#that woman went through pregnancy after pregnancy until she physically couldn’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

free-for-all-fics · 10 months ago

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Part 2 of 3 of the Crossover Prompt! This part is probably the longest, as this is where the meat of the story/prompt happens. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! ⚕️🤍

Although Louis, very reluctantly, returned to France as an acclaimed war hero in March 1918, his personal life soon took a turn for the worse. By the time he arrived at Madeleine’s house which he could no longer call home, she had already received a call from John’s family, telling her that they received a telegram from the War Department notifying them John had been killed in action. Enclosed with the telegram was John’s will. Despite their marriage collapsing, he refused to abandon her in her very fragile emotional, mental, and physical state.

Ever since she discovered she was pregnant, she lived the life of a recluse. She suddenly stopped going out in public one day and never left the house or accepted any visitors since. A boy delivered her groceries. Every week she left him money and a list by the back door, and gave him instructions to leave them by that same back door. She always waited until he went away before unlocking the door. She kept away from the front door and windows. She prayed every night that nobody would ever see her stomach before either John married her or Louis came home. When John’s family called to tell her the news of his death, she barely said anything before hanging up. When they came to the house and brought over everything John left to Louis and Madeleine, she didn’t answer the door. They waited a few moments, but she didn’t come. So they assumed she wasn’t at home and left the box of items on the doorstep. The door opened just a crack. Arms came reaching out from the darkness. They quickly snatched the box and brought it inside, then firmly shut and locked the door within seconds. John’s family didn’t notice because they were long gone by that point.

While she accepted Louis’ help and support, he could tell it was only because she had nobody else to turn to. John’s family could never know he fathered a child out of wedlock with a married woman. Madeleine’s family could never know she soiled their good name by laying with a man who wasn’t her husband and birthed his child. The scandal would break up their families forever, and that was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t have an alternative. She was far enough along that their only viable option by that point was to bide their time so that they could convincingly pass off the baby as Louis’. They’d likely have to fabricate a story about the baby being born premature. While she understood the risks that came with it, including the risk of either her and/or the baby’s death, she decided she wanted to give birth in the privacy of her home. It would be easier to lie about the baby’s birthdate and parentage if the only witnesses were Louis, a midwife, and maybe a wet nurse. She knew that. And he knew she knew that. But still Louis could see it in her eyes that she didn’t want him there, not really. Every time she looked at him, she probably thought about how it should’ve been John, the actual father of her baby and the man she truly loved, beside her throughout her pregnancy. Not him. Not Louis.

She often cried, as if the ferocity of it alone might’ve been enough to bring John back. As if by the sheer force of her grief the news would’ve been undone. He was her love, her husband-to-be, and he couldn’t be gone. Louis tried to hold her back, to calm her before she hurt someone or herself, but, in her hysteria, she was too strong, too wild. After whirling about, unable to look through her puffy eyes at the photographs on the wall, she tumbled out of the house onto the rain-kissed lawn in the middle of the night. As if she were desperate for a breath of fresh air, for a reprieve from the suffocating sorrow she felt trapped in. He watched her go, dissolved in the kind of despair that can take one's mind prisoner and never give it back. Her wailing carried in the damp air, freezing him in place. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope.

She sank to her knees in the middle of the backyard, not caring for the damp mud or wet grass that dirtied her clothing, staining it brown and green. The skin of her hands became stained with the same colors as she tore the grass from the earth and clawed through the dirt, as if trying to dig a hole for herself. Her tears mingled with the rain and her gasping wails echoed around the neighborhood. The pain that flowed from her was as palpable as the frigid fall wind and soon the only person at her side was Louis. He placed his hands on her shoulders. That’s all he could do. She struggled to keep her tears silent as she took shaky breaths and looked up to the watery skies. There were no stars that she could see that night. But she had to believe they were still there, somewhere just beyond her human perception, still twinkling in the soft darkness of nothing, in all of its shadowed velvet embrace. She had to believe heaven was just beyond that darkness. She had to believe John was safe up there, comfortable and warm. To look down at the earth would be to imagine him lying cold in a box, bereft of her cuddles and goodnight kisses. So she kept her head up.

Louis had to take her back inside before she caught her death of cold. She fought him, accused him of having done something to get John killed on purpose, motivated by possessiveness or jealousy. She called him many vile things he didn’t care to repeat, including a murderer.

“Never mind the epithets. You don’t have to swear at me to get rid of me.”

“I never want to see you again. Never, never as long as I live! Get out of here! Get out, get out, get out!”

“I’ll get out.”

He gave her the benefit of the doubt and pretended that she didn’t understand the full weight of what she was saying and didn’t actually mean it. He brushed it off as her just needing an outlet, something or someone she could vent to and take all her volatile emotions out on whenever she was feeling overwhelmed. If it had to be him, so be it. It wasn’t the first time she had an outburst like that. Ever since she learned of John’s death, it was a recurring behavior she exhibited. He summoned doctors, did everything they instructed him to do to help her whenever she had an episode. But no matter how bad things became, he’d never send her away. It was out of the question. No matter how many doctors or specialists recommended or suggested it, he’d never even entertain the thought. He’d never put her in an asylum. Maybe a sanitarium would’ve done her some good, but she never would’ve gone willingly, and he’d never deprive her of her autonomy by sending her someplace unfamiliar without her consent.

She belonged at home, so home was where she stayed. She wasn’t crazy. The war made her lonely, depressed, and traumatized, and her pregnancy only exacerbated her psyche. Even if he swore up and down John’s death was an accident, that it was the tragic outcome of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that he did everything he could to try to save him, it wouldn’t have changed anything. He knew what she felt and what she thought every single day as her pregnancy progressed, even without her saying a word to him. And it was that it should’ve been John holding her hand as she pushed and brought her child into the world. Not him. Not Louis.

She gave birth to a son, also named John. She loved her son. She really did. She loved him more than life itself. But, less than a month after she gave birth, she refused to hold or nurse the baby. She told Louis to take John Jr. away from her before she did something she’d regret. They could get a wet nurse to feed him until he was weened. She couldn’t do it anymore. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. She was afraid of herself. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly had these horrible thoughts about hurting or killing the baby. They wouldn’t go away, even when she shut her eyes to go to sleep. She’d never ever do anything to hurt John Jr. if she was in her right mind. But she wasn’t in her right mind and she didn’t trust herself to be near her son. She went up and down, down and up. She wanted her mind to be quiet, to give her some semblance of peace and normalcy, but it wouldn’t.

She was so unpredictable at times that Louis kept a close eye on her just to be on the safe side. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to believe that she would never do anything to harm either the baby or herself, but he couldn’t be too careful. Although it was extremely difficult and painful, he did as she asked. He kept the boy away from his mother. Doctors who examined her said she was suffering from “puerperal insanity,” a condition with an unknown cause. They could only theorize that her moods fluctuated throughout her pregnancy constantly and now that the baby was no longer in her womb, her hormones were causing her emotions to go haywire to overcompensate for the emptiness within her body. She’d likely experience random spikes and drops in mood until her hormone levels normalized, and the doctors had no accurate way of knowing when exactly that would be. It could be weeks or, more likely, months. They prescribed her some medications. They helped, but they weren’t a miracle cure.

Louis was all too familiar with walking along the road to recovery. It was a long road ahead. And the road to mental recovery was much, much, much longer than physical recovery. She walked along that road. When he was on it, he never walked alone. He walked with you. He walked with Nurse Haydon. So he walked with Madeleine, went at her pace. Whenever she came to a fork in the road and was confused and didn’t know which way to take, he just put up a signpost that said, “Not that way. This way.”

Louis’ name was listed on the baby’s birth certificate as the father due to the presumption of legitimacy. Nobody but he and Madeleine knew that the boy wasn’t actually his. With John Sr. deceased, all they could do for him now was share custody of his son and raise him to the best of their ability. To make the situation more bearable, they told themselves it was what John would’ve wanted. They were brothers in arms, yes, but John had not only been part of Captain Renault’s regiment and under his command. He was his friend. And to Madeleine, John was so much more than her lover. He was her best friend, her soulmate, if such a thing existed. They each felt they owed it to him to put aside their hard feelings and do what was best for his child.

No matter what cruel or accusatory things people said behind their backs, Louis recognized and raised the boy as if he were his own. To him, he was his son in every sense of the word except blood. While he became disillusioned upon discovering Madeleine’s affair and the love he once had for her was long gone, he loved her son more than most things. Even if the boy didn’t resemble Louis at all, they’d make up convincing lies about how he took after a grandparent and would do anything else in their power to try to put a stop to the rumors. It worked…for a few months.

Near the end of the war in 1918, nurses and the rest of the world were suddenly faced with a large-scale flu epidemic. It was uncertain where the virus first emerged, but it quickly spread through western Europe and around the world— First in ports, then from city to city along main transportation routes. This epidemic was deadlier than the war itself and was responsible for a majority of the deaths involving nurses. During WWI, over two-hundred army nurses and thirty-six navy nurses died while in service. By the end of the war, nearly three-hundred Red Cross nurses had also lost their lives.

15 April 1919

More people are falling ill from this sickness and even more have died. I heard that many of the people who left France have since formed a new community space elsewhere to quarantine, hopeful that they’re a safe distance away and won’t get touched by the virus. I have my doubts. I hate to be so pessimistic, but I believe it has spread to the point where nowhere is truly safe. To believe otherwise would be to hang onto false hope. I can understand why they would choose to do so. I hung onto false hope once, and it kept me going for a time. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have survived as long as I did. I probably wouldn’t have survived at all. But I didn’t realize until it was too late that it only blinded me to the truth, prevented me from seeing what was right in front of me all along. It caused me much more grief in the end. Once the beautiful dream was shattered, dying greatly appealed to me. It would’ve been a much more bearable sensation than what I felt in that moment. But you saved me, sweetheart, by showing me how I could save myself. I imagine that, despite the epidemic, you’ve chosen to stay behind to care for the sick and the wounded out of a sense of duty and responsibility to save others like you saved me. You never struck me as one to show fear in the line of duty, even when faced with the risks of infection or death itself. I remember how you told me that if you were to die so that others may live, it was a sacrifice you were ready and willing to make.

I commend your courage, my darling, but please, do everything you can to keep yourself safe. I’ve seen the mortality reports. So many nurses have already lost their lives. Too many. I watch the news closely, hoping your name will never come up amongst the deceased. I don’t know what I would do if you were one of them. While I wish I could be by your side now, I have people here who need me. All I can do for you is send you letters and hope that they reach you. I hope that, wherever you are, you’re not under a quarantine that would prevent my words from reaching you. I eagerly await your reply. Please, write to me as soon as you can so I know you’re alive and well. I fear I’ll go mad with anxiety if I don’t hear from you soon.

Louis xxx

Tragedy struck when Madeleine had taken ill during the Great Influenza epidemic in 1919. John Jr., whom Louis lovingly called Johnny, was still only a baby by that point and at high risk of contracting the disease from his mother. Both she and Louis were afraid that she’d infect the very young boy. Inoculation was particularly successful in preventing flu and greatly reduced the number of casualties so, in an attempt to protect him from the epidemic, Louis kept himself and Johnny away from Madeleine upon her request. They agreed that keeping the boy away was for his own good. Nobody saw her except doctors and nurses.

Despite the best efforts of medical personnel, her malady only worsened, presumably exacerbated by her grief and desire to be reunited with John. Ever since his death, she kept a piece of him in a box under her bed along with his unfinished letter to her. The fires of the crematorium had taken John beyond her mortal touch yet the fabric remained, a faded brown jacket of no importance to anyone but her. It wasn’t the jacket from his military uniform. That one had been cut by the doctors when they attempted to save him. This jacket was one he used to wear often in the winter. In his will, he left it to Louis. It would’ve fit him; he and John were roughly the same size, the same build. But Madeleine refused to part with it ever since she found it in that cardboard box his family dropped off. It smelled like him. And even after his familiar scent dissipated, she still wrapped herself in it, its fleece lining offering her warmth and comfort that John couldn’t anymore. It protected her from her bad thoughts. It kept her nightmares at bay. Ever since she received that jacket, she never once thought about John’s blood spreading through his military jacket, staining it an even darker shade of brown not dissimilar to the coffee she used to make him in the mornings.

When she heard the news of John’s death, death was all she thought about. She experienced suicidal ideation as she obsessively thought about her own death. Humans are so…so alone in the end. To die…it must be horrible. To be separated from the one you love, to walk all the way to the unknown, alone. John, Louis, all those men who fought in the war had more courage in their smallest finger than she did in her entire body…even the worst ones. She couldn't do it, she couldn't die. Not while a vestige of John was growing inside her. That little life still needed her. As she laid dying in her sickbed, she no longer thought of death. It was bitterly ironic, wasn’t it? It was difficult for the mortuary workers to remove the jacket from her grasp as rigor mortis set in, but they managed. Louis requested that she was buried with that article of clothing. Honoring his request, the funeral director had it neatly folded and placed in her casket at her feet. Just before the casket was closed, he asked for a few moments alone with her. He said his goodbyes and placed John’s final letter to her in the folds of his brown jacket so nobody would see it. Had he been able to stay by her bedside to hear it, Louis believed it would’ve been her dying wish to be buried with those mementos of John. Her heart always belonged to him. Louis hoped they were together, that they were free to love each other in death as they did in life, unburdened by the limitations of existence.

27 April 1919

I buried Madeleine today. I didn’t bring Johnny to the funeral. He’s so little and I didn’t want him exposed to all that mess. He was looked after by a neighbor while services for his mother were held. Of dry faces, there were none. The funeral was sweet sorrow. In the sorrow of death was the proof of love, of the bonds that existed beyond our reality, beyond the spacetime, matter and energy that made our world real. While everyone in attendance bore expressions of raw pain and silent anguish, myself included, the funeral was, above all, a celebration of her life and accomplishments. Memories about her were shared, stories about her were told, a few kind words about her were said, until the casket was finally lowered into the ground. The mourners departed soon after that. They offered me handshakes, half-hugs and pats on the shoulder, but none of them wanted to stay too long after they gave their condolences. Even the clergyman had gone. I couldn’t blame them. Death is a tragedy in the young and a right of passage for the old and so bring different kinds of mourning. Though it’s so intimately a part of life, death often makes people uncomfortable. While death is interwoven into every aspect of the human experience, it’s within our human nature to distance ourselves from it. I don’t know why, but I lingered. It was just me, the gravediggers, and her.

It rained the day before. Under my boots the squelch of the mud beneath the wet grass was as noisy as the static in my head. The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by my long intakes of the damp spring air. Tears began to spill from my eyes onto the newly growing grass. She laid in the earth right in front of me and, as I watched shovels of dirt being placed over her, all I could think was, “I won’t return to a home where she both is and isn’t. I can’t. Though her body won’t be there, her presence will be inescapable. Her memory will cast its shadow over the entire house, permeating every wall of every room and the land immediately surrounding it. It’s not my house anymore. It’s hers. It always has been. It always will be.” I’m so sorry if my words frighten you, my darling. To be honest, they frighten me too. But I’ll be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Please, write to me and tell me of something happy. Something that made you smile or laugh. I could use some good news right about now. I love you for forever and always.

Louis xxxx

3 May 1919

I’ve not yet had the courage to return to the house I once called home just yet, so Johnny and I have been living in a nice little apartment for now. It’s not much, but it’ll be enough for just the two of us until I can find something better. I know you’ll admonish me for it but, in the days following Madeleine’s funeral, I was so focused on looking after him that I neglected to take care of myself. I was able to uphold a routine of feeding, bathing, and dressing him, but I failed to remember to shower or make food for myself. I was running on autopilot. But this morning it suddenly hit me all at once, like the gravity of my situation finally set in. Before I sat down to pen you this letter, I took time for myself to get cleaned up, eat something, and just sit in silence and process everything that happened in the last few days. My ex-wife is dead. My friend is dead. John and Madeleine’s families can never know about Johnny’s true parentage lest they become embroiled in scandal from which they’d never recover. There’s no other family to care for Johnny but me. For better or worse, I’m all he has left in the world - aside from my sister and her family, of course. Poor little orphan. Those who are destined to live during times of war and social upheaval are victims of a cruel fate— unable to find comfort in the past or peace in the present. They are the spiritual orphans of the world. He’s still napping, but he’ll be waking up and demanding his breakfast soon. I envy him. He doesn’t know a thing about any of it.

Louis xx

Initially, despite the loss of Madeleine, Louis enjoyed a happy life following his discharge, hanging out with his military colleagues and enjoying social activities. Eventually, however, his life began a downward spiral. As the years passed and peoples minds cleared, some of Louis’ fellow comrades, in particular friends to the deceased, began to suspect that Stevenson’s death was no accident. Whispers began to spread amongst the war veterans, which turned to rumors, then speculation and eventually quiet suspicion. Especially as Johnny grew older and started to resemble John more and more. Such brave men in the battlefield became such cowards outside of it. None of them had the courage to ever confront Louis directly, nor did they have the courage to understand the difference between honorable self-sacrifice and murder. They saw only what they wanted to see. Ultimately, even though they had no proof of guilt, Louis’ reputation was ruined. Realizing what his fellow soldiers were thinking, he stopped attending the military reunions and, after noticing the strange looks that his neighbors were giving him, became less and less sociable. Madeleine and John were dead, yet they continued to influence everything and everyone around them.

Nurse Haydon was only partially correct when she said Louis’ hearing loss was temporary and would return. His hearing did return, but not to the normal she had described. When Louis got a second opinion from an otolaryngologist, it only confirmed for him what he already suspected. He suffered permanent damage in one of his ears from the artillery shell blast and, as a result, became partially deaf in one ear. He had to adapt and grow accustomed to his new normal. Despite this, he heard every word of what was said about him. There was a silver lining in that, based on how well he was able to listen and respond to people while engaged in conversation, nobody would ever know he had hearing loss. But even if people believed he couldn’t hear them, Johnny had ears too. Louis didn’t want any malicious gossip coming back around and reaching his son. He feared that, at his age, the impressionable boy would be taken advantage of and fed lies, bullied, harassed, or otherwise the target of revenge by proxy and punished for the sins of his adoptive father.

7 July 1919

Ever since Madeleine first fell ill, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the worst case scenario and what to do next in the event that she didn’t pull through. Retaining custody and raising her son wasn’t a possibility I took lightly. I considered my options and weighed the pros and cons of him having me, of all people, as a father. I thought about how growing up without a mother might impact him. I thought about a lot of what ifs. I did the same when I considered adoption or temporary guardianship. Now that the funeral is over, I’ve tried to think day in and day out of what would be best for her son, regardless of my own feelings. But my feelings kept getting in the way. I’ve finally come to a decision. I don’t have the heart to give him up or be separated from him forever, but I can’t leave him alone in an apartment or dump him onto the neighbors unannounced while I’m getting my affairs in order. The best thing I can do for him is place him into temporary guardianship with my sister. She and her husband have children of their own and she’s someone I can trust. They’ve agreed to look after Johnny, at least until I can find a house and a job and am ready to resume parenting.

While my life has taken some unexpected twists and turns, I believe that, in time, I’ll be ready to step up and act as a proper father to little Johnny. I’ll send you snaps of Johnny and I together soon. I won’t have him for a while, so I’d better take as many of him while I still can. He’s a handsome little devil. In all the time we’ve known each other, darling, I never once thought I’d have to compete for your love and affections. But when you see his handsome face with his chubby little cheeks, bright eyes, and even brighter smile, I fear he’ll steal your heart right out from under me. Sweet dreams, my darling. And all my love.

Louis xxxx

17 July 1919

Oh, my God. Oh, my... Darling, I can’t keep you safe from the epidemic. In this matter I’m powerless. To lose my friend, my wife, and my son… Must I lose you, too? I don’t know if I can survive it again. My dear, in such a short time I’ve already buried two people that I loved. I can’t go back there. Not again. Your death would destroy me. I fear I wouldn’t be able to survive it. You can’t— You can’t leave me. If I lose you, I'll have nothing. I'll have nothing. Please, don’t go where I can’t follow. If that were to ever happen, I fear I would do something terribly drastic and irreversible in my desperation to be with you. Dear God, What am I saying? I must be going half-mad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean any of that. Ever since I sent Johnny away, the loneliness has been getting to me. I get sent pictures of him and letters from my sister occasionally, but— It’s just—

It’s so much harder than I thought it’d be. None of the attendees at the funeral saw me when I was laid up in hospital and first learned of her infidelity. They didn’t see how broken I was in mind, body, and spirit. But you did. Your mere presence served as a balm to many of the injured and dying, especially me. You put me back together again, piece by misshapen piece. When I thought I’d never recover from her betrayal, you... You took me through the worst of my grief, and I came out a better man because of it. You helped me pull myself out of a dark place then, and I believe you’ll do so again.

Your missives of encouragement will give me the motivation I need to keep going. Your sweet words will guide me home, wherever that may be. I promise I’ll take better care of myself as long as you promise me you’ll do the same. Please, look after yourself, my dear. Take a break and don’t feel an ounce of shame or guilt about it. I’d so hate for you to overwork yourself and make yourself sick. I love you and am thinking of you always.

Louis xxxxx

8 August 1919

I’ve been busying myself by cleaning out the old house and getting it ready to put on the market. How does that saying go? Don’t put off till tomorrow what can be done today. Well, I kept putting it off. I kept telling myself tomorrow, tomorrow for sure, but tomorrows kept coming and passing me by and still I didn’t lift a finger inside that house. I didn’t even turn the key in the lock! Now I have more work to do than I would’ve if I just mustered up the courage to go inside and sorted through everything within the month after she died. There’s so much to donate, so much to clean… It’s my own fault. I kept chickening out at the last minute. But It’s served me well as a daytime distraction…until night comes and it’s time for me to lay down and sleep. I’m once again alone with my thoughts and have to fight to keep them and my nightmares at bay. Sleeping in our once shared bedroom feels inappropriate, so I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom or on the couch. But I still toss and turn as I try to think of something else. Anything else. Ever since Madeleine’s passing, I’ve sometimes felt as if she were looking through the wall at me. I know it's absurd, but I feel as if I’ll never be free from her so long as I’m here. When I write, she never takes her eyes from my hands, and when I call on the telephone, she never takes her eyes from my lips.

Tonight it was even worse, as if she were threatening. She’ll haunt my thoughts like a restless spirit if I don’t leave. I’ll sleep tonight with your picture by my pillow, as I’ve done every night. Your face always helps ward off the ghosts. All I can do for her now is leave her to Rest In Peace. Once I find a house, I’ll pack up all of my and Johnny’s things and finally take him back. Never again will I step back into this haunted house. These next few weeks will be unpredictable. I might not be able to write you again for some time. But please, don’t let my silence discourage you from writing to me. Although I may not have time to answer your letters in the foreseeable future, I’ll read every single one of them. I’ll keep you posted and give you an update as soon as I’m able. I promise. I love you.

Your Louis xxxx

21 November 1919

My dearest, please forgive me for my letters being sparse as of late. Though I had given you notice beforehand and you were aware that this would happen, I can’t even begin to imagine how much my silence must’ve worried you the longer it went on. I’m sorry for whatever stress or anxiety I’ve put you through. But I can explain. So much happened in these last three months that I found little time to write. My days became sacrosanct and, by nightfall, I was too exhausted to even pick up my pen. My eyes were so bleary with exhaustion that I couldn’t see the blank page clearly in front of me, and my eyes wouldn’t refocus no matter how much I blinked. After many weeks of living in a hectic world, everything has finally calmed down now and I can tell you all the marvelous news, darling! I found a house and I’m settled in. While not everything is unpacked yet, I’ve just about finished. I’ve spent these last weeks doing nothing but finalizing details and counting down to the day when I could finally sit down to write to you.

Even better, I have Johnny back with me. I missed him so much. Words can’t convey just how much. Four months felt like forever. Now that I have him back, I don’t plan on letting him out of my sight. Though it’ll take him time to adjust to the change, he’s already developed an insatiable curiosity. He’s already exploring and I’ve taken the necessary precautions of baby-proofing the house, including blocking off the stairs. He’s tuckered himself out, so I put him down for a nap. I must take advantage of this time to write a much longer letter to you. Though it won’t make up for my long silence, it’s a start.

Being a father is absolutely terrifying. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time or if I’m doing anything correctly. It’s strange how easy it comes, isn't it? Worrying. I don’t think it’ll ever go away. Not so long as I love him. And I love him so very much. I enjoy his company and hope that, as he grows older, our bond will be just as strong. The neighbors, especially the older ladies with grandchildren, have been nice enough to show me what to do and how to do it. They’re all too eager to help me and I’m so grateful. Though I don’t wear my wedding ring anymore, they believe me to be a widower whose wife died from the flu or childbirth. I don’t have the heart to correct them on a technicality. Nobody knows us. Nobody knows John Stevenson.

This is a new environment. Johnny will have the chance to pave his future here without the encumbrance of his father’s memory following him like a terrible ghost. I feel it will be better for him to have a clean slate rather than grow up where he would be constantly reminded that he’s the adoptive son of an “alleged murderer”. If we had stayed, John’s shadow would’ve loomed over him, darkening his every step, his every action, his every breath. Our old neighbors, John’s friends… They would’ve never let Johnny be his own person, with his own thoughts, interests, and talents. They’d take one look at him and only see John, his father. They’d hold him up to some impossible standard, unfairly subject him to competing with his father’s corpse, pressure him into being a carbon copy of the John they once knew.

As Johnny grows, I can see more and more of his father in him. He’s like John in so many ways. He has his eyes, he has his nice hands… but I don’t resent him for it. Quite the opposite. I hope he has his heart. Oh, it was a very good heart. A tender heart to be in such a rugged body. I just know what the people from our old church would say if we hadn’t left. They would say that he can thank God if he grows up to be like him but, while I’m proud that there’s a vestige of John that still lives, he’ll always be Johnny to me. Not John Jr. Just Johnny. He’s more than just his father’s son, and I want him to grow up knowing that. While John’s body returned to the soil, his spirit will watch over us and live in our hearts. It will bring sadness as we transform to this new way of connecting, yet this is part of living.

When you receive letters from me that are so brief they only take up a page or less, you can safely assume it’s because I was distracted or otherwise preoccupied with looking after a very active little boy who’s grown bored with crawling and now has to climb almost everything he sees. I can’t turn my back or my eyes away for a second. I’m always watching him, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself or get into something he isn’t supposed to. All my love.

Louis xxxxx

However, despite the change of scenery, during this period of his life, Louis became little more than a recluse who only left his house to go shopping, attend church, and take his son to school or friends’ houses and pick him up hours later or the next day. His life was nearly dominated by his guilt, not because of the rumors or speculation, but out of genuine remorse and regret over what he did or didn’t do. He often wrote to you that he believed it was his fault. It was his fault they were dead. Madeleine and John. He killed his family. He often thought about what ifs. If he’d done something a little bit differently, then maybe John would still be alive and…

You could tell he was heading down a slippery slope of self-hatred and you had to do something to snap him out of it before he succumbed to his survivor’s guilt. You had to help him realize that human memory was often unreliable, with or without the head trauma he suffered while in service, and that, no matter what happened in the past, he couldn’t let it consume him and suck everything out of him until there was nothing left but a despondent shell.

Due to what you called a family emergency, you had to quit your job and return home rather abruptly. Something happened in 1917. Something changed. Louis wasn’t sure what it was. During this period, you went radio silent and didn’t even have the chance to warn Louis of it beforehand. Your letters just stopped coming one day. His letters to you suddenly went unanswered or were returned to sender, and he didn’t know why. Did you move and live under a different address? Did you find someone else? Did you die? He couldn’t bear to think about it. You never called or sent a telegram or cable, nothing. There was no correspondence from you whatsoever for nearly an entire year. It was very out of character for you, assuming you were still alive. God, he missed you. He missed you terribly.

Eventually you returned to working as a nurse and you and Louis rekindled your romance as you resumed writing to each other in 1918. When he received that first envelope with your name on it, he opened it so fast he nearly sliced his hand open with the letter opener. In your first letter to him after you all but dropped off the face of the earth, he was expecting an apology and an explanation for your disappearance at the very least. It was with an unsteady hand that he slowly unfolded the sheet of paper and he realized then that he was afraid. Afraid that this letter would change everything. He began to read through its contents and… There was an apology, but no explanation. Your letter was brief as you told him that you were sorry for causing him to worry. You told him that “it” was over, but you weren’t ready to talk about “it” just yet. He didn’t know what you were referring to and, when he wrote back to you and asked for clarification, all you could tell him in your next letter was that “it” had nothing to do with him and didn’t refer to your relationship, but “it” was “a very bad thing”.

Your response confused him even more, but it was a good enough answer for him. It had to be, because that was the most he was going to get out of you. If he kept pushing, he would’ve only succeeded in pushing you away. He didn’t want you to retreat and close yourself off from him, so he changed the subject and never brought it up again. Whatever it was, you obviously weren’t in the right mental or emotional headspace to talk about it with anyone. But you promised he’d not just be the first person, he’d be the only person you’d tell, just as soon as you were ready. It was about five years later when that day finally came.

18 October 1923

That inner critic is a bit loud today, huh? It wants to save you from making mistakes but it's creating anxiety, doubt, and misplaced shame and guilt. I think you need a dose of self-compassion. Be as sweet to yourself as you are to others. Being kind should radiate inwards as well as into the world beyond. As a nurse, it’s my duty to see to the well-being of my patients. And that includes you, my dearest. You just tell me whenever you’re feeling glum or thinking such terrible thoughts, and I’ll prescribe you as many sweet words of affirmation as you need until you’re feeling better. You may believe yourself to be a monster, but the voice in your head that’s telling you such things is lying to you. It often comes out at the worst of times, when a person is at their most vulnerable. It gets especially loud during the changing of the seasons. When summer turns to autumn to welcome in the winter months, I’ve noticed a shift in the moods of patients. They too experience what you’re experiencing, and I promise that I’ll do everything I can to help you drown out that deceptive voice in your head.

If you still don’t believe me, let me tell you a story. When I was a young girl, I knew bad men. These men were the sweetest of men within our community, always ready to lend a hand and always quick with a joke, often followed by a generous laugh. Their words were to our ears what frosted cake was to our tongues. They were every wish come true that we never knew we should wish for. But if any of us had looked closer, maybe we would’ve seen how these men pulled back their lips and smiled through gritted teeth. These men were monsters in human flesh that only revealed their true nature behind closed doors. They fooled everyone around them. Every neighbor, every party guest. One of them even fooled me into marriage.

I knew Frederick Lannington since childhood. He was a friend and business partner of my father, closer to his age than my own. He was an American, though he owned properties all over America and Europe. Father was the last family I had left and, after he died, I thought I’d never recover from his death. But Frederick... He took me through the worst of my grief. He was a calculated distraction. If only I realized then how well-calculated it was…

“I'd like you to see my house. I think it will please you.”

“There can't be a place like it for one hundred miles.”

“One thousand. It's all been assembled with great care. There's only one thing that I've wanted that I've been waiting for for a long time, because I'm a perfectionist.” He kissed your hand.

“Nothing of value is gained easily,” you teased, before your eyes were caught by a beautiful vase, a true work of art. “How beautiful.”

“Isn't it? It needs a woman of your taste to appreciate its magnificent beauty. Here, look. Server, 1782. There are only two others like it in the whole world.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Note the perfection of the enameling.”

“How lovely.”

“I had to wait for it for seven years. The man who presented it in Paris was a fool who let himself be outbid by a Frenchman.”

“But you were stubborn.”

“Yes, I waited. Finally, I learned through a contact at the French Sûreté that the sister of the owner was seized in Germany. It would take all his money and more to get the old lady out. So I made my bid.”

“And he had to accept.”

“It was a bargain.” He kissed the side of your face, but you pulled away and walked around, your eyes taking in the beauty around you. He followed you and stood so close that he nearly pinned your body to the wall behind you, his chest nearly pressed up against you.

“I never saw such a collection.”

“All my life I've believed that if you were willing to take the time and energy, you could have anything you desired. All my life I have sought perfection.”

“It seems perfect.”

“Now it is perfect.” He leaned in and, though a part of you was apprehensive, you let him kiss you. But you didn’t let him do anything more than that. When he kissed you, there was no spark. There was nothing. You felt nothing.

He proposed to me when I was only seventeen years old. He got me alone while I was at a party with some friends. A friend and I went outside to enjoy the fresh air. We were animatedly engaged in chitchat, and I was too busy catching up with her to notice anyone else around me since I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Then Frederick approached me and interrupted our conversation.

“Dear, may I have a few minutes with you?”

“I'm sorry, but I'm busy.”

“Please. It's important.”

“Oh, very well.” You turned toward your friend with an apologetic smile and promised you’d find her later to resume your conversation. “I'll have to claim you a little later.” You walked away with Frederick, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted that was so important that he had to drag you away from your friend. “Well?”

“I asked you out here to...to explain about last night.”

“It seemed quite clear to me.”

“Dear.” He held your arm, but you pried it off of you.

“I'm afraid I have a bit of a headache for this sort of thing.”

“There was no such thing intended.”

“Sorry, I misunderstood. Now shall we go inside?”

“Please. Darling.” He grabbed you by the arms to stop you from moving away. “Why do you think I wanted you to see my home last night? Why do you think I asked you to come out here now? From the moment I saw you again for the first time after so many summers apart, I knew I'd met the one woman that I wanted to be my wife. They call me a great man. It’s the loneliest animal in the world. I need you extremely badly, my dear.” He buried his face in your hair, kissing the back of your head.

You pulled away. “I'm afraid the answer is no.”

“Why? Because of my manners?”

“They have been perfect.”

“Well, isn't my house as fine as those you are used to?”

“Far better.”

“What is it then?”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m not fashionable enough for you. You need someone who’s elegant and refined.”

“I want you. What is it, really?”

“Well, it's just that I'm not attracted to you.”

“What's wrong with me?” He suddenly tightened his grip on you, nearly hurting you. His demeanor changed so quickly and so suddenly that it frightened you.

