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prettyboypucey · 3 years

Text

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it)

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?)

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something.

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong.

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid

I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

“Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

“You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

“I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

“I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

“Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

“So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

“I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

“Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

“Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

“Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

“So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

“Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

“Um-”

I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

“Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

“Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

“We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak.

Weird weird weird.

The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

“Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

“What did you do?”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter writing #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x platonic!reader #charlie weasley imagine #hp #harry potter

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Note

Dottore with short drabble “You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

Something angsty pls? Thank you!

Tainted Glass [Dottore x Reader/Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: Can you escape the prison you made?

(A twisted Cinderella story. The girl was covered in cinders because she was fatally addicted to drowning in flames.)

Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, violence, death

(A/n): To be honest anon, I didn’t know what the word ‘drabble’ means until I googled it. I uh...hope you don’t mind the length :>

-----------------------

You fell back against the cold hard floor with your arms bent and head turned sideways. The stinging pain spreads across your cheek. It burns. But your mind was still trying to register what had just came into fruition.

Why?

The thought was so foreign somehow as if you could hardly believe he was doing this. But then the scene plays in your head again. You froze, your gaze enlarged and clueless while staring at the pale ground as it slowly begins to darken in the seeping movement of his menacing, haunting shadow.

"Insolent woman, you wretch!" He spat in a disgusted tone, "How dare you speak to me in such demanding manner? Have I already told you, only talk when you have something important to say?"

You didn't respond, rather you merely let the strands fall in front of your vision as you gingerly pressed your hand against the place where he hit you.

I…don't quite understand…

Dottore glowers down at your hunched form. He was never a man known for the virtue of patience. This man, the one who calls him your husband, you learned a long time ago to not meet his eyes as they would signal a hint of dominance amidst his authority, especially during moments like these. You came to feel his eyes instead, they were usually intense and full of wrath, sometimes crazed and curious while looking at his finest creations. He always loved experimenting in his labratory. After all, it was the only thing that could truly make the madman smile.

What is it that I'm missing? Where did I go wrong?

And you would do anything to obtain at least a fraction of the love he had left in his heart.

He marches onward with heavy footsteps, paying no mind to your well-being, "Tch get out of my sight. I don't have the time to entertain with anymore these theatrics."

At the sound of him leaving you darted your attention towards him, "Wait, come back. Come back, " you plea softly, "Hector…" But he ignores your call. The back of your fiance disappears behind the door and slams it with a resounding thud. He was gone. You couldn't save him.

"No," As a result, you burried your face into your palms and cried.

“I'm sorry.”

…

What is love?

Being raised in one of the most prestigious bloodlines of Fontaine, a life filled with riches since your parents were well known scholars throughout Teyvat, they provided you and your family with everything you needed. From exquisite dishes to priceless jewelry, yet even among those riches you never did find an answer to your question. They were tangibles and short-lasting, eventually leaving you with nothing until the glass of your heart was filled empty. They seemed to have cared more about their fortune along with the brightest child of their family line, your brother, a male heir, someone who fulfilled their expectations where you couldn't do so. And because he was able to give them what they wanted, he was loved.

I see, love is conditional.

Realizing that you possessed no talent to achieve what your brother had accomplished, you came to accept that you were undeserving of their love. Love was for the smart. Love was for the gifted. Love was for everything you are not. There was no place for your kind and thus you locked yourself up in your bedroom chambers along with your fragile heart where no one would try to find you, picking up the books upon the shelves and getting lost in their fantasies.

They told you many beautiful things about the world and many reasons why it was so tragic. Because they weren't real. The story begins with a princess who was a kind-hearted soul, deprived from the care of her evil stepmother and dreams of marrying a prince from a land far far away. They often end on a happily ever after with the princes finding her one true love. You've never seen anything like it. Where two people, despite the struggles they went through, loved each other unconditionally.

Unconditional love only exists in dreams.

Or so you thought to believe.

One day a man marched right at the doorsteps of your mansion. He was a student coming all the way from Sumeru Academia and had high hopes of building a business partnership with your father. The man was declined of course, you watched from the garden bushes as he was sent off back into his carriage. He stops abruptly and turns his head ajar to catch your figure, his inquisitive eyes were both striking and sharp. Like thorns of a rose that was ready to prick anyone who dares to come close. Even so, they made a very lasting impression.

Red eyes.

It was the first time that someone had looked your way.

Couple of months later, the government had arranged a grand ball where all nobles would gather and commit to building their social circle. Useless events. There was no reason for you to engage. While your parents were occupied with the latest gossips and your brother surrounded by fathers who were eager to marry their daughters to him, you snuck outside to the balcony and hid away from the crowd. Quiet at last. And as things should be. The moon was your only friend because she was just like you; half empty. Maybe that was why you still had a glimmer of hope for the other half to be filled.

Part white, you inquired, pristine and untainted. From far away it looked similar to snow.

"My, how pleasantly surprising."

While the other part was stained with black cinders.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a man leaning against the pillar. His mint coloured bangs were slicked back in a trendy fashion, complimenting the white suit he adorned himself with. The golden chains hanging around his ebony boots dangled and clanged with each step he took forward until the light finally reveals his face.

"You seem familiar," you say while squinting your eyes, "Are you the person my father rejected back in February?"

He quirks one brow and you were afraid if you had offended him. But before you could utter an apology, the man splits his lips into a toothy grin and bursts out into a maniac-like laughter. He was completely insane, you thought to yourself. Though he paid no mind to your discomfort and continued to dwell in his amusement, "Hahaha straightforward, I like it! So what if I am? Is it a requirement to be a noble for me to simply have a chat?"

"And if I may ask why?"

"Hmmm, why?" The man reaches for the balcony and presses his back there. He threw his head backward before drilling his ruby gaze into yours, "I too am not fond of annoying crowds. Those snobbish fools thinking they're above everyone else just because they have a couple of mora when that is all they are worth. It's almost too hilarious for my own good."

You could tell there was disdain in his tone. Mainly towards your father who were one of the many unkind nobles of Fontaine and was only liked because of his success. Gripping your hands upon the stone railings, you looked down at the distant trees below while the wind rustled them apart, "I can't deny that," you say dissapointedly, "It's common for nobles not to associate with lower classes as it could potentially ruin their image. Though I may not have been there but I'm sure you had much to offer in terms of your brilliance, erm, Mister…?"

"Hector," Hector placed a palm on his chest with a polite bow following suit, "Hector Dufour-Lapointé. It is a pleasure to make you an acquaintance Lady (Y/n)."

"You know my name?"

"How could I not?" Hector smirks lazily as he danced around you, "I saw you before hiding behind the rose bushes back in your estate. Quite curious why you didn't attempt to say hello."

He even remembers that too. You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, "My apologies. I'm not use to socializing so much."

“Is that so? I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," he complimented while shrugging, "This is much more entertaining than hanging in that insufferably crowded room, it was an unexpected occurence to meet you here of all places. However, I must say time can fly if I'm able to enjoy myself."

You shifted away from his stare, "You flatter me. We've only been talking for a few minutes."

"I have yet to realize it then" Hector's cheerfulness remains at stance despite your gloomy response. He leans forward like a curious child and tosses you a question, "Then allow me to ask, what brings you out here Lady (Y/n)? I don't see any reason when your family are such highly respected people of Fontaine."

"I'm not like them!" You retort instantly, causing the man to glance at you with skepticism, "I mean, I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me. That's just how it is. They already have Clement after all…"

Why am I telling him this?

"Ah your brother I assume. Yes so I've heard much about his genius mind. There were a few instances where he and I collaborated at Sumeru Academia," Hector speaks as if regarding to his unpleasant memories, "Although he never said anything about having a sister."

"We're not that close. And I'm not very fond of him," you confessed bluntly.

"Neither am I," Hector agreed with a scowl, "He claims his position using the knowledge derived from history books but never tries to think beyond the norm. That ignorant mindset of his will surely be his downfall one day."

"Ignorance can lead to anyone's downfall. If they turn a blind eye to the truth, so much can be taken from them," you paused shortly from rambling too much, "That's what I read in books at least."

"As expected of your lineage," he sighs whimsically, "Such avid readers."

"Well my family prefers documents and research. I've gone through them too but I will always love reading fiction."

"Ha! Seems you really are trying to be different from the rest of your family."

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, you had already forgotten about the cold breeze despite your dress being less than ideal for the outdoors. The man, although he can be a little to blathering at times, was more than what seemed to be on the surface. At first you thought of him as someone here to take advantage of your relations to your father but he seemed so sincere when listening to your stories, so eager while expressing his thoughts and even made you laugh a couple of times. You didn't realize that the clock had already struck twelve as the guests were preparing to leave but you just weren't ready to do the same.

"Until next time (Y/n)," he takes your fingers and pressed a kiss on top of them, though you were more struck by how he addressed you without honorifics, "I look forward to speaking with you again."

A warm smile graces your lips as you cursty, "Likewise Hector. Thank you for listening to me. I know I must have taken a long time."

Hector sneered but you already learned that it was simply his way of expressing amusement, "Hardly. I was thoroughly entertained."

When your parents found out about your meeting with him, they made it clear that you would never see him again. Hector Dufour-Lapointé is what he calls himself but the real name behind this man was Hector Valliere who came from a village hidden in the west of Fontaine. Rumours said that he was chased out of his hometown by an angry mob, claiming him to be a madman conducting unethical experiments on humans. Shortly after his arrival in Sumeru, he abandoned his past identity and replaced it with a new one in order to enter the academy under legal supervision. Associating with a man of a suspicious reputation would only cause harm to your family's name. Though you could barely care much about their reputation. There was nothing for you to benefit from it.

Few weeks have passed and you evetually gave up on the thought of hearing from Hector. They were only fleeting moments, nothing more. Your routine would stay the same as you kept on plucking more books off the shelves, killing whatever time you had. However the activities you used to enjoy somehow lost it's flair and there would be a slight pain in your chest whenever you turn to a page with the princess as she is surrounded by her friends. What exactly changed? Your family still treated you the same. Did you suddenly grow bored from doing the same thing everyday? Why is it that you feel much more lonelier despite being alone for so long? It was hard to tell in a singular perspective. If only there was someone here to give you some insights on things you couldn't see…

A silver bird lands by your front window and you nearly fell out of your chair as it flapped their wings violently. A machine?! They dropped what seems to be an envelope within the thick bushes before taking off and buzzing into the evening sky. You switched off the lock and lifted the glass within a single movement, snatching the piece of paper so that the wind wouldn't blow it away. Hastily you opened it. Both curious and cautious of why would anyone send you mail in such a discreet approach.

Chère Mademoiselle (Y/n),

I can only imagine the shock of your expression once reading this letter. I'm only writing to you since I assume that your father had already told you those nasty rumours about my past. No matter. I trust that you have a good head on your shoulders to not prejudge people using such miniscule details. I wish to speak with you again. Unless you have other plans staying in that stuffy room of yours, meet me behind the clock tower at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late.

Bien à vous,

"It really is him!" The happiness spreads all across your features as you clutched the letter to your chest. For some reason, your heart wouldn't stop racing. It was a simple yet thoughful action on his part but despite how short his greeting was, every word held the weight of a thousand sparks, "I…I can't stop smiling."

And without hesitation, you prepared to leave. No one noticed your absence.

-------

It was only halfway where you realized that Hector didn't give many details redgarding why he planned this sudden event. You caught sight of him standing under the roofs with his hands hidden behind his back. He had on his signature lopsided grin, brows uneven as he glanced at you casually.

"How very punctual, were you so eager that you couldn't wait?" He teases.

"I was surprised when your bird knocked upon my window," you inform, "Is it something urgent?"

"Not at all. I merely wanted to catch up with old times," Hector tilts forward to emphasize his suggestion, "Care to indulge me for a bit?"

You crossed your arms, "Then what is it that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Hmm?" He hums, "You mean this?"

"Ah!"

Roses. A bouquet of bright red flowers were presented to you, nicely wrapped in fabric. In the language of Fontaine, recieving them could mean multiple of things and you couldn't help but feel hesitant despite his thoughtful gesture, "Why are you giving me this?"

"Is it so wrong for me to be a gentleman? I thought it would be best to prepare you a gift after you put all that effort to come out in such a late hour," Hector mused to himself, "Especially when you had to make sure no prying eyes would catch us."

You let out a small laugh before accepting the bouquet, "I wouldn't go as far to say that."

"Oh?" Although it was hard to see, Hector managed to catch a glimpse of your flushed cheeks hidden behind the flowers. A darken smirk climbs onto his face at the inviting thought of what it could mean, "Tell me more."

The whole night you both spent walking around the empty plaza with only the stars as your guide. They paved a silver path reflected in the horizon above, free flowing like one of the many watercolour paintings hung in your chambers, uncertain where they may lead but you followed them regardless. If it weren't for Hector's inivtation you might have never known about the parts of your city due to the restricted lifestyle you lived. He listened to every one of them. The stories you had to tell when there was no one for you to talk to and the complaints about your brother whenever he wanted to snitch on your actions just to get the praise out of your father. You expressed your frustrations when speaking about your incompetences, joy after reading a good fairytale book written by your favourite author, there was so much to say that you were worried if Hector soon grew tired from them.

"Go on. I'm listening."

And your heart flutters again. Suddenly everything felt so light with each step you took, it was as if you walked across the stars in the sky rather than the heavy pavement of the ground you called your home. But even if happiness was a bliss, it tormented you. Because companionship made you realize how poor your were all along. That you had everything yet you had nothing, slowly withering away like the roses you held in your hand. Convinced that your existence was worth nothing more than nothing itself. Doomed to be dismissed and forgotten. Rotting away...Hector stays by your side as you cried softly into the night.

From a distance the bell rings and echoes just like the time before during Fontaine's grand ball. Hector shows you a secret route so that no one could find you.

"Will you write to me again?"

The request was so innocent, purely from genuine intentions and devoided of anything he had in mind. Hector would always laugh in these situations when things have gone unexpectedly yet pleasingly his way but held back knowing that it would be foolish to waste such a priceless opportunity. And so he gave you his smile, one full of secrets where you had mistakened it as a promise, "Of course my dear."

Every night you could no longer fall asleep since he had occupied your thoughts completely. Sometimes you'd dream of him and their tales would unfold similarly to the ones you have read. It gone to the point where the maids would have to wake you up during late afternoons due to the dramatic change in your sleep schedule. Though, you didn't care what they did to you. As long as no one found out about your secret rendezvous.

You never thought that there'd be a day where you would voluntarily give up reading your beloved fairytales. They were now replaced by a stash of his letters that have been accumulated over the past few months. You read them each day, pacing back and forth within the walls of your room, whispering his sentences as if he were the one saying them to you. He made you feel special. You were addicted to this feeling. Eventually you managed to memorize his words by heart.

The pages of your diary were filled with notes. Like your very own fairytale carved into reality. From the rose petal, now dried, to the hairpin he snatched from a distracted merchant and a single strand of his hair you found within your cloak after a warm embrace, all of these items, a remnant of the man you loved were taped up in these pages. Sometimes you could even feel his prescence because it was all you needed. It didn't matter if Clement threw insults about how worthless your existence was, your parents could lock you in this prison if they wanted to but they shall never take away Hector from you. Never. You swear it. He was your whole world and the prince who saved you from a life made of aching emptiness. You would do anything to keep him by your side. Anything to gain his affection.

Anything.

"I had a feeling that you were the culprit dear sister."

Your arms stutters as they clutched tightly on the scrolls you took off from the shelves. The light crept into the room like arms reaching out to clutch around your ankles, warning you for trespassing. You turned around dreadfully to see Clement pressing his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms folded and a wicked expression aimed at your pitiful state.

"Why…Why are you still awake?" You say in disbelief, "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Please. Not only are you shameless but hypocritical as well. You truly are a dissapointment to our family."

"Wait," taking a step forward, you stopped him before he makes his exit, "I'll put them back. Just don't tell father about this."

But like your parents, your brother was unkind. Clement doubles over and hugs his torso, cackling through his teeth, "Is that how it is?" He swipes his arm up and you see a parchment paper held between his fingers.

"No!"

"Ma chérie (Y/n). I must say all this tenacious effort of sneaking in my letters to your window is becoming more and more tiresome. But of course, you are an exception. I want the scrolls you've mentioned the other day at my lair tomorrow evening. Make sure no one discovers this. I'm counting on you. Cordialement! Hector."

"No…" you whispered, feeling the weight of the world fall upon your shoulders as it shattered apart. Hector. If possible, you hoped that the pieces could just crush you right then and there. Your knees felt weak and a fright takes over but despite your turmoil, Clement didn't show a shred of sympathy.

"So this is why you've been acting odd lately. Pathetic," he flaps the paper tauntingly in his grasp, "I can't decide if I should be impressed or baffled by your actions. A secret romance with a criminal and the bloodline of Fontaine's most respected government associates? Even though you've hit rock bottom, you still decided to dig deeper."

"Clement you don't understand!" Stumbling upon your footsteps, you desperately tried to convey your predicament even if it meant feeding his ego, "Hector is not the man you think. He was shunned by the people of his hometown, treating him as if he were nothing. They…They ignored him! All this time he needed someone to recognize his brilliance, someone to understand." Shakily, you brought your tensed arms to your chest and screamed a silent whisper, "Someone to listen but no one did. He must have felt so alone…"

Clement flinches when you suddenly clutched onto his biceps. When he looked into your eyes, a shiver ran down his spine.

"Hector is counting on me. I'm the only one who can save him. No one else. He needs me Clement, he needs me!"

"Tch."

An ear-splitting scream of his hand against your face echoes across the room. It knocked you out of your stance and you bumped into the table, grunting while the scrolls to tumbled to the floor.

"Crazy woman, I'm embarassed to be related to you!"

While you were still trying to regain your balance, your brother had already ran off. It wouldn't be long before he alerted your parents, the clock ticking away like sand until the final hour leaves you with nothing but an empty glass.

"No," despair swallows the strength away from your legs and you crawled towards where he used to stand, "Don't take him away from me…I need him…"

I can't live without him.

Tears begin to form by the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth. This was no time to cry. Balling your fists, you sprinted out of the room, pushing whatever stood in your way as if you were running for your life.

And if you considered everything else, it wasn't that far from the truth.

-------

"Hector! Hector are you there?" After arriving upon his house, you began knocking on his door aggressively. The lock clicks and you were greeted by an evidently annoyed man gnawing his teeth together.

"Tsk. There better be a good reason-"

"They're coming for us! We have to go. Now. Before it's too late. My father is probably already waking and making arrangements for you to-"

"Enough, I can't even catch what you're saying," He pinches the bridge of his nose while you were still stuck in a frenzy state. He takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for you to come inside, "Get in already. I have a feeling that this will be a long night."

Hector observes intently at the words you tell him.

Not out of concern but akin to the way he watches the insects react when he exposes them to a different environment.

He was a scientist after all. A madman in which you deliberately fell in love with, so much to the point that he was able to feel pity for once. How you trusted him wholeheartedly with all of your vulnerabilities, emotions and secrets like handing him your parts just so he could put you back together again. Tinkering was always one of his favourite hobbies and he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at the thought of you being completely wrapped around his finger.

Perhaps that was the reason why he loved you. Because he didn't love you. He loved you in parts.

"It was only a matter of time," Hector sighs. He sneaks his grasp into yours, knowing how much it affects you and puts on an invisible mask of deciet, "I already knew this day would happen long before anyone could have predicted it."

"You did?" With worried eyes you gazed at him, "What shall we do then?"

Knowing he hit the target, his lips begin to curl up towards his ears, showing his sharp white teeth that shone against the dim-litted room. Hector asks, "Do you love me?"

A silly question. You didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course I do. I've said it many times."

"Prove it to me," Forcing his forehead against yours, Hector commands in a dangerously low tone, "Kill your brother and only then you can truly be mine."

Your brain sutters, trying to absorb what he had just said. Kill? As in to take a life? It sounded wrong. But...was it wrong if the life belonged to someone who ruined yours?

Dumbfoundedly, you glanced into the bloody orbs of your lover, his black pupils thinning into knives while burning in the hellfire of his true colours. Hector runs a hand from the scalp of your hair, down to your cheek before gingerly sliding his fingers at your jawline. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear.

"Are you scared?"

Ah, this wasn't about your feelings. This was about him and your future and there could be no future you without him by your side.

You let your eyelids drop and leaned into his touch, "I could never be scared of you Hector. Whether it is within my power or not, I will make sure no one gets in our way. I swear it."

"Good," he continues to have you feed on his affection, "I knew I could count on you."

-----------

The news of your brother's death filled every headline Fontain had to offer. He was driven off a cliff while making a trip towards Sumeru. No one survived. The remains were so crushed to the point that authorities had trouble identifying their bodies. The only explanation they could come up with by observing the leftover tracks was that the horse must have gone out of control and ended up dragging the carriage along with it.

Ha. Serves him right.

Food poisoning. The vial Hector made was very effective. You made sure to bury it away from your mansion.

With no other choice, you became your family's next heir. Hector notifies you that he would be away for several months to solidify a unique connection with a man hailing from Snezhnaya. You didn't think he would arrive at your doorsteps with so much authority. Fatui soldiers followed from behind as the staff paved a way for them to enter. Your father was clearly displeased by his outrageous approach but he knew he was in no place to deny.

"Upon the agreement between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, Lady (Y/n) will become Harbinger Il Dottore's wife," the Duke announces, "This news will be publicly announced at the end of October."

Dottore? Is that what he calls himself?

As if claiming his victory, Dottore shoots your father a devilish smile. You could feel the dining table shake when he kept pressing his fist against the smooth surface, begrudingly congratulating you both for the new engagement. Your mother bursted into tears.

Was it worth it?

You watched both of your parents mourn silently in their own manner. Perfectly knowing that you were the main cause. But you weren't able to feel any sadness because in the end, you now had everything you've ever wanted.

The inheritance.

Their attention.

But most of all, him.

And when you were convinced that this was your happily ever after, that fairytales were not just beautiful lies for the sake of comfort, you didn't realize you were already living a life made of beautiful lies conjured by your own mind for the sake of your own comfort.

"You're nothing without me."

Dried and calloused hands squeezed around your throat as you flailed your legs against the soft fabric of the carpet floor. He encases you in a straddling position, enjoying the sight of your tortured and clenched face. Hector…no, Dottore hated it when you disobeyed him. He despised it when his creations don't work the way he wanted them to and he had no use for things that are broken.

