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[anya-ellington]

[anya-ellington]

tristan-tillstrom:

“Jag är okej” he said once again even if she told him not to talk. He was never good at following orders, after all, and he just had to reassure his wife that he was doing okay, all things considered. He’d be here for the rest of the day, for sure, since there were still some things they were going put him through in order to determine better just how fucked up he actually got after the accident.

He failed to get his kids from school because this damn things happened so it was relieving to hear they were by Aunt Isla now, hopefully not too worried that he didn’t show up to pick them up. “Tell them Pappa says hi when you call” he said with a smile, knowing for sure tha Anya would contact Isla later to update her on everything that happened to him and she’d talk to the kids then as well.

Discount Molly Ringwald doctor walked out after his wife asked her to do so and Tristan was more than happy to have some time alone with her now, even if he was connected to weird hospital machines. His face turned to her palm when she touched his face and he had that carefree smile of his plastered on his lips, almost as if he hadn’t nearly died a few hours ago. Anya had that effect on him, she was soothing and she made him look at her like he did when he was first falling in love with her. “Chill, woman. No need to beat up or kill anyone today, ‘kay?” he spoke as his hand moved up to take hers, fingers lacing together “I’m fine. A little beat up, but I’m fine. You’ll get lots of quality time with your man to help make him feel better” he added in a more playful manner, hoping to calm a little that murderous rage against the idiot who caused the accident. “I’m definitely looking forward to that”.

One of Tristan’s ever so delightful traits was his inability to follow directions. Anya sighed when he repeated himself, eyes narrowing as if to test this theory, though she merely clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Disobedience wasn’t allowed at home with the kids, and though Tristan was a grown adult Anya couldn’t help but think this recovery would be rather difficult for him. She’d have to grab a list of instructions from the nurse to keep him in line. Surely one of them would be rested, and he probably would have to take some time off of work. Luckily they had Isla, who happened to be very supportive and useful in the Tillstrom household. Anya couldn’t help but smile as her husband spoke again. Of course she’d let the kids know their pappa was alright. They were probably worried sick when he hadn’t come to pick them up. “Of course. They’re probably worried they didn’t get those special treats you pick up for them. Oh yeah, I know about those, you don’t think I can’t see when they’re hyper because of sweets? Besides, Freja spilled the beans months ago.” She chuckled a bit before continuing. “I suppose it’s good they have something to look forward to after school so I didn’t say anything.” Now that he’d been outed, she hoped he wouldn’t stop the tradition. 

It was her best attempt to lighten the mood, though her eyes grazed over the wounds he’d acquired from the accent. The bruising was quite horrific, and she hoped the kids wouldn’t have to see it. His doctor and the nurse finally left the room, giving them the privacy she wanted moments ago. Without warning, she lifted herself onto his hospital bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Scoot over, this thing isn’t exactly the king sized bed we’ve got at home.” Anya joked, pressing her lips against his cheek. Her husband was alive, that’s all that mattered right now. Things could’ve gone a differently, and she couldn’t bare to think of what that might be like. A life without Tristan was a life Anya was extremely uninterested in living. “I mean, is that asshole really doing anything good in this world? He nearly killed my husband.” She pointed out, running her thumb along his skin as he took her hand in his. Her shoulder slacked a bit as her head rested against the wall behind them. A little quality time with her husband actually sounded nice, bruises and all. Perhaps the rough housing might have to be taken down a notch, and she wasn’t talking about with the kids. Sometimes their sex could get a little bit...well, it wasn’t dull, not even after marriage and three kids. It’s amazing they had yet to have a fourth. “Hm quality time with Tristan Tillstrom. I don’t know, I might be a little bit too much for you now that you’re all bruised up.” Anya muttered under her breath, lips hovering dangerously close to his with a gently smile pressed against her lips. She did love this man, very much so. 

[anya-ellington]

tristan-tillstrom:

He took a turn to the left in the same street as ever, the one that was a shortcut that saved him approximately five minutes of the drive to the school. He didn’t do it just to save time, on that very street was that donut shop Tobias loved. More often than not Tristan stopped to buy those little donut holes that tasted like apple with cinnamon. He bought a small box of those for his kids but it was something he did especially for his little man. It was a winning scenario for the girls too, of course, since Freja and Hanna loved the treat as well. It was a state secret between him and the little rascals, a secret they kept from Anya because she would most likely advise her husband against buying them so often. It was almost a tradition now so it couldn’t be helped. The kids shared that secret with him just as they surely shared other with their mom that he knew nothing about. One moment he was hearing his wife’s voice on the speaker, taking that turn he always did, and the next his car was hurled away in the opposite direction.

