#and he's almost impossible to get more than 3 words out of so like phew

[be-a-cute-scientist]

.

#discovered that I do in fact have a family history of bipolar after all #was talking to my aunt about everything going on with my mom #and it turned to the topic of mental health #turns out my family is a doozy for mental health problems but like we knew that #just look at us #but anyways was talking to my aunt about my mom's panic attacks #bc my mom's mental health problems are finally hitting the rest of the family and not just me and my dad #and my aunt mentioned in passing that my great uncle also had bipolar and that was this massive family secret #so i finally got brave and told her that I was diagnosed #(this is the aunt that my mom SPECIFICALLY told me not to tell bc she would spread it everywhere) #(but my aunt ended the convo with - I won't discuss this with anyone except my husband) #and he's almost impossible to get more than 3 words out of so like phew #but like godDAMN #would have been nice to know the family history #also that like every second person has anxiety #which like #yeah #obvious #but it was a good discussion of what's going on with my mom #and I think I'm right in that she's been so chronically clinically anxious for the past few years of retirement that it's starting to mimic #demenia #and it was good to talk to my aunt #who learned a lot about this when my granddad was having memory issues #bc she told me the warning signs for alzheimers #and that's definitely NOT what my mom has #anyways it was a good chat #and i feel much closer to my aunt now #she had just the right reaction #of total acceptance and no shock or astonishment or like poor old you

[parkers-gal]

Tom x reader where reader wants to move out & live with Tom only (not with boys). Tom doesn’t want to move out, maybe Nikki has a talk with him

the one T.H.

➢ a / n | went a lil overboard, heh, but enjoy this ! sorry it took a lil while :,(

➢ wc | 2.5k <3

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

There’s too many dishes in the sink, you note. There’s so many, that they won’t all fit for one load in the dishwasher. It’s a pain, and you know nobody in this house has the patience to wait for two full loads to carry through, so you have to hand wash half of them and allow the whirring machine to do the other half.

If this were a romantic comedy, you’d have Tom standing next to you and you’d hold hands under the suds while you wash the dishes together and chat about your future. This isn’t a rom-com, though. In fact, you don’t even know where the boys are right now. You were certain they went into the den to play Call Of Duty — or whatever it is that they play — but then you thought they went into the backyard with Tessa, but now you’ve just given up on figuring their whereabouts.

Not that you’re angry at Tom for not helping, though. He did the laundry with you earlier, so you’re content with his keeping end of the deal. It’s the other four that you’re a bit fed up with. Sam had just recently joined the Holland-Osterfield-Barrett household of mates, and while you’re all the more happy to welcome him in, it also means more work. There’s a chore schedule, but sometimes someone has work in a town or a country away, and the gaps in the schedule are only ever left for you to fill.

It’s tough, considering you have your own job, but you’re content with the situation — for now. You have Tom, the love of your life, and you have the best people of your life - Harry, one of your closest confidants, and Harrison, one of your partners in crime.

There’s a lot of baggage that comes with being the only woman in a household of boys that practically grew up with each other. You love Tessa with all your heart, but it’s not like you can really gossip to her about your day.

You’re not too worried about everything, anyway. The second anniversary of your relationship with Tom is coming up; it’s only a few months away, and though you’ve been pondering the idea for awhile, you’re thinking of getting a place with Tom, on your own, without the nagging and intruding fellow in-laws (to-be, hopefully).

Six weeks, today marks, for how long you’ve been thinking about the idea, debating whether it’s valid enough to bring up to Tom, deciding when the best time to talk to him would be. He’s a hard man to navigate — getting a spot in his busy schedule is like fighting to the front of a One Direction mosh-pit. That makes it practically impossible.

But, you’re Y/N. You’re his sweetheart, his darling, his weakness. You’re the most important person in his life, and when you want to have a serious conversation with him, Tom’s all ears and eyes, attentive and caring, understanding and, hopefully, supportive.

You’re hoping it won’t take much convincing — he’s lived with these people all his life, and if it’s truly hard for him to decide, you’ll know what he really wants then.

Ringing out a few glass cups, you let them dry on a dish rack that sits on the countertop. The buzzing and whirring of the dishwasher alerts you that it’s still happily running, and you walk towards the glass sliding doors that lead to the patio and backyard. Peering out, you see all four housemates and Paddy, playing with a frisbee and wrestling with Tessa and messing around with a rugby ball on the trampoline. They look like kindergarteners on the playground, and you decide then to bring them some lemonade like a mother in summertime.

“Hope you’re all a bit thirsty,” you set the tray down with a warm smile. Sam shuts his book of poetry to smile up at you from his seat. He’s been reading for a good fifteen minutes, but you reckon he’ll hop on the trampoline when Harrison gets off. For now, he watches as the Irregulars star jumps happily with Tuwaine.

“Oh, sick,” Harry runs over with the frisbee still in his hands, reaching for a glass and taking a big gulp. Tessa’s at his feet, awaiting for the frisbee game to resume, and you pet her head for a moment before Tom runs over to you, hair matted to his forehead in sweat.

“You’re the best, love,” his hand finds the small of your back as he kisses your temple. You smile again, eyes shutting in bliss at the feeling of his lips, but his hand maneuvers you so he can reach for a glass without bumping into you.

One by one, they come over for refreshments, before picking up where they left off beforehand. Tom’s last to leave, wanting to talk to you before playing with his brothers again.

“Oh, I have to talk to you later,” you whisper, fingers tracing down his damp (sweaty) shirt with a giggle. Tom raises a brow, and you nod softly, “Just, when you have time. Now have fun,” you push him off, and though he’s still just as curious, he leaves you alone on the patio. Taking one last glance at the rowdy group of boys, you bring the tray of empty cups inside, sliding the door shut and sighing to yourself. More dishes to do.

——

Tom’s drying his hair with a purple bath towel when he comes out of the steamy bathroom. He sighs contentedly, before remembering your words from earlier. He brings it up, “What was it that you needed to talk to me about?”

He walks over to the dresser while you look up from your phone. You hum as Tom puts something away, and you shut the electronic device off, setting it on your nightstand and twisting to face his direction.

“I wanted to talk to you about… us, I guess.”

You see Tom’s movement slow, and he removes the towel from his damp curls, turning around hesitantly. You smile, waving him off, “Nothing bad, I promise.”

He lets out an inaudible “phew,” and nods. “Good.” You agree with a nod of your head, and he furthers on with the questions. “What is it, though? Is it something important?”

“I mean…” Tom places his towel on the rack before walking to the opposite side of the mattress “Sorta?” You offer, and you see the gears turn in his head. He sits down across from you, on the bed, and he smiles encouragingly, still a bit suspicious.

“Well, I’m all ears, darling.”

You smile at the familiar pet name, and with a final breath in, you admit what’s been in your head for the past few months. “I was thinking maybe we could… move out… without the boys.”

It’s dead quiet for a few beats while the words sink into his mind. You’re not sure how he’s going to react, but you watch to gauge his reaction.

His mouth opens, almost as if he’s about to say something, but then he closes it, as if he’d suddenly second guessed himself. For once, you truly can’t read him.

“I thought… I thought you liked living here?” he says softly, almost a bit saddened.

You sigh with your words, “I do! Really, I do, but…”

“But…?” He bites his lip.

“Well, I mean…” you exhale again, “We’ve been together for almost two years,” he’s still listening, “Don’t you think we should be a little more independent?”

“I mean, sure, if we were a normal couple.” He laughs at the joke, and while you do too, it’s not really genuine, but more forced for the awkward tension in the air. “I just thought you… y’know, enjoyed spending time with everyone.”

You nod understandingly. “I do, Tom. Really, I do. But… y’know, we’re not getting any younger. I just thought maybe it was time for us to get a place of our own.” It comes out as more of a suggestion, a question for him to respond to. You quietly bite your lip while Tom nods at the information he’s taking in.

He looks down at his fingers, before locking eyes with you. “Can I think about it?”

You shut your eyes softly while nodding. Tom blinks, before standing from the bed, giving you a kiss on the forehead and bidding farewell, heading downstairs for more quality time with his brothers.

——

It’s been a week since that conversation took place in your room. You didn’t think it’d go so… bad? You’re not sure if you should say that, because he didn’t exactly say “no,” he just didn’t seem enthusiastic about deciding at all.

It’s a quiet Saturday. You’re out bowling with a few of your friends, news of one of them getting engaged spreading like wildfire. She’s having a dinner party later, but for now, you’re keeping the meeting small, inviting your closest circle for the fun day at the bowling lanes.

Tom asked you if you wanted to reschedule the dinner with his family, but you insisted that arriving late would be fine. It’s only four o’clock — the Holland family likes to come for late lunch and spend the night playing games and drinking beer, until the clock strikes midnight and Paddy’s passing out in the backseat on the way back home.

At least now, only one Holland brother stays with the parents.

Somehow, someway, the conversation had shifted to you. Everyone’s gathered in the living room, scattered on sofas, couches, beanbags, armchairs, loveseats. Tom misses you at his side, but the conversation of how your work is going just reminds him of what you’d proposed a few days ago.

“How’re things with her in general, though?” Nikki, Tom’s mom, asks with a smile. The eyes shift towards Tom, and he can feel his face heating up.

“Yeah, how’re things with the lovebirds?” Harry teases.

Tom chuckles, anxiety bubbling in his stomach, twisting his. “Uh- they’re- they’re good, yeah,” he assures them, though shaky.

“You sure, there?” Harrison teases. “Did someone propose or something?”

“No, no,” Tom airily chuckles. “Nothing like that.” “Oh?” His dad picks up, “What, then?”

“She- uh…” he licks his lips out of habit. “She wants to move out. Find a place for us, she said.”

The tone in which Tom tells them lets them know that he’s a little less than enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. It’s something that raises a red flag for Nikki; it’s something that makes her brows furrow in confusion.

“Oh,” Sam breaks the silent. “I’m happy for you, bro,” he pats Tom’s shoulder.

Tom smiles, though it’s forced and a bit spaced out.

“What’re you gonna tell her?” Harry asks. “You want it too, right?”

Tom shrugs weakly. Nobody talks about his responses, his reactions. It’s all a bit unexpected, for Tom to not be on board with the next step of the relationship.

“I mean, I don’t know, really.” He confesses with a nervous laugh, running a hand through his curls. “I’d miss you all so much. I just… I don’t know, I guess I just thought she liked living here too, y’know.”

A collective number of “yeah’s” and “mhm’s” go around the room, and Tom nods nonchalantly before the conversation switches to something more exciting. For now, Nikki lets it go, just until she can get her eldest in a room by himself, and before you get home.

It’s when Tom’s getting snacks for the group that Nikki decides to offer her help in the kitchen. They’re just putting dinner in the oven and preparing appetizers, but still, any opportunity to talk to Tom.

“So,” Nikki smiles, and Tom giggles while she puts another slice of tomato on the dish they’re preparing. “Moving out, huh?”

Though her tone is teasing, Tom can’t help but get shivers. He nods, quieting down a bit. Nikki’s movements remain, but Tom stops working altogether. “I don’t want to move out.”

His mum turns to look at him, and she nods, almost as if anticipating the confession. “Why not?”

Tom clicks his tongue, looking down as if he’s ashamed of feeling this way. “I just like things the way they are right now. I know at some point, someone’s gonna move out and the clan’s gonna go our separate ways, but I don’t want to be the one to go first.”

At this, Nikki fully turns to talk to Tom, no longer making dinner. “Tom…” She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, and Tom does the same. “You were the first to go, you know.”

His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she sighs, “Your career was first to take off. You ran out that door so fast, we couldn’t keep up.” Tom laughs, reminiscing to himself. “You’re going to keep growing,” she says softly. “You can’t stop that. You can’t stop everyone from growing apart. Sure, you might not grow apart, but you won’t always be this cute little boy band from your school days.”

“Not a boy band, mum,” Tom grumbles. The two of them share a knowing smile.

“You can’t blame yourself for growing, darling,” she steps closer, grabbing one of his hands just like he had grabbed hers the day he was first born. “You can’t expect to be the glue that holds this- this temporary situation together forever. You’re not a superhero,” the two of them laugh again, but then Tom nods knowingly, and Nikki can see a faint batch of tears spring in his eye sockets.

“No, I know, mum.” He sniffles. “I guess… I don’t know, i’ve just always been afraid of never being there when everything changes. I always come back and everyone’s a different person, just…” he searches for the words, “with the same faces.”

She nods, turning back to her dinner dish. Tom keeps his eyes trained on his hands, which are planted on the countertop.

“She loves you a lot, you know.” Nikki says after a few beats. “She just wants a bit of privacy, a bit of your relationship without your annoying brothers.”

“Annoying is right,” Tom teases. They laugh again. “Yeah, I guess I just never thought of that.” Nikki hums, and the kitchen grows silent for a few moments. “Thank you, mum.”

“For what?”

“Being there.” Tom replies. “You never gave up on me, and now… I don’t know. It means a lot to me that you’re helping me with something so important to me.”

Nikki’s eyes soften, and both of them tear up. She nods, this time breaking the silence again. “I know how much you love her,” She says quietly. “One day, she’ll be yours for forever. She’s the one — I can see it in both of your eyes.”

Tom sucks in a breath and wipes his eyes. “I know she’s the one, too.” He adds in another tomato to the dish. “She’s always been it for me.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland request #fluffy tom holland #tom holland fluffy #tom holland angsty #boyfriend!tom #tom x reader #tom x you #tom fic #tom fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Ayato Dark [Prologue]

Monologue

ーー Past the underground waterway,

there’s a portal connecting to the Demon World. 

I stood in front of it,

and after taking a deep breath,

gently pressed my hands against the door.

Then pushed.

A heavy sound echoes in response,

as the gates slowly opened.

Seeping through the crack,

was a never-ending darkness.

And thenーー

ー The scene starts in the forest of the Demon World

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun...I wonder if he’s okay after being so badly injured? )

( ...I’m worried... )

( Either way, I should hurry to the castle so I can confirm whether he’s safe or not! )

( It should stand out amongst the other buildings, so I’m sure I’ll be able to find it if I just get a move on... )

( If I don’t, then... )

...

*HOOOOOWL*

Yui: ...!

( T-That was the howling of a wolf just now, right? )

*HOOOOOWL*

Yui: ( Again! )

( I-I should hide somewhere! )

ー The scene shifts to the abandoned building

Yui: Haah, haah...

( I guess I’m fine for now? )

...Phew...

( I just entered the first building in sight but I wonder if it’s safe here...? )

( ...I wonder what the others are up to right now. )

ー A flashback ensues

Ayato: Rest assured…Chichinashi. You belong to me. No way in hell I’m handin’ you over to some darn wolves!

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

( I want to rush to your side...I’m worried... )

( After all, if something were to happen to Ayato-kun... )

...

*HOOOOOWL*

Yui: ...!!

( N-No way! They’ve chased me this far!? )

*HOOOOOWL*

Yui: ( They’re getting closer. )

( W-What should I do? I don’t know where to run. )

???: ーー Oi!

*Rustle*

Yui: ...!!

Ayato: Shh...! Don’t make a sound...!

Yui: ...A...Ayato-kun...? 

Ayato: Yeah, it’s me. So don’t go pissin’ your pants.

Haah...Geez. Why did you come here when you were told to stay behind in the human world...?

You really are an idiot! From today onwards, you’ll be known as ‘Baka Chichinashi’ (1) instead!

Yui: ...S-Sorry...

But...I was worried about you...

Ayato: ...You...

Yui: Say, are your injuries okay now? Did they finish the treatment?

Ayato: Fool. Who do you take me for?

As you can see, I’m in tip-top shaー Ugh...

Yui: A-Are you okay!? Don’t push yourself...

Ayato: Hmph. You should worry ‘bout your own body.

...So, about those wolves...

Yui: I can’t hear them anymore but...

Ayato: ‘Kay, seems like they left. God...

Yui: Y-Yeah...Thank god...

...Ah...But how did you know I was here, Ayato-kun? Is this building close to the castle perhaps?

Ayato: Nah. If anything, the exact opposite.

It’s just...For some reason...I just knew.

As if you were calling for me.

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: So, you didn’t have another one of your clumsy moments and hurt yourself, right?

Yui: Yeah, I’m fine.

Ayato: Hm...Well, that’s good then.

Yui: Um...Thank you for worrying about me when you’re not having an easy time right now either.

Ayato: W-Worry? I’m not concerned or anythin’! Don’t get the wrong idea! Che...!

Anyway! We can’t stay here forever. Let’s get back to the castle already!

Yui: Yeah...

( How strange...When Ayato-kun’s with me, I suddenly feel this safe... )

Ayato: ...Oi, why are you grinnin’ for by yourself?

Yui: Eh? I-I’m not smiling!

Ayato: Nah, you were definitely smiling! From ear to ear! I saw it with my very own eyes!

Haahn...Don’t tell me you were having dirty thoughts at a time like this?

Yui: Eh!? O-Of course not!? Iーー

???: ーー Playtime is over.

Ayato: ...!? And you are...?

Yui: ( W-Why is he here!? )

A-Ayato-kun, this is Shin-kun’s older brother.

Ayato: ...I see. I get it now.

I thought somethin’ was fishy ‘bout those two, but I guess you guys are also...from this world, huh?

Carla: ...

Ayato: ...! Oi, answer me!! You bastards are Vampires as well, aren’t you!?

???: ーー Vampires? Think again.

I’d rather not get grouped together with you guys ー capiche!?

*THUD*

Ayato: ...!?

ー Ayato collapses

*Thud*

Yui: Ayato-kuーー

???: Woah there. You’ll be coming with us too, Komori Yui-san.

*Thud*

Yui: ( Ah...! Uu... )

ー She collapses as well

Shin: Ahー ...Geez. It’s so hard to hold back and not actually kill them...

So, Nii-san? What should we do next? Do we kill the guy?

Carla: ...Shin. Leave him alone. Take both of them to the manor.

Shin: Roger. Haah, that being said, these two sure are a handful...

*TIMESKIP*

???: ...Oi...

Yui: ( Nn...This voice...? )

Ayato: Are you ‘kay, Chichinashi!? Get a grip...!

ー Yui opens her eyes

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: ...

...Geez. Even though you were still breathin’, you didn’t move at all like you were dead or somethin’...You’re not hurt anywhere, right?

Yui: Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you...But...Where are we...?

Ayato: Beats me. However, it seems like we were taken back to the human world.

Those Tsukinami guys, the one with the scarf and  the other with the eyepatch...It’s probably their manor, no?

Yui: ...I guess so...?

Ayato: Haah. Even if I’m not in the best shape right now ‘cause of the Lunar Eclipse, I still messed up big time...Fuck...

Yui: ...I wonder why they brought us here...?

Ayato: Don’t ask me. ...But well, I doubt they’re gonna give us a warm welcome.

Yui: ...R-Right...

...

Ayato: ...Ugh.

...Oi, how to put this...Don’t make that face.

This isn’t a worst-case scenario or anythin’.

After all, I’m still here by your side! So why should you worry?

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Yeah...!

( He’s right. Ayato-kun’s here with me, so it’ll be okay... )

*Knock knock*

ー Shin enters the room

Shin: Ahー Sorry to interrupt, but do you have a minute?

Ayato: You...!

Shin: Stop, stop! No need to bare your fangs at me right away, don’t you think? I did knock for one, didn’t I?

Ayato: Like that matters one bit! You just dragged us over here for god knows why!? 

Now move out of the way. We’re headin’ home.

Shin: I’m afraid you can’t. You two will be heading towards a banquet now after all.

Yui: A-A banquet...?

Shin: Exactly, a party! Sounds lovely, no?

Unlike you crude Vampires, us Founders have class.

Ayato: Founders...!?

Yui: ( Founders...Now that he mentions it... )

ー A flashback ensues

Reiji: In the Demon World, one more species going by the name of the ‘First Bloods’ exists.

They are said to be the ancestors of every species living in the Demon World.

Ayato: The fuck? That’s a first for me. Besides, I’ve never run into one of those over at the Demon World either.

Reiji: Of course not. They suffered defeat in a war against our Father and Demon Lord Burai, before being banished to a castle.

They are forbidden from leaving.

Laito: Then wouldn’t it be impossible for them to show up here in the first place?

Reiji: You are indeed right. But well, they possess the abilities of the wolf, eagle, snake and bat all at once.

Therefore, it would be possible for them to transform into wolves as well. I simply wanted to bring it up as one possible explanation.

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( Could those Wolves have been...? )

Ayato: I’m no expert on Founders, but you guys should be locked up somewhere, no?

Shin: Well, I guess you could say that.

However...Our time of having to endure the suffering has come to an end.

ーー No, we will end it with our own hands.

Yui: ...?

Ayato: Argh! You’re not makin’ any sense!

Anyway! Just get out of the wa...Ugh...

Yui: Ayato-kun!

Shin: Ahーah, are you trying to act tough in front of your girl (2) even though you’re not quite fully recovered yet?

Let me tell you straight-up. You have no chance at getting away from us while severely wounded like that.

If you understand that, you should just listen to us and come to the banquet.

If not...I’m sure even an idiot such as yourself knows what will happen to your little girlfriend over there?

Ayato: ...

Shin: Ah, right. By the way...She’s actually kind of my type, you know?

So you know, I personally wouldn’t be against having some fun with her, if you get what I mean.

You could say I’d love to turn that cute face of hers into a teary mess.

Yui: ...Uu...

Shin: If you don’t mind that, then be my guest and go wild?

Ayato: ...Tsk...

...Fuck...!

Yui: ...

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Shin: ーー Come on in.

Yui: ( It smells good in here... )

( I thought that maybe we’d be moved somewhere else when he brought up the banquet. )

( But are we truly...simply invited? ...But we shouldn’t trust them just yet, right? )

Shin: Take a seat wherever you like.

Ayato: I will do just that! My place isーー

Shin: ーー Wait! That’s where the owner of the manor sits. Good grief. Just how stupid are you?

Ayato: Shut up...!

Yui: A-Ayato-kun. Let’s just sit here together, okay?

Ayato: Che...

Shin: Haha, you really are a disgrace to all Vampires, having a human order you around like that.

Ayato: Aah!? That’s notーー

???: ーー What is this ruckus?

Shin: Hey, Nii-san. Perfect timing. I was having some trouble because our guests tonight don’t seem to have any basic manners.

Carla: ...

Ayato: Che...Starin’ at me like that.

Carla: ...

Ayato: What’s your problem!? Got somethin’ to say to me!? Then speak up!

Shin: Hehe...Too bad. Nii-san would never fall for such an obvious taunt. Anyway, just take a seat for now.

Ayato: ...Che...Fine!

...So? What’s the point behind this farce?

We’re not actually here to enjoy a meal together, right? Get to the point already.

Carla: ...

How pretentious...I truly do pity you for being born a Vampire...

Yui: ( I-I wonder why? I feel as if Carla-san has a perfect grasp on the situation... )

Ayato: Hmph! Don’t talk as if you know me!

Carla: ーー But I do.

You lot are fixated on that woman over here, all because of the heart which has been put inside her body. Am I right?

Yui: Eh...?

( H-How does he know about my heart...? )

Carla: Furthermore...Ayato, you were the first one to attack that heart’s previous owner, were you not? (3)

Ayato: ...

Shin: You guys don’t know anything about us, but we know everything.

That means we’re at an advantage in this situation.

In other words, you guys are on the losing side. I’m sure even an idiot understands that?

Ayato: ...Tsk.

Yui: ( W-What to do? I wonder what they’re after...? )

Shin: Besides...Hehe...

Ayato: ...What?

Shin: Oh noー... I was just thinking you’re quite the pitiful little guy? I almost feel bad for you.

Ayato: What do you mean?

Shin: Oh? I’m sure you know that better than anyone else. If you’ve forgotten, shall I remind you?

Carla: It seems like the lack of love and care you received from your Father Karlheinz...

Combined with Cordelia’s cruel treatment has twisted you quite a bit.

Ayato: Wha...!? Try sayin’ that one more time, you bastard!!

Yui: A-Ayato-kun, calm down...!

Ayato: ...

Carla: Hmph...It appears to me that said woman over there is keeping you in check for now.

However...

People do not change that easily.

Ayato: ...

Shut up...Not another word!!

*SHATTER*

Yui: A-Ayato-kun!

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! I don’t want to stay here one second longer! Let’s go!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah...!

ー Ayato drags Yui along.

Shin: Ahーahー ... We worked so hard to prepare this banquet and he made a complete mess of it...

Well, in the end, Vampires are nothing but lowlives who can’t go one minute without throwing an angry tantrum.

That being said...They were only here for a little while, but this room already stinks of Vampire...

Honestly, it makes me gag...

Carla: ...Exactly...

ーー Get rid of it. Throw out everything they touched.

Shin: Fufu, gotcha, Nii-san.

ー The scene shifts to the bedroom

Ayato: Fuck...Why is this whole place so damn sturdy!?

My punches don’t have any effect.

Yui: ( We started looking around in search of an exit, but the whole manor is highly secure. )

( So in the end, we had no other choice but to return here... )

Ayato: The fuck’s their problem...? How do they know all those things...?

Yui: ( I wonder what the Founders’ goal is...? )

( Besides, why do they know Ayato-kun that well...? )

Ayato: ...Fuck...

Yui: ( I wonder if there’s anything I can do for him right now...? )

...Hey, Ayato-kun...?

ー She embraces him

*Rustle*

Yui: ( I hugged him in the spur of the moment, I wonder if he’ll get upset...? )

Ayato: Yui...

...

Yui: ( Ah...He wrapped his arms around my back... )

Ayato: ...Haah...

Yui: Don’t worry, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: ...What? Are you trying to comfort me? Shouldn’t it be the other way ‘round?

But...Well...Guess it’s fine. Since it’s you...

Hey...Nn...

ー Ayato bites her

Yui: ...Ah...

Ayato: Come on, let me have a little taste.

Yui: ...Go ahead, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: Nn...Hah...Nn...

Yui: ( If I can be somewhat helpful to him by being by his side, or by giving him my blood, then I don’t mind that at all. )

( I want to be there for him. ...I’m sure that feeling will never change, no matter what lies ahead. )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Since he’s talking about changing her nickname and I never translate ‘Chichinashi’ to English either, I decided to keep it consistent and put the idiot (baka) part in Japanese as well.

(2) 彼女 or ‘kanojo’ can mean both ‘girlfriend’ or ‘she/her’ in Japanese. However, I’m pretty sure Shin usually refers to Yui as あの女 or ‘ano onna’ or something else along those lines, instead of ‘kanojo’. Therefore, I decided to translate it as ‘girlfriend’ in this particular sentence. 

(3) I actually had a lot of trouble translating this sentence. The phrase 手をかける or ‘te wo kakeru’ can mean both ‘to lay hands on’ in more of a negative sense, as well as ‘to care for’ or ‘to rear’. However, it doesn’t really make sense for him to say Ayato cared for or looked after Cordelia, so I interpreted it as Carla referring to the fact Ayato was the one who started when the triplets murdered her together. 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Sakamaki Prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

#diabolilk lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfayatodarkprolog

[trashytummiez]

A Stuffed Cinnamon Bun

This was inspired by @yummyinmytwistedtummy after their scenario posts.  Kalim’s too cute for words so I had to write something for the precious angel. <3

Yuu loved watching Kalim eat.  He was always so joyous when it came to food.  The young nobleman was already the most cheerful and friendly student in all of Night Raven but when it came to really good food he was an extra kind of adorable.  While other students just stuffed their faces Kalim was always smiling this bright impossibly cute smile whenever downing good food.  

But just like most of the other students, Kalim had an appetite.  And when he ate he didn’t mess around.  In fact, by the time Kalim was finished with the sizable meal Yuu had ordered for lunch today, Kalim’s usually flat stomach was bulging out to the point that shirt and vest barely concealed his middle.

“Ahhh, that was so yummy!” Kalim sighed merrily while he flopped onto the couch and patted his bulging belly with both hands.  

“You don’t say,” Yuu teased when she sat down next to Kalim.

She lifted Kalim’s shirt up and exposed his tan-skinned bare stomach, round and soft as it pushed the waist of his baggy Scarabia uniform trousers down.  

Yuu very gently rested her palm against Kalim’s exposed tummy and caressed it.  Kalim sighed in such a way where if he had a tail Yuu was convinced it would be wagging like crazy right about now.  She giggled in amusement and began to rub Kalim’s belly in wide circles.  Yuu leaned against Kalim while her right hand rubbed up and down his bulging tummy.

“Haaaaah, that feels soooo nice,” Kalim cooed gently and happily.  “You’re too nice to me.”

“Pot meet Kettle,” Yuu teased while she gingerly stroked Kalim’s glutted stomach.

Kalim tilted his head.  “Who are they?  Are they from Savanaclaw?”

Yuu rolled her eyes.  Kalim was a sweetheart but that didn’t necessarily make him a genius.  Not that it mattered to Yuu.  Even if he was a dope, he was her dope.  

She eventually rested her head against Kalim’s stomach, nuzzling the side of her face to his warm and soft bloated flesh.  With her pressed directly against Kalim’s belly Yuu could hear his stomach working vigorously to digest such a large lunch.  

“Wow.  Your stomach’s noisier than usual today.”

Kalim giggled and shrugged.  “Well you did feed me a way bigger lunch thna usual!  Of course my tummy is gonna be all noisy’n-unf-bubbly...” Kalim’s giggling was interrupted when a low burble made him wince and hold a fist to his mouth for a second.  

Then Kalim expelled a loud burp that could’ve easily been heard from outside of his dorm room.

BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHPP!!!!!

Kalim covered his mouth and giggled anew.  “Whoops!  Haha~ s’cuse me!” Kalim apologized with that giddy smile on his face.

Yuu’s cheeks went red.  Kalim may have been a lot nicer and kindhearted than most students here but that didn’t immediately translate to having better manners than they did.  Not that Yuu was complaining about that.  Far from it.  In fact because her head was still rested against Kalim’s belly she could feel it rattle a little when he burped.

“You’re excused,” Yuu insisted and patted Kalim’s belly a few times which made the Scarabia dorm head hiccup cutely.  “Got anymore you need to get out?”

“Oh I can totally burp again!” Kalim said with a confident grin. “Wanna see?”

He truly made it way too easy for Yuu sometimes.  She legitimately almost felt bad about how little effort she had to put in to get Kalim teasing her kinks.  But that guilt was short lived.

Especially when Kalim put a hand on his chest and released another large burp.  Only he didn’t look satisfied by that one.  “Awww, that was so weak!” Kalim pouted.  

He gulped down even more air to burp up but when it came out, it sounded choppy and ended with a softer tiny after-burp.

Bwaurh-AaOOOOooorp!!!  Urp!

It was still pretty good and made Yuu’s cheeks grow red as a Heartslabyul Rose.  But it didn’t bring Kalim any relief.

Again he pouted and poked his tummy in an annoyed sort of way.

“Sorry, my tummy is being fussy for some stupid reason.”

Yuu shook her head and smiled in amusement.  He truly was too cute for words sometimes.  So she decided to help out.  Yuu held Kalim’s belly in her hands and pressed down into it.  There was a loud gurgling that erupted from his stomach that caused Kalim to lurch for a second until a massive belch exploded out of him like a bomb.

BWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRHHP!!!!!!!!!!

It was such a forceful eruption that Yuu felt Kalim’s belly practically jostle around from its release under her hands.  A little drool trickled down Kalim’s chin with that beastly Savanclaw-esque roar.

He slouched back against the couch which made his tummy stick out more while he caught his breath.  “Wow...haaaaaah...phew...that had to be a record...!” Kalim exclaimed between his labored breaths.  He wiped his mouth and chin clean and gently patted his belly.

Yuu was shaken in more ways than one.  Her face was completely pink.  She felt like there was steam coming out of her ears.

Kalim lazily looked at her and tilted his head in confusion.  “Say, Yuu.  Did’ja ever notice how your face gets all blushy whenever I burp or when my tummy gets all stuffed like this?”