"G-hka--k..-"

"How many times do I have to remind you to not use my birthname. Do those ears of you even function properly? Or must I fix them myself?"

You gasped for air when he relaxed his grip. Vision a blur, you coughed a few times before he pulls your arm so that you lay flushed against his chest.

"Don't forget who saved you dear (Y/n). Because of me you were able to escape that miserable life you've despised for years. I expect the utmost gratitude on your part at all times, it is only fair that I punish you for not meeting my requirements, don't you agree?" Dottore lifts his hand up to pinch your cheeks, pulling your head to stare at your eyes, "After all, there is no one else in this world who can put up with you…but me."

His words were poison in which you drank like a woman starved. It made you feel numb to the pain the more you drowned in their alluring scent, the taste was sweet, a remedy for the bitterness of reality where the man of your dreams was nothing but a cruel monster. You came to believe that the reason why he treated you so harshly was because he was scared of losing you. You were caught in the trap of what seemed to be love and devotion when truly, you were just a toy to be used at a means end. He breaks you and he puts you back together, over and over again, filling in between the cracks formed in your glass heart with the phrases you loved to hear. Just like how he filled the other holes of your life where no one else did. You called it kindness. He saw it as entertainment.

Most people pay attention to the flower's beauty but they never acknowledge the thorns hidden beneath it's blossom. That is why they bleed. They get hurt. Though, you didn't mind shedding blood if it was for his sake.

Because you would do anything for him.

You would do anything to bring back the memories of Hector Dufour-Lapointé and save him from the Harbinger that ruined his life. Your life. It wasn't his fault. You knew you could change him to what he was before because you were in love with him, that he might still in there. Somewhere.

Right?

…

Please come back.

Time continues to flow like the tears of your dying heart despite yearning for it to turn at the past. Dottore already left the room a long time ago but you didn't. Raising your head away from your hands, you peered at the door in front of you, begging desperately through a chanting record of despondence.

Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.

Images, they slipped through your fingers, slowly becoming more distant until your mind began to see them as illusions. Dreams. Things that were not real. Telling you that your life was a lie.

"Come back to me…Hector."

Because the man you loved was withering in your memories and you couldn't do anything to save him.

A dry croak robbed you of your breath as you turned to look in the mirror.

Worthless. You were always worthless, it was what your parents told you since birth. It was what you became when he wasn't at your side because without him, your existence was worthless. You lied for him, you stole for him you, took a life for him. You destroyed yourself for him to point that it was hard to believe you were even looking at yourself.

Worthless. It's who I am.

And despite it all, you couldn't obtain his love.

(Crack).

Worthless things don’t deserved to be loved.

(Crack. Crack).

But what if it’s because I’m worthless, that he won’t love me back?

(Crack).

Your eyes jolted open, causing you to gasp sharply. When the sweet lies dispersed in your head and cleansed you of deceit, everything started to make sene. You came to realize why your wish was impossible all along.

Dottore...no, Hector, the reason wasn't because he didn't return your feelings. Neither was it due to the fact that he hurt you through his actions. Nor when he made you cry or scream for help before feeding you with more lies, thinking he would never hurt you again. It was none of those things.

It was because the man you loved this whole time was someone who could love no one but himself.

"Ha...haha," sucking in your breath, a sinister laugh escapes your mouth, "Hahahahahahaha.....!"

Everything was worthless.

You grabbed a nearby hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, watching yourself shatter into a million pieces.

There was only one thing left to do.

------

"Ugh, where is it?!"

It was late into the night where every staff had gone to sleep. The Harbinger fumbles with his keys while standing at the door of his basement as he was too busy proceeding with his research rather than considering the thought of rest. Usually he acted upon them on his own will, performing various experiments for enjoyment. However, ever since the Snezhnayan court had requested him to look into the ancient arts of alchemy, Dottore was forced to carry it out before the deadline approached. Otherwise his position as Harbinger would be revoked.

"What a bunch of self-centered blockheads. Can't they understand that it take quality time to get quality results?"

Most of his important documents were stored on the otherside. Half of it came from his father-in-law's library. He had you to thank for that.

"Ah finally," he mutters, though still dissatisfied, "I should have a word with my butler for misplacing them."

Dottore shoves the key into the lock but instead of twisting the knob he noticed something strange. It was old and had yet to be fixed but somehow he didn't have any trouble adjusting his wrist. Then he saw there were a set of freshly made fingerprints upon the smooth metallic surface. However, the only person awake at this time would be him-

An intruder!

Dottore drops everything to the ground and yanks the door open. He skittered down the stone stairs while cursing under his breath. Using the delusion gifted by the Tsaritsa, the Harbinger activated his lazer-like pillars as he took advantage of their glow to light up the unlit room.

"What in the abyss...?!"

Except it wasn't dark.

"All of these scrolls, I recognize them," without sparing a single glance, you spoke nostalgically towards the bookshelves, "It brings me so much memories..."

Dottore clenches his teeth together as his eyes shone an angry red, you were holding a torch dangerously close to his hard-earned collection, "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, "Put that out, AT ONCE! Don't make me repeat myself!

"They're precious to you aren't they?" You finally shifted to face him, "More than me."

"What has gotten into you?" He was about to hurl at you until he saw your torch lowering, causing him to retreat. You were strangely noncholant and he couldn't help the feeling of disturbance. Accepting that he didn't have the upperhand, Dottore decided to use a different approach, "(Y/n)."

The sound of your name falls from his lips. You faltered.

"I'm sorry for what I have done. I know I was dishonourable to you, as your husband and lover, and that you didn't deserve to see me so aggressive. You have every right to express your anger, my dear. I was in the wrong."

It was only a mask. You knew it well. But seeing him with softened eyes and a tone so comforting, made you desperately wanting to run into his arms so he could wipe away your sorrows just like once upon a time. To live happily ever after.

Hector.

Dottore runs his fingers through his hairstrands in frustration and sighs, "However the Tsarista needed me to do something very important and I can't seem to fulfill her request no matter how hard I try. It angers me. If I don't finish this, there would be no place for us to stay."

"Hector..." you sniffled quietly. He looks so much like him right now.

"Can't you see I'm doing this for you?" He consoles, yet his weapons still remain, "I only intended to make you happy and there's nothing I won't do to achieve that. How about I show-"

"Enough."

Dottore froze upon your sudden command. He didn't sense a hint of subjugation and it seemed that you had perfect control of your emotions. How very inquisitive. Did you grow immune to the style of his voice? In such a short period of time? The facade he had on was now replaced with a growling animal-like expression. You looked at him dissapointedly. His Harbinger self returned. Hector was no more.

"Ha, you're the same as always. Even before the time you became a Harbinger. The same man that I fell in love with but it is me who will never be the same again," For a moment you averted your gaze as if trying hard to swallow your own words, "Remember when we first met at the balcony? That I told you my favourite books to read are fiction? I knew they weren't real but deep down, I wanted to believe in them anyways. And you know what? They did come true, to some degree..."

As the memories come flashing back, he defenselessly watches your expression contort from sadness to a calm contemplation and finally, enraged disgust, "But you only ever brought me pain and I'm sick of it!"

Swaying the torch to the side, Dottore flinches forward but he didn't dare to come close when your current state was unpredictable to him, "I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME," you wail, I just wanted to be loved, bringing a clawed hand against your forehead and trembling upon contact, "It's all that I ask for..."

Dottore narrowed his brows. Perhaps he may have gotten too far.

"But I know it's impossible. The world is a cruel place and there's no point in trying anymore. That is why I'm going to set us free."

"...What do you mean?"

You shut your eyes closed and tossed the flaming torch to the ground. A horrified expression takes over his features. It didn't take long for the fire to begin spreading amongst the room.

"NO!" Dottore yelled powerfully, he frantically darts his gaze at all directions as they continued to flicker and blend into his precious documents. You stood still and watched him grab the ones that were intact, savouring the most he could but they slip out of his arms every time he moved. Dottore glances behind him to see a rising cage of hellfire. Then he turns to you.

" 'Til death do us part!" you laughed maniacally.

The madman looked back with angry dismay, "You're out of your mind!"

Abandoning whatever he held in his hand, Dottore spins around towards the staircase. He covers his face with his sleeve and did whatever he could to prevent the fire from touching him. However, he accidentally stumbled on his footsteps and something fell off the heights, knocking him in the face. He grunts painfully.

"That will leave a scar," you smile while he clutches at his injury, "I can break you too.”

Just like how you broke me.

Knowing that you've managed to leave a mark of your existence on him in someway, you peacefully watched your lover wobble between the hell you created. But the hell you knew was not made of scorching heat and thundering flames. Hell was empty. Hell was a void. This feeling was far too gentle to be considered hell. If he can't return your love, then at least let these caging arms bask you in the warmth you’ve always desired.

Lifting your head, you looked towards the ceiling and closed your eyes.

Ah, this cannot be death.

424 notes · View notes

darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

Text

Brahms's Lullaby ~ Brahms Heelshire x Reader

Note: Why do I love Brahms? Fuck if I know. Anyway, this is what happens when a a meek, cute girl moves away from her old life to turn the page and find herself once again...And yet, her dark past quite literally comes back to haunt her.

'That's one huge manor...' Y/N thought to herself, the back of her neck straining as she scanned it from the bottom to the very top of the roof. The grip on her luggage tightened as she gulped in anxiety, and after taking a few deep breaths, she entered in this house, and immediately got greeted by the elderly woman who was the mistress of the house.

Y/N wasn't sure if it was her who was just nervous about the drastic change in her life, or if the woman was simply incredibly intimidating, but hey, as far as she was concerned, this woman won't be staying with her, so she will be all alone in the house, taking care of a child...How bad could it be?

Oh wait. Y/N hates children. They are so loud, bratty, obnoxious, entitled, rude...And the list could go on for ages, but she couldn't loiter in her mind any longer, and instead, she had to memorise where each room was, and what instructions the woman was saying.

She couldn't believe it, but she was glad she chose to wear a pair of comfortable sneakers, for she kinda got tired going up and down the manor...But what could she do anyway?

The kitchen got introduced to her, the woman told her to keep the leftovers in the freezer, told her about Malcom the delivery boy and how he's the only one allowed to bring her stuff. Weird, but what could she do? P'haps the child has a very strict routine that they must stick to, otherwise they'll feel weird and uncomfortable. Who knows?

And then, she showed her the music room, and while she wasn't paying much attention to the woman who turned on the music on the radio rather loud, Y/N looked around, inspecting the musical instruments, especially the piano, and the music sheets neatly displayed - "Brahms's Lullaby" it was called.

"Oh, is the child a fan of Johannes Brahms?" Y/N asked with a soft smile on her face, as she gently traced her fingers over the keys. "Yes, he is. In fact, the child is called Brahms." the woman spoke a bit sharply, looking her up and down with eyes that almost seemed...Judging, for some reason. "What a lovely name. When will I meet little Brahmsy?" she asked, and as soon as she used that nickname, the woman's jaw got set, and Y/N could swear she was gritting her teeth in anger at her. "...Brahms. His name is Brahms. You will meet him right now. Come on." the woman went on ahead and opened a room, where a doll was sitting in a chair, neatly dressed like a gentleman, while next to him, crouching, an elderly man, who she could only assume was the woman's husband, the master of the house. "Oh, my dear Brahms...This is Y/N, she is here to be your new nanny. Miss L/N, this us Brahms, and he will decide whether he accepts you or not." ...a doll? She...Has to babysit...A doll? Well...The pay is good, and she's veeeery far away from her old home, so...No new beginning happens within your comfort zone, right? "Hello, Brahms, it's great meeting you. I hope we'll get along well." with a sweet smile on her face, Y/N crouched down if front of the chair and took the little hand of the doll, shaking it carefully. "...Fine enough. Now, could you give us some time alone? Brahms will decide now." with that look on her face, while the old man looked at her with pity, and...Relief, maybe? Y/N exited the room, only to see a man standing in front of her, wearing an amiable smile. "Oh, hello there, you must be the new nanny. I'm Malcom, the delivery boy. Well, delivery man. Nice to meet you." very charming... "Ah, yes, I've heard about you. My name is Y/N, nice meeting you as well." she replied politely, although she could sense the flirt he was failing to put forward. "If you want, some day, I can show you around the town. It's small, but kinda pretty." he continued in the same manner, and Y/N replied with simple answers, until finally, the woman opened the door widely, with an even wider smile. "Brahms has decided that you are suitable to be his new nanny, congratulations." how the human behaviour can change so drastically, doing a whole 180, in a split second. "Thank you so much for accepting me, Brahms! I'm sure we'll get along well!" Y/N clapped her hands together to her chest in a cheerful manner, as the elder man left as well, allowing his wife some more farewell words with the doll. "Here, I made you a simplified list of rules you must follow. You don't have to wake up at 7 in the morning every day like my wife told you, but you must make sure all of these are taken care of, alright, miss L/N?" the man asked, handing her the paper which she attentively read. "Yes, of course, I will do as instructed without fail. Thank you for having trust in me with your dear Brahms. Have a lovely trip and I hope you get a well-deserved rest!" Y/N wished them, and for a split second, she almost thought the man's eyes flashed with shock and sorrow. What was going on anyway...? This family is...Peculiar, to say the least. Well, no matter, she will be paid weekly, and with the pretty generous amount she earned while working as a doctor, she should be able to afford anything she'd want, so she won't get bored.

And so, the Heelshires left, and she was all alone with the doll - Y/N decided to make her new bedroom to her liking, as much as possible, with Brahms sitting on a nightstand, as she was humming whatever tune that went in her mind, and swaying carefreely.

"You know, Brahms? I wasn't expecting you to be a doll. But frankly, I think this is better. Children are annoying...But you? You're really nice. And you're not loud or obnoxious. I think we'll be great friends." speaking to a doll...I guess that's how far in my loneliness I've gotten. Tragic, really...She thought as she realised how much of a crazy person she'd look like, were someone to see her. "Since it's already evening, let's go make some really good dinner, and then we can play the piano a bit? Maybe even watch a movie together?" she picked up the doll and went to the kitchen, and looking in the fridge, then at the utensils available, she put together a nice dinner, and put it split in two plates, one for her, and one for the doll, and to keep away the boring silence that hung painfully throughout the house, she put on some LoFi music on her phone, and ate, feeling more peace now than she ever did. "Hmmm...I know your mum told me to put the food in the freezer...But it's better eaten while still warm. I don't think you'll like it if it's stone cold...So, I'll leave it here, on the table, and see how it is. If you don't like it, and you want me to put it in the fridge, just tell me, and I'll do as advised." ...Just tell me? JUST TELL ME? Girl, are you out of your mind?! As if a doll could speak...

After she washed her plate, fork and knife, she picked up the doll once again, and went to the music room, putting the doll on the piano, and cracking her fingers, she let them glide over the claviature, creating a beautiful melody echo through the room, and maybe Y/N didn't realise, but she had a glowing smile on her face, and she visibly relaxed and felt at ease, as if she was flying through the fluffy clouds.

"I haven't done this in so long, I'm surprise I'm not rustier. I hope you liked it too, Brahmsy. Now, let's go to be. Do you want to sleep in my room? Come on, I'm a bit anxious to sleep by myself in this huge, creepy house." she mused as she got to her room, carefully putting the doll on her pillow and after going to the bathroom to change in her cutesy Unicorn Pusheen nightgown, and turning on her laptop, she put on Harry Potter, one of her comfort movies, and cuddling with the doll, she gave it a little kiss before getting engulfed in the story once again, and falling asleep without realising.

Everything was peaceful in the house in the morning, until Y/N reached the kitchen to make some light breakfast, only to find a paper on the table, with beautiful cursive writing in ink on it.

"Warm is better, thank you :) "

Frankly speaking, it freaked her our enough to get a panic attack and barricade herself in her room for the whole day, her bedroom locked and too afraid to leave that place for the whole day.

Oops.

After this, days on end, and then weeks passed by uneventfully, as Y/N took care of Brahms with no problem, Malcom came by to give her the groceries, the pay and anything that she'd order online, she'd chat with some old friends, would watch movies, would go out to plant flowers and tend to the garden, would dance around, happy to bask in the warm Summer sun, would read whatever books she likes, with the doll in her lap, and she realised that she never felt more relaxed and free in her life.

It was pretty cool not having to work for money, huh?

But one day, when she was out in the garden, barefoot and with a cute, flower dress on, her long, beautiful hair, accessorised with a colourful flower crown, and she was dancing to the music on her phone, she noticed a figure somewhere from the forest. It was unmoving, almost as if it was staring, and it startled Y/N. It startled and frightened her so much that she quickly picked up the doll and went inside the house, making sure all windows and doors are properly locked, and the drapes are closed, so nobody could get in.

That night, she kneeled on the bad, an upset frown on her face, as she felt her eyes watering slightly, looking down at the porcelain doll of the little boy.

"It's moments like this when I hoped you were human, Brahmsy. Not a child...But a man. I'm scared...I'm so scared...I don't like being alone. There was some creep outside in the forest, and it was staring at us. What do I do, Brahmsy? What am I supposed to do...?" as she felt a few tears streaming down her face, she sighed, hanging her head down, raking her fingers down her face in mild desperation. "...Who am I kidding, you're just a doll, you're not human. Why the hell do I even bother. I'm going to die here, sooner or later..." her voice was filled with dread and resignation as she got under the covers, clinging onto the doll as if her very life depended on it.

Since that very day, she continued seeing the silhouette of a tall man, standing there, menacingly stalking her every single day, from different places, until she heard the phone ring, and reluctantly, she answered.

"...Hello? Who is there...?" she muttered, gripping the phone anxiously, awaiting and answer. "You don't recognise the voice of the man that made you feel good every night?" her breath stopped completely hearing that awful voice she hoped never to hear again. Instead of answering, she slammed the phone down.

But it rang again.

And again.

Until it drove her mad and she disconnected it completely.

It wasn't like anyone would call her anyway, and if they wanted to contact her, then they could text her on her private phone, or on social media.

Why can't she just get some peace anywhere? She just wanted to get away from all hell she was put through at home...But now, it seemed like Hell was inclined to follow her to the ends of the world.

The stress and fright from this increased when she received multiple pictures of herself from either outside the house, or even inside, which is when she realised the stalked from outside was, in fact, the one who called her on the phone. It was her horrible ex.

And one horrible night, as she gripped on the doll to dear life, walking down the corridors of the huge manor, checking for the thousandth time that everything is locked tight, she heard a noise.

What was she supposed to do...? She couldn't run out of the house, everything was locked...And could she hide? Not really, she was sure he'd check all the rooms without fail.

So...What could she do except try to hide in her room?

She waited in her wardrobe, knowing very well that, if he were to get inside her bedroom, he would check every nook and cranny, but even so, she felt safer in a cramped, tight place, than outside in such an open room.

Mere seconds felt like outright centuries, she heard the door slam open, making her jump in fright, her hand to her mouth, so she'd muffle any sound she'd potentially make from her hyperventilating. She knew, it would be long before he checked the wardrobe, but gosh...The anticipation made her anxiety skyrocket.

Until it finally happened.

Y/N found herself being dragged from inside her safe place by the hair, thrown to the ground, but not once did she let go of the doll that became some sort of a comfort object for her.

"So that's where you were, Y/N! I missed you! It's been a while, hasn't it?" oh no, that overly sweet voice...It's nothing but poison. It was so bad that her bottom lip started quivering with fear as she tried to crawl away from there, but obviously, to no avail. "Wheeeere are you going, darling? Didn't you miss me? Come on, give me a hug!" he grinned, grabbing her and trapping her in his arms, and she couldn't help but tremble in disgust and fear as she felt his hands roaming in places it shouldn't. "Why aren't you talking to me? Why aren't you saying anything? Come on, let me hear you voice! ...DO SOMETHING, DAMN IT!" ah, his facade crumbled much faster than expected, and that aggressive scream in her face as he roughly pushed her in the wardrobe door made her whimper and wrap herself around the doll, trying not to let tears fall down her face and just...Praying for all this to be over...To be just a nightmare..."What the fuck is with that doll anyway? Why do you cling on it, and not on me? Give that here." but she didn't let go, and seeing how she was opposing him, he forcefully grabbed her face before slapping her before snatching away the doll from her arms. "Sheesh...It's so fucking ugly. No wonder you stay with this, it's the only thing that would stay with someone like you. So ugly, dumb, annoying...You should be grateful that I'm here! Nobody in this world wants you! You're worthless and you deserve nothing. Do you hear me? You ARE nothing! Better thank me nicely for coming all the way here for you! Nobody would bother doing ANYTHING for you!" he yelled at her, as she cradled her face, crying, but also fearing being seen crying, remembering how bad it would get. "Don't her Brahms...Please...Please don't hurt him..." she begged and pleaded over and over, but it only seemed to ignite more anger in his eyes. "You only beg me with that sweet voice of yours...To save your stupid...Thing? Really, Y/N? You're pathetic. You're stupid. You're disgusting. Fuck you and fuck your stupid doll!" and with that, the jerk started slamming the fragile porcelain doll on the wall, ignoring the desperate pleas from the girl. "NO! NOOOOOOOO! No....! Brahms, no...! What has he done to you..." Y/N crawled to the place where the doll's porcelain head was slammed apart, and she let tears fall over as, with shaky hands, she tried to piece together the overly-fragmented head, only to get pulled back by the hair and slammed on the ground, as he pushed himself upon her, his hands grabbing at her exposed flesh, her light nightgown offering close to no protection from the lecherous predator, and her weak, noodle arms, just like before, offered no resistance to his significantly stronger, bulkier built, and no matter how much she tried to fight back, she knew...She knew that struggling never helped, no matter how much she tried. It never did. And it only made it hurt more.

But then...Before she knew it, a loud noise, like that of an explosion, or destruction, came from somewhere in the room, startling the poor girl enough to make her scream in fright, while the predator jumped to his feet looking at the hole in the wall...

Only for a pair of hands to slowly creep out of the wall, tredging along the wooden walls, and then, a head wearing a porcelain mask creepily got out, followed by 2 legs and a body. It seemed to be a man, very tall - In fact, taller than her ex - , but while yes, his dramatic entrance startled the two, the man only got angrier, ready to fight the intruder, while the petite girl only got more frightened by the commotion, dragging herself in the safest corner of the room, shaking, guarding her head with both her arms, hoping again and again that this was all a nightmare, and it would end already - It was beginning to look so much more incredible, like a weird fantasy movie...This can't be real, right?!