There were roaring noises, hectic images a shot of pain and then nothing. The blackness welcomed him for quite some time. At least that was what he was told by a doctor once he opened up his eyes again. The first coherent thought he had was that it smelled like a hospital, all sterilized and clean, so he could tell where he was right away. He felt sedated and he was quick to confirm that indeed he was, as an IV was stuck into the back of his hand, its chord going all the way up to that weird metallic coat stand looking contraption with plastic bags dangling from the top and beeping machines attached to it. The second coherent thought he had was much more important than the first, so much that it actually should have been the first thing on his mind: “Call uh… call my wife”.

The doctor did as he asked and returned after a moment to confirm Anya had been notified his sorry ass was dumped on a shitty hospital bed. The doctor didn’t use those words, of course. It really was a shitty bed, though. Hopefully they would let him go home soon. The doctor went on to enlist what had happened to him. Big concussion that had him knocked out cold for several minutes. Minor bruises and cuts. Cervical and lumbar sprains. The doctor made sure to point out just how damn lucky he was, they were just second degree sprains. The worst of his injuries was his broken rib. Rib number eight on his right side to be specific, as the doctor explained. The man had no clue which rib it was, only that it was a damn rib on his right side and that it snapped thanks to the violent crash.

Tristan paid attention to the embroidered name on the doctor’s white coat. It read Dr. Ringwald. The irony gods had done something there because the dude was a petite red-headed woman with the same prissy attitude as Molly’s character in The Beakfast Club. Discount Molly Ringwald was talking when the door of his room opened. Anya was by his side in a half a second and it took him the other half to have a smile plastered on his lips. “Hey. Jag är okej, min älskling” he spoke. He was okay now because of all the painkillers they were shooting through him intravenously. He was okay also because she was here now.

“Tala inte, du kommer att skada dig själv.” Relief didn’t even have a chance to set in. Relief went out the window when the doctor started listing off all his injuries. And where the hell was the driver? Where the hell was the bastard that caused this mess in the first place? That’s when anger set in. Anya’s hands trembled against Tristan’s shoulders and she moved her hands up and down, thumbs rubbing circles into his skin. A concussion, cervical and lumbar sprains and a broken rib. The bruises and cuts would heal but the sprains and the damn broken rib would take much longer to heal. Fuck. The doctor mentioned he was lucky to have made it out alive. Apparently Tristan’s car had flipped over. Twice. The car was of course totaled, but they could take care of that later. All of that could be figured out at a later time. But these injuries were at present, the most important thing in Anya’s mind. How could she help Tristan recover? When could she take him home? “When can he come home?” 

“We’re unsure at the moment. We just got the x-ray’s back and we’d like to make sure there aren’t sighs of bone fragments inside his chest. Right now, he seems to be doing just fine but we would like to keep him just another hour or two. We’d be more than happy to release him tonight.” Okay, tonight, they could deal with that. They had children that would expect to see their father at home tonight regardless of his injuries. Anya was sure they’d each have a fit if he remained in the hospital. At least Tobias was twelve, he could take care of himself by now and the girls. Surely he’d be Isla’s little helper the entire time she looked after them. “The kids are with Isla, by the way, they’re fine.” Before Anya had walked through the hospital doors, she’d received a picture message of the kids playing outside in Isla’s backyard. It was large, large enough for a swing set and a trampoline. Their aunt adored having them over, and perhaps took care of them more than Anya did sometimes. With all the complications Isla had endured trying to have her own children, it was the least she could do. The kids would pop over from time to time when both Anya and Tristan were busy, and she was happy to take them.   

She took a deep breath in, releasing the air carefully before turning to the doctors. They’d had their time with her husband, now it was her turn. “Could you give us a minute alone please?” How polite she’d become during adulthood. Anya had her first child at a very young age towards the end of her 22nd year. How she’d manage to get through twelve years of motherhood was beyond her imagination. Twelve years later, now she was a thirty-four year old mother with three kids. If someone were to tell her back then what she knew now, she would’ve laughed. Anya had never been the type of woman to want kids until Tobias had been born. Watching her son’s eyes open for the first time was one of the happiest days of her life, and that included her wedding day. Anya sat at the edge of her husband’s bed, hands still moving gently against his skin. “Do they know who hit you? Because I can find them and rough um up a bit.” Her words might’ve sound playful to anyone else, but only Tristan would know they were true. And she wasn’t talking about beating him up, but rather instead using her abilities to fry his brain a little. 

