#so she can afford more booze and not get cursed

[mika-0730]

I love her so fucking much y'all

[seasonofthewicth]

next to you

I’ve wanted to write this exact scenario for rowaelin for so long and today I was supposed to write for agkol so obviously this came out. Rowaelin - 2.4k

part 2

-

“It’s totally fine,” Aedion says, his broad arm a warm weight around her shoulders as they both take in the room before them. And the bed. Aelin doesn’t move to take a step any further than their perch in the doorway. “He’s away for the weekend, he won’t know.”

A more sober Aelin would probably protest, but as it is she’s had a couple too many glasses of wine and she really doesn’t fancy having to order an Uber back to her own place. 

She had come over to Aedion’s under the pretence of watching a movie with her cousin and his girlfriend, but she had made the first mistake of inviting Dorian who had made the second mistake of bringing the wine. 

One thing had led to another which had led to the four of them lying around in various states of non-sobriety in the roof garden of Aedion’s building. At one point she’d slung on his fleece for extra warmth as she curled into Lysandra’s side as they watched the stars. Aedion and Dorian had stood at the railings looking over the city, sharing a smoke as they spoke in voices too low for Aelin to hear. 

All in all, a good night.

The view from the roof terrace catches her breath each time she visits, it’s high enough to capture the lines of the city in all directions and being so high up, at such a step back, always feels like a breath of fresh air. 

Aedion has a cool apartment, one she wishes she could afford, with it’s basement gym, the scenic garden and it’s unfailing hot water system. It’s a shame she doesn’t spend more time here. 

She chews her lip as she takes in the tidy bedroom before her, the crisp green sheets on the bed, the orderly desk in the corner with only a laptop and a lamp atop it, the laundry hamper in the corner surely holding the dirty clothes that in Aelin’s place live on the floor until she can bring herself to wash them. 

It wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to crash in Aedion’s roommate’s bed for the night. Like Aedion says, he’s away for the weekend and she can change the sheets afterwards so he'll never know she was there. 

She can’t believe she’s actually considering it but the wine is wearing off slightly now leaving her feeling like she wants to collapse into the giant bed and bury herself beneath the covers. 

“Well,” Aedion says from her side, his voice only slightly slurred. “It’s here if you want it. I’m going to hit the hay. Whatever you decide, don’t walk home. I can call you a cab.”

“You’re sure he’s away for the weekend?” Aelin says as she shrugs out from underneath his arm. 

“Hundred percent,” Aedion nods as she steps closer towards the welcoming bed. 

Well, it’s decided then.

“Ah,” Aelin moans as she finally collapses onto the bed. She can’t believe she ever considered getting a taxi home, the sheets beneath her cheek are luxuriously soft and the mattress - gods the mattress. She could sink into it and stay here forever, it cups and moulds around each of her curves and she can’t help the sigh of satisfaction that slips out of her.  

Aedion’s laugh sounds from behind her as he shuts the door. “Night, Ae.”

Her own response is muffled into the brushed cotton beneath her. She lies still for a moment, resting her eyes as the buzz of the booze settles into her. There’s a thrumming beneath her skin, and the room spins somewhat as she lays still with her eyes shut gently against the sensations. Her fingertips are definitely tingling, a sign that she knows she’ll feel rotten in the morning, but for now the bliss of a dark room and a soft bed beneath her are all that her mind can care to contemplate.

It’s been a while since she’s hung out with her cousin, both of them just busy, and she’s missed him. She’s missed the easy companionship they have and the slick conversations they have, only aided tonight by the presence of Dorian and Lysandra and the wine. 

She snorts a laugh into the sheets and the movement causes the button of her jeans to dig into her stomach. She forces herself up with a groan and just manages to tug off the stiff denim, slinging the offending item across the room somewhere.

She laughs to herself at the thought of her already messing up such a clean room. 

She doesn’t know Aedion’s roommate that well. She knows he’s called Rowan, and that he’s twenty-eight and now she knows that he has a disgustingly tidy room. Or he did, she adds to herself as she throws her top to the other side of the room. 

Rowan only moved in with her cousin a couple of months ago, but from his room she can guess he’s uptight and quite possibly deathly boring. How Aedion lives with someone like that she doesn’t know, Aelin’s own roommates - Manon and Elide - are the perfect level of chaos with just enough order to function. 

Aelin considers her options as she slumps on the corner of his bed, clad only in her underwear. Sleeping in a bra is uncomfortable but would she want to be naked in this stranger’s bed? Whether or not she changes the sheets afterwards he could be sweaty or gross or worse. He could have had guests in this bed before her. 

Her gaze lands on a chest of drawers tucked against the wall on the far side of the room and before she knows she’s tiptoeing across and tugging open a drawer. Bingo. In-keeping with the rest of the room there are rows and rows of neatly folded t-shirts and before she can second guess herself she tugs out a black one, tugging it over herself before slipping off her bra and dropping it to the floor. 

Another thing she’s learning tonight about Aedion’s mysterious roommate? He’s absolutely huge. 

Aelin is far above average height for a woman and still, Rowan’s t-shirt hits mid thigh. She feels somewhat scandalous, in his room and wearing his clothes without his knowledge. A thought pops into her mind before she can help it - she hopes he doesn’t have a girlfriend. 

Aelin launches herself back at the bed, sliding into the sleek sheets before flicking off the light at her side. She nestles in tightly, burrowing into the deliciously inviting bed and takes a deep breath. Gods this Rowan person smells good too. 

She relaxes into the softness of the sheets and the euphoria that is lying on his mattress. In combination with the wine it doesn’t take her long at all to drift off. 