"Y/N! Help me!" the voice of a child called out her name, almost strangled and desperate, and peeking at the brawl on the ground, she noticed her ex trying to strangle the stranger, whose head was leaning, his eyes fixated on hers.

He went out of the wall as soon as she got attacked...He was trying to protect her...Maybe? So...She got up, trying not to attract the attention of her ex, and taking ahold of the lamp on her nightstand, she brought it down hard against her ex's head, making him groan in pain...But he didn't fall. He didn't faint, like you see in movies. Instead, he got up, glaring at the meek girl and snatched away the lamp, throwing it away.

"You fucking bitch...Now you've done it." his voice was so dark that she was sure this was game over, so she bolted out of the room as fast as she could, but the labyrinthine house was impossible to navigate, and before she knew it, she found herself in a dead end, with no escape.

However, instead of seeing her ex with the wrath of a raging bull, she noticed the stranger slowly making his way towards her, his shoulder slouched, his dirty, once white, tank top now splattered with fresh blood, as is the rest of his outfit. But his hands were up, almost as if to say that he 'surrenders', as he stepped right in front of the trembling girl.

"Please don't kill me. Please don't hurt me. Please, please, please, I will leave you alone, I will go away, I will do want you want, please don't hurt me." even her voice was shaky, her arms crossed to protect her face, and her eyes closed in fear, so she didn't notice the curly haired man slowly crouching down in front of her, his head tilting slowly, before he gingerly grasped her wrists, pulling them away with such gentleness that she never knew. It was so weird for someone to be so careful with her body...With her...That she opened her eyes, doe-like, looking at the man's wide eyes that peered through his mask. "I am Brahms." but this time, his voice wasn't like that of a child, but not did it sound rough and hoarse, like her ex's. It was soft and delicate, masculine, but not too much. It was soothing. And what Brahms once saw to be the most frightened eyes, remembering how scared Bambi was when his mother died, yet now, they had more of a curious spark. "I won't hurt you. I promise. Don't leave." the once tense girl visibly relaxed under his touch, as he let go of her wrists and letting his knees touch the floor, he leaned forwards, between her legs, to get closer to her, and touched her face with both of his arms, wiping away her tears, surprised at how soft her skin was...Is it was a flower petal feels like? He remembers overly descriptive books where women are seen as different delicate things...A flower, a fawn, a butterfly, a nightingale, the Moon, and so many others...And he could finally understand why. "You are safe now." he continued, thinking it would make the girl smile, but instead, even more tears leaked down her face, and she threw her arms around his neck, bringing him closer to her, his body flushed to hers...And he stood there, stiff, shocked at the situation he was in.

What was he supposed to do now? Touch was so foreign to him...But he loved it so much! It was so warm, it made him happy! He wanted the girl to be closer and closer to him. He remembers what she did daily to his doll - What was it called...A cuddle? - Yes, he wanted that. He NEEDED that.

He hated that man touching her - He was hurting her - Only HE can touch her. He deserved to die. He deserved to fuck off. All he has to do is get rid of the body, and the rest can go on as it always has been - Except, instead of Y/N cuddling the doll, she will cuddle him every night, and she will kiss him.

"Thank you, Brahmsy. Thank you. Thank you so much." she continued thanking him over and over again, but he didn't answer. Instead, his hands slowly made their way on her waist, then went to the curvature of her hips, then to her thighs, and without any warning, he lifted her up, indirectly forcing her to glue herself to him even more - Not before hearing her cute squeal of surprise - And he carried her to one of the guest bedrooms, shivering a bit as he felt her warm breath on his bare neck - It excited him, but he didn't understand really what it was - But it was enough to make him bite his lip behind the mask and his grip on her thighs strengthened a bit, under the pretext of making sure she doesn't fall by mistake.

Luckily, he reached the bedroom and closing the door behind, he got in bed, holding her close as she stood in his lap, so close that he could feel her rapid heartbeat slowing down little by little. It was no misunderstanding, she was getting more and more comfortable around him. He was her protector, and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her ever again. She was his. Nobody else's. Only his.

They stood like that for a while, just holding each other and calming down, before Brahms turned the both of them to the side, and he hugged her tightly to his chest, playing with her hair, not letting her go for the whole night. His embrace was warm, and Y/N felt so safe - As never before, not even in her parents' home. She felt...Good.

The next day, she woke up still in Brahms's arms. She wasn't sure if he woke up or not, but she leaned to plant a soft kiss on the forehead of the mask, as she raked her fingers through his dark, curly hair, but before she knew it, a pair of arms wrapped around her torso, hugging her close to his chest.

"Good morning, Brahms. Did you sleep well?" her sleepy voice was so cute...He wanted to wake like this every day...As an answer, he merely nodded. "I'm happy to hear that. Come on, we have to eat breakfast, then take a shower...And after that, we can do whatever we want. Sounds good?" she asked, getting up and holding his arms, urging him to follow her. "No shower!" ah, the childish voice again, I see... "Then...How about I shower with you? I have some cute rubber duckies, if you want." she tried to appeal to his inner child, which seemed to pique his interest. "...Only if you wash me." he muttered, making the girl chuckle. "Okay, sure, sure. Let's eat something first. I think there's some milk and cereal." she remembered how much she loved to eat that every morning before going to school, when she was little.

She prepared two bowls and they ate in silence, until Brahms muttered that he wants to hear the music she usually puts when eating - And grinning at him, she put on LoFi music once again, which seemed to make the boy happy too.

After that, they went to the bathroom, and while Brahms waited for the tub to get filled, Y/N went to get the clothes in the washing machine, while getting some fresh clothes for the both of them. Apparently, he actually had other clothes, he just didn't want to bother washing or changing...For who knows how long...

As Brahms got in the tub, only briefs on, playing with the duckies, Y/N kneeled by the tub, taking the flower-scented showed gel and the sponge.

"Get in the tub too." Brahms put his arms on the tub edge, leaning his chin on them, looking at her attentively. "We don't have much space in the tub." she explained, but he had none of it. Instead, he rose from underneath the water, picked her up with a weird ease, and got her in the tub, not before splashing her, so her nightgown was soaked so she couldn't protest anymore. "...Fine, you got me. Let me clean you, then." she shook her head with a sigh as she heard him chuckle, gripping her wrists and pulling her to sit on his lap. Did he really like it that much, she wondered. "Can I shave your chest and neck, Brahms?" she asked as she trailed her hands over his chest, shoulders and arms, scrubbing with a sponge, one hand always finding its way on either her hip or her leg. The answer came in the form of a nod, and she reached to the sink to get a shaving blade and very carefully, making sure not to irritate his skin, or cut him by mistake, she cut down the overgrown, stinky, unwashed hair. In the end, his skin was finally clean and soft and smelling like roses and vanilla. "Let me sit behind you, I have to wash your hair." he seemed pretty exited, feeling her legs on either side of him, his head leaning back so her fingers could work miracles - He felt in heaven - He was so spoiled, and he loved every second of it. The shampoo smelled really nicely too, he had to admit. But her fingers massaging his scalp...Ahhh, it was so perfect, he was almost sure he'd fall asleep. "Let me wash you too!" he said, and in a split second, he could feel the girl's body stiffen, her eyes going wide, and her face...It was beginning to turn pink...? Was she...Blushing? "Ah, uhm...Well...Y-You can wash my hair, if you want?" she was stuttering! So cute! So cute, in fact, that he pinched both her cheeks, and they felt like marshmallows. "H-Hey, stop, that hurts." she pouted as he teased her. He loved that. "Yay!" Brahms cheered as he got her back glued to his chest, his hand gingerly tracing her neck, making her lean her head back, just as he did...But why did he like the sight of his hand wrapped around her neck? He didn't want to hurt her...But the visual was getting him feel weird things.

He followed the same routine as she did to him - Massaging her scalp, putting shampoo, rinsing, then this...Conditioner? Oh, it smelled nicely...And this is called...Hair mask? Ah, this is coconut scented! And she is smiling! She has a kitty smile! She looks like a cute little kitty!

After the bath time was over, Y/N wrapped him in a bathrobe, and while he wasn't paying attention, she quickly took off her nightgown and put another bathrobe on tying it tightly, and guiding the man back to their room, so she could use a hair dryer to dry both their hair, before brushing it neatly, so they could dress up...And he insisted she dressed in that cute, flowy, flower-patterned dress

"There, all good. What do you want to do now, Brahmsy? Do you want to go in the garden and see the flowers?" she asked, a bright smile on her face, both her hands holding his, and he could see her eyes were basically glimmering, pleading him to go out with her...But he hated the outside...Hmmm...

He grumbled a bit, but ultimately, he let himself be dragged outside - He hissed a bit, as if he was a vampire getting burnt by the sun, but after a while...He didn't find it that bad...? And the flowers in the garden were so pretty...!

"Hey, Brahms, take off your shoes and socks. Feel the grass. It will make you feel so calm and peaceful...Here, how do you feel?" she asked, intertwining her fingers with his. "It's...It tickles." he muttered, looking down and wiggling his toes to get used to it. "Come sit down with me. Watching the clouds is really relaxing." she said, helping him sit down, then laying on their backs. Instead of staying apart, however, Brahms pulled her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. "...But it's kinda boring..." he muttered, as he started kneading her arm up and down, massaging it from sheer boredom. "Look, Brahmsy, that cloud looks like a bunny, don't you think?" she put her finger up in the air, pointing to one of the clouds passing by. "Ah! You're right! And that one looks like a dragon! And that one looks like a butterfly! Look, Y/N, it's so pretty!" his boredom dissipated quickly and it got replaced by excitement instead - Very wholesome, the girl thought as she looked at the person next to her getting so happy over such simple things.

They stood outside until evening came, and they could watch the beautiful sunset, the sky painted with the most gorgeous shades there are. "Let's get inside, dear, it's getting cold. We don't want to get sick, right?" she smiled at him, only for him to hang his head down, and then he took off his cardigan and put it over her shoulders and pulled the girl between his legs, her back glued to his broad, warm chest and his embrace made her feel so warm and at ease. "Brahmsy...?" she asked softly, tilting her head up, before feeling his chin on top of her head, but she was met with silence. "The stars are pretty. You are pretty. Y/N is the prettiest, brightest star. Y/N is my star. I love my star." his soft voice was heard, almost whispery, and after a few more seconds, she felt the softest, sweetest kiss on her hair, then on her temple and on her cheek, before his chin found its place back on her head. "I love you, Brahms." she said, with teary eyes, intertwining her fingers to his, pulling his arms closer to her and squeezing his hands. "And I've never loved anyone more than I love you."

Needless to say, that comment made the man giddy and happy, for he, too, felt happiest now than he ever did before. When they felt tired, Brahms picked the girl up and got her back to their now shared room, dressed in their sleeping wear and cuddled, yet this time, Y/N was holding him, his head resting on her chest, as she played with his hair, soothing, and humming a lullaby to help him sleep.

It was Brahms's Lullaby.

#brahms #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms imagine #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms the boy #the boy imagine #the boy #the boy x reader #brahms heelshire the boy #brahms the boy x reader #slasher #slasher boyfriend #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher boyfriend imagine #slasher boyfriend x reader

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atinymonster · 3 years

Text

prank

ateez 9th member

when sunwoo decides to play a prank on jiyu as payback, but it backfires.

angst to fluff!! i repeat, angst to fluff!

➴ taglist: @banhmi07, @jiyeons-closet, @mochibabycakes, @marsophilia, @studioreader, @dkdlwhs12, @jaembluey, @atzaria, @skzfairies, @starlightjoong

➴ masterlist

[tiny princess 👑💗] sunwooo 🥺

[tiny princess 👑💗] sunnieeee 🥺

[tiny princess 👑💗] i see you reading these you know...

[tiny princess 👑💗] i’m sorry about the three things i love thing! :((

[tiny princess 👑💗] okay...i have a shoot now, but i’m sorryyy!

Sunwoo watched her messages appear on his phone with a mischievous chuckle, practically hearing her little whines through the phone. Truthfully, he wasn’t all that mad about that little incident on hello82 (although Eric can testify about how he sulked for a whole three hours straight), but he decided to mess with her a little as payback.

Sending back a short “okay” as a response, he tossed his phone next to him on the bed. Eric warned him to not take things too far just in case, but Sunwoo knew the limits. Surely Jiyu knew how deep his feelings ran for her, right?

Unfortunately, that’s where he miscalculated.

Seeing how short and simple his reply was, Jiyu frowned as her mind fell into a whirl of confusion and overthinking. Was he that mad? Did it really bother him that much?

But she couldn’t let it bother her for long since they had to go live for hello82 in a few minutes. Deciding to give him some space for the time being, she joined the boys on the couch, mustering up the best smile she could.

“Something wrong?” Wooyoung leaned over to whisper to her. He knew her expressions like the back of his hand—they all did—but Wooyoung happened to catch onto it first since the others were busy with preparations before the cameras turned on.

She shook her head. “Nope, nothing’s wrong, don’t worry about me,” she reassured, gently ruffling his hair in the process.

Whining about how she was messing up his hair, Wooyoung figured something did happen, and made a mental note to ask her again after filming ended.

For the whole 82 minutes, Jiyu felt her earlier uneasiness and damp mood improve as she played games (and died of laughter as she watched Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Wooyoung struggle to see out of the top of the cone hats). While she did have fun, the thought of earlier’s events still hung around the back of her mind. Every so often, she would go silent as she thought about Sunwoo’s dry and short responses.

Hongjoong even discreetly and gently nudged her in the middle of their drawing mini game since she had such a blank expression as she zoned out and stared into space. Fortunately, those moments of her spacing out went unnoticed by the camera.

But unfortunately, unbeknownst to her, Sunwoo was watching their live. He paid close attention to her mood and attitude. But seeing as how her zoning out was never caught by the camera, how was he supposed to know that his short responses already had that big of an effect on her?

After their encore of singing Wave, Jiyu returned her microphone before making a beeline for her phone. No new notifications. Biting her lip, she really started to worry. Usually, he texts her after any of her schedules, but there was silence this time around.

Coming back to their dorms, Jiyu fell into bed, exhausted from the day’s schedules. Staring at her phone, she hesitated on texting him again. Would she look too desperate? Would she be a bother? Should she just let him be?

“No, we promised to talk things out after last time,” she pumped herself up before opening her messages app and tapping on his name.

[tiny princess 👑💗] are you that mad about it?

Deciding to just get straight to the point, she slammed her phone onto the bed before silently groaning at her straightforwardness. What was she going to say if he said yes?

Ding!

[my sunshine ☀️❤️] what do you think?

Her eyebrows furrowed at his vague response. Why couldn’t he just give her a straight answer? It was a simple yes or no.

[tiny princess 👑💗] i said i was sorry...i really didn’t mean to leave you out!

[my sunshine ☀️❤️] uh huh

[my sunshine ☀️❤️] but was that an indirect message that you don’t love me anymore?

Sunwoo cringed as he sent off that message. He knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t break out of character so soon.

Jiyu, on the other hand, felt her heart ache at how he “perceived” her little mistake.

[tiny princess 👑💗] what? no!

[tiny princess 👑💗] it was an honest slip-of-the-mind!

[my sunshine ☀️❤️] but that means i’m not in your mind as often as i have you in mine...

[my sunshine ☀️❤️] just leave me alone in the mean time...i need time to think

Jiyu felt her heart throb. She didn’t think he thought so deep about it, she didn’t think it hurt him that bad (it didn’t in reality). Like her body was on autopilot, she grabbed a jacket before flying out of her room.

“I’ll be right back!” she shouted to the others, fumbling to quickly get her shoes on. She really hope they didn’t detect how choked up her voice was.

Hongjoong peeked out of his room. “Okay, stay safe and call us or manager-nim if you need a ride or anything!”

“Okay, bye!”

And with that she sprinted off in the direction of her boyfriend’s dorm. All the worst scenarios ran through her head at what he was going through. While she did assume that he wouldn’t get worked up over something that small, she failed to think that different people react differently. Maybe this did sting him in the slightest and she just never realized.

That couldn’t be any farther from the truth. Seeing as how she really did stop texting, Sunwoo bit his lip with worry. Did he take it too far and she was actually leaving him alone now? Not that he would blame her since he did sound a little too realistic and harsh, but did she really?

“Have any of you heard from Jiyu?” he loudly asked to get everyone in the dorm to hear. Hearing a collective “no”, he started overthinking. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last bit. Wait...what if she took that as I wanted a break from her?!

And it hit him like a ton of bricks at how his message could have a double meaning.

Quietly berating himself, he sprung out of bed and grabbed his jacket. He had to see her, despite him being the one to tell her he “wanted time alone”.

But right before he opened his room door, he heard a familiar voice outside at their front door. And she sounded so choked up.

“Hi...is Sunwoo here?” Jiyu meekly asked Changmin when he opened the front door.

Changmin noticed her red-rimmed eyes. “Eh? Are you crying?” he asked, not loudly, but loud enough for the whole dorm to hear, including Sunwoo.

Sunwoo’s eyes widened. Had she been crying because of him? Running out of his room and out to the living room, his heart shattered when he saw Changmin ushering Jiyu inside. Slightly red eyes, heavily breathing as if she had ran there—he really regretted everything right there and then.

Gently taking her wrist in his hand, he dragged her to his room, away from the prying eyes of the others who were utterly confused at what was happening. All except Eric, who internally sighed at how Sunwoo didn’t seem to heed his warning.

The moment she heard the door lock, she immediately tackled the boy in a hug, letting all her tears spill out and onto his hoodie. Her little sobs were thankfully muffled by the thick material.

Sunwoo wrapped his arms around her shaking body as he gently shushed her sobs. He comfortingly rubbed her back, walking backwards towards his bed before sitting down and pulling her to sit on his lap.

“Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, stroking her hair.

“I didn’t think it bothered you that much,” she sniffled, hiccups interrupting her every other word or so.

Sunwoo felt guilt pool in his gut, but he had to tell her the truth. “It didn’t...I just wanted to get back at you and mess around for a little. I didn’t think it’s blow up like this, though...”

He felt a sharp smack on his chest. Yelping out, he looked down and made eye contact with her tear-filled eyes that were glaring up at him. “Kim Sunwoo!” she reprimanded, “Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you were actually hurt!”

“Hmmm, I know I’m sorry,” he apologized again, hoping to soothe his crying girlfriend. “Please stop crying, I already apologized,” he cooed, running his fingers through Jiyu’s hair.

Perhaps his little prank had been taken a little too far for her to be crying and clinging onto him like a koala.

“And I apologized for my slip up about the three things I love, but that didn’t stop you from doing all that, now did it?” she weakly retorted, pausing between every few words from her sniffles.

The way she looked up from burying her face in his chest made Sunwoo feel a little twinge in his heart. Her teary eyes made his lips pull downwards into a pout. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t make her cry ever again after their last fight, but he never thought he’d unintentionally break that promise. Heck, when she showed up at their front door about to break down into tears, he knew his joke had gone overboard.

Endless whispers of “I’m sorry” fell from his lips as he rested his chin on top of her head and rocked the both of them from side-to-side on the bed. Feeling her arms tighten around his torso, he quickly placed a peck on her head.

“I got really scared, you know…” she mumbled, pulling back to rub her red eyes. “I thought you were really about to—”

“Lovebug, I would and could never,” he interrupted, holding her hands in his to stop her from rubbing her eyes. “You should know by now that I can’t function properly without you around,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

“But—”

“I know what I said was a little overboard for a joke, but I swear on my life that I’d never ever tell you that in an actual situation. I’d never be that childish or petty.” Rubbing his thumbs on the back of her hands, his heart leapt when he felt her grip tighten on his hands.

“Promise?” she sniffled, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes and holding out a pinky to him.

Linking his pinky with her’s, he leaned in and stole a kiss. “I promise. I’d never leave you behind.”

Seeming satisfied with his answer, she returned back to snuggling in his arms. Feeling his chest rumble as he chuckled, she nuzzled her face deeper into his hoodie.

“Wanna go out and get ice cream?” he asked. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting for your schedule tomorrow? I feel bad I came here unannounced, and you can always make it up another time—”

“Being with you recharges me anyway,” he childishly defended. “And this’ll haunt me for God knows how long if I don’t see you smile or laugh for the rest of the night…”

“Promise you won’t get too tired tomorrow during your schedules then?” a small smile spread across her lips as she reached up and lightly pinched his cheeks.

He nodded, an excited little “mhm!” coming from him. “Let’s go, then!”

Now the boys were confused at the couple’s mood and vibe change when they came bursting out out Sunwoo’s room. Didn’t Jiyu come looking like she was about to burst into tears?

“We’ll be back!” Sunwoo quickly informed them before closing the front door.

“...I’m not the only one confused, right?” Chanhee finally asked the question that they all had.

“Nope...” came their collective response.

Walking down the sunset-lit street, bucket hats and masks covering their faces, Jiyu and Sunwoo’s connected hands swung in between them as they were surrounded by a comfortable silence. The sound of cars and people occasionally passing by, along with an occasional comment or giggle from one another, filled the air.

“I’m really sorry,” Sunwoo apologized once more while squeezing her hand.

Shooting him a small, comforting smile back, she started walking faster, dragging Sunwoo along. “Then you can buy me all the ice cream I want!” she teased, looking back at him with a radiant smile.

Despite, her semi-red eyes and nose (the redness went down a lot) and how the majority of her face was concealed by the mask and hat, Sunwoo still thought she was the prettiest with how the wind combed through her new rosy-colored hair, how the sun perfectly outlined her figure from behind, and most importantly, how happiness brightly shined through her eyes.

And he planned on keeping things that way.

“I guess...even if it means going broke,” he joked, earning her melodious laughter in response.

“I love you!” he uttered like a happy little puppy.

“Love you, too sunshine,” she replied, her smile growing ever more so bright.

144 notes · View notes

beann-e · 3 years

Text

Arranged Marriages With Stoic Guys

female pronouns used for this one !