[anya-ellington]

@tristan-tillstrom

Everything was fine, she told herself. Repeat it. Everything is fine. It will be fine if you keep saying it. If she stopped thinking it, the phrase would no longer remain true and it had to. It had to be true. Anya’s phone call with Tristan was normal. They’d had this routine down now with the kids where she’d drop them off and he’d pick them up. It was simple, nothing ever really changed unless it needed to. So when Tristan called Anya at work and asked what she’d like from the store, she wasn’t worried. This was normal. What wasn’t normal, was the abrupt end of the phone call. They’d barely been two sentences in when a loud bang was heard from the other end and the call went dead. Panic set in. Then the fear kicked in right after. The desk began to cave in on her as her mind ran rapid trying to find a source of the bang. The only thing it could’ve been was another car, and if it was another car then...Anya’s chest began to tighten and her lungs clawed against her rib cage desperate for air. She was panicking, spiraling out of control like she felt without her medication. But she’d taken it, she had it this morning before dropping the kids off...Tristan. One of her coworkers said her name once, twice, before Anya felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump up. 

One phrase was all she needed to say before grabbing her coat and leaving the office. That could wait, this couldn’t. He’d been on his way to pick up the kids when he’d called her, surely the accident would be somewhere near the school? The kids...Anya’s heart sank and she nearly fell to her knees from the impact. Another coworker stopped her at the stairs. Not now. She couldn’t possibly explain to them what was going on in such a short amount of time. The only thing she could do was say it was an emergency and push them out of her way. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t who she was. Anya wasn’t the type of woman to lose her cool like this, she was composed and in control. Her work required composure, but the mere idea of losing Tristan nearly had her breaking down on the long winding staircase. She had to call someone to get the kids- Isla. She was the closest and could get the kids faster than Anya could. Even though she’d figured out one piece of the puzzle, her chest still ached with possible grief. The hospital hadn’t called, the police hadn’t called, maybe she was overreacting. Maybe everything was just fine. But then...

Her phone rang. It was such a polite well mannered tune, it seemed quite off for such a life changing phone call. “Hello, Ms. Tillstrom? I’m calling to alert you that your husband was just brought into Queen Elizabeth Hospital-” That was all she’d heard before even more panic set in. The hospital. Queen Elizabeth’s was a twenty minute drive from her office. Anya practically ran to her car, trying her best not to speed down the freeway like a mad woman in search of her husband. Isla was already on her way to get the kids, who would be staying at their aunts house until Anya got this sorted. She didn’t really know what the expect when she ran through the hospital doors, and she didn’t even know where to go. “Tristan Tillstrom.” Anya practically shouted at the woman sitting behind the help desk. “Wha-” “What room is Tristan Tillstrom in?” The woman blinked at Anya several times, looking down at her hands, which were rattling on top of the counter. “Only family can see-” “I’m his wife. Anya Tillstrom. Do you need ID or can I see my fucking husband now please?” This was not off to a good start. “Look, I was on the phone with him when someone hit him, or he crashed, I don’t know, but I need to see him. Now. We’ve got...we have three kids at home that need their father, and I need to see him. I need to see him please.” Anya breathed out, feeling tears begin to fill her eyes. The woman sighed. “Room 242. Right down the hall and make a left, they’ll still fixing him u-” 

Room 242. That’s all the information she needed to get her feet moving again. Sure enough the woman’s instructions were very direct. Right down the hall to the left, Anya came across the room. Her hand trembled as she pushed against the white painted door, finding not only her husband in the room but a nurse and a woman who she could only assume was his doctor. She could feel her heart leap out of her chest to see him still breathing. His eyes were open, and he was even talking. Anya breathed out a sigh of relief, pushing past the nurse and the doctor to embrace her husband. “Oh my god, you’re okay. You’re okay, right? Is he okay?” Her question was directed towards the doctor behind them but her eyes remained on Tristan. Tears stained her cheeks, running makeup down her face, making her wish she had gotten that water proof mascara after all. The palms of her hands rested on either side of his face, her thumb running against his chin. He was pretty bruised up, but he was alive. At least he was still fucking breathing. 

[anya-ellington]

cara quotes - 2x13 “princess”

[anya-ellington]

tristan-tillstrom:

Anya’s words worried him beyond belief. She had been through two pregnancies before, so he trusted her word when she said that there was something wrong about what was going on right now. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. Both of you” he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before he started moving to get his wife to the hospital. Of course the man had no way of knowing if things would in fact be fine, but he refused to even think that something bad could happen to his wife or their unborn baby.

The drive to the hospital felt eternal. Tristan held on to Anya as if his own life depended on it, but he still gave her enough space for her to breathe. Those breathing techniques that she had been taught helped her a lot through moments of anxiety. “I got you. I got you, my love” the man whispered in a reassuring manner as she reached out for his hand. He held it tightly, tenderly, letting his wife know that he was here for her and would do whatever was necessary to see her through this.

Tristan was terrified but he did his best to keep all negative thoughts aside. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that he might lose Anya, or that something wrong could happen to his little Hanna. “We’re here” he said to her as the taxi parked in front of the hospital. He paid the man in a rush and got off the car. “Här! Jag behöver hjälp! Min fru ska föda!” he called out to some paramedics that were standing by a parked ambulance. Both men hurried to bring a stretcher and helped to take Anya off the taxi.