Yuu froze in place when Kalim said that.  She grew nervous but Kalim quickly dispelled her concerns with his next remark.

“Does my face get all red too when I eat too much?  Or is that just you?”

She gave him a look.  But couldn’t suppress a smile at how cute and criminally innocent he was.  So Yuu leaned over and kissed Kalim on the cheek.

The young nobleman made a mousy squeaking noise and suddenly his face was even redder than Yuu’s.

“What am I gonna do with you, Kalim...”

#kink fic #belly kink #kalim #twisted wonderland #yummyinmytwistedtummy #bloating #stuffing #burping #burp kink #belly rub #belly play

[sooobinscalculator]

NCT 127 Confessing to You / You Confessing to Them

Genre: Fluffffff ff f f f

Word count: *beep boop*

NCT 127 X Reader

This has been in my drafts for a while and it actually was a different group at first but I changed it so sorry if it's a little funky or some of the words are weird. Hope you enjoy thooo.

None of these gifs are mine :))

Taeyong ♡

He confesses to you.

You were close friends with him since school.

You guys would always "jokingly" flirt and it was obvious to the other members what was going on.

You both had feelings towards each other but were too paranoid of confessing and ruining the friendship.

You had invited him over to your house one lazy evening and you were sitting on the couch with him watching a movie.

He had his arm draped behind you and he sighed heavily, catching your attention.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Y/N, we really need to talk. I don't want this to ruin our friendship or anything, but I need to get this out."

"Okay..."

"I've fallen so hard for you over these past years and if you don't feel the same as me, just know that I don't want our friendship to change from this."

"Taeyong....... Why haven't you said anything sooner? I've been in love with you since we were in school!"

"Wha- Why didn't you say anything!?"

You both would laugh it off and continue your night with deep conversations and kisses (YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAA coot).

Yuta ♡

You confess to him.

You had been introduced to Yuta by your best friend Johnny.

Johnny found out you were crushing on Yuta and would try everything in his will power to get you and him close together.

Johnny invited you over one night to hang out with the boyzzzzz.

You and Yuta at this point have gotten closer (as friends...... 🙃).

Haechan really didn't want to watch the horror movie that the others picked out.

You and Yuta volunteered to do something else with Haechan so he wouldn't feel left out.

"Let's dye my hair," Yuta suddenly suggested.

"YESSSSS," Haechan glanced at you for approval.

"You both can do it," Yuta smirked at you while handing you several hair dye bottles.

"O-oh okay," you nervously muttered.

While washing Yuta's hair, Haechan left to get some snacks.

Yuta was groaning softly as you massaged his scalp, making you go CrAzY skskaksjdnxnak.

"Yuta, I have something to confess," you said as you bit your lip.

"Yes?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he opened his eyes.

"I-I like you. Really, really like you," you said softly as blush spread to your cheeks like wildfire.

"Really? Me too," he says nonchalantly.

"Oh phew okay. Wait.... You LIKE ME TOO?!"

"Yeah Y/N, I'm gaga for you," he says while bopping your nose with his finger and winking.

You internally scream as Yuta laughs at your blush.

Jaehyun ♡

(Woof okay)

He confesses to you.

But in a DiFfErEnT way than he would've wanted to.

You were invited to a late night club by your friend Jaehyun.

He constantly would try to pull your dress down, saying it was too short.

You'd stare at him with a raised eyebrow and remind him that the two of you were at a club.

The daaannccciiinnnng kekeke.

He's obviously a great dancer, and you were surprised at how well your body responded to his. (I-)

Went into a drinking competition at one point with you (after getting a little tired of dancing).

You won.

Now he's all TiPsY!

Moooore daaannccciiinnnng

His dancing was getting a little more rAuNcHy.

"Jae I think we should get you home," you laughed while facing him.

"Y/N.... You're literally glowing. You're an absolute goddess," his words were all slurred but still made your heart flutter.

"Aw thanks Jae," before you could finish that sentence he kithes you 😌.

"I'm so in love with you," he slowly parts from the kiss and speaks SO SOFTLY skskskjdeokf.

You think you might pass out.

"I've been in love with you for the longest time," he looks you in the eyes and almost seems completely sober.

You agree to leave the club with him and head to his house (😏).

Jungwoo ♡

This bebe 🥺

He confesses to you.

Master of cheesy pick up lines!

You and him constantly had pick up line battles.

He always won.

You got into a pretty heated battle at one point, and you were determined to win.

"Is that a mirror in your pocket? Cause I can see myself in your pants," *insert baby boi wink*.

"No but I can definitely see something in your pocket. Is that a lollipop or are you just happy to see me?" you cheesily smiled.

"Once you have a lick, I'm sure you can answer the question yourself."

"Ew Jungwoo, let's get back on track..."

He laughs at your baffled behavior.

"Okay, what has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk?"

You already knew where this was going and stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

"My zipper," *insert wiggly eyebrows*.

You were very determined to win this round though.

"Kiss me if I'm wrong. Dinosaurs still exist right?"

"Oh yes, definitely."

"Jungwoo......." you sighed and rubbed your temples.

"Fine, fine. I guess you really want me to kiss you that bad..."

He muttered the last part so you couldn't really make out what he said until he leapt onto you and mushed his lips against yours (EEEEEEEEEEEEEE).

"I am dinosaur," he says cutely.

More kisses on the couch.

He admits defeat after giving a heart-warming confession.

Mark ♡

You both kinda confess at the same time.

You were childhood friends that had been separated when he moved and attended a different school.

You met back up with him when you had bumped into him at a cafe and exchanged numbers.

After coming home from work, Mark invited you to one of his band's concerts.

You got that VIP experienceee. Backstage access and all.

Mark giggled and jumped up and down like a fangirl when he saw you come backstage.

You joined in the crackhead energy and jumped/giggled like a fangirl as well.

"Enjoy the view," he says before walking onto the stage with his other members.

Tired baby after the performance :'( .

"Late night snack?" you asked.

He loved the idea and drove off with you to the nearest 7/11.

Got into a deep conversation about life and stuff.

"You know what, let's share one of our deepest secrets with each other. Just for fun and because we've been friends since we came out of the womb and our trust is impossible to break," he suggests.

You can see that he's also just as nervous as you but you, for some reason, love this idea.

"1, 2, 3!"

"I like you."

You both slap a hand on your mouths as you shout those words in sync.

You both burst into a GiGgLe FiT!

Mark drops his ice cream which makes you guys laugh twice as hard.

"That's crazy....." he sighs as he catches his breath while pulling you into a hug.

Lots of kisses on the cheek. 🥺

Winwin ♡

You confess to him.

You hadn't seen him in a while because he was AcRoSs ThE wOrLd at the moment.

You had been face timing him every day.

He always fell asleep on you though.

"I'll be coming back soon," he says over the call.

"Good," you said through your mouth full of cake.

"Are you eating cake without me?" he pouts.

"Yes," you say as you shovel another bite of the vanilla ice cream cake into your mouth.

"It's alright, there's an unlimited amount for me anyways."

You didn't understand his comment at first but furrowed your eyebrows at him when you did.

He laughs his bay bee boi laugh 🥺.

"It's good to see you again though," his comment makes you smile.

"Good to see you too," you wink.

You talked with him about how everything was going where he was and how everyone was doing.

It was getting later in the evening. (Later in the day for you.)

You watched as his drowsy eyes slowly closed.

Suddenly you thought this was the pErFeCt TiMe To ThInK oUt LoUd.

"You're so cute Sicheng. I'm literally head over heels in love with your perfect, soft, baby face," you rambled as you were swooning over his peaceful, sleeping face on your screen.

"Baby face?" he muttered as his eyes flicked open and stared into yours.

"Oh shi-"

You hung up quickly.

He called back within two seconds and you stared at your phone screen while curling into fetal position.

"You're so adorable," he says as your red face and twinkling eyes appear on the screen.

Haechan ♡

You confess to him.... Through a kith. 🙃

He had a whole day off and you decided to take him to an amusement park.

"Y/N!!! Let's share a cotton candy!!!"

You let him eat most of it, claiming it was his day so you would treat him to whatever.

Lots of relaxing rides instead of rollar coasters; a chill day.

It was getting late and the park looked amazing at night with all the lit up rides and twinkling lights everywhere.

So you and Haechan decided to take pictures and hit up all the rollar coasters now.

You rode the merry-go-round several times and took several crackhead videos and pictures on it.

You had your arm wrapped through Haechan's and your head was resting on his shoulder as the two of you strolled around the almost empty park.

"Haechan?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for this night."

He looks down at you and you lean up and KiSs HiM (WHAAAAA My HeArT 🥺).

A slow smirk spreads on his face and he leans back down to kiss you again.

"Thank you for this night," he says between kisses.

Johnny ♡

He confesses to you.

You had a long day at work and was tired of all the cranky, asshole customers.

You had ranted about it to Johnny over the phone during your break.

"Well, gotta get back to it," you sighed as you looked at the time, seeing your break was over.

"Alright, I'll pick you up today," he said through the phone.

You exchanged goodbyes and hesitated before getting up and joining back up with your coworkers.

MoRe BoOtYhOlE cUsToMeRs.

You were just mentally and physically exhausted all around.

Finally your shift was over and you were excited to see Johnny (a bright side to your cruddy day).

"Hop in loser," he said as he rolled down the window on the passenger side and stared at your slumped form sitting on the bench.

"I'm... Exhausted," you muttered as you rubbed your eye.

"I'm sorry Y/N. A warm shower will probably really be nice when we get back home. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, it's okay Johnny. Thanks though."

"You know, that's what I really admire about you," he says as his hand rests on your thigh.

"What's that?" you chirp and lean close to him with your elbows resting on the center console and your chin resting in your hands.

"That you're so strong and that you push through each and every day. You give 100%, even if everything sucks. You always give your best. That's what really made me fall for you," he said, his hand moving from your thigh to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Aw, thanks Johnny," you said, taking his hand and kissing it as you heart melted. "You know my heart belongs to you."

Doyoung ♡

He confesses to you.

You and Doyoung (after weeks of begging him to do this with you) had composed a bucket list together of things you wanted to do.

One of them was spend a night on a beach.

"Ew, there's going to be sand everywhere," he huffs and pouts as you lay out the blanket on the sand.

"Oh well! All part of the experience!" you say as you pull your shirt off (you have a bathing suit underneath ObViOuSlY).

He chases after you into the crisp, ocean water.

He doesn't go very deep and neither do you; you both chill out in the knee deep section.

Night starts to fall and you and Doyoung take aesthetic pictures with the orange sky and dark blue water.

"So pretty," he sighs as you both sit on the blanket, wrapped up in towels with a small fire in front of you.

"Yeah it is," you sigh as well.

"Just like you."

"Yea- Huh?" As you turned your head to question him, he leaned in and connected his lips with yours.

You savor the moment, staring into his eyes as he slowly parts from you.

"You ruined it. I was aiming for your cheek until you turned your head," he jokingly smirks.

Taeil ♡

You both confess at the same time (like Mork).

All the members knew that Taeil was madly in love with you and that you were the same way.

"Let's play truth or dare!" Haechan shouted as everyone was thinking of something to do.

"YES!" everyone immediately caught on to the plan except for Doyoung and Taeil who protested the game.

"Taeil truth or dare?" Mark asked.

"I'm not playing," Taeil shrugged his response.

"Taeil truth or dare?"

"Urmmm... I just said I wasn't playing."

"Taeil truth or d-"

"Truth."

The evil expressions that were plastered on all the boys faces was easy for you to catch and you groaned in realization of what was happening.

"Who are you madly oBsEsSeD with? And don't lie, I read your diary," Mark folded his arms across his chest.

"I- WaIt A mInUtE!"

"Hey Y/N, who are you madly obsessed with?" Jaehyun suddenly blurted the question.

You blinked in confusion, hoping your blank expression would eventually cause them to change the subject.

"W-well I think it's pretty obvious now," you said as you nervously scratched the back of your neck.

"What? No way," Taeil gasped softly at your comment.

"You like me?!" you both blurted at the same time.

"Mission accomplished gentlemen," the rest of the boys in the room said in satisfaction as they high-fived each other.

Whew! This post took me forever to write and edit!!! Hope you enjoyed it though. Now I must relax my cramping wrist :') .

#NCT #NCT127 #Johnny #Taeyong #Haechan #Winwin #Sicheng #Jaehyun #Taeil #Mark #MarkLee #Jungwoo #Yuta #Doyoung #NCT scenarios #NCT fluff #NCT x reader

[x0401x]

So I just finished the tsurune LN and wrote damn long thing about it but forgot there is a word-limit so I'll sum this up to the two points I had. I really believe the Masamina relationship goes way beyond Teacher-Student relationship. I really believe it has place to grow into romantic relationship, however not now. Maybe once Minato graduates, because right now Masaki obviously doesn't harbor any romantic feeling towards Minato. However, it can't be downed to S/T. It is much more complex 1/?

Phew! Finally had the time to write a proper reply to all this. If you’re reading it, thank you for waiting so patiently for my response! It’s huge, so I had to leave it under a cut.

First things first, I’m very happy that you decided to come tell me about your experience reading the novel. I love knowing people’s opinions of source material. It’s cool that everyone has different yet similar experiences with them. I know this is mostly not your opinions on it but actual facts from the books, though. And OP, let me tell you this… you get it.

All that stuff about Masaki and Minato being very close, their relationship highkey feeling like maybe it could develop into a romantic one in the future (because Masaki is very obviously not interested in Minato but Minato has acted like he’s got the biggest crush from day one), the complexity of literally everything surrounding them… yeah, that’s the whole deal with MasaMina. It looks very evidently one-sided (as it should be since one is a child and the other an adult), but it doesn’t seem at all impossible later on. I think that’s because Minato clearly has more affection for Masaki than anyone else. Realistically speaking, Masaki wouldn’t find any other person in this lifetime who loves and admires him that much, or who understands him that deeply due to having life experiences eerily similar to his own. This isn’t really something that can be easily overlooked, and it could totally kick in after Minato turns into an adult and actually becomes boyfriend material.

First of all, throught the Novel there way too much emphasis on their relationship, almost every character addresses it.I'd say the most significant is Ren and his representation of the "supernatural" theme in the Novel and in their relationship making it seem like they are tied by the red thread of fate. both marked, connected by their scars. Comparing Minato to Marebito accusing him for bursting their life and destroying Masaki's resolution and eventually asking him to take care of Masaki. 2/?

Yeah, lol. One of the things I love about the novel is that everybody and their mother can tell how close Minato and Masaki are just by looking. In particular, everyone can tell how influenced Minato is by Masaki and that both are very alike.

To be honest, the whole novel seems dead-set on the Red String of Fate thing. I mean, the prologue is literally about their first meeting, and also about Akihiro’s tsurune being Minato’s reason to start archery. Speaking of Akihiro’s tsurune, the author goes great lengths to use him as a deciding element in Minato and Masaki’s reencounter. He’s the reason for Masaki’s 10,000 shots, which is what enabled him and Minato to meet again. But more importantly, Minato goes after Masaki that night because he recognizes Masaki’s tsurune as sounding “exactly the same” as Akihiro’s. That’s a major stretch! A tsurune isn’t something that can be reproduced twice even by the same archer, let alone someone else. I’m sure Ayano Kotoko knows this, but she still chose to insert this little absurdity in the story just so she could form a link between the two of them beyond the time borders.

And then there’s all those extremely convenient coincidences, like Masaki being able to secure a position as Kazemai’s coach because his master happens to be the archery club’s advisor. Like Minato being “pulled” by some sort of tangible energy towards Masaki despite not even knowing that Masaki was in the same space as him at all. Like Minato having a literal fate-powered radar that allows him to always meet eyes with Masaki when he looks at a crowd, no matter how many people are there. Destiny is a Thing for them.

And let's admit it, the events from the Light Novel, at least the ones related to the both seem straight out of shoujo manga. Masaki saves Minato's life TWICE, the car scene, the fight, Minato's cold, even their encounter and Minato thinking Masaki will disappear.

Lol, yeah. Sometimes it’s even ridiculously absurd, like the author is fumbling for an excuse to write a shippy scene, like the one with the freaking boar. Literally all of their “moments” are too much.

Why so fucking dramatic. WHY SO EXTRA. Like the Masamina is being pushed down our throats. It feels like there are actually meant to be romantic undertones. I can't remember my counting anymore. 3/

This part of the ask was a mess and I love it. Also, you know why, Anon. You know very well why.

Whta finally broke me was the Novel ending with Minato falling asleep on Masaki's shoulder. Like it is the most natural and obvious thing in the world!!!!

That had me a bit emotional too, lol. I mean, you kinda get the gist that Ayano wants the final chapters to end on a MasaMina note from volume 1, so it’s only expected that something like this would happen, but still… did she really have to come for our wigs like that? The answer is yes. And indeed, it’s the most natural and obvious thing in the world. This is just how comfortable Minato is with Masaki, enough that he doesn’t even care if all his clubmates and advisor are looking.

I didn't even had the space to insert all the quotes supporting what I've said from the novel. considering making a big ass post on it.

Oh, it’s okay. I know by heart the scenes you mentioned. And I’m totally behind you. Make the post, if you haven’t yet!

Sorry for it still being 4 asks long and so oh messy. Ugh, after finishing the novel I can't even consider the anime an adaption.Well anyway Thank you I got into the novel thanks to you ! 4/4

Again, it’s okay. I like big asks. And I feel your pain, lmao. Also, I’m happy to have been of service! Glad that you had a good time reading it.

#tsurune #tsurune kazemai koukou kyuudoubu #takigawa masaki #narumiya minato #bless you

[lauras-collection]

More Than I Know [Part 7]

Tom Holland x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: You finally tell Tom what happened with Joe, your sister get’s married and dancing with Tom turns out to be more than just dancing.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings:  fluff, reader talking about somewhat of a toxic relationship? nothing else I think (let me know if there is anything in there that I should add)

A/N: Remember when I said that I was going to split the wedding into two parts? Yeah, those turned into three :D Was the story of Joe inspired by real-life events that happened to me? Maybe (read: yes) 

 I’ve never been to a wedding so I kinda guessed the whole thing. I hope you like it anyways!

I hope you enjoy!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

The wedding was taking place in the so-called Great Room of the castle which was beautifully decorated for the occasion, much like the dining room from last night, everything in white and gold. As you walked down the stairs towards the entrance to the Great Room you saw that Tom was waiting for you next to the door. He looked dashing in his black suit, his curls swept back nicely. When he noticed you, his eyes widened a bit, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something but no words came out. You walked over to him and he reached out his hand for you to take. 

“Wow, Y/N... You look absolutely stunning.” You blushed at his words as you took his hand.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” He smiled at you and pulled you closer by your hand, giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“Shall we go in?” He asked nodding his head in the direction of the door. You nodded, so Tom linked his arm with yours and led you inside the Great Room. 

Your seats were in the front of the room right beside where your parents were going to sit once they arrived. Daniel was standing on the other side of the aisle talking to his parents. He was shifting his weight from one leg to the other his eyes moving towards the door every so often even though he knew it would be a while until Kate would arrive. Tom kept holding your hand as you sat down and you nervously played with his fingers. He eyed you with a small smile.

“Nervous?” 

“Yeah... Is that weird? I’m not the one getting married, yet I’m nervous.” 

“I don’t think it’s weird.” He shrugged his shoulders squeezing your hand reassuringly. ”This is a big step for your sister so it’s a big step for you as well. But for what it’s worth, I think the ceremony will go smoothly and everything’s going to go according to plan. Your grandma told me how much planning went into this, I think it’s impossible for something to go wrong.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as well. 

“You’re right. This is probably the most meticulously planned wedding of the year.” 

Throwing one arm over your shoulder Tom pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your temple. “I’m glad I can be a part of it. Thank you for inviting me.”

“No, thank you.” You whispered afraid someone could overhear you. “For agreeing to accompany a complete stranger to a wedding.” You couldn’t believe that only weeks ago Tom was a mere stranger in a coffee shop. It felt like you’d known him for months, if not years. It’s crazy how much things can change in such a short amount of time.

“You never told me what happened with that Joe guy.” Tom said after he saw Joe enter the room, subconsciously pulling you a little closer.

“Huh, you’re right...” You raised your eyebrows. You had almost forgotten about Joe. When you first saw him yesterday you were afraid that you’d be thinking about him the whole time, even if it was just because you wanted to avoid him. But the thoughts of Joe had been completely erased by Tom. “Well, we met when I was fourteen and I was immediately smitten with him. He was always nice and kept hinting that he had feelings for me, too. He lives a few hours north from London so every time I asked him about his feelings for me he said ‘yeah there’s undoubtedly something between us but I just can’t commit to a long-distance relationship.’”You mocked Joe’s voice making Tom chuckle. “But instead of keeping his distance from me whenever we did see each other he kept my hopes up. Whether I wanted to or not, I always hoped that one day we’d be together. Until I tried to take the initiative once. I asked him if I could visit him, you know, to talk. Told him to give me a weekend where he had time. I looked up trains for the dates he gave me. And let me tell you those tickets weren’t cheap. But I was willing to pay that and travel several hours to see him. 

“In the end, he told me he had other obligations that weekend but he could probably fit in a couple of hours to chat. That’s when I suddenly realised that he never cared as much about me as I cared about him.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Long story short, he led me on for a long long time.” You pursed your lips as you looked at Tom. He looked down at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Phew. Well, that’s definitely his loss. But how come he’s here now?”  He turned around to look at Joe again who was talking to one of Daniel’s friends.

“He’s a family friend. But I really expected Kate to tell me that he’s coming.”

“But you’re good now? No lingering feelings or anything?” 

“Nah. I didn’t even think about him until you brought him up just now.” You gave Tom a proud smile. 

“That’s great, love.” He rubbed your shoulder and before either of you could say more your mother sat down next to you talking about how excited she was. 

The ceremony was beautiful. Seeing your sister getting married had you more emotional than you had expected. You teared up quite a few times while your mother was quietly sobbing next to you. Tom squeezed your hand every once in a while with a small smile. 

***

The reception was being held in the dining room that you had already seen yesterday but this time the decorations were even lusher, which you didn’t think was possible. But it still looked beautiful. Everyone congratulated the newlyweds, pictures were taken and you really enjoyed yourself.

Kate insisted on throwing her bouquet and even though you tried to stand as far back as possible, the beautifully arranged flowers landed right in your hands. Perfect. Your mum clapped her hands and pushed Tom in your direction waving the photographer over. 

“We need a picture! C’mon Y/N, show us who caught the bouquet!” She stood next to the photographer with the biggest smile and you rolled your eyes. 

“Me!” You said with fake enthusiasm and clenched teeth. Tom laughed as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“Don’t sound too excited, love.” You looked up at Tom, putting biggest smile you could muster on your face. He looked down at you, a similar expression on his face. “That’s more like it.” 

After that, the wedding breakfast was on the agenda. And to be honest you were really hungry. Because of your late morning, you hadn’t really had the time to eat actual breakfast. So the wedding breakfast would literally be your breakfast. You and Tom were seated close to the head table. You were sharing a table with Joanna, her husband and Lottie as well as Joanna’s mother, your aunt Mathilde. She was your mother’s oldest sister and just as enthusiastic about weddings.

After everyone was finished with their food, speeches were held which ended up being just as emotional as the ceremony itself. You had also prepared a little speech and your hands were shaking with nerves as you stood up. You had the sheet of paper lying in front of you in case you lost your place. You wrung your clammy hands as you looked around the room introducing yourself.

“When Kate introduced Daniel to us for the first time, I immediately knew that he’d be the one for Kate. Every other guy Kate brought home before him was bound to be kicked out by her eventually. And there were a lot.” You chuckled and so did everyone else who knew of Kate’s dating history. “No one ever had the strong-mindedness that matched Kate’s. It’s not a secret that she can be a handful sometimes. But Daniel is the perfect counterpart to that.” You turned to look at Kate and Daniel sitting at the head table. “You complement each other in the best possible way, and every time you guys look each other you can see that true love really exists. Kate, I’m so happy for you.” You had tears in your eyes again and so did your sister. You laughed at your emotional state. “Look at me, I’m crying again.” You wipe away your tears before continuing. “Daniel, you’re the best husband I could ever wish for for my sister. Welcome to the family.” You raised your glass with a smile and Daniel mimicked your motion sending you a wink, mouthing ‘thank you.’ Everyone else raised their glasses as well and cheered. You finally sat down again, having to wipe some more tears away.    

After Kate and Daniel had danced the first dance as husband and wife the dance floor was quickly filled with people. You were talking to Lottie when you felt Tom’s hand on your thigh. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“D’you wanna dance?” He asked with a sheepish smile and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

“Of course I’d like to dance.” You nodded and turned towards Lottie. “Will you be alright while I dance with Tom?” She only nodded too engrossed in a colouring book to give you a verbal answer. Her tongue was slightly poking out between her lips while she tried to stay within the lines. You reached for Tom’s outstretched hand and he pulled you to your feet before leading you to the dance floor that was in the middle of the room. The DJ was playing a somewhat upbeat song so Tom and you started duelling yourself with the most awkward dance moves you both knew. While you did the robot, Tom showed off his best boyband moves, making you burst out laughing. Tom grabbed your hands and twirled you around until you were dizzy and out of breath from laughing. He pulled you close so you lightly collided with his chest his arms wrapping around you. The current song faded out and the DJ’s voice was heard over the speakers.

“Let’s get romantic with a little bit of Ed Sheeran.” You heard Kate squeal, she was a huge fan, and run to grab Daniel to dance with him. The first chords of Kiss Me were heard and you automatically wrapped your arms around Tom’s neck with a blush on your cheeks. He slowly swayed you from left to right, his hands on your waist. Tom was looking at you with a cheeky smirk as his hands moved towards your back, inching lower towards your butt.

“Ah ah.” You grabbed his wrists. “Your hands stay right there” you moved his hands back to your waist. “around my family.” You playfully glared at him.

“Around your family, huh?” He pulled you closer so your chest was pressed against his. “So if we were alone, you’d let me?” He raised an eyebrow, that stupidly attractive smirk still on his face. Yes, you’d let him. But you won’t tell him that. 

“You’ll have to find that out for yourself.” you shrugged and gave him a smirk of your own. Tom’s cheeks lifted into a genuine smile as he continued to sway you on the dance floor. 

After a few moments of looking into your eyes, he moved his face a bit closer as if to tell you a secret. “Did you known I met Ed Sheeran at the premiere of his concert film?” 

“Is that supposed to impress me, movie star?” You made an unimpressed expression, even though you were indeed a little impressed.

With a barely noticeable shake of his head Tom let out a soft laugh, one of his hands moved to your cheek. He softly pulled you closer until his lips touched yours. You were surprised by the feeling of his soft lips against yours for a moment. But then you allowed yourself to close your eyes. This was most likely one of the last times you got to kiss Tom, might as well enjoy it. Your hands moved into his hair pulling him even closer as your mouth opened, your tongue meeting Tom’s. You melted into his touch, forgetting everything around you as you kept kissing Tom. His thumb softly caressed your cheekbone as you tilted your head to the side, urging your lips against his.

You were slightly out of breath when your lips eventually separated from his. The song was over and the DJ had decided on something upbeat again. But you didn’t even really notice. Tom’s forehead was against yours, his nose brushing against your own and you could feel his breath on your lips. Tom pulled you closer by your waist.

“Y/N I...” he paused and swallowed thickly as if he needed to pluck up the courage to say what’s on his mind.

“You..?”

He moved his head back a bit so he could look into your eyes and you knew that what he was going to say was important.

“I don’t-“ You were suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and pulled into the forming conga line by Dave who laughed at the face you pulled. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to do that.

Part 8

Thank you for reading 💕

Let me know what you think! :)

Taglist

@jackiehollanderr // @alicethestral // @snowxbarryxendgame // @van-horn-dashner // @sltwins // @yeahimcrying // @ohhhotstan // @heathera101x // @xxnomercy // @bbyxk // @infamousmany // @zabdisamor // @starsholland // @kthemarsian // @jillanaholland // @lamesister // @madon566 // @prettylittlevampire1864 //@llamazarecoolaf // @ultrunning // @rachaeldonnaspiteri1 // @ilmondodiennie // @poorlittlesuperstar // @averyfosterthoughts // @crazyfreaker // @tbh–idk29 // @oh-mymendes

Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the taglist! (make sure your blog is visibile in search, otherwise I won’t be able to tag you)

#tom holland au #tom holland fic #tom holland series #fake dating au #tom holland x reader #more than I know

[somuchtowrite]

WIP Questions Tag Game

I was tagged by @whywritewhenyoucansleep (sorry it took so long!!) and @sundaynightnovels, and i think a few other people?? sorry if i missed you, thank you so much!!

1. Describe the plot in one sentence? 

A mage needs to save his siblings for a cause, but that cause is turning out to be much more mysterious–and dangerous–than he had thought.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel and taste to describe the aesthetic for your novel.

Sight: Mist Smell: Pennies Sound: Metal on metal Feel: Heat  Taste: Mint

3. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

Conqueror - Aurora Warrior - Aurora Learn to Let Go - Kesha Revolution - The Score Agnes - Glass Animals Who We Are - Imagine Dragons

4. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place? 

Modern times (late 2017 I’m thinking?)

5. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded? 

For a long time, I thought I would call it The Sanctum, but then I found a book with the same title and decided that wouldn’t work (plus I actually ended up removing the plot point that had to do with a sanctum because it became unnecessary). I’ve considered a few other titles, but I’m still not sure how I feel about them. For now, I just refer to it as Lark and Eli, which of course won’t be the final title but works for now:)

6. What’s the first line of your novel?

“Eli was being followed, and he didn’t like it.” (To be edited, I just wrote it to get words on the blank page and it worked!!)

7. What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

“They’ll just get a new batch of mages and do it all again, and I won’t be able to escape.”

8. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

Eli blinked. “What?”

9. Who are your character(s) faceclaims?

I don’t do faceclaims it messes with the images I have in my head. No one looks exactly like them, anyway, and I don’t really see the point. I’m sure it’s helpful for some people for visualizing their characters, though!!

10. Sort your character(s) into Hogwarts houses. 

Eli: Hufflepuff Lark: Gryffindor Viktor: Ravenclaw Xendalia: Gryffindor Kane: Slytherin

(I want to sort so many other characters but it would take up so much space askdlgdklsdjf)

11. Which character’s name do you like the most? 

I love Lark’s name. I found it in an article about words that you could use as names and absolutely fell in love. I also think the name Andrea is the most gorgeous thing ever, which is ironic since I gave it to arguably the most unpleasant character. Oh, and I can’t forget about the name Naomi, which I adore (again ironic, since she’s even worse than Andrea).

I want to say more but I’ll restrain myself, but know that I love all of my characters’ names!! I wouldn’t choose them if I didn’t think they sounded nice lmao

12. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

At the castle, the standard outfit available to everyone is a plain white shirt and black pants, but they have the option to wear whatever they were wearing back home (which obviously depends on the character, since they all have different tastes). The only characters who dress differently are Xendalia, who wears sort of dialed-down, medieval-esque outfits, and Celene, who typically wears a long, blue silk dress with no shoes. Along with that, the minor gods have a sort of uniform with armor since they guard the castle. 

13. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Eli has a scar on his chin from Naomi pushing him onto a dock when he was seven. It serves of a constant reminder that she truly hates him, which is something he tries to push to the back of his mind as much as he can.

Mostly everyone else has scars all over, if not from their own trials then from getting cut while training. Emma in particular is riddled with little scars since she’s put so much practice into her swordsmanship and doesn’t believe in using anything but the real deal. Plus, the wounds that Lark heals almost always leave a scar, no matter how big they are. Lark heals everyone, which basically means everyone has them.

14. Which character most fits a character trope?

Depends on which trope, I suppose. I guess Xendalia would fit into the strong, unflinching stereotype because of how she grew up, and Viktor is the silent intellectual that shows up in a lot of fiction. Still, both of them have so much more to them that I have a hard time putting them into a box like that. Every personality has been done before, but not by you, you know?:)

15. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Viktor would be the best writer, if only because he knows his way around the technical aspects of it. Still, he doesn’t exactly have a way with words, so that side of writing would be best left to someone else. None of them have much time for writing, but I could see Sarah writing angsty poetry in her room before greeting the next day with a smile.