“ y/n you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to “

“ are you stupid of course I have to “ you snapped at your father who stood hovering over you a slight smirk on his face “ eh thought you’d want to hear what you wanna hear “

you scoffed trying to push his arm off your shoulders this was all stupid you didn’t want to do any of this

“ honestly i’m doing what’s best for you y/n you need this — we need this “ he sighed “ I mean don’t you want to help your family and yourself think about how well set up you’ll be “his eyes went stone on yours “ you need this “

you flinched at the way his sureness slipped into his tone there was no way you were gonna get out of this “ no you need this there is no we right now “

his face hardened as he held out his arm for you to grab “ shut up and grab my arm “

“ i’m not going out there with you “

“ yes “ his voice was threatening and quiet “ you are “

“ I said im no— “

“ look you’ve been weighing this family down for years yet, we’ve said nothing— and now you finally have the chance to help us — to show you belong in this world and you won’t ? are you serious “

His face flew up into a look of annoyance “ you have no other purpose than to help us that is why you were born to be shoved into a family rich enough to secure your own and your families needs and now you mean to tell me you don’t want to do what you were created for “

your mouth snapped shut at his claims

“ are you that disgusting that you can’t even help your family “

you felt your body go cold as he continued to press into you

“ you preach how we’re the bad people yet you do evil shit like this“

he scoffed looking down on you “ i feel nothing but pure disgust to even have to go out there and call you my daughter “

he shook his head in disappointment before putting his arm out for you to grab again “ grab it “ his voice raised “ and you better go out there and put on that glorious look of innocence his father liked “

you gulped as he directed you quickly out the doors and draped the piece of fabric that you wore on your head. Placing it over your eyes and walking you down the aisle that had been so beautifully decorated

you were suppose to be getting married today not that you wanted to but, you had to.

you were the only girl in a family full of knuckle headed boys who just weren’t smart enough for an arranged marriage.

This was your fourth time being close enough to being married off though you hated the other 2 there was one that stuck out to you and that was number three

Your third boyfriend was one your family never liked they saw him as disgusting, vile, and too dirty with his language.

To you he was caring and open and rarely ever talked too harshly to you as long as you managed to never piss him off. You were happy with him and he was the only one you could ever see yourself settling down with until he told you He would take care of you and only you.

That was the nail in the coffin when you brought him over to dinner one night and out of the blue he spoke loudly so everyone could hear him “ look — with this whole marriage thing when I do marry your shitty daughter “

his eyes coming over to look at you and sending a look of reassurance your way making sure you knew he didn’t mean it. Them falling back to look at everyone around the dinner table who moved comfortably in their seats not caring how he talked to you as long as they would get to live lavish

“ i’m not taking care of you guys “ he scooped up the leftover food on his plate “ i’m only going out of the way for her and her only — the rest of you are on your own “

he shoveled the food in his mouth speaking carefully and making sure to watch his words knowing how serious he had to be with them in order for him to be heard by your parents “ you guys are using her for money and I don’t like that i’m not taking care of shitty parents and two brothers who act like they can’t even tell me how to spell yen “

him laughing and turning to your eldest brother a small smile on his face “ hey jerk face “

“ uh huh “ your brothers body wiggled in excitement to be acknowledged “ what’s up “

“ spell yen for me real quick “

“ babe don—“

“ shutup needa prove a point for your asshole parents “

“ hmmm “ your brother thought out loud as your other one jumped in the conversation “ hey dude what’s yen anyways “

your boyfriends mouth flying open as he slammed his hand on the table “ actually scratch that — i’m gonna pay for them both to go to elementary school and be two tall ass bodyguards that talk and say dumb shit like this to scare the kids into learning “

he pushed himself out of his chair kissing you softly before leaving the room. The door slamming as your father followed him anger swirling off his body at not only your boyfriends attitude for not wanting to help them but for coming in his house and making a fool of his family

you never got any of what your third boyfriend promised because he never got the opportunity to come back and your father made sure to have you cut off all contact with him.

So lucky you

free wedding , new guy

“ smile “ you felt your face do what you were told immediately as your feet shuffled down the aisle anyone could tell this was painful or at least anyone who actually knew you and not the 100 paid citizens of japan who sat in your wedding chairs

The guy you were marrying is a hero so, you can see how easy this is for him to pay for. He had to keep this little ordeal in the papers but only so, his father could stay relevant or at least that’s how they explained it to you no one explained that this was your e—

“ y/n“ your fathers voice was sharp “ take his hand“ you blinked finally realizing you were at the end of the carefully laid out carpet “ pay attention don’t make us look stupid “

you smiled carefully at the male before you dragged your foot stepping up and using his outstretched hand across from you “ thank—thank you “

it was silent which you immediately understood you knew he felt no need to talk to you ‘ maybe he’s not that into talking in public maybe he’s a private kind of person ‘

yeah he was so private that he said nothing but his I do’s and his occasional mhmm’s when you tried to get to know him with this continuing all night you never got to. This was all set up between his father and your own. you and him had no knowledge you were getting married today from what your father told you

“ so how— how is hero work “ you questioned as you two sat in the busy hall waiting for the doors to open up to allow people outside into the courtyard for pictures “ I hear you are one — a hero I mean “

you looked up to him as he faced forward his mouth making no attempt to move “ what really no it’s that hard ? “ you looked off speaking to yourself “ wouldnt think hero work could ever be hard“

“ did i just witness you ask and answer your own question “

your body shook as you felt heat rise up in your body your temperature high hands starting to feel sweaty “ oh uh “

“ if we have to get you checked for mental health problems i’d like to do so early “ he never broke his gaze from in front of him even when the doors opened “ I do not want to wake up with a knife to my chest or walk in on you talking to your imaginary friend after work “

you face dropped you understanding you were getting no where in communication with this man. You grabbed his outstretched hand and let him weave you carefully through the many people you didn’t know finally he stopped only to grip your hand tightly “ don’t move and wait quietly please“

you nodded your head as you watched him talk to the photographer guessing they were discussing where you were gonna take your pictures

“ hello there y/n “ you heard a booming voice say turning around only to bump square into a hard chest

“ or should I say daughter in law “ his voice scared you it was something about the way he was so sure of himself something felt wrong here

“ oh um do I— I know you “

“ of course you do “ he pointed to your new husband smiling “ you married my son an hour ago “

you shook your head uncomfortable with being left alone with now not only one person you didn’t know but also two plus a room full of people you couldn’t even name “ excuse me if I seem a bit “

“— lost , ditzy, bimbo like “

“ w-what bimbo? excuse me “

“ it’s ok as long as your quirk is as good as your father tells me I am fine with your intelligence level not being up to par my son is fully equipped with the knowledge to take care of a woman and provide like a man should “

“ I-“ you thought for a moment deciding on if you should go all out on the male that stood before you retracting into yourself when you thought of your father

“ oh y/n i know — it’s the bimbo tendencies? yeah here i’ll make it easier for you is there something you wanted to say“

you flinched at the statement smiling and presenting yourself happily as he smirked down on you ‘ he knows what hes doing ‘

“ no no nothing at all “ you said feeling his large hand pat you on your back “ good girl— get over there my sons kinda dense when it comes to talking to people “

you smiled to hold all the hostility in your voice “ yes i’ve seen so much of his density in our one hour together I find myself wondering how he can provide for me without proper communication skills “

the males eyebrow raising at your ability to speak back to an elder “ hmm he suffers with interaction due to lack of affection— childhood trauma as people your age like to say “

his smile tight and not fully reaching his ears “ I do expect that you’ll show him the proper amount of affection no matter if you got dragged into this or not “

you turned on your heel leaving the annoyed male to his own thoughts your hands coming up to interlock over your new ‘husbands’ shoulders “ hi shoto “

he bristled at your touch his shoulder moving to drop your hands as he pretended to stretch his arm in a small circle side eyeing you carefully alerting you to not touch him without permission again before he turned back to the male in front of him voice low “ I do not understand why I cannot take the photos the way I want to “

“ your father sai— “

“ their my spouse ? “ he was direct with everything he said “ it’s my wedding “

you could feel the questioning in every word he said voice low almost threatening the male in front of you “are you going to believe a 90 year old geezer who just found out beating kids is wrong or are you going to believe your beloved pro hero ? “

you could hear the teasing he held at the very end that even made you want to move just as fast as the photographer in front of you and follow after him

“ how do you want to take the photos y/n “ Shotos eyes looked down on you expectedly as you shook your head in confusion ‘ how did I end up picking our poses he wanted to change the generic one that was preplanned‘

you looked into his face as his eyes morphed into a look you couldn’t quite figure out “ i’m guessing you did this for me ? “

he shook his head slightly “ oh so you thought I would want something different from the basic ph— ok um “ you smiled as you turned to the front “ can we just do a um — maybe a hug but he hugs my waist that’s always a pretty marriage picture “

you moved to look back at him as the photographer agreed shoto moving carefully to stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist hesitantly “ you can — it’s ok “ you felt as his shaky arms snaked around and sat in the spot that you guided them to your arms moving over them as your hands tried to soothe his jumpy ones

“ hey calm down “ you laughed “ just a picture — not me waging war on you family “

he looked down on your smiling face his own going through so many emotions not able to tell which one he wanted to show “ at least not the rest of them — your father maybe “ he watched as you turned back around the camera clicking as a genuine look of interest for you passed over his face

“ do you guys want to take another one “

“ um I think we’re good he doesn’t um— he doesn’t seem like a photo- e guy and i’m not very photogenic “

the photographer shook his head in understanding letting out a sigh of relief that he held as you moved to walk off your husbands grip tightening on you “ hey I — you can let go now sh— “

“ do you remember earlier “ he questioned “ when I told you to stay put “

your body flamed as you knew you’d done something wrong immediately feeling like you should try to defend yourself

“ why did you walk off “ his eyebrows furrowed “ how — why did you disobey orders “

“ I just—- I didn’t — your father— he — he came up and he— “

“ either way you didn’t listen you moved from the spot I placed you in” his eyes were staring holes into yours daggers really “so no matter who spoke to you — you were in the wrong “

“ I — it’s my body I can move “

“ yes you can in the spot I placed you “

“ I don’t even know you I don’t have t— “

“ that’s how it works “ his voice roared looking to the ground eyebrows furrowed as he was trying so desperately to understand you “ that is how it works in a marriage you listen to me —when I tell you to do something you do it and when I tel— “

“ no it’s not what — I” your face made up in confusion “ who told you these things —- this is ? i’m not a kid I am your wife now—we’re on two equal playing fiel— “

“ no “ you gnawed at your lip as he waited for a rebuttal seeing as though you had been answering him back after everything he said standing up straighter when he seen your tightly closed mouth “ i’m done with this argument I was just curious of something and you answered it “ he unwrapped himself from your body and turned to leave tugging at his suit

you not knowing wether to follow him or leave him be choosing the first option when he turned over his shoulder and stopped his movement

voice coming out short you were so confused with your new ‘husbands’ behavior he expected almost everything from you as if you could read his mind without words “ sorry — sorry “

he shook his head in understanding as he went to get his car from the valet opening the door for you as he opened his own getting in and setting himself up properly for a nice drive

your back hitting the seat hard when he took off your mind racing thinking this may be punishment for your words and anger towards him earlier.

‘ maybe he’s gonna play fast and furious while i’m In the car to get me to shut up ‘

“ I do not intend to scare you if that is what you are thinking “

he looked into his side mirror as he got over into another lane “ but I do intend to build structure where I see there is none “

you knew you should be quiet right now is not the time to fight for your rights in this new relationship not when he was driving like he’d never heard of a car accident

“ and I am not sure about you but I do feel right now is the best time to set that in place seeing as though I don’t know you and I doubt you even want to know me “

he waited on your answer “ when I stop talking that signifies you may speak “

“ sorry yes— no I do want—want to know you “

“ that’s interesting “ he sat back in the drivers seat as he eyed the road carefully slowing down a bit when taking in your answer “ i’d like to think that we were both forced into this “

“ ye-“

“ but that is simply not true “

your eyes refused to blink “ neither of us were “ he slowed the car down even more as he pulled into an underground parking garage “ you were handpicked by myself because I was asked to find a spouse to spark some uproar in the headlines or else i’d lose my title of number three hero and I am not too keen on giving that up right now with my father being number four and only living to climb the ranks “

he turned his car off as he turned to you “ i do not want to give him that enjoyment— “ he sighed “ you are not necessarily wanted nor needed— the only thing I can ask of you is to uphold this facade out there and i will give you and your family— everything i originally signed to in the contract“

he opened his car door as he stood fixing his suit again “ in here — my house you either follow my set of rules or you will be asked to leave and id honestly hate to ask you to leave “

you heart fluttered so he was interested in you

“ because then i’d have to talk to the media and I do hate when they ask me questions they have the material to supply themselves an answer with “

you heard the slam of the car door as you got out yourself hearing the two beeps from his car when locking it following him up the stairs as your eyes blinked several times

no no

you followed him up the elevator images flashing In your mind as you looked to the buttons remembering the number all too clear as he stepped out and onto the floor opening the door to the pent house your sweaty hands fiddling with the bottom half of your dress

“ shoto”

“ todoroki inside please my love — also “ he moved to his kitchen stripping off his jacket “ baby goes for me —my love goes for you in or out I don’t care — but do not overuse it �� you will only annoy me “

you smiled softly trying to rush to ask your overwhelming question that was buzzing around inyour mind “ baby do you um— by any chance do you happen to have a rooma — “

“ who the fuck left the door open “ you heard the voice your ears had missed so much your body wanting to drop to the floor after hearing it “ shitty icy hot always coming in places and just leaving shit open— it’s like you don’t even know privacy “

“ well that is true I have never been awarded such thing as privacy I was off throwing up on tile after a long hard restless day of beatings “

“tch always so quick to spill your shitty trauma — wheres the bitch you set yourself up to marry “ he scoffed as you heard him nearing the kitchen “ marry for hire I mean “

shoto nodded as if the male could see it closing his fridge making his way over to you pushing you to follow him towards the loud deep voice “ she’s here actually though she’s going to be busy in a moment — you’ll have some time to meet her afterwards I promise “

“ god — if it goes on all night I swear — still can’t believe you hired some weird bitch to marry you and the whor—holy fuck “

Your eyes rose to meet his as you saw the tall blond drop his grenades he held in his gloved hands the loud clang echoing throughout the house “ my god I do ask bakugou if we’re going to stay together due to the department , that you do watch how you mess up our house , you have free range to destroy anything you want inside your own room “

“ shut —shut the fuck up ice tray“ his eyes narrowed on yours as he pointed at you “ this is the — the bitch you went to marry today — the one you picked out “

“ yes — I — is there a problem “ shoto turned to look you up and down “ though I did suspect some mental health challenges earlier i’m sure you can’t notice them up front right “

bakugous body shivered as he took a step back from you his body prepared to run

“ bakugou i’ve never seen you this “ your grip tightened on your dress pulling it up in the back hand dipping low to grab at your cell phone knowing you would have to call for help if he decided to be the bakugou you knew and kill you your ears listening closely as shoto spoke “ this afraid it’s quite eventful “

“ you— you dumbass “ he kept his eyes on you “ get the fuck out this isn’t the place for you— go back to your run down shitty cottage or something “

shoto stood confused as bakugou ran to grab you his hand tight on your arm his body stopping eyes made up in sadness face dropping as he felt himself wanting to scream and cry all at the same time. Hand only gripping harder onto your figure

“ what is the meaning of this —- I find this disgustingly rude — bakugou “

he shook his head eyes dropping to the floor your heart breaking he won’t even look at you that’s how bad your father screwed things up for you

Him pushing you away from him and towards the door as he spoke low hurt and pain ripping through his voice “ she’s gotta go “ his body moving to walk away “ now “ he screamed “ unmarry her or some shit—I don’t wanna see that bitch when I come back out here “

“ katsu— “

“ don’t you dare say my name not like that not with tears in your fucking eyes and sounding all sad and shit the last time you said it was the best time dont make me forget that shit “

your body shook in fear as his eyes weighed heavy on you shotos voice pouring out “ god bakugou please what are you saying your just being a bit of an— excuse my language my love but an — asshole aren’t you ? “

his body stalling when he thought back to a few moments ago “ wait how — how do you know his name “

your heart broke as you looked between the two men.

Just your luck that you would have to choose between a man who would most likely give you nothing but pure gentle love and supply your family the same only for one small thing in return or one that you missed so much every night you went to sleep

then again you would have no choice but to be married to someone that you’d already signed away your life to in a binding contract that stated your family and yourself would be very well taken care of and who were you to choose love over protection ?

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 11 ~Suspicious Minds~

Picture Edit by melodyheart

Previously in The Art of Non-Communication ...

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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Claire hurriedly made her way to Slater's Arms to meet Tom Christie. They'd arranged earlier to meet at the pub after he'd dropped her off at the village centre to do her errands, so she was surprised to see him waiting outside. After exchanging a hurried cursory hello, he allowed him to guide her through the half-filled bar, his hand ever so lightly touching her elbow. They were greeted by a string of boisterous sallies from the locals, to which Tom good-humouredly responded with a couple of wisecracks of his own . It was becoming pretty clear they were in his local haunt and was well-liked by its patrons. But she also suspected there could be whispers going around, wondering what she was doing with him. Despite those thoughts, she kept her head up, and a smile plastered to her face.

After navigating through the narrow maze of tables and chairs, they opted for an empty space by the window, away from the bar where a heated football discussion was just about to begin. They simultaneously slid into their seats, sitting opposite each other, his lopsided grin and lax manner putting her immediately at ease. He was seemingly oblivious to the curious stares around them, but Claire paid no heed to the attention they were garnering and pushed her earlier encounter with Jenny away from her mind. This was a professional meeting, a welcome distraction even though it was proving an impossibility not to picture Jamie across from her. Suddenly missing Jamie, she allowed her thoughts to momentarily drift and wondered what he was up to.

"Hey."

Claire snapped out of her reverie. "Huh?"

"I asked if ye're hungry."

"Oh! Well, I'm not sure," she murmured, squinting at the specials scrawled on the blackboard hanging behind the bar. "Sort of, I guess."

"Sort of?" he laughed. "What kind of answer is that?" He passed her a menu. "Here. Ye ought to try their haggis tweeds. They have the best in this area."

She snorted, taking the menu card and skimming through it. "Really? I've never met a Scot who liked haggis, and yet every one of you lot I've met recommends it to non-locals."

"Aaahh," he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "To be honest, I dinnae like haggis myself when cooked the traditional way. But the haggis tweeds are different ...more palatable. They're rolled into balls, breaded and deep-fried. I'm quite sure ye'll like them."

"Hmmm ..." When she glanced up from the menu, she met his thoughtful gaze. Though smiling, he had an odd expression on his face. "Wot?" She smoothed her hair, thinking it must be all over the place. She dreaded what her hair looked like after being caught in the rain earlier on. She wished now she'd tied it back before leaving the cottage. "Anything wrong?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Just noticing ye dinnae look as upbeat as ye sounded on the phone the first time we talked. I was expecting ye to be more excited about selling me the idea of publishing my travel book. Ye kinda look as if something is bothering ye. Is anything the matter?"

She let out an exhale and placed the menu down. "I'm sorry. I've just had a rough day."

"Boyfriend problem?" he asked slowly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. Friendly as Tom was, Claire wasn't prepared to share any details of her personal life. "I just have a lot of things going on, and then you threw me out of the loop," she explained, not wanting to lie but not wanting to over-share either. "I was caught off-guard when you phoned earlier, and I wasn't expecting your call until, at least, sometime next week."

"Ye could've told me to meet at a later date. I wouldnae have minded."

"No! Today is fine," she assured him quickly. "I'm probably slowly weaning from the fast pace of hectic schedules in London, that at the first sign of change, I stumble a bit."

He grinned. "Weel, whatever is bothering ye, I dinnae like you looking so downcast. Maybe we can do something about it right now and tell ye a bit of good news. To cheer ye up."

"I like good news ..." she remarked, perking up, guessing he probably had a new picture or post on his blog he wanted to show.

"That's much better," he said when he caught a hint of a smile forming on her face. "As I was saying, I have a bit of good news. I've been giving your proposition a lot of thought ..." he shifted on his seat and took a deep breath. "I've decided I want to go ahead and publish my travel blog in print."

She blinked and swallowed before finding her voice. "But you haven't seen the projected sale and all the ..."

He waved a hand. "I'm quite sure after that impressive pitch over the phone, yer projected whatever and other wotnots ye wish to go over with me will be just as equally convincing. The idea is sold, and I'm on board."

"Just like that?"

He nodded his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Aye. Now that I've met ye in person, I'm pretty confident ye'll make sure I'll get a fair deal for my book. I'm a good judge of character, and I trust ye'll do what's right."

"Of course."

"So it's settled."

"Well, that's ...that's fabulous," she breathed, her mind rushing in all sorts of direction.

"This calls for a celebration, don't ye think?" he smiled, waving at the waitress.

Before Claire could reply, her purse vibrated. She pointed an index finger at Tom. "Hold that thought." She opened her bag and grabbed her phone. It was her boss, John Grey.

"Oh, hi, John! I'm in the middle of ..."

"Claire, I'm sorry to dump this on you," John said rapidly in a panicky tone. "Mary Hawkins just phoned and said she expects you to pick her up at Inverness Airport."

"Wot?!? But how? Why?" She glanced at Tom and noticed a light frown lining his brows. "She hasn't been answering any of my emails. What the hell is she doing in Inverness?" She knew it wasn't professional to be discussing another author over the phone with a potential client in front of her. But it couldn't be helped. At the moment, she was far too agitated to care. Mary Hawkins, the publishing's star author, had been elusive ever since she disappeared to France, and she'd been the reason Claire had decided to take a break in Scotland only to be given another job in the form of Tom Christie. "Please don't tell me you sent her here. I have enough on my plate as it is." She gave Tom an apologetic look, to which he just shrugged and smiled in understanding.

A frustrated sigh came from John. "I swear to God, this isn't my doing. She arrived yesterday here in London, and when she demanded to start work right away on her book, I assigned another editor. But she wouldn't have it. She insisted on working with you. So I told her you're in Inverness doing another project. And then she called a few minutes ago, demanding you pick her up at the airport. I swear I didn't know she was planning on flying to Inverness."

Oh, God! "John!" she whined. "I can't just drop everything and pick her up. I'm an editor, not a chauffeur! I'm in the middle of talks with Mr Christie."

"I'm terribly sorry for this mess, Claire but, isn't there anything you can do? Your boyfriend, perhaps? You know how Hawkins is a big deal for the company."