With Tobias, the pregnancy had gone rather smoothly aside from everyone desperately trying to get at Hearst’s throat, causing an all out war during her birth. But she’d had both Tristan and Isla by her side, protecting her and Tobias, keeping them safe. Freja had come earlier than anticipated, but still, the pregnancy had been just fine. Now, feeling her stomach splitting in half and her heart pounding out of her chest, she knew something was wrong with this pregnancy with Hanna. Even the soothing words that left her husband’s lips could not calm the rapid beating of her heart. Her fingertips gripped onto his button down again and again, trying to find purchase in what felt like being blinded by a storm. She repeated the same words in her head again and again; please don’t take her away from me. Please don’t take her away from me. 

The breathing techniques had certainly helped her stress level, but not the pain. As another round of contractions hit, so did the pain in her side, causing her to cry out in pain. “Kan den här bilen gå fortare ?” Anya breathed out roughly to the driver, her eyes like daggers in the back of his head. It wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling to know you could lose your child and the drive was taking a century long to reach its final destination. 

“Finally.” Taking her husband’s hand, she attempts to get out of the car, only to nearly fall on her side. She gripped the side of the car, relieved when a group of men come out to her with a stretcher and help her onto it. Taking Tristan’s hand in her own, she continued to breath through the pain rising in her chest, squinting at the bright lighting on the hospital ceiling as the stretcher burst through the double doors.Her eyelids begun to flutter as she fell in and out of conciousness, hand going rather limp in the palm of her husband's hand.  “Vad är problemet?” The doctor came up by Anya’s side, looking from Tristan to her on the stretcher.  “Något är fel med mitt barn . Det uh...gör ont här.”  Anya did her best to speak through whatever pain it was she was feeling, grabbing onto the doctor’s sleeve. the only thing keeping her awake now was her will to try and tell the doctor what she wanted him to do all along. And once she had said those words, it went dark. “Save...Hanna.”

[anya-ellington]

Her eyes widened with her own concern, knowing everything about the pain she felt was just wrong. Something was definitely wrong, and in that moment she didn’t care about what was wrong with her but the baby growing inside of her. Anya would do anything she could to keep Hanna safe, even if she had yet to be born. Another wave of pain shot through her chest, making her double over, grabbing onto her husband’s arm roughly. “Something- ugh, something is wrong.” No. No, no she couldn’t lose this baby, she wouldn’t. She could feel tears begin to spill down her cheeks, breath falling heavy on her lungs as Tristan lifted her up in his arms. 

Anya never prayed, she didn’t believe in a higher power, in God. But now, now she prayed for anything to save the child growing inside of her, for something to save her baby if that was the case. The doctor had warned her about traveling under her conditions, he even told her having a third child could kill her, but she’d done both things anyway. Countless times people told her she couldn’t do something and time after time again she proved them wrong. But had she pushed her luck too far this time? 

Closing her eyes, she held onto her husband as he flagged down a cab and put her in the backseat next to him. She held onto her chest, heart constricting as she began to do her breathing techniques, looking nervously over to Tristan. Her hand reached out for his, taking it in her own before she squeezed it roughly. Anya was scared, terrified of what was happening to her own body. She felt personally responsible for whatever hell was to come. All she had wanted to do was be there for her husband, but in doing so, had she let down her own child? “Tristan,” Anya breathed out nervously, her other hand held tightly on the door’s handle, gripping it so hard her knuckles turned white. 

For the first time since he learnt of his father’s passing, Tristan smiled. Hearing those three words coming out of her lips had that effect on him. It was a brief smile, but a genuine one. Leaning close to his wife like that, the man found a small measure of peace in that moment. His eyes were closed and he breathed in deeply, taking in her scent and the overall soothing sensation he could get from her. He could enjoy it while it lasted because he knew the turmoil would be back eventually.

Feeling her hands move so tenderly over his thigh, across his chest, it made Tristan react by pulling her into a kiss. Anya’s lips pressed to his own and the man simply got lost in her. He held her close, though being mindful of her belly, of that baby girl that was growing inside her.

It caught him off guard entirely when she suddenly pulled back. His eyes widened with worry right away, noticing there was something so obviously wrong going on with his wife. “Anya” he spoke with concern clearly laced into his words “Anya, what’s going on?”. He was knelt by her side in a second, carefully holding her shoulders. Panic began to rise, unsure of what he could do to help her. So he wasted no time, picking her up to carry her out of there. Tristan made it to the hotel’s lobby carrying his wife and took a cab outside of it, indicating the man to be taken to the hospital as fast as possible. It was an emergency.