As for the worst writer, I would say it would be either Luke or Andrea. Luke because it wouldn’t interest him in the slightest, and Andrea because she wouldn’t see much of a point. Neither of them have really written before, and they’re not exactly eager to try it out.

16. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Andrea and Nicholas, but in different ways. Andrea is good at covering things up, lying after things have happened to keep herself in the clear, while her brother has a knack for keeping things a secret to hide the truth.

The worst would have to be Lark. When she blushes, it’s way to obvious, and she’s the kind of person who can’t even tell a white lie without turning red.

17. What character swears the most? Least?

Ashley swears quite a lot, but she knows when to reign it in. Andrea curses excessively when she’s angry, but barely ever when she’s not. The least would probably be Jasper, mainly because he’s only twelve, while everyone else just curses an average amount for a typical teen–probably still too much, but enough to get their points across.

18. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

The best handwriting would probably go to Sarah or Emma. Sarah likes things to be pretty to look at, and that includes her handwriting. Emma, on the other hand, doesn’t care much about the aesthetic, but she’s still an artist. Pretty much anything that comes from her hand looks nice, whether it be a drawing or a letter. Viktor’s handwriting would be an acquired taste, consistent and blocky.

Eli or Lark would probably have the worst handwriting. Barely legible, actually. Eli’s just because he never tried very hard when he was younger and it shows, and Lark because she writes so fast that her letters flow together until it’s impossible to tell where one word ends and another begins.

19. Which character is most like you? Least like you?

I like to think Lark’s reactions to things are similar to how I think I would react in her situation, but I could never be as calm about everything she is. Everyone character is just their own person, and though I’m sure parts of myself are woven into each and every one, I’d have to do some personal self-reflection to figure it out (which I don’t ever plan on doing, thank you very much. I’ll repress my feelings as much as I please xoxo).

20. Which character would you most like to be?

Caroline Joyce, Eli’s very human, very irritated best friend who gets shoved into the story against her will. As much as I would like to have magic, I’d rather not be subjected to the crazy world Eli and the other mages have to live in, and Caroline has a good balance of normal and magic. At least, as good as it gets when your best friend is a mage and drags you along on his adventures.

Phew!! Tagging (if you want to!!) @things-waiting-to-be-written, @marewriteblr, @drabblesofthesoul, @plutocoeurwrites and anyone else who wants to do it!!

#tag game #wip tags #lark and eli #phew that was a lot but it was fun!!

[sesshatetsuko]

Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction : See you in life Beyond -Chapter 3-

Summary : For as long as he remembers, life had never been easy for him. So when carefully-buried memories are brutally awakened, the worst can happen… *A long canon post-Jinchuu story, including most of RK’s main characters, depicting how Kenshin tries to survive his inner demons, and how he and Kaoru finally became a family…*

Link for Chapter 1 : https://sesshatetsuko.tumblr.com/post/178514684317/rurouni-kenshin-fanfiction-see-you-in-life

Link for Chapter 2 : https://sesshatetsuko.tumblr.com/search/fanfiction%20chapter%202

Chapter 3: First glimmers of evil

It was one of spring's first sunny week in the new capital, after a fourth season which had proved to be labored that year. This morning, only the last sighs of winter's chills were still being felt, and the dew perched on budding leaves was sliding to the ground with the help of a slight wind.

Every inhabitant of the Kamiya dojo -including its brawler and its wanderer- was busy with its favorite task : Kenshin was doing the laundry, Kaoru was chasing her disciple through the yard, Yahiko was being chased by his assistant master, and Sanosuke aka the brawler was chewing obsolete remains of a fish carcass while waiting anxiously for mealtime.

"Phew ..."

The former Sekihotai let out a sigh, dusting his jacket with a lascivious gesture. His belly was clearly yelling famine.

"Hey Jou-chan, when ya're finished with the shoutin' match, could ya tell me if there's somethin' to eat 'round here?"

Sanosuke Sagara had the nasty habit of giving nicknames to most people who were hanging around him, as if calling someone by his first name suddenly risked causing him in an oh-so-fatal form of spontaneous combustion. So Kaoru was Jou-chan, Megumi was Kitsune, Saito had inherited of the wolf and Yahiko-CHAN was self-sufficient.

"Why you..."

Kaoru suddenly stopped her race to point a finger at the streetfigther.

"How dare you even speak of that?! Don't you know you can bring food and cook it by yourself like a grown man, instead of always complaining!? "

Her eyes spoke of hell's chasms and sulfurous vengeance. Sanosuke took a preventive step back, and Yahiko, glad that the attention was momentarily diverted from him, took this opportunity to move to a safe place – which happened to be in that case right behind Kenshin's back. He knew from experience that the situation could quickly deteriorate ...

"Maa maa do not argue," said the wanderer, pulling his hands out of the soapy water. "This one will take care of it as soon as he finishes the laundry, that he will."

Strangely enough, Himura was revealing in repetitive daily chores, as if to compensate for the chaos that had been his life so far. Except for a few intimate friends, most people who knew him back in the days of Bakumatsu did not understand that a former cold-blooded assassin, in this case a patriotic leader occupying a key position in the revolution, could be satisfied with such a routine.

A simple, normal family life... he has probably never known that before, thought Kaoru whose gaze softened at the sight of the samurai humbly hunched over the basin, sleeves rolled up, a patient smile on his face. The soapy bubbles were going up to his elbows and formed a frothy beard under the cheek where he had previously wiped his hand.

"I'm glad to know ya're the one making miso today, Kenshin," Sanosuke continued. "Haven't recovered yet from last time Jou-chan cooked and my guts literally tried to get out of my tummy!"

"What the hell..."

The young kendoka's eyes flashed instantly. Kenshin could have sworn he saw drool running down her chin.

"... I feed you for FREE and that's all you have to s-"

"Is tha' a reason for trying to poison me ?!" the accused rebuked, pointing at her too (yes, Sanosuke sometimes had suicidal tendencies).

"It's true that you aren't spoiled by nature busu ; as thin as a plate and unable to bake anything edible... "Yahiko rectified, feeling compelled to place a comment to calm the situation, always bravely sheltered behind the wanderer.

"A little respect for your master! RHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA "

Thus Kenshin -or rather his face- received a boken, two stools, five bowls, and three daikons. His defence resulted in :

"Orororororooooo ..."

"Kenshin, I'm so sorry!"

Kaoru realized too late that the red-collapsed form on the floor was innocent, and rushed to his side.

"Yare yare," said Kenshin, rubbing his head, "This one is fine, Kaoru-dono."

The samurai could have easily dodged each of her projectiles, even catching them flying and sending them back in one movement. The stool by the way, properly launched, could have made a nice whiplash injury ... But Kenshin was uncomfortable with showing his talents of former assassin, acquired in a context as painful as macabre, nor to use his incredible capacities in a harmless environment that did not require it. Note also that Kaoru was a proud master of kendo who did not deserve in the eyes of the wanderer to be humiliated or discouraged by such behavior. Above all, the mere idea that his beloved might one day be afraid of him or feel physically threatened, and therefore begin to act cautiously around him, was enough to make him feel nauseous.

As he got up, he did not fail to accidentally brush Kaoru's hand, whose face immediately went through six distinct shades of scarlet. The two lovers got up as quickly as possible, spending the next few minutes trying not to look clumsy.

A classic day, in other words.

A little too much maybe...

"...Excuse me?"

All heads turned towards the entrance gate of the dojo where a young man was standing, his black hair strictly brushed, dressed in a navy uniform trimmed with white at the ends of the sleeves. It was cut short at the level of legs, revealing sober satin shoes on which were mirroring perfectly the metal sheath of his saber.

"Can I help you?"

The mistress of the dojo approached the newcomer, who did politely salute in return.

"Agent Kyosuke, I wish to see Himura-san," he informed, "I have a letter from Officer Fujita to give him."

"If you look for him, this one is here," The wanderer instinctively took place between Kaoru and the stranger before greeting him quickly, taking the paper directly from his hands.

"So what does it say?  "asked Yahiko, who had instantly hurried to join the three adults.

"It's a letter from Saito..." Himura mumbled as he was decrypting the katakana lines. He did not answer more, focused on reading the document.

"Huh, that's all...? Don't keep the information for you!"

While the unique pupil of Kamiya Kasshin was starting the well-known dance of 'plz-tell-me-I-need-to-know' and Sanosuke was discreetly asking the postman if he did not have some money to lend him before realizing at the same time that he was instead a policeman, Kaoru was watching closely the samurai whose dorsal muscles had momentarily tensed.

"Can I see it...?" She said, gently slipping her head over his shoulder.

He crushed the paper in his hands.

"...What's the matter?"

The expression on Kenshin's face froze, then a cautious smile crawled across it.

"Saito asks this one for help on a mission."

"Well?"

"This one does not really know what it is for now. We'll see that later, that we will," he said, crouching again in front of the wet basin." Agent Kyosuke, please convey to Officer Fujita that he can count on this one's help. "

"Understood, Mr Himura. He will be delighted to hear that. "

With that, the policeman withdrew and the wanderer resumed its work, showing obvious attention on the cleaning of a hakama, returning exactly where he had stopped it before being interrupted by all this fuss. His mind, however, never really returned to the task at hand.

Seijuro Hiko completed his furoshiki in no time.

A spare outfit, his purse, equipment to sharpen his katana if necessary and of course his faithful jar of saké hanging on his belt. Nothing else was needed to cruise the roads. Of pragmatic nature, the master never cared about such insignificant material details.

Honestly, he was far from pleased to go on another trip. The mere thought of confronting this stinking, swarming and uneducated mass that the people outside his forest were was enough to give the hermit heartburn. Unlike his disciple who had wandered most of his life, Seijuro was rarely leaving his mountain. As for that terrible intuition that he'd had about him... Hiko still did not understand what that meant, but after spending several days running around in his hut trying to solve the impossible equation, he had reluctantly resolved to leave. In almost forty years his instinct had never deceived him.

In haste, the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi began his journey to Tokyo ...

In the middle of the night Kaoru was awakened by moans-like noises. Enjoying busy days, it was rare for Kamiya Kasshin's master to be a light sleeper.

What the...?

It was almost three o'clock in the morning and the neighborhood's streets were theoretically empty at this hour. As she focused on her hearing, she had the feeling that they were coming from the place where the samurai slept. Had he shouted so loudly as to pull her out of her sleep? Or was her audition playing tricks on her?

Whatever... I cannot take the risk of something happening to Kenshin.

Rather than thinking about this subject blindly, she decided to endure the coldness of the night, and stood up. The young kendoka feverishly put on her yukata before lighting a candle of wax, then discretely opened the next room's door...

Curled up on the edge of the futon, makura ejected on the floor, Kenshin was twisting around furiously in his bed. The cover was unstructured to the point of discovering his torso, riddled with scars. Although unconscious, the wanderer was aimlessly opening and closing his lips, as if talking to the wooden ground. And, to her surprise, he did not seem to be aware of her presence at all this time. She kept her ears open.

"Tomoe..."

His face was fully contracted.

... He's speaking in his sleep?

"Tomoe"

His arms were moving in all directions. He turned his head again, his features marred by the expression of intense pain. The kendo teacher was watching him with a mix of astonishment and horror.

"K-Ka ... o ... ru ..."

Grabbing his skull in his hands, he almost tore a bunch of red hair with his grip. The young woman felt her heart tighten.

Is he dreaming of our deaths...?

Her decision was made... She entered the room, knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was cold but covered in sweat.

"Kenshin. I'm here, "she whispered," I'm fine ... "

The wanderer did not react, his eyelids still vigorously closed.

"I'm here," she continued, shaking him slightly.

"No..."

He was biting his lips so hard that a discrete trickle of blood escaped from them.

"Nooooooo ..."

He doesn't hear me ...

All the while struggling he continued to moan, contracting his muscles at a strenuous pace. Despite the repeated words and gestures of the young woman, nothing was enough to wake him up. Kaoru continued for a few minutes before giving up.

It's no use. He's gone too far ...

She didn't want to shake him too badly either. The wanderer needed rest. Reluctantly, she closed the shoji of the room and silently went back to her own bed. Falling anew into the arms of Morpheus was hard enough that night, for the young woman was saddened to see the former Ishin Shishi still fighting the endless demons of his past. He would never tell her about those in the morning, but she suspected his nightmares to be much more frequent than what they actually could see...

The samurai, for his part, continued to struggle violently against his invisible enemies. After a few minutes, he finally seized the guard of his sword, which contact was frozen.

"NO!"

Kenshin awoke abruptly. His whole body was shaking. Tears were running down his cheeks and his heart was beating wildly. Only the silence and the cold twilight of the night surrounded him, but his mind was still engulfed in the long-winded abyss of his memory. He took several minutes to realize that he was just in his room. And that all this was only a vision.

He waited until his body stopped shaking. Let the tears stop flowing. He dropped his blanket, took his katana and stood up.

Enough sleep for this night.

Kenshin entered the police officer's desk directly without being announced, causing a panic attack to the receptionist he had greeted nonetheless. The tyrannical Goro Fujita was particularly meticulous about procedures, and that included the one about never disturbing him without warning.

Mibu's wolf and former patriot were staring at each other.

"Saito."

"Himura."

"I received your letter."

"Well, that'll save me a boring speech."

"Tell this one the facts."

When they were both alone, their relationship was fundamentally different. Patience and politeness were out of place between former adversaries who had exchanged more saber blows than greetings.

"You're even more irritable than usual Battosai ..."

The former Shinsengumi silently noted the rings under the indigo eyes of the redhead. He grabbed a large blue binder resting on his desk, from which ink-filled leaves were partly coming out. And began to peel them...

"The facts, Saito," repeated the wanderer.

"You are therefore aware that the police of Tokyo, Kyoto and even Osaka are investigating a large-scale case of disappearance ..."

He took out a document, where colorless portraits were drawn.

"Children, precisely."

Himura winced.

"Hm. And what do you expect from me, exactly?"

"Nothing."

Saito took a breath from his cigarette. The wanderer was nervously touching the handle of his weapon.

"Nothing so far, I just want you to keep wide-open eyes around you."

"This one is already doing so."

"...And to report any suspicious behavior to me," the officer finished.

Himura nodded. The officer put the bundle down carefully. Even sorting out the news sent by Kyoto forces had asked him a considerable amount of time.

"When I'll have a need for you to intervene, I'll call you back," Saito concluded, turning his back to the window. "For now, I don't have any more information."

The wanderer did not need to be asked twice.

"Understood, this one does not like this kind of case either."

#Rurouni Kenshin #fanfiction #See you in life Beyond #sesshatetsuko #chapter 3 #himura kenshin #Sagara Sanosuke #kaoru kamiya #Saito Hajime #seijuro hiko #First glimmers of evil

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

And so I continue on my epic re-read of that nonsense royalty AU mixed with a teen movie except gayer-- uh, I mean, Misadventures

Chapter 6 here we go

I already remember that when I wrote this chapter I wanted to throw my laptop out of the window because it was impossible, so now I’m scared

Kim actually doing exercise in this fic was me directly calling myself out for lazing around all day

He tries to get out of detention by pulling the “but I’m a prince!” card ashfskdjhkf that won’t work on Lady Mendeleiev!!

Speaking of, I’ve had Ms Bustier called “Lady Caline” in this thing but Mendeleiev’s still referred to by her surname? Can’t remember what I was thinking tbh

Kim you dumb idiot, the nobles aren’t moving out of the way because you’re royalty, they’re moving out of the way because MENDELEIEV IS WITH YOU

Ohhhh my god stop accusing your own classmate of murder, I think Alix would have much more than a detention if she’d fricking killed someone

Sidenote: Alix did not deserve detention. The rules didn’t say anything about rollerskates so she did nothing wrong and this was very unfair

And there’s me showing off how much research on cobras I did lmao

...I’ll be honest, 90% of the reason I wrote this fic was because I wanted Kim to have to walk with a book on his head

goddammit you know when you notice symbolism in your writing that wasn’t there before? this fic is hecking doing it already. striking a BALANCE between being a stupid idiot and being a thoughtful goodbean is legit a running theme in this thing, and,, that’s,, their detention,,,sdskgkjf

I’m the noble who fell off the balancing beam. it’s me

Kim... I’m going to hit you on the head with that book I s2g STOP BEING A JERK

the symbolism gahhh I’m dying, he needs to be more patient and less reckless just like his life skjdhksjd sjdghbsjfhsk laksjflad

How did Mireille end up in detention, you ask? Simple. Aurore framed her. Those two have a real hecked up relationship in this thing and oh boy it’ll take a front seat in the sequel if I ever write it

well dammit now I ship Kim with Mireille I mean they held hands

“If someone doesn’t get over here to help me finish this stupid thing right now, I will throw this book at someone’s face hard enough to send their teeth into the back of their brain.” pls... alix... hit ME with the book I’m begging you

I’m. having an allergic reaction to Kim’s crush on Alix. I know what happens later in the fic and I’m already breaking out in hives

Chapter 7 is called “90% chance of death” which is an accurate statistic to describe the mortality rate of reading it

I MADE A NINO AND POTATOES REFERENCE OH MY GOD I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING BAD I EVER SAID ABOUT THIS FIC, IT’S PERFECT NOW

This reads like a game of Civilization and yet I hadn’t even played it yet at the point when I wrote this part

MAX W O W HAVE SOME FAITH IN KIM OKAY, HE’S A DICK AT THE MOMENT BUT HE’LL GET BETTER

And Kim stop trying to be tsundere, you’re so bad at it. everyone knows the real tsundere in this fic is Alix,

There’s me showing off about knowledge I learned on wikipedia again

“That would be the coolest way to die. Agonizing death by snake bite. I would love that.” Juleka you can’t just SAY that to Alix oh my god do you even know what happens in chapter 25???

Kim being good at archery is 100% a shoutout to Dark Cupid btw also he’s a sagittarius like me and I’ll fight you on this

Max just got bored and straight-up left the sports day lmaooo that’s the biggest mood

I can’t wait for chapter 60 where the Other sports day happens and it’s like the total inverse of this one

YES ALIX, GO OFF

she’s highkey lying. she cannot order someone’s execution, she may be a pharaoh but she really doesn’t have much power lol, she just pretends she does so people will let her do what she wants

only chapter 7 and Kim’s already crying over something dumb (aka the threat of being eaten alive by a venomous cobra)? nice

“I guess me suddenly storming in here and lowkey threatening to kill you may have been overboard” uh yeah, you don’t say?? he kinda deserved it tho lmao

I love how Kim’s all like “ayy there’s plenty of other cute girls at this school for me to fall for!” when the two people at school he falls for next are both BOYS

alright chapter 8 now baby, and yes the title “Chick???” makes perfect sense in context I swear

Oh here’s one of those boys already! Kim’s crush on Adrikins is so damn obvious I love it

The umbrella scene happened except with a parasol

the whole “you four seem to make a good group” thing was me thinking how Marinette/Adrien/Alya/Nino is a god-tier ot4

oh god I want to hug Nath

OKAY OKAY SO. Nath and Alix don’t make friends until like chapter 44 or something, but the reason she knew already that he liked Marinette was because Juleka told her in the snek scene earlier, and then Alix used this knowledge to force people into giving her chocolate

Alya your gaydar is so broken... almost none of the girls in your class are straight

I’m also going to hug Alix, I know what it’s like to be a confused baby aro -- in fact I was at the time I was writing this skdjfhksdjhgkjf

Kim’s homework was just me typing out a bunch of intelligent-sounding words I remember seeing in Crusader Kings II tbh

MAX YOU PRECIOUS GAY BEAN, GIVE IT LIKE 20 MORE CHAPTERS OKAY

ohohoho chapter 9 here we go

noooo Alya noooo don’t trust Theo!!! you’ll find out why in like chapter 47 but just!! don’t trust him!!!!!!

Alya I s2g... of course Marinette likes girls, she’s bi af

Chloe and Sabrina are wlw too... please fix your gaydar I’m begging you

same with Rose, good grief, she really does love Juleka omg

I love how I called the kingdom of Couffaine “mysterious” and “distant” because I hadn’t decided where it was yet, because I’ll have you know that for the sequel I’ve decided it’s the non-distant and non-mysterious Orkney Isles

Alya just knocks on Juleka’s door like “YO ARE YOU A LESBIAN?” skdjhkjsdhg I’m sobbing

No Alya, Couffaine isn’t a morbid kingdom, Juleka’s just really goth. Couffaine is just like how Scotland really is lol

Kim wtf you can’t just ditch Max like that good grief...

and there I go teaching the readers about geography, because that’s definitely what normal people talk about in their conversations

Alix’s ringtone is definitely a rickroll by the way

I love that these characters are in fact completely aware that they’re idiots who should not be in charge of a country, what they’re unaware of is all that precious, precious character development heading their way nyehehhehehe >:D

Look... I know I said I was having an allergic reaction but hugs with height differences are Very Important to me so just this once I’ll let it slide

Phew, chapter 10, and then I’ll stop because holy shoot I need time to process the ridiculousness of this mess

oh my god Kim literally burning the letters his parents send him in order to avoid his responsibilities is?? such a mood?? I’m basically doing that myself right now

This is the only time Emperor Gabriel even has any lines until like almost the last chapter lol

anD IT’S FULL OF FORESHADOWING OH MY GOD ADRIENNNNN

btw Chloe’s oracle question was “will I marry Adrien?” and of course the answer was no, so that’s why she was upset lol (idk what Marinette’s question was, I didn’t think of one oops)

more geography lessons!!!

Max being irrationally mad at Alix’s country having a higher GDP than his was inspired by him being mad about losing the gaming tournament to Marinette in the Gamer episode, by the way

Alix... is a reptile scalie I’m gonna regret saying that aren’t I

I love how her oracle question is literally just a stealth “I’m aroace, right?” and that makes the irony of the next bit so much funnier omg, poor Kim lmao I was so so cruel

(also I finally fixed that inconsistency... Fu said he was 186, but technically everyone in this fic is about a year or two older than they are in the show at the beginning, so he should be 187 instead)

Kim has just accepted that he’s going to die young by doing something reckless and stupid, that’s such a gen z mood wow

I’m genuinely losing brain cells because of Kim right now, I’m contracting the bubonic plague as I type, I’ve already lost 3 years off my life and so has Master Fu,,,, ask a sensible question you idiot

No Kim, it won’t be CPR, she really will kiss you, you’ll just know okay... now if you’ll excuse me I need to go bang my head against a brick wall for several hours

#welp this is actually more entertaining than i remembered #misadventures #yeah i'll just tag it as that lol #random stuff

[besidemethewholedamntime]

Maybe Number 4: "We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair"? :)

hello! thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so sorry it took so long but here it is and I hope you like it! It was actually so lovely to write, thank you so much for sending me it

Early Mornings 

{Read on Ao3}

Jemma blinks awake, blearily looking over at the alarmclock that she hasn’t heard go off. 05.47. Phewshe thinks, letting her heartbeat return to pre-panic rate. There is, inher opinion, no panic greater than that of thinking you’ve slept in past youralarm clock.

Sighing contentedly and letting her body melt backinto the mattress, she rolls over, intent on getting another forty-threeminutes of sleep while she can in order to be properly rested for the chemistrytest later. However, instead of rolling over into a nice, empty space she knowsthere should be, she rolls into something warm, but solid.

“Unggf,” the solid mass groans, and then rolls overand suddenly her brain clears and Jemma realises that it’s quite alrightbecause it’s Fitz.

She smiles to herself and hums acceptance and isalmost back asleep before her eyes pop wide open and her brain goes back tobeing confused because what is Fitz doinghere? In her bed?

Jemma frowns and, in another moment of panic, shequickly takes a peak under the bedcovers. Phew.Clad in pyjamas just as she should be. Not that she ever thought she would forgetdoing something like… that, with Fitz, but it’s pre-6am and he’s in her bed andshe can’t remember why.

She ignores how she almost accepted it as normal, likeshe could get used to waking up every day with Fitz by her side.

Grumbling a little at the forty-three minutes of sleepshe now won’t be able to achieve, Jemma begins to run through the events oflast night that could have possibly led to this conclusion.

They have a chemistry test today, and so Fitz wouldhave come over to study. Her room, because it’s neater and tidier and she hasthe best notes to study from, even if she does say so herself. She remembersnow. They ordered food at a ridiculously late time and then by the time theyate and studied some more it was far too late for a person to be out walking atnight and so she offered him to stay. Except Jemma’s never really had anybodyto stay before, and while her parents had given her a camp-bed for any guests,the room is tiny and there’s a distinct lack of floor space for such an item.

“Youcan just sleep in my bed,” she had said, ever so matter-of-fact. There wasreally nothing wrong with two best-friends sharing a bed, together. Societalrules were archaic and Jemma prided herself on being above all of thatnonsense.

“Uh,”Fitz had swallowed - gulped, really - and he had looked at the single bed hewas sitting on as if it was suddenly something that could kill him. “Uh, yeah,we could.”

It’s all coming back to her now. The way the two ofthem getting into their night things and then under the duvet had been strangeyet familiar in a way that was puzzling in itself. The way that she had fallenasleep almost instantly, comforted by the breathing that she hadn’t even knownwas familiar until now.

He’s her best-friend, that’s it. That must be why.Jemma’s never really had a best-friend before. Has no idea whether or not younormally feel such a sense of peace whenever you see them, like you could takeon the world if they’re right by your side.

She risks a look at Fitz again. He’s snoring softly. Notin an unpleasant way, in fact it’s rather… nice. It’s all quite domestic in away she didn’t think she’d ever get to experience. In this early morning lightwith the sun shining just right on his face he almost appears to be glowing.

“Ugh,” he suddenly produces a sound, opening his eyesbut squinting a bit. “Bloody sun,” he mumbles, nearly incoherent and apparentlyto himself. “Waking me up. Never have to worry about it at home since there isn’tany.”

A hand comes up to rub at his eyes and only then doeshe notice Jemma, eyes widening in alarm in the same sort of panic she had earlier.Only it takes him a moment less to figure it all out, and she sees the tensionleave from his body the second he does.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, yawning. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, quite well actually,” she answers, perhaps justa touch too enthusiastic. Chatting like this, both of them facing the otherwith the duvet pulled up to their shoulders is very intimate in a way that is entirelynew, she assumes, for both of them. She can’t decide – though there’s a lack ofexperience in either area – if this feels more like a childhood sleepover or oneof the more adult variety.

“Good,” he yawns, then checks his watch. “Aw, we’vestill got ages until this Chemistry test. That’s fine.” He lets out a breathand snuggles more under the covers.

“Yes, yes, we’ve got quite a bit of time,” she agrees,but doesn’t snuggle under as easily. Jemma wants to say something about gettingout of bed to do some last-minute cram studying (she might excel atpreparation, but last minute is Fitz’s area of expertise) or showering oreating a nutritious pre-exam breakfast. She wants to say them, even open her mouthto, but the words get caught in her throat and she doesn’t try to force themout.

This entire situation, even though it isn’t really asituation at all, appears to have taken her breath away.

Feelings of something stir deep in her chest. How isFitz so calm when last night he had almost had an aneurysm and looked as thoughshe had asked him to commit murder when she’d suggested sleeping in the same bed.How dare he have the nerve to be so serene this morning, when she’s mere centimetresfrom him feeling more confused than she has in her entire life?

Fitz, who had closed both of his eyes in what sheassumes is an attempt to go back to sleep, opens them again and frowns.

“Simmons? You okay?”

“Wha- yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” It’s alittle bit too far, a little bit too defensive and Fitz’s frown only deepens,genuinely concerned, and it only sends her further into a tailspin.

“You’ve just got that look on your face, you know,when something’s bothering you.”

Something is definitely bothering her, but it’s not asthough she can tell him. When she doesn’t answer he inches closer, a feat shedidn’t think was possible in this tiny bed.

“Hey,” he says, voice impossibly soft. “What is it?”

“It’s…” and she knows she won’t tell him, not until sheknows exactly what’s wrong. She allows her eyes to really look into his, thatdeep blue that is so enchanting that, if she didn’t know it was scientifically impossible,she swears she could get lost in. It’s with just a touch of longing and regretshe says, “it’s nothing.”

#thefitzsimmonsnetwork #aosficnet2 #fitzsimmons #fitzsimmons fic #fanfic by moi #ready-to-kick-some-ass #prompts #thank you so much!!

[royal-writer]

Love Was Her and I : Part 1

I’ve come to the conclusion that this portion of the story is taking too much out of me to write. Therefore, I will be cutting this au not into two parts; as originally planned, but three rather extensive pieces and two smaller, bonus pieces.

This first piece is 42 pages long, single spaced so... Enjoy that.

Part 1: Here Part 2: Click BONUS n1: Click Part 3: Click BONUS n2: Click

Day 1

It wasn’t going to be a good day.

He could tell from the sharp ache in his legs. The stairs already were proving a challenge so early in the morning even with a white-knuckled firm grasp to the banister.

One step at a time, he reminded himself. He could still do this-

A steady hand found his waist. It slipped around his frame to grasp him as he stood rigidly; aware of the way he wavered. His freed arm on his left side was tugged upward with encouragement.

Amon latched on to the supportive shoulder offered with a ragged breath. An apology already flickered in his eyes and fastened ahold to his features as he turned to look at the allure of a face so radiant it still gave his feeble old heart a flutter.

No mortal should be this impossibly angelic.

She was so sublime. The profile of her body still so delicate; thinness wrapped in warm tones off autumn skin marked with time. Years of hardship; scars from battles lost and won, dark marks from the sun on her skin as well as in black hair with shades lightened on top and sneaky strands of silver curling out here and there.

She wore only a plain pair of beige trousers and a simple blouse today. It was perfect of course; everything she put on looked lovely and grand on her. Paling in comparison to her luster; no dress, jewels, lingerie or simpleton clothing; not a single piece coming close to the scale of her divinity.

And her caramel colored eyes, holding the windows to a beautiful soul that held the key to his heart. The most lively shades of all in those eyes; never having changed a day even as age crept over laugh lines. Even as time defined the area beneath those eyes with puffiness and wear.

“You wouldn’t mind escorting an old woman down the stairs, would you?” she teased; her voice a musical gentle chime.

He scoffed softly, rubbing his fingers into her shoulder.

“If you’re old, my darling Essätha, then I must be prehistoric.”

She gave a noise of disagreement in the back of her throat. Leaning in just enough from her waist to avoid pressing weight into him, she kissed his cheek.

“I only see a rather dashing man beside me, m’lord Amon,” she purred all too sweetly. “A very handsome, very sweet, very lively gentleman who looks gorgeous; and whom still finds all the energy to chase me down the halls and raise his sexy commanding voice to gain control in a room full of bickering noblemen.”

His smile grew vaguely puzzled as she kissed his nose and reached up to brush some stray white hairs back from his forehead. What did she mean by raising his voice at noblemen?

There it was again. The look of dawning fear that faded in and out of view each day.

Amon smiled tightly, trying to find the answer to replace the pain in her eyes with the endearing look he longed for. But his thoughts, alas, continued rounding on her comment.

“T-That’s okay,” she breathed, urging him to take a step forward with her as she looked away. “It- It was a long day yesterday. I’d push it out of my thoughts, too. Those dukes; phew, they sure don’t know when to pick their fights but you had them just so under your heel.”

He… had?

“I mean one could hardly get a word in! Yapping on and on about the highland forests. They’re not up for negotiation; it’s not a good place to consider placing a trading post and building a town but do they listen, heavens no! Forget the fact there’s a peaceful fey population there living undisturbed. Forget the fact it’s inhabited by vicious wildlife that would surely tear apart any construction and scare away potential citizens.”

Essie gave a sniff as she finished her rant, looking to the opposite hand rail as they took a few more gradual steps down the stairs.

She was crying again.

