwa as I walked through the city streets. I let out an annoyed huff at the constant tug-of-war going on in my head. My finger hovered over the call button as I stared down at his contact. He'd probably show up tonight, but did I really want to decline his initial offer in person?

Without thinking I pressed call, holding my phone up to my ear as I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I felt a sick feeling of nerves in my stomach, the same feeling I felt before I went out on stage.

It rings 4 times before he picks up.

"I thought you'd think about it a while longer." He states, his voice rough. I take a deep breath before I speak.

"I'm declining your 'invitation'," I stated, making sure my voice sounded defiant.

"What?" He asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You heard me. This... Contract is far too controlling for my liking and I refuse to subject myself to signing my life away for a man who only graced me with his presence last night." I say, earning some looks from passersby.

"Doll-"

"I'm not done! Look, I like you. But the only way this is happening is if we rewrite this to include my own terms. And I want whoever the hell you expect me to share myself with to be there also. No way in hell am I agreeing to something like that without even knowing what they look like." I say, rather rushed. Silence follows, and I look at my phone screen for a moment to make sure the phone call didn't end. As I placed the phone back to my ear I heard laughter.

"My, I really underestimated you didn't I?" Seonghwa chuckles. "A real firecracker you are, so unassuming up until now." I could feel his grin through the screen, and it made my blood boil.

"If you're going to waste my time-"

"Hold on a second, Doll." He says, his voice still laced with amusement. "I'll organize a dinner, how does that sound? You, me, and the others who helped write the original contract. That way you can meet everyone and get your boundaries heard."

I blinked in surprise at his offer. Was it really that easy? "You're serious?"

"Of course I am! Honestly, it's refreshing to talk to someone as pretty as you about business exchanges." He chuckles. "You have a show tonight, yes? Are you free Saturday night?"

I clear my throat. "Uhm, yeah?"

"Excellent, I'll send you the details tonight with your Gardenias." He says, hanging up before I can get another word in.

I gape at the phone, staring at it as I stand frozen in the middle of the street. I look around for a moment before continuing on my way.

I had a sinking feeling that this dinner was not going to be as easy as he made it seem. The others were most definitely businessmen also, co-owners of ATZ Corp. Me, a broke ballerina versus 8 businessmen on their own turf.

Pray for me.

[sadlynotthevoid]

Okey, but, I feel like og!Cale is the type of person that, if someone tried to make fun of him for a crush, he would be like "ah, yeah, that's true" and openly admit it.

So, og AlbeCale AU where whenever someone tries to mock Cale about liking Alberu or asks him about it, he downright says the truth. Regardless of who is hearing him.

As in, maybe once someone asks if Rok Soo and Cale are dating because they seem close (in part because they're kind of close, and in part because Cale keeps knowing what he is thinking, but they don't know that's just a Cale thing). And Rok Soo is like:

Rok Soo: Nah. This guy's type are baker princes.

Cale: You got it wrong. I don't like any princes who bake, I like Alberu only.

And Alberu, who was drinking tea on the background, suddenly chokes on his cup. Which they notice, of course.

"Oh. Hey, Al. Are you okay?"

—Totally unfazed for having Alberu heard the whole conversation.

He's so shameless about it and it's completely unintentional.

He has no idea of how people treat their crushes normally nor is interested on doing the same. He knows that some people tend to get shy, but a decade purposefully acting as trash killed most of his shame— Well, at least when it is about others' opinions of him—. If he wants to do something, being laughed at is not what's going to stop him.

And what he wants is to say how adorable he thinks Alberu is, so that's what he does.

Rejection? He isn't proposing anything. He doesn't plan on dating or wooing Alberu either. It's not that he wouldn't like it, it's just that it hasn't occurred to him that that's even an option. For him, who had spent years hearing everyone say the worst of him, the idea of someone wanting him by their side is so far away that it has yet to form.

So he keeps making casual comments about how cute Alberu is when he's confused, or "his hair looks so soft, I bet it feels that way too", or "he looks so handsome when he's tricking people. I like it more when he doesn't have to, tho", while everyone else feels embarrased for it. Except Rosalyn, she thinks it's hilarious.

Of course, he's pretty much respectful about it, never crossing the line to sexual harassment. And he would stop if Alberu told him too, but he doesn't. He kinda didn't realize that was an option at the beginning and, at this point, he got used and actually enjoys it a bit (a lot).

Cale: oh, sweets! They're my fifth favorite thing in this cruel world.

Rosalyn, fully knowing what she's doing: what are the other four?

Cale, carefully choicing which cake eat first: Well— *rising a finger per item* my family, animals, Alberu and wine. In that order.

Alberu: *frowns* I'm only third?

Cale, picking a chocolate tart: Mm? I loved animals since before meeting you and, at this point, is a part of myself. The other day I saw a dog and spent two hours squatting at her side without realize. It was not a conscious decision, it was... a soul impulse, let's say.

Alberu, looking at his thighs because damn, that's a lot of time to stay in that position: Oh. Wait, you've also loved wine since before meeting me.

Cale: Yes, but drinking wine is a choice. I can live happily without it. You would be... more difficult to leave.

Alberu: *processing* (that means— can't be happy without me aksjdjsj) "blushes hard*

Rosalyn, looking at Alberu's silly fuming face: (don't laugh don't laugh) Pff—

Cale: cherry pie? *Holds a mini pie in front of Alberu*

The turn tables when Alberu realizes that Cale doesn't have resistaince against genuine compliments. He never takes fake glibbery words seriously, but if someone says the slightliest good thing about him and they mean it, he'll become a mess. He just— doesn't know how to react when someone believes anything good about him.

So, Alberu starts complimenting him seriously— as reprisal, of course ("that's just flirting, nephew. You two are flirting, stop calling it vengeance"). Small but real things, details most people doesn't notice, deeper things that he deserves to hear (because, honestly, someone should tell him how sweet he is. How considerate he is. How much he should be appreciated because he's precious. And it seems Alberu is that someone). It works everytime.

Alberu calls his smile cute once and Cale stops talking. Face red and eyes avoiding everything, he can't pronounce a single word.

He calls him kind after Cale subtly helped a strange for no reason (he's obviously doing it in a way others wouldn't notice unless they knew what to look for. Alberu wonders if this is other "Cale thing"). Cale trips and almost gets discovered. When Alberu looks at his face, he's pouting.

Curiously, he doesn't have the same reaction when he gets called smart. He just smiles a bit and sometimes puffs his chest. Huh. Still adorable, tho.

[ribbonsaikeaux]

Light

Light was a bit of a strange doll. It hardly spoke, kept to itself, and seemed to lack any discernable purpose to the other dolls. Their witch often just let that one do as she pleased. It happened that what it pleased was writing in a book which it kept hidden. None of the other dolls knew where. Light would have it one moment, then the next it would be gone. When they would ask their witch about Light, she would simply smile and pat their heads, telling them not to worry about it.

Over the years, the dolls started to grow jealous of the doll that never seemes to do any chores. Perhaps if Light had interacted more, their doll minds wouldve forgotten about it, but that ones constant scribbling in its book kept it too preocupied to interact much.

So the dolls hatched a plan. As soon as the book appeared, they would snatch it. They HAD to know what was so important. They bickered amongst themselces over which one should have thw honor. Finally, after much argument, Thistle was selected as the booknapper.

It lied in wait near the stairs, eagerly anticipating its moment to strike. Thankfully, its patience was rewarded as Light made its way down the stairs; the target book in hand. In a flash, Thistle had snatched the book and ran off, oddly hearing no protest. Thistle hurried back to the other dolls triumphant and excited.

"This one nabbed it!" It proclaimed proudly.

The assembled dolls cheered and gathered around, eager to see what was inside the mysterious book the ever silent Light held so dear.

Upon opening it, they all let out a collective gasp. On the pages were countless line drawings in their witchs' style. All of which were colored somewhat crudely. Their interest intensified as they examined the actual drawings. There were scenes of all of them playing and laughing, Serene doing her chores, that time Daisy ran around with a tea cup on her head, and the final page was a scene of each doll gathered around their witch smiling at a tea party they were all sure theyd never had. Surrounding the drawings, Light had written in crayon all the wonderful things about its doll sisters. How smart Page was, how beautiful Lavender is, and all of Lights thoughts about her beloved family.

The gathered dolls collectively gasped as they heqrd their witch clear her throat. A crowd of heads turned toward her; expecting to see anger. However, she stood with the usual gentle smile, a blushing Light next to her.

"I see you finally have Lights book darlings. I suppose an explenation is in order. You see, im getting old and my memory isnt quite what it used to be, so i wanted a way to help myself remember all of the good times weve had together. I enlisted Light here to guard and color my drawings of our memories. That one took its job very seriously, thats why it didnt speak or interact much. It was solely focused on preserving our memories." The witch smiled down at Light, patting its head. "Such a good doll" she smiled, looking back at the others. "You're all such good dolls, wonderful. Im so very happy to have you all with me."

The whole collection of dolls rushed towards the witch and hugged her, and each other, tightly. Now having a renewed love for her and each other. Especially little Light.

[sunnie-angel]

The War Years

conrad oxford x reader summary: war has broken out and though love might be the last thing on your mind, it still finds its way in through the cracks. a complete (mostly) canon compliant rewrite of the king's man (no knowledge of the movie is necessary to read) tags: period misogyny, grief, minor injury, off screen death, unresolved sexual tension rating: mature | wc: 9.9k a/n: did i say this was meant to be three parts? because it's definitely not going to be lol, otherwise these chapters would be spiraling into something truly unreadable. come scream at me in the comments? @batchilla has once again been a lifesaver of a beta on this and all mistakes are mine. part 1| series masterlist | ao3

The war doesn't change anything at first. Well, it sends the social season to an abrupt and early end, but most people are so caught up in the uncertainty of what comes next that there aren't very many complaints. Certainly you aren't complaining about the end to the mounting pressure behind every look in your direction as time marches on without some kind of indication of your future plans.

It's a cold comfort though. Your mother slathers jam onto her toast, pointedly ignoring your father's snide comments on her figure, as she informs you of the slight reprieve to any matrimonial plans.

"Of course darling, it's disappointing to end the season without a match but with the war going on, it really would be unseemly to try and pin down a proposal from the Oxford boy. Really, we should wait until it can be a moment of victory for you."

The red jam gushes out from under her pearly white teeth.

You take to sitting with George after breakfast to read the pilfered papers from your father over his shoulder. It's humbling, again, how much you don't know. These people that you could pick out by face and relate their whole family tree simply by name and title, you've almost no idea how they fit into the political and governmental fracas playing out on the world's largest stage. Sometimes Conrad will join the two of you as well, no longer under such tight watch with his father always up in London with the rest of the House of Lords. He adds his own anecdotes, little pieces of information he's ferreted away from dining at his father's table and the friends that often find themselves there. It stings to know that you are still left behind, left out of rooms even when they do their best to include you.

George nearly has a conniption when Conrad refers to Lord Kitchener as 'Kitch'. There's tea spewed all down his front and you've only narrowly managed to twitch your skirts out of the way to avoid the spray.

"What do you mean 'Kitch' came for supper the other day?" George croaks, mopping at his front with a handkerchief you had handed over with a roll of your eyes.

"Well that's what Father always calls him and I've known him most of my life so really, it should be Uncle Kitch but he's always said it makes him feel quite old to be called that."

"You don't think that the current Secretary of State for War being both a close family friend and regularly attending dinner with you might have been important to mention earlier?" you chide him, refilling George's cup as the glassy-eyed expression on his face indicates a strong need for fortification.

"…It hadn't occurred to me?" he says sheepishly.

"Are you sure it's this man?" George says in a mocking tone, holding up the front page of the newspaper featuring a very large drawing of Lord Kitchener calling for military volunteers. "Hadn't it occurred to you that it might just be someone with the same name?"

"Georgie," Conrad says very seriously, "Promise me that you'll never go into the theatre. You'll never survive all the tomatoes thrown at your head for being an awful comedian." He softens as George huffs in protest. "If you really don't believe me, come to luncheon then. Kitch is supposed to be visiting with Father, I'm sure cook can manage one more."

"Only one?" you interrupt, George's effusive thanks with an arched brow, the clink of your cup in your saucer startlingly loud.

"I didn't— Well your parents haven't been letting you out much, I didn't think they'd allow it." Conrad tries to explain away his blunder.

The thing is, he's not wrong. Ever since the announcement, your parents have kept you — but not George — close to home, as if the Germans would storm the isle at any moment. Even if they did, it's not like the walls of an old house would stop them, you'd tried to reason, but no one would hear anymore on the matter. It just that the assumption of it all smarts fiercely. George, so easily able to go wherever he pleased, to join Conrad behind doors that will always close in your face. It would have been nice to have the invitation extended, that's all, even if you would have had to turn it down regardless.

You smile through pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "Ah, but you'll be telling me all about it after, won't you boys?"

They nod and hasten to reassure you that yes, of course they'll tell you everything, but it isn't enough to extinguish that growing distance. You can see it even if they can't, faces forward towards the future while you're helpless to do anything but stare at their backs disappearing into the distance. They don't see it yet but that gap is widening. You can't close your eyes anymore.

"Did you know?" Conrad nearly growls out, startling you from the book you'd been absorbed in. Its the closest to truly furious with you that you've ever seen. Primly you place your bookmark in between the correct pages and put it down in your lap.

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know that George was planning to corner Kitch so he could volunteer?" He advances on and involuntarily you press back into the chair's high back.

"George doesn't have any interest in killing," you say dismissively. The sitting room door silently swings open. "Tell him George, it's all some sort of misunderstanding."

"It's not," is what he says instead.

Conrad whirls around to face him, hands clenching into fists. The book falls out of your lap, the bookmark falling out as it hits the floor. You don't notice.

"Why?" you manage to whisper, voice tissue paper thin.

George's face crumples and he strides forward to kneel in front of your chair, clasping your trembling hands in his own.

"They need more people," he says gently.

"Yes but why does it have to be you?" you insist, fighting back tears.

"It's a choice," he pauses to inhale sharply. "It's a choice that I'm making, for myself. I'll go to the recruiting station two parishes over and once I've passed the medical, Lord Kitchener has personally assured me a spot with the Royal Engineers, and gone to great lengths to secure my commission." He gives you a watery smile. "No killing, see?"

"Mother and Father will never let you," you try and persuade him.

"I'm 19 years old now," George says evenly. "Old enough that the army will take me without anyone else's permission but my own." He pauses to make sure he has your full attention. "I'm going."

Your lips start to wobble and you try to pull away, to cover your face with your hands before either of them can see the tears fall, but George won't let you.

"Don't you see? This is my only chance to have anything resembling a career." He parrots your father's pompous tone. "Gentlemen do not have trades, especially not first sons." Weakly you laugh, but the motion frees the tears from your eyes to run hot down your cheeks. "Besides, everyone says this should all be over soon in a few months, a year at most. Let me go have my wild heroics and when this mess sorts itself out, I'll come back and we'll sort the rest of our futures out."

"Do you swear it? That you'll come home and you won't do anything stupid?" you beg him seriously.

"I'll swear it on anything you like," he tells you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"I think—" you gasp out a shuddering breath, "I think I'd like to be alone now."

Weakly, George smiles up at you again, squeezing your hands one more time before letting them go. He heads for the door, then pauses when Conrad doesn't immediately follow him.

"Oxford…" George prompts him but he doesn't move, instead just stares at you for a moment. Without warning he strides forward, folding his handkerchief into your hands, before beating George out the door.

"Wait!" George calls after Conrad. For a moment, he is very, very tempted to keep right on walking until he's left the house. Just for a moment, before he slows and allows George to catch up to him.

"I'm sorry for the deception," George apologizes once again, catching his breath.

"That's not what—," Conrad cuts himself off as a maid walks down the hall. He opens the nearest door and pulls George in after him. "It's not that that I'm upset about." Conrad takes a deep breath and sighs, unable to look at George. "I'm jealous of you, and I'm angry that you didn't wait for me. I— I understand why you didn't, why you couldn't, but you didn't even tell me. I would have helped you if I knew."

"I couldn't risk it, not until I'd found out if it was possible." George lays a hand on Conrad's shoulder. "I should have trusted you, and I'm sorry that I didn't."

Conrad sucks in a breath. "I forgive you."

"Can I be extraordinarily selfish and trust you with something even more important?" George asks, voice scraped raw with honesty.

"Anything," Conrad reassures him, turning to face George.

"Look after my sister, will you? I know she'd be the last person to say she needs looking after—" the two share a commiserating look"—but I worry for her. It's selfish to leave now, I know, but its my only chance. You were there for her when I was away at school—"

"I don't know that I'd describe it like that," Conrad interrupts, heat creeping up his neck.

"However you'd describe it then, you made sure she wasn't alone. All I am asking is for you to do that again."

"I'm almost offended you thought you needed to ask," Conrad tells him, though there's a hint of a smile behind it. "I would have looked out for her anyway. She's my dearest friend."

"Thank you," says George, shoulders slumping in relief. "You don't know how much that means to me, truly. Shall we go find something stronger to toast to good friends then?"

"Lead on then, but let's avoid your parents. I shouldn't like to be here when they find out your plans for the next few months." George grimaces at the reminder, then pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

"Oh and Conrad, if it matters, you have my blessing," he says rather seriously.

"Blessing for what?" Conrad asks blithely.

"I pray to God one day you figure it out," George sighs, hanging his head in defeat.

Predictably, your parents do not take the news of George's plans well. By any measure. Your simply pick at your food, grateful not to be at the tender mercies of their concern.

Your mother simply sobs wordlessly into her napkin, too hysterical to even form words. Her reaction is not one you judge harshly. Had you not done the same, the moment the boys had left the room?

"Well it's all well and good to want to serve your king and country," your father blusters, fat moustache bristling and spittle flying, " but you're needed here! At home! Working for the betterment of this family!"

You wince at every word, cowering before his fury, but George takes it all rather calmly. He crouches next to your mother to comfort her, and merely sighs when she simply wails and turns away from his touch.

"You'll simply have to tell them you won't be going!" shouts your father.

"It's too late now," George says to the room at large. "I've already signed up—" liar "— would you rather I be shot for desertion before my first day on the Front?"

"I— no— wha…" your father turns a series of increasingly impossible colours in his anger.

"I did you the courtesy of informing you well before I'm sent away to training. Besides, everyone says that it'll all blow over in a few months anyway. I'll probably be back before Easter."

George looks rather splendid in his full dress uniform, collar starched and hat perched just so on his forehead. He looks grown up, a man taking up the space that your brother should occupy, posing for his picture before heading off to war. The flash powder of the photographer's light burns the afterimage of his smiling face into your retinas.

Your own smile is stiff as you pose behind your mother, your father's hands resting one on your shoulder and the other on George's, proprietary. The harsh flash of the light blinds you again momentarily, and you blink away the blindness to Conrad's eager face hovering just behind the photographer.

"Now, how about one of just the young ones, eh?" the grizzled photographer says, poking his head out from the under the camera's cloth covering.

"Oh I don't—" Conrad tries to demure but George isn't having any of it.

"Do stop stalling and come here!" George calls, shaking off Father's grumbling.

"Now, if the gentleman in uniform would sit in the chair, and the young lady and gentleman could stand just—" the surprisingly spry old man gently pushes you closer to Conrad. "—there. Perfect!"

He steps back and signals his countdown. For the rest of your life you can never quite remember what it was that Conrad said, but the results are forever preserved. George, nearly bent double in laughter, and you, face upturned and an adoring look in your eyes as you too begin to laugh.

It's George's last full day before he leaves on the morrow, an early train heading to Southampton and none of you have the heart to bring it to an end. Leaving your parents behind at the photographer's studio, the three of you make your way to the local tea room and the private room you'd booked in advance through the clever suggestion of Celeste. Just being able to spend a few — all too few — hours without the watchful prying eyes of strangers, or worse, people you know, is a rare miracle. By some unspoken agreement, none of you bring up tomorrow, or what will happen after that. Instead, the three of you reminisce.