“Let me go.”

“Answer me.” He grabbed your face to forcibly turn your head and kissed you, as if his kiss alone could sway you to give him the answer he desired. You pulled away and he kissed your forehead, suddenly remorseful of his previous actions. He didn’t mean to be so harsh with you.

He apologized for behaving very badly and swore to me that it’d never happen again. He gave me time and space to think about his offer, and I mistook this as him respecting me, giving me a choice. I was left to fend for myself when it came to making decisions, good or bad. I was so young and naive with no one left in the world to guide me, and I foolishly believed him and forgave him. I came around to him and, in 1906, I married him. I was a bride at only seventeen years old and my bridegroom was fifty-two. Once the ink was dried on our marriage license, all the promises he made to me died on the wind.

People think he left me for some woman in Arizona. That we separated after I learned of his infidelity. But that's not the truth. Frederick regularly entertained and, when we returned from our honeymoon, at the begging of the neighbors who loved the previous ones, Frederick decided we’d host a fancy ball in my honor.

“The Lannington ball always was the show of the year. Top dog.”

“Grand site, the mansion all lit up. I love fireworks.”

“It does sound a little daunting.” Your voice was laced with the uncertainty and doubt of a new bride. You were still trying to find your place in the world and, after you married, you felt like an outsider in the world your husband belonged to. Everything was so different and new from what you knew and grew up with, and you were suddenly tossed into the middle of it without any warning or preparation.

“Oh, you’ll carry it off.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything alarming. Just receive the guests and dance the night away.”

“Yes, my God. Whole county getting drunk and making fools of themselves.” Frederick nodded his head sarcastically as he picked up his glass of wine.

“Frederick always groans and he always enjoys it in the end.”

“Do I?”

“That’s a yes!”

“I’d like to help organize.”

Frederick shook his head. “Oh, no no no. You leave all that to the servants. They know the form.”

“Quite right. Never volunteer, my dear. You just have fun.”

As the day of the ball approached, Frederick became more and more stressed. And he took that stress out on me. He noticed my hands were stained. I still had small spots of charcoal or ink on them. He wasn’t pleased. Back in those days, women were discouraged from writing because it would ultimately create an identity and become a form of defiance. I realized that writing became one of the only forms of existence for women at a time when they had very few rights.

“What's that? Writing again! What about your duties?”

You, confused, looked down at your hands and wrung them together. You didn’t dare wipe them on your dress as you knew doing so would provoke your husband’s ire even more. “I... I finished them.”

“Oh, really? Did you tell the servants to make the beds? Sweep the floors? Weed the garden?”

“Yes.”

“Beat the rugs? Wax the table? Polish the silver?

“Yes, dear.”

“Wash and mend my clothes?”

“Hilda folded and put them away.”

Frederick turned and went up the grand staircase, but stopped halfway when one of the treads squeaked offensively loudly, the sound grating on his ears. He turned towards you. “Listen to that. You're supposed to keep the house in perfect order.”  “But I didn't know about—” “It's your job to know!” He went up the stairs and didn’t even glance back at you as he said, “I've taken care of you since your father died, and this is how you thank me? By frittering away your time, writing? This is atrocious.“

We were married for about five months when the evening of the party arrived. It took so many weeks of planning and, in between it all, Frederick either couldn’t or wouldn’t stop working. He was often called away, so it was hard setting a date that worked for the both of us. We wanted to celebrate our nuptials with our friends, some of whom couldn’t make it to the wedding. They were more Frederick’s friends than mine. I didn’t have very many friends to begin with, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let me invite any of them.

“I've asked a number of guests to dinner tonight at 7:30 to welcome you here.”

“Hilda told me you had. It's very nice of you, dear.”

“These people are very important friends and associates, and I won’t have you embarrassing me in front of them. I’ll be wearing my very best tonight. Diamond cufflinks and all that. I want you to do the same. Wear only what I had the maids set out for you in your bedroom.”

“But what if I've lost or gained weight since we saw each other last? Whatever new dress you bought for me, what if it won't fit?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. It’ll fit. I've hired a seamstress for you. We can have all your dresses refitted to suit your new size if need be. I've asked her to stay late tonight, in case there may be any minor alterations necessary. I won’t have my wife caught dead wearing an ill-fitting dress.”

“You've thought of everything, haven't you, darling? If you'll excuse me—”

Ball guests arrived. They were milling about, the men in white tie, the women in long dresses and long silk gloves. The unmarried ladies were all dressed in virginal white, the bachelors in summer dinner jackets. Frederick was standing with me while I overlooked the party from the banister. The most important thing to remember was that I had to look impeccable at all times. My hair, my makeup…flawless all the time. Frederick got very upset if he saw people looking drab or unkempt or unmade up, so I had to look good at all times. Heels were a must. He didn’t want to catch me in Kedettes or, God forbid, sneakers. So heels had to be worn at all times.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he glanced me over, no doubt scrutinizing me, trying to find any microscopic flaw in my appearance so he could have an excuse to send me to my room. But there were none, so he said nothing. From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I could see through to the drawing room. It was equally full as the foyer. People were moving in and out of the buffet where servants were serving champagne punch. Beyond the dining room, the terrace had a number of small tables laid out. There was the sound of loud chatter and music over the whole scene. The dancing was in full sway. An orchestra was playing a waltz. The older guests retired to the sidelines.

“It's a very nice party, isn't it?”

“Oh, yes, it's a wonderful party.”

“You’ve done it wonderfully well. I'm very proud. Shall we?” Frederick interlocked his arm with yours. With your arm laced around his elbow, he led you both down the stairs.

We nodded our greetings and shook hands with the guests that were standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for us. The hallway was thronged with the guests of the evening. Frederick left my side just for a moment to greet more guests but stayed close, standing only a few paces away from me. He was chatting to another man who was just leaving him. The front door was closed and the footman was still standing by. My face wore an expression of concealed anxiety as I looked furtively toward the front door, as if trying to will it to remain that way. Frederick came over to me and laced my arm with his. The great mansion blazed with light from every window. Frederick and I returned to the ballroom. The first dance was finishing. Gradually couples joined, including us. All the couples were talking as they were dancing, as they spun in the waltz, at the heart of the scene.

“Well, I think we might join the rest of the party now. I think all our guests are here.” As Frederick said these last words, he gave a glance toward you. Your face broke from its slight anxiety and you nodded acquiescence. He led you away into the main part of the hall and you were soon lost among the crowd.

The doorbell rang and the footman admitted a late-comer. His attitude was genial and breezy. He asked something of the footman, and the footman indicated the crowd in the main part of the hall. He got lost in the crowd, threading his way through the people, looking for me. I caught sight of him, and my face that once held concealed anxiety turned into restrained relief. My heart wanted my surprise guest to be there, but my brain wanted him gone as soon as possible.

It was Henri Freycinet, another friend of my family. I hadn’t seen him in years. We had been pen pals but, after he confessed that he loved me from the moment he met me, we were lovers for a time. Though our dalliance began in the autumn of 1905 and ended by the summer of 1906, shortly before Frederick proposed to me, we enjoyed our courtship immensely. As brief as it was. He wanted us to get married. We once spent three days and three nights sharing a hotel room, but our weekend in sin was just part of his plan to persuade me to accept.

“No. Henri. Henri, don’t. Henri. We have to talk about this reasonably.”

“I have loved you since the moment I clapped eyes on you. What could be more reasonable than to marry you?”

“We’d kill each other!”

“Nonsense!”

“Neither of us can keep our temper.”

“I can. Unless provoked.”

“We’re both stupidly stubborn. Especially you. We’d only quarrel.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“You can’t even propose without quarreling.”

“Mon cœur…” He kissed your forehead. “I swear I’ll be a saint. I’ll let you win every argument, take care of you. I’ll give you every luxury you’ve ever been denied. You won’t have to work. Unless you want to. Father wants me to learn how to fly, in England. Can’t you see us flying over London?” He took your face in his hands and kissed you.

But I refused his proposal. I said no because, when it came to it, he wasn't right. At least, not for me. We wanted different things.

“Henri, please don’t ask me again.”

He slowly lowered his hands from your face and turned away from you. He picked at the skin of his palms. He didn’t say anything at first, but he didn’t push you away when you tried to hold his hand and hug him from the side either.

“I’m desperately sorry. I do care for you with all of my heart. You’re my dearest friend. I just can’t go be a wife.”

“You say you won’t, but you will.”

“I won’t, I won’t!”

“One day, you’ll meet some man. A good man. And you will love him tremendously. And you will live and die for him.”

“Henri, please—”

“You will. I know you. If only I could be a fly on the wall and watch such a love unfold before my very eyes... While I hoped against hope that I could convince you to change your mind and consent to be my wife, your refusal won’t make me think any less of you or stop me from loving you. There are many different forms of love, after all, none of them any less meaningful or valuable than the romantic variety. Thank you, my dearest friend, for loving me and making so many beautiful memories with me. I’ll always treasure the time we spent together and everything we shared. That’s what you’ll be to me from now on. Mon trésor. I hope we meet again.”

I wanted to spare him from having to read a Dear John letter, so we called it quits and parted as friends. Even after we amicably ended our calf love, he kept writing to me from England. I knew he was still in love with me, but I cherished him as a friend and confidant even more than I did when he was my lover. Last I heard, he had just recently acquired his pilot’s license and was now Captain Freycinet.

“Bonjour, mon trésor. Remember me?” He tried to kiss your hand, but you wouldn’t let him. You felt your husband’s eyes on the back of your head, so he was probably standing just a few paces behind you. You only outstretched your hand to allow Henri a firm and impersonal handshake in greeting. You were quick to pull away after your hands met for just a moment, as if his touch burned you.

“Why did you come here?”

“This week, mademoiselle, we offer one red rose with each year's subscription...to the aviation magazine.”

“Oh, no. Please, you've got to go.”

The maids were whispering and gossiping amongst each other as they went about the room serving the guests. They tried to keep their voices low and cover their mouths with their hands, but Frederick could still hear what they were saying as they stood giggling by a table and filled their serving trays with finger foods and drinks. It looked to them like you and the man were flirting.

“The Mistress’s friend is a very attractive man, isn't he?”

“I heard from Jimmy that he’s an old family friend of hers. If you ask me, I think he’s an old beau who’s come back to rekindle an old flame. If she doesn’t take him, I will!”

The maids quickly went back to their duties but smiled as they discreetly watched the dancing in the ballroom.

Frederick purposely ignored their reference to your uninvited and unwelcome guest, but hearing the word “mistress,” even used in proper context, made his eye twitch and his fists clench like a nervous tick. He turned away to greet a guest. “Madame Estorik - I'm so glad to see you. The party seems to be going off very well, doesn't it? I must say my wife has managed wonderfully.”

By the way Frederick gave a half glance back again, I could see that he was doing everything in his power to maintain his composure. He was so tense that I worried he’d squeeze the wine glass he was holding until it shattered to pieces in his hand. His face was expressionless, the perfect mask of impassivity. But the look in his eyes only added to my uneasiness about him, as if he was warning me through his eyes alone not to test his patience. His attention had been distracted for a moment by two other guests, but not for long. He turned in our direction, his attention now fully on Henri as he followed our meeting.

There was a look of ungovernabie fury on Frederick’s face. He turned and moved toward the French doors. He started shoving his way through the dancers, blind to their presence, jostling one young couple. Hands were applauding wildly, the sound of the palms meeting was magnified, almost immediately augmented by the sound of many other hands clapping. The effect was a nightmare rather than realistic, the crowded dance floor and the guests applauding the end of a number. The party was clearly approaching its climax. The young people on the floor continued to clap, their applause rapidly being transformed into a demand for more music. The bandleader shook his head, half bemused, half anxious. Then, shrugging helplessly, he grinned, turned to his band and, as if suddenly caught up in the young people’s wild enthusiasm, led them into an impossibly fast Charleston. Some of the older guests seated at the edge of the room viewed the proceedings with increasing bewildermant and a little apprehension. That rug, that stupid old filthy rug, had seen more dancing shoes than a ballroom. It was where we all twirled, everyone with everyone, the music escaping from every open window and door.

“Well, my dear... I see you have a guest even more special than our other special guests. Come in, sir, come in. We mustn’t lurk in doorways. It’s rude.” Frederick’s voice and demeanor was cordial as he and Henri shook hands. “Any friend of hers is welcome.”

“Thank you. It was nice of her to invite me. I must apologize for arriving late.”

Frederick knew for a fact that you hadn’t, because he put himself in charge of making the guest list and sending the invitations out. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We both invite you.”

“Please leave. Please leave.” Your quiet pleas went either unheard or ignored.

Frederick put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. To anyone else, it would appear as a loving gesture. To you, it was a warning not to do anything stupid. “Don't be so inhospitable, my dear. As host and hostess, we must see that all our guests are fed…and amused.” He shook you in a way that seemed playful, then turned his attention back to the much younger man. “We’re pleased you are here. Did she tell you that we're flying East tonight?”

“That's why I'm here.”

“Indeed. We're to have the pleasure of your company?”

“No. I don't know how to say this, and I hope you understand, but you're not going to have the pleasure of your niece’s company either.”

Frederick paused, his eyes glancing off to the side questioningly. “We'll explore that remark over a drink. Come along. Won't you sit down?” He took your close friend and former lover by the elbow and walked with him over to the tables where there was food and drinks. “The wine is to the left. Highball? Or won't that mix with what you've had?”

Henri took a seat and made himself comfortable on one of the couches. “That'll be fine, thanks.”

“And where did you two meet? At the drugstore tonight?”

“Oh, no. We've been seeing each other every night.”

A lie. A blatant lie told to make himself look better in front of your husband, whom he mistook as your uncle. Henri only ever saw Frederick from afar or in passing, and he was always in your father’s company. The men were never properly introduced. They never actually met. It was an easy assumption to make. But you shuddered as you dreaded how such an assumption would cost him dearly. If you could’ve, you would’ve put your head in your hands in that moment. You wanted the floor to open up underneath you and swallow you whole.

“Seeing each other every night? Lovely. So you must be the young man.”

“Mr. Lannington, there's no sense beating around the bush. I'm in love with your niece.”

“That's quite apparent. Well, that's quite...romantic, Mister...” Frederick purposely trailed off, and Henri was foolish enough to take the bait and give him his full name, his real name.

“Captain. Captain Henri Freycinet.”

“A Captain? Uh...not a very substantial career, as yet?”

“Well, I think we can manage to get along without any help from you, if that's what you mean.”

“It is what I mean.” You tried to speak, but Frederick coldly interrupted your attempt at interrupting him. “Be quiet. Do you mind being not quite so demonstrative in my presence?“

“Mr. Lannington, I wanna marry your niece.”

“I wish you'd stop calling her my niece. She happens to be my wife.”

Henri instantly went white. “She's your wife?”

“Yes, Captain. Oh, I concede the conspicuous difference in our ages. She married me for my money. I married her for her youth. We both got what we wanted, after a fashion.”

Henri got up and stepped around you. Still holding his glass of highball in his hand, he finished the drink like a shot and leaned over slightly to put his empty glass on a table, which worried you.

“Where are you going?”

“I think I'll go out and get some fresh air.”

“Not without me.”

After he left, Frederick questioned you, his voice cold and calculated. Alone in the parlor with no witnesses, there wasn’t a need to put on airs anymore. The facade instantly dropped. “Does he bother you very much?”

“No, darling. He’s trying to drown his sorrows.”

“I don’t blame anyone for being in love with you, darling. I just hope that nothing will happen to give him any false impression.”

“Let me talk to him. I can convince him to leave and never come back. Just give me a chance. Please.” Your expression conveyed your desperation to get rid of your former lover and best friend before he got himself into more trouble, as well as veiled anxiety to get away from Frederick in that moment.

He stared at you for a minute, as if debating whether or not he could trust you. With a wave of his hand, he let you go. You didn’t waste a single second as you took advantage of the opportunity that he was giving you to clean up your mess yourself. You left in search of Henri. You knew that if you didn’t fix it in time, Frederick would.

Henri walked around the terrace, behaving quite casually and puffing away at his cigarette as though he had come out to enjoy the night air. Behind him was a faint impression of a glass door, faintly reflecting the moonlit garden. Suddenly a flood of light appeared from one of the side doors. As he straightened up and turned around, he approached the few steps leading to the side door, when you appeared and opened it, causing him to collide into you. Without a word you took him forcefully by the arm and dragged him inside, across to a corridor that led to the wine cellar, allowing him to pass through as you looked anxiously about you the entire time. You pointed to the back door at the end of the passage. He could leave quietly and discreetly through there without any of the other guests seeing him. You were struggling to keep it together, a disturbed and almost impatient figure as your hair raised from the back of your neck and chills raced down your spine. The more he dawdled and stubbornly refused to listen to you, the more time you were wasting. Soon it would run out, and you dreaded having to witness what would happen when it did.

“The fireworks are ready, sir. Timed perfectly to discharge directly after all the party guests are escorted outside.”

“Whatever you have planned is not good enough, Jimmy. Make them bigger, longer, brighter! Our guests must be captivated.” Frederick then gathered all the guests together within half an hour. The indistinct overlapping chatter quieted down as he grabbed their attention, everyone’s eyes turned towards him. “Everyone, outside. I have a surprise for you all! Just over there. The real celebrations will begin shortly.”

The fireworks were chaos and unpredictability, their explosive gifts finding their own time and space to own. As they did, the party guests were captivated spectators watching their blazing trails arc above. Frederick turned and looked across in the direction the two of you went. The party guests were too captivated by the popping of the bright colors lighting up the night sky to notice that their genial host slipped away. Frederick opened the side door leading to the wine cellar. As his silhouette darkened the doorway, your face held apprehension as you looked up. Words couldn’t even begin to express how disappointed he was in your failure to do something he thought was the most simplest of tasks. His short sigh filled you with dread. You knew the confrontation that he held over your head like a looming threat was now inevitable. A consequence of your actions. Or inaction, rather, depending on the point of view. From his point of view, it looked as though you and Henri were laughing. You insisted that your attitudes were casual, as though you were just enjoying some inconsequential joke. But while your physical attitudes were broad and gay, your voices were low and intent, which made Frederick all the more suspicious.

Some of the pages of your letter were blank, and Louis knew that you used invisible ink. A secret communication. He flicked open his lighter and used the flame to warm the blank pages, and hidden writing started to appear. It was a confession from you, meant for his eyes only. You loved Louis so very much. His happiness was the only thing you wanted in the whole world…but you did a bad thing to make certain of it. A very bad thing that you kept locked away in your heart for nearly five years.

Henri’s flirting with me, you know, a little buzzed. Then Frederick comes down to the wine cellar…

“I'm sorry to intrude on this…tender scene, but I saw you come this way.”

“Frederick, not here. We’ll talk alone.”

“You’re afraid to speak in front of him?”

“No. I couldn’t help what happened. He’s been drinking. Can't you see he's had too much to drink?” You protested, wanting this nightmarish scene to end.

“Yes, I can see it. He carried you down here?” His voice was laced with sarcasm and skepticism. It was a rhetorical question, and you knew that. He then turned his focus onto Henri. “Forgive me. My analytical mind again. You said something moments ago in the parlor that got me thinking. You’re still in love with my wife, you’ve made that point perfectly clear. So let me ask you one simple question: Is she in love with you?”

“Well, hasn't she told you?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She has not. She never even mentioned you.”

“Frederick, please!”

“You love him.”

“No. Absolutely— No. Not in the way you think. You're being foolish, Frederick. I came here because he threatened to make a scene unless I'd see him alone.” You turned toward Henri, one last desperate plea as you implored him to leave. “Please go!”

“For what it's worth, as an apology, she’s telling the truth. It’s funny. You say she didn’t mention me to you? She didn’t mention you to me. Just before I shipped out, I thought she’d wait for me. I realized I was mistaken when she told me she’d prefer it if we parted as friends before I left. She wanted to spare me the heartache of a Dear John letter. When I got leave I came back here, hoping against hope that I could win her back. But no. It seems I’m once again mistaken. It’s too late. I only had her for a short time. But in that time, I knew her better than you, made love to her better than you… And, if I had married her, I would’ve been a much better husband to her than you.” He glanced at you from over his shoulder and shrugged. “Sorry, darling.”

“Please go!”

“It’s time you get back in line, Captain.”

“If that’s how you feel. I believe I’m done here. Good day.” He turned to leave, but Frederick blocked the path to the door, physically stopping him from leaving.

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You had your chance to get him out, but you took too long. Now Frederick had to take matters into his own hands, and he had a point to make. Captain Henri Freycinet, so haughty and naive, became involuntarily involved in the domestic dispute and suddenly found himself in the thick of it, all because your husband was bitter, jealous, and ironic. Frederick pressed his fingers so hard onto Henri’s chest that the Frenchman left a bruise forming. “Appealing, isn't she?”

…and he grabs this poor man and just beats the shit out of him.

You watched in horror as Frederick beat Henri with a fireplace poker. A fireplace poker that he grabbed from the parlor before going outside. He knew you’d go to the wine cellar. He timed the fireworks so that nobody could hear the sounds of a struggle, any thwacks, thumps, and screams drowned out by the loud gasps of awe and thunderous applause from the party guests gathered outside. No witnesses. It wasn’t just a crime of passion. It was premeditated. First he hit him in the stomach, then the face, nearly stabbing him in the right eye and gauging it out with the sharp, pointed end of the iron rod. Henri fought back. But he was a pilot, so hand-to-hand combat wasn’t his forte. Regardless, he didn’t want to hurt your husband. He knew that if he did, even in self-defense, he’d be punished for harming him under a corrupt system that listened to money over justice. He knew he was screwed either way.

Using his strength, Frederick held him immobile on his knees. “You’re gonna learn, Captain.” He brutally punched him in the face, knocking him to his stomach on the floor. He kicked him in the face, then picked him up by the back of his jacket and slammed his face into a wall. “And if you ever even think of sassing me again—” Frederick threw him onto a wooden table. The table splintered and collapsed from the weight of Henri’s body and the force of the impact. He was bleeding heavily and barely conscious. Your husband stopped and noticed blood that splattered on his suit, staining the fabric. Blood that wasn’t his. His voice was laced with annoyance as he tsked, “Ah. Look what you did to my suit!”

You tried to stop him and act as a shield, but getting between the two men only resulted in your earring getting torn from your ear in the ensuing struggle. You’re still not sure which of them did it, but you were sobbing as you held your earring in your hand and pressed a handkerchief to your ear to stem the bleeding. Frederick didn’t stop until Henri struck his head on the concrete floor and was knocked unconscious. He nudged him with the fireplace poker, but the poor Captain didn’t move a muscle. Frederick checked his pulse and there was still a steady beat under his fingers. With Henri out cold, Fredrick didn’t see a point in continuing his lesson. Both the party and his fun was just about over. Captain Freycinet was as revolting as Frederick believed he should’ve been. He wanted the outside to repulse you so you’d never want to set eyes on him again. He was grotesque. Already his eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws.

Frederick scolded both Henri and himself. “Oh, come on, that's a custom made Sartori rug! You idiot! I should’ve put a tarp down first.” With a wrinkled nose Frederick took a step backwards. He was tempted to whisper something in Henri’s ear. The Frenchman was broken and lying in a heap on the floor. He won, and he wanted to gloat. But what was the point. Henri would be lucky to remember his own name. Taking great care not to step in it and stain the bottom of his expensive shoes, Frederick walked over the bloody mess that had once been a man but was reduced to little more than an unrecognizable pile of mush. He dialed for an ambulance himself. Maiming a burglar who attempted to intrude upon his home through his wine cellar wouldn’t bring down nearly the same heat as killing one. And this way his disfigured face would be a living reminder to you of what happened to those who dared to cross Frederick Lannington and emasculate him by making public declarations of love to his wife in his house. He wouldn’t tolerate such audacity. With smooth hand movements, he wiped Henri’s blood from the fireplace poker with his cloth handkerchief.

“He kissed you.”

“I couldn't stop him. I tried.”

Then he tells me to go back to the party and see to our guests. He was so nonchalant about what had just transpired mere minutes ago. As if nothing had happened at all.

“We’ll talk about it later. Your guests are upstairs. Please join them. The ambulance is on its way. I’ll stay with him until they arrive, in case he wakes up.”

You heard what your husband said, but you couldn’t will your body to move. You were frozen, petrified. His patience wearing thin, Frederick forcibly grabbed you by the arms, squeezing so hard he left bruises as he shook you to snap you out of your shock. You were thankful the dress he gifted you and made you wear had long, opaque sleeves. Your movements were jerky. You were unable to move with any grace. You didn’t want to leave Henri alone with your husband, but you knew that staying behind would only anger Frederick and make an already very bad situation even worse.

When the paramedics arrived, everyone gathered around and gawked, barely giving them room to breathe. Everyone was told to back up and keep the area clear as Frederick, who conveniently divested himself of his bloodied suit jacket and stashed away the fireplace poker and bloody handkerchief so they’d remain unseen, hurriedly led the medics to where the injured man, unrecognizable in his current state, still laid unconscious, his voice laced with worry. He was a well-practiced actor and liar. He never faltered or slipped up once while questioned by the police and paramedics about what happened. His account was plausible and there were no contradictions or inconsistencies that they could detect, so they had no reason to suspect that he, a man of his wealth and social standing, would ever lie. He told the police that he didn’t want to press charges, believing the man, whoever he was, had suffered enough and wouldn’t dare to come back to try again at a later time.

His face was damaged almost beyond the point at which recovery was possible. There was a cut above his eyebrow, and the scarlet blood flowed into his eyes. Or rather, eye. Singular. By the time help arrived, the left eye was still swollen, but the right eye looked like it was on the verge of bursting out of the socket. His body didn’t appear to be too bad, until the paramedics cut away his clothes and the blooming purple patches told of internal ruptures, likely organ damage. They had looked at him with encouraging faces but were utterly ashen when he couldn't see them, giving involuntary shakes of their heads. Although he would live to see another day, it was uncertain if he’d die in hospital or not. even if he made it, those scars would be forever. And all the while there was you crying in the background like your heart had snapped in two. The hall was soon deserted after that, save for the last guest who moved, a bit unsteadily, out of the door. You and Frederick turned away from the last guest. There were signs of the end of the party. Footmen and maids were beginning to clear up.

You were worried about Frederick’s attitude.“Frederick, I’m really sick at heart over what happened.”

He looked at you and a new expression was on his face. The jealousy and pain were gone. In their stead was a curious urbanity. He would seem whimsical were it not for the underlying tension of his manner and the unexpectedness of his new attitude. “My dear…” He took your hands. “I shall never forgive myself for behaving like a stupid schoolboy.”

“Then you believe me.”

“Certainly, my dear. The incident isn’t even worth mentioning again.”

You started toward the stairs. Your voice was quiet as you told him, “Thank you, Frederick. Are you coming up?“

After that, we didn’t host or attend anymore parties. Frederick was a bad, bad man. Although he didn’t say it outright, I had my suspicions he wanted me out of the house so he could bring in other women. He married me because I was the only kin Father had left, so he left me everything in his will. He wanted control over my inheritance, all my money and my assets. Once he had that, he wanted to be free of the encumbrance of a wife. He’d send me away as soon as an opportune moment presented itself. Then Russia declared war on Germany. It was just what he needed. It was perfect. In 1914, in the face of opposition from the restrictive social code for affluent young women, he enrolled me in a training college under my maiden name so he could get me onto a course to start my training as an auxiliary nurse. He warned me it may be something of a rough awakening and asked me if I was ready for that. I’d have to learn how to make my own bed or scrub a floor, for example. Or what about cooking? He asked our cook if she could give me one or two basic tips, such as how to boil an egg or how to make tea. When I started my course, he didn’t want me to be a joke and thought it might be useful for me to know a little more than nothing.

After two months I finished my course and set off with a team of women to assist in nursing the wounded men from the war. I saw all sorts of gruesome and gnarly illnesses, injuries, infections, and loss of life and limb. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. It was more savage and more cruel than I could've imagined. But I felt useful for the first time in my life, and that must’ve been a good thing. I wouldn't go back to my life before the war. I could never go back to that again. As I learned about medicine and patient care, I learned to finally let the fake smile go. I learned to let all of my masks go, the ones I wore for others and the ones I wore for myself. Fake smiles simply said I was scared or uncomfortable. A real smile or neutral lips felt almost foreign to me and I realized how long it had been since I last sported a genuine one. I finally let my face do what it did naturally. I smiled with my eyes even when my lips were still.

Masking fear can be good or bad. It's all situational, right? If you defend yourself or others, it's good. If you cut yourself off from yourself or others, deny your vulnerable self the chance to breathe and cry, then it's bad. Masking fear was a survival essential when I was married. So much so that I didn’t feel fear as others did. I processed it differently. I thought that if I ignored the anxious thoughts as if they were some distant radio and got on with doing things that were right for me, in time they’d lessen and disappear. Now when I’m anxious, I vent with a person who loves me, one who has real wisdom and life experience to offer, one who’s the calm and not the storm. I can assure you with full confidence, my love, that you’re a far cry from those monsters and storms. You don’t even come close. My dear, ever since I became a nurse, I’ve taken great care to only see the goodness of those around me. And you, though imperfect as I am, as all living things are, have more goodness in your smallest finger than most people have in their whole body. Nothing you could tell me would ever stop me from loving you, my dearest. I love you. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, and then some.

Your nightgown transformed into your evening gown from that dreadful night. You looked down in bewilderment as you registered the transformation of your dress. The ballroom was empty and silent. You turned wildly to your right and, as you heard the music and the first sounds of gaiety and laughter, your face broke into a smile. Your smile was the silencing of the clocks, it was both the cage and the ever open door. You looked down at your hands, holding a cream-colored handkerchief. You started to turn your head very slowly, as if you were afraid that whatever was happening around you might suddenly vanish. You heard the door swing open more loudly than usual. He made his entrance late. You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him. He was late and you didn’t play nice when guests didn’t show up on time. Then he spoke. You knew it was him but his voice was all wrong, like he was speaking while being choked. You turned. The figure of Henri melted away and transformed into Louis. And then he vanished into thin air before your very eyes. Where did he go? You had to find him. It was a game. The game of hide and seek.

You remembered playing hide and seek when you were a child, but you were never any good at it. Oh, the delicious thrill of hiding while the others came looking for you, the delicious terror of being discovered, but what panic when, after a long search, the others abandoned you! Those early experiences taught you that you mustn't be too good at the game. You mustn't hide too well. The player must never be bigger than the game itself. You’d always make enough noise so your friends would be sure to find you. But that only made you lose the game. You didn’t have anyone to play those games with anymore, but now and then you made enough noise just in case someone was still looking and hadn’t found you yet. When you went looking for Louis, you were playing a desperate game of hide and seek, fearful of what you might find, most afraid that you would find nothing. Love had a way of cheating itself consciously, like a child who played solitary hide and seek. It was pleased with assurances that it all the while disbelieved. Was life always like that? A game of hide and seek in which you always found the person you were longing for but only occasionally found the person you wanted to be? You wondered. Should Louis hide in your heart, it would not be difficult to find him. But should you hide behind your own shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you out.

The chandeliers were just beginning to go dim and you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye. Slowly, very slowly, you turned to look toward the French doors. Louis stood in the open doorway, smiling as before, evidently waiting for you. True love was not a hide and seek game. In true love, both lovers sought each other. The lights were noticeably dimmer. You smiled and ran to him. Coming to a position just in front of him, you made a deep curtsey. He bowed to you and held out his hand. The scene around you remained static until the moment your hand touched Louis’. At that, the music burst forth again, the dance resumed and the ballroom echoed with laughter and gaiety. Louis swept you along into the waltz. You and the man you truly loved whirled around among the other dancers. The music swelled up. As Louis and you continued to waltz, oblivious of everything except each other, the other couples began to melt away, until finally, Louis and you were dancing on your own, still unaware that anything was amiss. Until you noticed that the hand with which he held yours was bloody.

“Louis, you’re bleeding—”

Your words were cut short when you looked up. Your expression froze into one of sudden terror. In one shattered moment your heart and breathing stopped, just stopped. Your mouth opened, but no sound came from it at first. A silent scream. He was a mess, drenched in his own blood. His nose was smashed and eyes almost shut with swelling. His arms were wrapped around his guts like he was holding them in. He was beat so bad that he could’ve been. The music slowly began to fade. Noticing this, Louis faltered and, as he turned to look at you, the music died away completely. He stopped and reacted first with uneasy bewilderment and then with fright. He disengaged himself from you and started to back away towards the French window, his eyes riveted on something behind you. You turned to follow his gaze. The dancers melted away to the very edges of the room in order to clear a path for Frederick, who stood by the open doors of the ballroom and stared at the both of you in a smoldering rage.

Without a word he began to advance on you. You turned to look at Louis, but his eyes were now riveted on your husband as he backed away even further, staggering out into the night. Suddenly, with a cry of fear, he turned, burst open the French window and fell out to his death. You stared into the darkness of the night for a moment and took a few steps forward, as if to chase the vanished apparition, then stopped. His body was gone, leaving behind only bloodstains on the concrete pavement. There was plenty of room for another body. You looked down and your cream-colored handkerchief was wrapped around a concealed knife. A pristine blade, it glinted in the moonlight, waiting to be stained and tarnished with the blood of a man. You clutched at the handle for more purchase as you turned to face your husband. As he advanced on you, he ran into your knife. The knife only did what it was told to do, so you were sure to give it good instructions. You stepped aside and Frederick staggered forwards, taking the knife with him as he fell out of the window onto the exact same spot Louis had been. His body didn’t disappear. As if he was meant to be there when Louis wasn’t. His once brown eyes became hazy as they clouded over with a milky white, translucent film. Your experience as a nurse taught you that this happened after death due to lack of oxygen and circulating blood to the eyes. There was a saying, “Those who die with their eyes wide open deserve it.”