He knew that sound. Knew it all too well, as of late. It wasn’t a breath of irritation from whatever incident she spoke of. It was a desperate, stuffy-nosed inhale to calm herself.

His hand dug into her shoulder blade. Agony sweeping through him; so desperate to console her, to make it better-

And then a different agony; splitting in his hip and stealing his strength.

A string of curses in various languages as his leg gave out and he slipped.

He should have fallen, really. She was much too small to hold him up but she was feisty and she was determined. His amazing wife; so gentle and so kind, locked her arm around him tightly. Holding him there at the waist against her side with labored breath as he tried to steady himself.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered, her voice broken.

He had this.

He could do this.

Amon gingerly rested his feet back on the stairs. Testing his weight, finding that there was only an ebb of pain now in his side. Most if it had radiated down to his ankles instead. Tolerable. He hurt much these days; this was nothing compared to… he lost his train of thought. Had he felt worse before?

“Miss,” Essätha’s voice cut into his muddled thoughts. “Would you mind fetching a chair?”

Coming to, the Illiad heir blinked tiredly as he spotted the young maiden walking down the hall ahead at the end of the stairwell. She curtsied respectfully, and stole away with haste.

“I’m so sorry my dear,” he muttered angrily, looking down at his feet to balance his steps as they followed their descent.

“That’s okay,” Essätha encouraged, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re doing just fine, my beloved. Let’s just focus on getting you off these stairs and sitting on something sturdy and comfortable.”

Comfortable. Nothing felt comfortable these days.

Nothing but the softness of her touch, so careful and unfaltering against his side. Nothing but her love, still so strong and true as it had ever been.

Much as he didn’t want to, Amon allowed himself a glance over to her. Hoping to catch her eye; praying to see her loving smile and nothing more. Please, nothing more than the happiness and caressing love that washed over him; bringing him strength where nothing else could. Nothing but her joy; the delight she deserved to have in her heart and written on her face.

She was mostly turned away from him. A vacancy in her gaze.

This was his fault.

Her pain was because of him.

Miserable; with nothing on his broken thoughts to better her wounds, he looked shamefully away.

Completely unaware of her, an opposite hand going to her chest and the stricken flash in her eyes as she held her breath with tormented pain.

Day 2

With the stairs having been such a challenge the other day, Essätha insisted on having breakfast upstairs in the sitting room to their chambers. The house staff was, of course, was willing to accommodate the request but Amon felt no less guilty. In turn, he could hear the fretting of his soft-hearted wife trying to help carry in anything and offer a hand.

What a blessing, that woman. Much too good for the likes of him.

She helped him to limp on his throbbing legs over to the couch. Murmured words of encouragement nestled close; her hand upon his side. Something about his medicine being prepared; sweet nothings going in and out of his ears that rang with his rapid heartbeat.

Medicine? He didn’t have medicine. Had there been a doctor here the other day? He couldn’t remember. So many comings and goings. He wondered if he’d recognize the individual.

They sat before the coffee table in content silence. A tray placed between them on the sofa topped with only some of the foodstuffs spread across the table before them.

He picked up a steamy fruit-stuffed pastry. Taking a bite first, then offering a delicate (albeit somewhat shaky) hand out to Essätha and watching the way the light played on her face as she caught his movement. A laugh; so real and so lovely as she leaned in to accept a bite. Playfully almost, raising her eyebrows before she’d pull away to go back to nibbling on a piece of bacon.

Amon found himself full before he even finished the pastry and managed to force down the horrid painkiller concoction. Funny, he could definitely recall eating more than this with ease some time ago. A full plate and then some when the day prior had been particularly taxing.

For a while, he closed his eyes. The clatter of shifting dishes resonating in his ears as his Essätha ate.

With a grunt, he reached out to paw for his mug of coffee between slit eyes. His back popped and creaked as he held his teeth firmly together to keep from moaning with pain. Taking hold of the handle, he leaned back gradually to shift his weight from his aching hip. Not so much as bothering to blow the steam from his cup; taking a lengthy drink of the harsh beverage.

He held his breath. Preparing himself to lean forward and return the mug to the table, when gentle fingers met his wrist.

The mug effortlessly was tugged from his grip as it loosened. A glimpse to a teasing smile and vibrant eyes; watching as the most beautiful woman in the world took a drink precisely on the spot he had in an indirect kiss.

His heart squeezed at the nonsense, flirty little act.

Without delay, he leaned over the edge of the tray.

Essätha placed the mug on the edge of the table as she mimicked the action. Pausing, her hand slid the tray to the side the closer they got. Holding it further and further out, just shy of the nearby table-

It fell to the ground in a soft clatter as they sat close. Mere inches apart, fanning soft breathes against each other’s cheeks.

Footsteps at the door.

“Is everything alright, Lord and Lady-”

“Bring more coffee, please,” Essätha stated, her voice only carrying just enough to be heard.

Neither of them turned to see the young handmaiden curtsy as their lips met. Gently, taking no wild rush or passionate craze into a wildfire but a softened, aged union. The biting acid of harsh coffee; the care of mirrored lips tracing over one another before molding in a faint sigh.

She still kissed him in a way that was mesmerizing. Different from any other; true and effortless, taking all the time in the world with such tender doting fondness.

Hands shaking, he reached up to take hold of her perfect face in his callused hands. Hearing the way her breath hitched. Just as responsive to his touch as she had always been. Bowing to him; leaning in to taste his lips and quiver in a manner that said what her voice did not but her body so clearly did: overcome with emotion, so totally and completely smitten with every bit of him.

His back hurt at this angle, but he would make due. Especially for this; especially for her.

And like she could read his very thoughts, she pressed closer to him. Sending him further and further back, until he rested flat against the sofa with her looming over him. Bright, pink cheeks and a brilliant grin curving on that flawless age-thinned mouth of hers as they parted ways.

“Mmm, doesn’t this just give you memories,” she laughed with embarrassment.

Finding his fingers into the loose wisps of her hair, Amon tucked them back behind her ears as he leaned forward just enough to kiss her brow.

“The very best,” he agreed. Pelor, the kaleidoscope of flashbacks felt like just yesterday…

She moved to slip away from him, then. His hands falling away, clutching for hers as a dejected look fell over his face.

“Oh don’t give me that face,” she giggled, reaching around to grab a pillow.

Taking hold of his legs, she helped bring them up on the sofa. A wince; holding back a hiss as rippled agony shot through him. Slowly adjusted, she rested each limb on the pillow for leverage.

“That should help with some of the swelling,” she muttered to herself, fluffing the edges.

Clearing his throat to keep the shaken edge off, Amon spoke up faintly: “You are too good to me.”

He very nearly could feel the tightness of his throat and the burn in his gaze as she regarded him. That unwavering love; all the confidence and support he never could have dreamed to see in someone’s eyes looking to him.

She was an unexpected part of his life. A plan not made, but one he couldn’t live without. Not anymore.

To consider how his life may have otherwise been; stuck in his house alone… Or worse yet, stuck with no house and still wandering uselessly like a ghost with the spirit of his step-kin residing here. Fontane’s fate hidden from him; the man’s soul still suffering in limbo.

Her unknown to him, still lost in the world.

The taste of a memory colored upon his thoughts. In the dancing firelight by the hearth, sitting across from him in the Boar’s Tusk tavern with fingers laced in front of her. A pint of ale before him; a pint before her, watching her smug confidence and teasing smile as she looked into his eyes. Her words had been vain and yet kind; offering her assistance in reclaiming his home on his behalf. A lost man spending days slipping further and further away from reality.

Her voice came out much like her eyes appeared; a deep amber of golden sweet honey awakening him: “I am your wife, my sweet. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Ignoring the flair of echoing fire that seared into him, Amon sat up quickly. His rough hands took hold of her waist, hearing her muffled squeal as he dropped back down with her sprawled out halfway on top of him. Suffocating slightly, but warm and soft.

“You are so incredibly beautiful, my darling Essätha.”

He cut off her startled protest with a kiss. A bit less sophisticated than the last; rasping his mostly-white salt and pepper beard against her chin and cheeks.

He pulled away. A roughness in his voice as he practically growled, “I love you.”

Another frantic kiss. Hands roaming; moving up her back to gently weave in the bouncy curls and waves of her hair. He liked it when her hair was down; the ability to hold the smooth locks between his fingers.

As they broke apart once more; only by centimeters, she laughed with surprise.

“I love you too, but would you give me a moment to respond!”

“Your lips are doing just fine at that.”

“Oh, you naughty old man.”

A wide, splitting grin, and he pressed another kiss over her mouth, sealing her in place.

For a moment, he wondered if he’d mistakenly been too forceful. Or perhaps his beard a bit too unkept, as she flinched and grew rigid.

Parting for a breath, he tried to find his words to inquire of her well-being, but she surged upon him. Shaking, an unexpected roughness to her greedy mouth. Less plump than it once was, no less wonderful to kiss.

The door to the room softly opened, and shut thereafter with a nervous giggle that went unheard.

This- this was all the life he needed. In the refuge of her presence where he found solace.

Day 5

Why was she giving that man such a dirty look?

“Thank you, Xanner,” Essätha coolly responded, “That will be all for the day though, I’m afraid.”

The vassal gave a polite bow in response. Low; almost kissing upon Essätha’s knees with one hand to his chest and the other behind his back.

“Any time you need me, my lady, I’ll be right here for you.”

Amon couldn’t say why, but he didn’t care for the man’s words. This Xanner fellow’s eyes were empty of depth as he righted himself to steal a glimpse into Essie’s eyes. A perfect posture; nicely tailored suit, his briefcase barely scuffed and a heavy scent of cologne lingering on him. Something harsh; befitting his uncaring face.

On a whim, the Illiad heir reached out to take his wife’s hand. Squeezing gently, feeling her returned gesture and the racing of her pulse beneath fingertips.

Xanner’s glimpse moved over to him next. He offered a slight bow, and nothing more. Now, his memory may be faulty, but Amon felt the gesture appeared to be lacking. There was usually more class and over exhilarated enthusiasm in all greetings and well-wishings to an heir of a noble bloodline. This man’s gesture seemed… far less invested in him than he had Essätha. Which; although she was clearly the far more beautiful and intriguing individual here, soured his thoughts immediately.

He simply did not care for the lacking respect.

He certainly did not care for the lasting gaze upon his wife.

As soon as the man left the room, Essie took a heavy seat beside him.

“You do not like him,” Amon commented, curiosity in his voice.

She tore her gaze from the door to him with some surprise.

Licking his lips nervously; aware of the place of humiliation this put him in, he spoke quietly: “Has that man done something to us that I do not remember?”

“Oh- no my beloved, Xanner is just… complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“Do not worry about it, my dear.”

His eyebrows knitted together. That was only going to worry on his thoughts more now. The man; whatever his name was (it was already slipping from grasp again), had held little to no respect to him. And the way he’d looked to Essätha; not with adoration or even respect but with an unspoken hunger…

His thoughts skipped. Jumping on the needle of a record-player, he could already feel his train of thought disappearing even as it formed. He hated it when that happened. Had that feeling happened already today? Is that why he was so frustrated?

He forgot entirely. It didn’t matter.

By the time he roused from his mind, he noted Essätha’s fingertips rubbing into her temples. A frustrated grumble from her mouth and she exhaled loudly through her nose. Tilting forward, her elbows rested upon her knees as she continued drawing circles over her the side of her head.

“Essie, my dear…?”

“Oooh this blasted headache.”

With a worried smile, he reached over to rub a hand against her back.

“It may be from the stressful conversation. Maybe I should go have a talk with him-”

A hand reached out to grab the one he still had resting on his leg.

“No. Please, he’s not worth it. I’d rather have you here.”

Her lips appeared pale as she smiled lightly. A dancing light in her stunning light brown eyes, looking straight into the core essence of his soul with profound love and longing.

A strange, unfamiliar glimmer traced over her face seconds later. She leaned over once more, groaning with agony.

Gently, Amon placed both hands on either side of her hips. He pulled her carefully, until her back was flushed completely on the back of sofa. His mouth pressed to the side of her face as he leaned over her, carefully reaching down to rock her flats a few times before they’d fall into his hand where he could drop them on the floor.

“M’lord Amon I’m fine-”

“Shhhh,” he whispered, pulling her against his side.

There wasn’t enough width to the sofa for two people to lay on it, so he held her to his chest while pulling them down. Groping for a pillow, he jammed the oversized cushioned pad beneath his shoulders and propped his head up.

He wasn’t as strong as he once was. But she was slim; and although the pressure on his chest wasn’t an ideal weight, he’d felt worse.

“You’re always taking care of me,” Amon murmured, kissing her cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

She gave him a smile once more. It was faint, as beads of sweat collected on her forehead.

That was no headache.

Giving a quiet hush, Amon placed a hand to the back of her head to encourage her to lay down. Her face nuzzled into his shirt with a shudder, fingers grasping the fabric of his clothes.

In response, he rested his chin against the top of her head and held her carefully. Rocking from side to side, feeling the way her frame grew limp against him as she relaxed.

Feeling the sweat from her face seep into his clothes.

He would need to remember to have a doctor hailed. He would need to… to remember…

Essätha’s breath came out a gasp, startling him.

“My dear?”

No response. He gave her a gentle shake.

A sleepy mumble this time, slurring.

The poor, graceful beauty, Amon thought with concern. He rubbed lightly against her backside as she drifted into a deeper sleep. His own eyelids began to fall just listening to her slowed breathing and heart rate, a sigh on his lips.

What was he supposed to do later? Ask… ask one of the servicewomen to… to do what again?

He’d think of it later. For now, he would allow himself to rest pleasantly, knowing his lovely wife was sleeping right there with him.

Day 6

From one person to the next, his dark encircled eyes moved. None of them looked the least bit familiar. None of them carried a thought in his head; a candle to guide his way through the murky depths of what remained of him.

It left him unable to focus on anything they were saying. He had to be sure when they directed their full attention to him that he could speak appropriately. Thus far, he’d been lucky. His doting wife took all the conversation with stride and elegance; her hands clasped before her knees and a polite smile on curved lips that colored her cheeks.

He knew he should remember them. He was the Lord of these lands, and he knew the people he served.

Or… Or he had, once.

The gentlest hand found his. Delicate fingers, so small and dainty weaving between the spaces of his own. It comforted him; soothed his thoughts to some degree. At just a glance to Essie, it elevated the dull ache in his chest. The sense that he was not good enough evaporated. His old heart felt lively once more in those seconds; and the edges around his eyes grew less deep as he’d smile fondly.

She cast him a tender smile. But the sadness in her eyes, it reminded him of himself all over again.

“How very kind of Otis and Elewys, right dear?” she hummed to him gently. “Bringing that bottle of syrinelle red you enjoy so much.

Oh, Pelor bless her considerate heart.

Nodding, he offered his first true glance to the pair’s eyes. His smile eloquent now; no longer straining as he inclined a respectful gesture to the couple.

“Thank you for your consideration as always, sir Otis and miss Elewys,” he managed; a bit panicked that he could not address them by their last names properly.

“Oh Amon!” the lady laughed’ her shroud of stained red lips opening wide with grating laughter. “You hardly need to thank us. After all, it was you who introduced us to it. Otis hardly enjoys drinking anything else these days. Isn’t that right, honey?”

It took every ounce for Amon not to wither beneath the stare of the man. He had a deep, balding hairline and scrutinizing eyes beneath the pair of spectacles he wore. Through them, his sharp green eyes seemed to be digging into skin. Crawling against him; trying to figure out what was amiss.

Not everyone was so blinded by his the masked disguise.

A sharp noise from Essätha rounded the man’s attention back to her; tearing his gaze free.

“You wouldn’t believe the conversation we had just a few days ago with some of the local counts,” she explained. “I’ve simply not been able to recover from the situation; it was so draining dealing with the scoundrels! You should have seen m’lord Amon though; such a fierce bear among deer. He had the gents quivering in their boots.”

For only a brief moment, the Illiad gentleman felt terrible in recalling none of this. Even worse, seeing her struggle through conversation to place a safe cushion for him to fall on. Trying to hide how far gone he truly was. Saving him the agony of admitting defeat and wounding his pride all the more by asking questions that he should already know the answer to.

But the feeling vanished rather quickly; forgotten from his disintegrating thoughts. It took only the squeeze of her palm to his, and the brightness of her eyes to leave him smiling in his forgetful state once again.

His thoughts were even more scattered than usual. A tiredness pulled at his eyes; willing them to close in slow-blinks. Just enough of his youthful training reminded him that it was rude to fall asleep in the presence of company, much as he wanted to.

“Oh honey, I can believe it,” the woman; whatever he name was, sang with laughter.

“Whatever were all of you talking about?” her husband inquired in a surprisingly light voice.

Instead of taking in the words, Amon listened more to the tone of voice from his dear wife. The rise and fall in her spinto timbre. The giggles she produced in the middle of her phrases that was so perfectly her. Gentle and airy; a melody more divine and softly played than any instrument he’d ever heard.

As she spoke, she leaned closer and closer into his side. The warmth of her curves against him, inviting him to rest.

Essätha reached over to him with a free hand, pressing against the side of his head as she murmured something he didn’t catch.

Whatever the case, he willingly allowed her to guide him. Nestling into the crook of her neck, inhaling the lovely scent of vanilla and rose on her delicate skin.

He should be feeling bad. Putting her in this position; covering for his exhaustion now as well as his fragments thoughts. Never quite recalling enough to be anything but a lost soul among conversation.

But her frame was hot. Flushed red; he guessed, with shyness or embarrassment.

An untrue assumption.

“You’ll have to pardon our exhaustion,” she guilty expressed to their guests. “We’ve spent many a nights griping and debating the damn meeting, you see.”

Was that a lie? He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it so.

He wanted to ask her to stop protecting him. He wanted to speak on his own behalf; but what could he say? What honor he still held; what desire in himself to still be recognized as a man and as the Lord of the Emerald Expanse, it still longed for respect. To admit his weakened state was to lower himself in the eyes of all who worked around and beneath him.

He didn’t want to be treated more like a half-wit then he already felt he was. Judging himself far more harshly than his worst critiques.

In that moment, too tired to care what they thought or said, he nuzzled a drowsy placement of his lips into the heat of Essätha’s neck. Feeling the burn of her skin. The rush of her pulse; a drum resounding in her. It didn’t quite sound as he believed it to when she was startled by his actions or warmed by his touch, but then again, who was to say he remembered?

A bit bitterly, he sank into a quiet doze. Lulled by the ebbing soft voice that sang to him; lilted in his ears and drugged him. Pulling him into a deeper sleep as she released his hand to stroke his face and hair.

Oh, no sweeter paradise compared to sleeping there, right next to her. Guests be damned, he was shortly and happily lost in heaven after only a few coaxing caresses of her hand.

All was right and well in the world with her there, his darling Essätha.

Day 7

He managed the stairs today, if for no other reason than to follow Essätha as she wandered the house with the maidens to clean. Hopelessly devoted, a follower to her ethereal light.

Listening to the laughter of the young women, it brought him a reason to smile. Even as he mostly dozed; placed in a chair upon each room. Here and there catching a glimpse of Essie’s eye as they caught each other staring, and would begin to laugh.

Oh, the way she turned a deep, shy red in the face as he’d catch her glimpsing his way. Such a twinkling gaze of warmth and love exuded from her. Absent were his worries and his concerns; hardly catching the way the girls giggled as they’d witness these longing glances.

He was an old fool; but he was the happiest, most devoted, most in love fool of them all.

It completely went missed; with his eyes closed, the way his dear would pause to clutch her chest with a trembling hand. A troubled light cast over hazy eyes. A gently murmured excuse to pardon herself to the bathroom, only to lean into a wash bin. Fingers clutching the edge as dizziness washed over her and subsided in crashing, unexpected waves. Drops of embers radiating into her lungs.

But she would return, a calming smile as she walked over to kiss his sleepy face and shuttered eyes.

Only, to be tricked into a stolen kiss. His hands would slip behind her head and through hair to hold her in place as he smiled against her mouth.

And whatever ailment either of them had, so briefly, simply did not exist as they’d laugh with fondness.

Day 8

Wasn’t he supposed to do something? He couldn’t remember. It was hard to remember, curled up against Essätha’s side.

She leaned over to brush her lips against the top of his head. The heat of her body burning like a fire against his side. Gentle fingers coming up; brushing through his thinned hair in slow, sweeping gestures.

A slurried mess of words grumbled out of him.

“What was that, m’lord Amon?” she teased, distractedly placing a kiss to his cheek.

“Are you almost done with that?”

Hoarse giggles echoed in her petite chest. The gentleness of her hand moved over the back of his head, working into the stiffness of his shoulder. Kneading carefully and slowly until a relieved sigh managed to work it’s way through him.

Pelor, she was too much. Much too thoughtful. Somehow, someway, she knew just where to touch him. Coaxing out another alleviated groan as she rubbed into the sore places on his side and down to his waist. Tender little circles both small and wide shifting over and over against him both high and low from waist to hip and back again.

“I can be, if you’d like.”

“Do you want help?” he murmured, more preoccupied with her hands than his words.

Her silence had his eyelids rising from their half-lidded bliss. With a tired sigh, he glanced up to her sweet face. She looked tired. Darkness sitting beneath her eyes; a thin smile that she leaned down to press into his temple warmly.

“If you wish to help, my beloved, I wouldn’t object.”

Grumbling, Amon reached out for the paperwork in her hand. He tried to concentrate on the scrawled writing in front of him. Much of the scratching he didn’t recognize, but the signatures already squiggled across a few pages in a curled slant he still recalled.

He forgot some of the phrasing as soon as he read it. Not because of his slipping mind, but because of how distracted he was by the gentleness of her touch. Moving from fingertips to palm; massaging into the most tender, aching spots of his body…

If he was a younger man, Pelor…

“I know just what to do with this,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Amusement in her voice; drawn into her own distractions pampering him.

Giving a gruff noise in the back of his throat, Amon flicked the paper in the direction of the coffee table. It missed of course; rolling over a few times before settling on the floor.

Essie gave a faint snicker in response. He could feel her tense up to move and stand, but his arms reached around to hold her in place.

“M’feeling selfish,” he mumbled into her shoulder, “but I’m going to have to ask you to leave it and stay here, beside me.”

A content sigh escaped Essätha as Amon rubbed his cheek against her shoulder. Daring to inch closer; pressing a lazy kiss against her hot cheek and then to her toasty throat and neck. Breathing in the fragrance of her skin and breathing warm air back against her as she shivered with awareness.

“A rest would be nice,” she finally agreed, a bit breathless.

He placed another soft press of his rough lips to her jaw. Scrapping his beard to her tender skin; feeling the warmth of her seep into his cold as he lounged into her side. Delightfully warm and soft.

She shifted once more.

Instinctively, he clutched to her as she moved. Unwilling to loosen his grip until he became aware that she was only just moving to get more comfortable. Turning in to his body, her other arm squeezed between the cushions and him to grope both of her hands into his hips.

“Mmm, if I was only a little younger,” he taunted quietly, voice muffled against her shoulder.

“Tssh,” she hissed, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “This is perfect. You’re amazing, just the way you are. I love you, and I love holding you like this. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

A drawn out snort of disbelief reverberated in his chest. He was not the perfect one here.

Nevertheless, he cuddled up into her awaiting body further. Drinking in her heat; finding comfort in her angelic, careful hands and the sweetness that was all her. Drifting in and out as he rested his cheek to her collar, listening to the faint pulse beneath.

As he fell into a deep slumber, she shifted restlessly to sleep. A flushed tone to her face, gasping faintly for air as she slept.

Day 10

Amon reached out, groping for the warmth of a body that should be there.

With heavy eyes, he grunted as he forced his aching old body to shift around.

Only just a glimpse of bedhead dark hair, his shirt, and some loosely drawn sleep drawers from Essätha’s frame were visible as she exited the room on drifting feet.

Moving a hand to his face, he emitted a muffled groan. The nearby window was shuttered closed and curtains drawn, but even still some of the half-moons light managing to find a way in through the dark sky into their bedroom.

He got to his feet slowly. Pins and needles of sharp, brief, small flickers of pain wedged into his body like starbursts. Mumbling incoherently through a yawn, Amon shuffled after his wandering wife.

Her path lead out of their chambers, and out of the sitting area. With edged nerves Amon limped; occasionally placing a hand to the wall for support, as he picked up his pace.

This was very unlike her behavior.

Where was she going?

In the hall, no suggestion of which direction she had gone. Torn with indecisiveness, he took the route considered to be the one that would lead swiftly to both kitchen and staff off on the right. Maybe she had went to seek out something? Someone?

But he had been right there. Right there, at her side. Surely she could have; would have, sought him out first. He was there for everything with her… They’d seen it all, together. Walked through hell and back hand in hand. He had only been resting inches from her.

The library floor was cooler than the hallway. A glimpse throughout the room, and he spotted the slightly agape door that lead out to one of the upper level balconies.

Slowly; carefully, he made his way to the glass-paneled door. Even picking up his feet this time rather than shuffling; not daring to startle her if she was outside as he tried to silently pry out the cracked door.

Oh, she was…

His heart swelled in his chest. A short, faint, hardly-there gasp.

Simply, he was stricken. Sitting upon the granite surface of the bench pressed up against carved rows of stone that enclosed the space, Essätha lounged against the marble. Her face rested upon arms folded over the ledge like a dream.

Moonlight hugged her clothes and shaped her face softly. Reflecting in the sterling hues in inky hair, setting a starlit glow to her eyes that could barely catch from the angle he stood at. Her legs were tucked beneath her as a sigh dragged out from her lungs, followed closely be a wince.

The pained action was a slap to his gaping mouth. He’d been so captivated by her celestial pulchritude that for such a brief time, he’d forgotten how odd her actions had been to leave the bed in the middle of the night in such a manner. No comment, no softly-whispered words.

She’d just… left.

Clearing his throat, Amon tapped gently upon the edge of the door.

Essätha was quick to turn towards him, a hand to her chest.

“O-Oh, m’lord Amon…”

He shifted his weight from the wall to shuffle outside.

And like the darling, tender woman she was, Essie was instantly on her feet to offer him a hand.

“What are you doing out of bed,” she fretted, aiding him to the bench.

A raspy chuckle escaped him.

“Looking for you, my dear,” he replied, taking hold of her hand to bring it to his lips as they sat.

Her face was flush as he looked to her. At first, he had simply thought her to be embarrassed at being caught, but the sheen on her face, the void over her eyes-

He reached out to touch her face as she tried pushing his hands away.

He’d meant to call the doctor! That was the nagging sensation; that is what he’d been forgetting to do! But she’d been acting so fine, as of late, and it had fell away from his brainless head. Always forgetting- what sort of husband was he?

“I’m sorry,” Essätha drawled tiredly, half-closing her eyes as he felt along her feverish face with worried eyes.

“It was hot in the house; I just wanted to come get some cool air… You were sleeping so well… I didn’t want to wake you… I- I should have known you’d wake up without me there-”

“Shhh- shhh don’t apologize,” he muttered in a rush, carefully feeling along to her chest.

Pelor, she was warm all over.

“I didn’t mean to wake you-”

Amon pressed a finger over her trembling, colorless lips.

“None of that now,” he soothed. His hands were shaking, thumbs moving to stroke along her jaw and along her throat. No signs of lumps, no foreign shapes.

With a weak sigh, she leaned heavily and suddenly into his side. Making no objections as his anxious, shaky hands carefully felt along her chest and down to her sides and stomach.

Warmth spilled against him everywhere he touched. Slicked with sweat, her breath soft against his side-

She gave a wheezy gasp.

Cursing aloud for his careless, rough hands, Amon jerked his touch away.

“N-No it wasn’t you,” she rasped with exhaustion against his neck. “My chest aches.”

“I’m calling the doctor-”

“Don’t wake the maids, dear, it’s so late.”

A groan passed through him. Wrapping an arm around her side, he held her to him as she rested her face at the crook of his neck.

“You’re going to catch a chill out there,” she mumbled.

He snorted through his nose. He was going to get a chill inside then, because she was not in there with him. Warming his side; warming their home with her delightful glow.

“Why don’t you come back inside with me?” he requested gently. “I’ll fetch a basin of cool water and we’ll see about lowering that fever.”

A silent nod pressed into his shoulder.

Taking hold of her hand, Amon moved to his feat. Overhearing her mostly muted cry of protest; the feeling of her fingers digging into his hand as she held to him.

Without hesitation; without question, she followed him. To her feet, directly into his arms with a muffled whimper as he pulled her in close. The salty smell of sweat and sweet hint of lavender on soft, sticky skin.

He took a few steps back. Eyes meeting hers; fingers curled together as he encouraged her to move with him. Off the outlook, in the library, and through the house into adjacent the hall. Their steps careful treading.

His feet clipped against themselves, but he held steadfast to keep from falling over. A promising smile, guiding her through the passageway slowly.

Dragging out a shuddering breath, she leaned all of her weight into his side abruptly.

They stumbled and by the grace of Pelor, Amon found his long-lost strength.

Propping weight into one of his burning heels, he took hold of her tighter than he’d like. Grasping her to his chest; feeling the shivers race over her damp skin. He would waver and stagger before regaining his composure, an exhaled gasp of shock finally pulling out of his lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice cracked.

Anchoring his weight to his assured leg baring the brunt of their load, he shifted. Unhinging gradually, he dragged the both of them back the short distance into the wall.

Her shoulders were shaking. A tearful inhale, clutching on to the front of his shirt.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shhhh, shhhh, don’t cry,” he soothed, rubbing his arms along hers as hands against her back.

“Don’t cry my love; my darling Essätha. Shhh, shhh. You’re fine here. It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

Her sobs pressed into his shoulder. The ever-present heat turning into a radiating fire. She was only growing hotter; her strength disappearing more and more in wobbly legs.

He wasn’t sure at first if he could hold them both, but her sharp cries had him clutching her closer.

He would make do.

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He hated that sound. It did not belong in this strong woman. It was a foreigner, stealing into her kindness and good heart.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it harder on you-”

“You’ve made nothing harder for me, dear Essie.

“I could have made you fall-”

Pressing his legs out to trap her so she wouldn’t stumble, Amon leaned back and took hold of her face in his hands. His thumbs skimming; wiping away the tears that did not fit on those splotchy cheeks. Tears that should never be on such a lovely face of gentleness and beauty. Tears he loathed to see.

“I would never let you fall,” he swore, staring deep into her eyes. “Do you hear me? Never. I would be your cushion if it came down to it. I’ve got you. I have strength enough for the both of us; I will take care of you.”

A dry, pained rasp answered him. She looked away, a slight quiver from her lip.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he pulled her into his body. Feeling her shivers; the rapid flickers of her heartbeat pressed so close to his.

“Let me help you,” he hoarsely added. “You work too hard, my darling Essätha. Let me look after you. Let me love you and care for you; as your partner and as your husband. I took an oath to stand beside you, in sickness and in health.”

He held her waist tightly whilst pushing off from the wall. A bit unsteady for a second; his limbs trying to function despite the pain and the added weight. But he steadied because, by all the gods, he would not falter now.

With the waver of his frame, she tried to pull away from him.

“Don’t run from me,” he urged in a whisper, holding her firmly to himself. “Don’t brush me off… Don’t… Don’t let me forget when you are hurting.”

She moaned, gripping tightly to his shirt as she drew in a breath.

“M’lord-”

“It’s no excuse!” he rasped, voice breaking as he clutched her closer. “Don’t… Don’t give me any excuses.”

“It’s not your fault-”

“I’m failing you-”

“No, my beloved, please-”

A frustrated exhale, smothering her shaking frame against himself as he breathed into her ear, “I’m sorry. I never meant to bare so many burdens upon your heart and soul; upon those perfect shoulders. I would never… have intended to cause you so much torment.”

“I’m a weaker man, growing less deserving of your gentleness by the day. Forgetting things, fumbling. But I love you; my sweet Essätha; and I know you love me. Of that, there’s no doubt in my mind. There will never be a doubt in my mind how much you care for me.”