"George, did Conrad ever tell you about the time…."

"She's a dirty rotten liar and a cheat at cards!"

"…..well at Eton—"

"oh at my fancy posh school…."

"Oh! Do you remember when.."

"—I told you that in confidence!"

"Well you should have—"

It's only when Conrad uncharacteristically offers the last scone to George that the bubble bursts, the weight of the future too heavy for the past to sustain.

The autumn sun is just starting it's early descent over the tops of trees just beginning to turn fiery colours, painting the stone cottages of the village every shade of warm hue. Slowly, reluctantly, the three of you walk in vague direction of your home, feet dragging. Light shines oddly out of a window, drawing your attention.

"I'll be right back!" you call over your shoulder, before darting into the shop, the boys jogging to catch up with you.

The man that's run the sweets shop as long as you can remember, Mr. McClintock, is happy to keep the shop open a few extra minutes at the sight of George's uniform.

"Go give 'em hell for us! Show them what us Brits are made of," he says excitedly before trying to wave off your money.

Standing in front of the store, you press your purchase into George's hands, paper bag crinkling.

"Pear drops," you tell him as he opens the bag. "Your favourite."

"What!" Conrad exclaims, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the shop door's lintel. "I thought it was rhubarb custards." He offers his own paper bag to George looking so forlorn that you and your brother look at each other and burst into laughter.

"Rhubarb custards were my favourite, right until the moment I discovered pear drops," George consoles him, popping one into his mouth. "I shall enjoy both of them immensely, never you worry."

Considerably cheered, Conrad offers you his arm and you take it. Slowly, though not as tragically as before, you set off once more in the direction of your home. As you walk, a curious weight pulls at your pocket. Reach your hand in slowly, your fingers meet the same waxed paper you'd just passed over to your brother. Letting go of Conrad's arm for a moment, you unearth your prize to discover small bag of barley sugars, one you had no hand in purchasing. Whipping your head around, you squint at Conrad suspiciously only to have him smile back without a trace of guile.

The first letter you receive from George is full of blacked out redactions. It comes with the morning post only two weeks after his tear stained departure. The next letter comes only a few days later with his sheepish apologies for having contravened military secrecy in so many and creative ways that his first letter was rendered illegible (his commanding officer had read him the riot act apparently before instructing him on how to actually write this current letter). Celeste gasps with laughter along with you when you read the message aloud in the privacy of the library.

George has been set to work somewhere in Belgium, expanding a hospital and keeping the ambulance trucks running. He's made a friend, a thought that fills you with a measure of relief you hadn't expected to feel at the news. Private Hart is, apparently, a cheerful fellow until it comes to all matters gastronomic at which point, George confides, he turns into the kind of total snob even Father would be taken aback by. But not to worry! he continues, the food may be rather plain but it's hearty enough to keep a person going in even the worst of the weather lovely Belgium has to offer. You resolve to send him some more sweets and whatever else Cook thinks will survive the Channel crossing long enough to reach him.

You're not sure why, exactly, but you're surprised to discover that Conrad is receiving letters from George too. The two are friends, you grudgingly admit, and they had kept up an informal correspondence during George's Eton years so it's not to be totally unexpected. Still, it annoys you that though you're more than willing to share all of George's letters with him, Conrad sometimes withholds letters from you.

"They're private, see," is what his excuse is.

"Just read the parts you can share out loud to me," you beg him, ravenous for any more scraps of your brother you can find.

"They'd only be as redacted as his first letter then," Conrad tries to let you down gently but it does nothing to diminish the jealousy clawing a hold of you.

It had been just as much as a shock to Conrad when the first letter addressed to him from George had arrived on a silver tray carried by Shola. Actually reading the letter, the mystery had been solved quite easily. Of course George had wanted to make sure Conrad was honouring his promise to look out for you. Of course he wanted details on what Conrad thought of your emotional state, the frequency with which he saw you, if the generic rich American or anyone else had been snifffing around while George wasn't there to scare them into behaving properly. It's no hardship for Conrad to send George his honest thoughts (not well but holding up admirably, everyday or just about, no and if they had Conrad would have performed George's brotherly duties for him), almost freeing to put pen to paper and confess to someone else just as invested as your care as himself.

George writes to you both as often as he has paper, though his letters often take weeks to arrive, sometimes coming out of order. He thanks you for the extra pear drops and requests some aniseed balls for Private Hart, now on friendly enough terms to be 'Henry', who's coming down with an awful cough. Enclosed with the requested treats, you send a letter reminding George that you aren't a mail order catalogue service, but if he should be allowed home for Christmas and the New Year, you'd happily provide him with enough sweets to get sick on.

Despite your grumbling, you send the sweets anyway, because you can't deny your brother anything, not for long. You try not to mention it in your letters, not wanting to make him feel too terrible about leaving, but the fear of George being away, and not just at school this time, eats away at you. Yes, you know that he's finally living out the closest thing to a dream he has, but did it have to be one that put him in such close proximity to danger? He sends you long, rambling messages about the fascinating new engine problems he's dealing with while waiting on the supplies to construct new buildings, little asides about the shenanigans he and Henry — now nicknamed Harry — get into when they're not on duty. Oh how you wrinkle your nose at the mention of lice and resolve to send him more socks if you can ever figure out a decent heel turn, very pointedly refusing to think about how his little asides translate into reality. The cold, the constant itching bug bites, freezing socks that never leave the dampness behind. It would be wrong to wrong to disturb him with your own nameless unease that trickles in, a leaking faucet to which you've find no solution, when George's enthusiasm is palpable in each pen stroke.

The one thing that seems to keep your unease at bay is Conrad. Lightness seem to seep back in when Conrad tries, very badly, to explain his latest lesson in Geography (he always seems to forget the existence of France) or offers to lend you whatever book he's just finished learning about. You laugh through his stuttering explanations of whatever new nonsense exercise Shola has designed to keep Conrad from going totally stir crazy and suitably impressed by both tales of Polly's deadliness with a weapon and her offer to extend her lessons to you as well. The sense of creeping dread, the swirl of unease that threatens to pull you under when you try to peer beyond the words on the page, recedes with distraction, and so Conrad, with the assistance of Celeste, Polly, and Shola, seek to fill your everyday with some form of it.

Really, they've done an admirable job of it, though it took great pains to convince your parents to let you leave the house even with two promised escorts. It comes as no surprise then that the true nature of the little 'outings' Conrad has arranged for you never makes it back to their ears. Shola has begun to teach you the basics of driving, a thrill that sometimes leaving you shaking even if you've never been allowed to leave the stable yard yet. George must be an old hat at this, you think, as you practice checking your mirrors before you turn. He's probably driven hundreds of trucks and cars by now. Polly — or rather Polly through Conrad — teaches you how to shoot a hunting gun.

"More practical for you than a pistol," she says brusquely. "And good practice for him to prove he still remembers how to handle one."

The gun is heavier than you expected in your hands, metal and wood smooth underneath the heavy cloth of your gloves. Conrad stands behind you, his arms reaching around to help take the weight of the gun until you can adjust your grip.

"Stance should be just a touch wider," he says in your ear and you have to suppress a shiver lest you lose your grip. Obligingly you shuffle your booted feet wider until you're rock steady, the relaxed stance of your body just brushing the front of his jacket.

"Index finger off the trigger and on the trigger guard, please. Make sure your grip isn't too tight on the stock. Now—" his hand curls around yours making sure the curve of your fingers is just right, the other arm caging you in as he helps support the barrel as you adjust to the heft of it. "—bring the butt to your shoulder. You want to look straight down the barrel now, see the sight at the end?" You nod, a single motion that makes you intimately aware of how close his face is to yours. His breath hangs in the air, a cool puff of smoke in the freezing winter air. "Imagine a line from your eye at this end, down to the sight at the other, use it to aim. Just—" he uses his hold on you to adjust the aim of the barrel, "—like that."

It would be nice, you think half-distractedly as you stare down your target at the other end of the snowy field, if he were to simply hold you like this without the gun in the way. His chin hooked over your shoulder as he holds you tight, cheeks flushed from the cold and affection. Conrad suddenly wraps his hand around your trigger hand, nudges your finger off the trigger guard and lays it gently on the trigger.

"Gentle squeeze now," he murmurs and your nerves are so completely torn to pieces by his proximity that what happens is most definitely not gentle.

The gun kicks back, hard, into your shoulder, knocking the breath from you. Even with your surefooted stance, you're sent rocking straight back into Conrad who lets out an undignified ooomph at the sudden contact. Had he not been there, you most certainly wouldn't have stayed on your feet. As it is, his grip on you only tightens and your whole body sings with a heady mix of adrenaline and something uniquely him.

"Forgot to warn her about the recoil, didn't you?" Polly calls out exasperatedly from behind the two of you. "Right, you might have hit your target but neither of you are firing a gun until I'm satisfied you've stopped faffing about."

Conrad receives your birthday gift for him, a basic book on first aid with the treatment of bruises specially bookmarked, with sheepish good cheer. Having learned his lesson, now whenever you're simply in close proximity to a gun, he dutifully reminds you to mind the recoil. Your answer — provided no one is looking — is to stick your tongue out at him.

Christmas is a subdued and sober affair, George's absence from the festivities keenly felt. No one at the house seems in the mood for holiday cheer, not with the war shaping up to wage on for longer than the general estimates. You've sent George as many sweets as could reasonably fit in a parcel, with some extra aniseed balls for Harry tucked in too. The annual gift exchange with Conrad had to wait until Celeste returned from visiting with her own family and was free to escort you.

"How do you think George is faring?" you ask him, popping another one of the barley sugars he'd gifted you. Already the paper bag is looking rather empty.

"I think he's having a far more cheerful holiday, if any of his stories with Private Hart are true," he replies, eyes crinkling up around the edges.

The letter regretfully relaying that there wasn't any leave to be had for the holidays and an earnest wish for Harry to get well soon so George wasn't stuck digging all the foundation posts of the new surgery arrives well into the new year and after the two letters detailing Harry's sudden decline and tragic death.

Some kind of pneumonia, writes George on tear stained pages. Took him over so completely by the end that his mind was half gone long before he was. Told me that the ward tent was covered in flowers, bluebells, the kind that grow near his hometown in Spring, swaying in the wind. The letter dissolves into a mess of splotchy ink, George's self censorship and tears mixing to create an undecipherable mess. I think I'd like to bring bluebells to his mother and sister, is the next legible line. Lay flowers down for him in the Spring, after the war is over.

It takes you three tries before you can craft a satisfactory letter, one that doesn't belie the sudden gaping terror opening up under your feet threatening to drag you under. Until now, it was easy to pretend that George was off on some grand adventure, like the ones Conrad was mad about, pirates and heroes, musketeers and distant lands. You could ignore the hard cold truth, the details his letters nimbly danced around in favour of a pretty picture. Harry, poor Harry, is the unwelcome reminder that death is a very real possibility in this grand endeavour. Silent and stalking the men stationed at the Front.

George must sense your fear anyway, because his next missive is full of reassurances of his good health, how the hard work has grown his shoulders so much he might start to pop uniform buttons and the mostly redacted latest intrigue about a car engine that has been giving him trouble for the past week. Even in the depths of his grief he tries to cheer you. George mentions Harry only once in passing, a line about being grateful to have been able to attend the funeral before his unit was moved out now that the hospital had been completed.

Private Henry Hart's death — a man you never met and would never know — casts a heavy shadow over you that even your brother's words cannot put to rest. There is no where to hide behind your ignorance now, not when the truth of the matter refuses to stay delegated to bedtime stories and party anecdotes. Fear's got you clasped firmly in her jaws. Your parents, recipients of far fewer letters from George than you, are still informed of this distant friend's death. Their mouths are set in identical pinched lines and the table is quiet, only punctuated by the scraping of utensils, for many meals after. Everything is dampened under the weight of that horrid, waiting dread. Even the sounds in the halls seem muffled, the woolly telephone conversations leaking from your Father's study are thin and one sided, your mother gliding into rooms with only the rustle of fabric to announce her. The sound of the clocks ticking ring out, loud as the bells in church. Even Celeste does not seem to know what to say to you, mouth opening and closing silently before being pressed into a thin line.

Conrad is the only one to brave the stupor that's fallen over the house, a curse that lays so thick even the dark fairy of Sleeping beauty would be proud of, and try to pull you from the clutches of your own swirling emotions. Rain or shine, he still attempts to draw you out, to distract you from the maze of your own mind and to beat back the shadows that have made their home in your house.

"I feel guilty," you interrupt Conrad, hands stained with ink from where's he's tried to plot on on a map all the possible locations George might be based on the heavily blacked out letters he's been sending.

"About Private Hart?" he asks, wiping his hands on a handkerchief and getting smeared inky fingerprints all over it. "I'm sure your brother knows that all of our thoughts are with him."

"About George," you tell him, getting out your own handkerchief and wetting it from the carafe on the table. You take his hand into your lap and dab at it with much more success, his palm and fingers not quite spotless but significantly less mottled.

"I know that he's suffering, in ways he won't breathe a word of in any of his letters," is what you break the silence with. It's taken you the many weeks since Harry's death to quietly work out the source of the fear that has dogged you since, that has made every letter a source of terror and celebration. "He's only God knows where out there—" you just your chin out towards the map, heavy with annotations, "—risking himself at every moment. I don't know how not to be afraid for him. I don't know if I'm allowed not to be."

It's that last confession, the one you're afraid will damn you, that releases the dam of everything you've tried so hard to suppress. Great wracking sobs shake your body though no tears fall, everything boiling over as your grip on his hands turns white knuckled. Carefully, he extricates his hands from your iron grip only to tuck you into his shoulder to shake and expel the Gordian knot of your emotions.

"He wouldn't blame you," he whispers into your hair. "George wouldn't blame you for living your life while he lives his. You hiccup and dig your fingers into the front of his sweater, burrowing into his warmth like it might save you from the roiling ice of your guilt. "You know, my father's grieved my mother every day since her passing. Sometimes I think he's mourning me before I've even gone too. I look at the life he's allowed himself to lead, and I wonder if this was what she wanted for him, for us. And then I look at you, at George, and I know that if she loved us even half as much as your brother loves you, he wouldn't want to freeze you in time this way."

Conrad doesn't say much after that, simply lets you cling to him until you can breathe, until the weight of a thousand elephants has climbed off your chest and from around your shoulders. Holds you for an eternity as everything, every emotion, every half remembered nightmare, drains out of you, the kind of harsh spring storm that leaves rocks stripped bare along the shore. Cleansed. Eventually, your breathing evens out, no longer the hiccuping gasps of a drowning girl but something more peaceful, more serene. Eyes slowly sliding shut, you fall into a daze, not of unease or fear, but of comfort. Something akin to sleep, that absolves you of all responsibilities now that you can breathe for the first time in months and worry that every inhale costs George one of his own.

Celeste, returning with the tea tray, attempts to barge in but Conrad's quiet, pleading look stays her wrath for a moment. Quietly she sets the tea tray down on the table, then settles down on the settee on your other side. She makes a 'come hither motion' with her arms, face set tightly against any protestations. As gently as though he were handling spun glass, he helps Celeste slowly shift your weight towards her, palm cradling the fragile cargo of your skull until your face lies nestled into the curve of Celeste's neck. You mumble, then go quiet, a warm, limp weight settled between the two of them. Satisfied that you'll be properly taken care of, Conrad tentatively stands, then goes to retrieve his suit jacket where it had been hung over the back of one of the library chairs.

"Wait!" comes the whispered command. Freezing, Conrad turns to face Celeste, draping his jacket over the crook of his arm. Her face works through a series of emotions so fast Conrad can't decipher a single one, before finally settling on affection as she glances back down at you, hand cradling the apple of your cheek.

"Stay for supper," Celeste sighs. "The young miss will be embarrassed by….whatever happened here. I'll inform Cook and her parents will be told that she extended the invitation and you gratefully—" she glares up at him, forestalling any protests, "—accepted. Go wait in George's room, one of his dinner suits shouldn't fit too badly and I'll send the valet up to dress you. "

"I'll—" her glare intensifies "—go wait in George's room," Conrad finishes lamely.

Your mother barges into your room halfway through Celeste helping you tie your corset cover on. You squeal in indignation at the door banging open, then simply sigh at the sight of your mother.

"Oh darling, why didn't you simply tell me you were planning something like this?" she asks you, almost proudly. Puzzled, you simply grin and bear her affections. "You've left me in quite the tizzy, no time to plan any special courses or order you a new dress." Gently, she pinches your chin with the most emotion you've seen from her since the announcement about Harry.

"Oh that won't do at all!" she cries, spying the dress Celeste had instructed your maid to lay out for dinner.

"It's the dress I wear to dinner regularly," you prompt her, wondering when on earth your mother had time to lose her mind.

"Yes but tonight's not just any dinner, now is it?" she responds dismissively, already combing through your wardrobe for something that would suit her suddenly inscrutable taste.

"No it isn't?" at Celeste's frantic gesturing, you repeat "No, it isn't," in a much steadier tone. "And it's not because…"

"Oh silly girl, did you already forget that you invited the Marquess to stay for dinner?" your mother chides you. "Oh this will do nicely!"

Your frantic confused faces at Celeste are instantly tucked away under a mask that almost drops the moment you see what your mother has picked out for you. It's a dress, of course, but one far too fine for a simple dinner. A remnant from your first season, the dress that had been intended for the final dinner party that never came about due to that momentous announcement of war at that soiree just over half a year ago. Diaphanous silk chiffon crusted in seed pearls, the frothy Valencienne lace bodice and sleeves giving it a much more….intimate air than a simple dinner gown would necessitate.

"I'm not wearing that," you tell your mother warningly.

"Don't be silly, of course you will," she dismisses you. "Now, matching gloves I think."

"It's clearly a summer gown!" you try to reason with her, but already she's directing your maid to pull out your matching pearl jewellery.

"Then it's a shame it never had the chance to be worn," she replies.

Frustrated, you huff and resist the urge to stamp your foot like a child. "I told you when you commissioned it and I'm telling you again now, you can see all my underthings through that dress!"

"Yes, darling, it's called a lingerie dress for a reason," your mother pats you on the shoulder patronizingly.

"Wh— but. I don't—"

"Hands up dear, the dress won't put it on by itself," she tells you, and you sigh, already knowing that you've been defeated.

Conrad pulls awkwardly at the cuffs of his dinner jacket, just this side shy of too short. He's never really had to spend time with the Baronet like this, as something approximating equals or 'man to man' as your father has just joked, boisterously clapping him on the back and offering him an aperitif. Nervously he sips at the small glass of liquor, using the motion to avoid having to make more conversation than necessary. Your father is extraordinarily interested in how his father runs the estate, what the annual income is and Conrad's own plans for future growth. It's a delicate line to balance between modestly demurring and factually reporting without tipping too far into gauche but Conrad thinks he's managed it. At least by the wide grin and ruddy humour of your father's reactions, he's at least managed not to to offend by talking so plainly about his finances.

With a feeling too euphoric to simply be called 'relief', your mother enters the parlour, trailing you in her wake. The relief is extremely short lived, because as you step out from behind your mother — not so subtly pushed as it were — Conrad promptly swallows his tongue and nearly chokes on the last of his drink. He's seen you in ballgowns, fine day dresses and outfits for nearly every occasion. He's seen you dressed, coiffed, and primped for the most royal of occasions and at your mud-streaked barefoot worst. The two of you have known each other in almost every season of your lives, in fact Conrad can remember the exact moment you stepped out of childhood and into adulthood. None of that, no other moment, has prepared him for this.