You gasped as you jolted awake, your body covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. There was silence. You were lost, frightened. The light from the hallway flickered and you looked down. Your evening gown turned back into your nightgown. Another nightmare. You could barely move when Frederick was so close to you in your shared bed. Every muscle seized up. Your brain was struggling to recover, to repair the damage of what you witnessed. On each of your arms there were great purple welts that would only deepen over the coming week. Against your ghostly skin they were grotesque, but you knew you were lucky not to have broken bones. Though Frederick never once laid a violent hand against you, the shadows of the beating he inflicted upon Henri were on your skin and heart. The knowledge that your husband could do such a thing just broke something inside of you, something that would remain long after Henri’s skin and bones were healed. It was a sadness in your eyes, a heaviness, an unyielding sorrow that slowed your speech and robbed you of your once easy smile.

Once the color of the night sky with its threads of blue and gold, that Sartori rug told a tale of fear and jealousy once it was stained with splotches of red that, over time, became brown. Frederick could’ve easily replaced it, brought in another. The cost of doing so would’ve been like sparing pennies from his pocket. He could’ve hauled it to the best dry cleaners in the country and have it washed as best as they could. But instead he kept it as it was, wanting those dried bloodstains to serve as a grim reminder to you of the consequences for impertinence.

When you first saw Henri in hospital, you almost didn’t recognize him. His clothes were an utter mess. He was more purple than any human should’ve been. His face still bore congealed blood. He was missing his right eye, which was covered by bandages. His left eye was still swollen. He couldn’t be seeing a thing out of it and he wouldn’t for a while yet. Until his left eye healed, he was blind and had to have nurses keep him steady and guide him. His gait was all wrong. He walked like a scarecrow more than a man. As he neared, your heart was caught in your throat. You were already running. You couldn’t face him just then. Even if what happened wasn’t your fault and you were just as much a victim of Frederick as he was, you couldn’t stop the immense guilt that overwhelmed you and held you in a chokehold. Maybe it made you a coward, maybe it made you selfish, but you couldn’t face him while he was like that.

Due to the extent of his injuries, Captain Freycinet wasn’t expected to make it. But he was a fighter and, miracle of miracles, his emergency surgeries were successes and he pulled through. When questioned by hospital staff about the incident, he could never recall how long the beating had gone on for, only the final kick to his ribs and the sound of the iron bar clattering on the concrete as his assailant dropped it. He laid in the hospital bed, his eye fixed on the window until you walked in. He turned his head to face you. He looked better than when you first saw him. Still bad, but better. He knew already what face you would make, and you did. Your eyes got that wide look, your bottom lip trembled and you hurried to sit by his bedside. Your eyes walked from one injury to another, taking in the gore that was your friend. He could see the conflict already, your wanting to be strong for him and the raw need to weep welling up. He tried to say your name, his cracked lips failing at the first syllable due to dehydration, but he didn’t need to. So instead he croaked,

“It's all right. You can cry.”

It was all the permission you needed. With your head down on the white woolen blanket, minutes passed until you could speak his name. You fetched him a cup of water and he tried to make light of the situation by telling you that he had far worse while in active service and, despite Frederick’s best efforts, he was healing rather well and his appearance wasn’t ravaged. Even with the eyepatch, he was still devilishly handsome. Crisis averted. With his left eye intact, he’d still be able to look at himself in the mirror and admire just how handsome he was. He made bad jokes and puns about how, since there were women who were sexually attracted to men with scars, maybe there were women out there who would be sexually attracted to him now that he sported an eyepatch. Glass eyes didn’t appeal to him, but the eyepatch, now that could be fashionable. He’d also still be able keep an eye on you. Get it? Keep an eye on you? Eye? Singular? The jokes fell flat, but you still appreciated the effort. You smiled wanly at each other.

Henri knew it was easier said than done, but he told you to stop feeling guilty over what happened. He had a lot of time to think about it while laid up in hospital and, looking back on the night of the party in retrospect, he realized that you did everything in your power to protect him. He didn’t blame you one bit for what Frederick did to him. It would take time, but he believed he’d be able to recover and walk away from this, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. A scar may still be there, but he believed that it would gradually hurt less and less until it didn’t hurt at all anymore. He was hopeful and optimistic that, with the right support, he’d heal. He wanted the same healing for you.

After Henri lost his eye, he gave up on ever falling in love again. All jokes aside, in all honesty, what woman would want a man who wore an eyepatch due to his missing eye? But he was okay with it because he already was fortunate enough to experience romantic love once with you. You and he would always have those winter and spring months, those nights in the hotel room. No woman on earth could ever take your place in his heart. And nothing and nobody had the power to take those memories away from either of you. Even after you ended things, he was so grateful to you for continuing to love him platonically.

He reminded you of your time spent together in the hotel room all those years ago, what he said to you about love and what he saw in your future. He still believed his words to be true and made you promise him that you’d at least try to find love, real love, with another man. You had your entire life ahead of you and still had time to move on. When the opportunity finally presented itself, he wanted you to take that chance to leave Frederick and find a man who would treat you as you deserved to be treated. Maybe it wouldn’t come tomorrow, and maybe not next week, but he hoped it would come for you soon. Though you weren’t right for each other, he still believed there was someone out there that would be right for you. Frederick’s beating of him hadn’t changed that. If anything, it only reinforced his beliefs. And even if he was wrong and you never found romantic love, even if the both of you lived out the rest of your lives single and unattached, it didn’t mean either of you would be alone. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. Love presented itself in many different forms. It could be found in friends, found family, a pet…but the most important love of all was the love you held for yourself.

Frederick tried to rip that love out of you in his endeavors to break you down and mold you into the wife and woman he wanted you to be, but he failed. You thought you lost your ability to love yourself, but you found it in 1914 and brought it out when you met Louis. It was greatly damaged and weakened, but it wasn’t dead. It was still there, nestled deep inside of you somewhere. It went into hiding again in 1917 when you were forced to quit your job, but it was still there, just waiting to be let out again. You could feel it. It was tucked away somewhere safe, somewhere Frederick could never reach it. He could very well try again, but he couldn’t kill it. And that which couldn’t be killed could only be made stronger.

One of the last things Henri said to you before you returned to the mansion you considered your gilded cage really resonated with you. His words inspired you, gave you strength:

“Make dread dead, not buried but in an open casket, for we need to be realistic in order to both grieve and make good choices about our next step. Dread is a fear flag, it’ll give you a chance to reflect upon the opportunity arriving and find real reasons to be at peace with whatever change comes to you.”

I’d always hoped Frederick would give me a divorce, that he’d never miss me as long as I left him with his money. For a time, he led me to believe that he was open to the idea. Only to pull the rug out from under me and tell me he changed his mind instead. He wouldn’t give me a divorce. Not ever.

While you were in the middle of helping a patient, one of your fellow nurses fetched you to tell you that you had a phone call. She said that it sounded important, so it was best not to keep him waiting. She took over for you and stepped in to help the patient you were with while you picked up the phone. Although he obviously couldn’t say who he really was, you knew it was your husband calling as soon as the other nurse said “him.” It couldn’t have been anyone else. His call was unexpected. He never once called or wrote you before. You enjoyed nearly three years of no correspondence from him, so why did he call you now? What did he want?

“Hello, Frederick. You're calling very early. What time is it in California? Heh. Frederick, you shouldn't have nightmares. Wrong? Of course not. Oh, but that isn't true. There is something, not wrong, but... Well, I had intended to write to you about it. I hardly know how to tell you. Something quite overwhelming has happened—”

Frederick interrupted you, not caring to listen to whatever you had to say. What he had to say was much more important. He wanted you to give notice and come back to him. When you dared to ask him why, the reason he gave was that he tried living on his own but didn’t like it, so he wanted you to resume your duties as his wife and mistress of the mansion at once.

“And what about my work? What you’re asking is impossible, Frederick.”

“What work? Bringing hot drinks to a lot of randy officers? I’ve already notified the hospital and am sending a driver to pick you up and take you to the airport. You will come home at once.”

The line clicked.

“Lannington. Lannington? Lannington?”

He had hung up without letting you get another word in. Of course he did. He always had to have the last word.

Having no choice, you made plans to return to your husband’s mansion. You wrote as soon as possible, informing the staff that, since you were coming home to take up your duties again, neither a nurse nor a secretary would be necessary. As Frederick’s wife and mistress of the house, as well as a fully trained auxiliary nurse, It would seem redundant to keep on other women and pay them to do your job. You wrote that they were dismissed, effective immediately. You expected their bags to be packed and for them to be gone by the time you arrived. You knew there were others before them, just in-and-outers, but these women lasted a whole month. They must’ve been Frederick’s favorites. If your husband wanted you to act as a wife, then so be it. You’d comply with his wishes. And you wouldn’t care how frustrated and angry it made him.

“Hello, William… Yes, William, it’s me.”

Your butler had been staring at you in silent awe, as if he couldn’t believe it was you. You were a completely different woman from the one he knew. You changed. For the better, it seemed.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Lannington.”

“Thank you.”

“Your husband is waiting upstairs in his room.”

“Yes. Well then, we’d better not stand here gabbing. When he waits, he gets mad, and when he gets mad, that means rush the smelling salts. He has ears like a cat, and he heard that bell as sure as preaching. I’d better hurry right in.” You walked into the bedroom. Your husband was sitting in an armchair by the window, waiting for you like William said he was. You walked over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Well, Frederick. Hello. Frederick, you're looking wonderfully well. Hilda told me you'd been ill, but—”

“Hilda knows nothing about me. Step over there where I can see you. Turn around. Walk up and down. It's worse than I was led to suppose. Much worse.”

“If you'd like me to go...”

“Don't go. I have things to say to you. Sit down. I’m aware that you dismissed the last nurse and secretary without any input from me. They both left this morning before you arrived, as you ordered.”

“Well, darling, your past nurses all told me that you’re fit as a fiddle. You have a heart. You deny it, but you have one. But at your age, who wouldn’t have? It’s nothing serious. Ought to last you for years if you don’t get excited. It sounded to me that a nurse hadn’t ever been necessary, and that you mostly used them to fetch and carry. And now that I’ve come home to take up my duties as a wife again, I didn’t see the point in keeping either a nurse or a secretary since I’m more than capable of fulfilling both roles. You personally saw to that, darling.”

Frederick said nothing, but you could tell he was seething. You were right, of course. He practically forced you into marriage. He forced you to attend countless etiquette lessons. He forced you to attend nursing school. Through his mandatory teachings, he equipped you with a unique set of skills. Then he forced you to quit your job and come back home. Why wouldn’t you fire his nurse and secretary? You were a dog that learned to bite back. And it was his doing. You were right. And he hated it.

“Be that as it may, I've become used to having a room occupied on the same floor with me and, in view of my heart, I agree it is a wise precaution. You will occupy the master bedroom with me from now on. I had William move down all your things yesterday. Your furniture, books, and everything.”

“But, Frederick... You had no right to move my things.”

“No right in my own house to move what I see fit? I'm not surprised you blush. I was in the room when William took the books from the shelves, and let me say that what we found hidden there was a very great shock to me.” He pulled out an all too familiar box and began reading from one of the first letters Louis ever wrote to you, his voice laced with thinly veiled disgust at what he thought was excessive and unnecessary schmaltz. His face was ablaze with annoyance and contempt.

…Sweetheart, I love you. There. I said it. And if you meet me tomorrow, I’ll say it again. And again. And keep on saying it till we’re old and gray. So, as soon as the war is over, let’s do it. Once everything is settled, let’s get out of Europe and go someplace far away, where war can never again touch us. I know it’s risky, but so’s staying here. The last few months have been hard, but they’re always a little easier when you’re there. As soon as I write you again to give you some sort of signal or sign, leave your boat and meet me at the hill overlooking the old bridge. Bring whatever you can carry. We’ll make do without the rest. Don’t be late.

Louis xxx

“Do these words sound familiar? They should since they’re love letters addressed to you. From another man. Don’t waste your breath trying to explain yourself, my dear. And don’t insult my intelligence by trying to deny it either. I’ve seen you for what you are. I should throw you out, as is my right as a husband with a pretty little cheat for a wife.” Frederick scoffed, “Amazing creature. To have deceived me so.”

“Don't talk like that. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Why not, my pretty cheat? I'll talk as I please. I've been thinking about this miserable business all night. You’re insane and you must be humored. We must be reasonable and we must be realistic. I gave you a great deal.”

“I know,” you lied through gritted teeth.

“I wonder if you do.” Frederick inhaled deeply. “You're lucky it was only me and William that saw the letters. Be grateful that I don’t burn them in the fireplace or rip them to pieces. I still could change my mind about that. I have it in me, wife, to remove this impertinence.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Then don’t provoke me. I’ll only ask you once. Who is he?”

“Very well. I didn’t want to tell you this way, but you’ve forced my hand. If you must know, he’s someone I've known for nearly two years. Someone I love very much. I can't help it. How else could I say it? However I'd say it, it would be wrong. You must think I've messed this up terribly. But I’m not sorry. You want me to feel ashamed and humiliated for what I feel, for what I’ve done, but I don’t. I’m glad to have finally told you. Do you hear me? I’m glad. You dare to call me a cheat?” You scoffed. “You're one to talk. What have you given me? Love? Affection? Care? The only thing you've given me is an empty house and a marriage that leaves me thinking everyday how much I'd like to slit my wrists!” You snarled.

“Oh, darling, even before we were married, I’ve treated you like a princess! I’ve given you everything! It’s you. You’re nothing but an ungrateful little-little- You’re a little witch! When I think of-of-of all the years that I’ve worked to give you the life you have so you would never know what it is to live without the latest luxury, and this is the thanks that I get? You’re spoiled. Not just because you’re behaving like an ungrateful brat, but because you’re damaged goods. Were there others in between Captain Freycinet and this Louis? Or aren't you the kind that tells?”

“Oh, you mustn't think too harshly of my lovers. They were very kind and understanding when I came to the hospital after a hard day at home.”

“Wife!”

“Well, what did you expect? Do you think I ever would've looked at another man if I'd received one grain of affection from you? You wouldn't allow a dog in the house. Of course, you didn't need one with me around. I was petted, admired, but never loved. After nearly ten years of marriage, you still think my love can be bought with fur coats and diamonds. At least Captain Renault—”

“So that's his name? Renault?”

Your spine stiffened as you realized your mistake. In the heat of the moment, you let your mouth run away with you and gave Frederick a name to go off of. Without a doubt he'd be like a bloodhound with a scent until he found out exactly who Louis was. And when he did…you feared he’d murder him and cover it up, make it look like an accident or suicide. Or even worse, that he’d make Louis disappear altogether, erase him from history as if he never even existed. An unperson. Before you were married, you’d never figured Frederick to be the jealous or violent type. Until that horrible display in the wine cellar… You were all too aware of what Frederick was capable of when in a jealous rage. You made the mistake of underestimating him once, but you never did it again. Any retort died on your lips as you listened to Frederick’s cold and calculated voice, his tone laced with barely concealed anger and jealousy. The mask he had so carefully crafted was once again slipping. But you didn’t retreat. You pressed on.

“What happens in my love life is none of your business!” You hissed to him. “In ten years of marriage, you never cared. Why should you care now? I don't think you do. You just want everyone around you to be miserable.” You were about to end the conversation there and turn your back on him to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“That's where you're wrong. What should happen if you fall with child? By law that child would legally bear my name. And should that child resemble his or her father? You and I both know all the repercussions that would happen should that child's lineage ever be revealed. You and I both know that those whispers would forever follow that child around no matter where he or she went. There would be nothing you or I could do to protect him or her. Nothing, my pretty little fool. So, if you’ve been sleeping with another man, I have a right to know.”

“You dirty minded fool. I’m sick of listening to your filthy accusations. What about your bed? You want to act all high and mighty by telling me you never took a mistress, but what about your secretaries? What if any of them fell pregnant with your child? What would you do then? Leave me for one of them? Convince her husband to let his wife leave him for you? Why don’t you call on Margo? She’s available, you know. Jeff Cameron is a broke and poor psychiatrist, and Margo probably would leave him in a heartbeat for you and all your wealth! She warmed your bed for weeks while I was in training. Did you think I’d never find out about that? What makes you so much different than me? Maybe I want my bed warmed and maybe I want anyone but you warming it!”

“My dear, I've a dreadful headache for this sort of thing and—”

“I'm sorry, but I have a headache too, and I think mine precedes yours by quite a few years.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether you answer me one way or the other. Your bags are packed. If you want him, you can have him. After all, why shouldn't you have a husband? You have him, my dear. Hmm. Have a dozen of them. Sooner or later you'll come back to me. You'll realize that nothing matters but money. Everything passes but money. And me. Only first, you should know what you'll be getting yourselves into. There may come a day when it’s too late to repent and I won’t be there to save you from ruin. You can leave to be with him, that's true. Up to a point. I have an early flight to catch tomorrow, so I better pack my bag. We’ll discuss…this…further upon my return.”

During this period you couldn’t write to Louis at all because Frederick was watching you like a hawk. It was a mercy that he let you keep Louis’ letters and didn’t make you watch as he burned them all in the fireplace. Even when Frederick wasn’t physically there, he still had eyes and ears all over the mansion. While he was out doing God knows what with God knows who, he had the servants act as spies, watching your every move, listening in on your every word. Even if it appeared as if you were alone in a room, you could never be sure that there wasn’t an indoor servant lingering behind a door or an outdoor servant peering in at you from a window. Any behavior regarded as strange or unusual would be reported back to him and used against you, so you had to be discreet. Very discreet. You couldn’t trust anyone. Not even your personal maids. The periodic phone calls you received from Frederick didn’t help matters either. You had no choice but to answer them. Missing a call or failing to return a call within what he thought was a reasonable timeframe only meant trouble for you down the line.

“…I’m being kept a prisoner and you want thanks?!”

“A prisoner?” Frederick laughed, his voice sending chills down your spine as it crackled and distorted over the receiver. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit melodramatic, dear? Silly child, our house isn’t a prison. It’s…a castle, a beautiful castle in the middle of a wooded area that’s like an enchanted forest. There are millions of women who would give their right high teeth to live in a place like we do. Why, you’re surrounded by luxury and just look at the view from any of the balconies. Darling, where are you ever going to find a view again like that?”

“Oh, I don’t care about the view! I’m bored with it! Sure, it’s pretty, but after a while it all seems the same. It’s boring and I’m bored being here all by myself, cooped up surrounded by servants but no one to talk to, no one to share with!”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you worry. Don’t you worry. I’ll be home soon and I’ll keep you company every day until I have to leave again. Every day.”

“But I want a friend.”

“Your own husband isn’t good enough for you anymore?”

“It’s not that. It’s just that I want someone new and exciting to come into my life.”

“And take you away from me like those Frenchmen almost did? Never! No, it’s out of the question!”

“But Frederick—”

“No, no, no! You’ve fooled me once, you’ve fooled me twice, but I will not let you do this to me a third time!”

You knew you would have to wait for an opportune day when everyone was out of the house except for you, when all the servants were off while Frederick was on a business trip or otherwise gone. You couldn’t just dismiss them all for the day outright. That would look too suspicious. So you came up with a plan that would ensure the servants were kept silent and distracted. You gathered them all in the foyer and told them that you wanted to host a surprise party for your husband to welcome him home when he returned from his business trip overseas. With everyone sent out on errands for a big and important event, you were finally able to have a moment alone. You made just one phone call.

“Mrs. Lannington, this just came by air express from New York.”

“Thank you.”

“The seamstress is here about the dress. Do you want her in?”

“In a little while.”

“Yes, madame. I'll get another blanket and bring your clothes up as soon as I get a chance.”

“No, thank you. You needn't bother.”

“Yes, madame.”

Frederick returned from his business trip in America much earlier than originally anticipated, but all of the servants and party guests knew that he would. You were ready for him. As his wife and mistress of his great house, he always told you that you needed to learn to expect the unexpected. No matter how late it was in the evening, he still expected you to greet him when he came in. But you purposely weren’t there to greet him that night.

“Quiet, everybody. Here he comes now.”

“Surprise!” The crowd shouted simultaneously in a cacophonous uproar of excitement.

“Who thought up this torture?”

A woman took him by the arm to lead him through the crowd. “Oh, Frederick, dear, you are surprised, aren't you?”

“Horribly.”

“You see, your wife did remember you would be coming home today, so she wanted to throw you this welcome home party.”

“A party indeed.” He went around shaking the hands of the guests and giving them a well-practiced smile. “Madame. How do you do? Thank you. I'm delighted to see you, sir.” But after exchanging pleasantries and idle chitchat just long enough to not seem rude, he asked, “If you’d be so kind as to tell me where I can find my wife?”

Frederick didn’t bother to knock as he opened the door to the guest bedroom. You were powdering your face and putting in your earrings, but you saw him through the mirror’s reflection as he stood in the open doorway. “This is quite the welcome home party. Well, I hope I'm welcome, my dear. You look as if you were seeing a ghost.”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“Quickly? I have the impression I'm too late. That object on my dining room table, I presume, is a cake. Champagne, all very fitting. I infer a lover. Make me acquainted with him.”

“He’s not here. It’s just a small gathering of our friends. After all, we don’t want a repeat of what happened at the last party we hosted, now do we, darling?”

Your small gathering of friends turned out to be a full house with well over a hundred people. And, since you were in charge of the invitations the second time around, it had an even larger turnout than the last party you hosted when you were newlyweds. You knew that, and he knew that too. Whatever game you were playing at, Frederick wasn’t amused.

“What are you doing in this room?”

“I'm going to sleep here.”

“Didn't you understand I wished someone to sleep on the same floor with me?”

“We can get one of the maids, Frederick, or perhaps we can get a dog.”

“‘We’? So long as I pay the bills, I'm running this house. Please remember you're a guest, my dear.”

“Well, if I am one, then please treat me like one, Frederick. Your guest prefers to sleep in this room, if you don't mind.”

“This is no time for humor. As it so happens, I do mind.” He gestured to a case of camellias on a side table. “Where did these flowers come from?”

You turned to him and spoke with the false spontaneity of a liar. “From Switzerland.”

“Who sent them?”

“I've forgotten the name of the florist. I think it's on the box.”

“I've seen it. I had the box brought to me. You know perfectly well what I mean. What person sent the flowers?”

“There wasn't any card.”

“In other words, you don't intend to tell me.”

“Frederick, I don't want to be disagreeable or unkind. I've come home to live with you again, here in the same house. But it can't be in the same way. I've been living my own life, making my own decisions for a long while now. It's impossible to go back to being treated like a child again. I don't think I'll do anything of importance that will displease you, but, dear, from now on you must give me complete freedom, including deciding what I wear, where I sleep, what I read...”

“Where did you get that dress?“

You were dressed for the occasion. You had changed into a dress that was very Italian, very chic, and exceedingly becoming. And not handpicked by your husband.

“I had it shipped in from New York today.”

You customized your dress with the camellias sent by your not so secret admirer, wearing them proudly close to your heart. When your monstrous husband clapped eyes on your new look, he was horrified. Desperate to re-assert his authority and to prevent his now glamorous wife from stealing the limelight, he told you to put on one of your old frocks for the party. After all, this party was for him, wasn’t it? If he was the guest of honor, shouldn’t his opinion have been taken into consideration?

“It's outrageous. Where's the dress I bought for you from Nassau?”

“I gave it away to Suzanne, the niece of a French stockholder. She was so grateful. Frederick, please be fair and meet me halfway.”

“On my first day home after such a long absence, and you behave like this. How much did that dress cost?”

“It was frightfully expensive. I'll tell you about it in the morning.”

“To whom did you charge it?”

“To whom I've always charged my clothes, Frederick.”

“And you expect me to pay for articles charged to me of which I do not approve?”

“Well, I could pay for it myself. I've saved quite a little money. I have about $5000.”

“$5000 won't last very long. Especially if your monthly allowance were to be discontinued. I'm sure you've always had everything in the world you want.”

“I haven't had independence.”

“That's it. That's what I want to talk about. Independence. To buy what you choose, wear what you choose, sleep where you choose. Independence. That's what you mean by it, isn't it? I make the decisions here, my dear. I'm willing you should occupy your old room. One of the maids will occupy the guest room next to the master bedroom for the time being and will perform a wife’s duties as well as a nurse's if you will not. That will give you a good chance to think over what I've said. I'm very glad to give a devoted wife a home under my roof and pay all her expenses, but not if she scorns my authority.”

“Well, I could earn my own living, Frederick. I've often thought about it. I could resume my job as a nurse and work in the hospital again or—”

“You may think that very funny. But I guess you'll be laughing out of the other side of your face if I did carry out my suggestion.”

“I don't think I would. I'm not afraid, Frederick.” As soon as you said it, it finally dawned on you. “I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid, Frederick.”

“Wife, sit down. I find all this very distasteful. Your dress isn’t what I wanted to discuss with you at all.”

“All right, I'll listen quietly. What do you wanna discuss with me?”

“I want you to know something I've never told you before. It's about my will. You'll be the most powerful and wealthy member of the Lannington family, if I don't change my mind. I advise you to think it over.”

As Frederick kept speaking, you understood the implications of his words, his thinly veiled threats of blackmail. You could leave and be with Louis, that was true. But he refused a divorce so you’d never be able to marry Louis so long as he lived. And if you left, he’d not only write you out of his will, he’d use his connections to expose Louis’ secrets regarding Stevenson’s death and the true parentage of the boy he publicly recognized as his to every newspaper across both America and Europe. It didn’t matter if any of it was true or not. It was the word of a millionaire with all the influence in the world against the word of a poor soldier. And money had such a persuasive way of talking. Every newspaper and tabloid, no matter how trashy, would pick up such a story, and bored housewives would be more than eager to spread such hot gossip in their circles, desperate for a break from their monotonous lives even if it meant living vicariously through the lives of others. Word would get around to men’s clubs and more, and It wouldn’t take long to destroy Louis’ future, as well as that of the boy. Of course, he’d keep silent if you would. He’d give you his word, only if you’d give him yours in return. Realizing that you had been tricked, you were fuming and seething. Your husband had you right where he wanted you, and you could do nothing about it. And he knew that.

“Tonight, when you came back, you told me I could go away with him. To get my hopes up. You had all this planned out from the beginning. Oh, you swine!”

“That is a very coarse expression coming from so smartly dressed a young woman. I'm referring to that handsome coat hanging neglected in your wardrobe.”

“Take it back then, you...” You took it off the hanger and threw it at him, but he was unfazed as it hit him. Your eyes were alight with indignation and hatred.

“I seem to remember the dress too! But restrain yourself, my dear. A servant might come in.”

“I never loved you. I tell you, I never loved you!”

“Of that there was never any question, my dear. But I can assure you, you’ve had many very good reasons for being grateful. So you're conceding to my terms. Well, I think that's wise. A scandal can be quite damaging to a career…and to a personal life.”

“You don't think that's why I'm agreeing.”

“The point's irrelevant. I can only hope that this shameful episode in your life is completely past. We best go down to your guests, Mrs. Lannington. You can have your fun tonight, enjoy your little party, but I’ve just decided I’ll be leaving for America on an impromptu business trip next week. It’s a good thing your bags are already packed, because I’ve also just decided you’re coming with me.” He wasn’t asking you. He was telling you. Before you could turn and storm away, Frederick reached out and grabbed your wrist in a tight grasp. A warning. “You know, darling, I'm very fond of you. And I might never have taken this step at all, if I hadn't discovered that… Well, after all, darling, a penniless French officer? I thought you had learned your lesson the first time a Frenchman came to this house uninvited. But it appears not. While I’m disappointed, I can’t say I’m surprised. First Captain Freycinet, and now this Captain Renault. You seem to have developed an…acquired taste for poor Frenchmen in uniform. You and your little two-timing heart. I can forgive you having an affair, but I can’t forgive you having such low standards in the men you take to your bed. Your taste in men, aside from me, is abysmal. Of course your being married to me made no difference to them. It never has.”

“Frederick, please do try to be fair.”

“Fair? Was it fair giving yourself to men like that?”

“That isn’t true. I was with Henri before I was with you, and he didn’t know I was married when he came to the house that night. Louis didn’t know either. He still doesn’t know.”

“You’d say that. You’d say anything to protect him.”

“Please don’t talk like that! Don’t you see it’s something none of us could help? He doesn’t know. He asked me to marry him—”

“He’d say anything to get his way.”

“You’re wrong. You’ve got to believe me!”

“Oh, I don’t blame you. I know that you were sincere. But Renault!”

“Frederick, Frederick! If you harm him, if anything happens to him, I shouldn’t care to live. I wouldn’t live. If you do anything to hurt him, anything at all, I will kill myself. I will turn my death into a grand public spectacle for the world to see. And then you’ll have a scandal worthy of your name.”

You wouldn’t let history repeat itself. You wouldn’t let Frederick lay a hand on Louis the same way he did Henri. If he so much as touched a hair on Louis’ head, you would follow through with your threat. Your suicide would get splashed on the front page of every major newspaper all across America and Europe, ensuring you’d have one last laugh over your husband from beyond the grave. His name would get dragged through the mud and he would be ruined into obscurity. His power over you hinged on his carefully constructed reputation, his public persona. His social influence was determined based not just on his money, but on what the public thought of him too. If you killed yourself in such a grandiose manner, you’d destroy everything he had painstakingly built over his lifetime within mere seconds, whether or not you left a note. Especially if you left a note. He’d lose everything. He’d have nothing. You’d ruin his life and reputation even in death. As Frederick stared into your eyes, there was a fire in them that he thought he distinguished years ago. He could tell you weren’t bluffing. He had no choice but to back down.

That year when your wife passed, I was thinking of going to the funeral. Frederick said he’d rather see me dead than hanging around Louis Renault again. Something about that woke something up inside of me. Because when we went our separate ways, it was fine because it was us, but who was he to keep us apart? So that night, I fought back.

You stood up for yourself and defied Frederick by knocking your party guests dead with your new look. As you went around the room and socialized, you grabbed some hors d'oeuvres from passing servers and didn’t care if it looked unladylike as you stuffed your face and asked William to replenish your depleted champagne glass whenever it was getting low. You were in a mood of determined gaiety as you watched and even joined in the merriment.

Then came the big finale a few hours later. Drawn in light upon the starry-black of night, fireworks interrupted the black, spreading pops of color as if the sky were a canvas awaiting ink of brilliant light. Right next to Heaven's stars were those blossoms of rainbow light. With the party guests once more enraptured, their eyes half closed against the minute points of dazzling reflections and accepted only by the kaleidoscopic shuttling of prismatic color, nobody paid attention to their hosts of the evening as they stayed behind. Partially obscured by the crowd, you appeared from the darkness, backing towards one of the white pillars of the terrace so that your face remained hidden as you stood next to your husband.

“Well, if we do have to leave, at least we gave a memorable farewell party,” Frederick said in a hushed tone, sipping from his champagne flute.

“I gave a memorable farewell party for you. I've instructed the maids to pack up all your things. Your essential things, at least, with enough money to get you on a boat back to America and out of my life.” Your voice matched his in volume, but your tone was firm. Final. Uncompromising.

“I thought I told you that we were leaving together.”

“No. You are leaving. Alone. And it’s clear to me that you don’t care about me at all, so I’m sending you away with your favorite person. Yourself.”

“This entire mess was as much your fault as was mine. If not more.” He raised his voice, now laced with agitation, but only slightly. Still nobody but you could hear him.

“Do you honestly expect anyone to believe that such a confident, well-spoken man needed a woman to help him manage his estate? A woman who’s a victim herself, having been a loving wife while her husband couldn’t keep his affairs in order and was embroiled in chronic infidelity that took place in her own house, in her own bedroom. There’s a record of it, husband. From now on, I’ll be the sole beneficiary and take full ownership of whatever’s left of my inheritance, as well as a fair share of your money to support myself. And I had Velma forge a signature on a document stating that since neither you nor I have any male next of kin, the estate shall pass to whomever I deem your successor, should I outlive you. Velma has excellent penmanship, you see. Your society, of course, will be infuriated to discover that you have abandoned me, your wife of many years, to run away to America with your money and your mistress.”

“You viper!”

“Never touch me again. You’re welcome to try to explain it to them, now that they're all gathered... And you’re not leaving any worse off than when you arrived. With nothing. Nothing but your cold hard cash, just as incapable of loving you as I am.”

“You’re making a terrible mistake.”

“I made my mistake years ago, when I married you.”

He chased me out of the house and into the woods. He was the one who brought the knife. It’s funny, Frederick’s the one that made me go to nursing school. That’s why I knew where his femoral artery was. Not sure if I hit it, but I left him out there. His body was never found. Maybe he crawled somewhere for help, maybe he died in those woods and was eaten by wild animals. You say you killed your family? I hope I killed mine. I hope you don’t hate me for what I did. I hope you can forgive me. I’m sorry I kept this from you for so many years after the fact, but I only just learned to come to terms with it and forgive myself.

Eternally yours xxxxxxx

It wasn't anything like what Louis expected. The farther down he read, the more his face showed his heart breaking for you, until it got to the point where it was excruciating to have to witness your suffering through your own words. What he experienced while reading your letter felt like a thousand tiny paper cuts in comparison to the living hell you endured. He couldn’t even begin to imagine it. You, locked in an ivory tower, subjected to daily cruelty which included punishment by scourges and flaying, the scourges being your husband’s tongue and the flaying being done by his hand. And then to have to go through it twice! You experienced it firsthand once and relived it again, all so you could relay your story to him through writing. By the time he reached the bottom of the page, his grief was joined by something else. Though he was shocked at your confession of killing a man, your own husband, he understood the position you were in and why you referred to it as “the very bad thing” in your previous letters. You were a victim of years of marital abuse and, though it wasn’t physical, it left scars all the same. Scars that took years to heal. And though those scars didn’t hurt you anymore when you thought of your husband, they were still there. They always would be. He thought back to when he received that phone call from you out of the blue years ago. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what you were saying or what your call meant. Everything about your voice felt…off. There was no better way to describe it.

“Hello? Yes?”

“Hello? Hello, Louis.”