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Claire felt she was being put in a position she didn't want to be in. On top of it all, her uncle would be arriving in two days, and there was the added worry she had with Jamie and potentially Jenny. The day was definitely getting worse by the second, but Claire reminded herself she was John's only hope, and he was a friend and had always been good to her. When she finally had the strength to open her eyes again, Tom mouthed something she couldn't quite catch.

Wot do you mean? She mouthed back, shaking her head.

"Claire, are you still there?"

"Yes!" she snapped, tamping down the urge to curse. "I'm here!"

"Well?"

She let out a frustrated breath. There was no way out of it. "Fine, John! But you owe me big time! I'll see what I can do." Damn it!

"You're a star!" John said, relief lacing his voice. "I knew I could rely on you. I'll text Hawkins to let her know you're on your way, and then I'll text you her private number. I don't think you'll have that. It's one of the reasons you couldn't get in touch with her. Anyway, let me know later how you get on."

Before she could answer, the line went dead. What the bloody hell just happened?

Claire dropped her head into her hands and groaned. She wanted to bawl, throw stuff and pull her hair out in frustration.

"Problems?"

She raised her head and looked at Tom. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. I have to cancel our meeting. I need to somehow get to Inverness and pick up this author I'm working with." Without going into too many details, Claire quickly explained her predicament, almost forgetting to breathe. By the time she finished, she was gasping for air and wondering if Tom understood what the hell she was on about. "As you can see, I probably have to organise her accommodation as well. So I really must get going." She stood up and grabbed her bag. "Raincheck?"

He got on his feet as well. "Look, I'm not doing anything for the rest of the day. How about I drive you to Inverness. I can even help you set her up."

"Tom, you don't have to."

"Hey, I'm about to get a book deal from your boss. Let me at least prove to ye what a perfect travel guide I am as I've portrayed on my blog."

Claire stopped to collect herself. On second thoughts, she did need Tom's help, and she couldn't well impose on Willie to drive her to Inverness when he'd been taking time off to check up on her ever since Jamie left. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone and talk him through his own book's publishing process on their way to the airport. It was a brilliant idea, and hopefully, by the end of today, John would be able to draw up a contract for Tom. With a resigned smile, Claire appreciatively accepted the offer. "Alright then, but we do need to get going now."

"Absolutely. We'll go through the back door." When Claire looked at him curiously, he grinned. "I've parked the car in the staffs' parking lot. I'm good friends with the owner, so I get the privilege to walk through the kitchen and use the backdoor," he explained. Then he leaned closer to her ear and spoke in a low voice. "And if the chef is in a good mood, he might allow us to taste today's menu."

Claire laughed out loud, attracting attention from the pub's clientele. She ignored the curious stares. It was good to laugh again after the last couple of days of feeling down, and she owed it to herself to steer negativity and worries from her thoughts. "We'll stop by the cottage to get some clothes. Knowing my client, she'll probably want to stay in a posh hotel in Inverness and want to start working right away. She doesn't do bed and breakfast or small places. So I doubt she'll want to come to Broch Mordha."

Tom nodded with a smile as he took her hand and lead the way.

Heading to the back of the pub, Claire made a few mental notes on what she needed to take with her. She also reminded herself to message Willie about taking care of Rollo and Adso while she's away, hoping he would think nothing of it when he hears from the village gossip of her meeting with Tom.

...........

Jamie caught Willie's livid expression before the car started, and they were driving down the small country lane. He knew his brother was miffed with Ian, who'd sped ahead of them after revealing Claire's whereabouts with Christie. Though common sense told him he had nothing to be worried about, it had been still a punch in the gut to hear Claire was out with another man.

"Can ye speed up a bit?" Jamie muttered, shifting restlessly on his seat.

"We're not in a bloody motorway, and there are speed limits for a reason," Willie growled, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "And it will do ye a lot of good to use this time to calm down before we reach Claire. It's obvious ye're not thinking clearly."

Jamie almost wished he'd taken a ride with Ian instead. They couldn't see their brother-in-law's red Fiat anymore as it disappeared at a bend further ahead. But he knew Willie was right. He wasn't thinking clearly. It's just that, why it had to be Thomas Christie of all people Claire had chosen to go out with. He had nothing against the bloke, but he was a renowned player. What if Claire had grown tired of his condition and fell for Christie's charms? It wouldn't be a difficult feat as the bloke oozed charms by the bucketload. Hadn't he lost a girlfriend in the past because of Christie? Or was it because of his condition? He couldn't be sure anymore. Either way, knowing Claire was with Christie at this very moment was burning a hole in his stomach. "So ye're an expert on my thoughts now, are ye?" Jamie grunted, unable to think of a better excuse for his behaviour.

"I dinnae need to be an expert to know what ye're thinking ... it's written all o'er yer face," Willie retorted. "If ye'd called her up in the first place, then ye would've had a fair idea why she's meeting Christie, and ye wouldnae be in this stinking shite thinking the worse. The lass has been worried sick about ye, and she's put up with yer silence more than what could be expected of her. So do both yerselves a favour and calm the fuck down, aye?"

Jamie knocked back the claustrophobic sensation and forced himself to breathe. This had always been his trouble with his PTSD. He always had these intense emotions that always grew out of proportion to a point it would suffocate him, especially negatives ones like a feeling of lacking or guilt. Wasn't that what Geneva had said? There was a lot of misplaced guilt involved? And no matter what he did to get better, it was a bloody never-ending cycle that always brought him back to square one. But despite the shortcomings, he knew it would kill him if he didn't give himself a fighting chance with Claire. He might as well die trying. She was, after all, either going to be his reason for living or the reason he died. It was all right there, shining in front of him like a floodlight.

With a sigh, he tried to relax. Jamie knew justifying his earlier behaviour was a bad idea in both their current edgy states, but nothing would stop him from seeing Claire right now. It was like a need that required satisfying, and he couldn't wait to finally see her. He focused on the road ahead of them and listened to the radio to take his mind of negative thoughts.

It's a dreich Thursday afternoon, and here's another trip down memory lane with Mac's Classics here at MFR, with the biggest hits and the biggest throwbacks. Next up is a song sure to make ye forget the dreary days ahead – Let's get rickrolling with Never Gonna Give You Up.

"Turn it up," Jamie said suddenly, surprising his brother.

"What?" Willie glanced at him like he'd grown a pair of horns.

"I said, turn the bloody volume up!"

"Ye're joking, right? Rick fucking Astley? Nae chance pal!"

"Just do it," Jamie huffed, not caring what his brother thought of his song choice. When Claire had told him it had made her smile listening to it in the cafe the other day, he'd listened to it as well on his mother's antique record player. It was a bloody awful song, but for some strange reason, it had made him smile too.

Scowling and cursing under his breath, Willie eventually complied, and they listened to Rick Astley's song for the rest of the way. When they reached the village centre, Willie illegally parked outside Slater's Arms, carefully avoiding bumping into the menacing bollards. They were just about to get out of the car when Ian appeared from the pub, shaking his head.

Willie stuck his head out of the window. "What's the matter?"

"They're gone," Ian replied, shrugging, perplexity evident in his expression. "Spoke to Angus, and he said they didn't even order anything. They just got up and left."

Jamie got out of the car. "Did he say where they went?"

Ian narrowed his gaze at him. "I didnae ask."

Jamie ran a hand in front of his face and got back in the car. His brother had to work. There was only one thing left he could do, and it was to go back to the cottage, and if Claire wasn't there, he'd give her a call. He turned to Willie, letting out a sigh of resignation. "Just drop me off at the cottage. I've taken too much of yer time already."

"Ye sure?" Willie asked quietly. "I can drop ye off at Lallybroch. Yer car is there. Ye'll most probably need it soon, especially with more bad weather to come."

Jamie shook his head. He was certain Claire would be at home, and if not, surely later. He wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon but had every intention of making up for lost time with her. "It's time to go home," Jamie sighed, waving goodbye to Ian. "No more running away,"

Willie smiled, starting the car. "Good choice!"

It was a short drive to his cottage, and by the time they pulled up outside his house, the sun started to peek out for a splinter of a moment, his driveway though occupied by an unfamiliar vehicle. As soon as he saw a man's profile sat on the driver's seat, he immediately knew it was Christie. As if anticipating his next move and before he could yank off his seatbelt, Willie slapped a hand across his chest.

"What?" Jamie wheezed.

"Claire's in the cottage. Talk to her first and find out what's going on before ye jump to any conclusions."

Jamie breathed through a laugh, but he could hear it was edged with doubt. "What if I've fucked this up?"

"Ye havenae. And it's up to ye to keep that way. Now go to her. Ye'll find out soon enough there's a perfect explanation for Christie hanging about."

Words were fighting to leave his tongue, but he clamped his lips together and held them back. Vocalising the feelings raging inside his chest would only allow his emotions to run away with him. He reigned them in and took a deep breath. Whether it's a consequence of PTSD or not, he couldn't expect Claire to understand every time. So instead, Jamie gave Willie a reassuring nod and hoped his brother was right.

He got out of the car and walked straight to the cottage, refusing to acknowledge Christie. He knew he was being rude and could feel his brother's eyes boring into his back as well as Christie's. He didn't care because right at this moment, his primary focus was Claire.

As soon as he opened the door and saw Claire hooking a bag onto her shoulder, he bounded across the room, dropping his face into her neck and breathing for the first time in days. "Sassenach," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for leaving ye. I wasnae thinking. Please forgive me."

Claire dropped her bag on the floor, wrapping both arms around his neck. "Jamie, you're here," she breathed into his ear. "Are you alright? God, I've been so worried about you."

"I'm alright now that I'm here and ye're here," he rasped, lifting his head for a moment and eyeing the bags on the floor. "Why are yer bags packed?"

She followed his gaze. "I ...ah ... it's work, and I have to ..."

"Ye're going back to London?"

"No!"

That's all he needed to hear. Unable to wait any longer for an explanation, he pulled her into his arms as urgency pumped in his veins. He badly needed to absorb as much as he could of her, breathing her in, in huge gulps of air. His mouth travelled over her neck, into her hair, across her lips, whispering for forgiveness, his hands restless as he touched her everywhere.

"Hey, look at me ... there's nothing to forgive," she murmured, drawing away. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and searched his eyes. "I understand what you've been going through, and I know you're fighting your hardest. It's going to be alright."

"I've missed ye." He turned his face to kiss her palm before placing her hand on his chest. "I-I thought ye're better off without me. I thought I could walk away from ye, and it would be enough knowing ye're safe from me. But nothing was right. I was sick to the soul, knowing I've left ye. I wanted ye to be with a better man than me, but now ... I'm gonnae be selfish and beg ye to let me be that man by yer side."

"Jamie, where's this coming from?" she queried. "I was worried and afraid for you, but I haven't changed my mind about us." She sighed. "Your brother told me yesterday, you were seeing a therapist this morning. Did you go today?"

Jamie swallowed and nodded, unable to still his hands, touching her everywhere, needing to assure himself he was really holding her.

"Is this why you're talking like this? Has the therapy dug up a lot of unwanted issues? Because if it has, it's perfectly normal."

"No!" He let out a frustrated breath. He'd been so unpredictable with the symptoms of his PTSD coming and going, she wasn't taking him seriously when he needed her to hear him out. "No, please listen and look me in the eye. I panicked when I saw the bruises on yer arms, and without thinking, I left. I did what I did because I didnae think I could ever be the man for ye ...a bloody disappointment, constantly causing ye grief. But I understand now why my condition is out of control at the moment ... it's because I have suppressed emotions that need to come out. It's been coming out more because all this while, ye've been the key to my healing. So I'm handing everything inside me over to ye because I trust ye, and ye're the only one who can make sense of me. I cannae promise smooth sailing, Sassenach, but there is one thing I know ye can depend on and will always be constant despite my condition. And that's my love for ye. I can guarantee ye with certainty ye can rely on that. This isnae a result of my therapy talking, alright? I willnae let ye go for anything. I can work around my condition with ye by my side, and I'll work twice as hard to get better."

"Jamie, I love you too, and I have no doubt that ..."

"Then why are your bags packed?" he questioned accusingly. "And why is Christie outside waiting for ye?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Claire quickly explained everything from the call she received from her boss to Christie's involvement and an impatient Mary Hawkins waiting for her at the airport.

He could tell she was itching to go by the way she tried to subtly glance at her watch, but he was feeling too selfish. "How about I drive ye to Inverness?" he cajoled, his hand stroking her hair. "Willie is still outside. We'll get my car in Lallybroch, and I'll drive ye." He suddenly felt like a bastard keeping her from doing her work.

"Jamie, no!" she said gently but firmly. He knew she was restraining herself from rushing off, wanting to make sure he was alright first. "I can't be fretting about you being in a city when I have work to do. There's a possibility I'll be back tonight, but if Mary wants to work straight away on her book, then I have to stay in Inverness for a couple of nights, tops. Besides, I need to explain to Tom about his book's publication and make sure he hasn't changed his mind. Until we've drawn up a contract, nothing is certain." Her hands smoothed the hard muscles on his chest. "Besides, I need you to be here when my uncle comes. He'll be hiring a car, so he won't require picking up."

"What? Ye're uncle is coming here?" he almost shouted.

"No. I mean, uncle Lamb won't be staying here in the cottage even though you told him he could. I've already booked him a place in the village centre ...close to the amenities."

He let out a sigh of relief. He didn't think he was ready to bond with Harry's look-alike ...yet. If anything, he dreaded it, afraid of other suppressed memories dying to come out and choke him with guilt.

"Jamie, I really ought to go. I promise I'll call later and explain everything."

With a groan, he pulled Claire in once more in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, and she responded with a whimper that told him she was enjoying the kiss. He hadn't even had a second to savour getting her back before the prospect of letting her go again struck him like a baseball bat between the shoulder blades. But he wanted to give her something to remember while she's away and what she'll be missing if she didn't hurry up with her work. He slipped his hand under her cardigan, caressing her nipple with the calloused pad of his thumb and pressing his burgeoning erection against her belly.

"I love ye ...always remember that." His mouth coasted along the lines of her jaw, his hands squeezing her waist. "I ken ye've been patient and understanding with me, but just try to be extra tolerant with me for now. Can ye do that?"

She nodded, her face red from beard burn. "Alright, but I do need to go, Jamie." Her eyes flashed. "And you have nothing to worry about. So please rest up tonight because you'll need a hell of a lot of energy when my uncle comes."

It's the way she looked at him, pleading for understanding that became his undoing as if she's reading his thoughts, and despite everything he'd done, she couldn't find fault with a single one. He needed to be a better man and control his emotions and needs. Her work was important to her, and she was important to him. "Fine, I'll walk ye to the car." He stooped down to get her bags and followed her outside.

They stopped beside Christie's car, and Jamie watched the other man climbed out, both men grunting a greeting at each other.

"Am I still driving ye to Inverness, Claire?" Christie asked, avoiding Jamie's eyes.

Claire nodded. "Yes, please, if that's still alright with you. I'm so sorry I took so long."

"It's nae bother, and of course, I'll drive ye to Inverness," Christie smiled warmly.

A long silence stretched as the three of them just stood there. Christie rocked on his heels, and Jamie held on to Claire's bags like it was his lifeline.

Caught up in the awkwardness of the moment, Claire bit her bottom lip. "Well, I guess that's settled then. We best get going before Mary does something like bite some poor soul's head at the airport." Claire's attempt to sound cheerful lessened the tension in the air but not the one on Jamie's shoulders. She turned to him and tried to take her bags off his hands, but he couldn't seem to let go. "Jamie ...my bags," she whispered, her hand running up and down his forearm as if to tell him everything was going to be alright.

But instead of giving Claire's bags back to her, he begrudgingly handed them to Christie while launching if looks could kill look over her head. They had a few seconds of stare off until Claire's hands on his face forced him to look at her.

"Jamie, kiss me, goodbye?"

He didn't hesitate at her request and sucked on her bottom lip as she made a sobbing noise. That wee noise she made jolted something free inside of him, and he, too, wanted to cry. He couldn't remember wanting to openly cry before. Not like this. He couldn't control it, and it dragged him down, stealing oxygen from his lungs, but Claire's touches soothed him.

"I don't want to go," she murmured against his mouth. "Not one bit. But I'm doing this for us, remember that. The sooner I'm done with work, the more time we can spend time together."

He allowed himself to wade into the shallow waters of comfort Claire was starting to represent. He'd lived with this reality for too long that he wasn't enough. Or probably worse, he was too much. For years, these memories of loss and guilt and shame had been subdued. Now they're coming out with guns blazing, and he felt totally defenceless. But with her arms around him, he felt cocooned in her bubble of protection. So he clung to her like a drunk with his last shot of whisky, the desperation inside him going into overdrive, and he was practically mauling her lips with no care whose watching, drawing her onto tiptoes so he could get all of her from every angle.

"Jamie," she whispered shakily, gently pulling away. "My phone is going off every second. Mary is probably wondering why I haven't called her."

Breathe, lad, it's going to be alright. Don't lose yer cool, or ye'll drive her away. He let go and opened the car door for her, not taking any notice of the man waiting patiently at the driver's seat. "I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled.

"It's alright." She smiled in understanding, squeezing his hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

He held on to Claire's eyes, the only tangible thing he could grasp, giving him a renewed determination to manage the condition that had ruled him all his life. At that moment, the world suddenly made sense, and he was veering into a place he didn't recognise ...a place of calm, where the voices in his head had lost their dominion over his thoughts.

He watched as Christie's Land Rover drove away and was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. Jamie turned around to discover Willie stood there, a smile etched on his face. Jamie had forgotten about his brother, too caught up with Claire's departure and the intense emotions he'd nearly let out of control.

"Ye did well, bràthair. I'm so proud of ye."

Jamie dropped his head forward and let out an exhale, feeling a lot lighter in days. He knew he'd only scratched the surface of their relationship, but Claire was giving him all the time in the world to get back on his feet, and he was determined not to disappoint her. Though it had been a struggle not to let his emotions take control, it was at least a start. He glanced up at his brother and smiled.

"Ye alright there, Jamie lad?" Willie playfully slapped him on the back for good measure.

"Aye, I think so." This time Jamie meant it and believed his own words. He threw an arm around Willie's shoulder, squeezed it briefly before stepping back. "And thank ye for sticking around. I owe ye one."

"Aye ye do," Willie grinned. "How about repaying me like right now and coming to work. It should keep yer mind busy and help me catch up with a long list of jobs."

Jamie didn't need prodding. His mouth curved into a smile, and he nodded his head. "After seeing Christie, I think I'm in the mood for uprooting trees."

They shared a wicked glance and then laughed out loud.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your patience with this story and the feedback from the previous chapter.

Mental health stories are, I personally think, the hardest to put across because it involves a lot of emotions and psychological battle that are difficult to put into words. But I was determined to write this account even though it has its challenges, so I hope I've done it justice.

Part of the reason for pushing to write such a story that delves into the mind of a tortured soul is to raise mental health awareness because there are many things that people still don't understand about this illness. In saying that, some of you were disappointed by Jamie's behaviour, and I wanted that to happen to make a point.

In real life, it's so much easier to categorise and point out someone's shortcoming instead of trying to understand the psyche of a person's behaviour. From my perspective, each of us has undoubtedly suffered a form of mental illness at least once, but not everyone has the emotional and psychological strength and maturity to cope or overcome it. Nor do they have access to help. In Jamie' case, he's got a strong network of family, and he got Claire to help him get through it.

So the moral of the story is, spread kindness because you never know what really is going on in someone's mind.

For now, take care of yourselves. Until the next update ... X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.3]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Chapter 03: Ties That Bind

Where war, and joy, and terror Have all at times held away; Where both delight and horror Have had their fitful day.

The happiest under heaven A king of powerful mind; A company so proven Would now be hard to find

Gawain put on a good cheer. ‘Why should I hesitate?’ He said. ‘Kind or severe, We must engage our Fate.’

[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]

„Breathe,“ Hanneman says for the third time. At every tap of his pen against the table, you flinch as if someone is knocking right against the inside of your skull. “You have to feel the Crest, become one with it. Don’t think of it as an addition; see it as an extension of your very self.”

You exhale but it’s hard to focus after you’ve been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours and your legs keep falling asleep.

“Focus on it,” Hanneman continues. He starts to gesture with his free hand, an indicator that he’s just as frustrated with your lack of progress as you are. “Focus on the feeling that took hold of you when you fought the bandits. Imagine what you want. Ask yourself what it is you really want, and take hold of that picture.”

Well, first of all, you really want a sandwich.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been waking up before sunrise to attend private lessons with Hanneman to get a hold of your Crest’s power. Now the end of the month approaches, and still your body refuses to get accustomed to work at such an early hour, and more importantly without eating first. An hour ago, your stomach started growling, but Professor Hanneman has proved again and again to be very successful in ignoring factors that disturb his lessons. You continue breathing through what you consider hunger pains instead of the raise of new powers, but with the sound of screaming students outside and the occasional flapping of wings as Pegasus Knights fly by on their patrol, it’s anything but successful.

“Focus!” Hanneman chides again as if he can read your mind and knows exactly you’re thinking of the pheasant roast with berry sauce on the menu today.

“I’m trying,” you groan and slump into the chair, defeated. “But I don’t feel anything.”

“Hmm hmmm,” Hanneman hums and looks at you like you were supposed to understand what he’s conveying with that sound. “Maybe we’re looking at it the wrong way,” he says once you don’t follow up on his inexplicable sound. “Maybe we should stop thinking of it as a common Crest, but approach it like it is something entirely different.” He quickly notes something on his paper, then proceeds to flip through the open books he’s splayed out on his desk. “There is so little we know about the Crest of the Herald. I am much frustrated no one thought of studying it a thousand years ago!”

“I don’t understand. How can it be different?” Your first lesson solely focused on Crests. How they are thought to be power incarnate, bestowed upon humans by the Goddess countless ages ago. Today those who are descendants of Fódlan’s Ten Elites and Four Saints, who fought during the War of Heroes beside Saint Seiros, wear Crests, a sign of wealth and nobility.

“Well, one possible explanation could be that for whatever reason, the first Herald was different from his fellow warriors, the Ten Elites,” Hanneman offers, leaning back into his chair and looking a lot more interested in the conversation now. “The Goddess must have found him worthy of her power just as she found Saint Seiros worthy.”