It's the simpleness of it all that undoes him. That this could be any other future night, that you could be walking in to dinner with him, skin fresh and eyes glowing in the soft light. The dress is gorgeous — he'd honestly have to be blind and stupidly in love with someone else not to notice — but its how you make it look that has him feeling thick headed and foolish, a child still mixing up his Latin verb declensions while a heavy handed tutor looks on. The sheer fabric of your dress has him inexplicably ashamed, like he's been invited to look at something precious not meant for him yet. On second glance, it's definitely not something he's meant to be seeing because wait, those are most certainly your undergarments. Oh he's going to burn in hell for this, he's going to burn in hell for—

"Lord Bolebec, why don't you do the honour of escorting my daughter in to dinner?" your mother suggests slyly, sliding her arm into the crook of your father's already proffered elbow. "We've been meaning to have her practice hosting more social engagements, and as you're the first guest she's formally invited, it's only fitting to start with you."

Woodenly, Conrad nods, still unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Your grimace still hasn't faded by the time he sets down his empty glass and strides over to offer you his arm. Heat suffuses your face as he so clearly and stiffly regrets whatever agreement Celeste must have browbeaten him in to. Conrad doesn't even look down at you as you take his arm and lead the group into the dining room. There's a muscle in his jaw throbbing as he pulls out your chair. He's trying very, very hard — and failing — to notice the way the single strand of pearls is drawing his eyes to your throat and down…further.

As your guest, Conrad sits beside you, a duty he fills admirably. As your guest, he is meant to be a conversational partner, a duty he fails at miserably. You've never, in the very many years and moments spent knowing each other, run out of things to speak of. Comforting silences drawing strength from an ease between you have existed, of course, but this, whatever this is, is not that.

Dinner turns into a long, painful affair, time artificially drawn out by Conrad's sudden inability to bloody talk to you. Questions are met with nods or one word answers. Appeals to shared memories or anecdotes you know he knows the punchlines to are met with blank stares or muttered words. Had your outburst earlier truly disgusted him so badly that your very presence unbalances him? Or perhaps it was letting your mother dress you in a very bald attempt at winning his favour through underhanded means. Whatever the matter is, the evening is quickly going from mortifying to downright humiliating.

Panicked, you throw desperate glances at your mother over his downcast head. Already forced to play a part somewhere between person — fully realized, intelligent, wilful, or in other words, a man — and ornamentation — beautiful, malleable, tasteful — your dignity comes cheap these days. With a smile strung as thin as your brother's favourite shaving razor, your mother obliges.

"My Lord Bolebec, I've heard that…"

Her, her he will answer. Polite, well-crafted ripostes to her elegant word games, answers that demonstrate that however reluctant he is to use them, social graces do exist inside of him. Whatever emotion is painted on your face is closer to a grimace than a smile but with every word spoken — distinctly not at your behest — humiliation pools in your belly.

"I'm afraid I've come down with a rather wicked headache," you announce suddenly before desert can be served. Abruptly you stand before one of the footmen can pull out your chair for you and sweep away to the library where hopefully no one will search for you for some time yet. Your last glimpse of the dining room is of Conrad half stood up from his seat, napkin clenched tightly in his hand.

Sprawled out in one of the high-backed chairs of the library, you scrub at your face and sigh. Celeste, thankfully, is the only one that has disturbed you, sliding into the room with a rueful smile and a glass of what would have been part of the after dinner cocktails. Seeming to sense your need to wallow in your embarrassment, she leaves you to it with a promise to come back in an hour if you hadn't gone up to bed by then. The drink burns as it goes down, but not as much as your face when you overhear your parents talking in the corridor outside.

"….awful, just awful. Albert, he hardly got a word out to her all supper! It really couldn't have gone more poorly, I simply don't understand what could have happened," your mother rants, voice fading into earshot.

"Really, woman," your father says disdainfully. "You dangle a boiled sweet wrapped up in nothing but cellophane in front of a starving man and what is he supposed to do? Think about anything other than eating it? That boy might still be wet behind the ears but he's still a red-blooded man. Honestly…."

Maybe it's the drink on a stomach that was far too tightly knotted to eat much at dinner, maybe it's the stinging tears of humiliation that prick at the corners of your eyes — whatever it is, some momentary madness animates you to write to your brother. Every avoided gaze, every stilted word, every humiliating sting of Conrad's sudden coldness, even the uncertain weight of your own grief over George's absence, makes its way onto the page. Fat tears drip onto the paper, smearing some of the drying ink. It's not not legible, and so in your state you let it be instead of trying to rewrite the whole blasted mess.

Is this what heartbreak feels like? You write, pen scratching over paper. If it is, I want my heart back. I want to go back, back when we were still running through fields and loving him wasn't as complicated as being in love with him.

It's with a sore head and a sore heart that you wake up the next morning. In your bleary headed daze, you don't recall asking Celeste to put the letter out with the rest of the post.

Conrad arrives like clockwork after luncheon, a bag of barley sugars in one hand and no mention of the previous evening on his lips. He doesn't bring it up when he's leafing through the paper and telling you the latest news he's gleaned from his father. Doesn't even hint at it when Celeste interrupts with the tea tray and a silent glare. Conrad does not mention it even when he has to return home for his own supper. Despite the many, many times the urge to just ask, to get him to confess to you what exactly had taken place, the words get caught in your throat. At last he must catch on to your hesitation, because he claps you on the shoulder and tells you not to worry.

"If you're worried about yesterday, you shouldn't be." You deflate with relief. "There's nothing wrong with being worried for your brother, but you shouldn't let that be the only thing in your life at the moment. We'll see better days, all three of us, and this will just be a bad memory to laugh about later." You sag in defeat.

You let the matter lie that day, and every day for the next two weeks after. Life goes on like it never happened. Or at least, it never happened whenever Conrad is around, but your mother with her nervous hand wringing refuses to let the matter die. Meal times, the only times she can be certain of your presence to pin you down and rehash the same events over again, are the most wretched parts of your day.

On this day, however, there's a letter from George brought in to you along with the toast. With greedy, eager hands you tear into the envelope, not caring about the crumbs smearing across the paper. Your mother continues to lecture you on all the possible mistakes you might have made but her voice fades into background noise at the first sight of George's sloping hand.

….so don't go wishing away your love, oh desperate sister of mine, he writes. Your hand flutters to your mouth in shock as your last letter, written in a tipsy haze, comes startlingly back into focus. You'll miss him when he's gone, like there's no air but you're still breathing. Don't spend the rest of your life waiting between breaths. Tell him, all right? That's the only thing I want, not for you to spend every day fretting over me. But, I know you and I know him so. I'm writing two letters; this one and one to Conrad, laying out all the reasons I think he's in love with you. Before you decide to strangle me, my reasoning is this: he's far, far more impulsive than you and thus less likely to over think it. If, even after everything is laid out before him and he still feels unable to address his (quite obvious) feelings, then I have asked him not to break your heart and let your feelings dissolve naturally. Honestly though, I don't foresee him not—"

"Oh Marquess, do sit down and join us!" your mother's voice brings reality crashing back down around your ears.

Conrad stands rather sheepishly at the door to the dining room, worrying a letter between his fingers. You swallow around your desert dry mouth and the thunderous roar of your pulse.

"I shouldn't like to impose," he starts nervously. "Only I've received a letter from George and thought that your daughter might like to open it together if she hadn't received one from him as well."

Your fingers are wrapped so tightly around your own letter from George that the paper starts to tear under the pressure. You hope the raw frantic energy bubbling in the pit of your stomach isn't immediately visible but Conrad catching your eye and cocking his head makes you certain it hasn't.

"Sit down and eat something first," your father insists, breaking the intractable hold of Conrad's concerned gaze. "Any news from George is liable to be weeks out of date and you're still a growing young man."

"I—" any protest Conrad might have offered is immediately squashed by the under butler methodically setting out another place setting at your left elbow. "I would be glad to," he lamely finishes.

Taking his seat, he finally notices the paper clutched in your hands.

"Oh I see you received one too."

Desperate not to let him see the all too revealing words George has written to you, about you, you quickly shove the letter into your pocket.

"Yes," you tell him through a tight smile. "I did. You don't usually share George's letters to you with me."

"I suppose it was meant to be a peace offering of sorts," he says quietly, trying to avoid your parents' overzealous attempts at eavesdropping. "For the other night's discourtesy."

The scrape of a knife pressed too hard against porcelain jolts you both back from your own intimate bubble, the rest of the world filtering back in.

"Marquess, I must wonder what are your father's plans for the summer with the social season unlikely to go ahead. Will he be going down to London to attend the emergency House of Lords more regularly?" Your father ensnares Conrad into a conversation about the Duke's political goals and Conrad's own opinions on the same matters, leaving you to bear the pointedly encouraging stares of your mother.

Conversation is interrupted by the door swinging open again only a few minutes later, the butler announcing Lord Kitchener. You have to crane your neck to get a glimpse of the man around the bulk of Conrad's body. It's unfair really, the bean pole he's grown up to become with stupidly wide shoulders to match. Murmurs breakout again as the room struggles to their feet to greet the unexpected guest. Shock, then glee flits across your father's face at such an illustrious visitor, especially one who had become so well known for his war efforts.

"Kitchener!" your father booms gaily, "What a pleasant surprise!"

"My, we really are quite popular this morning to be commanding so many visitors," your mother chimes in, nervously smoothing the fabric of her morning gown under her palms. Her napkin competes with her knuckles for a finer shade of white.

"Conrad, I wasn't aware that you'd be visiting with the family," Lord Kitchener says, removing his hat, tucking it under his arm, and waving off the footmen all in one smooth gesture.

"I wasn't aware you'd planned to visit them either," Conrad replies glibly. "They're very dear friends of mine."

"I see," says Lord Kitchener. "That makes this next part rather grim then."

He sighs, a heavy beleaguered thing, then turns to face your parents. Lord Kitchener rolls his shoulders back, braces himself visibly, and then begins to speak.

"It is with my deepest regrets that in the early hours of April 4th, your son, George, was killed in action."

The clock in the hallway chimes, ringings out the new hour, before resuming its heavy handed ticking. Tick. Tick. Tock. The world grinds to a halt.

A serving tray rattles in a footman's suddenly clumsy hands. Your mother lands in her chair heavily, not her usual graceful descent but the free fall of gravity taking over. Your father gasps as though he's been hit. There's no— there's not enough air in the room.

Georgie's words burn a hole through your pocket, the rest of your body icily numb. No. It's not true.

Conrad is the first to find his words again.

"But he's an engineer! He shouldn't be near any action at all, surely there's been some confusion."

"I'm afraid there's been no mistake," Lord Kitchener sighs, full of regret and the world weary exhaustion of someone that's seen too much waste. "Along with the rest of his unit, he was constructing tunnels near Ypres. The shelling was too heavy for the not yet supported tunnels and every last soul was lost." He pauses, the weight of all those deaths crushing him down. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

"I don't believe you," you croak through vocal chords that feel screamed raw. "I don't believe you. I want to see him. I want to see my brother, I want to see Georgie." Your voice breaks on the last word. Your hands tremble and so you ball them into fists, nails cutting into your palms to hide the tremors. You have to be brave. For him.

It can't be true. He's not dead. He's not. He's just written to you, he's got schemes and wild capers up his sleeves. There's still a parcel of pear drops and socks you'd finally knitted well enough to send him, still packed up on the desk in your bedroom, waiting for the post to resume after the Easter holiday. Georgie, with his soft eyes and wry sense of humour can't be gone. He mustn't be. He promised to come back.

"It wasn't possible to recover any of the bodies," Lord Kitchener tries to let you down gently. "But I assure you there were no survivors."

The gaping pit that's followed you around since the moment your brother left finally opens up and swallows you whole.

You manage one determined step towards him before Conrad steps into your path, arms coming round you to stop your advance. He holds you steady, unwavering even as you fight to free yourself from his grasp.

An animal caught in a trap, you thrash and scream over the sounds of your mother's quiet sobs. He won't — Lord Kitchener can't be allowed to be unscathed by this, the collapse of your entire world. Georgie has been the one constant of your entire life. Your first friend, your first co-conspirator. The first one to see you, to take you seriously, to ask you about the future you want instead of what you were expected to have. Georgie's the one that's always been purely, completely, and totally on your side. He can't be gone because if he is then he's left you. He's betrayed you by dying, by leaving you to face the rest of the world, the rest of your life, without him at your shoulder.

"He killed him," you hiss. "He killed my brother, that bastard KILLED MY BROTHER." You scream and wail and still the body in your way won't budge. Hardly seems affected by your clawing and struggling, and so you, in your anger, strike where it will hurt. "He killed your best friend! He killed Georgie!"

Conrad shudders, takes an involuntary step backwards, but refuses to bend to your grief. "He killed him, he killed him," you repeat over and over again, voice trailing into wracking sobs. The fight, the anger driving you dissipating into something more raw as you futilely throw yourself over and over again at the human wall Conrad has put between you and the man that saw your brother into his living grave.

You'll miss him when he's gone, like there's no air but you're still breathing.

You're going to be sick. Was he scared, your brother, when he realized what would happen, trapped down there in the dirt, in the dark? Did he realize the moment when the air ran out that his life would too? Did he panic? Did he pray? How long did it take to suffocate in the wet earth? Or maybe, maybe there was some merciful god looking down, one that let him be knocked unconscious so that his last moments were not spent in pain. Maybe—

The pounding of your fists against Conrad's chest grows weaker, hands clutching at the front of his suit. It's the only thing keeping you present, the weave of the fabric under your fingers as your face grows hot with the saline of your tears. You sob, great big wracking things that make your ribs ache, the pounding of your heart ever present, even as Conrad holds you up. You're cold, so cold. The core of you frozen, coated over with the thickest ice.

A warm hand cradles your face into the starched collar of a neck. Quickly it grows damp from your tears but the hand never turns you away. A noise, a horrible wailing noise won't stop ringing out. Please, won't anyone make that awful, animal noise stop?With a start you realize it's coming from your own mouth, ripped from your throat and the aching remnants of what was your heart.

"An official death notice will be sent to you shortly," Lord Kitchener says tiredly, putting on his officer's cap. "I thought that as it was my direct interference that led to the boy's enlistment in the Corps that I should express my condolences directly."

"You were mistaken," insists your father, voice strangled with grief. "Now good day to you sir."

[jellyj777]

03; Freedom | THE PATIENT

THE PATIENT | Book | Ch03;Freedom

JungkookxReader (/fluff/angst/smut)

—Falling in love with a patient in an asylum might not be everyone's tea but you had a thing to fix something you never broke at first place.

Words: 2.8k+

TROPES:: One sided hate, Therapist Au.

SYNOPSIS:: —"Don't trust me, Believe in me"

WARNINGS:: Talk about abuse, Violence ahead, explicit language, Anger issues

<- prev | index | next ->

The date or whatever you want to call it with Taehyung went well, surprisingly. It wasn't a date being honest cause no way in hell someone has ever asked you to suck them off after meeting them for few hours. Additionally, after watching a freaking hockey match with innocent conversation.

"So?" He raises his eyebrows at you, the car was parked on the side of the road. Other cars went by as the whoosh sounds could be heard. This wasn't just an awkward situation but an amusing one too. You never expected a man like Taehyung would ask you to suck him off.

He was rich. Very to be exact.

That's the information you learned about Taehyung during the intermission of the match while he was explaining the game cause you went for a bathroom break and these washrooms are literally miles away. You both talked about your lifestyles, workplace, friends and basic stuff and the guy who was sitting in front of your eyes came from a rich and privileged family, his words not yours. Wasn't trying to brag but when his lifestyle was rich itself, he couldn't do a shit but brag about it.

"So..." you trail off thinking about the question that was proposed infront of you. It's been a while since you had any type of fun, certainly, sex and you knew giving a blowjob wasn't exactly having sex but it does lead to more things. Currently, only one thing stood there between the two of you. Silence.

"It's alright if you don't want to - sorry for making you uncomfortable." Taehyung breaks the silence, his hand grabbing the clutch again to reverse the car and go to the restaurant for the dinner he asked you before leaving the court.

His hand froze up in place when he heard the seatbelt clink on your side. He glanced over at you and saw you were unbuckling your seatbelt. Before he could say a thing, you were already making the first move with pulling your hair up in a ponytail.

"Are we actually doing it?" He asks, sounding more excited and surprised too at the sudden shift of the setting. Got him more horny, not gonna lie. He didn't think you'd be a type of girl for quickies. Heck! He didn't think you'd be a type of girl for a hook up either cause of how naive and innocent you sounded in the whole conversation with him at the Ice Hockey match.

The whole conversation was about your career and his career and how prestige you were to talk strictly about your normal life, something you didn't realize either. Career. That is what the topic was and how badly Taehyung wanted to switch the topics to dating life or anything interesting but didn't wanted to freak you off.

Your hands hook up with his button of the formal brown pants he was wearing, his budge was so visible. You eye up and down with a faint smirk. "When did you get this hard?" You ask, curiosity taking over your mind.

"Are you seriously asking that?" He chuckles, now helping you to unbutton him.

You roll your eyes with a faint chuckle you press his semi-hard budge with a little pressure wanting am answer. "Just answer." You state wanting to say 'stop being a smartass' cause it was general curiosity.

"It was when you accidentally buried your face in my lap when the puck came flying to us." He hisses with a low gruntal moan as you cupped him through his boxers. He lifts his hip up lightly for you to lower his boxers.

You remember perfectly now, to defend yourself and your face, ofcourse, you dogged the puck that came flying to your seat by the powerful hit of a player. Not really big perks of sitting in the front row. It was a general hockey match so the protection against the ring wasn't the best to begin with.

The dogged move led you to burry your face in Taehyung's lap with a small gasp, his hand wrapped around the small of your back to make sure the puck didn't hit you. Yet, when he sat up to ask if you were okay, he paused. Paused at the sight of your head burried in his lap, strands of hair on one side of your frame showing off the back of your neck, the thing that ran in his mind was how would you look while sucking him off.

Would you be a tease or be a good girl for him? He thinks and soon was left out of his thoughts.

"Mhm, Just like that." Taehyung groans when he felt you licking long strip from the base of his dick till the tip while keeping the eye contact. He closes his eyes, throws his head back and enjoys the sensation you were providing him with your mouth.

Warm. Sucking. Not teasing. Just like a good girl you were.

"No way!" Hoseok exclaims putting his coffee down, your face flushed with embarrassment. "So, you're telling me you just sucked him off? Just like that?!" Hoseok asks again, for the nth timein the last fifteen minutes of your conversation.

"Yes, what do you want me to say?" You sigh sipping on the green tea. At this point, the regret was coming up being honest. Not the regret that you sucked Taehyung off but the regret of telling this thing to Hoseok out of all people.

"Mun finally let off her dry sex life curse." He laughs swirling on the chair making you glare at him with a 'seriously?' look.

"Shut the fuck up, Seok."

"What? As if you had sex in a while. Blowjob was a step up in this curse, hun." He shrugs. He was honestly happy that you finally had something. With countless times of trying to put you up with someone who was eligible for you -according to him- he finally got a good news of you giving Taehyung a blowjob. He knows Taehyung is a great guy, just because he was a silver spoon that doesn't mean he's an asshole like most people might imagine.

"He invited me for the auction party on the weekend." You change the topic not wanting to talk about how you randomly sucked a guy off just cause he was nice, innocent and respectful towards you. Handsome too.

"Oh, did he?" He sips on the coffee leaning his back more on the chair of your office. "You must've entertained him quite nicely." Another tease left his mouth but this time it made you frown in confusion making your eyes divert from the desktop on which you were typing the updates for your patients to him.

Upon seeing your confusion, Hoseok takes a long sip of the coffee to clear his dry throat cause of the explanation coming up is long. Long enough.