“Darling! Oh, thank God. You’re alive. I’ve been so worried, your letters stopped coming and the hospital either couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me anything about you or your whereabouts and I thought— It’s been so long since I last heard from you. How did you get my number? Is there anything wrong?”

“I know. I’m sorry. The short of it is, I was forced to quit nursing. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I can’t explain any of it now, but I promise I will. Someday. I know I can’t see you, but I just had to hear your voice. Oh, Louis. My sweet, darling Louis. I just wanted to hear you speak to me. I wish you could come to see me. I'm so lonesome here.”

“Sweetheart? Your voice sounds strange. Are you hurt? If you’re in any danger or difficulties, I cou—”

“No! No. No, I’m— Well, I’m not okay, but I’ll manage just fine on my own for now. We made our pact, and I still want us to live up to it. Darling, tell me now, have we lost our chance? Have you moved on and found someone else?”

“No, never.”

“You're not angry with me?”

“No. Only with myself. I was a cad to make you care for me and then, because of some noble sense of duty, to leave you to get over it the best you can. And there isn't a thing I can do about it. Madeleine still depends on me more and more. She's ill and getting worse. And there's Johnny. Even if I could chuck everything—”

“But I wouldn't let you, Louis. Louis, what's the feminine for your word? That's what I am. I knew you were married, and I walked right in with my eyes wide open. But you said it would make you happier.”

“And it has. I've found love again, and it's due to you.”

“I've been hoping you'd say that.”

“I have more understanding for Johnny. I'm even kinder to Madeleine. So don't blame yourself.”

“Then don't you.”

“It's different.”

“It's not. Shall I tell you what you've given me? On that very first day, a little bottle of perfume made me feel important. You were my first friend. And then when you fell in love with me, I was so proud. And when I came home, I needed something to make me feel proud. And your camellias arrived, and I knew you were thinking about me. I could've walked into a den of lions. As a matter of fact, I did, and the lions didn't hurt me. Please take back what you said.”

“If you can marry me and we can have a full and happy life someday, I will.”

“I'll try.”

After reading your letter, suddenly your past behavior made sense. Your reluctance to accept his proposal, wanting to wait until the war was over before you gave him an answer…your disappearance and cryptic letters… You must’ve been so afraid. You probably lived day in and day out in fear that your past would catch up with you and you’d be booked for the murder. You could’ve told him that you were widowed. You could’ve gone your whole life without ever telling him what transpired on the night of your husband’s death. You could’ve gone your entire life telling him you were unmarried and never mentioned Frederick at all. Whatever your story was, he wouldn’t have pried any further than what you told him. He didn’t need details about what happened or how Frederick died. You told him the truth about what happened that night because you trusted him with your deepest and darkest secret. You didn’t need to ask for his forgiveness for keeping this from him for so many years. There was nothing to forgive. It was your secret, and it was up to you to decide if you wanted to tell it or carry it to the grave. Just to be safe, he burned your incriminating letter in the fireplace. It would be kept between just the two of you. Nobody else would ever know. Not even Johnny or any other future family members.

Though reading your letters kept him sane and helped him to cope with his trauma and snap him out of his self-inflicted spiral of self-torture and rumination, he regretfully told you that he couldn’t be with you until his son came of age. He felt he had a duty to John that he needed to fulfill. He needed to focus on giving Johnny the best future he possibly could. Before Louis could allow himself to remarry, he needed to raise Johnny to be someone John would be proud of, a better man than even himself. He couldn’t explain his reasonings beyond that. He knew if you stood in front of him at the courthouse and married him now, he’d never be able to keep his hands off you. If he had the future with you that he wanted, he was certain you’d conceive a child before your first anniversary. As much as he wanted a child with you, he just wasn’t ready.

He knew that if you became pregnant, he’d be unable to love you and your child in the way that you both deserved to be loved. He wouldn’t be able to devote himself to either of you wholeheartedly, because he still felt like half of him died when John and Madeleine did. He made a promise to John, to Madeleine, to himself, and to Johnny. He needed to see it through. He couldn’t even think of romance or marriage until then. He wrote to you and reiterated that, while he wasn’t choosing to do this as a form of punishing either you or himself, he didn’t blame you if you couldn’t understand him or his reasons for purposely keeping himself away from you. He didn’t blame you if you didn’t want to wait for him. A long distance relationship was too much for most people to bear. He knew he was asking a lot from you by asking you to wait until Johnny was at least eighteen years old.

He was open and honest with you. He told you in no uncertain terms that, while he wouldn’t commit himself to or love any other woman apart from you, it was highly likely that he’d sleep around from time to time. He couldn’t survive on oxygen alone. He had to be surrounded by women. Although he’d sleep with them, he promised you that he wouldn’t lead them on. He’d take every precaution to ensure he didn’t father a bastard child with any of them. None of the women he’d take to his bed could ever hope to hold a candle to you. They’d be a means to an end, a distraction, a way for him to cope with his trauma, survivor’s guilt, and loneliness. He acknowledged that it may seem ironic and hypocritical of him, given how much his wife’s infidelity hurt him in the past. But he told you that, while Madeleine kept John like a dirty little secret, he wouldn’t do the same to you. He wouldn’t keep any secrets from you, no matter how long you were apart.

If you wanted to take other men as lovers, you were more than welcome to. Louis knew that, like himself, you couldn’t live on oxygen alone. You had to be surrounded by men. You could sleep with whoever you wanted and didn’t need his permission. He told you that, since you were so beautiful and so witty, all you’d have to do was just sit, and they’d come to you. You could have a line of lovers in zero time flat. Besides, he thought you’d handle them very well. He joked that it’d save him the trouble of sending flowers and candy. Louis was so open to it that he playfully encouraged you to write to him and tell him of your dates and outings, all your little erotic escapades. In return, he promised that he’d tell you about his. For you and Louis, your little dalliances with other people wouldn’t mean anything and you’d both make sure all the intimate partners you had knew that.

But he added that he’d understand if this was something you weren’t comfortable with and couldn’t agree to. He didn’t want to make you feel as if you were held to some obligation to him. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel as if you were wasting your life away by waiting around for him. You were still young, you could marry any man of your choosing. If you wanted to move on and find another man to spend the rest of your life with, he’d respect your decision. He didn’t want to be selfish and rob you of the chance to get pregnant and have children of your own if that was what you wanted. He wanted you to be happy, even if you found that happiness with another man. It’d hurt for a good long while and, although it’d never leave him completely, the pain would eventually numb until it became bearable. Not pleasant, but bearable. While he wouldn’t find another love after you, he’d want you to find love again even if it couldn’t be with him.

5 June 1924

…Bereavement, grief, comes in waves. Though it ebbs over time it sometimes still feels as if my soul needs to bleed an ocean through my eyes. Eyes that never blink, only watch the world continue in this numbing sense of sorrow. Sometimes when I think Madeleine and John have settled into my memories for another year, content to be silent, invisible, they come back, unannounced, to the forefront of my mind. Guilt will do strange things. Lock the truth in a cage and warp love into something strange and awful. Loving him meant I would have traded places in a heartbeat, fought until we either both lived or died. And so, for me, the mourning period didn’t offer me the catharsis I hoped for. Bereavement has been my companion these past few years, a shadow that, in time, has lessened until it’s all but gone. It doesn’t hurt anymore but it’s still there, transformed into something else. Where it once was, holding my hand like a vise, I find the flowers of happy memories with you instead. Where there was pain, so much pain, there’s now a form of joy and pride for whom John and I were and what we achieved together. While France is healing from the war, I’m healing alongside her, darling. I love you.

Louis xxx

12 August 1928

…I believe that when you meet your soulmate, the universe will show you the price of what you wish for. The real deal is never cheap. Those who will pay the price of emotional pain can learn what love is, can feel the blessing of true love. So, I ask you, is our love worth it? I believe it is. But do you? When I first met you, my darling Louis, I saw what was on the table and knew what the cost of your love was. But I didn’t balk or turn away, because I knew then that you were the one for me. While I’ll admit you aren’t the first man I’ve ever loved, I can promise you that you’ll be the last. While it wasn’t love at first sight and I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, there was a moment where I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

Our pathways may come together and separate again for months or, as you say, years. The kind of love we have is something we must pay for with personal struggle. Through no faults of our own, fate has asked us to wait for each other. Those who won't wait for their soulmate or take on any struggle can't have “the one”. But I’m willing and ready to wait for you because, sweet Louis, when we’re finally married, everything that we are will be shared just as it is now. Your struggles will be my struggles, my pain will be your pain, your joys will be my joys, and my happiness will be your happiness. So is it really so different than what we have now? Though I don’t have a ring or a signed piece of paper, in so many ways, I feel as if I’ve been your wife for years already. It comes down to whether or not you love me, and whether or not I love you. That’s it. The rest is just detail. And I do love you. So very, very much. And I know you love me in a way you thought you’d never love again. So we’ll be all right in the end. I’ll send you snaps and enclose them with my letters so you can see what I see, feel what I feel, love what I love. I hope you’ll show me the same courtesy. All my love, sweet Louis.

Patiently yours xxxxx

15 February 1932

It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. I’ll kiss this crisp piece of paper I’m writing on and stain it with my favorite shade of lipstick so I can send you all my love and kisses, darling. The neighbors think I don’t hear them as they whisper and gossip about me. They think I'm a fool to wait and spend my days like I do. Eyes set to the horizon, arms resting on the cold metal rail, sitting alone on a park bench with my nose stuck in a book or my eyes downcast and scribbling away on sheets of paper as I write to you. I do so much more than just fritter away my time pining after you, my dearest. But they don’t see that. The way I see it, they're missing the greatest mysteries of life as they chase the mundane and trip over the minute details of existence. Waiting here gives me time to let my mind escape the boundaries of the ordinary, to think beyond the offerings of modern living. I ponder the threads that bind one person to another and the wounds that separate. I think about the origins of goodness and what humanity really is. Waiting here while others do important things is such a gift, a blessing of time. I would give up an eternity of tedium to simply solve a great mystery. All my love, sweet Louis.

Patiently yours xxxxx

17 July 1936

It's sunny today, around eighty-five degrees. Sky’s blue and clear and beautiful. I took a walk through the botanical garden. Followed the same path Henri and I walked down when we were all young and in love. It made me laugh thinking how nervous he was. His palms were sweating so bad I'd thought he was going to pass out! He was just too cute. Well, I'm sure you're tired of that story by now. I just keep thinking about that walk and what it would be like if you were the one beside me. I'd give anything to go back there, to show you all of my favorite spots. The sun doesn't seem as bright without you today but, when I close my eyes, its warmth makes me feel like you're here with me. Don't worry about a thing. Just think about the big hug I'll be giving you when you and I meet. I love you with every breath, my wonderful Louis.

Patiently yours xxxxx

#captain renault #louis renault #captain Louis renault x reader #Louis renault x reader #captain renault x reader #casablanca #the last outpost #where danger lives #passage to marseille #crossover au #crossover fic #crossover #crossover prompt #fic prompt #pls tag me if you’re inspired by this #I’d love to read it

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midnightsconspiracy · 4 years ago

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Blame

Blame - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Having a baby without telling their father was hard, what was harder was when that baby’s father was Hank Voight

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1900

Requested: Yes!!

‘Hank and the reader had a small fling 2 years ago Hank called it off but what happens when he finds out that the reader son isn’t just hers but his as well.’

A/N: It doesn't really follow the timeline of the requests 2 years, but it's along those lines anyway :):)

Masterlist

Yours and Hank's relationship had seemed perfect at first, well to you anyway. Nothing seemed as though it was out of the ordinary until the man had unexpectedly broken it off.

It had originally started when you had first met him on a case. Originally, you had attended a police scene after his unit had called for a paramedic crew, the sergeant in question having hit the offender a little too hard. Your partner was assigned to look at the perpetrator's wounds, him having come out of that scuffle worst for wear, you on the other hand were sent to look at Voight's beat-up hand. Admittedly, you were a little wary at first, having heard of his tough reputation through the firehouse. But he seemed to be kind to you anyways, and so you ignored those rumours, choosing to decide for yourself instead. And so your relationship grew from there, secretly spending most of your free nights at his place, learning to trust each other implicitly.

As time went on, the two of your learnt to love each other, both scarred from the outcome of previous relationships. Your days were filled with shy smiles from the texts you'd send to each other, and nights with the feeling of one another. Everything had seemed perfect at the time, blissfully unaware of what he was feeling. Yes, he did love you, but the insecurities and comments were eating away at him. Each day he would come into work or go out to his local gentlemen's club and receive judgments on your relationship, about how you were much younger or better looking than him. He took most of the comments to heart despite you telling him otherwise, but who was he going to believe, over 10 of his closest friends and colleagues or his girlfriend? Eventually, he chose his answer, breaking it off before you could object otherwise.

Distraught was the only word that you could use to describe yourself. You were absolutely heartbroken knowing someone you believed loved you threw it all away because of the opinions of others. Not only were you emotionally broken but also physically, feeling like absolute crap, constantly throwing your guts up and in an ever-changing mood. At first, you just blamed it on the stress you were facing, the breakup had been rough and you'd tried your best to change his mind. But it continued on day by day even after you'd accepted what had happened. Confiding in Sylvie about your problems, she seemed worried for you, urging you to go to the doctors for advice. Although you were apprehensive at first, you followed her instructions, seeking Natalie out to check you over.

You played with your hands nervously as you waited for her to come back with the results of the blood tests. At first, you just thought it was the flu, but after each symptom of yours she checked off her list, your mind knew where this was all going. And so as she confirmed what you were thinking, you froze, tears springing to your eyes not knowing what would happen to you or your baby.

That day you had made one of the most important decisions of your life, you would move back home to Virginia and raise the baby with only the help of your family. And so that's what you did, packing your things up into a moving van, putting your apartment for sale and driving to your new home. It was a little challenging at first to adjust to your new life, you missed your friends overwhelmingly having spent nearly every day of the last five years within the walls of that firehouse. But, you knew you had to move on though, probably never going back to Chicago to allow your child a better life. It had crossed your mind once or twice that maybe Hank would want to know about this, be a part of their life, but you just couldn't chance it. He had let you go over the opinions of others so what would stop him from doing similar with this child? You couldn't take that risk though, so as soon as any thought of him would appear, it would disappear soon after.

It was a struggle being a single parent, going through each trimester of your pregnancy alone. Sometimes you wished he would go through the milestones with you, the first sign of a baby bump, the first kick. And you had your family there with you too, but it was never the same as someone you loved. The worst was when you gave birth, all alone, with no one to hold your hand as you experienced the worst pain of your entire life. However, it had led to the best thing, your son, Jackson. Your life had changed overnight, now you not only lived for yourself but also your son.

As he grew up your happiness also increased, loving life just you and your child. Most of the time it was perfect laughing and playing but others you wanted Hank to be there, helping you out with the hard moments. Things with your family worsened as Jackson grew as well, things becoming rocky as they helped you less and less. And so just after you celebrated your sons third birthday, you decided maybe Chicago wasn't so bad. You could reunite with your friends, have some help with Jackson and potentially get your job back at the firehouse. So that's what you did, once again packing your stuff up and moving the both of you into a shared apartment with Sylvie, your rock in all of this.

Your life had suddenly gone back to normal overnight, picking up your career as a paramedic at 51 whilst you got a babysitter from Jackson. The only people that were aware of your presence were those at the firehouse, trying to keep your return in house so as not to raise any unwanted attention. But that had all changed as you and Brett were once again called to a police crime scene. And your prayers weren't answered as you rolled up to one led by intelligence.

As soon as you exited the ambulance you were faced with the entire team with two people needing assistance, the perpetrator and Hank. Sylvie gave you a knowing look as you grabbed the equipment, allowing you to take the bad guy. But as you walked towards the guy, Hank raised his voice, telling Sylvie he wouldn't be treated by her, wanting to talk to you instead. So you both complied, wandering over and grabbing Hank's head to assess his injuries, not wanting to even look him in the eye. You tried to wrap things up as quickly as you could, refusing to talk to him at all.

"You're back," he stated bluntly, needing to know your reasoning behind leaving in the first place. But you wouldn't give him the pleasure, fixing medical tape onto his wound, before packing up your stuff and hightailing it back into the ambulance. Although you were done with him, he definitely wasn't done with you, having heard some interesting rumours about your departure.

Finding out your new address, Hank made it his mission to see you, to explain what he was thinking. Knocking on the door of your apartment, he wished to see your face, having missed you the four years you had been gone. Just after you had moved your life to Virginia, Hank had a revelation, kicking himself for letting go of someone he loved so much. But instead of meeting your beautiful face, he found some random woman, being informed that you no longer lived there. He had been left distraught, leading to months of emotional instability, bottling it up, only to explode with anger and sadness after too long. But now as you opened the door, he smiled, glad that it was actually you this time.

"Why are you here?" You asked, wedging your body between the door and its frame, not wanting him to spot your child who was happily playing inside.

"I wanted to see you, I missed you," he confessed, wary at your suspicious behaviour.

"Missed me? You broke-"

"Mommy?" Being cut off from your angry rant, your eyes widened at the sound of your son, knowing you would have to reveal him to his father. Picking your toddler up, you tried to close the door, hoping to defuse the situation. Unlucky for you, Hank stopped the door from closing, pushing inside of your apartment.

"Mommy huh?" He questioned, confused at how you had a child.

"What's your name buddy?"

"Jackson," your son replied, blissfully unaware of who this man was and what havoc he was causing.

"And how old are you?" The cogs were turning in Hanks mind, could this child be his?

"I just turned three!" The exclamation from the child, confirmed it all, he was this boys father and you hadn't told him. Straightening up he looked you in the eyes, an angry look on his face.

"Hey, buddy why don't you play in your bedroom?" And with that, you brought your son back into his room, closing the door behind you.

"He's mine isn't he?" Hank questioned that eerily quiet voice piercing your ears. Yes, you hadn't told him, but it was to protect you and your son! Not trusting your voice you nodded your head, giving him the confirmation he needed.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" He roared, his anger overflowing, grabbing your arms to get you to look at him.

"It was to protect him, if you could easily get rid of me, what was stopping you from getting rid of him too?" You cried, knowing what you did was wrong.

"And you didn't think I could make that chose myself?" You could see the tears in the man's eyes, his voice crackling as he realised this was as much his fault as it was yours. You had made the choice but he was ultimately to blame. Bringing you into his arms, you both cried, equally regretting your decisions. Looking back up at him, your feeling flooded back, remembering how much you really loved this man. And so at that moment, you decided that Hank should be part of your boy's life, Jackson was as much his as he was yours.

So that evening was spent introducing the pair, watching as they got along like a house on fire. Hank's experience raising a child previously meant he knew how to please a child, allowing them to bond as father and son. Every time he looked at you, your original feelings intensified, understanding why you had originally thought that he would make a great father. In Hanks mind he was feeling overwhelming joy, the last few years had been so tough for him and this, this was all he could ever want. He had loved Justin with all his heart, but since he had died a black void had overtaken his heart. His grandson had briefly filled it, but that had been taken away again as they left as well. Finally, he had something that could fill this hole, a woman he loved infinitely and had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting her go. And a son, that he would hopefully watch grew up day by day, as a nice, happy family.

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Taglist: @mileika @redpoodlern @yosoynicolexo @chazubagi@scarletsoldierrr @cindydoll2 @anotherfan07 @one-sweet-gubler

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#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines

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fatiguing-thoughts · 4 years ago

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“Disagreement” - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Okay this might be stupid but it’s been in my head a really long time & I don’t write so I was wondering if you could do a Paul angst where his imprint is bellas sister & she chooses to stay by her when pregnant while of course they want to kill her? Too much?? 😂”

A/N: I hope you enjoy what I did with this, I tried to make it a little less intense because I still find the situation so weird in breaking dawn ya know? also i’m off my game now that i’m going through a depressive episode once again so i hope what i gave you is at least a little enjoyable haha

“You have to what?” I blink, staring at Paul with wide eyes.

“Sam says-” Paul tries but I cut him off.

“You have to kill my sister, because Sam says?” I yell.

“(Y/N), you know I have to listen, it’s out of my control.”

“Paul, that is my sister. You’re talking about my sister and my niece or nephew. You’re talking about killing my family. How do you think I could be okay with this?” I seethe.

“Baby, I know. But that baby isn’t a baby, it’s a demon.”

“No, we don’t know that. It’s a baby, Paul. I can’t believe you think I’ll be okay with this. As much as I’m not that fond of her, I can’t let you guys kill her.” I hiss.

“I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have a choice. Alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want to or not.” His teary eyes bored into mine.

“Well, then don’t expect me to stay by and watch. I’m leaving, you’re free to come with but I’m not letting you do it.” I push past him, walking to our front door.

“(Y/N), baby, please... You know I have to stay.” He pleads.

“Well then I have to leave. And if you kill my sister and unborn niece or nephew or whatever it’ll be, don’t expect me to come back.” I slam the door shut, stomping my way over to my car. I started it, speeding out of there.

I soon found myself at the Cullen’s home, only to be met with an apprehensive Jacob, Leah, and Seth. Edward and Rosalie peered out the window at me.

“I’m not here to cause any issues. I’m not here for Paul or Sam, I left. We had a disagreement.” I hold my hands up in surrender.

“So are you and Paul okay?” Seth asks, looking at me with sad eyes.

“No, not if he tries to kill my sister and unborn family.” I huff, holding my tears back.

“Well, we’re glad to have you around.” Jacob gives me a soft smile.

I nod and make my way over to Leah, placing my head on her shoulder.

The last few days without her, one of my best friends, was very difficult. I wasn’t told why they left exactly, but after Paul told me Sam’s plan, I was thankful for their support.

“Thank you.” I murmur.

“Couldn’t let Seth go off on his own.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“I know.” I smirk, knowing she hated Bella more than anyone else.

Couldn’t necessarily blame her, though.

“Are you okay?” Seth asks.

“No. But I’ll be fine.” I smile sadly. “Can I see her?”

Jacob looks over to the window, looking at Edward. Edward nods his head, causing Jacob’s gaze to fall back onto me.

“Yeah, come on.” He nods, leading me into the massive house.

I follow Jake, feeling all eyes on me. I then saw Bella sitting on the couch, a blanket covering her.

“Hey.” She weakly smiles.

“Hey, Bella. Long time no see.” I smirk, walking over.

“I know, just... prepare yourself.”

“For what?” I raise an eyebrow.

But then I notice her face, all sunken in and hollow. Dark circles overtook her face, she looked like a walking corpse.

“Rose.” She looks to see the blonde woman, holding out her hand.

Rosalie walks over and helped her stand up. Bella’s state was absolutely astonishing. I couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping my lips when I noticed her seemingly malnourished frame stand up. She was skin and bones, except for her protruding belly, it was bigger than the rest of her.

“Wow.” I exhale, trying to look her in the eye.

“Yeah.” She smiles awkwardly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, I can’t sit back and let something happen to you.” I return her gesture.

The next few days were unbearable. I was watching my sister die in front of my very eyes, adamant on having this child. Her husband torn with the outcomes of this situation, everyone was on edge. Jacob was having such a difficult time watching her die, it was simply a lot.

The tension in the house was unsettling. Everyone was so conflicted with the pregnancy, but ultimately it was Bella’s decision. A decision that none of us would be able to sway. I had a feeling this wouldn’t end well, but I was suffering more and more, as the bond between Paul and I was leaving me in severe pain.

I was ignoring his calls, his texts pleading me to come back to the reservation. My ignoring him didn’t get much done, eventually I just shut my phone off. It was too much, I was in too much pain.

Emotionally, I was falling apart. Being apart from him was not only damaging me emotionally, it was causing me physical pain. I felt like my chest was on fire.

I was growing sicker by the day, suffering without Paul. This bond really complicated already complicated situations.

As I sat on the steps with Leah, Jake, and Seth, they perked up at the sound of rustling in the trees.

“Why are they here?” Leah asks.

“I don’t know.” Seth shrugs.

They all began to stand up, and I followed behind. To my surprise, I saw Jared, Collin, and Brady walking out of the treeline.

Brady looked at me, noticing my exhausted face. He stared a little too much.

“What are you guys here for?” Jake asks.

“Sam sent us. We’re here to give you a final opportunity, a final warning.” Jared says with a stern face.

“We’re not coming back.” Seth says deliberately.

After some less than pleasant conversation, the trio left hastily.

“Weird choice of who to send.” Seth tilted his head.

“I thought it was weird, too. I thought he’d send Paul, Embry, and Quil.” I shrug.

“No, he doesn’t trust they’d stay loyal to him. He knows they’d join us.” Leah purses her lips.

“You’re right.” Jacob agrees.

“Brady was checking in on you, it looked like. Paul might’ve told him to.” Leah says.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Sleeping was difficult, once again. I was seemingly falling apart at the seams. It was breaking my heart that Paul was on Sam’s side. It broke my heart to know that the love of my life was betraying me and my wishes. I understand that he can’t disobey Sam and leave his pack, but Jake, Seth, and Leah left to do what was right.

I was tossing and turning in my bed, but I had heard a bit of rustling outside of my window, followed by voices.

I got up, looking out the window to see Jake, Seth, Leah, and Edward talking to Embry, Quil, and Paul.

I felt my stomach drop as I heard Paul yell at Jake.

“I need to see her! It’s not about Sam anymore.” He hisses.

I heard the rest of them talking, though it was too quiet for me to hear. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the fuming figure standing in front of Jacob. Almost fighting him to get to me.

Until our eyes met. I watched as his face softened and a small smile appeared on his place. He looked at me before looking back to Edward, pushing through everyone to get through into the house.

Everyone watched as he entered the house, looking up at me with a soft smile.

I turned around as I heard hurried footsteps approach the room I was staying in. The door burst open and I saw an exhausted looking Paul, the bags under his eyes matched mine.

“I missed you so much, baby.” Paul whispers, hurrying over to hold my face in my hands.

“Paul... I can’t do this if you’re here to kill my sister.”

“If I was here to kill your sister, do you think I would’ve been let into the house? I’m here for you. I left Sam’s pack. The three of us did, he doesn’t know yet.” He rushes.

I grabbed him, pulling him closer to me. I pressed my lips against his, hungrily. I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. I felt the warmth of his body pressed against my own.

“He won’t do anything with most of the pack leaving. He can’t do it with all of us gone. I know it.” He whispers, pulling me close.

“Good.”

The next few days were easier, though we still worried about an ambush from Sam’s pack.

Bella was growing increasingly ill, but Jacob’s snarky thought found us a solution. She needed to drink blood. It was absolutely nauseating, but it really seemed to help.

Paul’s presence made things easier for me, but it was still gruesome. It was difficult and tensions only rose as the days went past.

Though, Paul was right. Sam’s pack was outnumbered and when they showed up, they realized they weren’t fit to get to Bella and Renesmee. They showed up after Brady’s spying found Bella to have been dead.

But we had proven that the baby was not a threat, after I clutched her in my arms.

They couldn’t do anything to the baby without hurting me. I couldn’t be touched. I was sacred, so thanks fate for saving all of us. Even if I hated my niece’s name.

Thanks fate for Paul. _________________________________ Word Count: 1559

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #sam uley #jared cameron #jacob black #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight x reader

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melodyofmbaku · 4 years ago

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There Will Be No Tears (Chapter 1)

⚠️Warning: I won’t be continuing this series, just placing it here for posterity.🙏🏾 Thanks for understanding.

Prompt: “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: So Much ANGST The boy squirmed slightly as you deftly lifted his sleeping form from his crib and nestled him in your arms. You smiled softly as you stared at the carbon copy of your husband swaddled in your arms. You couldn’t deny it, he was handsome. You placed a soft kiss to his cheek, and whispered sweet words of praise in his ears. You noticed a tear sliding down your cheek and quickly lifted your hand to wipe it away, swallowing deeply and repeating the mantra you had created to comfort you during trying times – there will be no tears. You turned and lifted the large baby bag you had packed earlier in the evening, hoisting it over your shoulder. It was full with supplies that would last a few days as you journeyed outside of your husband’s kingdom to a quiet and unsuspecting location, until you had found a place and settled down. You had decided that you and your son would live away from the palace, and have nothing to do with royalty. You’d live a quiet life, the way you used to before you met him. Maybe settle in the River Tribe, somewhere discreet, where you could find peace. You didn’t want any trouble. You took one last look around your 1 and a half year old son’s room, noticing the large rocking chair T’challa had bought for you the moment you he had discovered you were pregnant. You smiled at the memory – a small smile. The mantra played on repeat in your head. there will be no tears. You hurried out of the room closing the door quietly and began your walk to the west wing of the palace, where you would make your exit. Your eyes took in the architecture of the palace that had been your home for close to 3 years, you would miss it. It was where you had met T’challa. You had loved him, married him, and conceived your beloved son together in the walls of this building. How could you not miss it? Unfortunately, it was also the place that witnessed the breakdown of your marriage, the walls had heard every argument, saw every push, heard every insult, but worst of all it had heard your cries. The cries that had emitted from your lips as you realized that your beloved husband, the king had a lover. A lover who wasn’t you. You remembered the day you found out like it was yesterday, and you probably would for the rest of your life. __ You had woken up in the middle of the night and he wasn’t there. It wasn’t surprising for you to wake up with him gone in the middle of the night, He was king after all. He had a duty to his country and it was a job that did not give him the privilege of getting his 8-10 hours of sleep. Often times he would work through the night. You would always feel him slip back into bed as the sun rose, to kiss your cheeks and pull you close to him once again, returning just in time to spend a few minutes with you as you woke up. If you woke in the middle of the night and missed his presence he could be found in his office, huddled over a stack of papers, with a steaming cup of herbal tea to his side and his glasses on the tip of his nose. Sometimes you would watch him through a crack in the door and go back to bed, your heart content that he was fine. Other times you would give a little knock on the door and let your presence be known. He’d always welcome you in with a smile and pull you into his lap, leaving you with a kiss on your forehead. If you were really adamant, you’d manage to convince him to come back to bed, and he’d oblige. Every now and then you got comfortable in his lap and let him work as you slept for the duration of the night. This time was different. You had left your bed with a peace offering of herbal tea in hopes of resolving the quarrel that had you both going to bed with your backs facing each other. Instead of seeing T’challa huddled over a stack of papers you were met with a sight that would change the course of your relationship and Wakanda forever. You saw your husband, with his back facing you as a woman had her hands planted on his desk and her figure arching into his body. “You are my peace.” He said into the woman’s hair, as his arms rested loosely around her waist and his nose was buried in her hair. It was those words that broke you the most. He littered her neck with kisses as she reached back and ran her fingers through his coarse hair. Your husband’s hair. The whole scene made you sick to your stomach and you couldn’t help yourself as the saucer and teacup that held his favourite herbal tea slid out of your hands and crashed onto the polished marble floors of the palace. You were stunned for a second before you turned your back and walked hastily back to your quarters. “Y/N!” he called frantically. He murmured a few words to the woman in his office, took a few hurried strides across the room and closed the mahogany door of his office quietly. He then started his sprint towards you and grabbed your wrist pulling your body to him. “Y/N…” he said as his voice trailed off. He ran his fingers through the coils that sat atop his head – something he did when he was frustrated. “I’ve been going through a lot, it’s been hard on me you know?” He expected you to say something, but words couldn’t escape your lips. there will be no tears. You had thought that the increasing number of fights you had been having could be resolved by couples therapy, or communication, anything. You were wrong. This moment made you realize that nothing would solve this broken marriage, it was bigger than you. What you did know is that you wouldn’t have your son growing up in a loveless family, with puppets as parents. Finally, your found your voice. It was wobbly, and you didn’t know how he would take it but you tried anyways. “T’Challa?” A beat. “ I think we should… I don’t think we should… I can’t –“ you couldn’t finish your thoughts as he interrupted you. “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” He whispered as the grip on your wrist tightened. His head hung low, and he couldn’t look at you and instead chose to focus his sight on the floor. You took note of the pressure on your wrist, nodded and composed yourself. You pulled your wrist from his grip, smoothing the front of your night dress, and made you way back to your chambers. This time, he didn’t return. But you knew. You couldn’t stay. Your upbringing and dignity wouldn’t allow you to. You wouldn’t be a puppet queen. You couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. __ Weeks had passed since that night and you still operated on auto-pilot. You bathed, burped and played with your son as if nothing was wrong. You went to all your scheduled meetings as the queen, you picked out the linens for the dinners that were to be held in that quarter, you had lunches with T’Challa’s mother, you painted your nails, and braided your hair like you usually would. You spoke to your husband as if nothing was wrong. Replying when he asked you questions that he already knew the answer to just to get you to speak to him. “Y/N? Are we attending the Festival of Harvest this year?” he asked while looking at you expectantly looking for anything – something to indicate your anger. You busied yourself with the laundry you were folding and replied in an even tone “Of course, we attend every year don’t we? Why would this year be any different?” This year would be different. By the time the Festival of Harvest rolled around you and Kweku would have left the palace, never to attend another festival again. Prior to the discovery of his infidelity your interactions had been very different. You were bickering back and forth about almost everything. He would spend a few hours a day playing with his son but ignoring his wife. Often times he’d find you and plop Kweku on your lap and say “He needs his diaper changed, you can return him to me when you’re done.” When you questioned why he couldn’t change his diaper, he’d say “It’s the least you could do Y/N, you’re his mother.” In a condescending tone that you’d never thought would leave the mouth of your husband, your Challa. He would wait for you outside his nursery, and swoop him out of your arms when you exited the room without a word of thanks, and hurry along his way. When you expressed your tiredness while dealing with Kweku, juggling your palace duties, and trying to be a good wife at the same time, he’d simply ask “Y/N, could it be that you’re just not trying hard enough? You must learn to manage it.” T’Challa was never physical with you. Just dismissive, and condescending, and cold. This wasn’t the man you married. Whenever you expressed your concerns about his behavior he’d roll his eyes at you and try to placate you like a child. “If you’d just do what I suggest, you wouldn’t be getting yourself upset over nothing Y/N. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones still swirling about in your system but I’m sure Shuri can help you out if you need it.” With these comments you’d just get more and more heated, which would result in many slammed doors, and a lot of raised voices. You could put up with the arguments, you could fix that, but giving himself to another woman? You couldn’t forgive. You knew you had to be objective with your exit. Though T’Challa had always been sweet to you until recently, he had the capacity to be cruel, he was the Black Panther after all. You wouldn’t put it past him to keep you in the palace as a captive if you made any attempts to leave him, especially with his son. During sex he’d let you know it was he who was dominating your body with skill that made you cry out wantonly every time. “You’re mine Y/N, say it!” he’d growl into your ear, and you would say it, because it was true. __ Your sons whining took you from your thoughts, and you remembered you had to be swift. There was only a small window that would allow you to leave undetected. You had been planning this for weeks. Waiting for the perfect moment. T’challa was gone on an annual hunting trip where many of the Dora Milaje would accompany him as he wouldn’t be in communication with the palace for 3 days. A lot could happen in 3 days. Today was day one, and you had planned to leave today as it would give you the most amount of time to get as far away from the palace as possible and leave undetected. The palace was still guarded, but loosely, and you knew all the blind spots. Perks of hanging out with Shuri in your down time. You snuck out the side door in the west wing, which led to an unsuspecting dirt road, spotting the cab you had arranged for idling in the shadows. Having already placed your small luggage in the cab before going back to retrieve your son it only took you a moment to settle yourself and a sleeping Kweku in the car. “What’s your destination?” the cab driver asked you curiously looking at your cloaked figure in the rear-view mirror. You took a deep breath and steadied your voice “Take us North, I’ll tell you where to stop.” The driver nodded his head and began the journey turning on a shitty American station that played pop music and country. You’d never forget this day. To you, it was monumental because you had managed to pull it off but it was also the day when you turned your back on your duty, your kingdom, your husband and your crown. When that realization struck you, the tears slid down your face disobediently. No matter what, you vowed to never look back

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angel-tries-to-write · 3 years ago

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Not so happily ever after

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Teen and up Pairing: Miche Zacharias x Nanaba Word count: 2152 Genre: domestic fluff, emotional hurt/comfort

There was time when Nanaba thought that motherhood was rough, but full of love and happiness. That was before postpartum depression ruined her life. Luckily Miche knows what to do.