When she wakes Aelin is aware of two things. 

Firstly, her mouth tastes like shit. That would be the wine and not brushing her teeth the night before.

Secondly, she’s not alone. 

It takes her a few beats to realise, but there’s a strong arm slung around her waist, tucking her into a broad chest. A puff of breath dashes across her neck as the man takes each slow, deep breath as he slumbers behind her. 

Aelin lays still for a moment, her brain not yet fully turned on. 

She definitely went to bed alone, but maybe-

“Dorian?” She whispers into the dark, trying to roll over to see him, but the strong arm around her waist is clamped too tightly for her to get anything more than a glance. She has no idea where Dorian ended up last night but it wouldn’t be the first time they had ended up in bed together.

“Dorian?” She tries again and the man behind her shifts allowing her an eyeful of the top of the head tucked into the crook of her neck. 

Well, the man with the silver hair is definitely not Dorian, and as he shifts he tugs her tighter against him and shit. The pressure of morning wood against her backside is unmistakable. 

Aelin’s mouth goes dry as her traitorous body grinds back into it, her ass rubbing against the hard length. 

Nope. 

“Hey,” She whispers, louder this time as she tries to pry his hand from her waist. “Wake up.”

The man shifts, rolling back slightly away from her, his hand sliding up from her waist to sit on her hip. A low moan sounds from the back of his throat as he begins to wake and damn if Aelin doesn’t clamp her thighs together at the sound. 

She finally manages to wrestle herself up onto her elbows and she twists around to get a look at the man she definitely did not share a bed with last night when she went to sleep. 

Yet another thing she’s learning about Aedion’s roommate Rowan? He’s fucking gorgeous. 

In the dim light of the morning she can make out the sharp line of his jaw and the full curve of his lips, even as they twist into a slight frown. His silver brows are drawn together as he shifts and as his eyes flutter open she’s greeted by the most striking green eyes she’s ever seen. 

“What the fuck?” Even his voice is sexy, the low rasp sending shivers down her spine, heat sparking from the hand still resting on her hip. 

As though they remember that point of contact at the same time he jerks his hand back and repeats his earlier question. “Who are you?” He hisses. 

“I’m Aelin.” She says as though it’s the most obvious answer. “What are you doing in here?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh and Aelin curses herself for how hot she finds it. Objectively, she is in the wrong, but she’s going to blame Aedion. 

“What am I doing here?” He says. “This is my bed. What are you doing here?”

Aelin shrugs as if this is a regular occurrence, “Aedion said I could crash here.”

Rowan lifts his hand to draw it across his face, letting out another dark curl of laughter as he rolls onto his back, seemingly needing a minute to process the situation he has found himself in. Aelin catches the shadows of dark ink down his arm and curses her cousin for not introducing them earlier, she’s quite enjoying her morning. 

“Did he now?”

She’s very much aware that she’s still tucked into his side, his right arm curled beneath her pillow as he lays back. She drops herself down from her elbows, her head is aching and Rowan doesn’t seem to be making sense of this any time soon so she may as well get comfortable.

He doesn’t shy away from her, in fact his thumb brushes against the cotton of his t-shirt covering her shoulder. 

Rowan pulls his hand away from his face and tilts his head to face her fully. 

Those green eyes make her feel like she’s caught in the most enticing of traps. She couldn’t look away if she tried. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” He asks, and Aelin shrugs as she glances down at herself. 

It’s a glance that allows her the knowledge that Rowan himself is not wearing a shirt and the broad, muscular planes of his chest start her heart beating quickly. The ink on his arm stretches onto his upper chest and Aelin wants to touch. 

“You should be thankful,” She says. “I almost didn’t.” 

Rowan opens his mouth to say something, but then seems to change his mind. Instead he shifts up onto an elbow and rolls over so that he’s leaning towards her. Aelin can’t stop her brain from imagining how it would feel if he slipped his thigh between hers. How she could shuffle down slightly to press his leg right where she wants it, and the darkening of Rowan’s eyes tells her he’s contemplating giving her exactly what she wants. 

When his eyes flick to her lips Aelin wishes she’d bothered to brush her teeth last night. 

This is not where she saw her morning going when she was too lazy to call a cab last night but she’s far from complaining. 

The cocky smile that slips onto his lips has her mouth dropping open. Short, sharp breaths draw her chest up and down and Rowan glances down to where she’s not wearing a bra beneath his t-shirt and the sleepy but still predatory smile grows. 

Aelin can’t draw her eyes away from that smile, away from the wicked curve of his lips as his leg shifts closer to her beneath the covers. 

“Aelin, are you-” The burst of light that fills the room as Aedion barges in burns her eyes and Aelin squeezes her eyes shut tight against it. 

“Um, I… Rowan?” Her cousin manages, still frozen in the doorway. 

Aelin knows what this looks like, Rowan is almost on top of her and she knows she’s flushed from his proximity. 

He clears his throat as he eases back away from her, the cool air that fills the space between them clears her head enough for her eyes to flicker open. 

“Yeah, I decided to come home last night instead.” His voice is tight, Aelin notes with a hint of pride. “Didn’t know you were offering out my bed while I was gone.”

Aelin can only bite her lip in what she hopes in a not-guilty expression. From the pure bewilderment clouding Aedion’s expression she’s not sure she achieves it. 

“You weren’t supposed to be back until later,” Aedion says, his voice still sounding strangled. “I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” 

Aelin snorts, tugging herself up to sit against the headboard, her thigh pressing against Rowan’s bare shoulder. His green eyes dart to the point of contact before locking onto her own and that gaze makes Aelin blush all over again. 

Rowan huffs a laugh as Aelin says, “Yeah, me neither.” 