"I mean, he doesn't invite anyone, y'know." He shrugs. "You must know by now how rich his family is - not that I'm trying to brag his lifestyle but if I was him, I would've bragged it a lot. The auctions he holds is not for everyone, especially not the people you meet first time. I knew you both would be amazing friends and I'm sure you gave him a good blowjob for him to invite you."

"Seok." You warn him with an eye roll to not bring the topic again.

"What!" He exclaims. Slumping back on his chair he raises his eyebrows playfully knowing he'll tease the shit out of you every darn time.

"I denied."

"You denied?" He frowns.

"Yeah, I've shift this weekend." You murmur and sip on the green tea which is starting to get cold. "I denied him politely at the dinner." You correct your words and  Taehyung gladly understood how not everyone is a silver spoon. He's thankful and glad to his parents for making his life easier and having enough money to do what he can right now. Follow his passion.

"Ugh, Mun, you should've just skipped work!" He whines like a freaking kid.

"As if!"

"Oh please, you skipped it on your five hours situationship guy's birthday."

"I was young back then!" Even the thought makes you cringe now. How young and stupid was it for you to skip your day of the medical internship for a guy who you don't even know the name of know.

"Shit." Hoseok stands up with his coffee after hearing the notification on his phone. The notification about the meeting with his senior for the hospital powerpoint on Friday. Powerpoint about one of the mental disorders to teach new staff (mostly nurses) about. Next week is your turn and you still haven't chosen the topic.

A topic which was interesting according to you was Schizophrenia. Still researching about it tho. "Gotta go, Mun. I'll see you after work." He murmurs rushing out of your room. You give him a wave and watch him walk out. Standing up you fix the chair he was sitting on to typical 30° angle. Just how you like it. Everything to be in order.

"Why are we here?" He groans. You look over his side profile, he sounds irritated by all of this bullshit you were providing him with. Bullshit. According to him Ofcourse yet his eyes showed something else, something you haven't seen in a long while.

Warmth. Maybe it's the sun glowing in front of you. Maybe.

"I thought it's a good idea for you to have freedom-" you turn your face back to the view in front, view of the sun slowly hiding away, patients from hospital walked around in their hospital gown with their given nurses. "-isn't this what you wanted? Freedom?"

He doesn't reply but just hums back. You're right. He did indeed needed, wanted this taste of freedom. Hasn't been to a park in a while due to the asylum he was admitted at before. Hasn't been to a park since his childhood because his mother wouldn't let him out to a park as punishment. Was only allowed to go once or twice a year.

"Parks are for kids," he murmurs under his breath, sounding not interested but his eyes told otherwise which you didn't notice cause you were too busy to look at the beautiful sunset happening. A frown creases your eyebrows but you don't turn around to look at him.

"Why does it matter?" You shrug, "Enjoy yourself till' you can."

"It does matter." He states. "You can't have this much fun at one time, worse when you're in a place like this."

You knew he was talking about the hospital but the comment of 'not having this much fun at once' made you frown. You turn to face him, he does the same. "What do you mean that you can't have this much fun at once?" You ask, confused.

Confusion appeared fully on the creepy dolls face. Makes him want to smirk and tease you but doesn't. "I mean, you're allowed to be at park at all the times?" He asks back.

You nod, "Of course, the park is a public place. You can be here for hours and no one would say anything." You state the obvious fact.

"Well, Ms.Doc, not everyone has a happy life you do." Makes you want to argue that your life wasn't exactly rainbows and unicorns but you stay quiet remembering he's your patient not your friend. He folds his arms across his chest and raises his eyebrows at you.

"My bad," you apologize, quick than he intended. Wasn't expecting an apology anyway. "How was your past two days?"

"Like usual, the doctor was nice tho." He tells you making you smile. Happy that he found the doctor nice. Kim Seohoo. The new doctor that you weren't aware of until this morning when you were looking at the reports of your patients. It was clear that Dr.Kim would take over your patients when you weren't here and vice-a-verse.

"That's good to hear." You speak fixing the button of your coat at 25° angle. "I heard you listened to him?" You lie a question with curious eyes. You needed a good report about Dr.Kim so that Jungkook wasn't uncomfortable with him.

"I can work with him when you're gone." He shrugs. "Anywho, he's less annoying than you."

"I'm glad to hear that being honest."

"Good,"

"Good."

Why would he want to care about your expectations when he can't even match his own. How can yoi be so okay with the idea of him calling you annoying. Now that was annoying to him. This also reminds him of how his mom made a big fuss when he'd cry for help from her. Before he even realized, words fall quick from his mouth. "You know if I told the same thing to my mom back then, she would've punished me."

"Punished you?"

"Punished me." He nods, voice getting a little tense. "I wasn't allowed to eat dinner and breakfast for the following day. She'd punish me." The anger in his voice was evident which made you listen to him fully, keeping your attention to his words. Having a thought to remember them to put in his file.

"I was ten when it all started," He continues. "and I know I was the problem cause my dad would never stop her. He was powerless under her gaze for some reason. What's even worse was that they were in love. He was - still is - in love with her. It hurts me."

"You're not the problem, Jungkook. Every child deserves a parent but not every parent deserves a child. Your parents loved you, your dad lov-" You reassure him but his anger was getting the best of him. Frowned eyebrows, he scoffs aloud cuttig you off.

"Love? Bullshit. If he really did love me, I wouldn't have to go with the bullshit his wife did to me." Hard to believe for him that his dad actually loved him. Hasn't seen his dad for a long time now and hates to see his mom who drops by every now and then.

"Believe me, Jungkook." You remind him the promise of yours, "I mean it when I say that every child deserves a parent. I'm not excusing your parents behaviour towards you, never will, but you have to let it go."

"Let what go?" He scoffs. "Fucking bullshit." He groans under his breath with a tsk.

"If your parents can't forgive you, you need to forgive them. What you went through was sickening and the result for all of it didn't come out too right or good either." You pause, forming words that would make better sense for this situation. "Let them go for your own freedom."

"What freedom? Huh?" His hand forming into a punch as he slaps the front of his thigh, anger waking up giving you a warning to fuck off amd stop giving him knowledge for this so-called 'freedom'.

"Freedom to what you have in future." You sigh, "They already ruined your past. Don't let them ruin your future either. Let them go."

"You're all bullshit." He mutters finally looking away from your eyes, the truth behind your words were big for him to understand yet. He knows you're correct about letting them go. He had to let them go or he'd go more insane day-by-day.

Knock on the wood thrice, or you'll die.

You knock on the bench thrice, the voice in your head was pretty loud to ignore and potential risk was even louder in those noises. Your mind is distracted upon hearing the announcement through the speakers, faint noise of the staff telling the patients to come out of their respective places to come and eat in the cafeteria.

"C'mon, let's go in." You stand up from, the bench as Jungkook does the same not wanting to talk with you anymore. His med time was also near and you were aware cause the way his face settled with a frown was clear enough that he'd go insane any minute.

A mission that you made in your mind was to make sure he knows the taste of freedom every now and then. You're sure that the moment you step in your room, you'd open the bucket list that you made for him to discover and then tick the 'park' box off.

And sure you do that. The first thing when you enter the room after dropping Jungkook off with another nurse and biding him bye, you tick off the 'park' box. It isn't easy for him to travel around and you'd need to ask for permission from authorities but you're more than ready to do it for him. For his taste of freedom.

Grabbing the purse which was resting on the table, you unzip it and pop a pill in your mouth with water in your hand to gulp down. You're aware that freedom costs much more than it intends to.

Yours costed your health and his will cost his youth. He already paid and is waiting for the product while you got the product with your payment due.

Payment to freedom. Road to freedom.

wattpad: CH03 (read on wattpad)

A/N

taglist; @seokout @khadeeeeej ‘to be added in the taglist : 🏷️’

Sorry for the late update, enjoy Jellies! This chapter is available on Wattpad & Tumblr. Links are included.

[istansamwilsonbish]

I have returned to this blog to Yap about the boys....No I'm not gonna make sense. Mind the tags♡

Now that I've had hours to think on it.....Hughie should have actually fought with Annie in the Finale. No, not a fist fight or a breakup. But there should have been WAY more pushback from Hughie. And the fact there wasn't.....Is lowkey upsetting to me.

For one: Yes, I don't really care for Annie. Never really have, never really will. She's not my cup of tea. But this post ISN'T about bashing her. I think that Annie's lashing out makes complete sense. She's been kidnapped and was tortured for ten days. Shifter literally used the fact that Hughie proposed and she fucked him to torment her. I don't dislike Annie's reaction because it does make sense in that moment.

I dislike Hughie's reaction.

Hughie has been taking life like a champ this season. He seems to handle everything with grace. That's not a bad thing but everyone has their breaking point. And this feels like, from a narrative standpoint, should have been Hughie's. Within less than a month, Hughie had to deal with his family Trauma, killing his dad, having his personal business exposed(With the abortion, it is MORE of Annie's personal business. But Hughie was the father of that child, and they seemed to be in it together. It won't be as bad for Hughie, but of course, he felt something.), being sexually assaulted by Ashley and Tek, Almost being murder by Tek and threatened with more sexual assault. That's a lot! Now he found out that he was sexually assaulted again and his girlfriend was locked up who's know where for a week!

That's not mentioning that Hughie was also showing signs of a Trauma response. Hughie mentions constantly having sex with Shifter but Shifter initiated. Despite that, I read this more as Hughie being hypersexual in order to ignore his issues. Shifter initiating just made it easier on Hughie so he didn't have to do it himself. Which is a thing some people do in order to not get called out on that behavior.

After realizing that his Girlfriend has been replaced and he almost died(again), He gets to talk to Annie again. Annie snaps at him and Hughie defends himself a bit but goes into this whole tangent about how he also knew Shifter wasn't Annie? Or how he figured it out in the end? What?

For one, I don't really know what this information would do for Annie. Like I guess it would show how much Hughie loves the small things about her? But within this moment it feels like a nothing burger to me. For two, Hughie has every right to be straight up and actually defend himself. Like what the fuck did Annie expect him to do? Lashing out at him isn't fair because neither of them did anything wrong. And if not that, Hughie should have just left completely with an explanation that being a punching bag for Annie in this moment helps neither of them. Annie isn't in a good state of mind so she's not gonna care about Hughie's feelings. But that doesn't mean Hughie can't protect his own.

But they just completely skip over that with an "Lmaoooo Mens do like the Smexy sexy time! But he likes all the little things about her lol". Then they follow it up with Annie not apologizing. No. That wasn't an actual apology. Lowkey saying that you would still fuck someone and not breaking up with them, ISN'T an apology. She might have done it off screen because they go on to being cool by the end of the finale. So I'll give her that.

All of this just combines to a narrative that doesn't take men's mental health or assault seriously. Hughie should be a loving boyfriend, but it's perfectly fine for him to set boundaries and not be punched down on. This all gets worse because we saw the effects of Deeps' assault on Annie. It was a part of her development and treated pretty seriously. But when it's Hughie.....It's treated like a joke or a nonissue.

[iwanttobepersephone]

Here's the cookie recipe that my family, friends, and even my entire neighborhood are obsessed with but it's literally just the Nestlé recipe with some added sass

So, first things first, you're only gonna need two measuring cups for this, a 1/4 cup and a teaspoon. Sure, you could use a whole cup too, if you wanna do more dishes, but c'mon. You don't wanna do more dishes.

Take out a bowl, and plop in 2 1/4 cups of flour, or 9 passes of the 1/4 cup. Make sure you count because second guessing yourself on if you put in 9 or 11 cups is annoying

Now put in 1 teaspoon of baking soda, and 1 teaspoon of salt. Use the tea spoon to mix it because bringing out a whisk for this one step is just weird (why did my mom insist on me doing that like seriously)

Now you're gonna get your stand mixer and use that bowl, or if you don't have a stand mixer, go to Walmart and buy one. Or use a different bowl I guess idk

In that new bowl, you're gonna add 3 cups of white sugar. Then, you're gonna add 3 cups of BROWN sugar. You're gonna pack the brown sugar, though. Pack it in as good as you can. If you don't have brown sugar cause you forgot to buy it, just add an equal amount of white sugar. It's gonna look super pale but hey don't judge her it's just her winter shade

Now you're gonna add in a teaspoon of vanilla extract, and you're gonna try you're absolutely hardest not to spill, but you're still going to. It's ok I do it everytime and they still turn out pretty ok

Now you're gonna add some softened butter, but we both know you didn't take it out of the fridge, so just soften it in the microwave. Little tip from me: make it every so slightly melted for some good crisp on the edges with a chewy middle, it's so much better that way

And about here is where you realize you didn't preheat the oven, so why don't ya do it now? 375° F, idk how many degrees Celsius and I don't feel like looking it up. It should pre heat in time, probably, just take your time with the rest of these steps

You're gonna turn that mixer on and you're gonna mix it till creamy, got it? Find a spatula that's not flimsy and weird and push down the edges occasionally

Once it's creamy enough (literally just go with the vibes I have no clue what "creamy enough" actually looks like), add in 2 eggs. But do it 1 at a time! Crack one egg, realize how badly you did that, don't panic because the egg can smell fear, and fish out some egg shells if you need to. Mix that until the yellow dissappears and do it again

Now you're gonna add in the flour from the beginning, technically you're supposed to do it slowly with suuuper small amounts at a time, but I literally just do like 1/4 at a time. Just put your mixer on the lowest speed at first so you don't get a face full of flour

Then you're gonna add the chocolate chips in. I don't even know what the "reccomended amount" is because I never listened. Just pour in however much you want, listen to your heart

Now prep your pans with parchment paper and slap those babies in there for 10 minutes. Or, at least, 10 minutes in theory. About half the time 10 minutes does almost nothing and I have to pop em in for another 5.

And boom, you're done, you have cookies. Even if they suck, you have cookies. And bad cookies are always better than no cookies

[moon-spirit-yue]

Fought for Me

Chapter 8: The Best of Romances Deserve Second Chances

(Hey hey! Okay so I gotta be honest, this fic will not focus a whole lot on the reunification of Kumandra. I'm probably gonna make another fic on it, but this is not the one. This fic is purely for drama purposes. Omegaverse definitely isn't everyone's cup of tea so I'm just not focusing on the logistics. This fic (and all others) can be found on ao3! I'll also just post the ao3 link right after this for those who prefer it. The link to previous chapters will be on the ao3 link as well. Anywho, please enjoy!)

Raya began pacing the boat for what was probably the fiftieth time since everyone officially hopped on board. Boun had already dropped himself, Noi, and Tong off to their families. Namaari and Sisu decided to stay with Raya and go the full journey with her back to Heart. Her dragon friend is currently fast asleep without a care in the world.

"You're going to put a hole in that wood if you keep this up," Namaari reminded her.

"I'll put a hole through you, binturi," Raya quickly responded without any of the venom she usually possessed.

"I already got that covered," Namaari said while pointing to the, well, hole in her leg.

"You're right, I'm sorry, I'm very mean when I'm nervous," Raya sighed.

"Look, I get why you're nervous. You haven't seen your father in years, that'd be terrifying for anyone. But he loves you. The whole reason why he wanted to reunite us all was for you," Namaari reminded her.

"Well yeah, but the last time he saw me I was twelve. Now, I have a kid at age eighteen with a very nonexistent partner," Raya groaned.

Okay, technically the partner does exist. However, the partner is still unaware they're the partner so it doesn't really count.

"I'm sure that none of that is going to matter to him once he knows you're okay," Namaari assured her with a light squeeze on her should.

Raya was ashamed to admit to herslef that she missed the warmth of Namaari's hand once she let go. Maybe she'll just chalk it up to the fact that Raya is till soaking wet from her dive with Sisu and any warmth is greatly appreciated.

"You're probably right. I need to calm down," the heart woman sighed while anxiously fiddling with her wet hair.

"Of course I'm right. It happens much more often thank you think," Namaari told her with a grin.

"Don't get cocky, Undercut. You've only just started getting back in my good graces," Raya playfully warned.

"So I already landed a spot huh? And all I had to do was get shot. A small price to pay," Namaari laughed.

Raya resisted the blush crawling onto her face as much as possible and laughed along with the other woman.

"Just at a curiosity, who's with your alleged daughter since you're obviously not?" Namaari asked.

"The hell are you talking about 'alleged'? My daughter is completely real," Raya huffed.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Namaari smugly told her.

"Seriously? Of all the things I'd lie about, that's the one you're going for?" Raya scoffed.

"Hey, until I see the baby, she doesn't exist," Namaari said as if that makes perfect sense. "So who on Earth is with nonexistent baby?"

"Charanya is with very real baby," Raya said with the roll of her eyes.

"Wait, Charanya? Heart girl with long black hair always in a braid, permanent frown, hangs around Tien and is obviously into her?" Namaari asked.

"Huh. So you two have met. Yeah, that's her. We grew up together and we've been sticking by each other all throughout the Druun," Raya explained.

"Huh. Well, the two of us haven't really met. At least not formally. I just see her with Tien quite a bit but she's pretty antisocial. Given the fact that she's from Heart I never really questioned why. Wow. Who knew that the one person that may have actually helped me find you, a thief, was cozying up to my best friend," Namaari said.

"Well if it's any consolation, Charanya hardly knew exactly where I was. The best she'd be able to give you is which land I was in," Raya shrugged.

"That still would have been more information than anyone else could gather. You were very good at covering your tracks," Namaari told her.

At this, Raya smiled.

"So what I'm hearing is, I'm better than you in every way?" Raya asked, absolutely beaming.

"Okay, how is what I said even alluding to the message you got?" Namaari asked with a raised eyebrow.

God, it's so easy to mess with her. Charanya's going to have a field day once she figures that out.

"Well clearly you saying that I'm good at hiding means that you suck at searching. And if you suck at something as simple as searching then you probably suck at everything else," Raya said to elaborate on her personal thought process.

"You certainly jumped to a lot of conclusions there, Raya," Namaari drawled.

"I did jump off a cliff, it's part of who I am," the Heart woman responded easily.

"In heat, too. Seriously, how did you think that was a good idea?" Namaari asked with a frown.

"How did you think it was a good idea to fight me one on one when I was completely surrounded?" Raya shot back.

"I see you won't be letting that go any time soon."

"No, I don't think I will. And be warned, I tell Charanya everything. Prepare yourself because she's not going to let anything go either," Raya laughed.

"Just out of, you know, morbid curiosity, is Charanya your daughter's, um, other parent?" Namaari asked rather awkwardly.

The question made Raya laugh. As if! Even if it weren't genetically impossible, the concept of Raya having a romantic relationship with Charanya is utterly insane.

"Absolutely not. Besides, she-" Raya was cut off by the boat lurching. And boy, did it lurch hard.

Raya's body fell on the steering wheel, Namaari was thrown completely on her side, and Sisu woke up incredibly frazzled due to the movement.

"I SWEAR IT WASN'T MY FAULT-" Sisu yelled in a frenzy before realizing she was just dreaming.

"Huh. She wakes up guilty. That explains so much," Raya grumbled.

"Whuz happnin?" Sisu hastily rushed out.

"A nasty wave hit us. The boat's fine, but I personally would love to be sitting on a chair again," Namaari sighed.

Raya took that as her cue to help a pal out. She picked her own body off from the floor and went to Namaari's aid. The omega tried very hard to ignore the intoxicating scent of the alpha woman but in this proximity it was rather difficult.

Don't breathe her scent in like a creep don't breathe her scent in like a creep don-

"Thanks, Raya," Namaari said once she was upright on her chair once more.

"No problem," Raya smiled.

Oh there's a problem alright. The problem is that now that Namaari isn't an awful binturi it's so much easier to see all her good qualities. This included both mental and physical qualities. Why did the stupid alpha have to be stupidly attractive in her stupid white outfit? Life is so unfair.

Just steer the boat Raya. Steer until you get home with your father- oh damn the panic is back.