Nanaba knew that maternity had never been an easy thing to do. Maybe she lacked personal experience, as her own mother wasn't a particularly good example, of a mother, but she had Levi's mom, then her friend Nifa, even Hanji, who knew enough about biology to be helpful. So ever since she had found out she was pregnant, and she and Miche decided to accept that fate, Nana had had a lot of time to get ready for being a mother. In theory, at least, because in reality working two full time jobs was giving a very little opportunities to actually learn about pregnancy and parenthood. Even when she finally could quit her job at the restaurant and became a No Name's manager, her duties were so time consuming, that it was a miracle when she could take some rest. Speaking of mental rest, of course, because physically she was resting a lot, especially in the later stages of her pregnancy, when the baby grew big enough to make walking and sitting uncomfortable. Then there were some complications with her health, which resulted in her having to wait for the childbirth in the hospital due to stress, so only then, when by doctor's order she had to leave all of her work to Erwin, Nana had the time to actually read some parenting books, instead of flipping through them. So when the time had come and she went into a labor, she was more or less prepared.

It turned out it was less, her labor wasn't progressing and an emergency c-section was needed to save the baby's life. That really crushed her. Of course, the most important thing was that their beautiful baby girl — whom they decided to name Flora — was strong and healthy, but being unable to deliver her without the medical intervention was one of the things which really affected Nana's mental health. She felt guilty. She felt like she had failed as a mother and as a woman. She needed two weeks until she could function relatively normally. Relatively, because — as she was told — the full process of recovery during the postpartum period could last approximately six weeks.

What no one told her, however, was that her mental health would drop significantly during that time. It wasn't surprising though, the situation she was placed in wasn't something she was easily able to adapt to. She felt physically terrible, she experienced a lot of pain, because of the wound obviously, but even breastfeeding turned out to be more challenging than she first expected it to be. So she ended up with very sore breasts, heavy with milk, and sensitive, hurting nipples as well. Her whole body in general looked and felt way worse than what she was used to. Stretch marks, loose skin, still big belly that had no intention in becoming flat again and eternal exhaustion were making every glare in the mirror painful and repulsing. Not to mention she was bleeding all the time, because her body was cleaning out after pregnancy, so she felt dirty and uncomfortable all the time.

On top of that — and this was probably the worst thing of all, which made her feel really down — she wasn't miraculously flooded with love for her baby. It was supposed to happen the moment she was given her child, that was was what she had always heard. The love for her baby was supposed to be something that would make her forget all the pain and discomfort of labor. But nothing like that happened, she looked at her baby and she couldn’t feel anything. Of course, she would never want anything bad to happen to her newborn daughter, she didn’t hate her. She was indifferent, empty, it was nothing.

Another thing that was making her feel worse, was seeing Miche, who was totally nailing being a father. He was doing everything, literally, because Nanaba was lying in bed most of the time, unable to do anything. So taking care of baby Flora, taking care of Nanaba and keeping their house relatively functioning was all on Miche. Of course, they weren’t left on their own, their friends were visiting every two or three days, just like a few months prior they were doing the same thing for Moblit and Nifa, and their help was priceless. But also it all was making Nanaba feel worse, because she expected herself to do everything, but in fact she could do nothing, which made her feel like an utter disappointment.

When she finally felt good enough to get out of bed and function relatively normally, she felt only slightly better and only a little less guilty that Miche didn’t have to do everything on his own. She knew he didn’t feel particularly good with having all those responsibilities, but not even once he had complained about it. And that made Nanaba feel deeply grateful and enamored with her husband, but she also blamed herself for everything.

What she hadn’t thought about was that Miche wasn’t dumb. He knew perfectly what was happening to his wife, but he himself needed some time to get familiar with this new situation that the birth of their daughter had created. It took him a little over two weeks, roughly the same amount of time Nanaba needed to recover after c-section. And when they did, he knew it was time to do something because his responsibilities and Nana’s terrible mood and well-being made their relationship suffer. They weren’t living with each other anymore, they lived next to each other. And of course, the baby was important, but after two weeks it was the high time for the new parents to do something for themselves.

“She’s asleep?” Miche asked, seeing his wife leaving their daughter’s room. Nanaba didn’t say a word, she just nodded. “Good. Come on” he reached his hand and took hers.

“Where?” she asked weakly, looking at him with tired eyes.

“We’ll take a shower.”

“What about Flora?” Nana asked with uncertainty.

“She’s asleep. She’ll be fine. And we could use a moment for each other” he gave his wife a quick kiss and pulled her to the bathroom. “Don’t worry, we have this” he said, grabbing a baby monitor. “We’ll know if something happens, but I’m convinced it won’t.”

“You can’t know for sure.”

“Of course not, but I believe we deserve some rest.”

Nana sighed and let Miche pull her to the bathroom. She watched him undress but she made no move to do the same. Her body looked so different that she was too reluctant to show it. Fortunately her husband knew what to do and didn’t care at all about any potential insecurities.

“Come here” he said softly and started to unbutton her stretched, oversized shirt. She averted her eyes, convinced he would be disappointed by what he was going to see. “Don’t be ashamed. You look beautiful as usual” he said with a warm smile.

“I don’t look beautiful. I don’t feel beautiful” she protested, but allowed him to undress her. She trusted him after all.

“You just look different, but still beautiful, my love” Miche reassured his beloved wife, pulled her under the warm stream of water on hope it would help her relax.

“So different I don't feel like myself anymore” she admitted. Nanaba had never had a particularly high self esteem, but after the childbirth in decreased even more. No wonder she kept talking and thinking that way.

“It's okay, you just need some time. Your body has changed so much, because it did something incredible. Nanaba, you made our baby. It was a great thing to do, took a lot of effort and a lot of changes. You can't expect to look still the same.”

“But I didn't think the changes would go this far and that going back to normal would take this long.”

“It's not long, it takes exactly as long as it should. You were pregnant for nearly a year, did you expect to go back to the state you were in before in one day?” he asked and she said nothing, but he hoped she would think about it. “How long does a postpartum period last?” he asked suddenly.

“You know this” she answered quietly.

“I do, but I want you to say it. So?” he watched her, waiting patiently. Nanaba sighed, giving up.

“About six weeks.”

“How long ago did you give birth?”

“Two weeks” she said like it was difficult for her to admit it.

“Which means you have about a month more to recover, right?”

“Fine. You won” she sighed.

“I don't want to win, I want you to understand that you can't rush your body. You have to accept that some things take time and it's never good to rush them. It would be unhealthy and very bad if your postpartum lasted for too short” he explained. His wife was looking at him for a moment.

“Alright. But how will you explain the fact that I don't love our baby?” she asked, ashamed of even saying it out loud.

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone kept saying that after the childbirth I would feel a lot of love for my child and that love would make me forget all the pain and effort. But it didn't happen. It's been two weeks and I still don't feel anything” she answered. Miche remained silent for a moment, he reached for the shampoo, squeezed out a bit and started washing his wife's hair. “Please, say something” Nanaba pleaded, her voice breaking with emotions.

“Oh, sorry. I'm just thinking if I've ever read about it.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Of course not, why would I be mad?”

“Because I was supposed to love Flora, but when I look at her, I feel nothing. Obviously I don't want anything bad to happen to her, but I don't feel that overflowing love.”

“Nana, how long did it take for you to fall for me?” he asked finally, realizing what to say.

“What? What does it have to do with anything?” she asked with surprise, not understanding what he meant by this.

“Everything. You have trust issues, my love, you need time to form a bond with someone. You can't love Flora, because you simply don't know her and you can't love someone you don't know” he said. Nanaba stared at him with shock.

“She's my daughter, Miche, how can I not know her?” she asked, not quite convinced to her husband's point.

“But do you know her interests? Passions? Dreams? What she likes or dislikes? Do you know how is she like?”

“She's a baby.”

“She's another human being. Of course, we made her, but she's an individual, completely different person than us. And we needed a lot of time to get to know each other. She doesn't know us too. I'm sorry to say it, my love, but with your past it's understandable that you need more time to get to know people and you have to actively learn to trust them” he explained. Nanaba blinked a few times. Miche was right, his perspective was something new, something she hadn't thought about.

“So... You're saying that it's all a matter of time?” she asked with uncertainty, she was clearly thinking intensively about his words.

“Yes. You need time to get to know her, to form a bond with her, just like you did with me, Hanji, Erwin and everyone else.”

Nanaba stared at her beloved husband with shock. She was so drowned in her sadness and misery, that she forgot to think about the basic reasons of her feelings. What Miche told her was explaining everything. She had a hard time trusting people indeed, especially those she didn't know, which was caused by her traumatic experiences.

“Do you really think that when I get to know Flora I'm going to feel that motherly love I'm supposed to experience?” she asked with hesitation.

“Most likely. And if not, well, it's alright to ask for a professional help. Anything you need to feel better is okay” he smiled and kissed her.

Nanaba smiled as well, her husband really showed her a way to stop worrying, he gave her a very logical explanation of her behavior and feelings. This shower also helped to soothe her sore body, she felt much more relaxed and more at peace than before.

“Thank you, Miche” she said looking at the love of her life and for the first time in weeks her sad, tired eyes were shining with hope.

“You don't have to thank me. That's the least I can do for you, my love” he reassured her, turning the water off, reaching for the towels and wrapped first his wife, then himself. “Come on” he said, drying her off. “If we hurry, we might have some time for a little nap.”

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #my fic #mike zacharias #nanaba #mikenana

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narrators-journal · 3 years ago

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The final step

This is it boys! The final part! After this, I have no other fic to post, so I’ll probably return to original work or silence lol. But! I’ll try to post what I can to feed ya’ll content!

cw: descriptions of murder, Hint o’ Hisoka, reader’s pregnant

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi spent a while helping you pack before the butlers he'd requested showed up, than he returned to his home across the street to pack up as well. After all, with you now on the track to marry him, he would no longer need the home. Though, maybe we could keep it, and use it as something of a vacation spot to escape mother's unrelenting nagging. He mused.

While he was shoving his clothes into his bag and mulling over that option, he spoke to said mother, or, more-so half listened to Kikyo squeal and giggle in pure delight at the news of your pregnancy. "Mother, please refrain from shrieking in my ear," he said when his excitable mother had to stop for breath, "I'm sorry dear, but this is such good news! Your father and I were hoping this woman would prove to be a good wife, and while I will say it's a little soon for a baby, this is good news nonetheless!" She squealed, making the assassin huff, "I know, I should've waited until after I'd married her to consummate," Kikyo about blew a raspberry at his words, making him blink, "Illumi, we don't care if you decide to have sex before you get married. My only concern is that this woman isn't the right one for you." she said, "Your father would prefer that you choose a woman a bit more suited for our line of work, but if she's really as submissive as you described, I'm sure she'll be a fine addition to the family. Oh! And I'm sure your child will be absolutely adorable! I can't wait to put little booties on them, and absolutely dote on them like you no longer let me do-" "Mother," Illumi said, though his mother knew despite his monotone voice that he was annoyed. "Well, you don't." she sniffed before changing the subject. "Anyway, when are you bringing her home? I want to meet her already!" she said, going into a bit of a rant over his failure to even show Kikyo a picture of you, but her son was no longer listening. Instead, Illumi's attention was turned to his surroundings, his senses on high alert from the waves of malicious intent he felt so suddenly from the direction of your home. "Mother, was Hisoka released?" Illumi asked, his mother's voice dying at the palpable tension coming through the phone, "I believe so? Your grandfather was apparently sick of the creep, so he had him thrown out." she offered a second before Illumi hung up. In a flash, the assassin was across the street at your home, his needles at the ready. As soon as he set foot in the house, the assassin was greeted with the familiar scent of blood hanging in the air like a heavy blanket and a silence that ate at his nerves. Your home was quiet. too quiet. It about drove the assassin insane with the possible reasons behind the lack of life. Of course, the butlers that were tasked with helping you pack your clothes were dead, so that helped to explain the stifling quiet, but the sight of the help mercilessly slaughtered didn't justify the way Illumi's heart raced and a strange feeling gripped at his throat until he felt he couldn't breathe. The only time that feeling seemed to finally leave, only to be replaced with wrath, was when the casually dressed assassin slipped into your bathroom, his needles poised to be thrown, and he was met with the one person he didn't want to see inside of your home. "Hisoka." he hissed, his dark eyes narrowing and his aura reflecting the heated rage that boiled his blood at the sight of the brightly colored magician, who turned to look at him lazily, frowning as if the soulless man was as equally unwanted as the pink haired man was, "Before you maul me and get no answers, I didn't hurt your precious (y/n)." He assured, plucking one of his signature playing cards and licking the blood of a butler from it before continuing "I believe she crawled out of the bathroom window. So, I suggest you go get her back before you focus on me. Don't want her to get too far away now, do we?" The magician pouted, knowing damned well Illumi wouldn't bother with him after that news, which meant Illumi wouldn't be fighting him, yet. The assassin did, in fact, leave the magician at your house, going out instead to find you. If the help wasn't so fucking incompetent this would be a lot easier. He thought as he forced his wrathful aura into zetsu while he coldly rushed by the corpses and returned outside to prowl down the chilly streets of town, turning that edgy, strangling, anxiety feeling in his throat into energy to fuel his possessive hunt for his wife, his property. On the bright side of the situation though, you were nothing compared to the dark-haired predator, so he had that to cool his unhinged emotions before running into you. You were a recluse, you likely didn't know your way around town that well, so your trail was pretty obvious. In times of life threatening danger, people, more-so women, usually went to crowded areas after all, and you didn't know of many places that would offer help, so you were likely going to head to your grocery store. Knowing that, Illumi was able to get ahead of you, scooping you up before you could slow from a mad dash fuelled by mortal terror to a speed at which you could avoid slamming into the hunter's chest. "(y/n)," he growled, shaking you once, firmly, to put a stop to your flailing and squirming, "I am this close to jamming one of my needles into your brain. STOP IT." He ordered, the force of slightly panicked rage in his words making you freeze and stare up in terror at him with your wide (e/c) eyes. For a few seconds you stared at one another, your form squished to his in an inescapable grip while his soulless eyes glared down at you until you finally burst into tears. "Please! Just let me go!" You plead, your voice quivering with barely restrained sobs, so he took a deep breath and ran his thumb down your already tear-stained cheek, "Why would I do that? I'm only trying to keep you and our baby safe." he reminded you, but you shook your head vigorously, making bits of your (h/l), (h/c) hair stick to your face, "You're scaring me! Please let me go, I'm begging you Illumi." you cried, trying to shake his comforting hug off, "I thought you loved me," he said, not releasing you even when your upset tantrum stuttered to a stop. For a moment, you seemed conflicted, but than closed your eyes and tried to kick him to no avail, "I...I don't know anymore. You've...become so scary recently, I have to p-put my own well being ahead of any shallow attraction." you sniffled, digging your nails into his t-shirt. He brushed a strand of hair from your (s/c) face as you shook against him "(y/n), I would never do anything to harm you or our baby unless you force me to. Just behave and act like you did before figuring out you were pregnant, everything will be okay." he assured, making his voice as comforting, soft, and loving as he could manage to try and sooth you. Thankfully, he could see the fear and rebellion in your (e/c) eyes dim, returning to their usual, gorgeously submissive state. After that, you only gave one final attempt at escaping his arms before finally giving up. "Good girl, (y/n). Now, let's go home. My mother is about to implode in her excitement to meet you." After that, Illumi returned to the house he had bought for his bag of clothes, then made a beeline for the Zoldyck estate. On the trip there, the long haired assassin tried to make you happy, providing you food, comfortable places to sleep when need-be, and finding you little gifts related to your hobbies to try and entertain and make you smile. He could tell that you were still uncomfortable with him, but you slowly began to warm back up to him when your human need for companionship demanded it. However, the one thing he couldn't save you from or prepare you for, was Kikyo. The woman about tackled Illumi when he pushed open the testing gates, but as soon as you were through and safely on Zoldyck land with your husband protectively at your side, his mother began her fussing. "She looks so ill! Illumi, did you make sure she's physically healthy?" "She's not much to look at, maybe if she tried more make-up and clothes that fit her better?" "Illumi, where are her things? Did you just snatch her up off of the street while she was pregnant?!" The only thing that saved you and Illumi from his mother's judgements and chiding was a firm look from his father, Silva, who was making a rare appearance to greet you in a much calmer manner. "To answer your questions, I will get the family doctor to look her over, and her things had to be left. A threat came up and I needed to bring her here before harm befell her, so I will need to buy her new clothes." The dead eyed assassin assured his mother, who obviously had more hen pecking to do, but she refrained under the stern look of her husband. After that, Illumi got you nicely settled in to his bedroom, and while you did put up some more of a fight over staying there, you mostly accepted your role as his wife-to-be and mother of his child rather easily. He knew you were simply acting out from your hormones and the stress of your situation, so he did his best to keep his temper with you. "It'll be okay (y/n), once you get comfortable here, we'll be happy." Illumi soothed one night after one of your bouts of sobbing and fighting to escape while he sat, cross-legged with you in his lap and his hands rubbing your belly. You weren't showing much yet, but it still pleased him greatly to now have his wife and child safely at home. That's right, he thought, letting a rare smile spread across his usually unreadable face, you're home now, (y/n)...

#Illumi #yandere illumi x reader #x reader #yandere #hisoka #hxh #hunter x hunter #part 12 #quotev #fanfiction

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years ago

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Not the future you want.

summary: You don’t want kids and that’s a deal breaker for Harry, until it isn’t.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending tho.

a/n: long time no see!! I missed writing for y’all SO much but lately i’ve been so busy, here’s a little something i wrote after finishing all my homework, please tell me what you think!

You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

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Y/n didn't know how they got here.

Not even ten minutes ago they were wrapped around the covers of Harry's bed after making love, both still naked and sweaty from the previous activities. Harry was showering her with kisses all over her face, paying special attention to her nose and lips. The silence that covered them was comfortable, warm.

Right now all she felt was cold, iced silence filling the room as Harry stared at her with startled eyes. Suddenly, the once safe space they had to feel comfortable being naked in front of the other, was long gone and replaced with an awkwardness in the air. Y/n pulled the covers up to her chest, sitting down on the bed as she watched Harry do the same.

"What did you say?" He said. Although he heard it the first time she said it, he wished with all his being there was some kind of misunderstanding and he got it all wrong.

"Are you upset?" She asked cautiously. "Because you sound upset."

"No, I'm... Fuck, Y/n, I'm not upset." He passed a hand through his face. "Excuse me for being a little offended you don't want kids with me."

"I don't want kids with anyone, Harry." She said, growing upset. "Don't take it personally." Y/n started to look for her clothes that currently were laying on the floor, knowing what was going to come.

"But... baby, why? wouldn't it be nice to have mini us running around?" He sounded out of breath like someone just kicked him right in the stomach. He figured he could at least try to convince her otherwise. "Imagine how cute our babies will look. They'd have your adorable nose, maybe my eyes..."

"H, I'm sorry... kids have never been in my plans, it isn't something that I want." She said slowly, not knowing how Harry will take it.

"Wouldn't you willing to at least try?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't want to do that to my body. I've worked so hard to look the way I do and, honestly? Pregnancy takes a toll on you both mentally, and physically and I don't want that." Y/n got out of the bed dragging the covers with her as she grabbed her clothes and started to get dressed.

At that moment Harry didn't know that, what came out of his mouth next, would either save his relationship or end it for good. "That's so... shallow." He practically spat.

"Yeah? Try carrying a human being inside of you for nine months!"

"If I could I'd do it since you're being this selfish!"

"Am I being selfish?! Listen to yourself! I don't owe you any explanation regardless of what I want and don't want to do with my body!" She finished putting her clothes on, silently thanking herself for wearing a dress and make it easier to get dressed in between all this mess. "I am not a baby machine, Harry. I don't exist just to get pregnant and be a fucking mother. If you want a baby so badly, then find someone who does as well!"

"But I love you!" He said, not realizing he was being childish.

"Then we can get a pet! It's the same responsibility."

"I can't believe you just compared a human being to a pet, Y/N! Don't be so stupid!" He threw his hands in the air.

"I honestly don't know what you want me to tell you." Y/n crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry that you feel that way but I'm not changing my mind. I understand if..."

"I need time to... think."

"H..." She tried taking a step closer to him, but he backed off.

"Leave, please."

She didn't know if that was going to be the end of their relationship, and she hoped it wasn't. However, guessing by the look on Harry's face, this was it.

Harry's been miserable. He thought he'd only feel like these the first months after breaking up with Y/n but as the fifth month rolled in, he realized there was no way he'd ever get her out of his head... and out of his heart.

Even though he stopped crying in the shower in month three, he was still unable to go to the same places he used to go with her, his heart hurting too much for all the memories that hit him right in the face as he walks into the coffee shop they used to go to every Friday, or the place on the park they used to sit on after buying ice cream from the lovely old man who always gave Y/n a flower. He was slowly losing his mind and everyone around him could tell exactly what was happening. He missed Y/n.

The problem was, he took way too long to realize he made a mistake, probably the most tremendous one of his entire life. He couldn't stop thinking that, if he answered those calls he declined from her, the love of his life would most likely be wrapped around a blanket in his living room, watching the notebook for the millionth time as they cuddled closer and closer to each other. She always let Harry chose the movie, despite she always knew what his choice would be and although she used to get bored at the movie, after a few times watching it with Harry, she grew to like it.

That was who she is. She's always pleasing everyone else, often growing upset when she can get the people around her what they wanted. And that included Harry. She used to put him and whatever he wanted first, always. If Harry wanted to go out, they'd go out. If he wanted to stay in, they'd stay in. And deep down, Harry knew that the reason why he lashed out at her he way he did seven months ago, it was because he knew Y/n wouldn't be able to fulfill the one dream he wanted the most. Or at least, the dream he thought he wanted the most because when his anger went down and he was able to see clearly, he realized there wasn't anything in this world he wanted more than to be with her, and that if he ever went and married another woman just to be a father, that baby wouldn't be half the love of his life, therefore nothing would be perfect and his life wouldn't be as happy as he was when he was with Y/n.

"You have to get out of bed, H." Gemma said as she opened the curtains of the bedroom, making him let out a groan. "Although you're an asshole, it hurts me to see you like this."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Gem." His words came out muffled as his face was still pressed to the pillow. The one from the side Y/N used to sleep on.

"That wasn't a pep talk, knobhead." She sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm just tired of seeing you like this, Har. You fucked up, stop mopping around and own your mistake."

"She hates me."

"She has every reason to," Harry gave her a dirty look. "but, I don't think she does. You know her, she loved you more than anything."

"Yeah, she really did." Harry's eyes filled with a new wave of tears and he choked a sob. "I was so wrong, Gem. I can't believe I yelled at her the way I did." He cried. "I had the love of my life and I made her leave." Now he sobbed.

His sister sighed. Although it was very clear who's fault was, she couldn't help but feel bad for his baby brother. Everyone could see how happy they made each other, always saying they were it for the other. And they were true. That was, of course, until Harry fucked up.

"I'm telling you this because I love you," She started. "You have to move on. It's been five months, H. You made it very clear you both wanted different things, and that's okay. But you have to accept that."

"I don't mean it anymore!"

"It doesn't matter. You meant it back then, and you're not gonna change anything staying in bed and crying all day."

"You're right." He suddenly sat up, pulling the cover off of him. "I should go see her."

"No, that's not-"

"You're a genius, Gem." Harry cupped her face and gave her an obnoxious kiss on the cheek.

"Ew!"

"I will get her back!" He jumped out of the bed and trotted to his walk-in closet, stripping out of his pajamas and into whatever pants and shirt he found. "I'll apologize and she will understand, right?"

"Baby brother, I think you're being a little too optimistic." Gemma stood up and walked towards him. "Don't be stupid, an 'I'm sorry' will not fix anything. Also, you don't even know where to find her, or how is she... or who she's with." Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "What? You have to consider all the options."

"I check her Instagram every day, she's not dating anyone."

"She can hide posts and stories from you, dumbass." She crossed her arms. "And every day? Creep."

Harry sticks his tongue out at her. "I also check her friend's profiles, believe me, she's single. And I'm gonna win her back."

"Harry," Gemma started, but he was already out of the run and running down the stairs. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To her house!" He yelled back from the bottom of the stairs, grabbing his keys.

"Hang on, I'll take you!"

"What, really?" He stopped his tracks, turning around to face his sister.

"If you suffer from humiliation, I have to videotape it." She smirked, grabbing her purse and opening the front door.

"You're horrible."

"Chop, chop! Let's go, Romeo."

"I..." Hiccup. "I hate..." Hiccup. "... Men." Hiccup. "But I love you, Nolan."

"Alright, It's three in the afternoon, Y/n/n. Cut the tequila."

"What?!" She gasped. "It's never too early for tequila." She raised her finger at her best friend.

"C'mon, darling. Let's get you into the shower. Hannah should be here soon too."

"I love you guys." She said as Nolan practically carried her up the stairs and to her bedroom. "And I love Harry."

He sighed, finally entering the room, sitting Y/n on her bed where he immediately collapsed. "I know you do, sweetheart. Now, I want you in the bathroom."

She groaned, extending her hands at him. Nolan rolled his eyes but grabbed her hands to pull from her. He didn't know how she managed to get this drunk at three o'clock, but then again after five months of pretending to be okay, a breakdown was meant to happen sooner or later.

"You're the bestest friend ever."

"Mhm, repeat that when you're sober." Closing the door behind him, he helped her take her clothes off.

"Is Marcus mad at me because you left him to come here?" She asked, pouting. Marcus was Nolan's boyfriend.

"Of course not, don't be silly. He wants to take you out tonight though."

"Yes! Thousand times yes. Count. Me. In."

"What you want is your head on the toilet all night, don't you?" Y/N stepped into the shower but let out a squeal when she felt the cold water hit her skin.

"Let me out, let me out."

"Nope, we need to sober you up so you stay there." He leaned on the wall, waiting for her with a towel in his hands.

After a quick shower, Nolan wrapped her in the fluffy towel and left the room to go downstairs, he figured Y/n could handle herself for a bit while he waited for Hannah to arrive with food. He hasn't seen her this drunk since the day she and Harry broke up, so she still had a lot to let out.

There was a knock on the door and Nolan hurried to open it, thinking Hannah was finally here. To his surprise, instead of their blonde friend being there with loads of food for them to eat, Harry Styles was waiting on the other side of the door, holding the biggest bouquet of pink roses he's ever seen before.

"No, handsome. Go back to where you came from."

"C'mon, Nolan. Is she home?"

"Nope." Nolan crossed his arms, trying to look more intimidating. "She's out there, living her best life."

"Then why are you here?"

The blonde man opened his mouth then closed it again. "None of your business. Look, Harry, let it go. Do you seriously think showing up here five months after with a huge bouquet of flowers will magically fix everything?"

"I need to talk to Y/n, please. I-I messed up, okay? I was horrible to her and I know it, but I want to make it right."

He sighed. "Right now is not a good time, trust me." Harry frowned. "Do you want my advice? Move on."

With that, he closed the door on his face and returned to the living room. He was not going to allow his best friend to get her heart broken all over again over a pair of pretty eyes.

"When you said we'd be going out, I thought you meant to get fucked up, not to sing karaoke." Y/N said as she took a long sip of her drink, resting her cheek on her palm.

"Who says we can't do both here? Besides, I'll be fun." Marcus said.

"I don't sing, my loves. I came for the alcohol." Hannah finished her drink and stood up to walk to the bar to get another one.

"You're alcoholics, both of you."

"I call it, drown in your own sorrow."

"Cheers for that."

After a few rounds, Nolan was up serenading Marcus, completely out of key but no one cared since they were all already a little bit tipsy. Y/N was having a great time with her friends, completely forgetting the reason why she got drunk at three in the afternoon. No one knew what she did to not be hungover right now, but nonetheless, they were glad she was there having fun too.

That was until Nolan noticed Harry walk into the bar.

"Pst, Han." He whispered. "Wait ten seconds then turn around."

She did what he said. "Oh, so he did come."

"Wait, what?!" he whispered-yelled.

"I told him we'd be here." She shrugged.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because they need to talk." Nolan rolled his eyes. "Cut the crap, you know I'm right. Y/n deserves an apology and Harry has one, easy peasy."

"You forgot the part where he broke her heart."

"Hey, I'm not defending him. However, they're crazy for each other and unless they talk things out, we'll have our best friend become an alcoholic."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Y/n said, returning to the table after going to the bathroom.

"About how I need another drink!" Hannah exclaimed.

"Ugh, me too. I'll go this time." She got up again.

"Wait!" Nolan grabbed her hand but Hannah kicked him under the table, making him groan.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, yes. Can you bring me one too?"

"I got you, babes."

She walked to the bar while humming the song someone was singing up there. "Oop." Y/n tripped over her own feet but before she could fell face down on the floor, someone wrapped a hand around her forearm. "Oh, thank you..." She looked up to see the stranger who saved her and her breath hitched when she saw him. "Harry."

"Hey, love."

"What... how-? Wait, don't call me love!" She crossed her arms, annoyed.

"Y/n, wait, please. We need to talk."

"Oh, no, no. We-" She signaled the space between them. "Have nothing to talk about."

"Listen to me, please. I know you don't have to, and I know that I was horrible and behaved like a proper dick five months ago, but I want to apologize to you, I'm begging you."

She sighed. She looked into his eyes and saw a flash of hurt and regret, his hair also looked a mess and he looked like he hasn't shaved in a while. Maybe he's been feeling as bad as her. Deep down, she hoped he has.

"Five minutes, then I'm gone."

Harry wasted no time and pulled her towards the bathrooms, entering the ladies one and double-checking it was empty before locking the door. "First of all, you have no idea how much I've missed you." She opened her mouth, probably to throw a sarcastic comment but he interrupted her. "Let me finish, please. Last time I saw you... I wasn't nice, at all. I lashed out at you for no reason, honestly. You were right, I've got no say in whatever you want to do with your body. I was a brat and I was mad at... honestly, I don't know what I was mad about. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize this, but I don't need anyone else if I have you, Y/n. You're the love of my life and-" He grabbed her hands. "I love you with my whole heart. If kids isn't something you want, then we don't need it, baby."

"Harry, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Excuse me?"

"You love kids! I know you've always wanted to be a father, and you'll be a great one, one day. You deserve to have the future you've always dreamt of having." She offered him a tiny smile. "I'm not the future that you want, H."

"Y/n, listen to me, you're my dream. You, no one else."

"If we stayed together, one day you're gonna wake up and realize you missed your opportunity of having a family of your own and you're gonna hate me forever."

"Of course not." He said, offended. "How could you say that? I could never, never hate you. I'd hate my life if you weren't in it."

"We want different things. And despite me knowing that, I still walked into this relationship because I was selfish. Selfish because I thought you... you would change your mind."

"You're the most selfless person I've ever known, my love. You're not selfish, I'm an asshole. I didn't listen to you because I always want everything to be my way. But we're a team, we got each other. We don't need anything else."

At this point, Harry was ready to drop on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He was trying so hard to not start sobbing right there, but Y/n looked like she's made up her mind and he felt like his heart was breaking more and more as the minutes passed. He didn't know what else to say to convince her to be with him, and that terrified him.

"I don't know..."

"Please, give me one more chance. Please, baby."

Y/n was really trying to think this through. On one hand, she missed him more than anything, and she's been miserable these past months without her, no matter how much she tried to put on a happy face for everyone around her. On the other hand, she felt like she needed to let Harry go so he could be happy with someone else, someone who shared the same dreams and plans as him. Her blood boiled at the last part, feeling jealous of even thinking about Harry, his Harry, being with someone else.

She had him right in front of her on a silver plate, ready to rebuild their relationship because he loved her too much to let her go.

"I really missed you." She finally collapsed into his arms, holding him tightly. "And I'm so scared of losing you."