[anya-ellington]

Her hands found their way to either side of his face, cupping his cheeks softly as her lips pressed a tender kiss to the top of his forehead. Tristan needed her now, probably more than he ever had before and she would be here for him no matter what the hell happened. Through all the odds, every obstacle in their way they’d managed to overcome despite the odds. Now that his father had past, she felt some sort of obligation to fill the void he’d created in Tristan’s life. Their children would grow up not knowing who had raised their parents, the torture they had gone through just to reach a common ground in their lives. 

“Jag älskar dig.” Anya whispered in her husband’s ears, sharing what little moments of happiness they could have in a time where there seemed to be none. Letting her hands gingerly rake through the back of his hair, Anya sighed lightly, closing her eyes as her forehead rested against his shoulder. Silence was a place the couple lived in frequently, feeling comfortable and at home in the silent filled air. They didn’t feel the need to fill the space with words, no words were needed to know how the other felt. “Then I’ll be here.” The blonde smiled lightly, moving her head to capture his lips with her own once they’d moved closer to hers. She lingered there for a moment, hand moving up his thigh to rest softly on his chest. His warmth consumed her at times, making it easy to get lost in him. Anya found herself lost in him most days, even if they weren’t touching and she was watching him pick up his daughter and swing her around him his arms. 

Tristan loved both of his children equally, but there had always been something about Freja that made him soft and brought out a side of him she’d never seen before. His daughter had truly melted his heart, and the protection he carried over her was great. Tobias was always at his mother’s hip, reading bedtime stories to his newest little sister, smiling when he felt her kick. In a way both children had made the newly weds weak in the knees, parenthood seemed easy compared to the hell they had been through. It then dawned on her the growing pain in her stomach. Something wasn’t right. It stemmed from the base of her stomach and reached all the way to her chest, making her heart feel like it was being ripped out of her chest. 

Pulling away from her husband, she let out a rough groan, holding onto her chest as she gasped for air. “Tristan, something’s wrong.” Anya managed to get out, another shot of pain going through her causing her to fall to her knees. “Fuck.” She cursed rather loudly, beads of sweat forming around her forehead while another gasp her air escaped her.

The man was troubled about all that it meant losing his father. He was feeling anger and sadness all at once among some other emotions making their way, but those two were the dominant ones. Tristan knew himself well enough to know they could cause him to lash out but the last thing he wanted was to do that with Anya. He loved his wife beyond words, beyond any describable notion. She’d been through enough and he didn’t want to burden her with his current tormented state. But maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to be broken just this once…

“Jag älskar dig” Tristan said in response to her loving words, offering a small smile to his wife. There were hints of sadness in it, but also of the profound love he had for her. He leaned closer to her, holding her tighter as he found refuge in her comforting embrace. The man breathed in her scent and stayed quiet for a while, just taking in her presence and her closeness. “I don’t know what I need” he began, his tone low and uncertain. He was desperately trying to settle the battle within. It’d be much easier to purely hate his father or to simply miss him. But the contradicting emotions Linus had always created in his son only emphasized now that he’d died, making it impossible for Tristan to reconcile with how he felt towards him. There had never been any sort of closure between father and son, and it was affecting him deeply. “Just stay here with me. Please” Tristan spoke as he pulled away just a bit, pressing a tender kiss on her shoulder, then on her collarbone and moving upwards to her neck “I just need you here with me, Anya. That’s all I need right now”.

[anya-ellington]

She merely nodded with his words, understanding and knowing that perhaps what he really needed right now was time away from his family and his father's body growing cold in its casket. Saying a quick goodbye to Mila, she let him lead her back outside, giving his hand a small squeeze as she met his gaze. There was something a little unsettling about how quiet Tristan had become, and that was never a good thing. The man didn't yap people's ears off but he would always put his two cents into anything his mind came up with, especially if that meant telling someone they were an idiot. Anya gave the cab driver money, thanking him softly before she followed her husband to their hotel room. Still, he hadn't let go of her hand, and she wasn't about to take hers away. Touching had always been their form of communications, he didn't have to say anything for her to understand something was wrong. 

Anya followed him onto the bed, wrapping her arms around the arms holding her in the embrace. "Tristan don't apologize. You don't have to know what you're doing, you're allowed to be broken sometimes. I can't be the only one of us breaking." The blonde chuckled, thinking back to everything they'd been through. Even now years and years after the transplant, she'd had her breaking points. The kids, Tobias, even her second child Freja. Depression began to set it due to the fact that her body was going under such extreme circumstances the doctors told her she might not make it through the pregnancy. But she did. And here she was, pregnant again. 

"I love you, you know that. I'll always love you. You're the father of our two beautiful children and the father of our second little girl to come. You've been there for me more times than I can count, so now I'm here for you. What can I do, Tristan? What do you need?"