“Then why wasn’t he a Saint?” you wonder. From your understanding, the Four Saints were special comrades of Saint Seiros, just as guided by the Goddess as their leader. What had made the Herald from back then different? “According to everything you told me, he sounds a lot like this Macuil person. Focusing on strategy and all that.”

“Saint Macuil,” Hanneman corrects you, but there’s no bite in his voice. “And yes, perhaps he was akin to the Saints, but that clearly wasn’t what determined the final decision to name him Herald.”

“Well, that’s just my kind of luck,” you mumble, but when Hanneman makes a puzzled sound, you ask instead, “And you’re sure I’m a descendant of him?”

“Most likely! You bear a Major Crest, which means the Herald’s blood runs strong in your body. After he disappeared, he might have settled down and started a family. Unfortunately, nothing is recorded about him after the War of Heroes concluded.”

“Then how come there was no one else in a thousand years who bore the same Crest?” You aren’t sure you fully understand how they work. Apparently, Crests grant special powers to those who hold them such as high aptitude for magic or enhanced strength. But you know better than anyone that the Crest of the Herald is special. It doesn’t simply give you a boon, it allows you to command the flow of battle. But is it really a blessing bestowed by the Goddess? You don’t remember a divine revelation or talking to a Goddess. Or did that maybe occur even before you were found by the Officers Academy’s students? Before your memory loss? You certainly don’t feel chosen by a deity.

“Trying to explain the Goddess’ whims would wield about the same result as asking this question,” Hanneman says. “Sometimes a Crest may skip generations. No one can say with certainty who will be chosen. If it will be the first or third born. That is why we must further study Crests! For example, why, unlike other Crests, has your appeared physically visible?” Hanneman mutters more questions under his breath and notes them quickly on his paper. It’s remarkable how enthusiastic he approaches the topic if it only didn’t make you feel like an experiment lying on a dissection table.

“I want to know so much more about the first Herald,” you mumble. “What was his name? Where was he from?” Why did he disappear and what were the costs he had paid for such a title. Only one month in and Lady Rhea already granted you an impressive room to reside. People treat you with respect and admiration even though you aren’t doing much besides wave at them on the streets or hold some conversations. If being the Herald only encompasses these tasks, you’ll gladly take on the role and speak to people. But that would be a dream too good to be true.

“We can only speculate,” Hanneman says. “Some believe the Herald came when Seiros needed him most. Our Goddess’ answer to her cry of help. Others believe he was simply a general who originated form a farmer’s family. Other, smaller sources talk about a prince from a far off land who passed through Fódlan and decided to stay. But in all cases, the Herald was a great asset to win the War of Heroes and save Fódlan from the tyranny of the Fell King.”

“Yeah, no pressure there,” you mumble, sinking further into your seat. Hopefully no one expects you to save Fódlan from evil monarchs. If yes, it certainly won’t happen on an empty stomach. When Hanneman releases you, there’s only one place for you to be. The Dining Hall is crowded at this time of hour. Students and faculty bustle everywhere, eager to get their favourite meal on a plate. Just like them, you are drawn in by the amazing smell of roasted meet and freshly baked pastries.

The only thing you can live without is how once you enter the room several heads turn in your direction, and a ripple of “Look, it’s the Herald” goes through the crowd, spreading like a wave. Or a disease, you think with a sour taste in your mouth as you move through the parting sea. They want you to acknowledge them but Goddess forbid you actually engage in conversation with them and they flee like you’re the Herald of Pest.

“Herald!” Well, not everyone escapes. Some seem to like living dangerous.

Edelgard looks straight at you from between the other students from the Eagle class sitting at a table, removing any doubt she means anyone else but you. Running from her would be a sign of defeat, so you drag yourself over to the Eagle table and give the round an uncertain smile. “Hello.”

“Herald, if you have time, please sit with us,” Edelgard offers but the look she pins on you doesn't give you any choice. The silence of her classmates speaks louder than words, and a quick glance to Hubert tells you that he very much would like for you to notsit with them.

“Sure,” you say lamely and sit opposite from her where Bernadetta quickly shuffles to the side to make room, and then further down the bench until she jumps to her feet and flees from the hall. It’s a miracle she’s out of her chambers in the first place, undoubtedly Byleth’s work.

“Did you manage any progress with Professor Hanneman?” Edelgard asks, carefully cutting her pheasant roast into small bite-sized pieces. She looks the complete opposite from someone capable of hacking away their enemies but you wouldn’t dare to underestimate her.

“It’s slow,” you admit, solely focusing on shoving potatoes from one side of your plate to the other so you don’t have to look at anyone. “I’ve only grasped the basics of how Crests work and the Herald’s is so different.”

“Research might prove more fruitful if you’d be called into action,” she says, and it’s difficult to determine if that statement is a simple observation or underlying critique towards Rhea’s decision to leave you out of the major education system. At least that’s something you’re sure of. Edelgard is difficult.

“Maybe. But chances are higher I get myself killed somehow on the battlefield.” You’re already dreading the approaching noon hours. Byleth has worked out a special training programme for you and the house leaders. So far there hasn’t been a day without aching muscles and bruises for you. Thinking of Byleth, you can’t help but ask, “So how’s Byleth as a Professor?”

Edelgard considers her plate with mild interest, but her index fingers start tapping against her cutlery. She has small, delicate hands. Cute hands. You gawk at them for two seconds before noticing Hubert starring daggers at you, and quickly avert your eyes to your cup of ginger tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Our professor shows knowledge in the most curious things,” he says, surprising you by joining the conversation. “I think the Adrestian Empire will benefit greatly from that.”

You aren’t sure how leading the class correlates directly to joining the Empire, but you don’t want to point that out. Hubert is still too much of a puzzle you’re adamant on not piecing together because whatever picture waits for you after the assembly might be one of horror.

“She really is one to look up to,” Edelgard agrees, but she isn’t looking at anyone, so it seems she’s saying it more to herself. You want to try and read more out of her expression, but distraction comes quickly in form of more students from the Eagle class. Caspar is the first bouncing excitedly towards the table, and still he somehow miraculously manages to keep his food from flying everywhere. “Herald!” he calls and slides right on the seat right next to you. “How’s the head situation going?”

“Caspar,” Linhardt chides and gives his friend the disappointed look of a parent that can’t bring his child to use a fork to eat. “Would you stop pestering the Herald with the same question every day?”

Linhardt hits the mark. It was nice in the beginning to have someone show so much interest in your wellbeing, but now you don’t know if the daily reminder how you fail to regain pieces of your past is rude or just Caspar’s naive politeness.

“Yeah well.” You try to stuff as much potatoes in your mouth as possible just to avoid talking about it. “Nothin’ yeff.”

“Herald, please try to keep your manners in check, will you?” Ferdinand comments because of course he catches you with your mouth full and sauce dripping from the corners. Unlucky for him, you don’t really care.

“Well, sorry.” Caspar frowns and scratches the remains from his plate. The two minutes you needed to finish your potatoes, he’s cleared his whole plate. “I just thought it might help.”

“Help to be reminded what’s missing?” Linhardt doesn’t look convinced. “I think the Herald knows so better than anyone.”

“Guys, drop the subject,” Edelgard intervenes. “Let us finish our meals now. Classes resume presently and I don’t want to hear any stomachs growling, understood?” The last part goes with a pointed look towards Linhardt, who answers with a lazy shrug while continuing to poke at his food, looking bored out of his mind. It lasts about three seconds before he brightens up and turns towards you while rummaging through his school bag. From that, he pulls out notes and a pen, and unceremoniously shoves them into your hands. “I have a question, Herald. Would you be so kind and look over these strategic proposals I’ve developed from the last lesson? I understand what you taught us were basics as we find them in the library. I simply took the time and applied those to the strengths and abilities of my classmates.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You did?” Up until now, you didn’t know Linhardt was paying attention whenever you gave the students your sorry excuses of lessons. You feel like you’ve seen him asleep far more than actually looking at the board or writing, so him presenting his notes to you now is more than a surprise. He has a clean handwriting, small letters that curl into themselves and forget to take a break between words. You squint at the sentences, trying to make them out. It sure doesn’t help that half of it is crossed out by what looks like a strategy sketch with little circles and everyone’s names filling out the space.

“This looks … elaborate,” you comment, unsure if you’ll ever be able to solve this enigma.

“No worries.” Linhardt gives a little smile. “Please give me your answer report until tomorrow. And feel free to correct me on anything I’ve done wrong.”

He’s probably done a much better job than you on your lesson notes, but you nod with a lopsided smile. “I will.”

“Oh, and while we’re at strategy talk,” Caspar jumps right in, “any good ideas how to take on a taller opponent?”

“A good kick to their shins?” you suggest.

“A dagger to their liver?” Edelgard says.

“Poison in their cup?” Hubert offers.

“You’re all animals,” Ferdinand says.

Linhardt groans. “I toldyou how to win in a fight like that, Caspar. Why won’t you listen to me?”

You don’t want to be part of the argument breaking out between them, so you turn away and try to see what the other students are doing in the dining hall. At the opposite end, Claude catches your eyes and waves like he’s been waiting way too long to finally get your attention. He points at Edelgard and flaps his arms like a chicken. He points at you and spreads his hands behind his head, forming antlers with his fingers. When Edelgard follows your eyes, his head whips around and he pretends to agree with whatever Lysithea just said.

“I hope you forgive Caspar’s enquiries,” she says, steering your focus back to her. She’s gently tapping the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin, and oh there they are again, her delicate fingers. You look away before Hubert catches you staring again and decides to put poison in your cup7. “I speak on behalf of everyone in the Black Eagle House when I say we wish for your full recovery to be soon.”

“If wishing would only get the job done, I might have something to work with by now.”

Edelgard doesn’t blink, her expression frozen. “Meaning?”

“I thought I'd come here and one of the Church's healers would just wave their hands to return my memories,” you mumble, scribbling a tiny Claude with little, evil horns on his head in the corner of Linhardt’s notes.

Edelgard looks at you like you've just insulted her whole noble lineage. “That isn't how magic works.”

You throw your arms up in frustration to emphasise that yes, that's the point. You don't know how anything works in this place, and you doubt Byleth's four pages of lesson plans are going to help.

“If no one comes to your aid, maybe it is time you take matters into your own hands.” You flinch at the scornful sound in Edelgard’s voice. Judging the expression on her face, she seems just as surprised about her outburst. She gets up abruptly and bids farewell with a curt nod, followed closely by Hubert as always. Her classmates look after her, each more puzzled than the next.

“Didn’t she seem … angry to you?” Linhardt thinks aloud, blinking into the empty space.

Ferdinand harrumphes. “She’s always like this. Please excuse her, Herald.”

You don’t think she’s done anything wrong, and yet she certainly doesn’t appear as always. Something about her last words strikes you as especially sharp; reproachful. Those weren’t meaningless words, but you don’t have any ways to decipher the message. A little voice tells you she isn’t wrong either. So far nothing has helped returning your memories—Manuela’s medicine, herbs from the Greenhouse, Hanneman’s spells. It seems like your brain has built defencive walls to repel any probing, which begs the answer to the question what is hiding in secret even more. But can you really do it on your own, like Edelgard suggests? It seems impossible.

With newfound doubt you finish your meal, saying your goodbyes to the now scattering Eagle students as they scurry off to their next lesson. Two hours are left before you’re meeting with Byleth and the house leaders, and since you agreed to look over Linhardt’s notes, the library seems a good next stop. You still want to go over the seven classical manoeuvres of war, especially since the students didn’t really grasp the remaining two last time, and it gives you a good excuse to look over them again as well. At the beginning, you thought there was nothing you could teach those children, not with experienced colleagues at your side who have participated in countless battles themselves. Who could have thought that talking about tactics and strategies came as natural to you as breathing. Well, Rhea did for certain, and even the students drink up your every word like it is a message from the Goddess herself and you her chosen herald. The irony of it.

But it isn’t only the students accepting your guidance. Something inside you changed in the last couple of weeks as well. When you started going through the books in the library, it was more stumbling and slipping on foreign terrain, but just in a couple of days, you moved through the matter like a fish following smoothly the currents of its native waters. It felt like home. Like building the foundation of a house from thousand variables, the result different each time but still the same: art. You build the art of battle, the last decision that will bring victory or death. You love every second of it. Which opens the possibility that it really isn’t your first time, but also more questions: Who taught you? What battles have you fought? How many of them did you win? Since those aren’t as simple to answer, you focus on fulfilling the first purpose, and hope that it will some day be enough for the students to survive battles.

If only it would end there. Your second duty isn’t as easy or pleasant, and it lies in wait for you everywhere, stalking you like a dark shadow with monstrous fangs.

“Herald.” A soldier gives a courteous bow, intercepting you in the Great Hall on your way to the library. “Pilgrims ask for you near the Entrance Hall. Please allow me to escort you.”

Immediately, your nerves tingle with nervous anticipation. This is the scary part. Meeting the people, seeing the hope in their eyes. You’d gladly send them back where they’ve come from, but some have travelled for multiple days, and denying them audience would be cruel.

“Don’t let me stop you from your duties,” you say, unconsciously tugging your clothes in order to appear presentable. “I will welcome them on my own.”

The soldier nods and bows again, his expression barely readable under the helmet before he disappears as quickly as he came.

Planning lessons is easy. You can find whatever you need in the library and work out the flow with the students. But nothing can prepare or teach you how to act like the Herald people wish for. Nowhere is anything written on the old Herald, how he talked to them and what promises he’d whispered when day broke. That is where you are on your own. Not even Rhea could answer that question. She only instructed that you see them, and remind them about their devotion to the Goddess—for she was the one who made it possible in the first place.

The Entrance Hall is emptier than usual. Most of the students are in class, and a handful of knights and soldiers might be at the advanced training camp Jeralt and Alois hold in honour of the Blade Breaker’s return. So spotting the pilgrims isn’t difficult. Especially with the Gatekeeper waving his arms in wide arcs as if fearing you might overlook him.

“Greetings, Herald!” His grin is blinding. “The pilgrims are waiting for you just at the at the foot of the stairs.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I can see them.”

“Oh, yes, of course! If anyone causes problems, count on me to help!”

“Thanks.” You answer his thumbs up with one of your own before moving downstairs. What a refreshing young man. Certainly good looking under his helmet. Byleth seems to like talking to him a lot as well.

Today’s pilgrims aren’t much different from other days. Old people are supported by their family members, who have brought baskets with sweets and flowers, presenting them at your feet.

“Herald,” they breathe in awe, bowing. No matter how often you’ve seen it by now, it still feels incredibly wrong.

“Raise your heads,” you tell them, helping an elderly woman up to hrer feet. She gasps at your touch, then clings to your hands. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat. “The Archbishop and I bid you welcome. The Goddess will smile upon your devotion.” Your cringe slightly when echoing Rhea’s words and wonder if any second the goddess might punish you by throwing lightning your way.

“We are blessed to finally meet you,” a younger woman says, taking the old woman from your hands—mother and daughter maybe? “Please accept our gifts, and may the Goddess guide you on your path to light.”

“She will answer your prayers and guide me so I can bring you peace,” you reply just so you can say something they might want to hear. Judging their delighted expressions this wasn’t the worst you could have said. Dorothea would probably be proud looking at your acting skills. Or point out your bad posture and how you’re avoiding their eyes. Dorothea would probably tell you how much you have to polish your acting skills.

“Bring us peace?” someone from the last row spits, pushing to the front. “You know nothing, the Herald will bring chaos and ruin!” A man in his forties looms above you, an ugly, padded scar crossing his face from one temple to his chin. A war veteran? They way he holds himself looks like he’s been beaten up once too much to get up again.

“You heathen, don’t you dare speak to our Herald like that,” the old woman barks, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit. Her daughter supports her, glaring at the man. “Go in peace, but go if you only came to talk ill about our Herald,” she says, clearly upset. "Doubting them is doubting our Goddess. How dare you."

“First I want to see the Herald do something! What if … if this one is an impostor.” The man turns towards the others, throwing his arms in the air. “Bring forward proof that you are not here to ruin our lands, but to actually serve in the Goddess’ name!”

This time his demand meets less resistance. Until now people were fine with seeing you and the Crest, but to want actual prove? You could easily threaten them and ask if they doubt the Goddess’ decision, but you’d rather leave that method to Rhea. You don’t want to sound like her. You don’t want to scare people. Yet admitting that you don’t really have a clue how to really use the Crest would surely support the man’s accusation. Diminishing the people’s trust in the Herald is the last thing you want, especially if it means facing Rhea’s scorn.

“I—”

“Herald!” A voice calls from the top of the stairs. When you turn around, Sylvain waves and jogs downstairs, looking like he’s been running for some time. “There you are. The Archbishop wants to see you.”

Oh no, has she heard of your failure already? Giving the choice of facing a group of doubting people or Rhea, you’d immediately go to the people. You give him a curt nod, unable to speak because you don’t trust your voice.

“I apologise,” you say to the pilgrims, clearing your throat when it comes out as a croak. “I will have something prepared for another time.”

“No, you do not need to prove anything to us,” the elderly woman says. “We will always believe in you. Please tell Her Grace we are constantly praying to our Goddess and thank her for sending you to us.”

“I will.” You squeeze her hand a last time. “Save travels.”

The man still glares at you, but without a chance to keep you present any longer, he turns away and follows the rest. You can’t wait to leave all that behind, and as you steel your nerves for what’s waiting for you in the Audience Chambers, you look up to Sylvain and ask, “Did Lady Rhea say what it is about?”

He looks over at you and blinks a couple of times, then seems to remember. “Ah ... yeah, about that. I lied.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “You lied?”

“Yup. I don’t know what Lady Rhea’s doing. But you looked like you were about to puke at those poor pilgrim’s shoes. As hilarious as that would have been, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” He stops now as well and smiles a boyish crooked grin. Sylvain knows exactly what to do with his face so girls fall over themselves to do him a favour, and boys grow jealous of all the attention he gets. Two weeks in, and you’ve figured out his game, keeping a respectable distance that wouldn’t birth the thought you’re avoiding him. In fact, this could be the very first time you’re actually holding a real conversation.

“Well, I … thank you? But I had everything under control.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. The gatekeeper you’re just passing looks like he doesn’t believe you. You press your lips into a thin line and dare any of them to disagree.

“Okay.” Sylvain shrugs. “But now we’re here.”

“Sylvain, what do you want?”

“Cutting to the chase, huh?” He crosses his arms behind his head. “Why do you think I want something?” Your raised eyebrows seem to be answer enough. Sylvain laughs a little helplessly and returns his hands back to his front, raised as an offer of peace. “I promise, I want nothing. Just a little talking. A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone.”

Something inside you wants to argue against it, but without a solid argument in hand, you follow him silently, wondering where his destination and intention lies. He belongs to the many students you can’t really read, nothing about his ambitions or goals. Sometimes he gives you this strange look through half lidded eyes, his gaze focused on your right eye—his interest in your Crest undeniable, and yet he’s been one of the few not to talk about it with you. It’s strange because whenever you come together, he looks like there’s something he’s dying to say. This time is no different.

He leads you to the wooden pavilion in the gardens, but instead of offering you a seat, Sylvain leans his slim hips against the table, half sitting on it. Seteth would be furious seeing this.

“How’s the Herald business doing for you?” he asks the one question you wouldn't expect from him. “Other than you having ‘everything under control.’” He has the audacity to air-quote. This isn’t a conversation you want to hold right now, leastwise with him. Sylvain must discern that you’re ready to bold from whatever your body is showing. With a quick step, he’s standing between you and the escape route, lazily leaning one arm against a column to uphold the illusion that you’re only having a pleasant talk when in reality his body stands between you and your freedom.

“Do you talk to the other faculty members like that as well?” you say through gritted teeth, crossing your arms. Sylvain blinks like he doesn’t understand, but you’ve seen this act before, followed by an eerily precise repetition of a subject to one of his classmates when he thinks none of the teachers pay attention. Sylvain is playing dumb and deliberately hiding a sharp mind.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” he quickly says, nothing about this crooked smile appearing apologetic whatsoever. “I’m generously curious. You’re holding up really good.”

“In comparison to what?” you demand, your heartbeat picking up. Is he trying to call you out on something? That you aren’t heraldy enough? But to your surprise, Sylvain looks genuinely surprised by your reaction.

“To nothing. In general?” He shrugs. “Back on the ceremony day, you didn’t look so good standing up there, and His Highness told us everything happened really uh … ‘suddenly.’’ More air-quotes, whatever they mean this time.

“If you mean I wasn’t really asked to become the Herald, then yes.” Your arms drop back to your side. “It was suddenly.”

Sylvain watches you for a moment, and again, there’s this look in his eyes; the need to say something he can’t. He kneads the back of his nape, avoiding your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is … having that Crest out of nothing is cool. Probably. And maybe terrifying? And just—”

You grow impatient. “Come on, get the words out, Sylvain.”

“A Crest isn’t just this nice letter of invitation to a privileged life. Just take care, is all I’m saying.”

And there’s another page to the book of surprises with Sylvain’s name on it. The immediate lack of response catches him off guard; it’s like he only notices now that the vital part to understand this conversation is missing: The source of his doubt towards Crests.

Sylvain’s body turns in a split second, his feet facing the direction he’s ready to bold towards, but this time you stand in his way and block him off. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

He blinks in confusion, then furrows his eyebrows in deep thought like you demanded he recites the Ten Heroes from memory or else fails classes. His face contorts with the effort of looking fine. “Why, yes! Just peachy. Why would you think something is off?”

“Because I have eyes in my skull.”

“Very pretty eyes, if I dare say.” His answer comes out like a fire spell, hard and fast, seemingly more instinct than anything else. He clears his throat and scratches his chin, loosing momentum. “Goddess, I am bad at this.”

“You are.” No need to sugar coat it. “If something happened, just say it.”

“Nothing really happened, I just—” He exhales audibly and stares into space for a long minute, before side stepping you without difficulty. “Actually, I remembered Professor wanted to see me after class. Something about extra lessons about eh. Horse riding. Yeah. I’ll catch you later, Herald.” He winks and bolds away, darting under your outstretched arm before you can catch him. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly agile and fast, already disappearing behind a tall hedge towards the main building.

If that wasn’t the strangest conversation you’ve held with anyone, you don’t know what might excel that. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding Sylvain.