“But when I took your hand and I looked into your eyes and I asked you to be mine, from that moment on it was no longer ‘should I, could I, would I’ it was an affirmative ‘I must and I will’. As your spouse, as your lover, as your eternal friend it was my duty and my privilege to care for and to love you, always.”

“You have never faltered from those promises we made that day. And although I have tried my best; with every bit inside of me, I know I have been failing you.”

Dry palms touched his face. Holding him steady, lips meeting his chin.

“You are not weak, and you are no burden,” Essätha rasped softly. “You are my Lord Amon Thomas Illiad, keeper of my heart. Nothing has changed. You are still have all of me; you still bring me all the happiness I had longed to touch all my life.”

“I am no one when I am so blinded by my wife’s ailments,” he countered bitterly.

“I do not blame you for things beyond your control.”

“Then do not blame me- but do not let me sit in the dark,” he pleaded. “If I could just- If only my mind still worked as it should-”

She collapsed fully and all at once into him in a fit of tears.

He was at a loss. Standing there; a statue of an imbecile with tears on his cheeks; wettening his beard.

“I-… I’m sorry this is… this is not the time for such talk,” his voice echoed.

He sounded old. Vastly old. And so far, far away.

“Promise you won’t forget me.”

Barely there; more a phantom’s illusion than words.

He clutched at her as the smallness of her thick voice met his ears.

“Never, my love. Never.”

A tortured sob dragged from her. So frail, so unbearably hot.

His cheek rested atop her head. A drainage bearing down upon him as tears slipped free of his eyes and into her already wet hair from sweat.

She was hurting so much, and it was all his fault.

She was sickly, and it was his absence that had allowed it to happen.

No amount of doctor visits, medications, clerics, or otherwise could mend him. He was broken. His carefully studied intellect from years of study gone. His memories washed away with the tide; returning only in short bursts and sometimes incorrectly or not fitting properly into place. His body aged; constantly humming on a pitched note of pain.

All he had left was her. His love for her. His undying devotion to her; the trust and loyalty placed in such compassionate hands holding him up and guiding him through. His spirit and resolve to be the best he could be for her.

It no longer felt like enough.

He loathed himself. Inflicting wounds upon the one who held the final fragments of who he was. The last star shining in his sky; the guiding northern light that brought him home. All of his happiness and love embraced in someone so understanding and patience of his irregular lapses in memory. The decayed mind, the slipping personality, the spectral remains of who he once was that she clung to so desperately and brought fragments of life still into what remained of him.

And here he was, asking even more of her. Requesting she hurt herself on behalf of his damaged mental state. Implying she be both his caretaker and his eyes; for he was clearly stupid and blind to allow this to have continued on to such a point of misery for her.

It was… too much to ask of her. Unfair to put so much on her shoulders already holding up so much. Arms holding together the last of him in such a delicate, gentle way. Hands keeping him afloat.

He didn’t deserve her. He was not worthy of all this consideration and faithful, never-ending care.

“Let me run you a bath,” a hoarse voice crawled forth from his depths. “A nice, cool bath.”

Between hiccuping sobs, she shook her head.

“Essätha-”

“Stairs.”

The single, muffled word riddled him with guilt. His own handicap once again kicking him down.

“Just the basin, then,” he murmured.

A vigorous shake of her head, pressed into his chest. “N-No please- please don’t leave me please don’t go- the stairs-”

“I-I won’t. I won’t.”

He was shaking. The water stored upstairs wouldn’t be very cool and not nearly as refreshing, but it would have to do.

She was hurting enough.

He didn’t want to add any further strain and stress upon her.

“Will you let me guide you to our bed, my love?” Amon inquired softly, painfully.

A small nod pressed against his torso.

Slipping into the nook of her side, he released one arm from around her. Waiting, patient as Essie gradually loosened her hold on his shirt to grab hold of it from behind instead. Much of her weight bore against him like a lean-post as she dragged out exhausted, stuffy breaths that shook her frail frame.

He gritted his teeth through the entire, agonizing walk. Feet dragging more than anything else; having to compensate for not just his own unsteadiness but hers as well. She would try regaining her composure for but a moment, and would soon after falter once more with ragged, gasping drags of air.

Pressing into his side, pressing away from him to try giving him room and strength to walk.

And he would pull her defiantly to him. Taking her instability in stride.

He could do this.

He would do this, for her.

Day 11 – part 1

To hell with these damn buttons!

Griping to himself, Amon felt with his stiff fingers along the holes of his shirt. His digits would shake as he relaxed them, making it just as impossible to jam the clasp where it belonged.

The bed creaked on the other side, making him freeze up. Clutching each side of his clothes, he turned his head (with his neck protesting in agony) to see a tangled mop of black hair pop up from the pillow.

Knotted and tangled in an unrecognizable mess, the nest covered over the face of it’s owner as they gave a huff.

He reached out instantly the moment the damp cloth still stuck to her face fell in her lap. Slipping fingers beneath the gnarled strands, he carefully knitted through sections to tuck the locks back from her face. They slid behind her ear and stuck to her face and mouth, covered in a mixture of sweat and warmed water.

She still felt somewhat feverish to the touch.

But she offered him the impression of a sweet smile as he plucked strands from her face and from her mouth tenderly, regardless.

“Did I wake you?” he murmured with shame, leaning in to press his lips over her forehead.

“I don’t know if I was really sleeping in the first place,” she admitted, reaching out for him.

Glancing down, he watched as she slowly buttoned up his shirt. One at a time, in delicate thin fingers.

His throat tightened on a reflex.

“I could have gotten it-”

“I know you could have.”

No doubt in her voice. No teasing. Completely serious in her conviction.

“I just wanted to help you,” she added once completing the final button, leaning forward to rest her forehead to his.

“You should be resting,” he disagreed in a throaty voice of anguish, kissing her cheek.

She mumbled something. Words he couldn’t distinguish even this close.

His hands followed the map of her body he knew by heart. It had changed and grown over the years in new ways, but still utterly, completely beautiful. Smoothing over the thin fabric of his own sweat-covered shirt clinging to her body; the soft material giving away all of her imperfections beneath his hands.

So gorgeous. So perfect.

Essätha gave an unexpected sensual moan in response. Immediately clamping her mouth shut, she laughed as she pulled away from his face.

“Goodness-” she giggled, finding no room to finish the thought as he pulled her back in for a sudden embrace.

Amon peppered light kisses to the underside of her throat. Each one moving a little further up; pressing lips against her chin and to the corners of her mouth and-

She stopped him there, placing a hand to his chest as she gave a breezy, faltering snicker.

“I wasn’t finished,” he complained, inching closer as he smiled, eyes upon those very kissable soft lips.

“Perhaps not the best idea, my beloved,” she reminded him, taking hold of an arm to pull it back around so she could press a kiss over his wrist.

The warmth surrounding her space reminded him of his own senselessness, and he immediately pulled free of her.

“I’ll see to getting you a doctor,” he decreed firmly.

“Mmm, yes m’lord Amon,” she breathed. “While you do that, I’m going to change… Do not wander far.”

Upon the last of her words, a trickling fear in her voice once more. Panic written in the glistening of her gaze locked upon his.

“I won’t be far,” he promised, worrying his eyebrows into a furrow.

Last night still sat heavily on his heart.

He had to do better.

He had to be better, for her.

Placing a hasty kiss to Essie’s knuckles, Amon slid off the edge of the bed. The knifing pain in his chest and fire in his bones instantly gave him awareness that he was indeed, alive and very aged now.

She murmured something; likely encouragement, but it was lost in his ears. The harsh beat of his heart in his eardrums as he hissed quietly, shuffling across the room. Every so lightly, using the door frame as a sturdy rest before he continued through the sitting area towards the far door.

Thankfully, with a hand to the wall, it didn’t take him terribly long to come across the first housemaiden. Already up and about, bustling around the house to spot him coming upon the door that lead to the gallery overlooking down upon the dining area.

“Lord Amon,” she greeted pleasantly, giving a curtsy.

What was her name again? He raked through his brain, but it didn’t come to him. Instead, he simply offered the most polite if not strained smile he could manage. Feeling it tug on his lips, pull at the wrinkles against his face.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but would you mind having the doctor… doctor…”

What was his name?

“Your physician, Lord Amon?”

“Mine? O-Or Essätha’s,” he muttered. Did they have different doctors? There was so many as of late…

There was a softened light of concern in the young woman’s eyes. He tried to pretend as though he didn’t recognize it, but he did. If it wasn’t that, it was almost always pity thrown in his face.

Except with Essätha. It was always love. Love, and tinges of fear when he had his slip-ups.

He tried not to took too deeply on that. It hurt too much.

Everything would be fine..

“Of course, Lord Amon,” the young maiden stated with professional courtesy, tilting her head forward. “Would that be all?”

Smiling faintly, he reached up to scratch his beard.

“Coffee. Black. Bring sugar for my darling, would you?”

“Certainly, Lord Amon.”

With a curt nod to the woman, he watched as she headed down the hall.

He hoped Essie was in the mood for something sweet in her coffee today. Even if she wasn’t, he had a feeling her eyes would still light up just the same. Adoring him; grateful for all these little things he still remembered. It always brightened her features when he recalled things with ease. So fondly his memories of her painting in his thoughts through elegant strokes of a brush that defined her every charm and signature.

Satisfied with himself, Amon carefully turned back for the bedroom. Shuffling along on with care on the floor, making his way through the lounge area.

Pausing, he picked up a few ledgers lying on the edge of the desk. Flipping through a few; finding the wonderful scrawling of his love’s hand placed upon some. Notes added to others in the margins of with a steady hand. Strokes of ink curling so wonderfully.

What would he do without her?

A scoff at the very thought. He couldn’t handle this house, all these finances without her. The words began to blur into nonsense before his eyes. Numbers made no sense; who was he paying, for what reason, what did that name mean, when did this request need finalizing.

She handled everything. The house, the maids, the work, him…

With a heavy sigh of guilt, he went to place the documents neatly back on the table.

A sharp curse from the other room.

It was followed by a crack, and sudden thud.

Thoroughly startled, he dropped the paperwork and turned swiftly. The rush of wind sent some reports scattering in the air and to the floor.

His body was unprepared for the range of motion and haste he pushed it through.

Dragging in a sharp gasp, he staggered. If not for the quick grip of his hand to the edge of the desk, he would have taken a fall for sure.

Pain stabbed through him. Starting in his hip, and blazing down into his leg and through his side.

“Essätha?”

No answer.

“Essätha, my darling?” Panicked this time, riddled with worry.

Silence.

He didn’t want to pull the card, he didn’t want to-

“My dear, could you… could you come help me?”

With a flinch; both from gritting pain and humiliation, he waited.

She did not come to him.

Grabbing the edge of the desk firmly, Amon worked his way around it. Finding the wall to lean against; shoulder and all, he shifted his weight forward. Aware of the way his leg was nearly limp with pain; refusing to take even the bare minimum of his size as it seized and gave with each step. Causing him to stumble; causing him to cry out hoarsely in pain.

He grabbed the edge of the door frame and pulled. Yanking himself forward; forcing his back to the structure. Each breath a harsh pant. His chest falling and rising quickly as perspiration dotted his neck and face.

His blood ran cold as ice despite this.

Leg forgotten, he lunged forward.

It buckled beneath his weight; sending him to the floor.

Growling with frustration, his knees rapidly swelling with bruises, Amon crawled the remaining distance over. An action once that would have been beyond mortifying now not even a second thought to his primary objective in front of him.

Oh Pelor, no.

No no no- this was his fault; this was all his fault he’d left her alone! She’d told him; asked of him only not to be left alone and what had he done! What had he done!

“My darling?” he cooed, his voice cracking as he reached for her.

Blood. Blood on the corner of the dresser; blood clotting in her hair in a dark, crimson flood. Collecting on the floor; running over her temple and down her cheek.

“Essätha my love.”

His voice broke a hundred different ways in only a few syllables.

Shaking vigorously, he ran a hand gingerly over her pale complexion and sweaty face.

In a knee-jerk reaction, he pulled away.

She was burning like fire.

“No no no no no no-”

Whimpering, his lips shaking, he looked around the room. Was- was there still health potions still stashed somewhere around here? Did he still have any of them around? Would they still be good-

She gasped for air, her breath coming out dry and wheezy.

He tried to stand. He had to get help; he had to get her off the floor, he had to look for something or someone to help her-

His legs slipped, and he crashed back down on his purple hued knees beneath thick trousers.

“Not now, please!” he begged, staring down with horror as the blood began to puddle on the floor.

He tried again. Failed; feet refusing to even move into the place his mind asked of him.

“Oh Pelor, someone help her please!” he cried out.

He was pathetic.

He could do nothing for her.

He couldn’t even do anything for himself.

She’d gotten hurt, and it was all his fault.

This was all his fault. He hadn’t been there. He wasn’t there for her. She wasn’t feeling well and he had just left her alone. She asked him not to leave her alone; she had been so frightened of him leaving her alone-

Falling to his angry, swollen hip throbbing with agony, he reached for her.

“Please! Someone!”

A raspy demand. A howling echo of pain and fear.

Shoes came flying through the sitting area moments later. A heavy, breathless voice before they even entered the room called out: “Lord Amon-?”

The maiden nearly tripped upon herself as she slammed into the room.

Upon his thigh, he gingerly rested Essätha’s head. His shirt half removed; buttons popped across the floor as he balled it up to press to her head wound.

His eyes shot up to the woman as she entered in a rush. The whites of his eyes now red through his gaze as he exhaled in a rush; his nose too stuffy to breathe through.

“Please-”

His voice broke. Lips shaking; the taste of his tears upon them.

A close-mouthed gasp escaped the maid. She pressed a hand to her throat, and rushed forward suddenly to kneel at his side.

Her fingers pressed to Essie’s throat as he leaned forward, listening to her raspy gasps.

“Her pulse seems strong, but very fast,” the young lady observed, meeting his gaze.

“Help her,” he pleaded, flickering his gaze back down to his shirt growing redder by the second against her head.

“Help her; help her please do something-”

His chest shook helplessly. The sound of her ragged gasps of air so unnatural. He knew he’d not heard such a sickly, horrendous sound… Not since-

On reaction, he snarled at the woman as she tried to wrap her arms around his Essätha.

“Lord Amon, we should get her off the floor,” the young lady remarked with fearful, wide eyes.

Yes… yes of course- she was right-

A groan of turmoil, his legs refusing to work.

“Let me go get more help,” the housemaid murmured, getting to her feet.

“Hurry.”

The woman was out of the door and racing through the lounge in seconds. Without hesitation, without delay.

Unable to take his eyes off of his darling, Amon hummed with encouragement. His tears, meanwhile, dripped down on the bloody shirt pressed firmly over her head.

“I’m so sorry my dear. I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you yet again.”

“Please forgive me,” he asked, shoulders rising and falling violently as a sob broke through him.

“Everything will be alright, love, I’m here. I’m here. I’ll take care of you I promise; I swear.”

Day 11 – part 2

There were doctors and clerics standing all around, making the room claustrophobic. All of them crowding around the bed. Huddled tightly together; a mass of professional coats and robes.

The bloody gash upon Essätha’s head was, thankfully, mended. She did not rouse from unconsciousness, however. No gentle shakes, no softly murmured honeyed words, no curious prods of the doctors of people shining lights in her eyes gave her reason to wake.

It made his skin crawl.

Like a wounded animal, he dared to snap at anyone who thought to remove him from the bedside.

Thus, the doctors were forced to try checking on his elevated legs between his furious rampages.

“Get your hands off of me-!”

“Lord Amon, we need to secure your position so that a cleric can try mending your hip bone. It’s fractured, and it won’t heal properly if you don’t let us work-”

“I didn’t call you here to take care of me! I called you all here to take care of her!”

He waved a hand to the stunning woman laboring for breath at his side.

“Lord Amon,” the doctor sighed, “Be reasonable. We’re only trying to help. It’s our duty to make sure-”

“You need to make sure she’s okay,” Amon rasped, taking hold of the man’s arm in a powerful grip as he worked his jaw.

“She needs to be okay.”

The doctor choked, trying to pull free his arm as the Briarton Lord dug his fingertips into flesh with an impressive grasp. Yellow-tinged bruises were already beginning to form upon the doctor’s skin.

“We can give him some drugs,” another doctor murmured from the safety behind others. “Knock him out; it’ll make the whole process easier-”

“You will do no such thing!” a housemaiden cut in sharply on his behalf, her face red with aggravation.

Faces in the room stared to the young woman. She appeared less confident, and more frazzled beneath all the sudden attention.

“He’s scared for his wife,” she stressed. “Can none of you see that?”

The room was silent. A grunt escaped Amon, grateful to the young woman who’s name he didn’t recall as she pushed past a pair of individuals to come beside the bed.

Her voice was one of conviction as she spoke to him: “Lord Amon, it is not my place to speak on Lady Essätha’s behalf and I apologize, but she would be very distraught knowing you were refusing treatment. Please, let these men and women help you.”

It was a low, wounding blow to his stubborn pride.

Mute, he only gave a nod.

He was too numb, filled to the very brim with shame to do anything else.

They were careful as they handled him. Like a fragile doll. But none were quite as tender and gentle as Essätha as they readjusted his posture and shifted the angle of his body. Poking and prodding; revealing the various bruises on his hips and legs as they exposed him by removing articles of clothing to better assess their patient.

It was humiliating.

Hopeless, he held to Essie’s hand the entire time. Comforting himself partly; the other half of him hoping that whatever strength remained in his fingers would awaken her back to reality. Bring her out of her comatose state, and back to him.

She could have his strength. She could have all of what was left of him.

Murmured incantations; more like hymns, were breathed by a pair of clerics as they pressed her hands lightly near his bruised, exposed skin.

Some of the stabbing pain began to free itself from his aged frame.

Then, more pain still ebbed away as the duo stepped away for two more to step up and continue on with another series of chanted words to their gods. Languages he didn’t know; words that held no meaning to him.

As these two stepped back, he found his weary voice of open fear again.

“And my Essätha?”

“We’ve done all we can for her, Lord Amon,” someone spoke up. “She’s… just going to need some time to rest.”

The darkness of his eyes bore into the man speaking. Slowly, forfeiting like a lesser animal to an alpha, the man turned his gaze away first to swallow nervously.

“What is wrong with my wife?”

The softness of his voice was a ploy, and they all knew it. Smelled the anger around him; the hurt, the fear.

“What is wrong with my wife?!” he repeated in a snarl, trying to push himself off from the bed.

“Lay back-”

“Lord Amon, please-”

“You’re going to hurt yourself-”

Aggravated, he tried to push away all the various arms and hands that encouraged him back into the bed.

Tearing his gaze from the swarm of people, Amon glimpsed over with alarm as the arm pressed against his side shook.

Convulsions raked down Essätha’s limp form. It illustrated her body in a way that was not meant to contort as a grating, jarring exhale raggedly fell from her lips.

Amon grabbed for her instantly. The burn of her body unfelt; the daggers of pain in his own forgotten.

She shook uncontrollably against his chest. Each breath gasping and faint. Drawing in oxygen through shallow rises of her chest and letting it out in suffering, heaving wheezes.

Someone’s hand reached out as though to touch her, and he swatted it away with a growl. Vision wobbling; finding it difficult to differentiate friend from foe.

“Careful, careful-!” someone nervously piped up.

He didn’t know whom this new voice was telling to be careful; him or the one who reached for him.

The shakes and shivers knotting in her muscles and seizing her up in cramping, unnatural forms slowly disappeared. All but the lightest quivers here and there; her breath labored as the movement behind her eyelids danced.

They were both covered in sweat.

His face was drenched in it. Dripping from his eyes even; strangely.

“What was that?” Amon muttered with quiet brokenness. “What just happened, why was she-”

“Those would be the manifestations of her illness,” an uneasy voice to his left reported. “One… we fear we have an inkling’s knowledge to; if all assumptions are correct.”

“It’s been dubbed the Graveshadow’s Disease. Samples would need to be taken and a better evaluation performed to confirm this; but it’s a sickness inflicted on generations of children born with inherited Shadowplane magic. The disorder has wiped out many family lines over the years as it only seems to pass from mother to child. It’s not infectious to anyone in this room.”

The concern that whatever was ailing his beautiful wife might drag him in didn’t even touch his thoughts. If he grew just as sickly, he wouldn’t care. It would not deter him from her side. All but too concerned for that sweat-drenched face of ethereal grace as her lips trembled and occasionally moved into wordless expressions and hitched gasps of pain.

“It… has no recovery. The mortality rate is…”

His eyes shot over to the woman who dared join in the conversation, with words that were bold-faced lies in his ears.

“She will be fine!” he threatened, pushing himself up further. “She will recover. None of you know her; none of you know the strength in this beautiful woman-”

A faint whimper captured his attention, and his words tapered off. Slipping his arms around her tighter, he cradled Essätha’s sweltering physique against his side protectively.

Clearing their throat, another medic spoke up: “The symptoms don’t positively id the problem. We… We could still be wrong.”

“What else could it be?” Amon asked numbly.

Uncomfortable glances sorted around the room, and back to him.

“It would be Filth Fever,” someone spoke quietly. “Weaver’s Fever, which affects magically-inclined folks, or Shiver’s disease.”

“It could be something non-lethal; something we’re missing” another medic cut in quietly, but there was… doubt in her voice.

The woman was quick to step back behind someone as Amon’s blazing eyes sought her out in the crowd.

“You dare-”

“There are alternatives, nothing is set in stone yet!” a cleric jumped in, a rush of smoke emitting from their draconian nostrils nervously.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Amon met some of the eyes looking upon him. Most turning away; intimidated or simply too pitying to look upon him. His arms holding his wife’s body with the utmost care against himself as she lay like a boneless silhouette in his grasp, gasping for air.

“What makes you so sure it’s-”

What had they called it? Damn his brain; why would it not function for him when he needed it the most!

“Graveshadow’s,” someone offered.

A singlular, thick grunt of agreement pressed out of Amon’s chest in answer. Moving his hand, brushing strands of hair delicately and shakily from her enchanting face slick and ashen with sickness.

“Her magic is a characteristic property of where she inherited it,” a medic stated.

“The ailment’s known to commonly be associated with Graveshadow’s is… present. Fevers, aches, body pains, headaches would all occur at some point or another. Sometimes nausea. A case-by-case basis of pus-like blisters forming on areas of the body. The… The body starts rejecting it’s hereditary magic. It begins to form a rot, on the inside of the victim. It festers; usually notably affecting someone for the majority of their life but becoming most obvious in the twenties or thirties. It begins in less prominent organs most often before attacking the more vital regions of the body; the heart, the lungs, the liver, and so on.”

“It may not be this at all, however,” a soft-spoken man added in. “I’ve never heard of such late signs progressively taking over a patient. Most cases involve years of the disease setting in.”

“Exactly,” another stated with relief. “You would have noticed the omens sooner than this, Lord Amon. It could be something else entirely.”

He would have noticed the signs.

Oh Pelor, what a goddamn useless cur he was!

How long had she been suffering these sweats, the outbreaks of headaches, the sudden dizzy spells?

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t remember.

No- no he was doing it again he was faltering and it was at her expense.

He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t do it again he had to be strong he had to focus.

Her life depended on it.

Her life in the balance, hanging by threads of doubt by everyone in the room.

Without a shred of doubt in his mind, he knew this- Grab… Gravel… Grading? Degrading?

Tears swam in his eyes with frustration like a child.

He couldn’t even remember what the fucking illness was called anymore. Only spoken seconds ago; already out of his mangled brain and tumbling somewhere in the black hole of his mind.

She’d been so strong and enduring for him. Quietly letting this pain slip beneath the cracks. Not to worry him; not to put added pressure on his fading thoughts.

It was eating at her, this decay. Ravenous on her beauty; trying to devour all the good and purity in the world through her.

How could she contract such a terrible fate? What would-

“My mother was a saint,” she had said with sadness in her voice. “I just wish she’d had more time… It took her, all at once. She didn’t show it to me, whatever it was. Not until her last days. Always putting on a brave, smiling face…”

They both knew.

The information had been sitting before them, all this time. Without their knowledge; without the thought to check or ask or inquire. No imploring questions; no thought to seek the truth of the matter.

And him; her husband, spotting none of her decline until she was succumbing to it’s horrors. Dragging her down, threatening to tear her from his grasp.

No. No, he would not allow that.

This illness would not take. Not his beautiful Essätha. Not his wife; not his closest confident, not the sun in her eyes that blazed through him and brought warmth and happiness back into his dead world. Not this woman, so courageous and brave; never bending or cracking no matter how much the world tried to break her.

It was one more fight.

They could do one more fight. The battlefield was different; just as the one in his aging mind, but they could do it.

She could get through this. His everything and more; so powerful and spunky and brave in every way.

“We need to find a cure,” Amon managed, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Lord Amon-”

He clutched to the quivering shape of his wife with resolve, stealing only a glimpse around the room.

“We are going to find a cure!” he snapped; tone wavering in and out.

“Send messengers and pigeons and ravens- I don’t give a damn what you have to say- just get people here. The greatest minds; scientists, scholars, physicians, alchemists, mages, clerics- anyone in a medical field, I don’t care what it is. They will be reimbursed for their time at a cost sum of their choosing.”

“Get in contact with-”

Faces. Faces without names.

He faltered.

“The- my companions-”

He struggled. Willing his damaged brain to work; trying to find the answers through a hazy buzz of exhaustion and fear.

Graveshadow’s Disease. Ah- yes! That was what it was called! But that wasn’t what he was looking for, what was it he was looking for…

“We can do that, Lord Amon,” a softened, feminine voice from one of the housemaids answered in knowing quiet.

“Do what?” he muttered, glancing only so briefly to see the tortured face of the young miss.

“… We’ll see to it that help is called,” another maiden slowly reminded him. “We’ll send the carriers straight away, Lord Amon.”

He’d… asked for carriers?

His eyes glanced down to Essätha.

Ah, y-yes. He… had.

All of the youthful young ladies that helped to upkeep the manor slipped out through the doors. Some needing to squeeze through the throng of individuals with apologetic whispers as they went.

Tiredly and with guilt eating at him, Amon leaned forward. His chest shaking, hands cupping each of those delicate hollowed cheeks in a tender grip. Caressing the sheen of sweat from her face as drops of tears fell from his face, landing upon her nose and forehead.

“It’s okay, my love,” he breathed, brushing his lips over hers.

Someone cleared their throat awkwardly.

Casting a venomous look to the crowd, the Illiad heir released a furious hiss through his teeth as they clenched firmly together.

“Leave us at once!” he shouted in a hoarse rasp.

Most gave a frightful jump at the harsh, bitterness of his voice. No longer sounding tired and aged, but filled with fury and rage. A carrying, strong voice of a man most didn’t believe existed anymore behind the fragile state of his aged appearance. Sunken in tired eyes; shadows and bags beneath them, dark spots and white hair with only remnants of gray-ish black still in his beard.

He looked much a shadow of his former self in some ways.

But in that moment, there was no denying he was Lord Amon; ruler over the Emerald Expanse, a force of nature all his own.

Fleeing the room in large flocks, only the most brave; or perhaps more stupid, lingered to gather supplies or stare with dumbfounded nervous energy.

“We’ll be back to conduct further tests and examinations later.”

Amon shot the speaker a despising sneer.

“Find out about this forsaken illness,” he growled. “I want every letter, every script, every mention of it ever breathed and written down in this room by tomorrow’s first light.”

Thoroughly spooked like frightened prey, the remaining individuals gave hasty, nervous murmurs he didn’t bother to make out as they fled. The thunder of boots moving into the lounge area and for most, quickly from there into the hall.

Lying on his painfully aching healed hip; still bruised and throbbing, Amon reached over the side of the bed to grab a damp cloth sitting in a bowl of ice water on the nightstand. Mostly dripping the chilled liquid on himself, the blankets, and the floor; he leaned over to rub the soothing coolness into Essätha’s skin. Washing the blots of sweat away. Wiping down her forehead, over her cheeks, against her mouth.

He leaned back to rinse the warmed cloth out with more cool water, and began drawing circles with it over her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt.

“I’m here for you, my love,” he encouraged in a soft coo, brushing a kiss over her forehead as more sweat began to bead up upon it. “You’re a strong, beautiful woman my Essätha and I know you can get through this. I believe in you. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

“I promise you.”

Day 12

“This is all of it?”

“Yes, Lord Amon.”

A frown appeared on his face with disbelief as he looked over the books and carefully folded pieces of paper.

“This can’t be all there is,” he muttered, staring up helplessly at the doctor and maiden’s face with dawning horror.

They could only stare at him in turn. The doctor unflinching and passive; the young lady a puffy-faced, red-eyed, broken complexion.

“Find me more,” he growled, slamming one of the books down on top of another. “There has to be more!”

His snarls of aggravation ripped through his throat, startling the pair as they hurried for the door.

The young lady’s eyes met his as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Catching her attention; catching the unshed tears glistening in her eyes as she stiffly slipped out of the room to leave the entrance slightly ajar in case he called for anything.

Slowly, he dragged a heavy sigh gruffly from his chest.

His gaze shifted over. Grazing over the thin sheet clinging to her sweaty hips and waist. Wrapping itself around her, with one arm thrown over the pillow and the other low; held in his rough hand.

Such harsh, pained little gasps escaped her.

What he would give to exchange them for his own. A replacement not perfect, but better than this.

Anything was better than this. Watching her unwakening face. Feeling her skipping pulse in her wrist. The heat that never let up and the unexpected quakes that shook the bed and kept him both from work and from rest.

Not that he expected rest. When it did try, however, to claim his old eyelids to fall he would find himself barely in a state of dreaming when something startled him. Reality setting in; ashamed he would allow himself to relax.

She was getting no rest. He could tell by the defining darkness that grew more and more by the hours beneath her eyes.

If she was getting no rest, then he shouldn’t either.

This was all his fault.

If only he’d caught this sooner. If only he’d been there; if only he’d noticed; remembered, spoke up, taken better care of her. Loved her as gently as she did him. Nurtured her as she should have been instead of depending so much on her. Allowing this to creep up upon her unnoticed by him. Working her spirit and health to the ground.

With numbed fingertips, he flipped open one of the notes laying atop the stack of documents and books.

Graveshadow’s Disease.

Ah, that was its name.

Just a name, nothing more.

Another villain to be vanquished.

Essätha wheezed beside him. Her arms straining; trying to pull away from him as she rocked to her left, and then to her right. A stiff back rising up from the bed as she gasped for oxygen.

In soothing murmurs, he reached for her. Murmured so softly; so gently on his chapped lips as he pulled her into him. Ignoring the way his legs burned and ached, settled atop pillows that he mostly managed to tug his appendages off of as he moved to follow her.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, please- please relax. Relax for me darling- please- please- please-”

A break fragmented his voice. A mirror into exactly what his heart felt like, seeing her struggle so. On such a simple, thoughtless task such as breathing.

When he finally managed to grapple his arms around her, laying on his side, he pulled her into his chest. Her body rigid; stretching out and then trying to curl in with simultaneous jerks and twitches. Spasms of muscles moving. Perspiration beginning to form in an all-over body sweat once again.

His lips pressed to her hot forehead, murmuring what he believed to be the words the clerics used. His memory was a bit fuzzy, but it sounded right.

Deep down, he knew it would do nothing for her.

Yet… she stilled. Slumping into his arms; her chest weakly, shakily moving in uneven intervals.

He didn’t dare question it. Divine intervention or a streak of luck; he was just glad to see her stop struggling.

“Thank you,” he lamented. To her, to any gods there might be listening and watching over her. A thousand gratitude’s would not be enough.

Anything but the struggle.

Anything but the agony stitched on her elegant features.

He pressed a firm kiss to either of her cheeks, stroking the tangled mess of dark hair from her face.

Everything was going to be fine.

She would be fine.

Day 15

Exhaustion pulled at him. He would not allow himself to embrace it. Willing himself awake; pinching at his skin and drinking his mug of coffee even as he trembled. Even as the hot beverage would slosh out and he’d curse as it would burn and leave red marks against his chest and stain his shirt.