The moment his wife took his hand, Tristan’s grip around hers tightened. Yet there was still gentleness in the gesture, there was care and a multitude of hidden meanings only she could understand. “Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here, please” the man muttered in a low tone, low enough so only she could hear what he’d said. Anya was a soothing presence in some way, but he was still feeling like he was falling apart. Being here, at his father’s funeral, certainly didn’t help. He just wanted to go back to their hotel now.

As Anya took his hand he tenderly caressed her cheek as she placed his palm against her skin. It brought a hint of a smile to his lips, one that didn’t last too long, but not less meaningful for it. These moments of connection were theirs and theirs alone, not to happen in a room full of people who hated him or thought wrongly of who he was, or worse of all, who thought badly of the woman he’d married. Tristan needed this intimacy, this support, but he needed it away from these people. Even away from his sister. “Jag ringer dig senare, okej?” was the only thing he said to Mila before his grabbed his wife’s hand and the two of them headed out of there.

The cab ride to their hotel was short and Tristan remained silent for the whole duration of it. His hand stayed on Anya’s, though. He never let go. It was his way of showing that despite his silence, despite his taciturn behavior all day, he was confused and hurting and needed her right now more than ever. Once in their room, he plopped on the bed, sitting there. Their hands were still linked and he pulled Anya closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning close. “I’m sorry” he whispered, his tone husky and low “I’m so sorry… I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, Anya. I just don’t know. And there’s just so much shit going on inside my head…”.

[anya-ellington]

[anya-ellington]

[anya-ellington]

Being alone never felt right. Sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right.

Charles Bukowski (via theglasschild)

[anya-ellington]

Anya felt his presence before her ears picked up on the small voices giving their condolences to the second eldest child of Linus Tillstrom. She turned to him, eyes meeting his with slight concern. Her features soften at his gaze, a small smile slipped to her lips as she stood, taking his hands in her own. Tristan was a significant amount taller than she was, her chin came to rest on his shoulder, lips parting as she asked him a simple question. Or at least it should have been simple, but wasn’t. “Do you want to go?” 

It hit her that perhaps Mila would not understand why the couple decided to suddenly leave their father’s funeral, and it would seem strange. It was something she didn’t feel honesty would be the best policy in, or that making up some lame excuse about her pregnancy would tolerate. Pressing her lips together, she leaned up to kiss his cheek, bringing their interlaced fingers to her lips next. “I’ll go wherever you go.” Her smile only widened as she brought the palm of his hand to her cheek, leaning into his touch. She didn’t care who watched, or who was suspicious of the way they acted because this was theirs. The relationship had always been their own, something the two of them shared that no one else could. 

Keeping their relationship a secret had nearly killed Anya, but now that everyone knew, it had set her free. She was thankful for this man, the love of her life, everyday, and she had two beautiful children to prove that, and a third one on the way. Anya adored him, and she quite simply would go anywhere he went. Not only because she was his wife, but because she wanted to. 

Despite her words, Tristan didn’t take it back. He meant those words, at least partially, and that was enough for him to hold on to the sentiment. He was glad his father was dead. Linus Tillstrom -that monster of a man- deserved to be hated on his funeral, but then again, what kind of monster was Tristan for hating his own father that much? For ending his brother’s life? There were a lot of sins under his own belt as well, and by thirty-three he had committed just as many atrocities as his father had. No matter how hard he’d tried to be different from him, he’d ended up becoming someone just as despicable.

As Tristan walked through the garden, his mind was whirring. He felt like he was about to explode due to the avalanche of conflicted thoughts. He thought about his childhood. His mother. Losing her. Being raised by his dad. How proud his father was of him when he was a kid. His siblings. The bond of brotherhood and camaraderie his father instilled into them. St. Mary’s and the end of the illusion of who he was father was. Taking off that mask Linus wore and learning the monster he was. His own detachment. Hearst and his job at St. Mary’s.. Anya. Falling in love with her. His punishment and nearly killing her. Project Play. The pills, the hospital and her transplant. The pregnancy. Tobias. The wedding. Freja. Now… It all felt like a thunderstrom inside of him, and once the blur of memories and emotions came to a sudden stop, he realized he was standing in the open field of grass, with stinging eyes and a single tear falling down.

He was drifting and he didn’t know how to stop. It terrified him beyond belief how different and how similar he was to his father and how his life’s choices had led him to be just that: an opposite of Linus Tillstrom, and yet so dangerously alike. He’d hated him and loved him, he’d contradicted him and craved his approval, and on this day it felt like a mistake to have done so. Everything felt like a mistake. He felt like the mistake itself. Amongst his doubts and pain and sorrow and frustration, Tristan knew the one thing that wasn’t wrong, the one thing that would never be a mistake: It was a four letter word that he’d tattoed on the back of his neck. So he went back to her.