She can’t draw her eyes away from Rowan’s face. She doesn’t care that he’s probably boring or uptight as she guessed in her snooping through his bedroom last night as long as he keeps on looking at her like that. 

“Aedion,” She says in a low voice as she manages to draw her gaze from Rowan, who’s firm shoulder is brushing against her thigh beneath the duvet. “Get out.”

[seancekitsch]

Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret  joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest,  as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.  

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends. 

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 27/28

Last time, Gold essentially told Neal that he was his father, and it didn't go all that well. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

-

Belle licked her lips somewhat nervously as she approached the entrance to the park. It was a walk she and Gold had taken before, though not since she had given birth, and it felt strange to be out on her own with Gideon in his stroller. The maple trees were thick with leaves, the air pleasantly warm in the late spring sunshine, and she pushed the stroller at a sedate pace, eyes casting right and left for any sign of her father.

He was waiting for her near the diner entrance, baseball cap twisting in his big hands, his shoulders a little hunched, and she was surprised to feel a sense of relief at his own signs of nervousness. He smiled awkwardly as she approached, cramming the hat back on his head and wiping his hands on his jeans before stomping over to meet her halfway.

“Hey,” she said. “Right on time.”

“Yeah, traffic wasn’t too bad,” he said gruffly.

He hesitated before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Belle put her free arm around him, and he surprised her again with a quick hug before drawing back.

“So, this is the little fella, is it?” he said heartily, peering into the stroller. “He doing okay?”

“Keeping us up at night,” said Belle. “Alex tends to get up to see to him, though.”

Moe’s smile slipped a little at the mention of Gold’s name, but he nodded.

“He’ll soon settle down, I guess,” he said. “Took you a little while to start sleeping through.”

There was a moment of silence, and Belle tried to think of something else to say. Moe lifted a hand to gesture towards the diner and let it fall against his thigh with an awkward slap.

“Uh - shall we go and see about something to eat?” he ventured.

Belle nodded, and he went to hold open the diner door for her to enter with the stroller. By the time they were seated, their coats off and drinks and food ordered, Gideon had woken up and was staring around with bright-eyed interest. Belle struggled to pick him up out of the stroller with her broken arm, and Moe took over, unfastening the straps and scooping him up in the crochet blanket of soft yellow wool.

“Here we go, little man,” said Moe. “You come and sit with Grandad.”

Belle couldn’t help smiling as he bounced Gideon gently in the crook of one arm.

“Seems a sharp little mite,” he said, grinning as Gideon grasped his finger. “Strong grip.”

“I think he might end up with your height,” said Belle. “He’s got long legs.”

“Nice to think he’ll have something from our side, I suppose,” said Moe. “Not got your eyes.”

“Eye colour can change,” she said. “Hair colour, too. But yes, I think he’ll have brown eyes in the end.”

Moe grunted, but didn’t comment further. The waitress brought their drinks: iced tea for Belle and beer for her father, and she stirred the tea with a straw before taking a drink. He sipped at his beer, looking out the window towards the park.

“Looks like a nice neighbourhood,” he observed.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“I guess Gold likes his comforts.”

“No reason he shouldn’t, is there?” said Belle, a little stiffly.

He shrugged, and there was a moment of awkward silence. She prayed that he wasn’t going to pick a fight five minutes into their reconciliation.

“So,” said Moe. “This is your life now, is it? You’re staying in Boston?”

“Until I finish my studies, yes,” she said.

“And after that?”

“Well, I need to find a librarian post,” she said. “So we’ll see.”

“Guess you won’t be back to Storybrooke, then.”

“Not unless the library opens up again.”

“Always thought you might work with me in the shop,” he grumbled, and she sighed.

“That was alright to help out and for something to do between my studies, but you know it was never my interest,” she said. “Besides, I don’t have your talent for it.”

“So you’ll be moving elsewhere?” he said. “Maybe to the other end of the country?”

“I don’t know, Dad.” He grunted, and she added: “I’m not thinking that far ahead, to be honest. Let me get my Master’s out of the way and we’ll see.”

He grunted again.

“How’s the shop doing, anyway?” she asked, in a bid to get off the topic of her life plans. Moe grimaced.

“It’s going okay. Lot of work for one person.”

“I told you to get some help.”

“I told you I couldn’t afford it.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he could if he cut back on the booze, but Belle let it go.

“And how are you feeling?” she asked. “Last time we spoke you said you were going to see the doctor.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward hand.

“Haven’t had time.”

“Dad…”

“Don’t fuss, I’m okay!”

Belle bit her lip and took a sip of tea to keep from snapping in frustration.

“What about you?” he asked after a moment. “You feeling okay?”

Belle wrinkled her nose, but nodded.

“I’m okay,” she said. “A little tired, that’s all.”

“You look thin.”

“Yeah, well, looking after a newborn is pretty hectic,” she said. “I don’t know how people cope alone, I really don’t. Having Alex there has been a godsend, really.”

Moe grumbled something under his breath.

“Took him long enough to step up,” he muttered, and Belle’s mouth flattened.

“He didn’t know I was pregnant,” she said coolly. “The moment he did, he turned his life upside down to provide for me and the baby. Do I need to remind you of the level of support I had from you?”

Moe looked uncomfortable.

“I thought we’d moved past that,” he said. “I told you I wasn’t proud of myself.”

“Oh, and while we’re on the subject,” added Belle, voice sharp with her rising irritation. “What did you think you were doing, telling Alex I was engaged to Gaston, of all people?”

His discomfort seemed to grow, and he shifted in his seat as though he would rather be elsewhere.