"Everything is going to be fine, Raya," Namaari calmly told her.

Great, now she can sense Raya's mood shifts. She's not too sure how she feels about this newfound Namaari ability.

"Aww, are you nervous about seeing your old man again?" Sisu asked.

"With good reason, yes," the Heart woman frowned.

"Oh c'mon, you know he loves you! He sacrificed his life for you!" Sisu reminded her.

"At least someone's sensible on this boat," Namaari drawled.

Sisu is many things, but sensible is simply not on the list. When Raya decides to speak again, she pointedly ignores Namaari's remark.

"I haven't exactly been an angel these past few years," was all Raya said.

Even if she was going to exclude the whole being a teen mother with no alpha in sight, she was still sorta kinda a bad person through the whole six years with the Druun. She's lied, stolen, and gotten in some pretty nasty fights. She's really not sure what her father was capable of forgiving.

"I think you're worrying too much. He'll just be happy to see you," Sisu said with a dismissive flick of her claws.

"That's what I said!" Namaari exclaimed.

"Oooo, same brain! Finally, someone to agree with me when Raya's being crazy!" Sisu squealed excitedly.

"I don't appreciate this sudden uprising against me. Charanya would never treat me this way," Raya huffed.

"Who's Charanya? Oh, is she Aulia's elusive mystery parent?" Sisu asked curiously.

"I asked that too! It's like you're in my head," Namaari gasped excitedly.

Oh god, Namaari is geeking out over Sisu. This is annoyingly endearing. All Raya knows is that she must prevent those two from teaming up at all costs.

"No, Sisu. It's as I told Namaari, Charanya is not Aulia's parent. Aulia's other parent is not in the picture," Raya explained somberly.

Hopefully sounding that sad and pathetic would make them both drop the subject.

"If that's the case then I'm certain you're better off," Namaari assured her.

Poor, oblivious Namaari. She was likely under the impression that the mystery person just abandoned them.

Wow, she now feels incredibly guilty hiding the fact that Namaari's a mother. Granted, she should feel guilty about it, but it was a lot easier when Namaari was nothing more than a thorn in her side.

"Maybe. Oh, Namaari, while we're on the topic of Charanya, I just feel like I should warn you. When I say I tell her everything, I mean everything. Including you," Raya stated.

"Oh my god, she hates me," Namaari accurately concluded with a loud groan.

"Only a lot," Raya nodded.

"Since we're in the spirit of warning each other, Tien is not your biggest fan," Namaari told her.

"Yeah, I could guess that," Raya sighed.

Raya took a certain petty joy in pissing off the great land of Fang. Given the fact that Tien's part of Fang's army and is on track to being on of the land's generals, she doesn't really love how Raya has behaved these past few years.

Understandable, of course. Raya loved making the Fang warrior's lives just a little bit harder. Plus, she knows that the army has wasted time and resources trying to track her down. It makes complete sense that Tien probably wants to punch Raya in the face.

Plus, from what Raya's gathered, Tien is Namaari's closest friend. Naturally, Tien would be against anything that caused Namaari so much agitation.

"Okay, what exactly have you guys been saying about each other?" Sisu asked.

"The truth," Raya and Namaari said in unison.

The two women looked at each other before laughing. It would appear they had more in common than they originally thought.

"People humor is so weird," Sisu frowned.

Light conversation circled around the three of them until they got to Heart's dock. Raya has the sudden urge to vomit. She really hopes Ba still loves her after all this.

"Breathe, it's going to be fine," Namaari firmly told her.

"Right. Fine. Totally okay," Raya plainly stated.

"Yeah, so I can hear you saying it, but I'm not entirely convinced you mean it," Namaari told her.

"Sass me again and I'm stealing your crutch. Try walking after that," Raya scowled.

"Okay, don't do that," Sisu began. "Namaari, you can't reason with crazy. She's just going to have to head down and see for herself that her father actually loves her."

"Seriously Sisu? I bring you back to life and this is the thanks I get? You know what? I'm getting off the boat now. I'm sure you guys can strategize how to gang up against me more effectively once I'm out of earshot," Raya huffed as she determinedly marched off the boat.

"Yikes. Someone's paranoid," Sisu said once Raya was a good distance away.

"And mean. Wait, she didn't actually take my crutch right?" Namaari asked when she came to the realization that she could no longer see it.

"Oh nah, you're good," Sisu said. The crutch was, thankfully, hidden behind a barrel. Crisis averted.

Raya was in absolute awe of all the people roaming the land of Heart. On one hand, it kind of freaks her out being surrounded by so many people. On the other hand, it amazes her that so many of these people wear blue. Heart's color. Her people have returned.

The very proud Princess of Heart kept on walking until she reached the very bridge she was thrown off all those years ago. On this bridge she saw him exactly as he was back then. Outside the crutch and bandage around his leg, of course.

It was her father. Chief Benja of Heart is finally in the flesh. It felt like she couldn't move. She was in awe over seeing him walking, breathing like a human being. All he was doing was picking up a discarded flag the best he could with an injured leg. Yet this simple action left Raya in awe.

Benja caught onto her stares and looked up from the ground and made eye contact with her. He let out an audible gasp and dropped the flag he was holding.

"Dewdrop?" he whispered, tears already in his eyes.

Raya let the tears she didn't even realize she was forming fall across her cheeks and ran over to him. To his credit, Benja did immediately rush to his daughter, but Raya covered ground much quicker with two unharmed legs.

When they finally met in the most memorable hug of Raya's entire life, she actually started to sob because of how warm her father is.

She would touch her father's statue several times these past six years. It was never for long due to how cold it was. The chill gave her no comfort so she had resorted to speaking to it only.

The fact that she can hug him and be enveloped in warmth means everything to Raya.

"Oh, my baby, I love you so much. I just can't believe it's been six years," Her father sobbed as he held her tighter.

"I love you too Ba. I can't believe it either. I missed you while you were gone," Raya choked out.

"I'm sorry I left," he responded.

"The very good news is that Kumandra isn't as crazy as we all thought it was," Raya smiled.

She shifted so that she was hanging off his left arm and pointed to the mass waves of people entering the land.

"How the hell are we supposed to feed them? My cooks have been stone for six years!" Benja hissed in her ear causing Raya to laugh.

Always the most perfect host, even in dire situations.

"Don't worry about it," Raya smiled.

Through the waves of people she saw Boun, Noi, and Tong were all with their own families. They waved as they walked by. Namaari walked by with her mother and gave Raya an encouraging thumbs up. However, Raya feels very thumbs down right now.

Ah well, now's as good of a time as ever.

"Ba, I have something really important to tell. I haven't been the best person around these past six years. I've stolen, like, a lot of things. I've been in my fair share of fights-" Raya rambled.

"Raya, I can confidently say that I could not care less. I'm just happy you're alive. Whatever bad things you did, you did to survive. I would want you to do it all over again if it meant you would be okay. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me love you any less. It doesn't matter at all to me," her father assured her.

Okay, well she started off easy. Raya is pretty relieved to know that those not so minor offenses don't bother him.

"I promise that what I'm about to say next will matter quite a bit to you," Raya sighed, feeling incredibly nervous. Might as well just say it to get it over with. "Ba, I ended up pregnant and having a child. At eighteen. Out of wedlock. And super single. Like, no alpha in sight. Okay I know it sounds bad but I swear I didn't plan it I was very vulnerable and-"

Her father's jaw dropped as she rambled. Raya was scared to give him a chance to speak, worried he would take everything back.

"I'm a grandfather?" Benjas asked, tears welling in his eyes once more.

"Yeah," was all Raya could say.

Her father wrapped her up in a tight hug once more and now Raya finally felt air in her lungs. He was actually okay with the fact that she has a child. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulder.

"Well where is she? Or he? I have to meet my grandchild!" Benja exclaimed.

"She is with Charanya. Her name's Aulia. So you're really not upset at me for having her under these less than ideal circumstances?" Raya asked hopefully.

“Of course not! When I said it’s impossible to make me love you less, I meant it. I just wish I could have been there to support you,” her father sighed while squeezing her shoulders.

“That would have been nice,” Raya agreed while sniffling.

"Oh, Charanya! I've been trying to find her too, but I haven't had much luck. She must have grown so much," Benja sighed.

"Not really, that's the reason why you're having so much trouble finding her," Raya smirked.

Her father laughed at that and allowed Raya to guide him into the swarm of people entering Heart. It was one hell of sight seeing people from every nation mingling with each other after so many years.

Raya didn't really focus too much on those around her as she was trying to find Charanya and her kid. That did remind her that Charanya's mother and grandmother should have returned from stone so it's very likely they already reunited with her.

"Just look for Kim. She's the tall one. Hopefully they're all in one group," Raya told him.

Everywhere she turned, somebody was sobbing tears of joy after seeing their loved one alive once more. It was very heartwarming, but it was also very hard to find her own loved ones.

Then, she saw them all. Kim and Ai, Charanya's beloved grandmother and mother, were alive and well. And the girl that was practically leaning all her weight onto Ai was Charanya. And in Charanya's arms was Aulia. Her baby.

Raya tugged on her father's arm and pointed to the four standing right in front of them.

Kim was the first to notice them. A face of utter relief quickly came over Kim, likely very thankful that Raya and Benja were okay. Kim said something Raya was too far away to hear and pointed in their direction. Ai and Charanya both turned to make eye contact and before anyone knew it, the five adults of the group clamored together a giant hug.

"Oh, Raya, look at you! You look so much like your mother!" Ai smiled with tears in her eyes.

"I can't even believe how you've grown," Kim whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"Charanya, words can not describe how happy I am to see you," Benja grinned as he was crying along with everyone else in the group.

The five of them probably would have stayed in their little circle forever until Aulia squealed upon making eye contact with Raya. To her immense relief, Aulia reached out her cute little baby hands for Raya.

The Heart woman smiled as she held her baby in her arms, wiping away the tears so that her daughter wouldn't see. Raya had been so scared that her child would forget all about her in the months she was gone. Aulia smiled and rested her head on Raya's shoulder, letting her know her fears were completely unwarranted.

"So this is her? This is my granddaughter?" Benja asked in awe.

Charanya gave Raya a look, not entirely sure how much Raya's told him yet. Raya merely smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Here she is. Hey Aulia, say hi to grandpa. Can you wave? Are we at that stage?" Raya asked giggling.

"No, she hasn't-" Charanya began.

She was cut off by Raya's genius baby waving at Benja. Charanya then gasped exicitedly.

"THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME SHE'S EVER WAVED!" Charanayed yelled hgappily.

"Don't even mess with me right now. Did I just witness a baby milestone?" Raya grinned.

"We all did," Ai laughed.

"Can I hold her?" Benja asked hopefully.

"I suppose I can let you two hang out," Raya agreed as she handed over her daughter to her father.

Admittedly, Raya didn't love the idea of letting go of her baby when she literally just got to see her again after what feels like eons, but she relented. Mainly because she desperately wanted Aulia and Benja to bond as soon as possible.

"Oh, hello young lady. It's me, your grandpa. Oh, you're so perfect. Yes you are. Just like your Ma," Benja cooed.

Aulia looked at Benja's facial hair in utter fascination and began rubbing her hands all over his face. Benja simply laughed and allowed the baby onslaught to continue.

Raya was thrilled the two were getting along so well. Then she felt Charanya tugging on her shirt.

"What's up?" Raya mumbled, realizing she would likely want discretion.

"We need to get changed. Now," Charanya bluntly stated.

Raya merely nodded. The shorter omega had that serious tone in her voice that meant something more was going on.

"Ba, Ma, Grandma, we need to change. Right now. I can't stand these clothes any longer," Raya said loudly to attract her family's attention.

"Me neither. I'm going to head up too," Charanya agreed.

Raya hadn't even noticed with all the happy feelings, but Charanya is also soaking wet. What, did she take a dip in the lake?

"Really? Do you need us to come with?" Ai asked worrieldy.

Raya and Charanya were adults. A fact Ai obviously knew. However, Raya did undertsand that she didn't want to be separated from them so soon.

"We'll be fine Ma. We're just going to the palace to take a quick bath. We'll be back so soon you won't even know we were gone," Charanya assured her.

"Alright. You girls be careful now. Don't lose each other," Ai reminded them.

"We're always careful, Ma," Charanya smiled as she kissed Ai's cheek.

The rather exhausted duo walked quietly through the sea of reuniting people. Once they were far enough away from their family, Charanya began to speak.

"There is a reason why I dragged you out outside of our wet clothes, obviously, but we need to wait for that until we're in private," Charanya explained.

"Well even I could have guessed that much," Raya huffed as she dragged Charanya along.

Raya and Charanya were both stopped on several occasions, greeting those who had been some of the first people to turn to stone. The palace was incredibly lively and they were already working on repairs to the castle.

Despite how nice it was connecting with her people again, Raya is itching to get out of these clothes and figure out what the hell Charanya wants to tell her.

"Wait, pause, where do you think we're getting spare clothes? All my things are still on Boun's boat," Raya inquired.

"Seriously? You came home and forgot to grab your shit?" Charnaya asked in a very judgmental manner.

"I'm sorry that the thought of my father disowning me when he found out I had a child out of wedlock distracted me from grabbing my belongings," Raya drawled.

"I suppose I can forgive you this time. And, well, one of the things I wanted to tell you is the fact that the boat we've been living is sorta kinda demolished," Charanya sighed.

There wasn't anyone around in the specific part of the castle, so they can express themselves more freely. Expressing herself to Raya meant a jaw dropped open,

"What, seriously?" Raya gasped, stopping her tracks.

This prompted Charanya to stop as well and confirm it. The place Raya experienced her teenage years in, where her daughter had been living, is gone. Rendered to pieces of wood on the bottom of the lake.

It was just a boat. It's not like either of them even had any claim to it. Even so, it was kind of heartbreaking that the place that held so many memories was now destroyed.

"Yeah. I'm honestly not sure what happened today, but Aulia was crying her damn eyes out for hours. She finally wore herself out when the sun rose so I took a nap as soon as she was down. I woke up because it felt like the boat was going through rocky waters, you know like waves you'd deal with at sea. Obviously, I knew something was wrong since, hello, we were in the middle of the lake. When I woke up, it was like bunch of water was being refilled in the lake so the movement made the boat start to capsize. I had to grab Aulia and abandon ship before we went down with it," Charanya explained.

"Okay, first things first, you're both okay right? Like, no water in the lungs or physical injuries? Was Aulia okay? She wasn't freaked out or upset, was she?" Raya frowned worriedly.

"We're both fine. I made sure her face never went under water or anything. Besides, you've met your daughter right? The little psycho loves water. The only time she started feeling upset was when we left the lake," Charanya said while rolling her eyes.

The eye roll didn't fool Raya, Charanya loves that kid more than she loves herself.

"That sounds like her. She's so fearless. She'll make an excellent chief one day," Raya smugly told her.

Oh shit. Aulia's going to be a chief one day. There's an actual land for her to run now. Raya has to raise a freaking chief. Suddenly, she's feeling a tad nauseous. Boy, is it getting hot in here?

"Sunshine? You okay?" Charanya asked with furrowed brows.

"Just the reality of everything starting to hit me. It never even crossed my mind that she'd have people to lead one day. Not realistically, at least," Raya sighed.

Charanya put both hands on Raya's shoulders and squeezed tightly. The shorter woman opened her mouth, probably to try and comfort Raya, but instead she just let out a big yawn. The duo stared at each other for a moment before breaking out into quiet giggles.

"Alright, let's go bathe before you fall asleep standing up. I think some of Ba's clothes are untouched, we can just take his," Raya informed her.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that! There's just something extra cozy about taking other people's clothing," Charanya nodded.

"I know right? Now let me tell you exactly why our boat capsized," Raya began.

She divulged into the full story of her adventures from getting the scroll to finding Sisu and managing to acquire all the gem pieces. Charanya interrupted her with questions dozens of times before they made it to Ba's room.

It looked exactly how Raya remembered it. Neither girl wanted to come back here when the Druun were roaming the Earth. The obvious reason was the fact that they had very little desire to get turned to stone. The other reason was that they couldn't stand to see the statues that were once people. Heart's palace with being utterly deserted was too much for them to bare.

Both girls rummaged through the closet to pick out their favorite Ba sized clothes. Once they grabbed what they liked, they rushed to the nearest bathroom and prayed everything would still work despite the fact that it's been years since it was used.

This specific bathroom had two tubs that were parallel of each other. To Raya and Charanya's relief, both bath tubs immediately started to run the second they turned the faucets on. With their backs turned, both women began to take off the very wet clothes they wore.

"You good over there?" Raya asked since she was fully submerged in the tub. The only thing Charanya would be able to see would be her head.

"Yeah, all set," the other omega confirmed.

Raya turned around to face Charanya. Her head was poking out above the water and she had already began to wash her hair.

"Okay, you and I need to get our stories straight," Charanya told her once she finished scrubbing her head.

"Kindly elaborate," Raya said.

Raya began to follow in Charanya's footsteps and began to wash her hair. It's been too long since she's been able to properly clean like this. Because no, spontaneous dives in random bodies of water do not count.

"What are we lying to our parents about? What are telling them? What half truths are we putting out? Especially when it comes to our girl that's slowly gaining adoring fans," Charanya explained.

She made a good point. Some things really shouldn't be said.

"We'll start with you since you have way less to hide," Raya nodded.

"Kay. Uh, I did already tell ma and grandma about the whole 'hiding out in the brothel' thing. They didn't care. The fact that I wasn't actually a sex worker probably helped. I don't care if you tell Ba about that, either. I haven't mentioned either of my heat partners, but honestly I think it's fine if that's brought up too. No one's exactly in a place to judge there," Charanya snorted.

Raya supposed it’d have to come out at some point. Charanya's heats were too painful and Raya's were long enough to the point where she legitimately exhausted. In the event they can't get their hands on the drugs that suppress the symptoms, they have no choice but to spend it with someone else.

Neither girls particularly enjoy talking about the heat partners they had for obvious reasons. Granted, it’s not necessarily something to be ashamed of as plenty of omegas and alphas have a difficult time going through a heat or rut solo at this age. Still, who the hell wants to announce this kind of stuff.

"Right. It was that one girl from Talon and the Fang girl when Aulia was born, right?" Raya asked. God, the days blurred together.

"Oh fun fact, I didn't actually sleep with the Fang girl, I just dreamt I did. It was super realistic. She just used her scent to soothe me to sleep, which does explain why I don't remember any pain. It's just the Talon girl. Your only other heat partner besides you know who was the girl from Spine, right?" Charanya questioned. Apparently her days blurred together too.

"Correct. Anything else you want to cover up?" Raya asked.

"Please, do not tell them about my whole thing with Tien. They're going to be nosy and I'm going to have a psychotic break. Also," Charanya hesitated a bit before continuing. "Don't mention my uh, heat before the last."

Raya sighed and pursed her lips. That particular heat was the exact reason why partners or drugs were necessary.

"Fine, but I really think you should tell them eventually," Raya conceded.

"I will. But just, later on once we're all more adjusted. That's about all I could need to cover up. Your turn," Charanya agreed.

"Okay. No need to mention the heat I spent with, uh, that girl. I'll probably mention the Spine girl later though. Obviously, Aulia's parentage is off the table. Ba knows I've done bad stuff, but he doesn't have specifics. As long as you're not recounting specific stories, it should be fine. I'm pretty sure that's it," Raya concluded.

"Good," Charanya yawned.

Raya was about to relax but immediately jolted forwards. There was one minor detail that Charanya really needs to know.

"Wait, I lied. Okay, so I told everyone that Aulia's a year old so that it doesn't align when that specific woman and I were together. There’s no way a one year old could be hers,” Raya explained like the genius she is.

“Strategic. I like it,” Charanya stated with a nod of approval.