Tristan walked back into the house, without stopping to talk to anyone who approached to say their condolences. He went straight to look for his wife and it was only after a couple of minutes that he found her by his sister’s side. The man didn’t say a word, he just looked at her with conflicted eyes and a small smile. He needed to get the hell out of this place and he needed her to himself. His father’s influence had ingrained so many rotten habits into him and some others he’d acquired by himself on the road of going against people like Linus, but it was Anya who somehow helped in mending him, in fleshing out a relatively better part of him. In just one look he said that to her. He needed her to help him stay afloat.

[anya-ellington]

Her eyes watched him for a moment, curious at what he’d say next to deny his feelings of his father’s death. Anya had only ever met Linus once or twice in her life. One time at St. Mary’s when he’d come to speak with Hearst about his youngest son’s death, and another the day before their wedding, asking his son not to marry the defect of the Ellington family. That had been an extremely fun conversation to witness, most of it involved yelling, and Anya crying. To say the least, Anya didn’t like the man very much either, especially for making her cry the day before her fucking wedding in front of his grandchild Tobias, she might add. Pressing her lips into a thin line she sighs lightly, shaking her head. “Don’t say shit like that at a funeral...” Anya muttered, looking away for a moment. This was something she’d been dreading the moment they got the call that Linus had passed. She had never been mad with him about his attitude towards her, which was less than kind, but she knew the place he was coming from. Not only that, but she reserved most of her anger for bigger fights, more important ones. She nodded with his words, knowing these minutes to himself were truly ones he’d need to get through this funeral in tact. Smiling gently, leaning into his kiss before her fingertips slide away from his jacket, their moment cut short with his movements. 

Making her way back into the funeral hall, she went back into the room, watched as people went up to the open casket and kissed the dead man’s forehead. Finding a seat next to Mila, she sat down beside the young woman, smiling lightly. “Hey. I’m sorry about your father, Mila. I know he cared for all of you deeply.” She says politely, placing a hand softly on the girl’s shoulder, only for a moment. The girl nods, letting out a small laugh. “Tristan and my father fought constantly. I’m surprised he actually came. Thank you, for coming. I know he wasn’t...the nicest about you being married to my brother.” Anya looked down at the small sensation of a hand in her own, looking down to see the girl had placed a hand on her own. “It doesn’t matter. He’s family, and even if Tristan wasn’t thrilled about coming, I know he cares. He loved him.” She knows this because that’s how she felt about her own mother. 

The woman had passed not too long after her father had, actually, about a year and a half after to be exact. Liver failure had been the cause of death, the amount of alcohol the woman had consumed finally doing her in. Anya had cried at the funeral, broken down and fallen to the ground on top of Mount Marcy while scattering her ashes. It surprised her how emotional she’d actually been, considering the way Brooke had treated her most of her life. But after the support she’d given her through the pregnancy, giving her money for a liver transplant and trying to reconcile after all this time, the woman had managed to keep a place in her heart. So she sat there, with Mila’s hand in her own, looking at the man who’d made her cry the day before her own wedding, waiting for her husband to come back in and mourn his death. 

Anya knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, in their time together the girl had learnt to read him well. All too well for his liking at times. Maybe that was why it was easy to fool himself into thinking that he actually didn’t give a shit about his father’s death while she could see that it did affect him in some way. “I’m not lying. I’m glad he’s dead” he stated bitterly. It wasn’t a lie, because a part of him was relieved that a man like his father was gone, no longer able to harm more people the way he did. Another part of him had absolutely no idea how to cope with his passing. Because Linus Tillstrom might have been a monster, but that monster had raised him in the end, and Tristan had loved that monster for most of his childhood and teenage years even though he’d always feared the man. Tristan looked down for a moment at the mention of her dad’s funeral. That day had mostly been a shit show, so it certainly wasn’t a great comparison. The mention of the bathroom managed to cause a small scoff from his part and bring a hint of a smirk to his lips for a moment. It faded just as quickly as it appeared. Anya’s effort to cheer him up a little was appreciated, but he wasn’t in the right place at present… he was reeling, finding it hard to find something to hold on to. He squeezed his wife’s hand for a moment and then he let go “Sit down if you like, I need to take a walk. I’ll be back in a few minutes” he said as he kissed her forehead and turned around, heading out into the garden. He didn’t even give Anya the chance to say anything before he left. He needed a few minutes on his own, let out some steam before he fucked up and let it all out with her.