“I just wanted what was best for you,” he muttered. “Thought it’d make him back off.”

“He couldn’t have backed off any further if he tried,” she said tartly. “Our break-up was pretty extreme, if you recall.”

Moe looked down at Gideon, who was still staring up at him curiously, and sighed.

“Look, I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said awkwardly. “Not like I knew what would happen. I never wanted you mixed up with that man.”

“Well, I did get mixed up with him,” said Belle bluntly. “We’re now in a committed relationship, and he’s the father of your grandson. And of future grandchildren, if I have any say in the matter.”

Moe looked up sharply, mouth open, and the outraged look on his face made her want to giggle, even as she clicked her tongue in exasperation.

“He’s changed,” she said. “He’s not the same person that broke up with me. He’s facing his issues and being honest with me, and with himself.”

“First time for everything.”

“He’s well aware of his failings,” she said sharply. “He wants to make up for what he did. He already is!”

Moe grumbled something incomprehensible, turning the beer glass between his fingers, and Belle wanted to snatch it out of his hand and dump it over his head. She swallowed her anger down and concentrated on trying to make him see sense.

“He’s good to me, and to Gideon,” she went on. “He’s a wonderful father, and I think he’ll be a wonderful partner, too. He’s already made himself indispensable; I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“It’s a start, I suppose,” said Moe grudgingly.

“Plus,” added Belle, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I love him. I know you two don’t exactly get along, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn. Or at least pretend, for Gideon’s sake.”

Moe wrinkled his nose a little, but nodded reluctantly.

“Suppose I can try,” he said ungraciously.

“Suppose that’s all I can ask,” said Belle, in a very dry tone, and sipped at her iced tea.

-

The door had slammed shut when Neal stormed out, and Gold leaned his free hand against it, letting his head drop as he clutched the handle of his cane. For a brief moment he considered going after Neal, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. He would need both time and space to process the idea that - what? That he had a father who wanted him? Who had searched for him? Who had failed to protect him?

The oven beeped cheerfully from the kitchen, announcing that the brownies were done. Gold sighed, pushing back from the door and making his way to the kitchen on feet that felt like lead. His mind was a tangled mess, filled with loud admonitions, heavy, cloying guilt and the biting shards of anxiety. It took all of his concentration to get the brownie pan out of the oven, and he still managed to burn his thumb, dropping the pan of brownies onto the cooling rack with a curse hissed out through gritted teeth. He rushed to run the burned skin under the cold tap, eyeing the pale ghost of his reflection in the kitchen window. He looked sad and drawn, insubstantial, as though a part of him had left the apartment along with his son. His son.

Gold shut off the water, leaning on the sink, shoulders hunching as they began to shake with his weeping. He sucked in air, trying to calm himself, but it was as though a dam had broken inside him, torrents of emotion pouring through to drown him. He lifted a shaking hand to wipe his eyes and burst into fresh tears, leaning on the counter to hold himself up as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

Somehow he managed to get the cane underneath himself and make his way into the lounge, where he dropped onto the couch and buried his head in his hands, his body wracked with heavy, choking sobs. Bae was alive. Alive and well, and with a son of his own. It was more than he could have hoped for. More than he deserved. It was too much.

-

Belle rolled her shoulders in an attempt to work out the tension as she made her way up the street to the apartment building, the cool of the evening just enough to make her shiver. Gideon dozed in the stroller, oblivious to passing strangers and the steady hum of traffic, and Belle turned to avoid another woman with a stroller, a jogger veering around both of them before carrying on his way at a steady pace.

She had sent Gold a text to let him know that she was on her way back, but he hadn’t responded. Belle hoped that that meant he had been taking a nap; he needed to if he was going to insist on getting up with Gideon every night. What she had told her father about his indispensability was true, and she was aware that the drive and determination that had made him a successful businessman had the potential to break him. He would run himself into the ground trying to care for her and his son if she didn’t remind him to rest.

All things considered, the meeting with her father could have gone a lot worse. He had shown an interest in Gideon, had almost apologised for lying about Gaston, and had seemed, if not exactly enthusiastic about Gold being in her life, at least grudgingly accepting. Over the meal, she had encouraged him to speak further about the flower shop, and life in Storybrooke, and once they were off the topic of her relationship, he was relatively pleasant company. It was a start.

She called a cheerful greeting to Marco as she entered the apartment building, heading for the elevator and letting out a sigh of relief as the doors swished closed and it made its way upwards. The corridor leading to the apartment was silent, and she opened the door, pushing it closed behind her and locking it. A quick peek into the bedroom told her that Gold wasn’t sleeping. The apartment smelled like warm chocolate, and she suspected that he’d been baking something. She shook her head with a fond smile; it seemed she would have to force him to take a break after all.

“Hey!” she called. “I’m back, and I managed not to yell or storm out of the diner, so that’s progress, don’t you think?”

She opened the lounge door, putting her head around it, and Gold glanced up from where he sat on the couch, elbows on knees, his head having been buried in his hands. He had been crying, his face wet with tears, his eyes glistening. She hurried over, falling to her knees on the rug at his feet and putting her hand on his thigh.

“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously. “What is it?”

“It’s him,” wept Gold. “Neal. It’s him. He’s my son. He’s my boy.”

He began to cry again, his face crumpling, and Belle pushed up on her knees, sliding her free hand over his shoulder and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“But that’s wonderful!” she said excitedly, sitting back on her heels as her fingers combed through his hair. “How did you find out? Did you talk to him?”

“He came over.” Gold wiped his eyes, dashing away tears. “Dropped off some books for you. They’re in the kitchen.”

“Never mind the books,” said Belle impatiently, and he let out a laugh that was almost a sob.