The Training Grounds smells of sweat and oil. Many students and knights train, which is surprising at this kind of hour, the short break between afternoon and evening classes. You’d like to know what they’re working on, but Byleth doesn’t tolerate inattention in a classroom or on the battle field, and demands you do push-ups each time your eyes wander somewhere off. You hate her a little for that. For whatever reason, Claude has taken on the role of your partner in crime, and does whatever necessary to make Byleth punish him as well.

“What can I say, I like a good workout,” he said when you asked. He didn’t even try to hide his lie, looking as miserable as you felt. Probably hating Byleth a little as well.

It’s the fourth week of private training with her and the house leaders, and so far you can definitely say that you were not meant to fight on the field. You see how your opponent moves, you can somehow predict what they’re going to do next—but your body simply protests to act accordingly. You stumble, you fall, you need a second too long to get up and before you can do anything, a training sword is at your throat. Byleth always looks like she wants to facepalm her fist through her forehead. Or yours.

“Herald, this is not how you disarm someone,” she says, as always, and demonstrates it in one smooth, swift movement, as always. You blow hair out of your eyes, knowing you’re about to fail again. At least that gave Claude a reason to give you a new nickname, though if it’s better than the last is debatable.

“You gotta twist your wrist, duckling!” he calls from the other side of the hall, immediately drawing Byleth’s attention to him. He and Dimitri are facing off, both wielding a spear which should give Dimitri the upper hand. So far, he hasn’t landed a single hit on Claude.

“Keep your elbows in!” Byleth berates Claude. “Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken.”

Claude lets out a disturbingly convincing cluck.

You raise an eyebrow. “At least someone’s having fun.”

Byleth sighs. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner than later.”

“I don’t know. He’s managed so far, hasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a fault.” She turns back to you and nods her chin towards the side. “Take a break. I’m going to see how the boys are doing.”

You nod, tensing all over because that’s where Edelgard is currently standing and picking out a training axe. You haven’t talked to her since lunch, and you can do without it for a couple more hours. She barely glances at you when you walk over, and instead checks out the edge of the wooden blade, turning it left and right.

“Is she as strict in the classroom as in here?” you ask, unable to go on in awkward silence. Edelgard hums, throwing a quick glance towards Byleth from under her long, white lashes. “She’s systematic and consistent. Capable in both fields. I have no reason to raise any kind of complaint.”

“That’s impressive.” You sure as heck still wouldn’t want her as a teacher. “Even though she’s been pushed into all this, she handles it like she’s never done anything else.”

“I think as a mercenary, she is used to changing approaches depending on the employer.” Edelgard is still looking at Byleth. Reading her expression is impossible, and you don’t want to point out that sticking a sword into thieves and bandits is not the same as teaching kids how to fight in a battle. Her head whips to you suddenly, and she considers the training sword in your hand. “Speaking of different approaches,” she continues, “have you considered that your field of combat might be magic?”

You have, so the answer comes immediately. “Chances are higher I set myself on fire.” You stare at her. “I didn’t mean it to rhyme.”

Edelgard ignores your last comment. “But you haven’t really tried it out, have you?” Your lack of response is answer enough for her, and she nods like that proves a point.

It’s complicated. You haven’t really tried it out because … the simple answer is, you’re afraid. It gets tricky once you try to search for the answer to that. There’s just a strange sensation when you try to use magic, like there’s a vast sea of possibilities and one step inside is enough to get you lost. It isn’t as bad with wind spells or white magic. You haven’t touched Fire spells because a crippling fear chills you to the bones every time you manage to nourish a small flame inside your palm—the complete opposite to Dark magic. When you tried a MiasmaΔ for the first time it felt strangely … secure. The rope tying you to a shore, it had felt like—

There’s a loud crash when the spears collide and Claude knocks Dimitri off his feet. The whole room is silent as everyone watches how Claude taps the blunt end of his practice spear against Dimitri’s chin. “Steady on there, darling,” he says with a smug grin. Dimitri flushes bright red, and pushes with more force than necessary the spear away, quickly climbing to his feet.

“That wasn’t bad.” Byleth quickly steps in before Dimitri can throttle Claude. “Dimitri, you rely too much on your brute strength. That’s a big disadvantage against someone like Claude. And you, young man,” she turns to Claude who’s been smiling victoriously, “are scheming too much and lose time to take action. In a serious battle, you won’t be as lucky as today.”

“Noted.” Claude whirls his spear from left to right, almost dropping it when Dimitri drills his elbow into his side. “But in a serious battle, I won’t be upfront. I’ll be hanging back nicely, and skewing my enemies with a myriad of arrows.”

“You can barely shoot three at the same time,” Dimitri grumbles, his cheeks still splotched with red specks.

“You wanna bet—”

“That’s enough, guys, save it for then next round.” Byleth ignores their sulky expressions and turns to you, raising a single eyebrow. The message is clear. What are you waiting for?

Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. Edelgard doesn’t hesitate at all. “Let’s go.”

She strides in the middle, training axe raised. It’s made out of wood, but you don’t doubt that she’s able to severe a limb from your body if she only tries hard enough—and what you know of Edelgard is that she alwaysexceeds even her own expectations. You grip your sword tighter. It’s a clear disadvantage, but better than anything else you can handle. Maybe it won’t be as bad.

The fight lasts for about seven seconds. The moment you raise the blade, Edelgard is on you and unleashes fierce strike after strike, the power behind each hit forcing you back. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when she easily disarms you, the wooden sword flying over your heads and the edge of her axe on your throat. Somewhere behind her, you hear Byleth sigh. “Again.”

The next hour is torture. Edelgard throws you to the ground, again and again. Byleth keeps telling you to get up, again and again. One might think they would cut you some slack, being the Herald and all, but it feels like Edelgard is so much more aggressive today because you’re the Herald. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe she’s appointed you to be her sworn enemy, and won’t miss out any chance to make it as hard as possible for you.

This isn’t fun. Being watched by Dimitri and Claude, who whisper conspiratorially to each other isn’t fun. Luckily, Byleth notices them gawking and bellows them to focus on working on their stances. Right now, you’re thankful nothing escapes her eyes and she calls her students out on their bullshit. It doesn’t make your current situation easier though. Every muscle burns, just raising the sword is exhausting and your feet feel like they’re about to give out any second. This must be hell.

When Byleth finally ends lessons, you ignore everything and crumble to the ground, splaying your limbs out in all directions. Surely they can clean up without you, two hands less will barely make any difference.

A shadow settles over you. You know who it is, and don’t bother to open your eyes. “Go away, Byleth. I don’t want to hear how bad I am.”

“Personally, I think you have improved, Herald.” Your eyes snap open. Dimitri looks down at you, his forehead still glistening from perspiration. “But facing Edelgard as an opponent usually wields those results. Don’t let it bother you.”

You want to point out that he and Claude don’t seem to have as much problems as you, even though yes, none of them have defeated her yet in practice. He goes down to your level and sits beside you, and you hate how this all barely made him breath hard, like it’s just a stroll around the monastery whereas you’re trying to climb the mountains surrounding it.

“I think she hates me,” you blurt out. Luckily, most students have already left the hall, Edelgard included. Dimitri considers this a moment, and you don’t know what to make of his lack of immediate response.

“I doubt she hates you,” he finally says.

“But?”

“But she has a hard time warming up to people. Give her time. Once the ice is broken, you will see that her personality is one you’d like to have around.”

“Oh?” You watch him for a moment, but Dimitri doesn’t blush or look away. It was a heartfelt, sincere statement, which flusters you for some reason. No one should be that honest.

“Talking about breaking ice. Do you know if something happened to Sylvain?”

“Sylvain?” Dimitri raises both eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me he harassed you in some kind of way.”

“No, no, he just—” You finally get up from lying on your back, and try to explain it by frantically moving your hands. Dimitri still looks puzzled. “He said some weird things about Crests in general?”

“Hm.” Dimitri stares at your hands for a moment, then quickly raises his eyes back to your face. “It’s complicated.” Well, that answer is as good as none. “And I won’t go into details without his consent. I can only say that if he talked about Crests, in whichever way, his brother must have upset him again.”

“He has a brother?” Now you’re wide awake. Many students have siblings. You know of Hilda’s brother and Raphael’s sister. It shouldn’t surprise you Sylvain has one as well even though he’s never mentioned it before.

“Do you have siblings?” you ask, generously curious. As heir to a kingdom, it’s hard to imagine his parents would have settled with one child. But he hasn’t mentioned any sisters or brothers as well.

“Hmm, I have a step-sister,” he says, although very hesitant and you can see if someone doesn’t want to talk about a specific topic. He doesn’t return the question, which is kind of him and makes you wonder … maybe you have a sibling as well. Somewhere. Maybe somewhere in Adrestia or Leicester a younger brother or an older sister is currently looking for you, unrelenting in their journey to be reunited at last. The thought alone brings a flicker of hope alive. Maybe they'll come once word of the Herald’s return travels far enough.

“I guess as long as Sylvain doesn’t disturb classes or acts out of order, I would leave him to his brooding. I can tell out of experience, only Felix is capable of cheering him up.”

“Felix?” Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Are we talking about the same Felix?”

A smile forms on Dimitri’s mouth. “I understand why imagining that might prove difficult, but I assure you, Felix is one of the view exceeding in handling the mess Sylvain is from time to time.”

“Felix and Ingrid?” you guess, earning a nod from Dimitri. “Ingrid is a very nice girl,” you continue, picking at a loose thread from your uniform. “But Felix seems detests me. Every time he sees me, he looks like he wants to throw his sword at me.”

“That is—” Dimitri stops mid-sentence. “That might be not so far off from his true intentions.”

You groan.

“But I assure you it is for a different reason than you think. Felix is simply … difficult with people holding a commanding position.”

“He doesn’t seem to have the same problem with Byleth,” you point out. No, whenever he trains with her, he manages something close to a smile and accepts her guidance. Then again, she isn’t his teacher.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to make him consider his opinion on you during the Mock Battle. I as well am looking forward to how you will guide us.” Dimitri beams. You stare at him like he’s just lost his head.

“What?”

“The Mock Battle three nights from today?” Dimitri’s smile falters a little. “Have the Professor and Lady Rhea not told you yet? You are to participate in the Mock Battle as the commanding unit of the Blue Lions.” Now he’s pulling his eyebrows together in worry. “Herald?”

“I—” You jump to your feet. “I have to go.” Go far far away. Just yesterday you introduced the students to the tactic called Feigned Withdrawal, which involves staging a retreat in order to induce the enemy to abandon its position and plunge ahead in an attack. Dimitri abandons his position, getting up to go after you, but instead of turning back to surprise him with an ambush, you flee the battle and hope the enemy doesn’t pursue.

43 notes · View notes

mosh-4 · 4 years

Text

“we’re really funny” pt. 2

harry styles imagine

“we’re really funny” pt. 2 - the aftermath of the tiktok

“we’re really funny”

you woke up the next morning to your phone blowing up. you rolled over to grab your phone from your nightstand. you had notifications from practically every social media app you had and text messages from almost all of your friends and family. you had multiple texts from your cousin.

(y/c/n): im so sorry

(y/c/n): that was such a bad idea

(y/c/n): shit

(y/c/n): i think some of the fans followed my Instagram

(y/c/n): i posted those pictures from your wedding

(y/c/n): it’s all good now. i made my account private

you let out a sigh and rolled back over to face your sleeping husband. you drew your attention back to your phone and replied to your cousin.

you: it’s okay. don’t stress.

after you hit send, you opened your Instagram. you were thankful for your account being private, but now you had thousands of follow requests. they must have gotten your Instagram from the pictures on your cousin’s account that you were tagged in.

you scroll down to the picture from your wedding.

you smile at the picture. thankfully, your cousin hadn’t tagged you or Harry. you laughed to yourself at your comment on her post. why had you decided to wear those gigantic heels?

Harry stirred next to you before turning to face you with his eyes barely open.

“good morning,” he mumbled still half asleep.

“good morning, lovie,” you reply admiring his sleepy appearance. his hair was disheveled with curls all over the place.

“hmmm,” he hummed opening his eyes to look at you. “so what’s the damage?”

“i haven’t really looked. (y/c/n) said a bunch of fans followed her before she could make her account private.”

Harry reached for his phone on his nightstand. his thumbs tapped over the screen for a minute before he spoke up. he got on twitter and looked through his mentions. some of the pictures of the two of you together were already circulating. they were pictures that the fans had already seen, yet now they had paid more attention to your presence in each picture. some fans had theories that you two were together. others thought you were just a friend.

the pictures they had taken from (y/c/n)’s account added fuel to the fire. she had posted pictures of the her, you, and Harry from christmas and thanksgiving. he was also seen in the background of some pictures. the picture from the wedding seemed to be the most popular. even though he wasn’t featured in the picture, fans were trying to connect the dots between the you and Harry. if you were married, did that make Harry just a friend? the fans didn’t know what to think, which really fueled their speculation and theories.

“i got a few messages from Jeff and Grimmy,” he said breaking the silence. “Jeff wants to know if we are going public, and Grimmy said if we were going public, he wants us to come on his show.”

you were silent for a minute. did you want to go public? so soon? yet, there was no purpose of keeping it secret anymore. you were married now. nothing was gonna change that.

“should we?” you ask him.

his eyes moved to you before placed his phone on the bed and turning fully toward you.

“do you want to?”

“i’d be okay with it,” you said. “it’s not like they would know every aspect of our lives. they would just know about us.”

“you’d be giving up your privacy though,” he said. “i can’t ask you to do that.”

you sat up. the sheets pooled at your waist as you did so.

“hey dingbat,” you started. “i married you. i knew what i was getting into. i’m okay with it.”

he laughed at you. you only called him “dingbat” when he said something stupid or idiotic. you had a habit of calling the people you love by insulting names. it was one of your ways of showing affection. he never really understood it. maybe, it had something to do with growing up with your older cousins who would pick on you, but he wasn’t sure.

“i know. i just worry about you. you could get mobbed by fans or paps. you are going to lose part of your freedom of flying under the radar,” he said taking your hand in his. “i just want to keep you safe.”

“and i will be, haz. i’m always cautious.” you place your hands on his cheeks. “we’ll be alright.”

Harry was silent for a beat. you could tell he was contemplating the pros and cons of the situation.

“so we’re doing it then?” he asked. “you’re absolutely sure?”

“yes. i am absolutely sure,” you say dropping your hands from his face. “i think it’s time we let a few more people into our little world.”

Harry sat up with you reaching for his phone.

“and by a few, you mean a couple thousands, maybe millions?”

“sure,” you shrug.

he gave you a goofy grin before he began typing on his phone.

“how should we do it?” he asked looking to you. “should i post something? or tweet something?”

“you could post pictures from the wedding, and i can make my account public. i have wedding pictures on there.”

he nodded before his gaze was fixed on his screen while he scrolled. he started to smirk.

“you’re gonna have to help me pick. you’re so beautiful in all of these.”

you gave him a goofy smile before tucking yourself under his arm. you laid your head onto his chest so you could see his phone screen.

Harry sent a text to Jeff and Grimmy letting them both know that they were going public before he went back to the wedding pictures. you both scrolled through them remembering the day.

“i love this one,” you said stopping at the picture of the two of you holding each other. you could only see the back of your dress and hair with his hair and hands. it was beautiful and perfect for posting on his Instagram. it was intimate, yet there wasn’t a lot of PDA.

“i do, too,” he said. “should i use this one?”

“yeah, i like it. it’s perfect.”

you watching him as he uploaded the picture to his Instagram. he captioned it with your wedding date before posting it.

“you should post one, too.” he said looking down to you. “we are doing this together, after all.”

you laugh.

“okay,” you picked your phone up from the bed. “help me find a picture. we should do a different one than the one you posted. the fans are going to want more content.”

“i swear to god if you weren’t married to me, you’d be one of them,” he laughed.

you sit up a bit leaning up to look at him with a shocked face placing a hand on your chest.

“excuse me,” you scoffed. “i may have matured a bit, but i am still a fan of one direction. i know my people.”

he laughed before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“yes, you do, love. yes, you do,” he murmured into your hair.

you scrolled through the rest of the pictures until you got to the fun ones taken at your reception. you both laughed at the pictures of your brother and cousins attempting to dance as if they were in a nightclub. there was one of you and your cousin in the middle of your secret handshake while you were dancing with Harry and she was dancing with her boyfriend. you finally landed on another one of your favorites.

“ooo,” Harry said stopping you. “i like this one.”

it was a picture of the two of you dancing with you looking up at him laughing and him smiling down at you.

“me too,” you hummed in agreement. “should i post it?”

“yeah, i love that one. it’s got your smile.” he wrapped his arms around you a bit tighter.

“you’re a sap,” you said laughing.

“hmmm. i know.”

you entered your Instagram, and you made your account public. you uploaded the post and began to write your caption before you posted it.

you both laid back in bed while you scrolled through the comments and tweets about the two of you. you watched the chaos of your husband’s fans, and you laughed together at some of their tweets.

you both sent messages to each of your families letting them that you announced it to the world and that it was safe for them to share it as well.

Grimmy sent Harry another text.

grimmy: so will i see you on radio 1?

Harry turned to you.

“Grimmy wants to know if we’ll go on his show,” he said.

you looked up from your phone.

“the both of us?”

“yeah, you up for it?”

“hmmm,” you hummed while you thought about it. “i guess so.”

“it’s Grimmy. what’s could go wrong?” Harry shrugged.

you sat up.

“literally everything. literally everything could go wrong. have you met him?” you joked.

he laughed in agreement. Grimmy was a friend, but he did have his way of embarrassing the both of you.

“i’ll tell him we’ll do it,” he laughed while typing on his phone.

“mkay,” you said laying back down on Harry’s shoulder.

you scrolled through the comments a bit more laughing at your friend’s and cousin’s responses and reactions. you were glad that you went public. you got to share your love with the world, and it was so refreshing.

you were so grateful for that damn tiktok.

hope you enjoyed! feel free to send requests - mosh

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry styles x y/n #one direction #onedirection #one direction imagines

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noodlyfun-blog · 3 years

Text

Mystics and Malice

I have new stars that fly above me. They’re bright; the brightest is green like Gugo’s hair. They form no constellation but make a foundation. I sit in a tall tower, surrounded by lightning on the top floor. Nothing is keeping me inside but I like looking out into the distance. Way off is a visible island, the sea is no longer infinite and dark, over it I can see the old stars of my dreams. Odd that they sit over land now when they used to just rest over sea. Primary color is a deep blue, blue like the oceans.

The tall Viera, illuminated in a dull orange by candles, sighed deeply and closed her diary. She hadn't been keeping up with her dreams as she had wanted and knew she had forgotten some details; but dreams are temporary like these days spent in a city. Alaria took one last look around her makeshift tent; her tea kettle resting over a small fire, a couple empty chairs across from her, a small table with only an assortment of odds and ends resting atop, and a depressingly empty jar next to her that simply read ‘Tips’. It was a rough night outside the tent with rain falling in sheets and thus it was a bad night for customers. The woman stuffed her diary back in her bag and replaced it with a single night-blue teacup. She'd at least enjoy a sip of hot tea before making her way through the cold night for the ship.

Alaria had just lifted the hot kettle when a pair stumbled their way into the Viera's tent. She couldn't make out too many details of the two as they both had their own drenched cloaks wrapped tightly around their faces. Neither had a tail nor discernable ears. They were neither very small nor very tall. Neither seemed to acknowledge the Viera at the other side of the table, their wide eyes darting in every direction and to each other. Alaria couldn't tell if they were shivering from the cold or trembling in fear. She decided that it must be both.

"Welcome my dear new friends. Please have yourself a seat." The two jumped in surprise when Alaria spoke in her sagely, mysterious witch tone as they realized they weren't alone.

"You're both in luck as I was about to read my leaves. Come grab yourself a seat and share a cup of tea with me." The two were hesitant and just stared at the Viera with wide, fear-filled eyes but she got a better glimpse of their faces. They both had gray eyes and the same nose, clearly siblings, maybe twins. The Viera smiled at them while placing the kettle on the table. "Come now, it's very warm."

The promise of warmth loosened the two up and they tentatively stepped deeper into the tent, eyeing the flap they entered warily as they sat. Alaria rose to her feet and blew out all the candles except one and extinguished her little stove taking the fairly lit tent into a barely illuminated haven. She returned to her chair to see the pair more at ease with the lights dimmed.

The Viera returned to her chair and pulled out two more tea cups. She filled all three cups with hot water before opening a jar with loose tea leaves. She sprinkled a fair amount into each cup.

"Now while those are heating up, how about you tell me your names my new friends? Mine is Alaria, reader of the stars and teller of the moon." She spoke barely above a whisper with a sing-song seer voice. The two removed the cloaks from their head to reveal dirty but young faces, they both had to be a few years younger than Alaria. One sported some face around the face that barely passed for a beard and the other had a ring through their nostrils and long, red hair.

"I'm Erryl and this is my brother Philipe" said the one with the piercing with a soft voice. Philip looked upset at being introduced. Alaria paid him little mind and motioned at the cups.

"Erryl and Philipe, how wonderful for the stars to guide you to me tonight." She lowered her head slightly. "Now I want you two to think of a question that you need answered. Feel with all your being and concentrate on it as you drink your tea. And please don't drain your cup entirely, try to leave a thumbful."

Alaria studied the two from behind her own cup as they drank their tea. Philipe seemed relieved to just have something warm, but his eyes barely left his sibling and the tent flap. Erryl mouthed a silent prayer as they brought the drink to their lips and drank with their eyes tightly closed. The pair had some mud caked on their faces, probably from hiding. What clothes she could spot under their cloaks were barely better than rags. The two were also thin. She frowned that she didn't have any snacks to offer.

The Viera’s long green ear tilted toward the sound of boots splashing in the streets outside. She couldn’t make out how many pairs of boots were running out there nor the shouts being muffled by the rain and the tent. Erryl opened their eyes and Philipe tried to crouch lower into his chair at the sound outside but thankfully the boots seemed to run right past Alaria’s little tent.

"That should be enough tea for now." Alaria said to the pair as she pulled a couple spoons from her bag. The two turned their attention back to the Viera just as she had hoped and she handed them both a spoon. "Now swirl those leaves in your cups. And remember to concentrate. We want to make sure you get an answer."

Philipe half-heartedly turned his spoon in the cup, paying much more attention to the outside of the tent. Erryl had returned their full attention to theirs and swirled and swirled, the spoon occasionally clinking the edge of the glass. Alaria watched them but began putting a few items in her bag. Normally there would be some expected theatrics as she tried to cultivate a mode, but tonight was not the night for it. Instead she spent a minute gathering whatever was in reach until finally telling them "Stop. That should be good."