Then a thought popped up in Raya's head. It was an insane thought, but who better to hear an insane thought than Charanya, who could easily be the chief of insane?

"Do you think I should tell Aulia's other mother about her?" Raya asked.

Charanya, who previously looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep, was now wide awake. She then gave Raya a look as if she grew at least seven new heads.

"That's a terrible idea!" Charanya hissed.

Wow. Okay. The Heart princess was not expecting such a severely negative reaction.

Charanya groaned and put pressure on her temples. A very tell tale sign that she's trying not to freak out.

"I'm sorry, that was extreme, but I stand by the general message. I mean, Kumandra is just starting. I hate thinking about Aulia as some political tool, but we can't ignore the fact that she's your daughter. Heir to the Heart throne,” Charanya huffed. “My point is, she’s also that girl’s daughter. Another heir to another throne. This needs to be handled delicately."

"Fuck me, I didn't think about the politics involved. This completely sucks," Raya groaned.

Maybe she should just drown herself in the tub and get it over with.

“And I’m sorry, I get that she’s supposedly reformed and all, but you really don't know her that well. What if she gets all pissed and tries taking Aulia away from us? She is an alpha, Raya. Many would say the she'd have every right to. Plus, even if you trust mother number two enough, what about Aulia's grandmother? What do you think she will do to retaliate?" Charanya reminded her.

Yeah, so Raya didn't think about that either. She is so screwed. She is so very screwed. Maybe Namaari doesn't have to know she has a kid! Maybe Raya can pretend like she magically came to be with child! Like one day it just happened! No sex necessary! That can be possible, right?

"Is it too late to change our names and run away? There's a cozy little village in Talon that'd suit us and our parents very well," Raya winced.

"I am not opposed," Charanya sighed. After a couple minutes of silence, she spoke up again. "You really think Namaari can be trusted?"

Raya paused for a moment so that she could think about she was going to say.

"Yeah, I do. She changed, from when we were kids. I told you, she saved my life more than once. The reason why she's hobbling around on crutches was from saving me. We established a peaceful meeting and she held up her end of the bargain, some Fang warriors followed. It wasn't her fault and she did do the right thing," Raya decided. "So I think she can be trusted."

Charanya gave her a very long stare before nodding and going back to scrubbing her hair.

"Alright. I'll accept that answer for now. I still don't like her," Charanya stated childishly.

Raya scoffed and rolled her eyes. Heaven forbid Charanya actually cooperate.

"Fine. That means I don't have to like Tien," Raya shot back.

Honestly, Raya really doesn't like her. The more she thinks about the whole situation between the two, the more irritated Raya gets. The woman's been stringing her childhood friend around for a solid two years. Maybe she's just overprotective, but Tien needs to grow a damn spine and be more direct or just back off so that Charanya can move on. The weird back and forth thing is only going to hurt her friend the longer it goes on.

"Deal," Charanya sighed. "And I hope you know I'm not saying you should hide the truth forever about Aulia's parentage. They both have a right to know. Hell, they might figure it out anyway if Aulia ends up looking too much like her. But I really don't think now's the time."

"You're totally right. Besides, I really don't know how much more I can take today," Raya sighed as she finished getting all of the grime out of her hair.

"You're telling me," Charanya snorted.

At that point there wasn't much washing left to do, so they emerged from the tubs and began to dress in clothes much too big for either of them.

"Braid my hair for me would ya?" Charanya asked now that they were both fully clothed.

Raya nodded and obliged. She was an excellent braider. If braiding was a profession and Raya wasn't set to be Chief of Heart, she could easily have gotten that job.

"Now that the serious stuff is sorted out, let's go!" Charanya grinned as she eagerly tugged Raya's arm.

"Slow down tiger, where's this energy coming from?" Raya laughed.

"Isn't it obvious? I have a ma again," Charanya beamed.

That was all the explanation Raya needed. The two took off and weaved through the crowd of people in order to find their family.

Boy did they find their family alright.

Conversing with Namaari and Tien's family. Sweet hell neither of them got a break. The two gave each other a look before putting on their brave faces and entering the chaos.

For the love of everything, please let this be a normal interaction.

"Oh good, you girls are-" Benja paused and gave them a full once over. "Are you two wearing my clothes?"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?" Raya and Charanya asked at the same time, really dragging out the the 'a' sound.

"We would never do such a thing," Charanya lied.

"How dare you accuse us, Father. I gave you a grandchild. Be more grateful please," Raya huffed.

Benja rolled his eyes but didn't press the issue because he genuinely didn't care. Both girls stole his clothes all the time growing up. Plus, Raya could see the small smile on his face when he noticed. He looked at Aulia cozying up to him in his arms and smiled brightly.

"Are you going to steal my clothes when you get older too? Are you going to be a thief like your Ma?" her ba cooed at Aulia.

"I resent that statement," Raya frowned.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charanya and Tien begin their own conversation on the side with their families. Raya hadn't even realized Virana and Namaari had been speaking until her father nudged her.

"Huh?" Raya asked dumbly.

"I asked if you were okay. You zoned out for a moment," Namaari informed her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's been a long day," Raya admitted sheepishly.

"Indeed it has been," Viranan agreed.

Now Raya ahd to be honest with herself, she wasn't ecstatic about being so close to Virana after the previous events. So, Raya merely nodded and moved on.

"Hey Ba, I can hold her now so," Raya started, only for her father to pout.

So that's where Raya gets it from. Of course.

"Do I have to? Can't I have five more minutes?" her father asked.

"You realize she's not a toy, right?" Raya snorted.

"I know, but she's been around for a whole year and I haven't been able to hang out with her until now! Bonding is important," Benja firmly stated.

"Sure Ba, you can keep on holding her," Raya laughed.

The conversation had quickly become all about the baby. Benja and Virana ended up getting wrapped up in sharing their own experiences with raising their children.

"I say we spare both of ourselves the embarrassment and walk away now," Raya told Namaari.

"I literally could not agree more," Namaari nodded.

The two sped walk to a distance where they couldn't hear their parents, but they were still in their line of sight.

"I can not believe you actually thought your father would be upset. It's been what, twenty minutes since they met? She's got him wrapped around her finger," Namaari laughed.

"Admittedly, my fears were unwarranted," Raya shrugged.

This means Namaari was right. Ugh. Now that was a hard pill to swallow.

"You can admit you were totally wrong whenever you're ready, Raya. I'll be here for awhile," Namaari smirked.

What a fucking binturi.

"Bite me," Raya drawled.

Namaari opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted with Charanya dragging Tien over.

"Oh Tien, you know that friend I'm always telling you about? Well this is she! Meet Raya," Charanya said with a bright smile.

Raya waved. She opened her mouth to make some form of an introduction, but Tien beat her to it.

"Okay, pause. The friend you've been talking about all this time is Raya? Princess Raya of Heart? As in, the girl I have been trying to hunt down for months? That same Raya?" Tien asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You're a quick study," Charanya confirmed.

"And you didn't think this is something I should know about?" Tien asked with irritation in her voice.

"Well I'm not a snitch, Tien," Charanya said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Raya had to physically bite her own lip to keep herself from smiling. At least Charanya would always have her back.

"We will be circling back to this later. It's nice to meet you under better circumstances, Princess Raya," Tien said as she bowed and made the gem symbol.

"There's no need for the formalities. Raya is perfectly fine," the omega smile politely.

Ugh, she can't believe she has to act polite now. Civilization sucks.

"Sure, Raya," Tien nodded politely.

At least it was obvious Tien didn't like being polite either. Raya wasn't expecting her to, if she was going to be honest. Alas, both Charanya and Namaari were important people in Raya and Tien's life, so coexisting would just have to do. And given the looks Charanya and Namaari were giving each other, they felt the same way.

"Well, in the spirit of introductions, Charanya, meet Namaari. Namaari, this is Charanya," Raya smiled.

Hopefully this would distract her from the annoyance Tien's presence gives her.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you. You don't have to use my official title, it's odd hearing from peers," Namaari said while forming the gem symbol.

"Got it. Nice to meet you as well," Charanya said as she too formed the gem symbol.

However, Charanya was eyeing Namaari up and down in the most judgmental way possible. While it was hilarious, Raya didn't want to mediate. Time to say something that can make even the most vicious warriors calm down.

"So. I say we all grab a bite to eat. Who's with me?" Raya asked.

The other three were very quick to agree. The chefs had been hopping onto the cooking since the early morning so there was plenty of delicious food for them to eat.

In no time at all, the four of them were eating on a little blanket while their parents sat at table a few feet away from them. Raya finally got the chance to get her baby back from her father so now Aulia is sitting on Raya's lap as she eats.

However, Aulia got bored and crawled out of her mother's lap and gravitated to Namaari. Immediately, the alpha's face beamed when she noticed Aulia was moving to greet her.

"Oh hello, sweetheart. Look at you, moving so fast. You must get that from your Ma," Namaari cooed.

Deciding that she quite enjoyed the compliments she was receiving, Aulia crawled right onto Namaari's lap. Namaari didn't mind at all but seemed a tad unsure of what to do.

"You can hold her, you know. She doesn't- wait, no. She does bite. She is a biter," Raya told her.

Namaari clearly didn't mind the biting warning and scooped Aulia up to hold her in her arms. Raya was very amused to see Namaari respond to Aulia's mindless babbles as if it was an intelligent conversation.

Kind makes Raya wonder what life would have been like if-

Nope. Not going there.

"Hey, she's a year old right?" Namaari asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, her first birthday passed a few days ago," Charanya falsely confirmed.

"Huh," Namaari hummed.

"Well what's that supposed to mean?" Charanya asked with agitation in her voice.

And now Ranya's starting shit. That is so typical of her. Raya wondered if Tien was going to step in, but she was like Raya. Very amused and wants to see how this plays out.

"I didn't mean anything by it. It's just she's a tad small for a one year old," Namaari easily replied.

"Well I've been the only one feeding her. Are you trying to suggest I've been malnourishing my god daughter?" Charanya frowned with narrowed eyes.

Raya mentally willed Namaari to look at her so that she could shake her head. Charanya is completely, without a doubt, baiting Namaari. If Charanya finds out just how easy it is to mess with Namaari, the Fang alpha will never know peace.

Unfortunately, true to her character, Namaari took the rather obvious bait.

"No, of course not! What I mean to say is-" Namaari rambled out before getting cut off by Charanya's laughter.

"Relax, I was messing with you! Who would have guessed the Princess of Fang would be so easy?" Charanya giggled.

"I tried warning you," Raya shrugged when Namaari gave her a hopeless look.

"In what way? Inquiring minds want to know," Namaari scoffed.

"In my mind, duh," Raya stated.

"I see why you two have remained friends for so long," Tien said while looking between Raya and Charanya.

"Don't be crabby just because you don't understand how cool we are," Charanya smirked.

"Don't even start-"

******************************

The four girls had a surprisingly pleasant evening despite the obvious animosities certain people held for other certain people. Even if the evening was pleasant, Raya was still beyond relieved to get to bed.

Charanya and her family were staying in one of the guest rooms of the Heart palace due to the fact that their original home was destroyed by the Druun years ago. Charanya attempted to protest but all Raya had to say was that Aulia would miss her and suddenly she had no arguments.

Raya's got a long life of using her daughter to get her way. It sounds awful, but it's for the good of the world.

Besides, Raya knew for a fact Charanya was comfortable. She walked by the room they were all staying in and Charanya was curled up against her mother. She was dead asleep and purring her little heart out. Raya can not remember the last time she heard Charanya purr before this. It was too long given how a purring omega is a happy one. Raya made sure to close the door before she wondered to her own room.

Well, her father's room. As of right now, same difference.

Raya had Aulia's crib set up in her father's room where she would also be sleeping. Though neither Raya nor her father really discussed it out loud, being too far away from each other right now was simply not an option.

Aulia passed out almost immediately when she got into her crib, which is a blessing in it's own right. She must have been exhausted from the very exciting day she had.

Raya hopped into bed and saw her father walk in only a few moments later.

"Damn, I thought beat you here," Benja huffed.

"I'm too fast for you old man, admit it," Raya giggled.

"Whatever. Scoot over," he huffed.

Once Benja was settled, Raya rested her head on his should and closed her eyes. She made sure to be cautious of his bad leg when adjusting herself to be more comfortable.

"Hey Dewdrop?" her father whispered.

"Wassup?" Raya mumbled, already feeling sleep tug at her.

"I realize that the situation with Aulia's other parent is delicate and you don't want to talk about so I'm only going to ask one question and I will drop it forever until you're ready to tell me. Is the parent still alive?" Benja asked.

"Yeah. Still alive," Raya tiredly confirmed.

She can't see the harm in answering that question.

"Why do you ask Ba?" Raya yawned.

"Because I wanted to know if there was hope for the chance to beat their ass for hurting my little girl," Benja stated.

Ah. She should have known.

"Seriously? For the record, I could totally beat them up myself."

She'd know. She's done it many tines before.

"Well obviously, but it's my right as an alpha father to beat everyone up that makes you upset."

"Would you like a list?"

"Yes."

"I was kidding, Ba."

"I wasn't."

"Goodnight, Ba."

"Goodnight, Raya."

[kinardsevan]

10 TV Shows

Tagged by @v88sy. Please feel free to join.

Veronica Mars

I love a lot of procedurals, but this one found me at 19 and stole my soul. I love Kristen so much and refuse to accept that the final few minutes of season 4 exists. This is my ultimate rewatch, s1 all the way through. (Still haven't finished s4 though because of its ending).

2. Castle

Again. 19. Found this one in the same year, found out it was a crime procedural with a writer as the protagonist. SIGN ME THE FUCK UP.

3. Law and Order (original recipe)

I've only seen from s13 on because of the limitations with NBC streaming options, but I do love Jack. Dick Wolf found lightning in a bottle with this franchise.

4. Criminal Minds

(have we sensed a theme here yet?)

Guess when I found this one? (Still 2011.) My mom loved Shemar Moore on Y&R when I was a kid, so starting this one was easy. She doesn't get into the borderline gore and horror of CM though, so she'll really only watch the lighter episodes. Me? Seen everything up through 15 (school and work have kept me too busy for 16 yet).

5. 9-1-1

SOMETHING FROM AFTER 2011?! Found this one in the pandie. My best friend was watching it (we'd talked about it a few times from what I recall), and I know my mom was already into it and I had plans to watch it, but I was already in school, and 2019/20 was rough on my mental health between my job closing its doors, the pandemic starting, and me being back in school. Buck has literally always been my favorite. He's who I relate to most, and given the focus I put into the most recent rewatch, it's obvious why. We have a lot of things in common, both personality-wise and with childhood trauma. That all said, I've had spurts and starts with this baby. Started it in 2020, got caught up. Went through the mess of school taking over my life and falling off here and there, playing catch-up. I know I was fairly caught up in season 6, but post-infection with the brain damage, I kinda had to do the full rewatch this year.

6. Grey's Anatomy

Quite literally grew up with this one. My aunt told my mom, who told us, and then by season 3, the whole family was watching. I fell off for a beat when Mark died (he was my favorite), but then really fell off when Derek died. Only started playing catch up when I found out about Nick and the fact that Ellen wanted to leave the show. I knew they'd give her a happy ending (of sorts), which drove me to watch everything I'd missed (plus my mom still watched even when I quit, so I knew about Deluca, who she loved).

7. Nashville

Loved this one basically from the jump. Anything with music has the opportunity to steal my soul. It's also one of the reasons I can't get into the hate for Abby on 9-1-1. This show made me loved Connie Britton too much.

8. Schitt's Creek

So this one 😂😂😂 I think I started Schitts Creek three(?) separate times? Never got into it. The humor was too dry, I didn't really feel anything about it all, and...idk. It was just not my cup of tea.

And then my life went to shit 😂😂😂 In all seriousness though, this was one of those shows that I can point to and say "this one saved me". The way it made me laugh in the face of some really unimaginable pain and an existential crisis is something I will never forget. Definitely due for a rewatch this summer.

9. One Tree Hill

So. I started this show in season 2. Went out of my way to watch it after starting The OC halfway through both shows inaugural seasons. Literally everyone I knew didn't give two craps about this show then. They didn't care when it was nearly cancelled after season 4, and how hard the fans fought for season 5. Most of them didn't even really care after season 6 when CMM and Hilarie Burton were cut from the show. Nah, most of the people I know found OTH when it hit streaming a few years ago. I have complicated feelings about it now, given what we know about how MS treated the girls, and all of the trauma inflicted on them. I know that SB, HB, and BJL all support us still watching, but it's rough for me to contend with that even so.

10. Pretty Little Liars

So..... I haven't watched this since it ended. It started when I was 17/18, so I was easily sucked in by the teacher/student concept and fell in love with Ezria. I also had watched American Juniors and knew who Lucy was (and subsequently lusted after her making music for AGES; still do). However, being a full-fledged adult now with babies in school (my niece is in HS now), I can't justify how problematic this ship is.

BONUS:

11. Instant Star

Soooo a generous chunk of people know who Tim Rozon is now because of Schitts Creek and Wynona Earp, but have they seen this baby? Because I started this one after remembering Alexz Johnson from So Weird when she eneded up on IS in 2004. This was the show that got me through the end of of middle school and into high school, and I still listen to the music occasionally. I've done a few rewatches of it as an adult, and while I still don't like the age difference, these two at least waited until she was 18.

[true-blue-sonic]

Hello, Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening!!

For the Ask Game: Blaze

do I like them:

Blaze used to be my favourite character when I first got into Sonic, and she's still my favourite female character of the whole cast. So yep! ^-^

5 good qualities:

Even though she is a princess, she never lets that power get to her head. Instead, she treats her responsibilities with the utmost seriousness, and we can see in Rush Adventure that her subjects adore her.

Once she has become available in Rush Adventure, the player has NO reason to EVER play with Sonic anymore (except for the obligatory minigame islands, iirc?): Blaze's jump is so much higher, she's got flame resistance (hello, Sky Babylon), and I never got the feeling she is even remotely slower than Sonic or has a slower-raising Tension Gauge. Blaze's gameplay is superior in every way; change my mind.

Speaking about fire, pyrokinesis! Love myself some psychic powers :> I also like how the drawbacks of possessing such powers are touched upon, with Blaze being isolated due to her duties and because people fear her powers(?), and then furthermore also inflicting that isolation on herself and rejecting friendship. It's a surprisingly realistic description of what it would be like to have such powers in a world where no-one else does, in my opinion.

Sonic Rush has an amazing storyline: sweet, touching, interesting, and simply plain fun! I couldn't have asked for a better game for Blaze to be introduced in, not to mention she plays just as good as/even better than Sonic himself.

I honestly can't recall ever disliking one of her voice actors, even though she's undergone some changes in those over time. They don't all sound the exact same, but I feel like they all give Blaze a voice that nicely fits her.

3 bad qualities:

Does she have a family? Does she have parents or other kin who rule over the kingdom while she is away on adventures? Eggman Nega states it was her royal family who kept the Scepter safe for ages in Rush Adventure, but no mention is made of whether they are alive or not. Blaze herself states she 'has always been alone because of her powers' in Rush, so just what is going on with her family?

It's also hard to think of any for her, just like with Espio... Maybe, for a character who is often linked with Silver, it would be nice to actually see the two build up the friendship they had in 06? I feel like it would make their team-ups be a bit more believable than just 06 nostalgia.

favourite episode/etc:

Sonic Rush! I also like the final boss of Rush Adventure, with Sonic telling her she has to keep a level head as Princess of the Sol Empire to protect her people.

otp:

Used to be Silvaze, currently none.

brotp:

With Silver!

ot3:

Also none.

notp:

And none!

best quote:

Her speech from Sonic Rush in her storyline when fighting Sonic and the aftermath always touched me; even without voice acting, it is raw and full of emotion without diving into angst territory, in my opinion. It also helps that it is short but sweet, and it gives a good explanation just why Blaze is so opposed to having friends. And afterwards, when Sonic gives her his advice, she listens! For me, it very nicely shows off her character development over the game.

head canon:

Has learned over time to use her pyrokinesis for more mundane things, like heating up a cold cup of tea or starting a fire in the fireplace with little issue. She used to dislike doing that before meeting Sonic because she felt that was a banal use of her powers, but she's warmed up to the idea that they exist to make life easier for her and others, and thus can be used for the simple and more unimportant things as well.