“That must be the first time you’ve ever said that.”

“What did Neal say?” she persisted. “What did you say?”

“I - I was just talking, really,” he said, his voice still trembling. “About Milah, about Bae. And - and I mentioned Milah’s name, and the name she had given our son, and - and that’s when he knew, I think.”

“So it’s really him?” asked Belle. “It’s really Bae? He must have changed his name.”

“He did.” Gold nodded rapidly. “He changed it. He told me. He - God, Belle, he just left! I told him, and - and he stormed out! I - I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What if he won’t talk to me?”

Belle drew back a little, hand sliding on the smooth wool of his pants.

“I think you should give him some time,” she said gently. “It’s a lot to process. For both of you.”

“Yes.” Gold ducked his head, nodding again. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“He’ll need time and space to think about it,” she added. “And I suppose he’ll want to talk to Emma about it, too.”

Gold nodded, lower lip trembling.

“In the meantime,” she said. “I think you should call Archie, tell him what’s happened.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“You should keep your Friday appointment,” she added. “Gid and I can drive up with you, and I can go and see Dad.”

Gold sat back a little, a tiny smile on his face.

“Your meeting went well, then?”

Belle pulled a face.

“It went okay,” she said. “I only wanted to smack him around the head a couple of times, so I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

Gold’s mouth twisted wryly, as though he understood her feelings.

“I’m glad it went well enough that you want to see him again, though.”

“Yeah.” She sat back on her heels, chewing her lip. “He was happy to see Gideon, anyway.”

“Good.”

He had dropped his eyes, biting anxiously at his lower lip, and she tilted her head to the side a little.

“Try not to worry that Neal left like that,” she said gently. “It must have been a shock, but you can’t think that means he won’t ever talk to you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I know he doesn’t want anything to do with his mother,” she added, “but your part in his early life was very different. You wanted him. That must mean something.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “But what?”

He glanced up at her, dark eyes wide and anxious and filled with fear, and her heart broke for all the love he had inside him, and all the years he had kept it hidden away and locked up tight to stop it hurting him.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “All you can do is be patient with him, and I’m sure he’ll talk to you. I gave Emma your number. Maybe he’ll use it.”

Gold smiled, another tear spilling over and tracking its way down to run over the curve of his lower lip. His hand cupped her cheek, his touch warm, and he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers, breath sighing out to brush her lips.

“Thank you, Belle,” he whispered. “I already owe you more than I can ever repay, and now you’ve led me back to my son. Thank you.”

She smiled, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair as she nuzzled his nose with hers.

“It’s fate,” she whispered. “It wasn’t my doing, it was just meant to be.”

“And without you, I would never have found him,” he said softly. “Thank you, Belle. I love you.”

He kissed her forehead, his lips a soft, wet circle between her eyes, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Belle kissed him gently, lips pulling, tasting the salt of his tears, and Gideon broke into a grumbling cry behind them, making them break the kiss with a soft chuckle.

“I’ll see to him,” she said, and pushed to her feet. “What can I smell, by the way?”

“Oh - brownies,” he said, sitting back and wiping his eyes again. “Can I get you one?”

“Please.” She smiled at him. “Shall we have some tea? And then you and I can curl up and have an early night. I think we both need some sleep.”

Gold returned the smile, and nodded.

“I am in your hands.”

-

Belle leaned on the kitchen counter, listening to the low hiss of the kettle as the water began to heat. Gold had gone to take a shower after putting Gideon to bed, and she was making a cup of chamomile tea for them both, hoping it would help him get some sleep. Her phone buzzed urgently in the pocket of her loose pants, and she fished it out, smiling a little as she saw Emma’s name on the screen. She swiped with her thumb to answer, nudging the kitchen door closed with a foot.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

“Holy shit, Belle!” exclaimed Emma. “What the fuck?”

Belle sighed, leaning back against the worktop.

“I know,” she said.

“This is - I mean this is insane!”

“Tell me about it,” said Belle, with feeling. “How’s Neal coping?”

Emma sighed heavily.

“Still kind of freaking out,” she admitted. “How’s Alex?”

“He stopped crying, so that’s progress.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What do we do?” asked Emma. “This is huge.”

“I told Alexander that Neal was gonna need some time to process the idea,” said Belle. “I think they both will. Alex has spent decades looking for him, and to actually find him, not just a random stranger, but one of my best friends… he’s feeling kind of overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed is an understatement,” said Emma. “We haven’t said anything to Henry, by the way.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you would,” said Belle. “I won’t mention it, of course.”

“Thanks.”

Another moment of silence. Belle hesitated before speaking.

“What’s your gut feeling on how this’ll go?” she asked, and heard Emma inhale deeply.

“Honestly? I don’t know right now. It’s brought back a lot of the crap he was dealing with in therapy, so I’m hoping he goes to see his therapist again. I mean he spent a lot of time dealing with his mother abandoning him, but this is a whole new thing.”

“Yeah, Alex is seeing his therapist on Friday.”

“Hey, maybe we could get a discount for multiple referrals.”

Belle chuckled.

“I doubt Neal wants to drive to Maine each week.”

“Guess not.” Emma was silent for a moment. “How are you coping?”

“Saw Dad today,” said Belle. “He managed not to piss me off too much, so that’s progress.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, he seems to want to patch things up,” she said. “I don’t think he and Alex are ever gonna be the best of friends, but I’m hoping we might at least be able to dump the hostility.”

“Knock their heads together if they’re gonna be assholes about it.”