Alaria rose to her feet and leaned in behind Erryl, placing a hand on their shoulder for comfort, to gaze into the cup. They watched as the leaves settled into place; Philipe's leg began to twitch. The leaves danced and danced as Philipe’s leg bounced faster and faster and the rain dropped harder and harder. But as the leaves finally settled into their place, Alaria gave a big “hmmm” and squeezed Erryl’s shoulder.

“Ahh a wing.” She said tracing the outline of a wing with her fingers. Erryl leaned in more closely and even Philipe calmed down to watch.

“What does the wing mean?” Erryl asked softly.

“It means you need to find your freedom. You are caged; held down by some oppressor.” Alaria says barely above a whisper. Both siblings’ eyes dart first to each other and then the Viera.“You may be crushed from a danger unless you find your own wings and fly to your own freedom.”

“The Hikari Family wants to kill my brother!” Erryl blurted at the Viera; her voice cracking with a plea.

“Quiet Erryl! We can’t trust anyone!” Philipe interjected, his voice strained.

“You heard her though! We need to run!”

“What do you think we’re doing?!”

“Please! You have to help us. We have nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Please!” Alaria saw tears forming in Erryl’s eyes. Their brother looked absolutely exasperated. She pulled Erryl in for a quick hug.

“My dear new friend, you were guided into my tent tonight.” Alaria gave her most reassuring smile to both of them. The pair shared an uncertain look with each other as the Viera grabbed her bag. "I have a ship docked right now and we go back a-sea in two nights time. You can hide there and then we can get you out of the city."

“And you’d help us just like that?! Erryl! We can’t trust this woman! There’s no reason for her aid us, no reason for her to not sell us for some gil!” Philipe pleaded with his sibling. Meanwhile, Alaria had already begun stuffing her bag with some of her things.

“Philipe. If she were to turn us in, she would have already. She’s done nothing but kindness for us.” Erryl reasoned.

“Listen to your sibling Phil. I can tell that neither of you are armed so you’ll want to stick close.” The Viera had made it to the flap of her tent and opened it. “Come on then. Let’s open your wings and fly out of this city, hm?”

With a resigned sigh, Philipe relented to following their new guide out of the city. Alaria prayed her tent wouldn’t be moved by morning so she could collect it; she had grown rather fond of its ugly purple cloth. It was a long and harsh trek with bitingly cold winds and sharp downpour of icy rain as the three wove their way through backstreets and alleyways. The Viera kept an open ear and cautious eye to avoid any armed looking guard on their hike. Unfortunately for the trio, the cold rain made for empty cobblestone streets which meant no hiding in crowds. Fortunately though, the weather made the street lanterns nearly ineffective; their orange glows dimmed or dead in the winds.

No crowds meant slower movement as to not be seen. They had to have been sneaking their way for at least a bell in this miserable weather before finally spotting the docks across a bridge. Alaria ducked behind a box as the other two hid behind some barrels; one guard stood stoically in the middle of the bridge with his back toward the group. They could try and find another way across and into the docks but Erryl and Philipe were waning with each step. It was clear to Alaria that they were exhausted and needed rest.

There was only one clear solution Alaria sighed. She motioned for the others to stay down as she stood straight up. A small line of purple aether began to swirl around the Viera’s right wrist. She summoned all her anger toward those who would oppress and the line of aether became a pool encompassing her wrist. She invoked all the loathing she had for herself and the pool of aether swallowed her entire arm. She called forth the malice toward Her and the aether shot from her arm. Alaria glared at this man as her violet aether shocked through his body. He crumpled there and the Viera strolled toward his body. Maybe he was still alive but it didn’t matter to her as she rolled his limp form into the black waters below. She beckoned the siblings and they continued along.

Finally they had made it. Only Boone stood guard but his was a giant with an axe; only the foolhardy would dare tempt him. He grunted as the trio made their way aboard.

#ffxiv rp #FFXIV #alaria moone #Roleplaying Alaria FFXIV

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch42: Maybe Baby Part 2- Between The Toaster And The Fridge

Intro: Steve comes home to a very, special welcome…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N- More thanks to @angrybirdcr

Chapter 42 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The recruits around Steve were laughing, and he had to smile himself. He’d just told them the story about how he had managed to get a flag down from the top of a pole once when he was training, right before he go the serum. He’d taken the pins out of the bottom of the pole causing it to crash to the floor where as everyone else had tried to climb it, including Gilmore Hodge. God, what a prick he had been.

“So, the moral of the story is just because it’s the path of least resistance, it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.” Steve looked around at the assembled team, smiling to himself as he repeated the words Natasha had once said to him, words he hadn’t agreed with in that circumstance but here, well, they fit. “Consider each task on its own merit. Decide what your end goal is and then look for the simplest, safest and least strenuous way to achieve it. Conserve your energy for when there’s no other option open to you because that’s the time that you’ll truly need it.”

With that he nodded to Rhodey and moved to the side of the room, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked at the assembled trainees. They seemed like a good bunch this lot, receptive to his advice and teaching which was an improvement on the lot he’d had a month or so back in Colorado. They’d been a nightmare and when they were awkward it made being away from his girls so much more of a chore. At least when they were like this, it made him feel like it was worthwhile. He took a few more questions, gave a bit more advice before they called it for the day and he headed back to his room to make sure he was packed, ready to head home the next afternoon. It had been three weeks this time, and whilst he’d spoken to Katie and Emmy every night it still didn’t make him feel any better at being away from them, even though he knew it was part and parcel of his job.

It also wasn’t helping their baby-making plans either.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he smiled when he saw who it was. Flopping down on the bed he beamed at Katie.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey handsome.” she smiled, yawning slightly

“What you been up to?”

“Been busy with this Half Way Home proposal.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, Pepper’s giving it the once over before we send it into the Senate. I don’t think they’ll have an issue, I mean we’re not asking for funding but with them behind us it means the sale should go through easier.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned.” He smiled “Bet Natasha is pleased.” “Hmmm” Katie frowned. “She’s flown off again this evening.”

He groaned “Johannesburg?”

“Yeah.” she shrugged “She won’t give up. Says she owes it to Clint to try.”

“She’s on a hiding to nothing.” Steve sighed “I don’t know what she thinks she can do.” “Who knows, but if it makes her feel better who are we to argue. We’d do the same in her position.” And Steve had nothing else he could say on the matter, as he knew she was right. He had done the same, pretty much.

“Can’t want to get home tomorrow.” he changed the subject, smiling. “Three weeks apart isn’t exactly helpful on the whole trying-not-trying front is it?”

“Not really no.” Katie gave a soft laugh

Steve grinned cheekily “Every time I’ve jacked off in the shower I’ve had this horrible, guilty feeling that I could be washing a little me down the-“ “Oh my God!” Katie snorted as Steve laughed loudly, his right hand flying to his chest “You’re disgusting!”

“You love it!” he smirked, and she sighed and looked at him.

“I love you.” she said simply, and he could do nothing but grin stupidly back at the screen.

“Hi Jen!” Katie greeted as she walked up to the coffee counter, Emmy walking behind it like she owned the place, casually heading into the back to find Brooke.

“Hi!” Jen turned to her, “Usual?” “Erm, to be honest with you coffee isn’t what I’m after today.” she said “Had a disgusting hangover yesterday that I’m still recovering from so can I get a tea and one of those Danishes please?”

Jenifer chortled, “Take a seat I’ll bring it over and join you for a bit.” Katie smiled, paid for her drink and food and headed over to the comfy sofas by the window. Sinking into the well-worn leather she pulled out her phone and flicked through a few emails, pleased to see Pepper had proof read their proposal and made a few minor tweaks. She had just fired it off to her secretary to make the changes and forward on when Jennifer sat opposite her, pushing her food and drink over the table. Katie was that hungry she wolfed the pastry down in about four bits, before leaning back, wiping her fingers with a napkin.

“I think sugar and carbs maybe the way forward today” she laughed “I feel better already.”

“Why is it the older you get, the longer hangovers last?” the woman asked and Katie shrugged.

“Gone are the days I could sink shot after shot and still make it out unscathed.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea appreciatively “Being an adult sucks.” She spent a few hours at the coffee shop, leaving Emmy there after Jennifer had assured her it was ok for her to stay, before heading into the city to find Steve a gift. This year, four, was either fruit, flowers, linen or silk. Which was a random combination when you thought about it. But she found a really nice grey linen blazer that would suit Steve, and smirking to herself, bought a silk slip that she could wear to bed. Always nice to keep him on his toes as she had said last year.

She picked Emmy up and then stopped on the way home to fuel up the Camero, As she leaned against the side of the car, watching the numbers tick over on the pump, the smell of gasoline filled her nostrils, almost choking her and she was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited straight onto the floor.

“Fucks sake.” she groaned, as she managed to compose herself, waiting for the feeling to subside. Thankfully Emmy was too engrossed in something on her phone to notice. Eventually, her stomach stopped flipping and she finished, paid and headed back to the Compound, wondering if she was coming down with a bug. But then, as she walked down the corridor with her bags the strong stench of bleach from one of the labs made her once again feel the need to hurl.

Something clicked in her mind and she paused, suddenly feeling very hot.

“Hey.” Bruce looked at her as he appeared from the lab. “You alright? You look a bit pale.” “Yeah, fine.” she nodded, swallowing “Just remembered, I forgot to grab something. Emmy, can you take these up to the apartment and go straight to Nat? Bruce do you mind just…”

“No, course not.” He smiled, “In fact, I have something to show you Em. Remember that research I was doing into the…”

Katie didn’t stay to hear the rest, Emmy wandered off after Bruce chatting away, whilst she turned back the way she had come and hurried back to the car.

***** Steve walked back into the apartment and was greeted by a whirl of sandy fur before Katie appeared hurriedly crossing the hallway to throw herself into his arms.

“Missed you.” He smiled, as he bent to give her a kiss.

“I missed you too.” she pouted, her hands fisting into his light blue button down “Three weeks is far too long, I don’t like it.” “I know, sorry baby.” he smiled “Where’s Emmy?”

“Nat’s” Katie said as she turned and headed back to the kitchen “I know it isn’t our anniversary until tomorrow but I wanted get you all to myself right away.”

“Yeah? Got something in mind?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nipping at her neck before he rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah, feeding you.” she chuckled as his stomach gave a loud rumble “Hungry?” “I’m always hungry.” he pouted, his arms still wrapped tightly round her “Doesn’t help that whatever you’ve been baking smells so good.”

“Saffron buns.” She smiled and Steve let out a groan off delight as his stomach rumbled again “And seeing as you’re so keen to get your hands on one, can you get them out of the oven?” she nodded towards it and twisted away from his hold “I’m almost done with the rest of the food.”

Grumbling slightly at the loss of her warmth against his chest, he straightened up and pulled the metal and glass door open before he frowned. A single bun sat on the tray in the middle of the large oven. What was that about?

“Honey, what…” He turned to look at Katie who was stood behind him, biting her lip. He frowned, before he turned back to the bun in the…

Oh. Oh!

Steve spun round that fast he nearly fell over. Katie smiled at him, her eyes shining at the look of surprise on his handsome face.

“You’re - um. You - you’re…?” Steve couldn’t quite form his words. Katie smiled, as he swallowed hard “Katie…”

“Yeah. Although I think the correct term might be ‘we.’”

“Sweetheart you…” he looked at his wife, not quite able to believe what she was saying “We’re, really having a baby?” “Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing slightly as she reached for him then with both hands, cupping his face in her fingers. “We are. You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.”

“Shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh “I’m gonna be a daddy!” with that he pulled her into his arms and swung her up in the air, the same way he had done when she’d agreed to marry him, causing her to laugh before he gently brought her down again, her arms sliding around his neck as he set her on her feet, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“How far gone, do you know?” He asked, pulling back an inch. “Not sure. It can’t be that far but I have an appointment with the ob-gyn tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything was okay after, you know…”

Steve glanced down at her stomach and moved his hand towards it, pausing.

“You don’t have to ask.” Katie smiled softly, taking his hand in hers and guiding it onto her stomach. Steve took a deep breath as his fingers splayed out gently across her belly under her palm, his face shining with pure unadulterated emotion as his eyes stayed focused on his hand.

He had never felt so happy or so alive in his life.

*****

A tiny blip. Nothing more than what looked like static brought tears to both their eyes as Dr Kellet pointed to the image.

“Well, Mrs Rogers” she smiled “from this I estimate you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant.” “Eight weeks?” Steve asked, as he did the maths in his head. Eight weeks took them back to the fourth of July, his birthday…

Katie grinned to herself as she felt Steve’s arms slide around her waist and his lips gently brushing on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin.

“I’m trying to cook you lunch here.” she sighed as his hand worked beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skated into her underwear.

“Want me to stop?” he asked as her head fell back against his shoulder and she bit her lip.

“Didn’t say that.” she muttered as his fingers slipped further into her folds, finding her spot. His other hand slipped up her vest top and splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him further and she let out a soft squeak as he slipped one finger into her. He continued to work her, she was putty in his hands and eventually when he knew she was close he moved and spun her round, pulling her to him, his arousal pressing into her as he kissed her, hard, his hands cupping her cheeks as he backed her into the wall. Her hands strayed down to the buckle of his belt and she quickly undid it, wasting no time as she slipped her hand into his boxers, grasping him hard. He bucked at the touch and let out a hiss.

“Easy soldier.” she grinned into his mouth as he let out a groan, his hands dropping to her shorts. In a flash she was out of them and her underwear and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, back pressed against the kitchen wall.

“Shut up.” he mumbled, kissing her hard and she laughed into his mouth, a laugh that turned into a gasp as he pushed into her with no warning at all.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you doll.” He growled and her head rolled back, banging slightly on the light yellow painted wall. “Say that again.” she moaned.

He punctuated each word with a hard thrust “I’m…gonna…fuck…a…baby…into…you…” he purred, one hand resting by her head on the wall, the other snaking under her top and pulling down the cups of her bra. He rolled each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger leaving her grinding down against him for more friction as she kissed him again, hard, her gasps coming thick and fast as he rutted up, his hips snapping back and forth in a fast and deep rhythm. Steve let out a groan, his tongue sliding against hers sending the familiar red hot pokers of desire straight to his belly. His wife still managed to turn him on as much as the first time they’d ever been intimate together, despite there being what felt like a life time of ups and downs since then. If anything he was convinced that’s what made it better. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every dip, every scar, blemish freckle and she knew his, each and every single inch of his skin, his limbs. Her hands grasped at his back, sliding up his t-shirt, nails raking down his skin, the stinging sensation causing him to grunt again as his rhythm picked up slightly, gaining momentum as he could feel himself going. “Come on, baby.” He muttered, his forehead pressed against hers “Wanna see you let go.”

“Stevie.” Her voice was a whisper, as her eyes fluttered closed for a second and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her mouth falling slack for a moment as her head tilted back. He moved the hand that was against the wall to her neck, holding her head in place and when her eyes opened again, those beautiful green orbs locked onto his she gave a low, sultry moan and he felt her walls tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He mumbled as the strands in his stomach began to tighten “I love you, so much.” and with a final few snaps of his hips he came with a loud moan, his head falling to her shoulder, lips latching onto her neck as he thrust through his orgasm, before he stilled, both of them catching their breath.

Their baby had been conceived between the toaster and the fridge.

“So from that you’re estimated due date is the ninth April…” Dr Kellet smiled, tapping at something on her computer and then turning to gently wipe off the gel she had placed on Katie’s stomach. “So, do you have any questions?”

Of course Steve did. He spent a full thirty minutes drilling the woman about all the types of things Katie could and couldn’t do. Dr Kellet smiled, before she answered all of them, and some he hadn’t asked, in particular one about how sex was fine up until the birth if Katie was comfortable, warning him in fact that many pregnant women felt a spike in their libido in their second trimester. This caused Steve to flush and Katie to silently snigger.

“And lastly, I do hate to warn you about this as well but the term morning sickness, its bullshit. Should be called All Day Sickness”

“Tell me about it” Katie rolled her eyes. “Smells are the worst trigger.”

“Yeah, that’s very common.” the Dr Smiled “The good news is it should die down, if not go completely by about twenty weeks, but just keep yourself hydrated and rest up to avoid fatigue.”

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at her, “I’ll bear it in mind.”

As they walked back to the car, Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s shoulder and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. She smiled to herself, leaning into his touch as he gripped the scan photo they had been given with his other hand.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the car keys. “I know.” Katie’s voice was little more than a whisper. Steve turned to face her, his hands linking at the bottom of her spine “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” “We’re not telling everyone until twelve weeks is up.” she said, shaking her head “Bar Tony, Natasha, and Emmy.”

“Now?” He grinned, and Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck.

“So impatient, Captain Badass.” She grinned as she leaned up to kiss him. “But yeah, let’s pay Tony a visit!”

Steve spent the entire forty-five minute journey grinning like an idiot, chatting about plans for nurseries and all sorts of stuff, he was incandescently excited. Katie simply let him go on, his happiness was infectious although she did at one point have to get him to pull over so she could vomit out of the passenger door.

Steve was out of the car like a shot and round to the other side, crouching down, his hand gently stroking Katie’s flushed cheek.

“You okay?” He asked, his face concerned as she reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder.

“Get used to this.” She groaned, laying her head back against the head rest.

As they walked up the driveway to the porch, Pepper spotted them immediately from where she was sat on a chair on the grass, Morgan happily led on her tummy on the tartan blanket. She greeted them as they approached and Morgan let out a loud shriek at the sound of their voices.

“Moo, you’ve gotten so big!” Steve smiled as he swept her up and she beamed back at him.

“Well you haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” Pepper chuckled, as Steve gently pulled faces at the infant, causing her to give him a huge smile. “They grow fast.” “You’re not kidding.” Steve mused and Katie smiled, unable to stop her heart blooming at the thought that he would be doing that soon enough with their own baby.

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled, walking out of the house and dropping onto a seat next to Pepper. “Not that it’s not nice to see you but we weren’t expecting you.” “Yeah, well, we err, have some news that we kinda wanted to tell you in person.” Katie glanced up at Steve as he gently placed Morgan back on the blanket and Katie sat on the wicker couch opposite her brother and Pepper, Steve perching on the arm next to her.

Pepper twigged immediately, smiling at Katie who grinned back.

“What’s the matter?” Tony frowned, “Are you sick? Is something wrong with the business?”

“Oh come on Tony, isn’t it obvious?” Pepper looked at him

“Errr no.” he frowned. “What-” he looked at his sister “-what’s supposed to be obvious?”

Katie glanced at Steve who gave her a grin before he turned and looked at his brother-in-law.

“You’re gonna be an uncle, Tony!” he smiled, dropping an arm round Katie’s shoulders.

Tony stared for a minute and then slapped his knees triumphantly, a huge grin breaking across his face. “You’re kidding me! Really? Really?” He leaned forward, intently scrutinizing Katie’s midsection until she tossed a throw pillow at his head. He dodged it, looked at her for a moment before he jumped up and swept her into an enormous hug. She stood up to greet him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, that’s, wow, it’s awesome!” He spluttered.

“Thanks Tony.” She sniffed, stepping back as her brother reached up and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Guys, congratulations.” Pepper gave Steve a hug and then turned to Katie when Tony had finally released her, giving the younger woman a squeeze.

“Wow, Baby America - you gonna dress him in star spangled diapers?” Tony paused, faltering, as he was shaking Steve’s hand. “Or her, or maybe one of each?”

“One of each?” Steve frowned.

“It isn’t twins.” Katie rolled her eyes

“You gonna find out what it is?” Pepper asked.

“I dunno we haven’t discussed it.”

“Wait, they can find out?” Steve frowned “They can find out what it is before it’s born?” Tony looked at Steve “Remind me how long you’ve been defrosted?”

“Tony.” Pepper warned him before she turned to Steve “Yes, Steve they can.” “But you guys didn’t?” He frowned. “We didn’t want to know.” Tony shrugged, dropping a kiss onto the side of Pepper’s head before he clapped his hands together. “This causes for a celebration, only not you young lady.” He pointed at Katie and she rolled her eyes “Yes, beers.” he continued chunnering away to himself, heading back to the house.

“You two okay to watch Morgan?” Pepper asked gesturing to where Morgan lay on her back, legs wriggling furiously “Just keep an eye on her, anything she can get hold of she’s sticking in her mouth…”

The two of them nodded and sank back into the chairs and Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, his arm curling round her shoulders as she snuggled into him, kicking off her shoes so she could swing her feet up onto the cushion besides her.

“Happy?” He asked.

“Ridiculously” she responded, giving him a soft kiss.

***** Later that night they broke their happy news to Emmy, only she didn’t react the way they had expected.

“So,” she looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted around one another, the way they always did when she was worried, “does this mean I need to pack my bags?” “What?” Katie frowned, “Why would us having a baby mean you need to pack your bags?” “Coz, well, you’ll have your own kid now.” she shrugged “Not like you’ll want me around.” Steve and Katie shared a look and Steve shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of the girl as Katie sat on the arm of the chair she was in.

“Of course we want you around.” Steve looked at the girl “Emmy, you’re part of our family now, and all this means is that our family is getting a bit bigger.”

Emmy looked up at Steve, her eyes shining with tears, before she looked at Katie, and melted into her arms as the woman gave her a hug.

“You have a home with us for as long as you want.” Katie pulled back, smiling “And besides,” she winked, “you’ll be our chief babysitter.”

Later that night, when she was getting changed for bed, Steve couldn’t help but just watch Katie as she moved around the bedroom in her sleep shorts and bra. The fact she was growing his baby just made her all the more beautiful to him, and when he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore, he threw his legs off the bed and moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she finished cleaning her teeth. One hand came to rest on her hip, while his other hand slipped down, palm spread protectively over her bare abdomen as he pressed tender kisses to her cheek and throat.

"I love you,” he whispered softly against her ear.

She leaned back against him, looking at the two - no, three of them in the mirror, her husband’s head bowed against hers, their child beneath his hand.

For once he fell asleep before Katie, and as she lay there, gently stroking the back of his neck she couldn’t help the immense happiness that overwhelmed her. Things were about to change, again, for them. But this time, it was a change they both welcomed.

**** Chapter 43

**Original Posting**

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