[anya-ellington]

“Oh. Maybe I’m anxious.” With another baby on the way, unexpected, but equally loved, she wasn’t exactly in the right kind of shape to travel all the way to Sweden, but she told her doctor to shove it, and her husband to shove it, so here she was. Anya wasn’t about to leave Tristan to the dogs. Besides, she figured this was a little like her own father’s funeral all those years ago. Resting her hands on her sides, she sighs lightly, shaking her head. “Yes, it does. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me, Tillstrom.” The woman didn’t believe she had it in her to actually be mad at him now, what with his father in a casket inside. She would be patient and understanding with him, knowing he was going through this in his own way. “Neither did my family on my dad’s funeral but I- you know what, that’s a bad example, forget I mentioned it.” Shaking her hand as if it rid the memory, Anya leaned backward, lifting her stomach in the air as she stretched, letting out a small grunt. She knew Mila had come to terms with what Tristan had done, but his brother, was not as understanding. Through it all, Anya had been there to be his crutch, just as he had been for her. It was a long and grueling process, and a lot of sleepless nights. “Hey, on the bright side, there’s a new bathroom we can fuck in if this doesn’t pan out.” She chuckles, wincing a little as she moved towards him, taking his hand. “Alright baby, as much as I loved standing, can we sit?” 

Without a word, he let Anya lead the two of them outside. He was silently grateful for it, there was something about being in that room that caused an oppressive feeling inside him, a tightening force in his throat and chest. “I’m not anxious. I’m just- I don’t know. I fucking hated that guy and he was my father, so I’m not entirely sure what the hell I’m doing here” he explained, sounding a little more harsh than he’d intended. His eyes softened and he glanced down, his hold on her hand tightening a little. “Yeah, he was my father. And that doesn’t mean shit to me right now” he shrugged as he spoke, his words coming out in a low tone, his eyes still set downwards. The kiss had a soothing effect on him and his eyes set on Anya’s as their lips parted. “They don’t even want me here” he replied somberly. His siblings wouldn’t forgive him for Henrik’s murder, and with good reason. Mila’s power had allowed her to glimpse into the past and see the circumstances of their brother’s murder, all the strings the youngest Tillstrom moved that provoked Tristan to end Henrik’s life. Mila didn’t forgive him, but at least she understood him. Edvard on the other hand, he’d probably never speak to Tristan again. “Whatever, it’d probably be best if we left soon. This whole thing has been fucking draining, I think I need to pass out”. Their hotel bed was nothing compared to the one at home, but alas coming to Sweden for this damn event had been necessary.

[anya-ellington]

Something was off about him, that much was clear. Though Anya had expected this from him, knowing how much torment and pain his father had succumb him to. Sliding her hand into his, she tugged on it gently, waiting until he allowed them to move forward. Leading him outside, she turned to him, taking a deep breath in, then out. “My prenatal doctor told me to do some breathing if I grew anxious. I’m feeling that from you now, anxiousness, and Tristan. If you’d like to go, we can go. It’s completely up to you. But he’s your father.” Moving forward, she took his hands in her own, smiling gently as she leaned forward to press her lips to his. “Try, okay? For Mila and Edvard. Even if Edvard doesn’t quite deserve it.” She smirks, giving his hands a light swing. 

As he turned to his wife a shadow of a smile crossed his lips and then his expression went back to being rather stoic. “Yeah, I’m fine” he answered casually, his tone a little too serious. “But y’know, it was a fucking waste of time coming here” he said with complete indifference in regard to his father’s funeral, slouching a little as he leaned back on the wall  “I shouldn’t have come here”.

[anya-ellington]

“Tyvärr, ursäkta mig, ledsen.” ‘Sorry, excuse me, sorry.’ Anya swedish had improved much over the years, being taught by her husband, who actually happened to be quite a good teacher. She’d just stepped out for a minute to call her sister, Isla, to check on the kids. Her hands snaked around one of his arms, leaning into him with a soft sigh. “You okay?” She looked up at the love of her life, a small smile present on her lips as her thumb rubbed circles into his arm. Getting dressed up for the day had been a little difficult, seeing as the two of them had two children running around the house, and another one on the way. A girl, baby Hanna, they’d decided on. Pressing her free hand onto her stomach, she looked around at the crowd, trying to find Tristan’s siblings. 

@anya-ellington

His father was dead. Linus Fucking Tillstrom perished with a heart attack at the age of sixty-seven. Honestly, Tristan always always thought the bastard would stick around for a while longer. His siblings hated him, and yet the black sheep of the Tillstrom clan had been asked to attend the funeral. At this point he wasn’t sure what was more surprising: that he’d been invited or that he’d decided to attend. He had to admit he felt somewhat stunned, still finding it hard to believe his father, the protector and the tormentor he’d known him to be, was gone for good. Silently, the man just leaned against a wall and stared out the window absentmindedly, as the room was filled with hushed Swedish chatter and people crying for the loss of Linus Tillstrom.