“Yeah.” Belle sighed. “Right now it’s the least of my worries. I need to concentrate on Gideon and - well, and Alexander. He’s been making really good progress at opening up and being honest with me. I don’t want him to start reverting because things get difficult, you know?”

“You should get him to talk about it,” suggested Emma. “Don’t let him sit and brood. I’ll do the same with Neal.”

“Okay. Good idea.”

“Well, I’d better go,” said Emma. “I think that’s him back from the store. Call you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Thanks, Emma, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Emma rang off, and Belle slipped the phone into her pocket, hearing the shower shut off. She turned back to the tea, pouring hot water onto bags of dried chamomile flowers and stirring. Emma hadn’t given an outright no to Neal wanting to accept Gold, and that gave her hope for a happy ending. After all their years of loss and pain, they deserved it.

-

The next day dawned dull and cloudy, which suited Gold’s mood. He had checked his phone several times during the night, just in case Neal had sent a message. Nothing. He supposed that wasn’t surprising. Belle had been the one to get up with Gideon in the night, telling him firmly to stay in bed, but sleep had been elusive, and so he found himself making coffee at five-thirty in the morning with grainy eyes and a heavy ball of anxiety in his belly.

He carried the cup of coffee through to the lounge and sat down, staring out through the window as the city came to life. His eyes strayed to the toy rabbit, tucked onto the end of one of Belle’s bookshelves, and after a moment he got up to take it down. Sitting back down, he turned the rabbit between his hands, the familiar feel of soft plush fur against his fingertips. He wondered if Neal would remember it, if he would remember anything of the short time they had had together. Not for the first time, he felt a surge of anger at Milah for taking him away, but his rage burned brief and hot, quenched by a heavy wave of overwhelming sadness for all they had lost. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he blinked them away, shaking his head. What’s done is done.

“You know, you really should rest.”

Belle’s voice made him look around with a sad smile. She was leaning in the doorway, the light from the hallway behind her, but he could see the look of sympathy in her eyes. It only made him want to cry again.

“It’s early,” he said. “Go back to bed.”

“I will if you come with me.”

His smile grew, and he set the rabbit down on the coffee table, propped up against Belle’s book pile.

“Alright,” he said. “But I’m bringing my coffee.”

“Deal.”

Lying down beside her felt good, his tired body sinking into the mattress as her arm went around him, and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Try to get some sleep,” she said softly. “I can get up to feed Gideon. You need to rest if you’re not gonna fall on your face.”

“I’ll try,” he murmured.

He could already feel his eyes sliding closed, Belle’s warmth and scent a balm to his soul. The coffee grew cold on the nightstand.

-

He woke with a start to find the bed beside him empty. Glancing at the clock he swore under his breath. Ten seventeen? Fuck!

He bounced out of bed, grabbing his robe and pulling it on as he grasped his cane and headed for the kitchen. Belle was making tea, and smiled brightly as he entered.

“Morning sleepyhead,” she teased. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” he admitted. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“I think you needed it.”

“Yes.”

He had needed it. He certainly felt better, although that underlying fear was still there, creeping beneath his skin.

“How’s Gideon?” he asked. “I didn’t hear a thing. Must have slept like the dead.”

“He was pretty quiet,” she said. “I fed him and changed him - gotta say it’s not that easy with one working arm - and now he’s sleeping.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Just tea so far.”

“In that case why don’t I make it?”

He opened the fridge, taking out a pack of bacon and fumbling it in his tiredness. The bacon hit the floor with a slap, and Gold sighed.

“You know what?” announced Belle. “I think it’s a little late for breakfast. What do you say to going out for brunch? We could go to the diner. Eggs Benedict, coffee and cinnamon Danish.”

He smiled, bending to retrieve the bacon.

“That sounds perfect.”

-

By the time they had drunk their tea, and Gold had dressed, Gideon was awake and clamouring for attention. He took over from Belle, changing and dressing him before tucking him into the stroller. He took a seat on the couch while Belle was tying up her hair, one eye on the stroller, and checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. His mouth flattened when he saw there were no messages, and when he looked up Belle was watching him with a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s still early days,” she said, and he nodded.

“I know.”

He turned the phone between his hands restlessly, and Belle put her head to the side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said automatically.

“Do you not want to go out?” she asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “You’re right, I should really eat something.”

“I can live without cinnamon Danish.”

He flashed her a grin.

“Perhaps, but that sounds like a terrible existence.”

Belle giggled, and he slipped the phone into his pocket and pushed to his feet, tugging the cuffs of his jacket straight and grasping his cane.

“Lead on,” he instructed, and she smiled, pushing the stroller towards the door.

“You’ve made the right choice,” she assured him. “I’m sure everything will seem much better after we’ve eaten our own weight in pastries.”

“I’ve no doubt you’re right,” he remarked, still grinning.

“Besides,” she added. “Getting out into the fresh air will do you good. It’s not like staying in the apartment will make a difference, right?”

She pulled open the door, and Neal blinked, fist raised ready to knock. Gold felt his heart leap into his mouth and pound against the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, trying not to let his raging anxiety show on his face.

“Neal!” gasped Belle. “You scared me half to death!”

“Hey,” said Neal, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry. Bad timing, I guess.”

“Not at all,” said Gold, his tone light.

Belle glanced at him, and then at Neal, and beamed.

“Uh - you know what?” she said brightly. “I think I’ll just - uh - I’ll go on ahead and wait in the diner. I could really use a cup of coffee. I’ll see you later.”

She scurried off before Gold had a chance to object, and he raised a hand and ran it through his hair, trying to think of something to say.

“Well,” he said, to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” Neal hunched his shoulders a little. “I - uh - I guess we need to talk.”