"You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not ever. You're stuck with me, okay?" He cupped her cheeks, looking at her straight in the eye. Her eyes were filled with tears but a little smile was forming on her face. "My pretty baby. I love you so so much and I'm so excited to spend my life with you."

"I love you too, I can't wait to be with you forever."

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grlwtskulltattoo · 3 years ago

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Fall For You - Chapter 4

Characters - Jax Teller x OFC (Katrina)

Summary - Katrina leaves an abuse relationship and heads home after finding out about her father’s passing. Old feelings come back to the surface for a person from her past. Story will follow the events of the show as much as possible. How might have Jax’s story changed with a different woman in his life.

Word Count - 8152

Warnings - NSFW, Hardcore Smut, Violence, Angst, Adult Language, Dark Themes, Fluff, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Accident, Mentions of Physical and Emotional Abuse, Self-Harm. Drinking.

Will add to the warnings as the story progresses. Warnings cover the whole series. Some parts will be more mild than others.

A/N - Feedback is welcomed and encouraged, and may help motivate me to continue. All mistakes are my own. If you would like to be tagged in future parts, please send me an ask to be added to the list.

I know this chapter has been a long time coming. Just took me awhile to get the pieces to fit into the right place. I can only hope that I did it justice. This chapter ended up being twice as long as I expected. I hope that helps make up for the long ass wait…. Oh and there is an added bonus at the end of the chapter…..Smut….If you’re into that kind of thing. I apologize in advance if it sucks…. Been a long time since I’ve written steamy sex scenes. Thanks for following along on this crazy ride.

Katrina spent the week following her father’s funeral preparing the house to put up for sale. She had no desire to continue living in the house that harbored so many bad memories. Her only regret is that bad memories out weigh the good ones involving her mom. She went through all of her father’s belongings. She saved the important stuff, family mementos that mainly involved her mom, some things from her father’s past that she’s curious about, and some items from her childhood. She was surprised to find a shoebox in her closet filled with notes that her, Jax and Opie passed to each other in school. She knew that she should throw them away, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The stuff she didn’t want to keep was piled up in the driveway under the carport beside the garage for the local thrift store to pick up.

She is leaving the furniture in the house at the recommendation of the Realtor. He told Katrina that having furniture in the house gives potential buyers a better idea of the size of the rooms. Katrina doesn’t really care either way, the furniture will be donated as soon as the house sells. The old Dodge Challenger in the garage Katrina plans to keep. Even if she has to rent a storage unit to store it in until she finds a new place to call home. She is only keeping the bare necessities in the house for her to use until she leaves.

She has to admit that she’s a little relieved that she hasn’t had any unexpected guests. Everything has been pretty quiet since the funeral, other than the explosion that occurred the night before last, on the outskirts of town. She can’t help but wonder if Samcro was somehow involved with it. Maybe that was why Jax hasn’t tried to stop by.

Katrina spent some time pouring over the old photos in her father’s stuff. On the back of the photo of him dressed in Native American regalia was written “Pine Ridge Res”. She wondered if maybe his family lived on the reservation. Maybe she had an aunt or uncle still living there. She was seriously considering taking a drive up there to investigate. Hopefully learn more about his past, so maybe she can understand why he became such a bitter asshole of a father. South Dakota might also be a good place to get a fresh start, away from Charming and far away from Vince.

Katrina puts the photos in an envelope and places it with her duffle in her bedroom. She fixes herself something to eat once she realizes that it’s already evening time. While she is eating, she thinks about the meal Gemma prepared for the dinner after her father’s funeral. She still feels a little guilty for leaving the way that she did. Gemma has a good heart, and has always treated Katrina like family, even if she has a tendency to meddle. Katrina knows in her heart it wouldn't feel right to just leave town without expressing her gratitude to Gemma for all of her help. Once Katrina finishes eating, she cleans up then grabs her jacket. She’s getting a little stir crazy at the house and decides to head over to TM to see if Gemma is still there working in the office. It’s getting a little late, but she remembers Gemma used to work all hours of the day and evening depending on how busy they were.

As Katrina rode her Harley to the shop she knew she was taking a chance on running into Jax. Hopefully he’ll be out doing club stuff, and won’t notice her there. When she pulled into the parking lot at Teller Morrow it was mostly empty save a couple cars and bikes. She parks her bike near the office, relieved to see Gemma’s car parked near the door. When Katrina turns off her bike, she’s surprised that there’s no loud rowdy music coming from the clubhouse. It’s actually pretty quiet. There is light filtering from the office window, so she’s fairly confident that Gemma’s inside. Katrina quietly walks inside the open door, catching Gemma off guard.

“Hey baby, what brings you by?” Gemma asks with concern in her voice. Katrina notices that Gemma looks tired, like the weight of the world is resting on her shoulders.

“I wanted to apologize for leaving the dinner the way I did last week. I feel really bad about it, especially after everything you did to help. I think all the emotions were getting to me, and it was hard listening to all the stories about my father.” Katrina sincerely expresses to Gemma.

Gemma gestures to the chair next to desk, and Katrina takes a seat. “That’s ok baby, I know how hard it is to lose someone. It can take a minute to process everything going on. How are you doing now?” Gemma asks while lightly rubbing Katrina’s arm that is resting on the corner of her desk.

“Better. I cleaned out the rest of the house, got it listed with a real estate agent.” Katrina replies.

Gemma looks a little surprised. “So I guess that means you’re not planning on sticking around.”

Katrina can hear the disappointment in Gemma’s voice. “I don’t belong in Charming anymore. Never really did. I’ll probably stick around for a little bit to make sure everything goes ok with the showings of the house. Then I’m probably gonna take off.”

Gemma shakes her head at Katrina’s first comment. “You’ve always belonged here, Kat. I know Jax and Opie have missed you. I’ve missed you. You were like the daughter I never had. Don’t ever feel like you don’t belong here. You’re family.” Gemma looks Katrina straight in the eyes as she grips her arm.

Katrina sighs as she looks away. If only Gemma knew the truth about her father, maybe she’d understand why this town carried so many bad memories for her. Not to mention the whole Jax and Tara thing. “How are things going here? The clubhouse is pretty quiet.” Katrina asks trying to change the subject.

Gemma loosens her grip on Katrina’s arm. “Been a busy last few days. The club’s dealing with a Mayan problem. Jax’s junkie whore of an ex-wife, Wendy, just gave birth to his son. We don’t know yet if the baby is going to make it. He was born 10 weeks premature with a tear in his abdomen and the family flaw. I just got back to the office after spending a few hours trying to straighten up Jax’s house from the mess his ex left.” Gemma grabs a cigarette from her pack on the desk and lights it.

Katrina is in shock. She didn’t know Jax had an ex-wife and a newborn baby. “Wow. I had no idea.” She’s a little surprised that he was involved with a different women. She had alway imagined that he’d be married to Tara.

“Yeah, it’s been a little crazy around here.” Gemma sighs. “Jax won’t see his son in the hospital. Something about not wanting to get attached incase he doesn’t make it. Which is bullshit, he just doesn’t want to get his heart broken.” Gemma looks at Katrina with a pleading look in her eyes. “Do you think you could talk to him?” Gemma asks hopeful.

Katrina feels uncomfortable with the request. “I don’t know about that.” She tries to decline gently, shaking her head.

“Please, Kat. He won’t listen to me. You and him were so close. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Gemma pleads.

Ugg. It was the last thing Katrina wanted to do. Get in the middle of family drama. She really doesn't feel it’s her place to get involved, especially since she’s been gone for so long. She’s not as close to Jax as she used to be. She has been trying to avoid that. But seeing Gemma upset breaks her heart. “Ok. I’ll try to talk to him. I can’t make any guarantees that he’ll listen though.” Katrina reluctantly agrees.

“Thank you, Kat. He’s in the clubhouse.” Gemma looks relieved.

Oh shit, right now? Katrina wasn’t expecting to have to do it so soon. She was hoping to have the night to think about how to approach Jax. Katrina reluctantly gets out of her seat followed by Gemma. Gemma takes Katrina in her arms and gives her a little squeeze. “Thank you baby.” Gemma whispers in her ear.

Katrina gives Gemma a light pat on the back before walking out of the office. As she walks to towards the clubhouse she takes deep breaths of the cool evening air trying to steel her nerves. Mentally preparing herself for all the questions she’s sure to get bombarded with. When she enters the clubhouse, all the memories of her, Jax and Opie running around came flooding back to her. It was where she had her first shot of whiskey on a dare, learned to play poker, rocked out to loud music, and almost had her first kiss. It felt like home.

It was pretty quiet inside the clubhouse, with the exception of music playing at a low volume. She was surprised that there was no one there besides Jax. She spotted him at one of the tables, lost in thought and milking a bottle of whiskey. “So I hear congratulations are in order.” Katrina startles Jax from his drink.

Jax looks up in surprise at the intrusion. “You must have been talking to mom.” He sourly replies.

“Jackson Teller, a father.” Katrina teases him as she nears the table.

“Yeah, for how long.” Jax grumbles.

“Your mom said that you haven’t seen your son yet. Why not?” She asks as she takes a seat at the table across from Jax. She notices the sadness in his eyes at the question.

“Don’t really want my heart broken.” Jax replies, staring at the amber liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, she mentioned the heart defect and stomach issues. Something about a junkie whore. Regardless of that, if it was my son, I would be spending every second I could with him.” Katrina tries to encourage him. “Besides that, he’s got a tough as nails father, so he’s gonna be a little fighter. He’ll pull through.”

Jax smiles a little at that last comment. “So what brings you by? Besides doing mom’s dirty work.”

Katrina knows Jax is trying to change the subject. At least she can tell Gemma she tried. “I came by to apologize to your mom about leaving the dinner early after the funeral.”

Jax nods his head softly. “Yeah, everyone was disappointed you left.” Especially me.

“I thought I could handle hearing the stories about my father, but it got to be a little too much to handle at that moment. Brought up a lot of memories.” Bad memories.

“So where have you been for the last 11 years.” Jax asks pointedly.

And so it begins. Katrina can’t help but wonder if it’s too late to walk out the door. She knew Jax was going to have questions, and she had really hoped to avoid them. She gets up from the table to grab herself a shot glass and a coke from the bar, before returning to her seat. This conversation is going to require an excessive amount of alcohol. She grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting in front of Jax and pours herself a shot. Katrina quickly downs the shot, welcoming the burn of the amber liquid as it travels down her throat. She then takes a sip of the coke to calm the burn. Jax patiently waits for her response, taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand.

“When I left Charming, I bought a bus ticket to Vegas. I got a job working at a casino restaurant as a server, and then I found myself an apartment. I became really good friends with a tattoo artist at a parlor in the casino. He let me apprentice under him and has been teaching my how to tattoo and the ins and outs of the business. One day, I hope to have my own shop.” Katrina decides to leave out the part about Vince.

Jax is surprised. The club has a charter in Vegas that he’s visited numerous times over the years. If only he had known Kat was there too. He might have been able to convince her to come home sooner. At the very least, been able to visit her. He’s missed his best friend. When Katrina left, it hurt more than when Tara left for school. It wasn’t until she left that he realized how wrong he was for not pursuing a relationship with her, despite his fears.

“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised that you and Tara aren’t married with a few little ones running around. And what’s this about a ‘junkie whore’?” Katrina asks. Turn about is fair play.

Jax lets out a soft sigh. “Tara left shortly after you did. She went to the university to become a doctor. Then she went out to Chicago to intern at a hospital. She begged me to go with her. To get out of this ‘cess pool of a town’, but Charming is my home. She was pissed that I prospected into the club with Opie, even though it’s what I always wanted. To follow in my father’s footsteps, and be a part of the club that he helped build. We fought about our futures, more than we got along. We started to grow distant from each other. I wasn’t to heartbroken when she left, like I thought I would be. I was more upset about you leaving than her, even though mom blames her for breaking my heart.” Jax confesses. “Tara just recently returned home and is working at St. Thomas hospital.”

Katrina shakes her head, not surprised about Tara trying to change Jax. She had tried to warn him when they were teenagers, but she had alway felt her comments fell on deaf ears. Some people have to learn the hard way. Katrina pours herself another shot and quickly downs it.

“The junkie whore is my ex-wife, Wendy. She was a club hang-around. Her and I started spending a lot of time together. For me, it was about fighting the loneliness I felt after you left. I never really loved her. We got married a few years ago. She started using drugs, so we grew apart. Separated for awhile. Then she got clean, and did a stint in rehab. We tried to make things work again and got back together. That’s when she got pregnant with my son. Things just didn’t line up for us. I wasn’t happy, so we started growing distant again. I filed for divorce a few months ago. Told her I’d help pay the doctor bills for the pregnancy. Haven’t heard from her in a while. Apparently she started using again even though she was pregnant. Mom went over to our house yesterday and found her passed out on the kitchen floor, bleeding between her legs, with a needle stuck in between her fingers. Mom rushed her to the hospital where they preformed an emergency c-section. My son was born 10 weeks premature with a tear in his abdomen and the family flaw. He only has a 20% chance of survival. I should have kept a closer eye on them, maybe this wouldn't have happened” Jax replies with regret heavy in his voice.

“You can’t blame yourself. If she wanted the drugs bad enough, there’s nothing you could have done to stop her. She would have found a way.” Katrina tries to alleviate some of his guilt.

“That may be so, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I did beat the shit out of the dealer that has been supplying her with the poison. Wendy apologized for what she did and promised that she’s going to get clean, but it’s going to take some time to rebuild that trust. I think she’s more worried about being charged with fetal abuse, then she is about our son. If Gemma has her way, Wendy won’t be a part of our son’s life. I can’t say I disagree with mom on that.” Jax has a defeated look on his face as he pours himself another shot.

Katrina matches Jax’s shot with one of her own. She’s starting to feel a buzz from the alcohol, but she’s not sure if it’s enough to get through the questions that she knows are coming. She isn’t slurring her speech yet, but it is getting a little easier to talk. It almost feels like old times, chatting with her best friend… almost.

“So… Why did you leave town, without so much as a goodbye?” Jax asks while looking directly into Katrina’s eyes. He sees a momentary flash of pain cross Kat’s face.

There it is. The million dollar question. The one she was hoping to avoid. All the pain and bad memories came flashing back to the forefront of her mind. She knew deep down Jax has a right to know, but it didn’t make it any easier. She can’t help but fear that once he knows the truth about her father, he’ll look at her differently. With pity, or guilt for not realizing what was going on and stopping it. She doesn’t want him to feel sorry for her, she fought her own way out and it made her stronger.

Kat pours herself another shot and takes a sip of it before answering him. “One of the reasons I left was to get away from my abusive asshole of a father. Shortly after my mom died, my father started to become distant to me. It was like the sight of me reminded him of what he lost. Almost like he blamed me for her death, even though she died from cancer. He would loose his temper over the smallest things. That lead to him breaking things around the house. If there were dirty dishes left in the sink, he would throw them across the room shattering them against the wall. If I left my backpack on the floor after school, he’d toss it. He started punching holes in the walls, kicking down doors. After while the only thing that seemed to calm him was liquor. As soon as he arrived home from work he’d grab a beer from the fridge, sometimes a couple of them. When the beer started losing its effectiveness he started drinking more hard liquor and getting into drug use. That’s when I started to become his punching bag. If I got in his way he’d hit or kick me. If he felt I was talking back to him he’d slap me across my face. He told me I was worthless, that I was no better than garbage, and that he couldn’t wait until I was no longer his problem.”

Katrina lightly rubbed the small row of scars near wrist with her thumb, slightly hidden by the skeleton torso tattoo on her forearm. She remembers the pain she felt inside from her father’s words and the relief she felt cutting herself with the small knife she kept in her pocket. She never cut herself deep enough for there to be very much blood, just enough for the physical pain of the blade sliding across her skin to distract her from the pain in her heart.

She glances at Jax’s face and sees the shock and anger in his eyes. Before she continues, she grabs a cigarette from the pack on the table, lights it, then takes a deep drag off it to calm her nerves.”That’s why I used to wear long sleeve shirts and jeans in the middle of summer. To hide all the bruises and scratches on my arms and legs. I stayed out as late as possible with you and Opie, hoping that my father would be passed out before I got home. Some times I’d get lucky and he’d be asleep on the couch, other times I was greeted with him calling me a slut or a whore for staying out so late with the guys. I tried to avoid him as much as possible. When it got closer to graduation I started planning my escape. I saved as much money as I could from my after school job, and used it to buy a bus ticket. I just always seemed to be in the way. So when I got old enough, I got out of the way”

"Why didn't you say something? Tell us that was going on.” Jax is heartbroken and angry to find out that his best friend had been suffering and he did nothing to stop it. He remembered the nights when he, Katrina and Opie hung out. Remembered her reluctance to go home when Gemma said it was time to get ready for bed. Or the nights Katrina begged him to hang out for just one more hour, even though it was already getting pretty late.

"What? So that you could 'save me'. I didn't want your pity or for you to feel sorry for me. I didn't need you to fight my battles.” Katrina defends her silence on the matter, a hint of scorn in her voice.

"So you run away instead? Leave behind every one you've ever known. The people that love and care about you." Jax accuses her, the hurt evident in his eyes.

"Seems to me like you were busy loving someone else." Katrina mumbles under her breath.

Jax gives Katrina a confused look. He wasn’t sure he heard her right, but he had a feeling she was referring to his relationship with Tara. “Now that your father is gone, are you planning on sticking around Charming?” Jax asks, hopeful that there may be an opportunity for them to spend more time together. To reconnect.

Katrina sighs before downing the rest of her shot. “I put the house on the market. The stuff I plan on keeping I’m going to get a storage unit for until I find a new place. I’m not planning on going back to Vegas, but I am thinking of heading north. Maybe towards the Dakotas.” She sees the disappointment on Jax’s face.

“I was kind of hoping that you were going to stick around for a bit.” So maybe I could change your mind about leaving. Jax feels crestfallen, his heart is pounding in fear that she’ll leave and he’ll never get a chance to find out if they would be good together. Ever since Katrina returned to Charming, the what if’s and should’ve beens have been plaguing Jax’s mind. He knows now that it was a mistake hooking up with Tara back in high school. It should have been Kat. She always understood him, never made him feel that he had to choose between her or the club. Things might have been so different for both of them.

“I was going to stick around for maybe another week or two, just to make sure there are no problems with showing the house. Incase something major needs to be fixed.” Katrina reassures Jax, although, by the look of his face he’s not.

“So are you seeing anyone?” Jax isn’t sure he really wants to know the answer, but he can’t help himself. He has to know if she’s involved with another man. If there is even the slightest chance he can convince her to stay.

“I was, but it’s over now.” She really doesn’t want to elaborate on her relationship with Vince, and she hopes that answer is enough to appease Jax.

Jax feels a flicker of hope. “You said your dad was one of the reasons why you left, were there any other reasons?” Despite what Kat was going through with her dad treating her like shit, Jax still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that she would just leave. Without any warning or even a goodbye. They were best friends. He has never felt as close to another person as he did her, and for her to disappear the way she did, crushed him. He has a feeling there is more to the story.

Katrina groans inwardly at the question, but at this point, with the alcohol coursing through her veins she feels there is no point in holding back. She has already confessed one of her darkest secrets by revealing her past with her father, what’s one more secret. It’s not like it can change the past.

“The other reason I left was because it killed me seeing you and Tara together. I’ve had feelings for you since we were kids. I thought as we grew up and got older those feelings would change, but they never did. I was in love with you and it broke my heart seeing you with her.” Katrina confesses feeling extremely exposed. She just laid her heart and soul on the table.

Jax is blown away by her answer. He feels a sense of relief that she shares his feelings. He knew she cared about him when they were younger, but he always felt that she probably cared about him in a sort of brother sister way. To find out that she was in love with him made his heart soar, and gave him even more hope that there is a chance they could be together. If he can convince her to stay and give them a chance. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?” Jax asks, even though he can guess her answer.

“I was afraid you didn't feel the same way towards me, and it would just come across as jealously towards Tara. That it would change the way you felt around me, the way you acted around me. I was afraid of losing my best friend.” Katrina admits.

Jax feels like a dumbass now. All this time wasted that they could have been together. If they wouldn’t have been so afraid to tell each other. “I also have something to confess. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Since we were kids.”

Katrina looks at Jax with surprise on her face. She never expected to hear those words come out of his mouth. Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe it was the whiskey talking. "So why didn't you ever tell me how you felt?" Katrina asks, genuinely intrigued.

"Because I was terrified that if or when I fucked things up between us, I would not only lose the woman I loved, but I'd also lose my best friend. It wasn’t until after you left that I realized the mistake I made. And I lost you anyways." Jax admits, his voice filled with sadness and regret.

“If you had feelings for me, then why did you hook up with Tara?” Katrina asks in confusion.

“I had some feelings for Tara, but I don’t think I was ever truly in love with her. She was more of a distraction from my feelings for you. Same with Wendy. Every time I was with them, it was your face I saw.” Jax feels a little weird for revealing that part, but it was the truth. Every woman he’s been with he pictured Kat’s face. Wished it was her, he was with.

“When you were dating Tara, I always felt invisible to you. I felt like you saw me as just one of the guys. You started to become distant to me, so I started spending more time with Opie. It seemed like every time you paid even a little bit of attention to me, Tara would snatch it away. It got to the point, where I started avoiding you, to keep myself from getting hurt.” Katrina confesses.

Jax winces at her words. He hates himself for how he hurt her, even though that was never his intention. In his mind, he was trying to protect her and their friendship, by avoiding what his heart yearned for. “I am so sorry, Kat. I never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to bury my feelings for you because I was afraid. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way towards me and I’d ruin our friendship. I didn’t want to lose you. You have no idea how much I regret those decisions.” Jax sincerely apologizes. He takes Katrina’s hand into his and looks into her eyes. The years of pain and hurt shine in her eyes and he feels heartbroken that he caused some of that pain.

“Yeah, well, that’s all in the past.” Katrina tries to brush it off. She still feels the sting of all those memories, even if it feels like a lifetime ago.

“What if we gave us a shot?” Jax asks, hopefulness in voice. He has vowed to himself that if the opportunity ever came up to be with Kat, that he wouldn’t hesitate.

Katrina looks at Jax in surprise at his question. She feels butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of finally getting what she had always wanted. To finally be with the man that she has been in love with most of her life, but another part of her feels cautious. “I don’t know, Jax. A lot has changed since we were kids. We’re not the same people we were back then. We’ve both changed. Hell, you’re a father now, and VP of SAMCRO.” Katrina is trying to rationalize in her head why this is a bad idea, even though her heart is pounding with excitement. The alcohol running through her veins isn't helping the situation.

“Come on Kat. We both have feelings for each other. I know the first time I laid eyes on you, when you got back into town, I felt butterflies in my stomach. All of those old feelings I had for you came rushing back. I can’t stop thinking about you, and how much I want you in my life.” Jax pleads with her. He has never wanted something as bad as this. To make a life with Kat by his side.

Katrina hesitates to give Jax an answer. This isn’t something to just rush into, especially with her alcohol hazed brain. She needs some time to think this through. She is supposed to be getting out of Charming, not tying herself down. She can’t help but be concerned about Vince. What if he tries to track her down. As much as she hopes that he’ll take the hint, that she’s not coming back, she can’t help but fear that he won’t be so willing to let her go. Even though she has no doubt that Jax will do everything in his power to protect her, she doesn’t feel it should have to be his problem.

“Jax, it’s not that easy. We both have other things going on in our lives. There’s no guarantee that us being together will even work.” Katrina tries to dissuade him. She doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something that may just be a pipe dream.

“At least we could try. If it doesn’t work then so be it, but I can’t live with the what ifs and could have beens without at least giving it a chance.” Jax tries his best to convince her. If he has to get down on his knees and beg he’s not afraid to do it.

“Maybe we should think this though. Preferably when we’re both not drunk.” A part of Kat wants to say yes….god yes… but she also doesn’t want to agree to something she might regret.

Jax is a little disappointed in Kat’s hesitation, but at least she hasn't said no yet. There may be hope.

Katrina gets up from her chair, her legs feel a bit wobbly. “I should probably head home, it’s getting late.”

“Like hell, you are” Jax replies a little too sharply, while grabbing the keys to her bike off the table. He rises from his seat to face her.

Katrina stares daggers at Jax, a little miffed at his tone. If he thinks he can control her and what she does, he’s got another think coming.

Jax quickly realizes how that came across. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out that way. It’s just, we’ve both been drinking…a lot. You’ve pretty much matched me shot for shot. I wouldn’t feel safe getting on my bike right now, and I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to either. I’d hate to wake up in the morning, and find out that you wrapped your bike around a tree or something. You should probably crash here tonight.” Jax tries to explain.

Katrina is a little relieved at Jax explanation. It makes sense, although she’s not sure its a great idea to spend the night at the club house.

Jax approaches Kat, the draw of being near her to great to deny. He gently places his hand on her check, the memory of the bruise around her eye flashes across his mind. His thumb lightly caresses her check bone, but when there is no flinch from her, he is relieved that the wound has healed. He still feels that flash of anger that anyone would dare to raise a hand to her. He slowly lowers his lips to hers, aching to feel their softness against his. He has longed to kiss her for as long as he can remember.

Katrina is a little nervous at Jax’s closeness, but her body is quick to respond despite the warnings in her mind. When she feels Jax’s lips against hers an excitement courses through her veins. The feel of his velvety lips against hers was almost as intoxicating as the whiskey they have been drinking. Jax’s hands start slowly sliding down Katrina’s neck then around to her back, where he gently coaxes her into an embrace. Her body melds to his like it was made for it.

As the kiss deepens, warning bells go off in Katrina’s head. Her rational mind warns her that she should stop this from going any further, but years of pent up longing urge her to keep going. Katrina is swept up in the smells of leather, smoke and light cologne, with a hint of vanilla that seemed uniquely Jax. Before she realizes what is happening, she feels Jax’s hands lightly caress the sides of her breasts before traveling down her waist to rest on her hips. He draws her hips in closer to his and she can feel the evidence of his arousal. His breathing gets heavier, and Katrina feels the butterflies in her stomach.

Even though in her mind she knew this was a bad idea, Jax was like a drug, and she was jonesing for a hit. There was a passion between her and Jax that she had never felt with Vince. Maybe it was because it had been building since their youth. The feelings they had been holding back finally able to be explored. Katrina gives as much as she takes, returning Jax’s kiss with a fever of her own. She lightly rubs the tip of her tongue on Jax’s lips until he grants her access to his mouth. She hears his groan as he starts grinding his erection into her stomach. Jax starts guiding her to his dorm room without breaking the kiss. By the time they enter the room, they are both breathing heavily. Jax kicks the door shut with his foot, not wanting to break contact with Kat.

Katrina reaches for Jax’s belt intent on releasing it as she starts to kneel down in front of him. Jax grabs her arms and lifts her back up. “As much as I’d love to see your beautiful face going down on me, I want tonight to be all about you. I want to show you how strong my feelings are for you.” Jax expresses to her.

This is a new experience for Katrina, and she can’t help but feel a little excited about it. When she was with Vince, it was all about what he wanted and how he wanted it. Often times it seemed their lovemaking was very one sided, with her left feeling unsatisfied. Like she was just a toy for his pleasure.

Jax cups Katrina’s face and gives her another soul searing kiss. She can’t get enough of the taste and feel of his lips on hers. His hands wander down to the hem of her shirt and he gently lifts it up. They break the kiss long enough to get the shirt over her head. Jax then goes after Katrina’s belt, pulling it loose from its buckle, then he quickly releases the button on her dark jeans. He slowly slides her jeans down her legs then ghosts his fingers over her panty clad pussy. He smiles when he hears her sharp intake of breath. Katrina toes off her boots then slides the jeans off the rest of the way.

Jax takes a step back to take in Kat’s beauty while he kicks off his own shoes. Her black bra and panties compliment her tanned skin. He takes off his kutte and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair. The question of whether Katrina has more ink finally being answered. He has seen the tattoos on her arms, but now he’s seeing a large dreamcatcher on one of her sides and a colorful feather on the other. There is a black crow with a purple background on her collarbone and an angry wolf surrounded by roses on her thigh. He can’t help but admire the art adorning her body and is surprised that he finds himself getting even more aroused seeing it.

Jax guides Katrina to the bed where she sits on the edge and watches as he removes his pants and white t-shirt. He tosses them onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Jax approaches her in just his boxers not bothering to hide the fact that his cock is straining against the material. He tilts her face up for a quick kiss before his lips and tongue start wandering down her neck. He can’t help himself as he leaves a small hickey just above her collarbone. Jax caresses her breasts over the fabric of her bra, before reaching around to unclasp it and watching in awe as her perfect breasts are exposed. He takes one nipple into his mouth sucking and using his tongue to tease it into a peak, while he lightly caresses the other bud. His gently pinches and rolls her exposed nipple with his calloused fingers until it hardens and becomes sensitive. He then laves the other nipple with his tongue, sucking until he feels Kat squirm. Kat feels a tingling sensation travel from her stomach to her core. She can feel wetness gathering in her panties.

Jax lightly pushes on Katrina’s shoulders, encouraging her to lay back on the bed. Settling between her thighs he continues to lavish her body with attention, kissing and licking his way down to her panties. He starts rubbing her clit lightly through her underwear, just enough to cause her to squirm towards his hand. Her breathing becomes erratic, hitching every time his fingers touches the right spot. He can sense a bit of frustration from her at his teasing, causing his lips to curl into a smirk. Finally Jax runs his fingers along the top edge of her panties, slowly pulling them down her thighs, and leaving a trail of kisses and licks in their wake.

That first flick of Jax’s tongue on Katrina’s clit causes an explosion of sensations coursing through her body. She can’t remember the last time someone went down on her, making this time feel like the first time. Jax’s warm breath, and the feel of his whiskers rubbing on her most sensitive area threatening to send her over the edge. Jax can sense her body tensing up, like a coil ready to snap, so he starts kissing the inside of her thighs to give her a chance calm. Once her breathing returns to some semblance of normal he focuses his attention back on her core. The light ghosting of his tongue in her folds and around that little bundle of nerves feels like heaven to Kat. It doesn’t last long though. Jax quickly starts licking and sucking her bud like a man starved for water.

“God baby, you taste like honey to me, and I can’t get enough.” Jax praises her between breaths, as he laps up her juices.

It takes everything inside of Kat not to lose control. She runs her fingers through Jax’s hair as he continues his assault on her clit. His tongue then prodding her slit, going directly to the source of her sweetness. Katrina’s moans increase, and Jax’s name becomes a silent prayer. She then feels his finger teasing at her entrance. Lightly caressing through her folds, gathering moisture before sliding the slender digit inside her. He pumps his finger in and out, surprised at how tight she is. The feeling of her walls clenching on his finger sending a fresh surge of arousal straight to his already straining cock. He could tell the tip of it was already leaking pre-cum. Jax adds another finger inside her to help prepare her for what’s to come. He twists his fingers around and starts doing a come hither motion. Jax quickly finds that little bundle of nerves inside her that will probably be her undoing. He can feel her clench around his fingers and her thighs start to squeeze. Kat starts pulling his hair as he continues licking her clit and rubbing that hidden gem inside her. He can tell Kat is getting close to her release by her ragged breathing and the tightening of her muscles.

“Fuck, Jax, don’t stop.” Katrina manages between shuddering breaths. She can feel the knots in her stomach unraveling. Her impending orgasm right on the cusp of sending her over the edge. Her moans get louder the closer she gets.

“It’s ok baby, you can let go.” Jax encourages her. “Cum for me. Give me some more of that sweet nectar.”

That is her undoing. Jax’s husky voice beckoning her to release the flood gates. Wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over her. Her vision starts to fade and she is seeing stars. Her body shudders and her juices dribble straight into Jax’s waiting mouth. Jax laps every bit of it up as he slows the movement of his fingers. He tries to ease her down from her climax before removing his fingers.

When Kat’s breathing returns to normal she looks down at Jax’s smiling face. The evidence of her release glistening on he mustache and beard. Jax gently withdraws his fingers from inside her pussy, and she instantly feels a void. “I need you inside me.” There is a hunger in her eyes as Kat pleads to Jax. She wants…no needs, more.

Jax stands up and removes his boxers, finally unleashing the beast. Katrina is a little taken back by the size of his cock. She had no idea he was packing that much heat. Explains the loose fitting jeans. She feels a rush of excitement, and maybe a little bit of fear that it’s going to hurt. Jax sees her concern and reminds himself to take it slow, give her some time to adjust. She is nothing like the crow-eaters he’s fucked, girls that have taken so many dicks it a wonder they can feel anything.

“Do you have a condom?” Katrina timidly asks, suddenly nervous. Jax has already produced one son, she doesn’t want to take any chances that tonights actions result in another.

“Yeah, I do.” Jax can’t help but feel a little bummed about not being able to experience her pussy bareback, but he understands. He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a little foil package. Katrina watches in fascination as he tears it open with his teeth and pulls out the rubber. Jax strokes his straining cock a couple times then rolls the condom down from the tip to the base.

Katrina scoots up the bed giving Jax room to join her. He settles between her legs and pulls her face in for another passionate kiss. He then guides his cock to her core rubbing the head along her folds, gathering her wetness to help ease his passage. He lines himself up and slowly pushes his cock into her wet slit, going an inch at a time. He slowly rocks his hips back and forth, gaining an inch each time he pushes forward. When he finally bottoms out, he pauses for a moment, giving Kat time to adjust to his girth. When Jax stops, Katrina releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She has never felt this full before. There is a slight burning from the stretch in her pussy, as well as an intense pleasure at the fullness.

“Relax your muscles, baby. It’ll help.” Jax whispers in her ear, concern in his tone.

After a few calming breaths, Kat feels ready for him to start moving again. She tilts her pelvis towards him, and then gives him a slight nod. Jax sets a slow pace at the beginning. The feeling of her tight, constricting walls threatening to send him over the edge. He feels like a damn teenager, ready to blow his load after only a few quick pumps. It takes every ounce of his control to prevent that from happening.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” Jax whispers almost reverently. He’s trying to stay in control, but he feels it slipping fast as he picks up the pace. Thrusting in and out, fast and faster. His balls crashing against her ass, as her walls clench around him. The tip of his cock brushing against her cervix each time he bottoms out.