[iceofqueensword]

Oh, man. 10 of fucking November I was saving it as a draft. Only now I got to post this whole thing! I seriously need to get my priorities straight. I like to write stories and to paint, I like stupid jokes, and all this stuff seemed to disappear a bit from my life currently. A huge bit (yeah, I know, this sentence doesn't make sense). So I want to go back on track with all the ideas I had in mind when I created this blog. Otherwise... I noticed, how lately I only do what exhaust me. Some things are out of my impact, some are not. Choosing what to write is definitely one of those I can change. It looks like a grandma's page, istg. Becoming a boring official-like page. Meh :/

Reality check 😆

I don't know why, but Jongho does have an impression of a usual person. Like... Whenever I look at Jongho promo photos, I see a photo of the best student at school/ best worker in the company 😭 Your Asian parents are pointing at him and telling you: see? You should be like him. Try harder. I don't why, please, don't find it offensive 😅 Come to think of it, being the best student is not usual... 🧐 This impression disappears on stage completely 😌 Jongho, you ARE a celebrity, don't worry 😆

In my dream about past life, where I saw many idols studying at the same school, Yunho interrupted Seonghwa, when he was about to kiss a girl he liked 🌚 I guess it added some antipathy 😆 Yunho came into room, asked loudly: "Hey, guys, what's up?" - and the atmosphere was broken. Seonghwa didn't talk to Yunho for a week. 😆

...

Well, I don't know about king's face, but I can imagine them being different types of killers. 😁

Hongjoong:

Tried to murder a person once. Pretended to be drunk by spilling alcohol on clothes and starting a fight. Got stabbed instead, ended his murder's career before starting, having a small business, fine like this. He likes to listen to friends' stories, when they are talking about their job.

San, Yeosang:

Scheduled a meeting with object at 4 PM. Killed without anger, emotions, simply doing a job. Even feeling guilty a little.

— Sorry, buddy. Gotta feed my family.

Yeosang to San:

— You could find a normal job. It's not necessary to kill people to live.

San, pouting:

— Did you see prices for child products?! No way I can feed my daughter with "normal" job! Don't you have a daughter also?

Yeosang, laughing:

— I do. And I want to buy her a new toy until the store is closed. Hurry up.

Wooyoung:

Becoming close with object. Talking to a victim a lot, speaking about everything that other people are talking about the object.

— Your wife is cheating on you with her coworker.

— R-really?..

— Yeah! They are doing it for two years already. Your daughter thinks you are a complete loser! She is laughing at your cheap gifts with her friends.

— Oh...

— And you know what? — added Wooyoung, while stirring poison in a cup of tea. — Your best friend never liked...

Wooyoung stopped stirring a drink and looked at the dead body. He sighed loudly, called his boss.

— I am sorry... I failed again. Boss, I will do better next time! What? No, he is dead. But I didn't kill him. I was just talking... Prepared a poison... And I looked at him, he already did it himself. Okay. I don't deserve a raise... Thank you.

Yunho, Mingi:

Mingi is living with Yunho. He is doing all the chores. Never killed a person in his entire life. Just like Alfonso Elric, always misunderstood for Yunho, the most scaring killer. Killing painlessly? Call him. Killing after hours of tortures? Call him, Yunho would do it with even more enthusiasm. And pretty smile.

Mingi, opening a door, wearing a white T-shirt with red stains, holding a knife:

— What do you want?

A person, who was standing behind the door, slowly sat on the floor.

— Y-you must be Yunho, r-right?

Mingi, innocently:

— Ah, no! Yunho! It's your guest!

Yunho, wearing a t-shirt with puppy, smiling happily (because of an exciting new work):

— Yes?

A guest, not believing his eyes:

— Um... Then what are these stains?

Mingi, embarrassed, looking at his clothes:

— Sorry, I was cooking...

Seonghwa, Jongho:

Seonghwa is working as a psychotherapist. He is listening to victim's worries a lot. Then offering a poisoned cookie, a lot of those are lying on a plate in the room.

Waiting for Jongho, who will get rid of a body.

Jongho is a policeman. Covering his friends all the time. Wannabe priest. Telling his friends, that killing is bad. Ending up helping them anyway. After all, Jongho morals are telling him, that helping friends is more important than saving unknown people.

— You will burn in hell, — said Jongho to Seonghwa, who was lying in a bathroom.

Seonghwa, diving deeper into hot water:

— I already do. Would you be so kind to make me a tea?

— With a cookie? — asked Jongho sarcastically.

Seonghwa, laughing:

— You don't know a recipe. Just tea.

[oddaodd]

· Wailing Teapots ·

Summary: When Tommy begins suspecting of Y/n's true allegiances he goes and questions her in her apartment only to discover a dark secret. (Angst/Fluff)

Warnings: Implications of abuse. (Nothing too graphic but just in case).

Author's note: I'm back! It feels so good to write again! My life has been a bit hectic lately, but I hope I can continue to make time for my writing because it honestly feels like coming back home after the most exhausting of voyages. Anyhow I hope y'all enjoy this and have the loveliest of days. ❤️

·

Three strong knocks on the door stole Y/n’s attention from the live fire burning in her fireplace. With quiet feet she tiptoed to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob and stood still hoping to hear something that could tell her who it was behind the door, but she could only hear her own heartbeat beating violently in her ribcage as she held her breath.

She slightly hated herself for being afraid, but she couldn’t not be afraid, not with all the letters that had been delivered to her home.

“I know you’re in there Y/n”

As soon as she recognized the voice as Tommy’s, she finally breathed again before partly opening the door a weak smile gracing her features when she took in the sight of him. Before she could ask him what he was doing there he pushed the door open and allowed himself inside.

The smile vanished from her face in an instant and she quickly closed the door. There was something different about him, something that made the hairs on her arms stand up in trepidation. His eyes didn’t look like they had done a few nights prior when he took Y/n to the outskirts of town for a walk. The kind of walk in which one shares the kind of conversations that makes people grow closer together, the kind of walk which ends with a gentle kisses and fleeting touches.

“This is a nice place” he commented taking off his peaky cap, not even sparing Y/n a glance as he began walking slowly through the apartment which though small and plain held a considerable amount of expensive yet tasteful looking knick knacks that brightened up the whole place despite the old furniture that had beed there when Y/n first moved in.

“You couldn’t have waited for a formal invitation, could you?” She asked in a light tone still standing by the door, in the hope that it could change Tommy’s odd aura, but he ignored her question all together

“Almost too nice, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked picking up a vase and examining it before finally turning to look at Y/n.

“Tommy?” She asked, not really knowing why was he acting so strange.

“I know I pay you fair wages” he began, putting the vase down fixing his eyes on the fireplace where small traces of burnt paper rested “but I highly doubt you were able to make yourself of such an array of treasures with what I pay you.”

“All of this came with me from America.” She said feeling like she ought to explain herself and though her answer was an honest one, Tommy didn’t seem convinced, nevertheless, he hummed in mocking understanding before clearing his throat .

“Aren’t you gonna offer me tea?”

“Sure…where are my manners?” she said with a nervous laugh before walking to where her stove was and putting a kettle on.

Tommy followed her closely and drew a chair from her flimsy kitchen table before sitting down and taking notice of her shaky hands as she tied around a bit in the kitchen with her back to him as he sat on her favorite chair.

“Wish you had told me you were coming, I would have..”she began as she opened her pantry to put away some bread.

“You’ve been burning letters” he interrupted, not being able to shake off the image of the paper remains.

Y/n stilled for a moment before closing her pantry, thing which he noticed.

“Yeah, I don’t have the room to keep every single letter I get ” Y/n said, a defensiveness lingering softly in her words.

“I agree” Tommy said in a cold tone “specially when you are getting so many of them. Paul tells me he delivers at least 10 a week here” he continued, referring to the mailman who after being questioned by Tommy forgot all about post confidentiality.

“They are my mother’s” Y/n stuttered out.

The teapot then wailed, making her jump slightly before going to remove it from the stove and finally turning around to go and pour Tommy a cup.

“Right” Tommy said, his eyes not leaving Y/n’s figure as she poured the tea.

“Yeah, she’s ever so passionate about plants, been telling me all a-a-about her new greenhouse.” She continued pressured by Tommy’s heavy stare and silence.

Tommy offered a small cynical smile that Y/n didn’t see, she didn’t want to look at him. She felt like crying for she realized just then how suspicious she looked.

The sound of the chair being drawn again teased at Y/N’s ears, forcing her to look up at Tommy who was calmly walking towards her. She had never been afraid of him, but she couldn’t help but back away as he inched closer to her, her eyes widening.

“Who is Clyde Attenborough?” He asked producing another letter from his pocked like the many ones Y/n had been receiving for a while now. Same stamps and everything.

Color drained from her face at the sight of the letter and she found herself unable to produce an answer as her back came in soft contact with her pantry.

“What does he know? He asked.

“Where I live” Y/n whispered sorrowfully as a tear finally slipped down her cheek. Her eyes being for mercy.

“What have you been telling him?”

“Nothing” she answered truly.

“I bet he pays generously to know how the company works”

“I swear im not working for anyone else” Y/n stuttered, finally understanding why Tommy was so suspicious. Being his secretary, she knew plenty about the skeletons the family kept.

“Then why are you crying?” He pressed.

“Because you’re scaring me.”

Her words seemed to have an effect on Tommy for he immediately backed away, throwing the letter on the table, his back to her.

”I’m not gonna hurt you” he stated, beating himself up for corralling Y/n like that. His voice much less menacing than mere seconds ago. “Who is Clyde Attenborough?”

“I haven’t been honest with you” she finally confessed sniffing. To hell with everything.

At this Tommy turned around to look at her an unpleasant mix of emotions swimming in his eyes.

“Im married” she sobbed “Clyde’s my husband”

For the first time in a long time, Tommy was caught off guard.

“I came to Small Heath because I ran away from him, I figured he’d never find me but..” She said taking the letter in her shaky hands as if the thing were to blow off in any given second “I guess I was wrong. I-I don’t know how he found me”

She shifted her teary gaze from the letter to a shocked Tommy “I swear im not passing information” she chuckled sadly, the knot in her throat choking her a little.

Tommy stood glued in the same spot, not knowing what to do. His world had come crashing down when he began suspecting of Y/n’s alliances after Polly suggested he look into it. A pretty American girl, moving to a grey English town, taking up a job that was exhausting at best. It reminded him a little too much of Grace.

Now that he knew the truth , he didn’t feel any better.

“Is he dangerous?” He found himself asking after a few seconds of silence.

Y/n sniffed as she walked to her fireplace “I wouldn’t have left if he wasn’t” she said as she threw the letter into the crackling flames.

“Is he in Birmingham?”

“He keeps writing that he’ll come get me if I don’t go back, but im not sure” she answered.

Tommy fought the urge to go up to her and take her in his arms and instead put his peaky cap back on before heading for the door.

“I’m sorry” he whispered before stepping out of her place, The guilt of intimidating her in her own house gnawing at his insides and the newfound anger her husband created present on his drive home.

The next day Y/n noticed as she peeped out the window two men, both in peaky caps standing at the entrance of her apartment complex.

Three more days passed and Y/n was again surprised tby the sound of three knocks on her door as she read one evening.

“Its me, Y/N” Tommy’s voice flowed through the door shortly after the knocks.

Y/n quickly got off her couch and made her way to open the door. Her eyes falling on Tommy’s apologetic features.

“It’s dealt with” he said in all seriousness. The thick accent she loved so much vibrating through her ears.

As soon as she registered what Tommy had just said she let out a strained breath, her lips turned into a tired smile and a lone tear slipped out her misty eyes.

“Wanna come in?” She asked after a few seconds, feeling happier than she had felt for days.

“Is this a formal invitation?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips, relieved that his antics from a few days prior hadn’t maimed Y/n´s trust.

At his question she just smiled, looking at him lovingly before taking hold of his hand and pulling him into her apartment before pressing her lips to his in a soft yer passionate manner. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy then closed the door.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @lilymurphy03 @slytherinicequeen

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Hello 👋 just curious could we get a julieta and augustin smutty where julieta is on her period and augustin read somehwhere sex helps cramps. Where shes reluctant but her cramps are so painful she accepts his offer

Listen. Lowkey I love period fucking to DEATH (seriously in 'the north water' tag, I wrote some NASTY shit on it), so when I tell you I hopped on this like the fattest dick-

Augustín hated not having his own gift. Aside from the obvious reasons, he hated that he couldn't be more helpful for his family, ESPECIALLY his wife. You've never seen a woman work harder than her. Cooking, loving, cleaning, healing, she did everything a mother and a wife should, and then some. And here HE was, constantly getting stung or falling over on himself. He wanted to do more for his wife, especially now. She was usually a resilient woman, but her period was absolutely KILLING her. She couldn't even get out of bed. Thankfully, Félix volunteered to handle the cooking for the most part.

"Bro? Bro, focus."

He snapped out of his thoughts as soon as Félix waved a hand over his face. He was busy with Mirabel, who agreed to wash as he cooked, sweet girl she was.

"Sorry I was just. Thinking."

"Well thinking, more plating. The one thing you wanna do when a woman's on her period- feed her. Unless she's nauseous, then don't even let her smell that shit."

"Here, Pa."

Mirabel helped him get a tray ready. Full of chicken soup, a cup of fruit absolutely doused in sweet cream, and of course, tea. Mirabel knew exactly which kind she needed, and even made her a whole pot. Augustín couldn't help but smile at her, just so full of pride.

"You know, despite not technically having a gift, you heal and love JUST like your mother. You know we're both proud of you, right?"

She tried to roll her eyes, pretending to be too cool for it, but that smile betrayed her.

"I know, Pa. You tell me everyday."

"What if you forget? I'd never forgive myself."

Félix snickered, squishing her cheeks in his big hand. Even though she wasn't his daughter, he loved all of his nieces as if they were.

"She'd make for a LOVELY wife- I'm telling you mija, you say the word, I'll find you a nice boy!"

"Tío I'm not-"

"I could find you a nice girl, maybe?"

"I mean both are solid but-"

"I'll keep an eye out, got it."

He stepped back upon Augustín's mild 'watch it' look, though his grin showed no regrets. Augustín leaned in to kiss her forehead, hoping that was enough to show his love for his angel.

"You date who you want when you want. Don't let Félix set you up, he won't stop."

Félix tried not to snort. He liked playing match maker, just like Pepa. He covered Mirabel's ears for a moment, actually showing a moment of privacy for once.

"You're just mad because Jules on her period is scary. You know you could like, fix those with orgasms, right?"

Augustín scoffed, taking what Félix was saying with a grain of salt. He loved Félix like a brother, and he'd never intentionally lead him astray, but he'd say some wild things to get him laid.

"Félix."

"No no, I'm serious! Why do you think Pepa hasn't killed us all by now? Orgasms like. Make shit relax. And Pepa is like, WAY more horny than usual on her period. Plus you know, free lube-"

"I'm going to go feed my wife."

"I'm just saying! Give it a shot!"

Augustín left, thinking about what he said. Having sex with her on her period? He never thought about that. It just seemed so messy and it sounded like something she'd bite his head off for even offering. But that wasn't important. He pushed his way through her door, and was V E R Y careful about traversing the dimly lit room. Too much light was giving her headaches. He somehow made it up her stairs without falling, and he sighed in relief as he sat the tray on the nightstand. He lit the candle by her bedside, and used it to illuminate her face. She looked up at him in her little nightgown, frowning.

"Is everything okay out there? Is anyone hurt?"

"No one is hurt. And if they are, we still have your leftovers. Come here, eat mi vida."

"Ow ow ow..."

She muttered as she sat up, and even in the darkness, he could see her face. That action definitely came with a waterfall of blood. He set the tray in front of her, and she immediately helped herself to the creamy fruit. He helped pour her a cup of tea, and held her hand when she winced In pain.

"The medicine I gave you didn't help?"

"No. And I haven't been able to sleep. Augustín, I don't mean to complain, but esto es horrible. I'm leaking everywhere too, I feel gross."

He hated seeing his wife like this. The healer, unable to be healed, even by her own food. He thought about it for a moment, before bringing her hand to his lips.

"I think I can help. The cramps, at least."

"Consider me interested."

He hesitated, waiting till she had her sip of the tea, before just coming out with it. It's his wife, worst she could say was no.

"Well Félix told me orgasms help. We could just. Have sex."

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, as if in frustration.

"It'd make such a MESS!"

"I can do the laundry!"

"Augustín, you're the reason why Camilo has FIVE pink undershirts."

"He looks good in pink, to be fair."

She contemplated it, before quickly sipping her tea.

"I can have Pepa-er. Maybe not Pepa. Hijole no one does laundry right in this family. Just get me a towel please, I'll take a distraction over this, even if it's about getting the mess out of everything."

He did as she said, despite how rudly she said it. He got the tray out the way, let her finish her tea, and let her get comfortable by laying down on her side. He took off all of his clothes (less he look like a murder scene), before carefully taking off her underwear, and throwing it in the bin, alongside her rag. After laying down a towel, he wrapped one arm around her, and kissed her cheek. She didn't look like she wanted to put in the effort to arouse him, but that was okay, he could rile himself up just fine. He kept his body pressed against her, using his free hand to feel the curve of her frame.

"I know you don't feel sexy. But you are. You're incredible, and I thank God I have you as a wife."

For once today, a smiled appeared on her lips. She reached up to dig her hands through his hair, which was helping more than you thought it would.

"And I'm lucky to have you as a husband. You're good to me, Augustín, for better or for worse."

He kissed her cheek, the nape of her neck, her soft shoulders. All while his other hand caressed her inner thighs, and slowly felt at the hairy mound he was looking for. He swore under his breath at the wetness that clung to his fingers. He didn't know why but, it made him TERRIBLY excited. He gently nibbled at her chin, not stopping himself from groaning into it.

"You're SO wet. FUCK you're so wet."

"It's blood, Augustín."

"I don't care. Just, listen to that. It's so beautiful,"

Just a little slow, small rubbing of her pussy elected such a loud, lewd sound. Augustín was a sweet, romantic man. But what man didn't like the sound of fingers against his wife's soaking wet pussy?

"I could just slide inside of you so easy. It's like you're begging for me."

He slid two fingers of her, and they sank into her hot, thick wetness. She tensed up, gripping onto his arm in surprise, and Augustín had to keep his hold on her to keep her from squirming too far away from him.

"Fuck Augustín, you can't just...finger that spot like that."

"I can. And I will. And it's going to help Mami feel so good."

He let her moan. Let her cry out and writhe as he fingered her. It wasn't gently or slowly. It was lustfully, blood seeping down his arm with not a care in the world. He didn't care. This pussy gave him his beautiful daughters, and belonged to the woman he loved. Nothing from it was gross or impure to him. Especially not the face his love was wearing; flushed cheeks, open and moaning mouth. It was no wonder his cock, pressed up against her peach shaped ass, was hard as a rock.

"Augustín!! You're g-going fast!"

"That isn't fast. This is."

He pulled his hand away, choosing to wrap it around her pretty throat, and shove his cock inside of her. He started to buck into her, feeling the hot, thick blood cascade from his cock and onto the poor blanket below. He felt so improper, fucking his wife when she was bleeding all over herself. She was close. He could tell, given how she played with her huge, perfect breasts.

"Augustín!! Que te pasa?!"