“Yes.” Gold hesitated, then stepped back and held open the door. “Please. Come on in.”

Neal seemed to slip past him, shoulders lifted awkwardly and body twisting, as though he wanted to be sure they didn’t touch. It made Gold’s heart sink a little, but he reminded himself that Neal could have avoided him altogether. The fact that he had come over at all was promising. He shut the door behind them, following Neal into the lounge.

“Can I get you something?” he asked. “Coffee?”

Neal shook his head, and Gold gestured to the couch before sitting in his chair, setting his cane to the side. Neal perched on the edge of the couch, threading his fingers together nervously, and Gold was reminded of himself in Dr Hopper’s office. The thought made him want to smile.

“I’m glad you came over,” he said gently.

“Getting news like that isn’t the kind of thing you can just ignore,” said Neal.

“Perhaps not,” agreed Gold. “But even so, I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again. At least not right away.”

Neal shrugged awkwardly.

“I spoke to Emma,” he said. “And - and I know she didn’t say anything to you about my mother, and she’s the only one who knew her name. So there’s no way you could know unless - unless you knew, right?”

“I suppose not.”

“So I figured we should probably talk.”

“Right.”

Silence, but for the gentle tick of the clock on the lounge wall. Gold threaded his fingers together, in and out, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t trite or just plain desperate.

“I’m sure you must have questions,” he said. “I’ll try to answer them. Whatever you ask me.”

“Okay.”

Gold waited for him to speak, but there was only silence. He bit his tongue to keep from filling it with his own pointless rambling. Neal was looking at the floor between his feet, but after a moment he picked up the toy rabbit on the coffee table, turning it over in his hands.

“That belonged to you,” said Gold, making him look up.

“Yeah, so Belle said. At least - she said it belonged to your son.”

“It’s all I had left,” said Gold quietly. “Milah - your mother took all the pictures. Not sure what became of them.”

“I dunno.” Neal looked uncomfortable. “I don’t have ‘em. Maybe she took them with her. Maybe she threw them away.”

“I hope not.”

Gold thought it was the most likely explanation, but decided against saying so.

“I don’t suppose you remember me,” he added, and Neal wrinkled his nose.

“Sorry.”

“That’s alright. You were very young.”

“I kind of remember this.” Neal held up the rabbit, ears flopping from side to side as he did so. “I mean I don’t have a clear memory of it, or anything, but it seems - familiar.”

Gold smiled wistfully.

“That was your favourite toy.” he said. “When your mother took you, she left it behind. I was frantic. Wondered how you’d sleep without it. I suppose she got you something else.”

“I think there was a bear at some point.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Like you say, I was very young.”

He ducked his head, and Gold tried again.

“I used to tuck it in bed with you when I read you stories at night,” he said. “You liked to be read to. You liked painting too; I’d put paper down on the kitchen table and you’d make a wonderful mess with the colours.”

Neal said nothing, thumbs stroking the fur on the rabbit’s cheeks. Gold wondered what he was thinking.

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d said you didn’t want anything to do with me, you know,” he said. “I’m sure you blame me for a great many things, and sometimes it’s easier to make a clean break to spare yourself more pain.”

Neal looked up at that, dropping the rabbit back on the table and sitting back a little.

“Like you tried with Belle, you mean?”

His voice was flat, and Gold inclined his head.

“I deserved that,” he said quietly. “Breaking up with Belle was a terrible thing to do. It was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. I was a coward, and I pushed her away. You are clearly far braver than I.”

Neal glanced away, his mouth twisting, but after a moment he looked up.

“Why did my mother leave?” he asked, and Gold let one shoulder rise and fall in a half-shrug.

“She and I were incompatible,” he said simply. “She wanted travel and excitement and lots of attention, and I wanted to provide a stable, secure home for my son. There wasn’t much we could have compromised on, looking back.”

“Guess not.”

“Perhaps it was my fault,” he added. “I knew she was unhappy, but I don’t think I realised the extent of that unhappiness. I never thought that she’d leave and take you with her. Looking back I should have. She was always - restless. Never content. Always chasing whatever she thought was over the horizon.”

“Yeah, I remember that we never stayed in one place long,” said Neal. “One day she’d decide it was time to move on, and we’d take the car and go. I guess maybe it was because she hadn’t paid the rent or something, right? She used to tell me it was an adventure. I don’t even remember going to school all that much.”

Gold shook his head, anger at Milah bubbling up once more after years of simmering beneath the surface. He tried to swallow his rage; Neal didn’t need to see it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should have protected you. I should have made sure she couldn’t take you from me. I - I tried to find you, I swear! I searched everywhere I could think of, followed every lead...”

“Yeah, well, when I got older, I guess I looked for you too,” said Neal, shoulders hunching a little. “Hit a dead end pretty much straight away. How come you weren’t on my birth certificate?”

Gold spread his hands, palms upward.

“Because I didn’t know,” he said simply. “As I said, by the time she saw fit to tell me I had a son, you were eighteen months old, and I was young and stupid and didn’t realise the importance of being formally named as your father. Another mistake I’ve been kicking myself over.”

“Was she with someone else?” asked Neal. “Before she came back to you, I mean.”

Gold pulled a face.

“I presume so,” he said. “She never liked to be alone, it has to be said. When she left I assumed she’d had a better offer.”

“So - so how did you know?” asked Neal, ducking his head a little and looking up through dark lashes. “You said you knew I was your son. How? Maybe she lied to you about that, too.”

“Maybe she did,” admitted Gold. “I can only tell you what I felt in my heart when I held you for the first time. I could feel that you were mine. It’s hard to explain.”

Neal wrinkled his nose, glancing away for a moment.