In pausing moments, he would rest his head against her torso. Listening. Feeling the way her chest heaved in a way that his own echoed. Unnatural lengths of silence; even worse spells of quick gusts of breath never fully satisfying her. Dragging them in, dragging them out in bursts as her temperature skyrocketed.

They were both so tired.

Her struggles never quite allowing her either awareness nor sleep. Tossing and turning; her fingers clutching loosely to fresh sheets.

With dedication, with love; with all the loyalty he held for this stunning woman who enriched and enlightened, he solely took the responsibility with his shaky hands to wash and change her out of yet another day’s clothes.

He’d hoped his own would soothe her. It brought a sad, not fully there smile to his face as he’d recall so fondly her teasing. Mocking him in apparel much too large for her size; but insisting even as his pants would fall off her or his shirt ran low to her knees and fell more like a curtain than clothes that she enjoyed the feeling. Something about… something about how it always felt like he was holding her. Something about the smell of his clothes and how it comforted her.

They tried anything. Everything. Resulting to spoon-fed soup and drops of water. Praying to hydrate her as the fevers burned through her and dispersed, only to return within fractions of a minute later. Coming and going like a thief, stealing her will. Making her more and more feeble and fragile.

He stroked and dabbed at her face with a replenished bowl of ice water. Caressing the side of her face with the material stretched over his palm. Fearful his own cursed touch might bring another fever or bounty of twitching, muttering rolls of pain sweeping over her as she’d whine and clench her teeth. Tossing and turning, coughing weakly.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

The quiet stretched on, as it always did.

“Tell me what to do, my dear, and I’ll do it.”

Silence.

“I’ll do it all- I’ll do anything. Anything at all for you.”

When she gave him no answer, he leaned in to brush his mouth against her forehead. Pressing small, equally tender kisses along the side of her face, to her temples. His hands; still holding the cloth, stroking sentimental letters against her neck. Stringing together into words; phrases of his love for her as his lips trailed over the bridge of her nose and against her upper lip and over cheeks to her chin.

He stopped himself short of her lips. Slightly parted.

She gave a faint gasp.

“What do you want?” he pleaded. “What can I get you- what do you need?”

Her face turned away from him. Fingers gripping; weakly digging in to his palm.

“I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe with me.”

He leaned away from her, taking hold of that delicate hand to press a kiss upon her fingers. The motion of his other hand never slowing; never ceasing in his task to massage the cool damp cloth against warm flesh as his vision went hazy.

Blinking his misty eyes, droplets of tears fell on Essätha’s face.

He dabbed them off slowly as even more of the unreasonable drops sprang forth to land on her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth, her chin, her forehead. All sliding over her features, collecting into her sweat.

“You’ll be better soon,” he choked.

“I promise.”

Day 19

Amon glimpsed over at Essätha as her fingers squeezed against his through their interlocked digits.

His mouth too parched to form words, a bare grunt shook his chest. Reaching across, his eyes flickered from her to the nightstand as he took the glass of water sitting nearby. Clutching it firmly this time, recalling not how many but vividly that he had dropped more than one glass on the floor recently.

Slowly, he drank from the cup before sliding it back on the turntable.

With another longing stare, he took in her complexion.

So ravishing. Beneath the perspiration, the color of her sepia skin now pale and lacking in pigment and depth was still lovely. Just as stunning as her thinned mouth; the silver kissed strands of midnight hair. Every freckle and dimple a spot he admired. Craved to touch, desired to kiss.

She was sweaty and she was unkept, and she still stole away his breath to look upon. The most captivating woman he’d ever seen. The most appealing and stunning of features; the shape of her hands fitting so nicely against his, the arches and curves still so enticing even as he worryingly watched the leanness grow rapidly.

She was a wordless beauty. Unmatched, unsurpassed.

He pulled her hand up to his mouth to press his upon it. Snaking his mouth over skin; trailing lips against her as he found her pulse and held a kiss there. Enduring her heat; lingering in a lasting gesture of softness and adoration.

The shifting of her eyelids stilled, and her lashes lifted.

Oh, Pelor, his Essätha! His Essätha; his darling Essätha and those eyes! Those eyes the color of toffee just barely, just barely visible as she blinked in mere slits to take in the ceiling from above.

Then to take in his face, as Amon leaned over her with breathless anticipation.

“Essie?”

Hopeful. His gaze pleading.

A breath escaped her, just as shaky as usual.

“Amon?”

Dry. Wheezing. A rasp of faded whispers.

It was stupid and it was thoughtless, but he cupped her chin with his free hand and kissed her sallow cheeks and then her quivering lips eagerly.

Her body shook beneath him. A weak cough pressed to his face.

Damn him and his foolishness.

He moved to pull away, finding her attempting to sit up and catch him.

Her strength failed her however, and she fell back into the mattress.

“Oh, my darling,” he mumbled, anxiously leaning in to press kisses along the shape of her nose.

His eyes ventured across to the side table. Taking hold of the cup half full, Amon snatched it up. Briefly, releasing her hand to aid his propping up his wife’s head so she could take a drink.

His hand had never felt so firm and steady. Careful not to allow a single drop to drip past as she polished off the beverage with the slightest incremental tilts of his wrist so not to drown her.

A shaky sigh drew from her lips; speaking faintly as he went to place the glass on the table: “What’s going on?”

“You’re sick my love, but I’m taking care of you.”

His hand held firmly to hers in an affirmation to his vow as he brushed his mouth to hers, cradling her face in one hand.

“You’ll feel better, soon.”

A hiss of pain drew through her teeth.

Ashamed of himself for pushing upon her, Amon leaned his weight from her side. Gently still, his fingers rubbing away the beads of sweat on her face.

“Everything hurts.”

A barely-there whisper.

Tears began to shine in those caramel eyes. Staring to him, so haunted with pain.

“Let me hail a doctor-”

The words faltered with confusion in his mouth as she reached for him. Taking in the written features of her face. Pain. Sadness. Concern. So many layers of careful consideration and worry as her trembling fingers brushed snow-white hairs from his forehead.

“You look so tired,” she acknowledged faintly; voice cracking. “You need… to sleep.”

His heart filled with a sharp ache.

“Don’t worry about me, my beautiful Essätha. Let me worry about you. Focus your attention on healing.”

“Sleep with me,” she insisted. “Lay back.”

“Essätha I- I can’t-”

“Please.”

He groaned.

“Please m’lord-”

It was impossible to say no to that voice. To those teary-eyed brown eyes. To the carved and sketched lines of affection written upon such a tired, wonderful face. Such a gorgeous, unearthly splendor.

He laid back until his body was flush with the bed. Her feverish frame pressed closer as their limbs shifted, until she placed her face against his chest and he was holding her side. His aged fingers running through matted hair, trying to detangle some of the knots that weaved in and out.

Goosebumps played out against his skin as she touched him. Such soft, delicate fingertips drawing circles against his hip. Drawing against the stinging pain that never seemed to leave him there.

“You’re bruised,” she gasped faintly, peering down at skin as she pulled at his shirt.

“I’m fine.”

“My beloved, what happened?”

He swallowed. A memory he couldn’t wipe away on the forefront of his thoughts. Unable to unsee the broken shape of his wife sprawled out on the floor, with blood trickling down her features. Helpless to her.

Of all the damn things he could not forget, why must that one persist?

“You need a cold compress,” Essätha muttered, more to herself than him.

Her weight shifted, rocking to the left as though to sit up.

A sharp whine drifted past her lips.

Exhaling roughly compared to her softened, short gasps, Amon reached over to pull her back. Smothering her against his chest as he rolled over to take hold of her. The weak, frailness of her thin body more starkly obvious to him than ever as he could pick out the shape of bones beneath her clammy skin.

He felt sick.

She shuddered all over, trying to pull away from him. When that didn’t work she bowed; back curving away as she whimpered and flung herself weakly around.

An elbow to his ribs. A hand to his chest. The heel of her feet kicking at his shin.

Amon held her, gently, through her struggles. Cooing softly; trying to reassure as his heart tore to pieces.

Quick, shallow, painful gasps. Dragging air in. A wobbly, hollow cry of agony that fired straight through him.

Never had he felt a sharper torment. One that was not his own, but he would drink it from her if only he could. Pelor, he would take it all. He would take her suffering and be grateful; never having to wick sweat off her pretty face again; never having to see her throw herself around like a limp doll trying to find comfort at any angle and only wrestling with herself in the process.

Tears swam in his vision as she sobbed. Loudly. Openly. Directly into his chest as she flipped partly on atop him as he clutched her.

This beautiful, cherished woman who hardly ever allowed herself to shed a tear, let alone be seen bawling.

Squeezing the burning liquid from his eyes, Amon rocked them gently back and forth. So flimsy her body; feebly trying to convulse but having none of the strength to do so. Instead, weakly jerking and twitching as Essie sucked in air desperately.

“Please, let her rest,” he pleaded to the unknown. “Give her peace. Please. Please. Please.”

It did not come.

He could only lay there and hold her. Praying; whispering sweet nothings, asking whatever gods there may be to help her.

There was nothing he could do.

This, the cruelest punishment of all in the whole, entirety of his life. Not the pain he’d lived with for years after murdering Fontane. Not the claw marks on his chest. Not the bruises, the welts, the infections and blades that cut him; not the magic that scorched and blasted him. Not the years of traveled hardship and not even the fading of himself; his mind, knowing he was less than half of who he once was; even if that once-was was hardly a worthy man to begin with.

No. This was his true punishment.

To love so deeply, so completely, with all of him. Everything in him. Every tiny bit; from the harsh edges, the coarse hands, the broken pieces to the gentle gaze of his eyes; the gentleness he could still find inside himself. Once so far away; almost withered to dust, until she came.

To love; feeling no pain at all, and have to suffer watching it all unfold on that sweet love. To sit and watch her eyes roll back; feel the burning fire of her silken skin now slick and wet and hear her cry out as the smell of sweat barely registered in his clogged throat and nose. To taste the salt of her tears and her flesh as he could only just kiss her sweetly upon her face and hold her to him. To hear those grating, unnatural, growling gasps for oxygen and the putter of her heart fade and rise with her breathes.

He would give up everything to take away her pain.

But no matter how much he begged for it to be gone; for it to be transferred on to him instead, nothing silenced her hoarse, wretched cries as she wept weakly into his chest for what seemed like an eternity, before exhaustion claimed them both. All but for a spell, before he would wake to her weak shaking frame and burning fever once again. So far away from him; in another realm, with wordless shapes of her lips moving.

No gods would help her. No one seemed capable of saving her.

But he would.

He would protect her; his fondest love and closest friend. His hands tightened with tenacity around her.

He would see to it, for her.

Day 21

It was raining outside. The windows left ajar, letting the coolness seep into the stuffy room and washing out the stale air of sweat with it.

Upon the edge of the bed sat a cleric. Words spun from her mouth in a chorus of hums and pretty unrecognizable tones. Even with the overcast sky outside, there was a glow in the room cast from the strange woman. It washed over her chocolate brown skin; radiating from golden strands of white-light upon Essätha’s chest where she barely rested her fingertips.

From the reaction upon Essie’s face, it appeared to be doing little to nothing for her. Still lost in the fog of pain. Her eyes moving behind her eyelids, a few unsteady gasps on pale lips as she wrung the sheets.

He hated being away from her. Even just a few inches felt like far too much, and these feet were torture.

But he had work to do.

Four doctors; three ladies to a gentleman, closely observed the healing preacher’s work. Two were scrawling out notes. Another occasionally leaned over to murmur changes in appearance, temperature, and so forth. The fourth was busily taking samples; stealing a few strands of hair, bloodletting from a small incision to collect, scrapping tissue of flaky skin and sweat off of various areas, and so on.

A man off in the other room came in. He scaled a few measurements and left abruptly to the room over. Murmuring softly to keep figures in his head, the man pressed by a robbed figure that moved in after him.

The shawl covered witch carried an astonishing array of herbs in a woven basket. She scooted carefully around those already hovering on one side of the bed with her bundle to nestle the a wrapped bundle beneath Essie’s neck.

No one dared step between the other side of the bed, though there was plenty of space.

Doing so was like moving between a pair of wolves. A great, disastrous sin committed only once by one of the scientists who no longer was allowed into the house. Amon’s fury had been too great; his mind too unraveled to think as he moved to protect. Unable to see her face. Only seeing the angular frame of a man, between him and his wife, and it was all it took for him to snap into a rage most unsettling and befitting of his once more sensible calm nature.

He was strung tight. A child’s toy wound to the point of straining; on the edge of breaking.

The chair he sat in was immensely uncomfortable on his back and rear, so he shifted in hopes of elevating some of the agony. It did not. Thus, he grumbled, trying to place focus back on the table in front of him and the two alchemists moving between his workdesk pressed near the bed and theirs, only feet away.

His vision blurred in and out of focus tiredly. Trying to absorb the words in front of him in the book, but finding it increasingly hard to do so. Had he added the mandrake root? A glimpse into the softly boiling concoction made it impossible to remember. It had been so long since he had tried brewing anything, and his wayward mind wouldn’t concentrate for more than a finite second…

Amon looked over to stunning figure struggling in the sheets.

Like the beacon of radiant light she was, she brought him home again. A sense of peace as the shores came into view, hugging to the contour of her silhouette and bringing him to steady ground.

He’d added the mandrake root, of course. He needed to dilute it with the purified water now, that was it.

A gruff noise in his chest, and he tore his eyes from Essätha. It was worse to do so. Even when it pained him to see her so weak and fragile, it was disorienting. Turning him from man to hollow shell in seconds.

His liver spotted hands, wrinkled with time, sought out the jug of water on the far side of the work desk. The angle was terrible on his back as he refused to stand. Straining, a ripping pain scorching into his side-

He jerked forward, feeling the sear of the fire briefly sweep across his hand from the burner.

Cursing, Amon jerked his hand back.

He’d hardly managed to sit back when the cleric was part of the way around the bed, and the alchemists moving to his side.

“I’m fine-”

“It’ll only take a second,” the cleric disagreed. “Hold still, Lord Amon.”

Mumbling, he reached up to rub the edge of his palm into his face. His fingers scratched along his scraggly beard in desperate need of a trim as the healer took hold of his wrist.

The handful of faces in the room watched him. The creeping tiredness in his eyes; the way he wavered where he sat.

A delightful memory steeped in his thoughts. Soft chest pressed to his. The concentration in those eyes he adored. Nurturing him; shaving his face with elegantly gentle strokes. She never smiled; not until she finished. Always so focused, careful not to nick him. So kind and thoughtful, his beautiful Essätha…

He was shaken back to reality, grunting.

The burner to his rapidly boiling elixir was turned down by one of the alchemists. The other alchemist was adding in the cleansed water to his potion.

No, it wasn’t them. It was one of the housemaids shaking him.

When did she get there? A glimpse, and he spotted the cleric already situating themselves on the other side of the bed once again.

“Lord Amon,” the woman spoke carefully. “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“My lord, I… I must insist. You are practically asleep as you are. Please; everyone could use some time to reflect on their work. Let them continue later. The cleric is spent, the rest have most of the experiments and novels worth of notes to share with scholars and collect over the books. The decline in your health would not add to the situation; it only hinders you and Lady Essätha.”

“She needs you, my lord,” the young maiden stated carefully. “Should you let your wellness decline, it would trouble her greatly. Go; rest, slumber for a while. Everyone is doing their best, but their best can not be achieved if they’re stressed and tired.”

Fleeting glimpses around the room, and he could clearly see the bags beneath the eyes of his hired hands. The circles of black. The eyelids dragged partially down.

He too, was tired.

And the empty space on the bed; his spot on the bed, looked increasingly comforting. Not because of how it shaped to him or how it felt; Pelor knew there was no real relief there anywhere, but because of that captivating shape.

Amon was itching to hold her. A desperate pang echoing in his chest. Taking in her slumped over, sprawled out shape. She was only shivering now. It wasn’t any easier for him to accept than her convulsions, knowing that she was only in this state because she was too fatigued in her body to do any further tossing and turning.

Impulsively, he moved to stand and go to her.

The muscles in his legs were stiff, and he knocked into the poor miss. She grabbed at him as he did her, a startled gasp as most everyone in the room raced over to his side.

“I’ve got this!” he snarled viciously, humiliated.

“Amon?”

Eyes turned to the tired voice.

Shoving away the gentleman on one side as the servicewomen released him from the other, Amon hurriedly shuffled the last section of space to the bed with surprising ease. Feeling none of the needles of pain darting through him, his swollen knees hitting the edge of the bed he practically jumped to climb in. Leaning over her; hovering just above her enchanting frame.

“Ess’?”

A pained sigh on parted lips, her eyes closed.

“M’lord…”

“I’ll get her some water,” the maiden’s carrying voice stated, darting out of the room.

Like flies, the entire team moved in to swarm.

The Illiad heir struck the first hand to dare coming towards her, leaving the individual to gasp.

“Lord Amon,” a firm disapproval in the tone of the lady physician. “You can not expect us to sit back and not evaluate her condition. In this state, we can ask questions and gain new levels of information previously-”

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.”

“My lord-”

A sharp clearing of a voice called everyone to attention.

“Please leave the room immediately and with haste,” the youthful maiden snipped, holding a pitcher and glass in her hand.

“Gather your materials, turn off all equipment, and leave. Lord and Lady Illiad need their rest.”

A man pointed a threatening digit to the house maid, inhaling sharply as he spoke: “Young lady-”

“You will leave,” the young woman spoke firmly. “Lady Essätha is in no condition for questions. She is ill and you have all spent the day poking and prodding her with Lord Amon’s anxious consent on behalf of his wife. That consent is now revoked. Now please leave, and do not make me request you do so again.”

No one seemed capable of finding a place of argument. The carefully poised confidence; the tone of authority and resolute, it made all eyes uncomfortably stare from the young lady and to the floor.

In a silent shamble, the entourage began to collect their things and make for the door.

With his eyes still resting on the delicate, shivering frame resting beneath his hovering silhouette, Amon could only offer his gratitude in a far-away murmur to the woman: “Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome, Lord Amon.”

The maiden sounded faded and grief-stricken with worry. Even as she stepped closer, placing down the pitcher of water and empty glass on the nightstand, she sounded distant.

Nevertheless, there was no dispute or altercations between anyone as the room emptied of all but two occupants. The door left open with just a crack, and the whispers of the chilled breeze fluttering in as rumbling echoes of thunder rolled in the distance. Billowing the curtains; washing the frigid air over them.

She was still shiny with perspiration. A thin veil of it coating over ghastly skin.

“Essätha, my dear, my fondest desire,” Amon breathed, carefully taking hold of her cheeks in a gentle grasp.

Panted, shaky breathes raggedly escaped her parted lips. The blazing heat of her internal struggle with the sweltering fire coating his fingers along with sweat as he held her softly, stroking hair from her forehead.

“My love,” he hardly managed in a warbling voice. “My sweet, my beauty, my darling Essätha. The keeper to my heart. The apple of my eye. The light of my soul.”

“What can I do for you, sweetheart? I heard you, calling for me. You know I’m right here, don’t you? I’m always near. I’ll never leave your side again, I promise.”

Deafening silence. Her labored breathing his only company. Rattling, whining; shaking in a way that wasn’t natural.

He placed a kiss to her brow. Tasting sweat; tasting the salt of his own tears.

He shouldn’t be crying. It wasn’t his pain, it was hers. It was selfish to cry.

Weak, sudden bursts of her pulse fluttered against his palms held close to her neck. It plunged into nothingness, and quickly elevated under his shaky touch.

“s’burning,” she managed; her voice broken and frail.

“Ess-”

Mouth opening, she drew in a slow grasp for air.

The most unholy scream tore through Essätha seconds later, and split him in two.

He grabbed her. Roughly; a bit too inconsiderate in his haste. Terror in his face as Amon slipped a hand through the midnight locks of the back of her head to support her as he pushed her face into his shoulder. Feeling her lifelessness; the limp lack of response as she dangled in his grasp.

Another, sickening howl into his skin. Goosebumps breaking out over him from the notes it held; dry and scratchy. His other arm anchoring to her back, cradling her to his chest.

“No no no no please. Please, please, please. Please don’t scream; please don’t cry please- please relax it’s okay. It’s okay, I have you. I’ve got you Essätha. I have you you’re safe; you’re safe here in my arms please, please, please-”

As she muffled another cry into his shoulder, he wept. An unforeseen set of tears spilling over the dam and out of his eyes as he squeezed them shut. His own heart hammering against hers, the sound of his breathes growing short and pained.

He was powerless. He could do nothing. No amount of years spent in the heat of battle prepared him for this. No training with his mind; no carefully placed blow to take out this demon.

“Please I’ll do anything you ask,” he begged, choking on tears. “I’ll do anything if you only just help her. Anyone at all, please. Please she doesn’t deserve this.”

Her weak sobs droned against him. Disturbingly fragile, just as her body.

All the good and gentleness in the world she offered, and it still took from her.

Amon swayed them slowly, back and forth. His chest quietly shaking with his bawling, disgusting sobs. Shattered moans dragging through him from her; puncturing his sanity and piercing his heart. Equally broken up whimpers obstructing his throat; suffocating just as much as the tightness that enclosed and restricted his breathing.

He kissed the top of her head as she coughed and keened. Lurching in his grasp faintly, with her form shaking against him desperately. Mumbling incoherent slurs at times; other times the muffled remains of his name dragging from her in frightened, agonized, fractured whimpers.

Still, he rocked them slowly. Blind and silent, as his vision grew obscured by the tears clouding over them and spilling over his weathered face into her hair.

He would not fail her.

She would be better, soon.

Day 23

He faked sleep. Curled around the trembling, thin frame of his wife; with arms and legs wound around her to try steadying her shakes. The sound of his own sleepless breathing; far from lax, was easily masked by her own, frantic gasps. His eyes closed, nestled into the crook of her neck where one of the many cold, wet cloths lay; scented with rosemary and lavender.

The sound of the doctors was hard to pick up against her dreadfully painful breathes. Through it all, Amon’s hands held to hers. Their fingers locked together even as her own set twitched as though to escape his careful, loving grasp.

“… the progression of the rot is swift.”

“And the countermeasures?”

“None are taking hold long.”

A drained exhale from one of the physicians. A nearly inaudible grunt of gratitude as the sound of a pair of glasses temples were folded.

“In every article I read, I’ve never heard of Graveshadow’s taking hold this suddenly, and this late in life.”

“Radulf has a theory on that; though there will be no proving it, most likely. The disease is going extinct with the rest of the people that carried its strange origin in the first place.”

“What’s the theory?”

Another sigh, and the clip of temples reopening as shoes fidgeted against the floor.

“He suggests that due to Essätha’s lifestyle; the years spent harnessing and using her magic constantly, that it kept the illness in check. Whether it was active until now, we’ll probably never know. However, Randulf believes that she expended enough from her core source of magic flow; however that anchors to the body, to keep the disease from festering up until later in life. When she had no reason to use her Shadowplane gifts with frequency anymore, it gave the infection all the energy it needed to feed on to grow, from her dark magic.”

A pause.

“It’s too late now to test the theory.”

“Agreed. She’s much too weak and… hardly lucid and stable enough to work with.”

The sound of their footsteps carried towards the door.

“I wouldn’t give it much longer.”

“Hush,” the other scolded. “If one of the damn maids hear you, they’ll chew us out for sure.”

The creak of the hinges as the door was pulled to an almost-closed stop.

“He really thinks she’s going to get better, doesn’t he?”

Amon raised a shaky arm, pressing his hand over Essätha’s ear in an effort to block her from their foul language.

“Seems that way,” sighed the other. “Delirious old chap.”

His chest shook with emotion, but no tears came.

There was no longer time left for tears.

If they would not put their belief in action; into trying to save her, he would do it all himself.

Day 24

The witch offered out a handful of ingredients as he gestured with a silent curl of his fingers. The odor of some of the herbs and spices proved delightful; while others were closer to offensive carcass meat than anything else.

He placed them neatly upon the table without comment. Pulling leaves from steams, Amon dropped them into the beaker of gently rolling liquid carefully. Leaning over his seat, watching the rise of colored smoke move from the top of the hissing liquid to swirl around his head like a wreath.

“Not too much,” a hesitant voice urged.

His jaw tightened. Grinding his teeth painfully, the Illiad lord took hold of the next plant in the pile to begin defiling it of it’s leaves and nettles as well to add to the concoction. It frothed and bubbled from the additional ingredients, crackling and popping.

Clicking off the small burner, he wrapped a thick cloth around the bottle and moved it into a flat pan of cool water. Steam blossomed instantaneously from around the water and the glass. It rose around him in thin tendrils as he quickly dripped in a few drops of the red adamant algae oil. One hand clutched to the other hand; knowing too many drops of the rare liquid would be toxic.

The hue from the potion began to turn a satisfying shade of purple.

Dropping in the dried petals, crushed roots, and pulverized steams of the other plants, Amon scrapped them in and added a dash of the gold-tinted powder offered to him by the hovering alchemist. The contents disappeared into the rich hues that grew darker and darker; almost a state of twilight in the vile now.

“You’ll want to drain it now of impurities,” the man urged. “Slowly; the liquid will still be hot.”

“I remember what I read,” Amon snapped with annoyance, placing the thin strainer over the larger container meant to catch the liquid.

Lifting the bottle carefully from its tempered bath, he tilted it over the screen to allow it to catch all the steams and roots that had not fully dissolved. The precious liquid drained out below into the clean bottle in cascading waterfalls. It smelled awful, but looked like a starry night sky.

As soon as the last drops of liquid fell, the alchemist pulled off the screen and offered him a cork.

“It’ll need to-”

“- sit for at least twelve hours, I am aware,” he muttered, stuffing the cork in.

“Twenty-four, actually.”

An irate grumble worked its way through Amon. He barely resisted the urge to argue out of fatigue. His eyes longed to drift shut in rest and his posture ached. Every shift he made on the cushioned seat was nothing short of anguish. With pillows and added blankets, his rear and cracking spine were not gratified in the least by the aid of such soft things.

Leaning back with a wince, his gaze looked upon the other chemist in the room. They were swirling the contents of vile thoughtfully, musing upon it in the light. It’s contents caught in the sun; a dark maroon section of blood no more than a few milliliters swishing around with a clear substance and upon that, an orange liquid displaced.

The top came off of the thin glass with a loud pop. Most of the people in the room flinched, staring as the blood clotted into a thick mass along the edges of the cylinder. The other liquids fizzled out around the edges, dripping on to the table now tinged an unsettling red.

“Dear gods man, what have you done?” the man before him cried out. “Do not move, we need to decontaminate the area now.”

For half a second, Amon had a recollection of displeasure that he was actually paying these people a salary.

And one of them was actively creating a venom much in the likeness of a snake as it coagulated blood.

Immediately, he ruled out any desire to have that man’s items tested on any human being without first going through a rigorous screening on any other life forms. They could start with organic plant life first. Anything, anyone but his wife would be trying that before he allowed it anywhere near her.

By Pelor’s name, what a disaster.

His eyes were brought to the figure on the bed. Her shallow breathes and scarlet face gasping for air as she otherwise lay motionless.

A lurch in his heart reached for her. Clawing his fingers into the arm of his seat, he refrained himself from going to her. Longing to nuzzle his face into her throat; listen to the charming peels of laughter that she would give to him as she threw her head back and ran her fingers through his hair. The softness of her smooth skin; the taste of her as he’d kiss her and she would squeal and giggle and wriggle against him. Taking in her elegance; absorbing the aroma of her hair and bodywash. Light and floral, with the occasional hints of vanilla or mint mixed in.

If he allowed himself to bury his grief and sorrows, all of his concerns, into her failing body now he would not save her.

He had to focus.

“Lord Amon?” a shy voice called out, tapping against the frame of the doorway.

Gritting his teeth to the supernova of pain that rippled through his spine, he turned his attention to the maiden calling his name.

What was her name again? Isabelle? No that… that wasn’t right…

“You have visitors,” the young miss stated calmly with eyes void of life.

“Who are they, and what do they want?”

“It’s miss Cackle and miss Adela, my lord. You sent for them and your other comrades a few weeks ago, as well as the help of these people.”

Cackle? What sort of name was Cackle? He didn’t recall asking for anyone with that sort of affiliation. And Adela… that name seemed incorrect. Didn’t he knew someone by the name Adison? Or was it Aeowyn?

Grunting, he raised his hand in the air. Fingers trembling with age, he gave a short wave.

“Send them in.”

A small curtsy, and the servicewomen was gone.

Exasperated and exhausted, Amon brought his hand on top of his face. Sighing deeply into the flesh of his rough palm, he dragged it down to drop in front of his lap. Blankly staring over to the pale appearance of his wife as she stretched out beneath the thin sheets, her hands wrapping into the fabric as she shivered and mumbled nonsense strings of words that were not words.

The tonic he had crafted would need to be tested first; just to be safe, but he sent an internal prayer to Pelor that it would work. No spells or potions thus far had halted the grotesque decomposition feeding on her insides. If he was lucky…

Lord Amon Thomas Illiad, you are a cursed man.

No- no he couldn’t think like that. It didn’t matter that his elixir might save the lives of people with horrendous gangrene infections. It didn’t matter that the beginning of zombie-infliction might be cured with whatever the market price of his brew could offer.

He didn’t need the fame and fortune, then or now.

He just needed her.

A startling caw jolted the elder nobleman in his seat so that he cursed and jumped. His knees hit the table, jarring him and causing an entirely different set of pain in his creaking old bones and aching muscles.

He shot the molting avian that hopped slowly at his side a look.

Who was this specimen? It looked like a rather aged raven with plumage not nearly as shiny and lustrous as a young birds may appear. Black little eyes moved over him beneath a hood that concealed much of the creature’s face, and a massive beak clicked close to his face.

“Lord looks ready to sleep,” the bird noted. “Years have not been kind. Some time since last saw Lord.”

Something in the back of his head nagged at him. Giggle? No. Chortle? No… It was right there, on the tip of his tongue…

With confusion, he looked to Essätha for answers.

Her state of being hit him like a brick wall all over again. But something in her face jogged his memory…

“Cackle?”

The bird looked faintly amused, and nodded slowly.

A strained smile, and he muttered, “What are you doing here?”

All clatter and noise in the room ground to a stand still. Ominously silent.

“Lord does not remember,” Cackle sneered. “Broken mind. Cackle is cleric, Lord Amon. Powerful cleric. Essätha is old friend that Cackle would be happy to help save. Gold not necessary. You paid Cackle back… well over the years.”

There was a sorrowful note in the bird’s mixed voices and tones there in the end. She appeared for a moment to be lost in time. Even though it was harder to read her expressions than a humans, it was obvious there was a shard of sadness in that comment.

She continued; her voice carrying strong: “Sully is out in search of Fire Flower elixir Lord requested. He brought Pen, Rava, Aylin. Cackle has brought Devil’s Bloodleaf, and Adela. Adela talking to wait staff.”

On a slip, he vaguely recalled just enough to dare ask: “What of sir… Abraham?”

A deadened, empty look.

“Dad?” Cackle spoke with unease. “Abernathy is… gone, Lord. Funeral years ago. Do not… remember attending?”

He hadn’t the foggest idea of going to a funeral since Fontane and Marie’s.

Abernathy… Abernathy… The name sounded wrong. He couldn’t place a face to it, but he could vaguely recall white hair. It had been such a contrast compared to Essie’s; more like his own now.

There was no avoiding the looks around the room. An icy cold shame running into his veins from their uncomfortable gazes. Naked and vulnerable were his inadequacies; his disconnected thoughts and shattered memories lying out for all the view. What remained of his brain and of himself was all in question now.

Nothing could salvage his self-respect. What they thought of him would… would simply have to do.

“You said you brought a Devil’s Bloodleaf?” he echoed faintly. “And what; by the name of the Gods, is a Fire Flower?”

“Devil’s Bloodleaf good for vitality. If used properly,” Cackle explained while ruffling her feathers.