Katrina feels the knot in her stomach growing. Every time Jax trusts into her pussy a tingle travels down her spine and straight into her core. She can feel her climax quickly approaching. She wraps her arms around his chest, her nails digging into his back. The moans coming from her mouth getting louder and louder each time his cock brushes against her sweet spot.

Jax can feel her tightening around him, and he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer. “It’s ok, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Jax reaches down to her clit, rubbing circles over it with his thumb.

Katrina is plunging over the edge as another intense orgasm rips through her body. Every nerve ending in her body is tingling as her juices coat Jax’s dick and balls. She clings to Jax’s body as she rides out the high. Jax follows her after a few more thrusts, a wave of euphoria washing over his body as his cock releases rope after rope of warm cum. Jax collapses next to her on the bed, then he draws her into his embrace. His twitching cock still nestled in her depths. They both lay there for a moment trying to catch their breath.

“That was amazing.” Jax says in awe, his breathing still labored. His fantasies of her never even coming close to the bliss he just experienced.

Katrina nods her agreement, exhaustion claiming her body. She nestles into Jax’s warmth as he squeezes her against him. Jax kisses the top of her head, as a feeling of contentment washes over him. He doesn’t want this night to end.

After a few minutes the twitching of Jax’s cock subsides and it begins to soften. He wraps his hand around the base of it to hold the condom in place as he withdraws it from Kat’s warm depths. Even as sleep starts to claim Kat, she can’t help the groan that escapes her mouth at the loss of the fullness in her pussy. Jax chuckles a little at the pout now gracing her face. He disposes of the condom in the trash, before heading into the bathroom to clean up. Once he is done cleaning himself, he returns to the bed with a warm washcloth to gently clean Kat. She flinches a little when he wipes around her sensitive bud. He has no doubt that she’s going to be a little sore tomorrow. When he finishes with the washcloth, he tosses it into a nearby laundry basket, before turning off the light. He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over them. Katrina seeks out his warmth again, resting her head on his chest as his arm wraps around her back drawing her close. Sleep quickly claims both of them.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Tagging: @momc95 @jerseynurse82

#redwood original #reaper crew #SAMCRO #soa #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfic #jax teller imagine #jax teller smut #jax teller

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imaginesupply · 4 years ago

Text

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {Epilogue}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Fluff,

Words: 2.2k

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

NOTE: DO NOT COME FOR ME. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the public ripped Chris a new asshole when the odds seemed ever not in his favor, they massacred Ana once the facts were revealed. When it came out just how low Ana had gone in her efforts to get your husband, the world turned into a colder place. The tabloids ran endless pieces on what a horrible person she was. They were relentless when it came to nitpicking not just her behavior and actions, but they even went in on her acting. You could have said you felt bad for her, but you didn’t. Not one bit.

The support that came out for you and Chris was heartwarming. Everyone seemed to want to wrap the two of you in a cocoon of support and love. You received well-wishes from fans and supporters, and even celebs sent floral arrangements, all expressing their support for you. The narrative that was spun was the diabolical plot of Ana and jilted ex Christiano who concocted a plot that was to end with Ana getting Chris and Christiano kidnapping you. Most of the details were released to the press, though you and Chris had both tried to keep as much of it under wraps as possible. Neither one of you wanted to continue dealing with it. You just wanted to move forward and focus on better things—happier things.

Because Christiano had broken into your home and attempted to cause harm to its residents, Chris’s actions were seen as self-defense, and Chrisnao’s death ruled an accidental result of self-defense. Though the White family were distraught once they were faced with the severity of Christiano’s actions and continued plans, they didn’t have the heart to put you through any further trauma. You’d suspected it was Christina’s doing, and a floral arrangement from her a few weeks after the incident proved your suspicions.

You’d been friends with her first, and it was a friendship that survived the end of your relationship with Christiano. This was her way of letting it be known that her brother did wrong. A month after the incident, her statement shed light on Christiano’s mental health and revealed he’d been struggling for several years since the break-up. She made no apologies for his actions and didn’t try to make him seem like a victim. She was adamant about letting the full truth be seen. She did offer an apology to you, Chris, your families, and your children.

For her part in the plot, her actions of physically trying to kill you, not knowing you pregnant at the time, was what sealed Ana’s fate. She was sentenced to jail, and it wasn’t entirely the sentence of a privileged woman. It was one of a criminal who showed no remorse for their actions. She was given nine years behind bars, and because she was living and working in the US on a visa rather than citizenship, after the completion of her sentence, she would be deported to Spain.

Even film studios were distancing themselves from her at record speed. All the roles she had been considered for quickly changed their views and voiced wanting you to have the roles. It was sort of poetic to you. She hated you because you were black, and you didn’t deserve all you had, including your career and husband. In the end, she was the absolute furthest from your husband, and now everything that was hers would be yours.

You and Chris were on a flight to Massachusetts two days after the incident. Neither of you were suspects; there was no reason for you to remain in LA, so you quietly packed up what you wanted and made arrangements to pack up the house for the foreseeable future, then went where both of you felt like you belonged. You left any details about your career plans to your manager to close. Everyone seemed to understand the want you had to step back from work and Hollywood, especially when the news was out that you were going to be parents.

That was the only thing Chris seemed to care about. He was on a mission to keep you comfortable, happy, and taken care of. From the minute he carried you over the threshold of the home he’d built for you, it felt like a fresh start, a new beginning meant just for the five of you.

He was there beside you every morning, patting your back as you vomited because of your morning sickness until you were four and a half months along. He was there for every single appointment. He read every book you did to prepare for the remainder of your pregnancy and life with twins. He was there preparing you lunch every afternoon, there massaging your feet and back at the end of every night. He was there to lather on the cocoa and shea butter to your growing belly. He was there to compliment every stretch mark you received because of your quickly stretching skin. He was there to kiss each of them while telling you how much he loved each and every tiger stripe, as he called them. He was even there for you when none of your clothes fit you, and he offered you all his cable-knit sweaters, hoodies, sweatpants, and button-downs.

When your belly became so big you couldn’t see your feet; he put your shoes on for you. When you couldn’t get up without looking like a beached whale, Chris was there to carry you wherever you wanted to go. There rarely went an hour that went by where he didn’t strip you to worship your body as if you were his scripture, and he worshiped you and you alone. Not a day passed where you didn’t feel loved, desired, and protected.

Through it all, you decided that therapy was beneficial and a powerful enough tool to bring you back together that you wanted to continue. Dr. Danquah was thrilled having the two of you as clients again and, because of your progress, saw no need for you to see her more than twice a month to keep the lines of communication and the roots of love and passion ever strong. The love you felt for Chris and the connection you felt to each other only deepened throughout your pregnancy.

Just when you thought you couldn’t love him anymore, he did something to prove you wrong. Every day you found something more to love. If it wasn’t his fun-loving nature that was on display every time he played with Dodger, it was his outdoorsy adventurism with the way he bounded from the bed once the sun rose to drag you on another of his nature walks so he could photograph the trees or the hills. If it wasn’t his romantic side with how he prepared candlelit baths every night that posed as a prequel to dinner by candlelight and the most passionate session of lovemaking, it was his undercover, not so undercover freak antics with him wanting to christen every single room in the house and a few spots outdoors with your lovemaking. At nights when he thought you were sleeping, you heard him talking to the babies as he caressed your stomach. That was what you loved most. His sheer love, devotion, and adoration for his children and the strong protector that resided in him. he was the only one for you.

“Push Riah.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to push. You push!”

Chris snorted, and you wanted to kill him. His hands rubbed your belly before he kissed your jaw from his position behind you in the tub in your bathroom.

“I can push with you, but you have the babies in you. You have to show them the way.”

You groaned, and it echoed in the hallowed bathroom.

“You can do this, Uriah,” Lisa encouraged, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze.

You looked across to your mother, who nodded, hoping to steel your nerve. Chris kissed your ear.

“Come on, dragonfly. You got this. Bring our babies into the world so we can spoil them.”

And you can change all the poop diapers?”

Chris snorted again. “I don’t recall making any such promise.”

You squeezed his hand with everything you had. He groaned and hissed from the pain.

“Ah, ah, wow. Okay, I see my error. Yes, all poop diapers that you don’t want.” You released his hand, letting him relax somewhat.

“Use that, baby. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts, and I’m sorry.”

“This is your fault,” you pointedly accused.

“Yes. My fault. I take full blame. I’m sorry.”

“You owe me so big for this, Evans.”

He nodded, agreeing with you. that was when the pain intensified at levels that made you regret choosing a natural birth at home.

“Oh fuckity, fuck. So big, Evans!”

“You’re crowning. Do you want to come over here and catch your baby, dad?”

Chris moved from behind you and got into position between your legs. His eyes widened, clearly seeing the baby’s head. The excitement around you was palpable, and it gave you a burst of energy to get the baby out. You grabbed your knees, hunkered down, and pushed because whether you were supposed to or not. Your scream was loud, and the screams of those around you picked up. They shouted to you, encouraging you to keep going and not to stop. The look on Chris's face suddenly changed, and you saw the tears in his eyes.

“Oh my god, Riah, I can—I can see—oh baby, I can see a face. come on, Dragonfly, one more push.”

You screeched out and fought through the intense burning you felt, and in seconds the crying of a baby echoed in the bathroom.

“Aah, oh my god, Riah, it’s a girl. She’s here,” Chris elated as tears rolled down his cheeks.

You smiled widely as Chris held your daughter and cut her umbilical cord before he placed her on your chest.

“Oh my god!”

She was perfect, with a full head of hair that was the color of Chris’s and cheeks so plump you were tempted to pinch them. You only had a moment to place a kiss on her forehead before you felt another stab of pain that made you shout again. The second midwife took the baby from you so you could focus on pushing out her sister.

“She’s right there, Uriah. You’re doing incredible, baby,” your mother informed.

“I’m thinking three good pushes, Uriah. When you feel the urge, push.

You instantly felt the urge to push and returned to your previous position and pushed as hard as you could. This push was just as painful as the first one, but you felt this push accomplished more.

“Good push, her head is out. One more, and she’ll be out,” your first midwife said.

The look on everyone's face was one of anxiety and excitement. The sounds of your first daughter’s cries had died down, and the only thing that could be heard in the room was your panting, screeching, and grunting.

“Fuuuuuck!”

You managed to push your daughter out, and her cries filled the bathroom. Soon, it was not one baby crying but both of them.

“You did it!”

Lisa and your mother both kissed your cheeks and forehead, happily congratulating you and telling you how well you’d done while the midwives cleaned the babies to bring them to you. When Chris came up beside you, your mothers backed away, giving you a few moments together. Chris kissed your forehead.

“You’re incredible. You did so good, dragonfly. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you once, then twice, and nuzzled his nose against yours.

“I love you so much.”

“Did someone order two perfect babies?”

The midwives placed your daughters in your arms.

“This is baby A; she was born first and her sister.”

Your tears flowed freely as so much emotion filled you. Love in it’s purest form washed over you.

“Chris. They’re beautiful.”

“Of course they are. They look just like you,” Chris said, kissing your temple.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you admired your newborn daughters.

“Any decision on names?”

You smiled and ran your thumb across the baby’s brow in your arm.

“Yeah. How do you feel about Nova and Rae?”

Chris’s face lit up as his smile spread so wide that you wondered if his face would split in two.

“I love them. Nova and Rae Evans,” he uttered. You nodded and couldn’t help but choke up, seeing the emotion on his face.

“Chasing dragonflies,” he whispered the meanings of the names you’d discussed weeks ago before his lips met yours for a tender kiss.

With his forehead pressed to yours, he whispered again. “Rumor has it you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled and looked at him before pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss. “Rumor has it you’re a DILF.”

Chris laughed so loud it startled your babies, making them stir and cry. You joined in laughing with him, unable to keep your sublime happiness under wraps any longer.

“Rumor has it you two will have siblings in record time,” Lisa said slightly above a whisper.

Everyone in the room laughed, not knowing how true those were most likely were. You and Chris gazed at each other with longing and love in your eyes. When Chris kissed you again, this time taking his time to do it properly, completely and heartily, you knew his mother’s words would be the truest spoken.

The End!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @caplover22 @caramara3 @southerngracela @cyntgefel01 @vannahvannahhh @lorainnebabyy @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @pennywisesmistress @theblulife @kelbabyblue @bugngiz @kikimiyazaki @toniilaney @areubeingserved @chaos-crusader @thinkxlovexloud @cocothewriter @periodtcevans @bellaamor88 @mack-jay @titty-teetee @pananegra @wellthirsted @sup3rn0va13 @nova3312 @hello-therree @valkyriesnymph @squeackygee @niyashell @allmonstersxarehuman @zsuzstyina @peggy-potts @amelatonin @lvlyab @sullyosully @taylorveebee @renesmeeharelds @capslut2014 @ilovehatembj @thelittlemoistcarrot @sarcastic-sunshines @a-dizzle777 @taylorveebee @jesseswartzwelder @90sinspiredgirl @allnamesicouldthinkofweretaken @choices97 @jd-now-jq @actorinfluence @chrisgalore @rynabarnesrogers @ab-baybay @motivation-idontknowher @lo-cheu @builtalongthewaysi @momobaby227@drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish

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@imthatbitchsworld @soul–notforsale @toni9 @someone-really-bored @venustrap04 @chrisevansdaddycap @kittykatlow @live-laugh-love-ki @asiaaisa77 @melanicia @fistmetonystark @livinglifeformemyselfandi @crowngold @allnamesicouldthinkofweretaken @lost- ssoull @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @shar74nett @cltex84 @badbitchhtown @petty-bitch-akira @unknownmystery22 @raveviolet @madixii @almosttherebutnot @rainbowkisses31 @smediumsmeatbae @bernie-k @nina1800 @nervousninjatheorist @lo-cheu @creole-mami @acciolove724 @shipatheart @captainchrisstan @ramp-it-up @bforbbgirl @brownskinafro @jhayes6984 @badbo1-evans @msblkfire84 @jovanaprime @poshgirl2 @marvelatthis30 @littlepreciousangel @youremysuperstar @alookintohersoul @cleopatra-knowles @xsweetdellzx @cxmfort @i-just-like-fanfics @storiestoldbyjazz @jennmurawski13 @imthewarmpenguininthemiddle @ak329

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. Please check that you are taggable. I’m sorry.***

#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #black fanfiction #chris evans x ofc uriah

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woah-were-halfway-there · 4 years ago

Text

Just What I Needed: Part 3

A/N: get ready for this freaking rollercoaster. As many of you know, this is the next part in the AFTR series and in typical me fashion, turn out way longer than I intended it to be. Enjoy. ☺️

Thank you my dear @andrei-svech for beta reading and listening to me yell about this.

Word Count: 12.8k... ffs

You knew you were awake. You sensed too much going on for you not to be, and yet, you still were unable to open your eyes.

"Do you know how far along she is in her pregnancy?" A female voice you didn't recognize spoke up, sounding much louder than the various beeps and shuffles you also heard.

"14 weeks," Auston replied, his voice husky. The way his voice sounded whenever he was really upset about something. "Closer to 15 weeks now. Do you know what caused this?"

"Fainting isn't uncommon with pregnant women," a male voice stated. "Dehydration, drops in blood pressure, there's a couple of different reasons as to why this could have happened. We won't know for sure, what exactly, until she sees a doctor."

"I'm more concerned over the fact that she hasn't woken up yet," the woman said.

That's when you decided you needed to open your eyes, and as soon as you did, your gaze fell on Auston.

He looked rough, and that's putting it nicely. His hair was messy, it was evident that he'd been running his hands through it like he always does when he's anxious, and his eyes were red and puffy. He was gripping onto your right hand as he watched another man and woman that were also in the small space as they did something off in a corner.

It was then you realized the man and woman were paramedics, and you were lying on a stretcher in an ambulance. Panic didn't take too long settling in after that.

"Auston?" Your voice cracked as you went stiff in realization and immediately gripped onto his hand for reassurance, his gaze moving to you right away. "Wait. Where's Mia?"

You went to sit up, suddenly on high alert after realizing your daughter wasn't with you but had to stop when you felt the now-familiar wave of lightheadedness wash over you again.

"Woah, take it easy, baby," Auston said as he gave you a look, silently pleading that you didn't fight him on this. You didn't. Instead, you slowly laid back down because you trusted that he would answer your question once you weren't so worked up, and he did. "Mia is ok. She's at home with my family. My parents are going to meet us at the hospital once you get checked over. I asked them to stay at the house to make sure Mia was ok after everything."

You nodded in response. What he said made you feel better in a way, but you were unable to keep your emotions from taking over still.

"Did she see me faint?" You asked quietly, blinking back the tears you felt welling up in your eyes as you did.

Auston paused, then sighed.

"She did."

"Shit."

Before Auston could respond again, and you could get too in your thoughts, the female paramedic approached the two of you cautiously and cleared her throat. Once you looked at her, she smiled softly before looking to Auston and nodding.

"Hi, Y/N," she greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great," you admitted as Auston lifted your hand that was still linked with his up to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles. "Tired. Kind of just want to be back home, to be completely honest."

"That's understandable. We're almost at the hospital. As soon as a doctor sees you and makes sure everything is ok, you should be able to go home very soon."

You smiled and nodded at her reassurance.

"Thank you. How long was I passed out for?"

"We weren't very far from your house when we got the call for you," the male paramedic chimed in. "Auston said you fainted, maybe five or six minutes before we got there. So about twenty minutes, give or take."

"Lovely," you sighed, then looked at Auston tiredly.

"You scared the shit out of me," he told you, not in a way to make you feel bad, but to let you know how genuinely worried he was about you. "Mia is probably pissed at me right now."

"Why would she be?"

"When she saw you faint, she was worried about you, but I panicked. I asked Bre to take her out of the room so she wouldn't have to see you like that, and she was so upset, babe. She was still crying when we left the house."

Your heart broke hearing that. Not only at the thought of Mia being upset after seeing you faint, but also how hard the entire situation must've been on Auston and his family.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, not being able to stop the tears welling in your eyes again. "I-I should've just gone to the hospital earlier when my doctor said she couldn't get me in until tomorrow. I knew something was wrong. I had that feeling, fuck!"

"Y/N, you had no way of knowing this is what would happen. Please don't be so hard on yourself," he reasoned with you while giving your hand another little squeeze. "I, uh, I kind of dropped a bomb on everyone too."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't how we wanted anyone to find out, but, in my panicked state, my mom was trying to calm me down, and without even thinking, I told her that you were pregnant again."

"To be fair, it's best that you did because we needed to know to be able to tend to her properly," the male paramedic spoke up again. "And, sorry to interrupt, but we are approaching the hospital."

"You ready?" Auston asked and reached towards you to gently push your hair out of your face. He then tried to give you a reassuring smile, although you could easily see through his facade.

It was apparent that he was as anxious as you were, but he had already been so brave and strong for you. The least you could do was be the same for him.

"As long as I have you by my side, I'm ready for anything."

Once you were taken into the hospital, it wasn't long before you were seeing a doctor. She was a lovely woman, but you couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable because you hated going to the hospital. You much preferred going to your own doctor. You always felt comfortable with her regardless of the situation, whereas anything else felt foreign. But luckily, you had Auston there.

At first, the E.R. doctor was a little confused by what would've caused your fainting. She was able to see how your last doctor's appointment went and that you seemed to be in perfect health. She then read how low your blood pressure was from when the paramedics checked it in the ambulance while you were still passed out. That was pretty concerning.

She explained to you and Auston that your fainting could've been caused by Dehydration, which was most common, but she wanted to test your blood to see if anything else came up. And sure enough, something did.

The doctor was able to get you a rapid test, so about half an hour after she finished taking some blood, she came back into the room and explained that your blood had a lower than average amount of red blood cells, which is tied to iron deficiency. In other words, you were diagnosed with anemia.

Being told that absolutely terrified you. It was the last thing you wanted to hear, and with the way Auston was physically pale when you glanced over at him, you could tell he was feeling the same way.

However, the doctor then explained how your anemia was more than likely just related to your pregnancy. It was more than likely that it would no longer be an issue once your baby was born, but it did pose some possible negative effects on the baby if not treated properly.

Your chances of having a premature birth, a baby with low birth weight, as well as postpartum depression, were much higher because of this. Again, not something you or Auston wanted to hear, but the doctor quickly said how the addition of an iron supplement with your prenatal vitamins should help keep things relatively at bay. She said it was likely that you may still feel dizziness, fatigue and other symptoms at times throughout your pregnancy, but keeping your iron levels up would help that. She then told you to see your doctor still the following day and said to take things easy before running a quick ultrasound to check on the baby.

Roughly an hour and a half after you arrived at the hospital, you were allowed to finally go back home, which was the best news you'd heard all night.

Not many words were exchanged between you and Auston as the two of you sat in the waiting room until his parents got there to pick you both up. There wasn't much that could be said. The two of you were still processing everything you had just been told, and it was a damn hard pill to swallow. So, instead of talking about it, the two of you sat in silence. You leaned against each other for the support neither of you could give verbally at the time.

The moment Ema and Brian entered the emergency room, you broke down. You knew, as a mother herself, Ema would understand how you were feeling, and it was not long before she was rushing over to you and Auston, then pulling you into her embrace.

Auston was the one to explain the news as you just cried it out a little bit, while Ema let you hold onto her. She kept assuring that everything was going to be ok, but for the first time in a long time, you were almost positive it wasn't.

That feeling of dread you already had was much more prominent than before, and now Auston was feeling something similar as well.

You both apologized to his parents for them finding out about the new baby the way that they did, but Brian quickly shut that down by telling you and Auston that it didn't matter how they found out. All that mattered was that you were ok, and so was the baby.

Neither of you could argue with that, and soon after, the four of you agreed it was time to go home and headed to the car.

When you all got back to the house, you were surprised to learn that Mia was asleep. It was close to an hour before her usual bedtime, but after you and Auston walked through the front and entered the living room, you found her passed out while laying against Alex on the couch.

"She just fell asleep," Auston's older sister spoke quietly as she greeted you both with a small smile and started gently rubbing Mia's head. "She was so exhausted. I didn't have the heart even to try to keep her awake."

"No, it's ok. Thank you," you replied softly, but before you could say anything else, Bre was bursting into the room and pulling you into a hug.

"Oh, my god, Y/N," she said as you hugged her back, then pulled away to look at you again. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

"Better now that I'm home with you guys," you told her, then bent down to pet Frank, who was looking up at you excitedly.

As you talked with her, Auston hung both of your coats up in the foyer's closet before coming back into the living room and gently picking up Mia.

Even in her sleeping state, Mia cuddled right up against her dad as he held her against his chest and your heart swelled when he turned back to look at you and Bre.

"I'll go put her to bed," he whispered, trying hard not to wake her up. But, before he walked past you and Bre, he stopped when he saw you looking at Mia. You smiled at him thankfully, because you knew that he stopped so you could kiss Mia goodnight, like you always did.

When you looked at her all snuggled in Auston's arms as she slept, you could feel yourself getting emotional. Immediately, you noticed how her eyes were still a little wet from what you assumed was her crying, which absolutely broke your heart. You hated that with everything you went through that night, Mia also suffered from it and some way. However, as you felt yourself beginning to get worked up over it, you took a deep breath to let yourself calm down, then leaned in to push some of Mia's little curls away from her face and placed a soft peck on her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby girl," you said quietly, then looked to Auston before reaching up to peck his lips too. "I love you."

"And I love you," he responded before kissing you again then glancing at his two sisters. "I'll be right back."

You watched him leave the room, then you and Bre joined Alex on the couch and began properly catching up, seeing as you hadn't been able to do that yet.

The two of them, along with Ema and Brian, were thrilled about the news about you being pregnant, which you knew they would be, but you were still really bummed over how they found out about their new family member. However, no one dwelled on that at all or pressed you about what you were told at the hospital. Instead, you were able to cuddle on the couch with your husband as you watched ELF with his family before eventually calling it a night.

~*~

The following day, Christmas Eve Eve, was rather hectic. But not necessarily in a bad way.

When you woke up, no one else was awake yet. The house was quiet, and there was no sound coming from Mia's room through the monitor. All that could be heard was the small breaths Auston let out as he slept next to you and the groan Frank made as he shifted his position from where he laid at the end of your bed.

Everything was peaceful and felt right. It was exactly what you needed after everything that happened the night before, but that soon changed.

As you waited for a sign of someone else being awake, you reached over to grab your phone from where it rested on your bedside table and opened up Twitter. You were scrolling for all of three seconds before realizing that 'Auston Matthews' was trending.

Curious about what could be trending regarding your husband, you clicked on a thread to see what it was all about. Surprisingly, a lot of it was about you.

It turned out that your trip to the hospital the night before didn't go unnoticed. A handful of tweets said how you and Auston were seen at Toronto Western Hospital, including one saying how the two of you arrived in an ambulance and how you were on a stretcher.

The majority of the tweets were people commenting, wondering what happened, and wishes that everything was ok. But, there were also some downright mean ones. Some people commented on your appearance, saying that you looked awful and how you were lucky to be Canadian; otherwise, Auston would've probably been covering the hospital bill.

Usually, you never paid attention to anything that was being said about you. These people knew nothing about your life and were indeed in no position to be saying anything, which you knew, but reading those things made you feel like shit. And you hated that you were actually letting them get to you.

But, soon enough, someone diverted your attention.

"Baby?" Auston asked, sounding very sleepy as he shifted next to you but still managing to make you jump at the sudden noise. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," you lied and quickly closed out of the app before moving to face him. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a little flustered."

"Yes, babe, it's nothing to worry about."

"Ok," he responded unsurely, but dropped it as he subtly wrapped his arm around your waist then pulled towards him forcefully.

"Auston!" You gasped as you gripped onto his shoulder with one hand and bicep with the other so you could balance yourself out, but quickly realized he did that so you'd be hovering over him with very little space between the two of you. "Smooth."

"Always," he replied with a smirk, then began placing kisses along your shoulder, collarbone and neck.

He didn't stop until he reached your jawline and was able to see how much what he was doing affected you in the best way possible as your eyes fluttered close and you leaned into his touch. Feeling rather smug with himself, he then put his arm around your waist again and quickly flipped the two of you over so that your back would be on the mattress and he would be on top.

As soon as you looked up at him, he gave you a playful smirk and was about to continue, but then a noise began filling the room.

"Mama?" Mia's voice sounded through the monitor resting on Auston's bedside table as you and him both froze and looked towards the device. Sounds of shuffling and the odd grumble could be heard, making it rather apparent that your daughter was awake, but then she started crying. "Mommy!"

"Shit," you and Auston said at the same time as you both scrambled off the bed then rushed down the hall to Mia's bedroom, even gaining enough of Frank's attention that he followed after the two of you.

Once you pushed open the door to Mia's bedroom, you found her standing up in her crib, sniffling as she cried and tiredly rubbing at her eyes. Without a second thought, you beelined right for her and picked her up, making sure to give her a comforting squeeze as she immediately clung to you.

"It's ok, sweetheart. I'm here," you soothed as you began gently rubbing her back. "Mommy's here."

"Where go, mama?" She asked as she leaned against your shoulder and hugged you closer, then looked to where Auston was standing nearby but said nothing more.

"I just needed to go see a doctor, Mia. But it's ok. I won't leave you again, ok? I promise."

"Ok."

Auston watched the two of you interact and couldn't help but smile. He loved that you and Mia loved so much. Seeing the two most important girls in his life being as lovey and soft as you and Mia were made him feel all types of ways. You both were his entire world, and he was content just seeing a moment like that forever if he could, but then he remembered all that had to be done that day.

"Hey, Mini," he spoke up and reached towards her. "Why don't we go brush our teeth, then go eat breakfast?"

"No, daddy," she stated firmly as he went to take her from your hold, but she held onto you even tighter, instead. "I stay with mommy."

Both you and Auston were shocked by this. It was probably the first time Mia had ever just flat out denied any type of snuggles from her dad, and it was just so strange to see. Without even voicing it, you and Auston gave each other a look as if to say you knew she was giving him the cold shoulder because of what happened the night prior.

It sucked because you knew that your daughter didn't understand what was going on and that she still wouldn't even if you tried to explain it all right then in there. Telling Mia about pregnancy and how she was going to be a big sister soon had to be a gradual thing. So, with one more glance at each other and a slight nod, you and Auston silently agreed to just move on from the subject.

"Why don't we all go brush our teeth, and then I'll make you some pancakes, little miss," you suggested and kissed her head. "We have a long day ahead of us."

And you really did.

After the three of you got ready to go downstairs, Auston's family helped the two of you cook a huge breakfast for you all to eat. It was a great way to start off the day, but soon after, Auston had to leave for practice in preparation for the Leafs game that night.

Once he was gone, you planned to see your doctor, then pick up your family from the airport before you all were supposed to go to the game together. You were really excited, and Mia didn't leave your side for any of it.

Your doctor's appointment ended up being ok. You were told more about your anemia condition based on the doctor's bloodwork done at the hospital during it. Once that was established, your doctor then recommended some iron supplements for you to take with your prenatal vitamins and explained how she'd be checking your blood pressure very closely at every appointment from then on.

She also took time to check in with you and how you were doing. Her main question was if you'd been in contact with your therapist at all lately, to which you replied with how you talked to your therapist at least once a month still, but more frequently if you felt the need to. Your doctor was happy to hear that. She was the one that recommended you to your therapist almost ten years ago when you were a teenager, after all. You first met your therapist when you were seventeen and had been going to her ever since.

Then your doctor went on to tell you how she hoped you continued going to therapy, especially if everything going on with your pregnancy or just life, in general, was too much. You promised her that you would, and your appointment concluded soon after.

Having a conversation like that usually would make you uncomfortable. But since it was your doctor, the one you'd been going to since you were a kid, it made it all a lot easier. Having Mia and Ema there for moral support helped, too, especially with Auston being at practice.

Once you were done there, it was time to head to the airport and finally see your family.

Since the summer of 2017, when you and Auston had been dating for about six months, you've been the only one of your family that still lived in the Greater Toronto Area, and even then, you were only there during hockey season and a little bit at the end of offseason. You and your family loved Toronto. You always have.

Growing up, you lived in a small town on the outskirts of the GTA, then moved to downtown Toronto in 2015 when you were 18 and starting school at UofT. A year later, your younger sister Mya moved to Vancouver to begin school at UBC, then a year after that, Nate, the baby of the family, regardless of him only being two years younger than you, moved to Montreal. As your brother was in the process of moving, a job opportunity came up for your dad in B.C. and soon after, he was moving out west as well.

However, Ontario has always been home to your family. Every year at Christmas time, your family always finds a way to be together for the holiday season and continue your tradition of going on your annual skiing/snowboarding trip.

Two years prior, while you were still very pregnant with Mia, you all went to Mont-Tremblant in Quebec. The year after, during Mia's first Christmas season, everyone was in Vancouver for a few days, but now it was time for your family to be back home again, and you were so ready.

Although you kept in constant contact with your family when you weren't with them, it wasn't even comparable to how you felt when you were all together, so to say you were excited as you drove to the airport to pick them up would've been an understatement.

After your doctor's appointment, you took Ema back to the house just as Auston was getting home from practice, then headed to the airport with Mia to see your family.

You were holding Mia as you waited at the gates, telling her how her grandpa, auntie Mya and uncle Nate would all be there very soon and couldn't keep the tears from welling in your eyes when you saw them walking through the gate with their luggage. Mia started squirming in your hold excitedly, and for the first time that day, she bolted away from you as soon as you set her down and beelined towards your dad.

"Pa!"

"Ah, there's my girl!" He greeted as he let go of his suitcase, then leaned down to pick Mia up. "How are you, Miss Amelia?"

"Good," Mia replied with a smile, then hugged him tightly. "Christmas!"

"Yes, Merry Christmas!"

"Uh, excuse me, what are you still doing over there?" Mya said to you and held her arms open so the two of you could hug. "Hey, babe. Missed you."

"I missed you more," you told your little sister as you squeezed her, then pulled back to see Nate looking at you expectantly.

"Ehm," he cleared his throat and opened his arms too. "Are you forgetting about your favourite brother?"

"You're saying that like I have many choices in the matter," you told him with a pointed look, then moved away from Mya to go hug your brother too. "Missed you too, kid."

"Tee!" Mia then squealed as she reached towards Mya and Nate shortly after.

"Mia!" They exclaimed excitedly as they took her from your dad's hold, then you were able to hug him too.

"Hi, Dad," you smiled as he held you close for a minute.

"Hi, sport. How're you feeling?" He asked, making you smile hearing the nickname he's called you for as long as you could remember, but then gave him a knowing look.

"Auston told you, didn't he?"

"He called me while you were in the ambulance last night," your dad replied, then glanced at Mya and Nate as they started bickering over who was going to hold Mia and lowered his voice. "Congratulations, kiddo. Auston also filled me in on what the doctor said. I want you to know that we're all going to be here to help out if you need it, especially with Mia. Those two still don't know. I haven't said anything either. I figured you wanted to tell them about Mia's little sibling your own way."

"I do," you told him. "I wanted to tell you and Auston's family differently too, but I'm glad Aus called you when everything happened. I want to tell Mya and Nate tomorrow when we're with Mitchy and Steph too for Christmas."

"Fair enough, I'm sure they'll give you shit."

"I'd expect nothing less."

You then drove your family to where they'd be staying for the next two days. Usually, they'd stay at your house. Even with Auston's family, there was still room for the three of them, but this year, they stayed with Alice, your dad's girlfriend. You have adored Alice since you met her during your first Christmas with Auston as boyfriend and girlfriend back in 2017. Sadly, your mom passed away when you were thirteen, and it took years for your dad even to begin putting himself out there again in the dating pool. He always stressed to you, Mya and Nate that no one could ever replace your mother, which the three of you knew. Still, you all also understood that he was lonely and with the fact that he had given the three of you the world, the least you owed him was to not get in the way of him possibly finding happiness again.