"You. You're so wet. You're so hot and eager and I'm going to put a baby in you. You want that? Another baby given to you by Papi?"

She couldn't even talk now. She just whimpered, and nodded. He had no idea just how badly his wife needed this, and he felt so stupid, not knowing this before. But that didn't matter. What mattered, was him rubbing her clit furiously, and forcing her to cum. She had no time to recover, not as his cum poured into her, forcing more hot fluid to seep from between her legs. He only stopped when he felt himself empty, and even then, he wouldn't leave her alone, nipping her little ear and making his poor love shake under his hold.

"Ay...ay Augustín."

"You feel better, I take it?"

"So much. Oh...are we going to have to do that EVERYTIME my period is being difficult?"

"Hopefully. It's definitely a...bloody, good time."

"I'm going to leave you."

She snorted into her palm. She hated his jokes, even if she laughed at them. He turned on the lights, and assessed the damage. It was...well. A blood bath. A bloody, sweaty, cum covered mess. And he loved her for it. His fingers were a mess, pulling out and seeing his dick almost terrified him, and he just looked a mess. Not that he minded. He motioned for her to get up with him. She obeyed, and after wrapping her up in their already messy towel, he hurriedly got her to the bathroom. After making sure it was locked, she took off the towel, looking down on herself.

"I'm a MESS, Augustín!"

"I know. It's why we're here. Después de ti, bella dama."

She rolled her eyes at him, before hopping into the shower. He stepped in with her, and got the water just right for her. He then pressed her against the glass, and forced her legs apart.

"Augustín! What-"

She didn't have time to talk. Not when he had the shower head in his hand, with the stream aimed right for her little clit. Augustín put his lips right to her ear, holding her cheeks with his free hand.

"Shhh mami, shhh. I'm going to make you feel so much better. Let's try for three, si? You already had one. Let's make two one to remember ~"

[finelinevogue]

Just wanted to say 2 things:

1)Love the fic where he proposed over a cup of tea…so sweet💗

2) we all know how H has asthma sometimes so…could u write something w/the reader helping him with an attack idk or during an interview/concert/family gathering do as u pls

A nice day

XOXO

firstly, thank you so much that’s so sweet of you <33 and secondly, um yes i would love to give this a go at writing for you! hope you enjoy;

Harry couldn’t breathe.

He was in a panic, completely terrified of the uncontrollable situation. He was having an asthma attack concocted with a panic attack and it was brutal.

“Shit,” Jeff whispered as he watched Harry breathe heavily and loudly on the floor. His friend was currently on his hands and knees trying to gasp for air, whilst dressed in his notorious Fine Line outfit.

It was the big night. The one night only at The Forum for the release of his new album Fine Line, hence the costume. He had been nervous all day, with shaking hands and a tendency to forget simple things. You had been with him all day; having a slow brunch together out in the Hollywood Hills and then just chilling around for the afternoon. You didn’t want to anything to strain his voice, so talking hadn’t been an option. That left you either to sleeping and cuddling, whilst watching a movie, or sex. Now you were all for sex, but Harry complained that he liked talking to you during it and so that got shut down pretty quickly. You didn’t forget what he whispered to your ear though just before you cuddled into watching Bambi;

“Keep your moans for later, you’ll be fucking needing them for what I have planned.”

But that was over two hours ago now. Harry had been whisked away to start getting ready, what with hair and makeup first. You’d left him to it, telling him you would just lounge around and wait for him. It was when he was getting into costume had you announced you were just going to go down the street to get some coffee from Dunkin’ - seeing as there were few of them back in England, where you most commonly lived with Harry. The problem was you hadn’t come back yet, and it was an hour later.

“Harry mate, you need to calm down.” Kid Harpoon told him carefully, kneeling down next to his good friend. Nothing was working though and Harry was too breathless to ask anyone for his inhaler.

It had started by thinking about how nervous he actually was for tonight. It was such a huge show and one of a kind too. He was playing his new album and it wasn’t even 24 hours old yet. There was so much pressure weighing him down that he couldn’t breathe - he was suffocating in the anxiety of his own mind and he couldn’t escape at all. Then because he was in so much of a panic his asthma hit him and added another reason to his breathlessness. It was finally made worst when he realised you weren’t by his side to help him. You weren’t there to quickly eliminate the asthma and focus on helping him overcome the panic attack, instead he had his mates surrounding him - crowding him - and they didn’t know the first thing to do.

“Sarah, where’s Y/N?” Mitch shouted, making Harry squint the thought away. He didn’t want to think about how something back might’ve happened or might be happening to you. Where were you? Sarah’s response did no better to help him.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry bud. Talk to us.” Jeff spoke, crouched down in front of him. Harry shook his head, tears running from his eyes as he began crying. The sobs were really harsh and embarrassing. The tears were heavy and mixed with snot running from his nose to pool on the floor below him. He was not doing well at all, coughing when the asthma choked him up. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he was in a small box and it was only getting smaller. He felt as if he were going to die. Genuinely.

“Does he look like he can talk, dickward.” Adam’s voice came from the other side of Harry, messing his head up even more. There was so many voices and he couldn’t focus on just one, but he didn’t want to. He wanted yours. He needed yours. You.

Whenever this has happened before he was always luckily in the comfort of his home, or the tour bus and always with you. So this was unfamiliar and terrifying. He was beginning to think you’d left him or you’d gotten seriously hurt, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was stuck - paralysed to this position as his lungs collapsed in on themselves and his brain sped the same speed as a train. You were his comfort person and it was only ever you that he wanted in situations like these. Just you.

“Move out of my way. Move!” Harry thought he heard you and your voice, but he hated that his mind could be playing tricks on him in desperation for what, or whom, he truly wanted.

He felt someone crash on the floor in front of him and the almighty smell of lavender and soap hit him all at once. This time, he was glad to have someone sit so close to him, because it was you.

“Harry look at me, hey, hey. You’re okay. Look at me bubs.” You spoke calmly, trying not to sound panicked yourself, even if you were heavily worried. You watched as he looked up at you, eyes ridiculously red and puffy whilst his nose was dripping like a leaking tap. You wanted to rub his tears away and dab away the snot, but your main priority was on his breathing first. “Okay good, okay.”

Your hand went into your bag and picked out his inhaler. You shook it a few times, before putting it into Harry’s mouth. “On three, one, two, three…” Harry tried is best to breathe in and you pushed down on the canister. “Good, bubs, really good. Okay again, one, two, three…” You repeated and then a third time until you could tell that the wheezing of his asthma attack had disappeared.

“T-than…” Harry tried to mumble out, but couldnt because he was still in panic and his throat was so dry.

“Sshh you’re okay.” You turned to one of the crew members and asked for them to fetch you a bottle of water. You asked people to clear out of the room and leave you with Harry for a bit, knowing he wouldn’t settle in front of all these people. You sat on the floor, crossed legged, and brought Harry to lay his head in your lap with his body trailing behind. You offered him one of your hands to squeeze if he wanted to, which he appreciated, cupping both of his around yours. Your other hand laid to stroke through his gelled hair - that would no doubt have to be redone now.

Instead of going straight into talking to him, you sang his favourite lullaby to him in aid of calming him down. It always worked, or at least helped a little. You sang quietly, noticing the beat of his heart soften with every line you sung. You were by no means a professional singer like him, but he liked the way it was so imperfect and mellow. It calmed him to hear something so simple and so you. Whilst you sang the crew never came back with your requested water and you thanked them, before you were the only ones left in the room.

After you finished singing you noticed how calm Harry was, almost still - the complete opposite to how he’d been all of 10 minutes ago. It was amazing what the power of you could do to him.

“What colour are we feeling?” You and Harry had created your own little system by which you would let each other know how you’re feeling by a colour of the rainbow. You’d designated a meaning to all of them that only you two could understand and used them on the days when you weren’t feeling great, to help understand each other’s feelings better.

“The whole bloody rainbow.” Harry mumbled out and you passed the water around so he could take a few sips, to which he thanked you graciously for.

“Oi, you can’t have that as your answer.” It was a rule that you could only use one colour to some your most intense emotion in that moment, otherwise there was kind of no point to the system.

“But it’s true. I feel grey with confusion, blue with sadness, purple with frustration, yellow with fear and even light yellow with cowardice. Yet I feel pink with happiness and light red with love.”

“What about red red?” You teased, not being able to help yourself.

“What? Lust? Always, for you that is.” You leant down to kiss his head as he cracked a joke, showing you that your Harry was still there beneath all this worry.

“Tell me what the colours represent in real life.”

“Purple because I am frustrated that I had to have a panic attack right before the biggest show of my career. Yellow because I am frightened that nobody will like the album and it will be a complete fail of a night. Grey because I can’t choose one colour and focus on it. I.. I—”

You could tell he getting himself worked up again, so cut him short. “Bubs stop, you’re okay. Listen to me.” You tucked his hair behind his ear as if to open it up for him to hear better. “Don’t ever be frustrated with yourself for something like this. You are allowed to have moments of weakness; you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. Did this compromise your show? No. Did this show off how strong and brave you are? Yes. That’s what is important, therefore we can swap purple for dark yellow because you were brave. Which means yellow can also turn to dark yellow because you are so brave for doing something so huge and so wonderful. People already love the album H. Can’t get enough of it. Everyone will sing along to every word, I can promise you that. Or at least I will. You are amazing, so never undersell yourself. That’s important to me and for you. Bubs, you are so amazing for what you’re doing here tonight and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Yes, a panic attack isn’t nice and it isn’t convenient, but it just helps show how much you care about tonight and it going a success. That must count for something.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and that was okay. He was most likely getting his thoughts together and mentally preparing himself for the greatest night of his life. You bent your body over so you could hug him, since his back was to your front, and just give him a squeeze to reiterate how proud you are of him.

“Y/N.” Harry spoke quietly, as your body encased his. You embraced his warmth and inhaled the beautiful scent that he was wearing. He both smelt and looked phenomenal.

“Yes bubs.”

“You know I love you right?” Of course you did, but it still made your heart flutter as crazy as the first time he said it to when he tells you now.

“I do.”

“And you know you’re it for me right?”

“Well.. I—” You didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself.

“Because you are.” Harry turned himself around, making you sit up so he could move. He was lying with his head facing upwards now, face looking less red and puffy, and staring right into the souls of your eyes. He looked magical. Beautiful. He thought the same of you. “And,” he moved his fingers to take off his S ring from Gucci, that probably cost more than your annual salary, and place it onto your ring finger of your right hand, “I give you this as a promise to share my last name with you someday.”

Seeing the initial of his last name sat on the finger opposite to the one he claimed he would one day put two more rings on, brought you to tears. “Harry…” You didn’t know what to say, you were speechless. You had never expected for him to do something as monumental as this and had never experienced it before to know how to react.

Of course you’d always dreamt of marrying him and being his for eternity, but never thought of it possibly becoming your reality. Now, Harry was completely devoting himself to you and only you and it suddenly all felt like the dream was settling in place.

“I swear to you Y/N, i’ll love you until the next lifetime and i’ll find you again. I love you so much, I can’t even tell you how much because it is so infinite. You’re so kind and patient with me and you see me for me, not for the Harry Styles, just Harry. I’ll never let a day pass without you on my mind and I think it’s because you were always meant to be mine. My heart is yours.” He smiled once he noticed you were crying, moving one of his hands up to wipe the tears away.

“How do I top that?” You whispered to him, but mostly to yourself. Both of you laughed.

“Just tell me you love me.”

“I do. I do love you Harry.” You nodded and then he sealed your confirmation with a kiss to his lips. You rested your hand upon his cheek, placing the coolness of the S ring upon his cheekbone, as he placed his hand under your chin to guide you into the kiss. He tasted divine and you smiled knowing that you got to have him like this, taste him like this, for the rest of your beating hearts’ days.

[balkanbitch]

Second chapter of this fic!

You can also find this fic on ao3 under balkanbitch!

Trigger Warnings

Descriptions of head wound treatments (nothing graphic just the process), descriptions of scars

Nothing else comes to mind!

Enjoy :)

Leo

When Leo became leader there were many things he didn't know he would have to face.

Fighting aliens, taking down the Shredder, sacrificing himself for humanity, making possibly death causing choices for his family.

Drugging your own little brother as he screamed and cried.

Somehow that was one of the wrost.

Leo sat on the ground of the alleyway trying to catch his breath as he stared at his youngest brother limp body.

His brothers did the same. No one spoke they just all sat there staring in disbelief at the struggle that took place.

Mikey had attacked them. Blindly. Hell he almost scratched out Leo eye in the fit. Screaming about he wants his real brothers.

Not them.

Raph ended being the first to move he picked up Mikey, cradling him. No one spoke. The whole thing kinda reminded Leo when they were kids, when one would fall asleep and the rest of them would try to lug them back to there room.

This was a lot different.

Donnie was the next to move standing near Raph to look at Mikey head wound from earlier.

Leo watched them trying to wrap his head around the situation. His brother had not remembered who they were, or at the very least not recognized them. Since he seemed to still know that he had brothers just not them. Attacking them when they had tried to take him back home.

Slowly Leo was able to will himself to stand and join his brothers.

"Hows he look Donnie?" Leo asked. Donnie turned to him and grimaced.

"Not good. The injury is pretty bad. Definitely a concussion, maybe some permanent damage." Donnie said.

"Oh so well barely be able to tell the difference." Raph joked. Leo rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Raph this is seriously not the time." Leo scolded.

"Theres a bit more." Donnie continued. "Some minor bruising, sprained ankle, broken wrist, dislocated shoulder. But that's all minor compare to his head. If I had to guess he mostly likey fell a few stories." Donnie finished.

None them had any comment, after that. Nothing else could be done in the alleyway so the only option is to head home.

When they finally got to the liar Leo was ready to lay down and never get up. Today had drained him emotionally and physically but mostly emotionally.

The turtles stumbled in to the liar where there seemed to be no one in the main area. Until Splinter entered from the dojo.

"My sons what took so long?" The rat asked before noticing Mikey in Raph arms.

"Is Michaelangelo okay?." Splinter asked moving closer to where they stood.

"Hard to say." Donnie interjected. "He seems to be suffering from some form of amnesia and tried to attack us earlier."

Splinter hummed at the responses.

"I see Raphael take your brother to Donatello lab. Donatello look over your brothers injuries again. Leonardo come with me and tell me extacly what happened." Splinter finished.

"Yes sensei." All the turtles replied before doing their assigned tasks.

Leo followed Splinter in to the dojo where they both sat cross legged and parrel from one another. Splinter sipped at a cup of tea he had left when he rushed out to greet his sons.

"So." Splinter started. "What happened."

Leo began to explain the events of the night. From where when they had gotten weird electric readings from a warehouse and told Mikey to stand watch. The warehouse ended up being a total bust so they decided to sweep the area for any more activity. They had eventually tracked another electrical signal to the spot they left Mikey where they found him disoriented and bleeding from his head. He went in to detail all the things Mikey had screamed and his escape attempt. Along with having to drug him just to get him home.

Splinter listened closely not inrupting his son and slowly sipping his tea. When Leo had finished Splinter placed his tea down.

"It seems that you have all had a rough night. You should get some rest." Splinter urged.

"But sensei what if-" Leo started but soon was interrupted by Splinter.

"You and your brothers have had a long night. I will be telling Raphael and Donatello to do the same once they are finished helping Michelangelo." Splinter concluded, standing up and exiting the dojo.

Leaving Leo only one option to go to his room and rest.

Donnie

Donnie was not having a good night.

Which was kinda a given after having there mission be a bust and than coming back to find his brother hysterical to the point of needing to drug him.

Not one of his better days.

Raph carefully put Mikey on an examination table as Donnie started to gather necessary items. Donnie biggest concern was the head injury. Everything else could be fixed later but this wound seemed bad. There definitely had to be some sort of deep damage if he didn't know who his own brothers where.

Once Donnie had finished getting everything he needed he returned to the examination table. Raph sat near by trying seem disinterested when reality he was most likey panicking as much as Donnie and Leo.

Donnie got to work slowly moving head up to see the wound. The bleeding mostly slowed by now but that didn't really mean much when it came to head wounds. Donnie inhaled sharply when he saw the extent of the damage. Carefully he moved Mikey in to a position where it would be easier to work on his head.

First he started with an x-ray. Donnie x- ray machine was old and a bit rickety but it did its job. Thankfully there was no skull fracture. Which was a great for Donnie. He than started to gently clean the wound. He didn't want to agitate more than it already had been from the drugging incident. Than he made sure to wrap bandages around his whole head just tight know to stay but not constrict.

Raph stayed near one of the walls watching Donnie work. He didn't say anything during the whole process. Only sat and watch. Donnie would not be lying if it stressed him out just a bit.

When Donnie had finished work on his head. He moved to Mikeys wrist to fix the break. He started by unwrapping the wraps all of them wore around his wrist that's when he saw something that made his stomach sink.

"Raph?" He called out feeling the concern leak in to his voice.

Raph came over before Donnie knew it. His eyes landing on Mikey now exposed arms. Raph breath hitched for just a second.

"Did you have any idea about these" Donnie asked.

"Hell no. What the fuck." Raph responded, newfound anger and panic seeping in to his voice.

On Mikey arms where long jagged scars. They ran all the way from his elbow to the end of his fingers. The scars looked similar to electrical burn scars. They where ugly and look like they where deep. Some parts it seemed as if he lost chunks of skin.

Donnie had no idea how long he was in shock until Raph spoke up.

"What do you think happened?" Raph asked uncharacteristically calm.

"Hard to say theres a good chance there some kind of burns most likey electrical. There also have to be at least a month old." Donnie analyzed as he was snapped out of his trance and started to work on Mikey wrist. Rewrapping so the wrist was properly set.

Raph hummed in acknowledgement.

"So should we tell Master Splinter and good old fearless or is this going to be a secret until we can get the full story?" Raph questioned.

"What will be kept a secret?" Spilnter said appearing out of nowhere near Raph.

"Sensei!" Donnie screeched as he had finished wrapping Mikey hand. "Nothing absolutely nothing is a secret!" Donnie quickly defended.

Splinter raised an eyebrow at his tallest son strange behavior but quickly let it go.

"Very well. I have just come to see if Michaelangelo is okay." Splinter said.

Donnie breathed a sigh of relief. While he had no problem telling Splinter about the scar it may not be the smartest decision. Mostly for the fact that there was a good chance Mikey had no idea where the scars came from, courtesy of his amnesia. And trying to get the truth may cause more stress to his healing head.

"Mikey doing better just some minor injuries!!"

For now this was the best option.

Even if Raph was glaring at him from behind Splinter.

Everything in the room was tense. Splinter probably knew he was lying and Raph definitely knew he was lying. Donnie could feel both of there eyes on him. Boring in to him. They both knew he was lying straight through his gaped tooth.

Mikey groaned which, thankfully, took all the attention away from Donnie. Splinter and Raph gathered around the table as Mikey slowly opened his eyes.

"What-" Mikey started before getting a good look at everyone and jolting up.

"Who are you." He screamed. He looked absolutely terrified as his gaze travel around the table.

"My son please calm yourself." Splinter stated resting a hand on Mikey shoulder. Unfortunately that was the dislocated one which caused Mikey to hiss in pain.

"Don't touch me!" He shrieked as he slapped away Splinter hand away. The movement seemed to shock the old rat who quickly gained his composure.

"Michaelangelo, I know this all must be very confusing to you but we are here for you." Splinter stated once again moving closer to Mikey. It was at that moment that Donnie realized something.

Mikey was hiding something behind his back.

"But we are here for you. We are your family." Splinter continued. On closer inspection on Donnie part he realized that one of the scalpels he had near Mikey bed was missing. The whole thing clicked all at once in Donnie head.

"You are not my family." Mikey screeched before raising up the scalpel lunging for Splinter.