“Cackle use in potion to rejuvenate weak-” she made an odd noise; like rattling bones and mist, while nodding to his wife’s form. “-Essie. Fire Flower liquid is Lord’s request. Herb Lord discovered in books. Book’s good friend to Lord and Cackle.”

With that statement, the raven tapped a slightly worn looking bible resting on her hip.

Exhaling through his nose loudly, Amon pressed his thumb on one side of the bridge of his nose, and his pointer and middle against the other side. Stalling for a moment to regain his thoughts and steady the flare of his temper that dared to lash out.

It wasn’t Cacciatore’s fault his intelligence was in shambles.

“Why did I request the elixir of this herb?” he invited in a soft-spoken murmur.

Patiently (far more patiently then she may have offered thirty some-odd years ago) the bird explained: “Fire Flower elixir is ten-year process. Flower blooms every ten-years. Supremely rare. Single drop of aged liquid said to cure all things. Never fail. Has cured all ailments and sickness. Only has not regrown limbs, which Cackle find reasonable. Not every species like lizardfolk.”

A hopeful shiver passed through Amon’s aged frame. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall reading up on such a powerful plant.

But at this rate, he was willing to try anything.

“Where did S… Sul go to find this?”

“Rumors say that far-Lord has concoction, according to Aylin sources. Rest when to seek truth, and bargin for a few drops from vile.”

Amon dare not hope to wide or too large. He stood on unsteady ground; unsure if he could trust the ability of others to help his Essie. After what he’d overheard, he wasn’t sure anyone was daring or as convinced they’d be able to help her at all.

If word came that this Lord had the Fire Flower nectar, even without knowing the results, he would lay down all that he had for the chance. Anything for hope. Anything to bring back her smile; to bring the laughter back into her gaze and the sweet sound of her voice calling to him. Anything to take away her discomfort. Anything at all.

“What will you be needing for your Devil’s…” he faltered, waving his hand slightly in the air towards her as his mind tried to grab at any functional breeze of thought moving through him.

“Cackle will find remaining supplies for antidote,” the cleric offered reaching out to touch his shoulder with thin digits. There was a sad bit of perception in the way she looked him over. Erudite of his condition through some means as small eyes glinted beneath the crisp folds of her hood upon him.

“Now, Lord should get some food and rest. Speak with Adela later. We see to friend-Essätha now. Lord can give himself moment to breathe.”

“I do not need to rest; I need to work.”

Clicking her beak, the avian shook her head. “Overworked mind makes mistakes. Does Amon wish to make mistake on Ess’?”

Little to his knowing, his already pale complexion only grew more paper-white.

“Thought not,” Cackle stated firmly. “Take advise, Lord. Eat and nap, and discussions later on next measures. Appropriate steps to take.”

Amon swallowed roughly. His hand; shaking, raked through his thinned hair a moment. Every other word felt scrambled. Melded into a soup of his thought process so that crafting a single sentence felt like such a frustration.

Why couldn’t anyone understand? He could not rest. He was not hungry. Stopping for anything took precious, precious time away from his goal.

Each day she grew thinner. Weaker. More delicate. Further away from him; the sound of her voice drifting to unknown places as she would call to him rarer and rarer. Lapsed into silence; sinking into this state of paralysis.

“I will eat and have something to drink,” he relented; hoping it would both warm him and aid in his concentration. “But after that, I will be going back to my studies.”

Solemnly, the Kenku nodded with understanding.

“As Lord wishes,” she crooned.

Little to his knowledge, the bird dropped her clawed fingers from his shoulder to clutch something behind her back.

He would be sleeping after nibbling on his meal. A sleep potion slipped into his beverage, and he was carefully escorted’ groggily, to the bed by those on hand to sleep. Curving into the slender edge of Essie’s body, with an arm placed over her waist.

His hip and spine would be in immense pain later for sleeping on his side.

But it would be worth it, being so close to her.

All of this would be worth it, for her.

#eci artz #essamon ship #Essie rw #amon illiad #i'm nowhere near being done with this au but i need to be done with this doc and start a fresh one #it's too painful looking over this massive textwall of agony every time i go to work on this again i'm hurt

[thesorrowfulknight-blog]

Okaayyyy, so! Apparently tumblr was being a shitforbrains again and didn't post my answers from a few days ago, so I'm gonna combine both get-to-know-me q&a's in one post! Sorry for the wait you guys.

1st set of q's was tagged by @legendarybitch 😘

Relationship status: Single AF

Favourite colours: Blue and green, hands down. I'm partial to he more vibrant blues and more earthy greens; especially hunter green with gold accenting. But it has to be a nice gold, not that yucky orangey-yellow some folks use

Lipstick or chapstick: Chapstiiiick! Anything else I get annoyed and scrape it off with my teeth

3 favourite foods: Oh god, I have to choose? I guess... Any pizza really though I have a weakness for deepdish (especially double cheese smothered in sriracha 😍), suicide hot wings (I want to choke on the fumes and feel like my face is melting), aannnnd a nice tender rare steak. You can't see it but I'm drooling now thx guys

Song stuck in my head: The Next Episode by Dr. Dre feat. Snoop Dogg

Last song I listened to: Zombies by The Cranberries (the cover done by Bad Wolves is fucking bomb too)

Last movie I watched: Galaxy Quest (1999) Worth every goddamn penny

Top 3 tv shows: Tough call, but I think the closest would have to be Hannibal, Final Space, and Voltron: Legendary Defender

Books I'm currently reading: The Rowan by Anne McCaffrey and Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

Last thing I googled: Biomedical Technology

Time: 11:04pm

How many blankets do you sleep in: Primarily just my one big galaxy comforter

Dream trip: Phew, that one's a pretty tall order! About 9/10ths of my clan/extended familar are still in europe (mostly Germany and the Netherlands), so I'd like to be able to visit everyone! I haven't met most of them because of distance but we're all still very tightly knit accross continents. So a dream trip would somehow entail being able to get to visit everyone and possibly even go with my Oma before she can't fly anymore (she hasn't seen her sisters in many years). If somehow this all timed itself right so that I could also attend the Trakehner Verband approvals at Neumünster, I would legitimately weep with joy. My opa and I had always planned to go together as he hadn't been since immigrating to Canada, but now that he's passed I want to go for the both of us. It's a family legacy thing, I suppose. My second choice would be to visit either Spain or Portugal for a riding vacation 😍

Anything you really want: To have a prosperous and fulfilling life brimming with true friendship, laughter, and love.

2nd set of q's tagged by @vecchiasignoras 😙

Name: Kate, though I consider it to be quite intimate so only my immediate family calls me by this name. Everyone else refers to me as Kat

Height: 5'9"

Middle name(s): I have two! Their initials are E.M.

Put your music on shuffle. What are the first four songs that come on?

September by Earth, Wind & Fire

In the Middle by Jimmy Eat World

Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana

Something Like This by The Chainsmokers

Bonus: Become the Beast by Karliene

Grab the book nearest you and turn to page 23. What is on line 17? (I counted them as the beginning/end of dialogue and whole sentences)

"She'll... she'll die! You know as well as I do," and Siglen's words crowded each other out of her mouth, "what happens to the truly Talented in space... I mean, look at how ill David became. Remember how devastated Capella was. To subject an infant... of unknown potential... to such mind-destroying trauma! Why you must be mad, Interior. You cannot! I will not permit it!"

Ever had a song or poem written about you? Not to my knowledge! Though the only thing they might draw inspiration from is how big my feet are lmao

When was the last time you played air guitar? Mmm, a few weeks I think? That Mötley Crüe riff was impossible to resist. As for a real guitar, I think it's going on almost 4 or 5 years now? Jesus time flies.

Who is your celebrity crush? They would have to be Tom Holland and Chris Hemsworth. I definitely have a thing for their personality type 😘

What's a sound you hate + a sound you love?

A sound I hate would 12/10 have to be my mother's voice, even just saying my name. It always sounds accusatory and condescending in the kind of way that's like nails on a chalkboard but under your skin. Also the sound of unexpected people WALKING UP ONTO MY PORCH AND KNOCKING ON THE DOOR INVADING MY SANCTUARY. (I loathe unannounced visitors. Hate hate hate them).

A sound that I love would hands down have to be the ambient noises my horse makes when he's just doing... whatever. When he's doing him-stuff. Slurping up electrolyte water like a messy kid, heaving these great big sighs because life amiright? I especially find his annoyed growling to be hilarious, because he is VERY loud and dramatic about it, but only does it when you ask him to do something relatively low effort that he finds tedious. Like flat work, or walking to and from the barn and paddock. Completely droll and lackluster. But going for a friendly gallop in the back field? You'd think we'd just gotten rallied by fucking Théoden to ride to our deaths at the Pelennor Fields. He makes this hard little growly-grunt when he shifts up into the next gear and then boom, you're gone. Just fucking gone. Then he's a happy springy boi. It isn't like his annoyed growling though; it's different. When he's annoyed it's more like verbal complaining; all in the throat. But when he revs it it's much shorter and takes on a hard edge. Comes up deep from the core. I can't really explain it any better than that. I just fucking love sprinting a 1700lbs war machine in general, now that I've re-learned how the hell to ride it 😂 I'm babbling now

Do you believe in ghosts? I believe in spirits and other things, yes.

How about aliens? We've only discovered and understand, what, 0.4% of the known universe? To not be widely open to and fully accepting of the notion that we are not alone would be pure folly. Even from a mathematical standpoint it would be wildly ridiculous not to. That doesn't mean I have any specific theories or "truths" about it, though. It would just be very stupid of me to be closed-minded.

Besides, if it does turn out to be true it would explain a lot of things. I think my favourite wild theory out there is that Mary, mother of Jesus, was artificially inseminated. Like we do with livestock. If nothing else it's fascinating to ponder the implications.

Do you drive? Yes. Pretty gutsy too, if I say so myself. My mum used to drag race so I guess it's both a hereditary as well as a learned thing.

If so, have you ever crashed? Only once, and that was an actual accident. The conditions were super icy so we were already going 20km below the limit, and I was hanging back, but what happened was the car infront of me hit the car infront of them, and when I slammed on the brakes I just slid about 15-20 feet right into their rear end anyways. Nobody got hurt except for my car; she took the worst of it. The car I hit basically just had to pop the dent back out and it was like I hadn't made contact. Lucky badstards. There were a ton of similar accidents that day so everything got wrapped up pretty quick.

What was the last book you read?

It's been so long since I've completed one, mostly because everything these days sucks ass, so I don't remember what it was. The ones I'm currently reading however are The Rowan by Anne McCaffrey and Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Clean, quality gasoline? Yes. Dirty low quality gasoline? No.

What was the last movie you saw?

Galaxy Quest (1999)

Do you have any obsessions right now? Not really, no. I mean, technically all things Bioware and my pony, but those are more of a glowering embers kind of love. Not the raging wildfire kind that overtakes the mind and turns you into a fanatic

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Eeeehhhhhh, yes and no. Like I won't actively hate you cause why tf would I waste the energy, so it's whatever, but I will also always keep you at arm's length so idk

Are you in a relationship? No, nor do I want to be. I'm enjoying just being on my own and allowing myself to grow as a person. I don't do relationships just for the sake of being in one, or because of this ridiculous notion people seem to have that you aren't complete/a whole person without a significant other. I'm only interested in end-game, and I'm not ready to be open for that right now ✌

Bonus: What's an annoying/bad habit that you have? Talking the shit out of everything. And I swear. A lot. More in my head than out loud, though.

#man this got dark #my bad #about me #get to know me #q&a #personal #me #thesorrowfulknight #i apologize for any typos; i've been at this for several hours now

[savoryspidey]

Trinity Boarding School (Part 7)

Imagine: Being sent to boarding school in England to escape your home life in the U.S.

Words: 2,472 (yikes)

Warnings: Language

A/N: I hope this isn’t getting boring.....

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Ten minutes go by and you start wondering where Tom could be. Sure, 10 minutes may not be that long, but because there is a possibility of getting caught, you can’t help but get nervous. Finally, the door opens and you panic. It better not be an administrator...

Lo and behold, it’s Tom. You sigh in relief. He closes the door slowly and quietly behind him. “Hey, gorgeous.” He says smiling, making his way towards you laying on the bed. You eye him up and down, appreciating his good style. He wears a tightly fitted short sleeve white t shirt with blue jeans. His jeans are cuffed at the ends and he’s wearing Nike shoes. He tops it off with a grey jacket.

You smile warmly at the compliment, internally screaming at how hot he is. “Hi.” You say simply. “Lets go?” He asks, extending his hand to you. You take his hand, effectively lifting you off the bed.

It was a tough 15 minutes sneaking through the school, but you and Tom managed to do it. He never let go of your hand. He led the way in such stealth and ease you think maybe this isn't his first time playing hookie.

You almost run into one of the janitors. You guys were approaching the end of a hall when you heard wheels heading toward you. You and Tom freak and hide behind a corner.

You can’t help but laugh. You’re anxious of course, but something about how you shouldn't be laughing in your situation just makes it that much more funnier. You hold your hand to your mouth to muffle your laughs and your other hand is strangling Tom’s to let him know you can’t hold your laugh in much longer. He chuckles too, gripping your hand, reassuring you everything will be fine.

Thankfully, the janitor turns a corner and you continue to mission impossible your way out of the school. You leave through a back door for what you are assuming is for emergencies only. 

You continue to walk until you see a classic red Ford Cortina. You stop in your tracks and stare at the car. “Tom, this is crazy.” You say worriedly. “Well, we’re in too deep now, c'mon.” He says flashing you a reassuring smile. “Okay…” You say, quite unsure of yourself. It is too late to be having second thoughts. Just relax…

Tom takes you to the left side of the car and opens the door for you. You look at him confused. How are you supposed to drive? You don’t know English road rules. “The drivers side is on the right in this country.” Tom says laughing, holding the door out for you. “Oh… oh yeah, I forgot.” You say a little embarrassed. Tom shakes his head sarcastically. You playfully roll your eyes and get in. He closes the door and makes his way to the drivers side.

He hops in and he can’t help but notice you looking around quizzically. “What’s the matter?” Tom asks. “Oh nothing!” You say, the sound of his soft tone snapping you out of your daze. “It’s just so weird. If I’m sitting on this side of the car, I’m usually driving.” You say patting the dashboard. “Well, you aren’t in America anymore, love. You’re in jolly ol’ England.” Tom says, patting the wheel. You smile at his adorableness. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You say flashing him a smile.

Tom starts the car and you’re off. Too late to turn back now. He turns on the radio and you don’t mind the selection. It’s not the same as the radio in the states, but it doesn’t bother you. You roll down the window and lean your head out the window, your arm underneath you, supporting your head. You breathe in the crisp morning dew and let your hair blow in the wind. You close your eyes and soak in the moment.

You’re currently playing hookie, on your second day of school by the way, stole the Dean's car, and you’re with someone who quite fancies you. And you quite fancy him.

Tom looks at you, and he soaks in the moment too. He can’t believe he’s doing this. This is a girl he’s just getting to know. But for some reason it’s one of those rare feelings most people don’t have the privilege of feeling, and he feels sparks when he’s with you. He may not know much about you, yet, but he knows that you are assertive, radiant, and most importantly, he’s comfortable around you.

You drive in a solace silence for a little while longer and then you feel the car stop. You open your eyes and ask Tom, “Where are we?” He turns off the car and puts the keys in his pockets. “We’re in the nearest town from Trinity. About a 15- 20 minute drive.” He says. You look around taking in your surroundings. 

It all seems rather small. All the buildings are close together and made of stone. There are small walls made of rocks along the streets. It's a quaint little town, seems a little dead, but its cute.

Tom parked in front of a restaurant that says ‘Bistro’. He gets out the car and you get out too. “Wait, wait! I’m suppose to open the door for you.” Tom says rushing over. This man is so fucking sweet. “Thomas, you are too kind. But thank you.” You say kissing his cheek. You pass by him and you feel his cheeky smile burning in the back of your head.

You let Tom lead the way because you are unfamiliar with this town. He takes his hand in yours and the action makes you blush. The simplest touch with Tom makes your whole body go into overdrive. You walk for a little until Tom breaks the silence. “Y/N?” Whenever someone says your name like a question you instantly panic. “Yes, Tom?” You ask still hand in hand.

“How are you liking Trinity?” He asks. Phew. I thought this was going to be a hard question. “It’s alright. The schools a little different than what I’m used to. The people can be straight up dicks.” You say cringing at the thought of Harriet. “Oh.” He says, looking down. “Some of them are cool though.” You say noticing Tom’s disappointed response.

“Oh?” He asks, knowing what you mean. “Yeah, there’s this one guy. He’s sweet, gentlemanly, handsome, spontaneous, a little wild.” You say sending him a cheeky smile. He returns it and he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. That these past few days he has known you, has been the best past few days he’s had.

You stop and you guys take a seat on a nearby bench facing away from the town. The view is absolutely stunning. It’s cloudy outside, so it gives the atmosphere a dark, but serene feeling. It’s quiet for the most part, and all you can see is grass and bare trees. A chilly breeze interrupts your tranquil thoughts and you shiver from it. “Cold?” He asks already taking off his grey jacket.

“Yeah a little.” You say laughing a bit. Tom puts his jacket on you, letting it drape off your shoulders. “I’m from California, I’m not used to this kind of dreary weather.” You say looking up at the sky. “California eh?” Tom asks interested. 

“Yeah, grew up there my entire life. Sunny Malibu. But England is nice.” You say. “Wow. I’d love to go to a place like Malibu, someday.” Tom says dreamily. He’s so fucking cute. “When I go back to visit my dad, you’re more than welcome to come.” You say genuinely. “Me? Oh I don’t know where’d I’d get that kind of money.” Tom says laughing a little.

“No worries, I got you.” You say nonchalantly. It isn’t a big deal anyways. Just a plane ticket and a place to stay. “Y/N, really, I can’t ask you to do that.” Tom says a little concerned. “No, really, Tom, it isn’t a big deal. My dad is a movie producer, so yeah. I don’t mean to sound like a total privileged bitch but money isn’t an issue.” You say.

“Oh!” Tom says. “Yeah, or, whenever. You can go whenever. Just think of it as a longer adventure. Like we’re on now.” You say smiling with optimism. “A longer adventure a continent away.” Tom says jokingly. He’s right though. “I’ve grown up in England my whole life. This is my home.” Tom says. You love how easy it is to talk to him.

“Yeah…” You say chattering your teeth. This is like winter to you. You miss the sun. “Do you want to go inside?” Tom asks getting up. He extends his hand and you nod taking it. He pulls you into hug and you gladly accept, giggling. He wraps you in one of those bear hugs and you sway back and forth in unison. He’s holding you so intimately and you’re wearing his jacket because you are cold. How much more cliche can this get? You love every second of it though.

You breathe into him, and you feel safe. He smells like subtle cologne and evergreen. There’s something about him that seems so homey to you. You feel as if you can stay in his arms forever. But alas, all good moments must end.

He pulls away and looks at you for a moment then leans in for a kiss. You gladly oblige and let his lips connect to yours. Its relaxed and simple. It’s not a peck, but its not a full on make out session either.

You pull away and admire his features. The way his chestnut hair is styled. The slight curl that rests on his forehead. His crooked but cute nose. He’s perfectly imperfect. 

“What?” He asks smiling. “It’s just, you’re irresistible.” You say scanning his beautiful face. He kisses your forehead and interlocks his hand with yours. You walk back to where you first arrived, a little disappointed that it’s ending.

Tom notices your sad expression. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks concerned. Darling. I could get used to that. “I don’t want to go back, it’s only been like 30 minutes.” You whine. “Oh, love, we’re just getting started.” Tom says. You sigh in relief. Thank goodness because you did not just go through all that sneaking around to have to go back so quickly.

Tom opens the door to the bistro for you. So chivalrous. You say thank you and walk in. You seat yourselves and the waitress gives you a menu. It’s a small restaurant with a few other people in it. You like how secluded it is. You sit at a small round wooden table with a small candle lit in the middle. It is currently 10 o’clock in the morning and isn’t quite lunch yet but you haven’t had breakfast, so you just decide this meal will be brunch.

You order a simple grilled cheese sandwich and he orders the same. While you wait, you and Tom talk about anything and everything. You talk about what irritates you, to your happiest childhood memory, to your favorite animal, and countries you’d like to visit. Tom really listens to you. Like really listens to what you have to say.

The food finally arrives but the chat does not stop. You tell each other your favorite jokes and you can’t stop laughing. It’s so incredibly amazing how easy it is to talk to him. He seems too good to be true. You take a break from your laughing to take a sip of your water. Tom looks at you nervously. Oh, shit, what is it? Did I do something wrong?

“Y/N?” Tom asks fidgeting. “Yes Tom?” You ask staring at him while resting your chin on the palm of your hand. “Can I ask you something personal?” He says timidly. Oh shit, oh shit. “Yeah, what is it?” You say anxiously awaiting his question. “Why are you here? Like why are here in England, at Trinity? The way you describe Malibu and all the great memories you have there, I don’t know it just makes me wonder. Why come here?” He asks cautiously.

There it is. There’s the big question. Well he was bound to find out eventually. You gulp and fold your hands on the table, trying to figure out how to tell him. “I, uh, in California, where I lived...” You begin “Mhm?” Tom hums, listening to what you are about to say, very tentatively.

“I chose to leave. I was having a hard time in school. In all aspects. I found out my friends weren’t really my friends, they just wanted to hang around me because of the things I have.” You stop to swallow the lump in your throat. Tom sees your pain and puts his hands on yours. You appreciate the kind gesture.

“Turns out I wasn’t really wanted. People used me. I wanted a fresh start. My dad’s never around he’s too busy working and my mom is off doing God knows what, and I had nobody. I was lonely.” You say getting teary. “Oh, Y/N…” Tom says in the most sympathetic tone.

“Anyways, I asked my dad if I could go to boarding school. Away from everything. He said okay. I know it might just seem like I’m running away from my problems, but you don’t understand I needed an escape so badly...” You say, letting the tears fall. Nothing too dramatic though, this is probably freaking him out and he probably wants to leave immediately.

He grips your hands to give you a reassuring squeeze. “Y/N, I am so sorry you had to go through that. You truly do not deserve that. You deserve to be loved unconditionally. You don’t deserve to be mistreated the way you have been.” You choke trying to hold the tears in. What he is saying makes your entire being shake. He wipes a tear from your cheek and he tilts your chin so you’re looking directly at him. He probably thinks you’re a mess.

“You deserve respect, love, and absolute happiness.” He finishes. You let his words sink in. You never truly understood what you deserved. Tom makes you feel whole. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Y/N, I want to give you those things. All those things you have been deprived of. I want to give you what you deserve. I know I’ll mess up, I’m not perfect, but will you give me the chance to give you my all? What you deserve?” He asks with begging eyes.

What is he saying? Is he really asking what I think he’s asking?

“Y/N, will you be mine?”

MASTERLIST

#tom holland reader #tom holland au #tom holland #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spiderman #boarding school au #boarding #school #au #imagine #tom holland imagine

[princessconsuelapark]

Secrets, Tears and What-ifs - Part 29

Author: Blake (justrainythings) Pairing: Ant McPartlin/Declan Donnelly Word count: 5 994 words Summary: After the Sun outing them and their secret 20-year affair, they have to deal with paparazzi, girlfriends, wives, family and... their feelings for each other. Angst. Fighting. Serious stuff. Yay. :) Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 & Part 4 & Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7 & Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10 & Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13 & Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16 & Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19 & Part 20 & Part 21 & Part 22 & Part 23 & Part 24 & Part 25 & Part 26 & Part 27 & Part 28

// Chapter on AO3 - er, well... hello, I guess? let's get straight to the point and do this in numbered bulletpoints yay 1. I'm sorry for being shit at updating, but hey, here's a new chapter, how about that?

2. This is my first chance at properly expressing this, so here it is: I'M SO FUCKING INCREDIBLY PROUD OF ANTHONY DAVID MCPARTLIN AND I LOVE AND SUPPORT HIM TO THE MOON AND BACK UNTIL MY DYING DAY AND BEYOND <3 <3

3. This chapter would have never been written if Abiee (@abieeoliver21​) hadn't asked me to include a certain someone - I know it was 8 million years ago, I’m not even sure you’re still reading it, but this is for you, love :)

4. No plot in this chapter, really - just some random (and mostly surface-value) soul-searching stuff and no one really gets to the bottom of anything. Bit of foreshadowing and mentions of stuff to come though haha.

5. I'm so so so SO incredibly thankful to everyone who's still here, who's still reading this, who's still interested, who still makes an effort to comment. Honestly, honestly, cross my heart. Every single person who's waited a minute for this chapter, a couple months, or a few years (god, I'm shit at this). I love you all so much, thank you a million for all your amazingess <3 <3 (also: usual warning for the usual swearing)  //

so because the last update was hundreds of years ago (please don't hate me), it's re-cap time !!

Ant and Dec have been having a secret affair for 20 years, but suddenly they are outed to the whole world, ouch. (To be fair, this is the premise of the fic, so I guess, you all remember that much at least. I mean, I hope so. I know it's been a year, but like... The summary is right there when you click on the bloody thing, yeah? Fuck, it's been a year. Please please don't hate me.)

They fight a lot about stuff - which they never do (scary!) -, while trying to navigate the minefield their personal and professional life has become. It turns out, Dec was quite upset about Ant marrying Lisa, thinking that Ant had given up on him, while Ant was never really conscious of the fact that he was actually in love with Dec.

Now though, Ant had broken up with Lisa, while Dec never really saw the need to do so with Ali (which, let's admit, was not the most eloquent way of handling this, but this fic is about Ant and Dec being in love, so we don't really give a shit about that), so they are both available, but terrified of what that means. Dec even had a couple of emotional, panic attack-like breakdowns (mainly in bathrooms? which is... weird, I guess?) that Ant is fairly concerned about. His family didn't take the news the best way possible. Especially his Mam.

They somehow got through Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and are currently half-way through Saturday, the day of their first live show of Saturday Night Takeaway. They are nervous, but as the show draws closer and closer, and more problems arise, they rely and depend more on each other than ever, defaulting back to their AntandDec-ness (and being very cute, if I might add).

Meanwhile a very old, but quite dramatically disgusting picture of them kissing surfaces suddenly and to push it out of circulation, Ali suggests to wander down to a nearby park and do a pap-walk, so they can provide less awful, and more lovey-dovey, kissing and hand-holding photos for the press. (Oh, and there's this homophobic little woman in the park who calls them out on kissing, but they handle it well, phew.) With that push, it's kind of decided for them and they more or less finally agree that they should be together and "properly date", if you will, although they are still quite shit at the whole having "The Conversation" thing. Ant admits to a few things that he wanted to come clear about (namely a sexual encounter of his with another man), Dec is not exactly sure how he feels about that (apart from unhealthily jealous and possessive).

Currently Ant is not really feeling on top of things, following a visit by Little Ant and a voicemail from his Mam. He mainly just wants Dec, who's left to get tea like ten minutes ago and to be fair, that's already way too much time to spend apart, so.

Dec is leaning on the bar counter in their studio's green room, waiting for their teas to brew, distractedly munching on a Jammie Dodger when she just wonders in. He tries to say something along the lines of 'oh shit', but he's mid-bite and he kind of chokes on a piece of biscuit and consequently starts coughing immediately. He tries to spit the soggy biscuit crumbs into a napkin in the most dignified way possible and she starts laughing at him heartily. And well, Dec really doesn’t appreciate that, despite knowing how ridiculous he must look. He is still concentrating pretty hard on, you know… not dying when she pulls him into a thorough hug.

It’s a long one and it feels like, she’s trying to tell him something with it, he’s just not quite sure what, but nevertheless it’s reassuring in a way that can only come from the familiarity of someone you’ve known a really long time.

'Cat,' Dec finally manages when they come out of the hug, wiping tears from his eyes, still coughing a bit, but breathing a lot more easily now. ‘Hey pet.’

‘You okay, love?’ she asks, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear, laughing again.

He nods and for a moment they just stare at each other in silence because of how impossible the whole thing feels – Cat is here (here in England - and in their green room, of all places!) and well, also, Dec almost just died in a Jammie Dogder-related accident. Maybe he could sue ITV. Where there’s a blame, there’s a claim, he thinks vaguely humorously.

Then Cat says, 'You completely forgot, I was coming, didn’t you.’

And… that, he did.

They set it up weeks and weeks ago – she texted him a couple times and she was coming back home to England for a bit anyway, so they were talking about going out for dinner, the three of them, after the live show, to do a bit of catching up.

But lately they've not really been on top of things, to say the least, and in the chaotic whirlwind of all kinds of pictures in tabloids and their messy fights, Dec’s been feeling like he can only focus on the task that’s directly ahead of him in order to avoid going absolutely crazy.

So, actually, no, he didn’t just forget about Cat coming; it seemed like, setting it up never even happened, or maybe in another lifetime, but definitely not only a few months ago.

Cat is still looking at him, so he simply just nods yes, because they’ve been friends for way too long to lie to her about something like that.

‘We did, I'm so sorry. There's just been some stuff going on and- I mean, it's great that you're here though-’

'It's great that you think that it's great that I'm here,’ Cat interrupts him quickly with a relieved smile. ‘Because I wasn't sure whether I should come or not after all this stuff. I mean, you guys invited me, but you know. All this is happening…’ here she makes a vague motion with her hand implying all this that’s currently happening, ‘But I just thought, you know, I don't come home all that often nowadays, so…'

'No, it's great, I'm honestly chuffed,’ Dec tells her and when he actually thinks about it, he comes to the conclusion that he’s not lying about this at all, not even a little bit; he’s glad that Cat is here. She represents something that’s constant, something that’s still normal in their life. ‘You look great, by the way,' he tells her, making her smile.

She really does. Dec has always kind of been half in love with her from the very first moment and it’s still like that. She’s really pretty – she’s always been, but she looks attractive in a more sophisticated way now –, Dec could die for her long blondish hair (although nowadays it’s more light brown, he notices), she also has a sort of delicate feminineness about her that he’s fascinated by, but at the same time he’s always loved her ever-present crude sense of humour and he knows, she’s always up for a laugh. She looks older than he remembers, but it suits her and – it’s a cliché, but she kind of grew into her face.

'Thanks, darling. I don’t look as great as Ashley Roberts though – I just ran into her outside and wow. Very American,’ she says the last bit like it’s a nasty piece of gossip and Dec loves her for that even more.

Dec laughs. 'Yeah, she is.’ Then he considers it, ‘You’re kinda very American too,' he adds with a playful smile.

‘Shut up,’ Cat says, dismissing him easily with a wave of her hand in a way that says, she’s very much used to this kind of banter. ‘You know what I mean though, she’s just… wow.’

‘She definitely is,’ Dec admits and to be fair, she’s totally Dec’s type. Still, if it ever came to it - if he was not fiercely in love with his best friend, that is -, he would choose Cat over Ashley any day.

'But last I heard, you were taken…' she says and horrifyingly, it sounds like a question, or at least something that Dec should elaborate on, and while the tone is mockingly mischievous, he can’t help but hear a fair amount of caution in it.

Cat doesn’t look sure if she has any business asking about this and Dec… Well, Dec has no idea what he thinks about that. He doesn’t have much experience with talking about relationship stuff and it’s definitely even harder when it comes to his relationship with Ant, because that’s never been something that was openly up for discussion. He has no idea where the lines are, what he feels comfortable sharing.

‘I… Sort of, yeah,’ he manages, and he can’t help, but feel that this uncertainty is kind of a setback, but to be fair, it has been an absolute roller-coaster of day and Dec doesn’t feel like putting much more energy into expressing his inner turmoil more adequately.

Cat raises an eyebrow. She looks hurt, like Dec just said something wrong, something slightly problematic. Dec has no clue why though, so he waits for her to elaborate.

'Come on, Declan, don't do this,’ Cat pleads, her voice strangely high-pitched. ‘I’ve known you for…'

'Oh. It's not- I’m not not telling you, Cat,’ he protests, understanding Cat’s reaction now. ‘It’s just, well, I’m not sure how it works at the minute.'