Even with that, it took seven years after your mother's passing for him to find someone even worth considering bringing around his kids. However, Alice was amazing. You and your siblings have loved her since you met her, and now six years later are all still very glad to have her in your lives.

Your dad and Alice began their relationship shortly after he moved to Vancouver. They had worked together in Toronto a couple of years earlier until she moved to B.C., and they just so happened to cross paths again. However, Alice's family still lives in the GTA but vacation in Florida every winter.

This year, for a Christmas gift, you, Auston, Mya, Mya's boyfriend Seth, Nate and his girlfriend Sydney all pitched in so your dad and Alice could go to Florida for a few weeks and visit with her family a bit while they were there. The six of you told them what their gift was early, so they were prepared, seeing as the flight was booked for Christmas Day, and then your dad and Alice ended up booking a little beach house to stay in during those three weeks that had three extra rooms. Unfortunately, Seth and Sydney were unable to join, and the plan was for you and Mia to go for a week as well, but you decided against it because of how poorly you'd been feeling and lied, saying it was because you were swarmed with work.

Your dad understood and now gets it even more since he knows of your pregnancy, but Mya and Nate thought you were full of shit.

However, the timing was still perfect.

Alice arrived in Toronto the night before and was staying at her relatives' vacant home, which had more than enough room for your dad, Mya and Nate to stay at as well. The four of them were joining you, Mia, Auston's family and Steph in a box you booked at SBA to watch the game that night. The next day, everyone, including Mitch, Steph, and your cousin Chris, trekked up to Collingwood to stay at Blue Mountain Village and continue your family's snowboarding tradition during the holidays. Even Auston's family was joining, and you were so excited to have the most important people in your life around this Christmas. Late on Christmas Day, your dad, Alice, Nate and Mya were all to catch a late flight to Tampa and begin their vacation.

You were pretty excited about it all but more so happy to share your news about the new little babe you were growing with the loved ones who didn't find out because you fainted.

After a brief visit with Alice, you told your family you'd see them at the game, then you and Mia headed back home again. Auston was there once you arrived, and it wasn't long until he and Mia were having a quick nap on the couch together while Alex and Bre took Frank for a walk, and you chatted with Brian and Ema in the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty chill, but soon enough, Auston had to leave to get to the arena, and the rest of you had to start getting ready to go there as well.

Before you went to the arena, you got yourself and Mia all dressed up in your matching Matthews jerseys and Maple Leafs Santa hats before you joined everyone else downstairs and headed out. But not without getting a few pictures taken in front of your massive Christmas tree first.

Your evening at the Leafs game was nothing short of amazing, even though you most definitely felt a little tired.

You loved every moment of being able to cheer on your man and the other guys with both your family and Auston's together. The fact that they all got along meant the absolute world to you, too, and your time at the game was just really enjoyable. Steph came and watched the game with all of you. Still, the two of you dipped for a few minutes during the third period because other wives and girlfriends of players who were also present at the game wanted to get one last group picture before the New Year—seeing as everyone got pretty messy at the girl's Christmas party a couple of weeks earlier. You were sober for that, and even you still looked like a hot mess.

After the game, you all waited for Auston and Mitch before heading home. The guys you saw as they walked by were all in good moods after the win they'd just got, but all stopped and made sure to say hi to you, Mia and Steph as they passed.

A couple of minutes later, Auston and Mitch entered the hallway at the same time and lit right up when they saw everyone. But then you observed as Mitchy glanced at Auston briefly then started racing towards where you stoop with Mia.

"Hi, Meems!" Your cousin said excitedly as he picked his goddaughter up and made her start giggling like crazy as she hugged him. He then smiled at you and gave Steph a quick peck before turning to face your dad, Mya and Nate and greeted them excitedly, still holding onto Mia.

"Why must everyone just steal our daughter before I even get the chance to see her?" Auston grumbled teasingly as he came up beside you and smoothly wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss, then leaned down to smirk at you. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself," you smiled back, then leaned against him. "To be fair, Mitch was just faster than you there."

"I can honestly say I wasn't expecting him to break out into a sprint just to get to her first."

"Would you expect anything less, though?" Steph asked with a chuckle from where she stood beside you, then resumed her conversation with Alex.

"Valid point," Auston said with a nod, then kissed your head before moving away and walking towards your family. "Time to visit my favourite in-laws."

You felt as though your heart could burst watching him interact with your family, even feeling yourself getting a little teary-eyed as you observed them. Sure, it was more than likely the pregnancy hormones, but you were also just so freaking happy. Moments like this made you forget about everything else going on, and you loved it.

It seemed that Ema noticed this too because a few short moments later, she was standing next to you, nudging your shoulder with hers and smiling before pulling you in for a little side hug.

Shortly after that, everyone grouped together to discuss the plans for Christmas Eve and then soon called it a night. You hugged Mitch, Steph and your family goodbye, telling them you'd see them tomorrow at Blue Mountain before heading to the parking lot with Auston, Mia and his family, still smiling because everything just felt right. And you really needed that.

~*~

Everyone was awake early in the Matthews house the following day, full of excitement for Christmas Eve and for what the day's events entailed before embarking on the almost two-hour drive to the ski resort.

You, Mia, Auston and his family were the first ones to arrive at Blue Mountain out of the entire group and immediately started getting settled into your accommodations. Your little family of three had a room to yourselves, with Alex and Bre in the room across the hall and Auston's parents in the one next door on the left. The room next door on the right was going to be where Mitch, Steph and Chris stayed and had a conjoining door that could be opened up to connect the two rooms. It was pretty obvious those two rooms would be where everyone was hanging out later that evening. But further down the hall were the two rooms your dad and Alice, Nate and Mya would be staying in.

About an hour later was when everyone else began arriving.

Mitch claimed they took forever because when they stopped by his parents' house to drop off Zeus, your aunt Bonnie just wouldn't stop talking. She had to catch up with Nate and Mya right then and there even though she would be seeing them and your dad the next day for Christmas. You understood, though, because when you were talking to her that morning as you dropped off Frank, lucky that she agreed to watch him for the night, the two of you talked for quite a bit, so you could only imagine how badly she wanted to speak with your brother and sister who haven't been back in town for months.

Once everyone was settled, Nate, Mya, Mitch, Chris, and Steph were dead set on getting to the slopes to begin your family's tradition properly, and that's when you started panicking. When you didn't start getting ready right away, they knew something was up, and the fact that you stayed quiet confirmed that even more.

"Y/N, why aren't you getting ready?" Nate asked as he peaked his head through the doorway connecting yours and Mitch's room.

"I, uh, I think I might sit this one out, guys," you replied sheepishly. To be completely honest, you didn't know if it was safe to snowboard while pregnant or not. Sure, you were pretty good at snowboarding and didn't think you'd wipe out, but that didn't mean there still wasn't a chance that you could and end up causing harm to yourself and your baby.

"Excuse me?" Chris said before sticking his head through the doorway too. "The hell do you mean you 'might sit this one out', Y/N?"

"Well, I-."

"It's tradition," Mya cut you off from where she sat on the couch in your's and Auston's room.

"I, I don't know," you responded. "I guess I can go down one hill, but maybe just an intermediate one and no racing."

"That's no fun," Nate groaned dramatically before disappearing out of sight.

"Babe," Auston spoke up from where he stood a couple of feet away, putting on Mia's snow pants and coat. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He then gave you a look, silently asking you to reconsider because you knew he'd be stressing out the entire time you were up on that hill.

"I think if I stick to an easy hill, I'll be fine, Aus," you explained to him softly so no one else besides Bre and Alex, who were sitting next to you, would hear. "If I was earlier in my pregnancy, I wouldn't even consider it, but I'm 15 weeks, babe, and not to sound cocky, but I don't think I'm going to wipe out."

"But-."

"I promise I'll only do one. If I didn't feel well enough to do it or was worried, I wouldn't. Ok?"

"Ok," he sighed and nodded in agreement. "But if something happens, babe."

"Try not to think about it like that," you replied and stood up to walk towards him and Mia. "Have a little faith in my skills."

"I do. And I mean, you're definitely better at snowboarding than I am."

"That's because you're my Desert Boy," you told him, then leaned down to peck his lips before he could say anything else, smirking because you knew he hated when you called him that.

"Why do you only want to do an intermediate hill?" Mitch asked as he strolled into the room but stopped briefly to compliment Mia on her puffy pink coat before looking back at you. "Pretty sure last year you said, and I quote, 'it's too easy. Where's the challenge?' Right?"

You didn't know how to respond. There was no way you were just flat out going to say it was because you were pregnant, and you struggled coming up with an excuse. But luckily for you, Bre saved your ass.

"It's because us Arizonians aren't used to this, and Y/N promised she wouldn't show us up," Auston's younger sister spoke up, then winked at you.

"Thank you," you told her quietly.

"Ok, that's fair," Nate replied and came into the room too. "The Canadians have a bit of an advantage here, I guess."

"Speak for yourself," Steph scoffed from the other room. "The only reason I'm no longer afraid of the ski lift is because you all have dragged me on it so many times now."

"You and me both, Steph," Auston piped in, then stood up from his kneeling position in front of Mia. "Wow, Mini, you look great. Are you ready to go on the mountain coaster?"

"Yeah!" Your daughter replied excitedly, then ran into the other room.

"I guess we shouldn't keep her waiting," Alex suggested, to which everyone agreed with, and you all soon made your way outside.

Once the group of you were all dressed for the cold, you went down to the resort lobby and dispersed. The kids made their way to the ski hills while Ema and Brian wandered around the village with your dad and Alice.

As soon as you arrived at the foot of the hill with all of your gear, Auston asked if you were sure you would be ok doing this, and you assured him that you would be.

You then made your way over to the ski lift and braced yourself for what was to come. Mia stayed at the bottom of the hill with Alex, but not without cheering you and Auston on, of course.

"Go, mommy! Go, daddy!" She called after the two of you and waved with Alex as she watched you go.

You then got on one of the ski lift chairs with Auston and Bre and waited patiently to be taken up to the top. Once you got off the lift and everyone was grouped together, you, Nate, Mya, Mitch and Chris all took your annual hilltop cousin group picture, as well as some others.

There were some nice photos taken of you with your siblings, a couple with Steph, as well as a few with Bre. Nate managed to capture a typical picture of you and Mitch where he was laughing, and you looked like you were ready to throat punch him. But your favourite photo was one that Bre took.

As everyone was figuring out which hill they wanted to go on after this one, you shuffled over to Auston, then wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned against his chest as you waited. He responded by wrapping his arms around your middle too so that he could hold you close. Then he leaned his head on top of yours and looked down towards the bottom of the hill. Steph then went over to Bre and pointed out the cute little moment happening between you and Auston, and your sister-in-law was quick at snapping a picture so that the moment would be saved forever.

Shortly after that, you all snowboarded down the hill. Mitch and Nate showed off a bit, and Auston tried to but got a little shaky in doing so. You made it to the bottom without issue but didn't want to risk going down again because, realistically, you didn't know what could happen out there and would much rather be safe than sorry.

The rest of them went down different ski trails while you hung out with Mia and let Alex have a turn going up the hill as well. As you and Mia waited, you noticed the rental spot for skis and snowboards, and since there wasn't much else to do, you decided to go rent a tiny snowboard for Mia to see how she would take to the activity.

After you got her all geared up and standing on the board, you started pulling her around.

"Look at you go, Mia, you're a natural," you told her with a smile.

"Look at me, go!" She repeated while giggling as she continued staying firm in her standing position while you pulled the rope attached to the board.

About twenty minutes later, you found a very tiny pile of snow that barely had a slope, but it was still something and gave you an idea.

"Alright, babe, want to try all by yourself?" You asked and looked down at your daughter. She didn't answer you. Instead, she just looked up at you unsurely. "It's going to be ok, sweets. I won't let you fall."

"Ok, mama," she replied hesitantly but did not indicate that she didn't trust you.

You then pulled her up the small snowbank and positioned her at the top where the slope began. Once you were done doing that, you crouched down next to Mia so that the two of you would be face to face.

"Are you ready?" You asked and couldn't help but smile as she lit right up and nodded.

"Yeah!"

"Ok, give me five," you replied and held out your hand, which she quickly smacked her mitten-covered hand against in attempts to give you a high-five. "Full send?"

"Full send, mommy!"

At that, you chuckled, then leaned over to kiss her head before shuffling down the slope. Once you reached where the rope ended, you looked at your daughter again before grabbing it and started tugging slightly.

Once Mia was over the edge of where the slope began, you let go of the rope and let her slide down all on her own. You shuffled down the hill backwards, making sure to be there if she did fall, but she made it to the bottom without issue and was so proud of herself.

"Woah!" She gasped and looked at you, excitedly.

"Good job, baby!" You told her, but loud cheering and hollering sounded from nearby before you could say anything else.

"Shred-it, Mia!" Nate exclaimed, making you look over to see everyone approaching the two of you again, all of them grinning widely.

"Good job, Mini!" Auston beamed as he was the first to reach you, then quickly scooped up Mia and held her close. "And here I thought you might act more Arizonian than Ontarian."

"Well, she was born here," Mitchy argued. "Don't downplay her half-Canadianness."

"She's already better at snowboarding than I am," Alex added in, making everyone laugh.

"Pretty soon, she's going to show all of us up," Chris stated.

Mia couldn't stop smiling while being surrounded by all of her people and hearing their compliments. Shortly after that, Mitchy pulled her back up to the top of the snowbank so she could go down once more, then you all headed back into the resort to warm up and get ready to go find the rest of the family.

A couple of hours later, after the whole group got together for dinner, everyone was gathered in your and Auston's room just hanging out. Your room was pretty big, but with Mitch and Steph's room being connected, it allowed much more space, and no one was cramped.

No one stayed dressed up for this. You all changed into comfy clothes without having the need to impress anyone but still managed to pull off a surprise when yours and Auston's family arrived at your room to find you, him and Mia all dressed in matching Christmas pyjamas.

Everyone then started sipping on some alcoholic beverages, minus you and Mia, of course, and as the night progressed, you started feeling more and more ready to tell the rest of your family that you were pregnant again.

Your siblings, Mitch, Steph and Chris, were all aware that you hadn't been feeling well lately, and they never pressed you about it, even though they didn't know why. They knew that whatever wasn't making you feel well was more than just one thing, but they knew you'd tell them when you were ready to. So, when you expressed that you didn't want to drink that night, none of them gave you a hard time even though Steph had a gut feeling about something.

It eventually got to the point where you just didn't want to wait any longer. You were having so much fun with the people you loved the most and were unable to keep your secret anymore.

You subtly made your way over to where Auston was standing, holding Mia as he talked with Chris in the corner of the room by the Christmas tree, and wasted no time cuddling right up next to him.

"Hi, mommy," Mia greeted, noticing you before anyone else but soon had Auston turning to look over his shoulder, smiling as soon as he saw you.

"Hey, babe," Auston said and welcomed your cuddles.

"Sorry to interrupt," you stated, then looked to your cousin, who also just smiled in return while watching you, Auston and Mia together.

"You didn't interrupt," Chris replied. "But I'll be right back. I'm going to go grab another drink."

Once it was just your little family of three, you looked up to Auston and bit down on your bottom lip while trying to contain the massive grin you could feel forming.

"What's up?" Your husband asked, knowing that you were getting excited about something.

"I want to tell them."

"Right now?"

"Yeah," you answered. "I think I'm ready."

"Then I'm ready, too," he stated, which made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"What are you three over there talking about?" Mya spoke up as she approached the three of you.

With one final glance at Auston, the two of you nodded at each other, then you moved away from him slightly so that you could both face everyone else.

"Well, there's something that we wanted to tell all of you," you told Mya but managed to capture everyone else's attention too.

"Wait!" You heard Mitch yell from the other room, then a moment later, he was bursting through the doorway and letting out a dramatic breath. "Ok, proceed."

You smiled and braced yourself for what was to come.

When it came to announcing your pregnancy with Mia, it was all a little chaotic and nothing was planned well. Which was fine, but you wanted the announcing of this little bean to be more fun and exciting. Unfortunately, that plan was partially ruined when you fainted in front of Auston's family, but you knew they were excited and knew that your family would be just as stoked, which is why you wanted to get creative with how you told them.

Growing up, for the longest time, you didn't really understand pregnancy, seeing as you were so young when your mom was pregnant with both Mya and Nate. You were never able to remember who put that idea in your head, but you used to believe how a woman got pregnant was by eating a watermelon seed, and then a baby grew in their belly because of it. Eventually, you grew out of that and understood what it actually meant to become pregnant, but your family has never let you live it down.

When you showed Mya and Nate your pregnant belly when you were expecting Mia, one of the first things your brother asked was if you ate watermelon, and it's also just something members of your family will always bring up just to tease you about.

You told Auston this story when he was confused by why so many people talked about watermelon as you were pregnant the first time, and he found it absolutely hilarious. His family did, too, so you thought that would be a fun thing to incorporate into announcing this pregnancy.

A couple of weeks prior was when you attempted to tell Mia about how she would be a big sister in a few months. She didn't understand, and both you and Auston knew you'd both have to be gradual and patient when it came to helping her understand what that meant. After you told her, she asked how you were pregnant, and before you could even say anything, Auston told her that you ate watermelon and you wanted to die of embarrassment because you knew that was just something you'd never be able to live down.

"The anticipation is killing me," Steph spoke up, snapping you from your train of thought but also making you grin even wider than before.

"Mini, can you tell everyone what your mommy ate?" Auston asked your daughter as he looked down at her, then pointed to her tummy so that she'd understand what he was referring to.

"Mommy ate watermelon," she said casually, then jumped when a series of excited gasps sounded from around the room.

"SHUT UP!" Nate was the first to say something, making Auston's family and your dad laugh, while everyone else looked at you completely flabbergasted.

"Are you kidding?" Mya asked and stepped even closer. "This isn't some kind of sick joke, is it?"

"It's not," you confirmed, your voice cracking as you let out a small laugh and started crying as your sister engulfed you in a tight hug.

Soon enough, another pair of arms were wrapping around you and Mya, holding you both tightly as they did so. They laid their head right on top of yours with ease, and a deep laugh rippled through their chest. You knew it had to be your brother.

"This is insane. Congratulations, Y/N," Nate said.

"Meems, you're going to be a big sister!" Mitchy told Mia as he took her from Auston's arms so your brother and sister could move on to congratulating him too. Once he had Mia, he looked at you and shook his head but had the biggest smile as he pulled you in for a hug. "Congrats, twin. Oh, my god."

"I knew something was up!" Steph squealed as she tackled you in a hug next. "Please, I'm so happy for you, babe."

You then received a hug from both Chris and Alice after that, who were extremely happy for you and Auston. Shortly after that, Ema ran to her room to bring back bottles of wine for everyone to crack into for a congratulatory toast kind of thing. She made sure to give you a glass of sparkling cider instead as everyone cheered on your growing family, making you even more emotional as you leaned into Auston's chest as a way to hide the fact that you were bawling your eyes out.

Later that night, after everyone had wandered off to bed, you and Auston were still awake wrapping the Christmas gifts you brought to give to your loved ones in the morning. Mia was passed out on her little travel bed on the other side of the room next to yours and Auston's bed, while the two of you were all giggly and teasing with each other as you attempted to get everything done.

Auston was a little buzzed from the alcohol he consumed earlier, and even though you were sober, you just fed off his energy, and the two of you were just having a lot of fun.

"Would you quiet down?" You whispered after he made a particularly cheeky but loud comment. "You're going to wake Mia up."

"It's Christmas, babe," he replied as he stuck his tongue out at you. "Loosen up a bit."

You rolled your eyes at him but still smiled as he leaned over to change the song that was softly playing from his phone nearby. Whenever Mia was going to sleep, she always preferred to listen to music as she did. So, you and Auston made a little playlist she listens to fall asleep to every night that's made up of very soft and soothing music and songs that you both love.

Even after Mia fell asleep, the two of you left the music on so it would somewhat cover up your voices as you did your wrapping. It just all very much so fit the vibe of the two of you still in your matching pj's talking with each other as you sat on the ground next to the Christmas tree seeing as that was the only light source you could use in the room without waking up your daughter.

The intro notes of Lover by Taylor Swift started playing next, and Auston let out a pleased sigh as he looked back at you.

"Ah, Miss Swift," he said, then gave you a look.

"What?" You asked and narrowed your gaze at him.

"Can I not just admire my beautiful wife?"

"You can, but I know the look you're giving me. It's the one you give when you want something. So, what is it?"

"You know me well," he told you then smirked, before extending a hand towards you. "Dance with me."

At that, you chuckled a little bit, but then Auston stood up and kept his hand extended as he looked at you expectantly.

"Wait, are you serious?" You asked, surprised.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't know how to respond. You were so caught off guard but soon found yourself slowly reaching for his hand and letting him help you stand back up. Once you were upright, you then let him pull you in close and rested your head on his chest as the two of you began swaying to the music.

As you did this, you couldn't help but think about dancing with him like this at your wedding that happened a year and a half prior. That was one of the happiest days of your life. Dancing with him at that moment next to the Christmas Tree made you feel like that all over again, and you soon found yourself snuggling closer to him as he began humming along to the lyrics.

No words were exchanged. There was no need for them to be. The two of you were in your own little world and just wanted to stay there for a while longer. Even as Lover faded out and Ed Sheeran's Perfect began playing next, the two of you stayed holding onto each other and continued swaying as the night seemingly faded around you both.

~*~

Christmas Day morning, although kind of chaotic, was everything you could've hoped it'd be.

You, Auston and Mia, had a very soft morning that was just the three of you before everyone piled into your room again and kicked off the day's events. Your entire family all got breakfast together, then went back to the rooms to exchange gifts but had to check out of the resort and head back to Toronto soon after.

That evening, you drove Nate, Mya, your dad and Alice to the airport, then went back home to have Christmas dinner with Auston's family. It was a very chill way to conclude the holiday, and you loved every minute of it.

A few days later, Auston's family flew home to Arizona, hockey started up again, and things just started feeling weird to you.

You would've been lying if you said you didn't experience a bit of post-holiday depression. Going from a full house of people and having all your loved ones together to having the house basically empty besides you, Mia and Frank hit really hard. The Leafs' schedule after Christmas sucked and had Auston constantly coming and going, which also didn't help because it was brief when he was home.

It was like you were coming down from a really good high, but instead of things eventually feeling normal again, they just gradually got worse without you even realizing it. And on top of it all, you just felt so tired and weak all the damn time, finally noticing how badly your anemia absolutely kicked your ass and would continue to do so for the months to come.

However, as soon as you acknowledged how down you were feeling mentally, you booked an appointment with your therapist. Gradually got in the routine of talking to them at least once a week again. But even in doing that, you never discussed how you were feeling with anyone else and were unintentionally pushing them away.

Your loved ones noticed, though. It was very easy for them too. But, there wasn't much they could do to help if you didn't let them.

During those weeks after Christmas, Mia barely left your side because she knew you weren't feeling well, and neither did Frank. Mitch and Steph were able to pick up on something bothering you, too, because you distanced yourself from them. They knew about you having anemia and how that definitely affected you a lot, also that you were just bummed, but you wouldn't let them even try to help you. Steph tried to invite you over for days the two of you could just chill together with Mia, Frank and Zeus while the guys were away and was even ok going to your house instead, but you never gave her a straight answer. So, nothing came of it, and she and Mitch started genuinely getting worried about you.

They weren't the only ones who realized you weren't feeling like yourself either.

When you Facetimed your dad, Alice, Nate and Mya while they were in Florida, they could easily tell you weren't doing good and just wished they could be there to help. Auston's family was able to tell too, and it even got to the point where Ema was about to fly back to Toronto but didn't because she knew if that wasn't something you wanted to happen, it wouldn't help the situation.

Naturally, it was Auston who noticed just how much changed with you after the holidays. He saw it first hand when he was home and could hear it in your voice during your calls while he was away. However, you just never expressed what was bothering you, and other than the obvious things that triggered this, not even you were sure why you felt as gross as you did.

Unfortunately, this took somewhat of a toll on your's and Auston's relationship. You didn't realize you were pushing him away, and he couldn't help but blame himself for it. He wished he could be home all the time, and so did you, but that just wasn't possible, and it was the first time that a form of mental and emotional distance between the two of you added to the physical distance that was already there and it just made everything so much harder.

Miscommunication between you and Auston occurred more during these few weeks than it ever had throughout your entire relationship. How both of you felt just wasn't addressed because neither of you knew how to approach the topic and were utterly oblivious to how bad it truly was.

Both of you hated it so much. But then, around the middle of January, about two weeks before Mia's second birthday, there was a slight shift, and things briefly started looking up.

You were happy and more energetic all of a sudden, and for a few days straight, you just seemed so much like yourself again. There was a day that you and Mia grabbed lunch with Steph then hung out for the remainder of the day for the first time in almost a month. Your dad, Alice and Nate were due to fly back to Toronto in the upcoming days and stay for a night before going home themselves, so you were excited to see them even though Mya was already back in B.C. And even with Auston, you were gradually coming out of that wall you unintentionally built around yourself and letting him back in as well.

Although not every day was perfect, things seemed better. Little did anyone know they were about to go to complete shit and how easily it could've all been avoided too.

During a couple of days where Auston was home, he decided to plan something special for you. The weird scheduling of him seemingly being on the road more than he was at home was coming to an end just in time for Mia's birthday, and he couldn't wait. He was so excited to have longer stretches at home. Even though he'd still have to come and go, it wasn't going to seem as bad as it had been previously. And the best part was that he'd get just to be there and spend time with you and Mia.

To kick that off, on the 15th, exactly ten days before Mia's birthday, he booked a reservation for the two of you to grab dinner at one of your favourite restaurants downtown.

You weren't feeling 100% that day, but after Auston proposed the idea, explained what restaurant the two of you would be going to, and how he'd already arranged for Steph to watch Mia that night, you got pretty excited about it.

The thought of having a nice evening with your husband sounded so good to you. After how shitty January had been so far, you felt that you really needed this one on one time with him and could tell that he felt the same.

There wasn't a Leafs game that day, but Auston did have practice and some media stuff he had to do before meeting you for dinner. It was a long and hectic day, to say the least, and it ended up being way longer than he was expecting, but he eventually finished what he needed to do and couldn't wait to get home and see his girls.

However, when he got home, you weren't there. But Steph was.

"Hey, Steph," Auston greeted as he walked through the front door and looked at her curiously. He was lucky, though, because Mia was very focused on the show Steph had put on for her and didn't even notice him. But before he could make his presence known to her, Steph told Mia she'd be back in a second, then rushed into the foyer.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, looking at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Uh, this is my house?" He chuckled in response.

"I'm aware of that, but weren't you supposed to be downtown getting dinner with Y/N an hour ago?"

Auston froze and went completely pale at that.

"Oh, fuck," he said and immediately started putting his coat back on. "Oh, my god. I completely forgot about the reservation. Fuck!"

Without saying another word, he booked it out of the house and back to his car, but Steph understood and just hoped that this wouldn't become a whole thing, even though she had a feeling it definitely wasn't going to end up good.

Auston tried calling you as he drove back downtown and got more frustrated with himself when you weren't answering. About twenty minutes later, he parked the car and rushed to the restaurant. However, when he went to go inside, you walked out.

You looked surprised to see him, but that quickly changed to a look of hurt and disappointment, which didn't go unnoticed by your husband.

"Y/N, I am so sorry," Auston tried to explain while taking in how dressed up you were. You looked stunning in the dress you decided to wear that night, and it made him feel even worse about how badly he fucked up. "I got so caught up with everything today, and I know that's no excuse, but please know how sorry I am. We can go back in there. I'm sure they'll still take us."

"I already ate," you told him, then glanced away. It was then he noticed how glossy your eyes were with unshed tears and could feel his heart shatter. "I just want to go home."

"But, baby-."

"Please, Auston. I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

He didn't know what he could say to that, so with a nod and another apology, the two of you walked to his car and headed home.

The original plan was for Steph to drop you off at the restaurant to meet Auston, then the two of you would drive home together afterwards. That's exactly what happened. But the entire drive home was so painfully silent, and Auston knew it was all his fault.

"Babe, you don't understand how sorry I truly am," he eventually spoke up, which had you shifting awkwardly in your seat before responding.

"I understand. But please, let's just drop it."

You didn't leave much room for argument as you mindlessly started rubbing your 18-week pregnant belly and moved to look out the window, so Auston didn't bother fighting you on it and continued the drive home in silence.

Steph could sense the tension when the two of you walked into the house but knew it wasn't her place to ask about it. So, she gave Mia a quick hug goodbye, then told you and Auston to have a good night as you both thanked her for watching Mia, then made her way home for the night.

There weren't many words exchanged between the two of you as you put Mia to bed and got ready to sleep yourselves. Although you still cuddled up against Auston as you began falling asleep, just like you did every night, he still knew that you were so upset with him. However, the issue wasn't resolved or addressed, and the two of you soon fell asleep for the night.

The next morning, Auston had to be up early to catch a flight out of Pearson with the team to go to New Jersey for a game against the Devils that night. He was due to be back home in three days after a game against the Capitals the following day, and then was going to be home for four days before having to go to Montreal.

You didn't express that you were still upset with him as he got ready to leave, but he knew you were still hurt. As he was about to walk out the door, you still wished him luck with his games and told him that you loved him, because even though you were upset, that didn't change the love you always had for your husband.

But, Auston was already overthinking the entire situation and had begun planning a way he could make it up to you again as both you and Mia kissed him goodbye. That night after the game against the Devils was when he decided he'd fly home the following night after the game against Washington to surprise you, rather than going back to Toronto a day later with the rest of the team.

However, the day he was planning on flying home, you called him to explain how Mia wasn't feeling good.

You were pretty sure she was getting an ear infection, and she was just so fussy because of how uncomfortable and in pain she was. It broke your heart seeing her like that, and you just really needed to tell Auston about it, hoping he'd remind you that everything was going to be ok and of course, he did.

During that conversation, he managed not to bring up the fact that he was coming home that night but said to call him still if you needed anything or if Mia got worse.

Unfortunately, Mia did get worse, and it was too overwhelming for you.

When Auston was playing hockey that night, you got to the point where you were about to have an absolute breakdown because it was all too much. Your doctor was closed, and Mia didn't even consider the idea of going to the hospital, getting even fussier whenever you mentioned it. You couldn't call Auston and were about to call Steph because, on top of everything, you felt like trash too. Although you really didn't want to inconvenience anyone, you knew that you needed help and couldn't do this independently.

But, before you called Steph, you remembered that your dad and Nate were in town with Alice for the next two nights before they flew back to Vancouver and Montreal. You weren't even sure if they'd landed in Pearson yet, but without thinking about it any longer, you brought up Alice's contact in your phone as you held Mia with your other arm and hit the call button.

"Hello?" Alice greeted you with her usual cheery voice, which made you let out a loud sigh of relief.

"Alice, are you guys back in Toronto yet, by chance?" Your voice cracked as you sniffled, trying to keep it together but simply unable to.

"Oh, honey, is everything alright? We're in an Uber right now, about ten minutes away from my cousin's house."

"Would you mind if I came over? Auston isn't here, Mia is sick, and I need help. I don't know what to do anymore."

"You do not even need to ask, sweetheart," she replied softly. "But take a few deep breaths for me, ok? I know it's tough, but it's going to be alright. You go pack a bag for you and Mia, then get her and Frank loaded into the car and come over. Ok?"

"Ok," you responded, taking a deep breath as you did so. "Thank you, Alice. We'll be there real soon."

After you hung up the phone, you continued taking deep breaths so you could calm yourself down. You then looked down at Mia as she leaned against your shoulder, fighting to stay awake, and could tell that she felt probably as gross as you did.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling good, sweet girl," you told her softly, then brushed some of her curls away from her face. "We're going to stay with Pa, Alice and Uncle Nate for the night, ok? We're going to get you feeling better very soon."

"Ok, mama," she replied, then held onto you a little tighter as you started packing a bag for the two of you, then got both of you all bundled up to leave the house for the night.

As soon as Auston's game was over, he called you to check in with how Mia was doing, but the call went straight to voicemail. After a few more attempts to contact you and the same outcome, he started getting worried. He texted his mom, Steph and even a couple of the other Leafs girlfriends that he knew you were pretty close with to see if anyone had heard from you, which none of them had.

Not being able to keep himself from getting a little anxious, Auston still went to the airport and got on the conveniently short flight back to Toronto, hoping that everything would be fine once he got there.

As soon as he landed, he called you again, and there was still no answer. Yes, he knew that you were still mad at him, but he didn't think you were angry enough just to ignore him entirely and seemingly fall off the grid, especially after telling him that Mia was sick.

He started getting frustrated and sent a quick text to Nate to see if he'd heard from you, but never got a reply back. So, he ordered an Uber to take him home, and when he got there, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

Your car wasn't in the driveway, there wasn't a single light on in the house, and there wasn't a single sign of you, Mia or Frank once he went inside. It was past Mia's bedtime, so it didn't make sense for you not to be home, but surely if you'd taken her to the hospital, you would've told him and not taken Frank. So, he called you again and still wasn't able to get through.

He stressfully pushed his hand through his hair as he called his parents in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going. As he did this, he took his boots off, hung up his coat and went upstairs to your's and his bedroom. When he entered the room, a mix of your and Mia's clothes was strewn all over the place. It looked that you left in a hurry and only grabbed what you could, but Auston couldn't figure out why.

While on the phone with his parents, he expressed what he saw to them and felt himself getting more and more upset. Ema tried to keep him level minded, but he was already too worked up for her to be successful in doing that.

"Mom, I think she left," he finally stated, acknowledging the worst-case scenario that had been eating away at his mind since the moment he entered the house. Ema was confused by what he meant when saying that because she was already well aware that you weren't there, but then Auston elaborated on what he was thinking. "Me, mom. I think she left me."

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