Cat raises a perfectly shaped, sceptical eyebrow at that. ‘What’s this then?’ she asks, shoving her phone into Dec’s hand and wow, that’s…

‘Weird,’ he says dazedly.

Dec thinks he really should get used to seeing pictures of him and Ant snogging in various locations, posted on the internet, but no, it still comes a shock seeing it so public, so sensationalised. It’s a bit different this time around though, because… Well, he knew about these pictures. He made a conscious (if not entirely free-willed) decision to participate in them; he agreed to do this. It’s the park ones, because of course it’s the park ones, and it feels silly now, but somehow he’s already almost forgotten about them; moved on, anxiously waiting for the next problem, the next catastrophe to survive and apprehensively, very unhealthily fixate on.

He scrolls through the article, flustered, a little bit feeling like he would be very grateful if there was a chair underneath him right now.

He ignores everything that’s written, he just concentrates on the pictures, and that’s already more than enough to deal with - he doesn’t need the shitty tabloid narration of their life on top of it all, thank you very much.

On the first picture they are in the queue for the burger stand, waiting for their food, and he’s looking up at Ant with a sweet, loving smile (‘That’s my favourite - it’s like a wedding picture, isn’t it,’ Cat offers with a concerning amount of enthusiasm, from where she’s plastered to Dec’s back now, looking over his shoulder to see the phone.) Dec thinks that the second one is okay, - it’s just them walking next to each other - up until he realises that they are holding hands on it and… okay. So that’s what they look like when they are holding hands. Interesting.

The next one is the first one to feature a kiss and the phone shakes in Dec’s hand for a second. Strangely, with this one, he’s not too concerned about how it looks (apparently it looks ‘very very cute’, according to Cat), but about the fact that they actually have a picture of their first truly free kiss. One for the grandchildren. Or… something like that.

The ones after that feature them on the bench, eating, kissing, then laughing, then kissing some more and oh, here’s the homophobic woman, shit.

Dec scrolls back up to the top though, because he honestly just can’t deal with that right now and… here he is again, smiling at Ant, looking like he’s happy, proud, carefree and very much in love.

‘Weird,’ he says again.

Cat laughs at him, not mockingly so; it sounds soft and bright. ‘When the whole country is talking about you having an affair with your best friend and you go to a park and start snogging him senseless, then there’s absolutely nothing weird about it ending up on the internet.’

‘No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just so weird to see it like that,’ Dec explains. ‘It was a publicity thing that we did,’ he adds at the end, mumbling distractedly, like a non-too-important disclaimer.

‘Yeah, because that looks just like a publicity thing that you did,’ Cat laughs.

Dec just leaves it at that, and he’s not sure why - maybe he’s just tired of explaining something he doesn’t understand himself, maybe he just doesn’t care that much anymore.

‘I’m sorry it came out- The whole thing, I mean… I’m sorry that it came out like that. It’s not fair. You deserved better,’ Cat says then, much more serious, and Dec looks up.

For a moment he doesn’t know what to say, because for the first time someone actually acknowledged this, someone expressed just how wrong this whole situation is, the fact that someone outed them against their will, poking into their personal life uninvited, (not to say that they are not at fault here, but cheating and lying, those are the crimes they are guilty of, and surely, surely the punishment-like attention for being in an affair that happens to be a gay one, while simultaneously being on television is not fair on any level) and it’s quite overwhelming to hear his own thoughts of injustice directly expressed to him.

In the end he just smiles at her gratefully, ‘Thanks.’

‘But you know. That’s just your fabulous showbiz life, isn’t it? Can’t go anywhere without being recognised, you poor souls. Fame, fortune, sex, money, scandals…! Maybe you should murder someone next. Ooh, or better: have a reality show!’ she teases him and Dec can’t help himself but hit her in the shoulder playfully.

‘Shut up.’

‘Ooor, maybe you should make a sex tape. That would sell well. Let me know if you wanted to. I know some people,’ she offers, mock-serious and looking at him with overly-scandalous eyes, but she can’t keep a straight face for long.

‘Oh, shut your face…’ Dec hits her again.

They laugh like they just said goodbye to each other yesterday, after a long morning of doing SM:TV, and it’s refreshing to be able to have fun with someone who’s not Ant. Maybe takes the pressure off their relationship a bit. Maybe Dec needs reminding sometimes that he’s capable of existence without Ant by his side every single minute of the day, so he can cherish the time that they do spend together even more.

It feels good and easy to be with Cat like that, but in a way it’s also nerve-wrecking, because of what Dec knows is coming next. They are at that point in the conversation. And indeed, although Cat is still smiling at him brightly, her voice turns sincere as she asks in a much quieter voice, 'You two okay?'

Dec sighs. He decides, he’s not so much uncomfortable talking about it, as he just doesn’t have the answers. Because the ‘you two okay’ question is way more complicated than it actually appears to be on the surface. Are they? Dec wants to think so, but he had just one too many panicky breakdowns in various bathrooms over the last couple of days to be able to say that they are with complete certainty. So many things have gone wrong today already and it’s not even show time.

'Yeah,’ he says, but his voice doesn’t come out right. He clears his throat. ‘Getting there,' is what he eventually manages, because he doesn’t want to sound bitter, he doesn’t want to appear as morbidly fed up as he actually feels.

Cat however is not the type of person who is satisfied with that kind of answer, and actually, wow, how could Dec even think that she was going to just let it go that easily? They really do need to meet up more often.

‘So… hang on, you are in a relationship then?' she presses, somehow making it sound like it’s the least intrusive question ever.

Dec still doesn’t have the answers however, no matter how relentless or good at this Cat is, so he goes for something light-hearted. 'Well, everyone seems to think so,' he says dismissively, not looking her in the eye.

'What kind of answer is that?' she asks with furrowed eyebrows, but also like she’s worried that she’s gone just a bit too far this time.

Dec sighs, more just frustrated with himself than anything anything else, really. 'The I don't know kind. It's just… this whole talking about things is pretty new to me, sorry. I mean…’ he trails off. ‘It's like no one's surprised. Like people were expecting it,’ it almost explodes out of him, the words coming quick and loud; this has been bothering him for a while now. ‘Like everyone fucking secretly knew about it like…!’

There is a moment of silence and Cat is looking at him with this very very patient expression on her face, like she’s waiting for him to realise something, like she wants him to figure it out on his own.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Dec curses when he finally understands. ‘I give up,’ he says, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I fucking give up. Why is it even such a big deal if every person on this bloody planet knew about it, huh? Why? If this is not even new information to anyone, why does it still make the front page of every shitty tabloid in this stupid country like? Aren’t people more interested in… I don’t know, Posh and Becks, or something?!’

Cat laughs at him, but she’s rubbing at his shoulder comfortingly. She leans over the counter then, rummaging for a bit, then turning back towards Dec with a plastic teaspoon.

‘Well, not everyone knew about it,’ she says consolingly, fishing out the teabags from both of the teas that Dec has already completely forgotten about. She dumps them unceremoniously on top a single napkin, drenching the whole counter immediately and looking like she couldn’t care less. She puts down the spoon and looks into Dec’s face with a part-apologetic, part-pleading expression. ‘But, I mean - and I’m only speaking for myself here -, if you think about it, you were never really careful about it when it was just the three of us, so I just assumed you thought that I knew, and I mean, it wasn't exactly a big deal, so…'

Dec lets out a disbelieving little laugh. 'Ant was with Lisa though. I was dating Clare-'

Cat holds up a hand, before he could go any further than that. ‘I’m not saying I understood exactly what was going on, Dec, but you know... It’s the two of you. It’s just your thing,’ she explains easily.

‘Our thing,’ Dec repeats incredulously.

‘Well, yeah,’ she grins at him bright and happy, stunning Dec into silence for a moment.

‘I feel like I have to go now and re-evaluate my life,’ he deadpans finally and Cat laughs warmly.

‘Better now than never,’ she says. Cheeky. ‘Where’s your loved up other half, then?’

‘Dressing room,’ Dec replies, only bothering to roll his eyes at that, and well, okay, maybe he understands why so many people have always taken this for granted - they never exactly discouraged the notion that there was something between them deeper than friendship. But it never really bothered him, he was never really iffy about assumptions like that. If that’s even possible, he was always sort of clear on where he stood: pretty much very into blonde girls, but kind of also very much happily attached to Ant in every way possible. A bit of teasing about their closeness was always welcome, met with a slightly embarrassed, but mostly proudly possessive smile or a funnier counter-joke. It never even occurred to either of them to get prissy about it, especially because most of it was… well, true.

‘We still have a bit of time, I think, if you wanna come, see him before the show?’ he suggests, looking at his watch. He grabs both teas when Cat nods and starts making his way out of the green room with her close behind.

‘Oh yeah, how’s the show going?’ Cat asks as they walk down a corridor, seemingly having realised that for now, she’s not going to get anything more specific out of him, relationship-wise.

‘Well, you know…’ Dec shrugs. ‘It’s okay, I think. It’s one big gay joke, the whole thing, with loads of embarrassing bits and making fun of ourselves, but we never had too much dignity anyway.’

‘So you’re acknowledging it,’ she nods seriously.

‘We can’t just ignore it, to be fair,’ he smiles back tepidly.

Cat shakes her head. ‘I know plenty of people who would. And you have to give yourself credit when you’re doing something right.’

‘Hah, yeah, because doing something right is exactly what this is. Forced out of the closet and we are gracious enough to acknowledge it. Well done us!’

They are suddenly stopped when they get to the next turn - a couple of stage-hands seemingly have tried to move a large piece of the stage set through the corridors, but now it’s stuck. Dec is assured by several people rapidly that the issue is going to be solved any minute now, but he just raises his eyebrows at them, like he couldn’t be less fazed by this catastrophic turn of events and leans on a wall casually, continuing his conversation with Cat, waiting to be able to get through.

‘You see, a tiny part of me thought, you two put the picture out,’ Cat says in a way that’s almost outrageously shy, especially coming from her.

‘What, that we did this whole thing on purpose?’ Dec asks back, definitely not as outraged as he perhaps would have been a day, maybe even hours ago.

She nods silently.

‘You’re not the first person to accuse me of that today,’ Dec remarks, surprised to detect humour in his own voice. ‘Ant and you should really make a Facebook group for that or something.’

He laughs, but Cat just gapes at him. ‘Wait, he said what?’

Dec sighs again. ‘I don’t know, Cat,’ he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. There are quite a few people mulling around now, waiting for the corridor to be free to walk again, but the casual chatting of people and the shouts of the stage-hands make enough noise for Dec to deem it a safe environment to have this conversation in. He’s at a point where he doesn’t care much anyway, to be fair.

‘At first it was just that we reacted really differently,’ he starts explaining it, from the start, from the beginning, like he never had a chance to do so with his Mam, like he felt too awkward to with Ali, and too uncomfortable with his sister. ‘He automatically tried to defend what they had with Lisa, which is fair enough, but for me, it was all about finally doing what we should have done ten years ago. Being honest about it. I guess,’ he chuckles, realising the irony of it just now, ‘I reacted like everyone else, assuming that we’d be together now that’s it out, just taking it for granted.

‘But then he broke up with Lise, but decided not to tell me, so I could choose to leave him if I wanted to apparently, or… whatever the fuck that was about,’ he looks at Cat here significantly, with a “can you believe how stupid and annoying he is” kind of look, and when Cat laughs (surprised a little, but indulging) it feels like the best thing in the whole wide world.

‘And well, I’m definitely not with Ali, but it’s just… well, there were some trust-’ Dec stops himself before he could say “issues”. ‘There were some trust things… On my part, mainly. And maybe that’s why he seems to think that it’s like honesty hour now or something, because he keeps coming up with all these things that he never told me and I just… fuck, I wish we could just… Stop time or something. Call half-time. Because we have no idea how to handle any of this fucked up thing and we… put these people through this thing, this sick thing, for… for years! I mean, Mam’s not talking to me, Lisa is fucking heartbroken, but like, still taking it in her stride, Ali is fucking amazing, doing the manager things, and… fuck, there’s Clare and Georgie and so many other people that we just… fucked. And for what? So we can shag each other? It’s like I never even realised how stupid this whole thing…’ his rant stops suddenly and abruptly, with him having to take an almost unexpected breath out of nowhere, but then he shrugs and lets out an indignant little huff, not bothering to finish his sentence.

‘You’re actually fighting?’ Cat asks into the silence, her eyes a very deep brown.

‘I guess, we finally got to the point of breaking. We always said, it’d happen one day and it wasn’t healthy that we never fought.’ Dec suddenly wonders for a second if it was actually them who always said this, or if it was just one of them, and if yes, which one. He shakes his head, letting go of this pointless thought.

‘It wasn’t just shagging though, Dec. You are in love. You can’t control that,’ Cat says quietly, reminding Dec of a negotiator trying to talk someone off a roof, someone who’s very determined to jump.

‘Well, fuck. I don’t know what the right answer is or what we should have-’ a sudden picture-perfect memory startles him into silence. An echoing church corridor, eight or so years ago, him running, trying to comprehend what’s just happened, trying not to throw up, just running and running, like the coward he is, the fucking mess that he was that day. But, no. He did the right thing. Or… did he? Wasn’t it always going to end like this, out in the open? Didn’t he just postpone the inevitable by not doing what he was prepared to finally go through with that day? ‘We are still responsible for all of this,’ he says gravely after a while, after collecting himself a bit.

‘I wasn’t expecting you to be fighting though,’ Cat says, sort of just thinking aloud.

‘Neither did we,’ Dec replies, grimacing. ‘We ran out of secrets today though, I think,’ he adds, almost like an after-thought, not sounding as hopeful as he’d like. ‘Don’t look at us like that,’ he asks Cat pleadingly when she stares at him, looking a bit like she’s never seen him in her life.

‘Sorry,’ she says, catching herself. ‘I- I guess, I just thought, you would be more…’

‘Prepared for something like this?’ Dec finishes her sentence, laughing humourlessly. ‘Yeah, no, ‘cos, we’re idiots like. But I think for Ant it was way easier to get over all this. It’s like he jumped from this is not serious, it’s never been, to this place where he’s just incredibly comfortable with everything and… I guess, this is what I always wanted and now I know this, but I was just so fucking afraid that I never admitted it to myself and I’m still pretty much just scared shitless,’ he concludes. ‘Well. That’s where we are right now. That’s what I mean by I don’t know.’

Cat seems to think about it for a moment, taking it all in, processing, then - looking as enlightened as it goes - she says, ‘You’ve been struggling with this for a lifetime, Decs. You had way too much time to think about it and make up all these problems in your head, whether they are real or not. You just have more to get through than he does,’ she says and Dec is a bit taken aback by how it’s actual sensible advise, even if it can just be translated into a simple “give it time”. ‘Like the wedding thing?’ Cat adds tentatively and oh, fuck.

‘Shit. I forgot you knew about that,’ Dec shakes his head, pointedly staring at his shoes. The pain he expects from the mention of the wedding doesn’t come this time (maybe he’s exhausted his quota for the day or it’s too soon, from a moment ago when he thought about it, to hurt properly again), and that’s unusual, but he does feel more embarrassed than he has in a long while, and that’s really something, considering he just had several close-up pictures of snogging Ant’s face off exposed to, and tabloid-pushed-down-the-throats of, most of the country’s population.

‘I was there,’ Cat says significantly. ‘I don’t just know about it, I fucking saw it happen.’

Dec is infinitely thankful for the distraction of someone coming up to him, saying that the set piece really is stuck and maybe they are better off choosing a different route and just going the long way around, so the wedding topic is left well and alone. Dec exchanges pleasantries about this overall quite sitcom-humorous turn of events with the person and (‘They were not supposed to move it through here, but a couple of the new guys didn’t know,’ he explains to Cat) turns around to walk back the way they came from.

‘So… I mean, I just assumed that you’re like together, especially after the pictures, but now I’m… not so sure?’ Cat continues her probing, and despite his general and automatic annoyance by this line of questioning, Dec finds that it’s really nice to complain to someone about all this.

‘Yeah. Yeah? Maybe. Probably.’ Dec shoots her a painful smile when he realises how stupid that sounded. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Have you talked about it?’ she asks, laughing a little, as they turn onto another corridor.

‘We… sort of did,’ Dec confirms, but then he goes off-topic, his thoughts racing too fast for him to make them coherent enough to even just stop himself from casually blurting them out. ‘Today he said I love you to me in the most casual way and I said it back without even thinking about it and I feel like… It doesn’t feel like a normal relationship, like we didn’t have any of those moments, like we never even had a first date like, but I feel like I’ve been dating him since I was twenty or something – how is that right?’ he asks, feeling every bit as pathetic as he know he must sound.

‘It can’t be right just because it’s not usual?’ Cat asks back wonderingly, for some reason still humouring Dec. ‘Okay, so you didn’t have a traditional I love you moment, so what?’ (Dec opens his mouth here, because while they might not have had a so-to-speak “traditional” I love you moment - and Ant might stupidly deny that that was their first one on top of that -, it was still pretty romcom-like, thank you very much, involving some leftover curry, crap telly and Peter Andre being their upstairs neighbour playing a weirdly significant role in all of it, but then he thinks better of it and just lets Cat continue without interrupting). ‘You have other things. You have a kind of connection that most people wouldn’t ever dare dream of…’

‘I guess so,’ Dec says awkwardly. He still finds it incredibly strange how other people perceive their relationship, how other people consider his day-to-day normal to be unique and special. Not to say, he’s not aware of how lucky he is to have found Ant, it’s just…

He stops at a door leading to a set of service stairs, holds it open for Cat, lets her grab onto his arm as she - surprisingly elegantly - struggles down them in her heels. ‘It’s just confusing and I feel like I can’t figure it out - any of it,’ he says finally. ‘And there’s just so much pressure from everywhere to do the right thing and be so many things and it’s bloody all over the papers like and…’

‘I really didn’t expect you to be this hesitant about this,’ Cat says earnestly, stopping for a moment.

Dec looks at her. Then with new-found energy, ‘I mean just because it’s supposed to work, just because it’s us, it doesn’t mean that it actually will. We’re just jumping into it and there’s no time to adjust, not like when you’re actually dating someone, to get used to them, to figure out their habits and-‘

‘But, Dec…’ she interrupts him, sounding astonished. ‘You don’t need to do that,’ she laughs incredulously, shaking her head.

He looks at her, a bit frustrated, waiting for her to explain.

‘You know all this. Yeah, this might be an issue for other people who get together like this, from an affair or whatever, and yeah, it might be an adjustment, a hard one, but the pair of you are…’ she laughs again, almost fondly, ‘…strange and weird and… just think it through! You know what’s it like to live with him. You see each other every single day. You know his habits, you know what he does first thing in the morning, you know how he takes his coffee, you have shared a bathroom together, you do actually go shopping together. Dec, you have a joint twitter account for god's sake,' she finishes, looking like she’s clearly just won this whole thing altogether.

Dec opens his mouth to snarl back at her, but then he realises, he’s not sure what to say. After a while he just puts a hand on her lower back to usher her forwards and in the right direction. They don’t say much of anything for the rest of the way; Dec deep in his thoughts, Cat clicking with her heels like she’s the queen of the universe or something and she just solved Dec’s every problem single-handedly.

Well, Dec thinks with a wry smile, as he hands her the teas so he can open his dressing room door. Maybe she is. And maybe she didn’t exactly solve everything, but. This is definitely a start, or… maybe even a clear sighting of a finish line that, until a minute ago, Dec wasn’t even sure - couldn’t possibly hope! - existed.

chapter 30

#ant and dec #kumbusha #anthony mcpartlin #declan donnelly #fic by me #my post #secrets tears and what ifs #ant and dec fanfiction

[imaginedaydreamsquad-blog]

Joe Sugg Imagine #2

You and Joe have been together for a while, he broke up with you for another girl. You’re broken. (happy end) Word Count: 2.6k Pairing: Joe x Reader ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I still felt the pain, it was like an echo in my hollow heart. It’s been six months. Six months in which I told myself every morning, that it’d be okay to give me strength to get through the day. Six months in which I smiled and reassured me and my friends that I was alright. Six months in which I was laying in bed at the end of a long day, crying because it still hurt so bad. It hurt looking at him. But after these six months I couldn’t handle the pain anymore. So I awoke at a Monday and told myself that no one would ever get this much power over me to hurt me like that ever again. And with that I cut the feelings away. I didn’t feel anything at all. Empty. No more tears, no more heartbreak, no more hope. Nothing. I was finally feeling strong again. No one could get to me. No one could hurt me. I could finally sleep again. I could see him in the eye without feeling tears well up… All was good.

„Y/N?“ I flinched at the sudden call of my name. It was him. Joe. I looked him in the eyes and lost myself in the blue. But instead of feeling my heartbeat speed up, or butterflies in my stomach or a painful stab in the heart I felt nothing. „What did you say?“ I asked him, because I didn’t pay attention. „I asked if you want to grab a coffee?“ He was nervous, I could see it in his eyes and in the way he stepped from one foot onto the other. He still felt bad. Even if we were something like friends again. But he didn’t have to be careful anymore. I was strong again. „Sure.“ I smiled and stood up to grab my wallet. It was still warm enough to not wear a jacket. The sun stood low on the sky, it must’ve been something between afternoon and evening. The elevator ride was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. As we walked out in the streets a cold breeze hit us and made us shiver. But it somehow woke me up and my steps became lighter. I felt a smile creep on my face and I held my face in the sun. I loved this time of day. Joe also squinted against the sun and was completely by himself. I didn’t want to interupt him. The wind was playing with his hair and at that I realized he wasn’t wearing a cap, like he always did the past weeks. „Where did your-?“ But he wouldn’t let me finish. „She won’t come anymore“, he quickly answered. She? „It… It’s over.“ And with that I realized that he was talking about her. HER. IT WAS OVER. „That… I’m sorry… even if I meant your cap and not Hannah“, I explained. Hannah. That was the name of my own personal hell. The was simply perfect. Perfect body, perfect blonde hair, perfect style, perfekt mind. The perfect face. I just had to think about her dimples to get jealous. Hannah. The perfect match for Joe. They would never fight, they harmonized perfectly. It seemed like it was the perfect relationship. Couple goals. It was even more shocking for me to hear about them breaking up. „Oh, I wasn’t in the mood for it“, he explained, ran his fingers through his hair and smiled that half smile, that did crazy things to my heart before I lost all my emotions. „For what? The relationship? But why? Hannah was perfect!“, I admitted and his smile formed into a full on grin now. „I mean the cap, Y/N.“ „Oh“, I blushed and watched my feet. Suddenly Joe stopped his steps, which startled me. I came to a halt too, confused about what was going on. „I’m really sorry, you know. I always wanted to tell you that. I’m sorry that I was such a dick. And I’m sorry about how it ended between us. I mean. I don’t understand why we even stayed friends. Why would you still be around such an asshole like me.“ „Joe.“ He was hard on himself. „You know we couldn’t just stop being friends. We have the same friends. And I’m your roommate. Wouldn’t be too practical to not talk to your roommate, huh? Besides, I don’t think your an asshole. Not anymore, anyways. I mean. It hurt being ditched because of someone else but Hannah was perfect. And I’m not.“ I saw tears in his eyes and without thinking about it I pulled him in for a hug. I forgave him. He apologized. We were okay. Everyting’s gonna be alright. I let him go and as we arrived at the café big smiles were on our faces. It became a nice evening. We talked like before and it wasn’t awkward at all. I loved having him back. We made plans to go out on the weekend and lauhed about stories from our past. We stayed about 3 hours at the café, and as we went home we watched a movie together. It was the first night I felt content and comfortable in our shared apartment after our breakup. Because of the non-existent feelings I still felt empty, but I was glad that there were no hard feelings between me and Joe anymore. We went straight back to being as close as we were before the drama. With everyday we hung out it became more obvious that we tried to make up fort he time „apart“. Even our friends seemed to be relieved, that everything was back to normal, Conor even asked if we were dating again, which I laughed off big time. Joe sensed that something was different when we watched the notebook. „You didn’t cry one bit, did you?“ I just shrugged. „Nope. Didn’t get to me.“ „You still cried two hours after the movie ended the last time we watched it.“ „Well, people change, I guess.“ „I guess“, he answered giving me a confused look. „Joe, I just have a bit more control over my feelings nowadays.“ „But… I mean, you can’t just control the way something makes you feel.“ „Yeah you can, you just have to train yourself.“ „But why would you do that?“ „To not get hurt ever again“, I quietly answered and I saw the way his face fell. He knew I was talking about us. „Come here.“ He held his arms out for me. „Why?“ „You need a cuddle.“ „No.“ „A big cuddle.“ „No, Joe, I don’t.“ „Yeah you do. Come to me or I will get you.“ But I didn’t cave. So he threw himself at me to get me to cuddle him. After a playfight he won. Of course, he was stronger than me, physically. „See. That’s nice. You needed that, Y/N.“ „No, YOU needed that“, I fired back, but let him pull me closer and laid my head on his chest. „Hm… yeah. I needed that.“ And at that moment I felt something. A warm feeling increased in my heart, making me feel bubbly. No. I could not possibly be falling again for Joe. That was impossible. So I focused on my breathing and the feelig was gone. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. He was tearing my walls down and that couldn’t be happening.

„Y/N? Baby“ He knew I hated nicknames. „What’s up, Joezeeboe“, I answered using his mothers old nickname. „Would you help me? I’m cooking.“ „Nope.“ „Pretty please.“ „Alright, but only because it’s you.“ If he knew, how true that was. We were closer than ever. Almost every other night we would sleep in the same bed, just because we forgot to walk to our room, after a movie or long conversations. I joined him in the kitchen and sighed. „You sound like an elephant running down the stairs like that“, he laughed as he cut onions. „Shut your mouth, or the elephant runs up the stairs again.“ He just laughed louder. „I didn’t say you look like one“, he explained and threw the onions in the preheated pan. I just shook my head and grabbed a knife to help him. „Why are you always choosing the most difficult recipes?“ I asked him. „I love challenges.“ „Well, you do, but why do you involve me in that as well?“ „Because I can.“ I could hear the grin on his face.

As the meal was ready an das delicious as imagined, we filled our plates massivly and began to eat. „Thank you for helping“, Joe said with his mouth full and I couldn’t help but laugh about his face. He looked like a hamster. „You’re very welcome, if you do the dishes alone.“ „Y/N!“ I laughed again. „I’m kidding. But we made a mess and you know I hate cleaning up.“ „Yeah, me too. But after that we can watch a movie. Or Game of Thrones. You choose.“ He took a sip from his wine and looked at me with questioning eyes. The sparkle in them is unreal, I thought to myself as I let myself get lost in them. He truly had won my heart all over again and as much as I enjoyed every minute we spend together as much I hated myself for falling for that idiot for the second time. „I don’t care. I’m tired. You choose, I’m probably gonna be asleep in less than ten minutes.“ „Noooo, you can’t be tired! I had planned a wonderful evening“, he pouted. „You’re making this sound like it’s a date or something“, I laughed and meant it as a joke but when he didn’t join my laughter I became nervous. This couldn’t be a date. It just couldn’t. „Which it’s obviously not“, I pointed out. „No. Obviously.“ Phew. As much as I was disappointed as much I was relieved. Surely he wouldn’t make the mistake of dating me a second time. After everything edible has been eaten from the both of us, we quickly made the dishes. „The Maynards are coming over in twenty.“ He told me. „But I thought we wanted to watch something?“ „Yeah, well, they wanted to join us and as you said this isn’t a date.“ Did he sound pissed? Was he annoyed with me for speaking out the truth? Did he think this was a date? I was confused. „Alright, then. I haven’t seen them in ages.“ He just nodded. I knew something was off, but I just didn’t know what the matter was.

As the doorbell rang, signalling that the Maynards arrived everything was clean. Joe went to open the door and I sat down on the coach waiting for all 3 to join me. Conor was the first to greet me. „Y/N! I havent seen you since forever. How are you? You look amazing by the way,I love your hair today.“ He was always so sweet to me and I wished I would have fallen in love with him. „Thank you, Conor I missed you. I’m good.“ I hugged him quickly but friendly and turned to Jack who already held his arms out for me. „Well, well, little Lady. Look at yourself you‘re becoming more beautiful everyday.“ „Oh, shut up, Jack you’re making me blush.“ I laughed and let him pull me into a hug. As we all settled on the coach, me and Joe on the long end, with our feet up, Jack and Conor on the other side, laying in the cushions. We settled for a romantic comedy, as we all didn’t want to pay attention too much. And as I said earlier after ten minutes I was very sleepy and laid my head against Joe’s shoulder. I was at the edge of falling asleep when I heard Conor say: „So, you and her again?“ „No“, Joe whispered so I wouldn’t wake up. „Not after what I did to her.“ „Have you seen the way she looks at you?“, Jack chimed in. „She’s head over heals for you.“ „Well, you clearly didn’t pay attention at all. Today she told me that she doesn’t want a date with me. It’s over. We’re friends. It’s good like that.“ „Good is not perfect, Joe.“ „Maybe it isn’t. But maybe good is the best I can get for now.“ I feel anger building inside of me. How come he suddenly wants more than just friendship? Why did he leave me when he wants me? I coudn’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t want to wrap my head around it. I felt the urge to get out. Get out to clear my head. So I stood up and without a word I left. Silence. That’s what I need.

I wandered the streets in our neighbourhood for what felt like forever. But as I made my back to our apartment  I had calmed down. I knew Joe would ask me why the fuck I would do that. But I didn’t care. As I entered our apartment I heard Joe in the kitchen so I went to him. „Where are Jack and Conor?“ I asked as if nothing happened. „Gone. They went home like an hour ago.“ „Hm. How was the film?“ I tried to be calm and collected but I could feel that my hands began to shake. „Good. Nothing special. Y/N?“ „Hm?“ „Would you look at me,please?“ I didn’t realize that Joe had come closer. „Please.“ So I looked up, directly into his eyes. We stared at eachother in silence and my heart began to race. I couldn’t. My walls have been torn down. I was defeated. „Joe… I… I can’t.. it’s.“, I stammered and took a few steps back. „What is it? Why did you run away? Was it something I said, or…?“ „It’s just.. I.. You broke me and I promised myself to never feel again and then you apologized and we became friends again and I forgave you and I… You started to tear my walls down. I was convinced that I would never love again. And you of all people have to be the person I fall in love with. Again.“ I didn’t care that I started to cry. I finally had the courage to tell him the truth. Even if that meant to get my heart broken all over again. „You… sure?“ I just shrugged, then nodded and wiped my tears away. „I always… I always thought I wasn’t… doesn’t matter…“, he interrupted himself. It seemed like he was more upset than I was. „Joe… I’m sorry, I can’t control my feelings after all.“ „Well, neither can I. Nobody can. When I met Hannah she was all I ever dreamed of in a girl. But that wasn’t the reason I broke up with you. You know why I called it quits? Because it felt too right. You felt too right. And I coudn’t let myself trust someone like that. I never had loved someone like I loved you. I got scared. So I had to push you away. Hannah was perfect so I thought it would be easy to forget you when I’m with her. It wasn’t. I could’ve punched myself everytime I heard you cry. I was miserable and Hannah knew that. She wanted that you moved out. But I couldn’t let you go. So I broke up with her. I never thought you would forgive me after that. But you did. I don’t deserve you. Noone deserves you.“ He cried, too. After his rant we just stood there, looking at us crying. He loves you, I told myself again and again. He loves you. My tears ran out and I smiled at him. „I thought I was strong, not feeling anything. Fuck that. I’m strong, when we’re together.“ „You make me strong“, he sang to me as he embraced me and kissed me passionately. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hey guys, I hoped you liked the second one. This ones a bit dramatic. :D  Love, Kat .xx

#joesugg #joe sugg #thatcherjoe #joe sugg imagine #joe sugg imagines #thatcherjoe imagine #youtuber #youtubers #buttercream gang #jack maynard #conor maynard #roommates #breakup #makeup #imagine #imagines #buttercream squad #british #english #new blog #fanfiction