“No, I kind of get it,” he said. “I felt like that with Henry.”

“But with Henry there was no question that you were his father, was there?”

“No, of course not,” said Neal. “But I still get what you mean. It’s - it’s like there’s a bond there. Instant love, right?”

“Right,” said Gold softly. “That’s it exactly.”

Neal nodded, looking down at his joined fingers and swallowing hard.

“You were really looking for me?” he whispered. “All this time?”

“Ever since I lost you.”

Gold could feel a lump in his throat, tears threatening to well up and spill over once more, but Neal shook his head.

“No!”

He pushed to his feet, hands opening and closing as he paced back and forth, shaking his head. Gold got to his feet, stepping forward and grounding the cane between his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs, and Neal whirled to face him.

“I know how much you hurt Belle, how you forced her out of your life,” he said. “How do I know you won’t do that to me? How do I know you won’t do it to Henry?”

“Please!” Gold could hear the desperation in his voice. “I swear to you, I would never do that!”

“Why not?” demanded Neal. “You did it to Belle. You claim to love her now, but you pushed her away like she was nothing!”

“I pushed Belle away because I was afraid,” said Gold, his voice shaking a little. “It was a terrible, hurtful thing to do, and I regret it every day! But I swear to you, son, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, and - and being the best father to Gideon. And - and if you let me, I want to be the best father I can to you, too.”

Neal shook his head, pacing back and forth.

“Man, I turned my back on my parents years ago!” he protested. “I thought I was done with this! I’d made up my mind that you either didn’t know or didn’t care and I’d made my peace with it! And now - what? You want to play happy families? You can’t make it right! You can't open the story of my life and go to page 738 and think you know me!”

“I know that,” said Gold gently. “I know. You and I have missed time together that we are never gonna get back, and there’s nothing I can do to make it right. I know that.”

Neal ducked his head, almost as though it hadn’t been what he had expected to hear. Almost as though he had wanted reassurance instead of reality.

“But I want to try to build something,” Gold went on. “I want us to - to have the best relationship we can. I’m well aware that I’ve missed almost the whole of your life, and it kills me, son. I swear that I will do whatever it takes to win your trust and - and be a family.”

Neal was silent, staring at him for a moment, and then he let out a heavy sigh, running his hands over his face.

“I don’t know what you could do,” he said. “I don’t know what anyone does in this situation.”

“No,” admitted Gold. “I don’t think there’s a protocol for this sort of thing.”

“Should maybe ask one of those shows where they find long-lost family members.”

“Oh, believe me, I went on a number of those,” said Gold dryly. “With no photographs of you I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I tried anyway.”

“Wow.” Neal shook his head. “That must have been—”

“Soul-destroying,” Gold supplied quietly. “But it was all I could think of left to try.”

Neal stared at him for a long moment, then let out a mirthless chuckle.

“I guess this makes Gideon Henry’s uncle, huh?” he said. “That’s weird.”

Gold smiled, a little thrown by the abrupt change of subject.

“Yes,” he said. “Would Henry mind, do you think?”

“Probably take it in his stride,” said Neal, with a shrug. “He doesn’t let much faze him.”

“He seems a very bright boy,” said Gold, and he smiled.

“Yeah, he’s amazing” He shifted, toes scuffing the rug a little. “I don’t want him hurt. You get that, right?”

“It’s the last thing I want, believe me,” said Gold sincerely, and Neal nodded.

“Emma and I haven’t said anything to him,” he said. “Figured I’d talk to you first.”

“I understand,” said Gold. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s not just that,” said Neal. “More like - we don’t actually know, do we? I know you think you’re my dad, but from what you say, my mother could have been lying. Guess there’s only one way to know for sure.”

Gold felt himself relax a little further.

“A test, you mean?” he asked. “Yes. I could arrange that, if you’re willing.”

“I’d rather know than not, wouldn’t you?”

“It wouldn’t make any difference to me,” said Gold. “But I can understand why it might to you.”

Neal blinked.

“It wouldn’t?” he asked, looking surprised, and Gold smiled.

“You’ve been my son in my heart from the moment I knew of your existence,” he said calmly. “Test results wouldn’t change that.”

Neal stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.

“You really mean that?” he asked quietly. “You’d really want to be a family with - with someone who isn’t even your kid?”

Gold licked his lips, hands folding over the handle of his cane.

“My father never wanted me,” he said bluntly. “He made it very clear throughout his life that I was nothing but a drain on his time, his money and his spirit. When I lost you, he told me I should count my blessings. That I’d been given a second chance at life, and I should make the most of it.” He shook his head. “Family - true family - it isn’t about blood. It’s about those you choose to be with.”

Neal pressed his hands together in front of his face, almost as though he was praying.

“Emma said that to me once,” he said quietly. “Back when we first got serious.”

“She seems like an extraordinary young woman,” said Gold.

“She’s the best,” said Neal immediately. “Way too good for me. I guess maybe that’s something we have in common, huh?”

Gold let out a soft chuckle. There was a moment of silence, and Neal let his hands drop to his sides, shaking his head a little.

“Papa?” he whispered. “Is it really you?”

Gold’s self-control crumbled, tears spilling over as his lip wobbled uncontrollably.

“Oh God, Bae!” he wept. “Oh God, I’m sorry! I am so, so sorry!”

He reached out, desperate to touch his son, expecting him to recoil, but Neal stepped forward, hesitating only slightly before throwing his arms around him and hugging him tight. Gold wept, clinging to him as he felt a loosening in his chest, a lifting of the heavy weight of grief and guilt. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but when Neal drew back he too had tears in his eyes. Gold smiled, trying to steady his trembling lip.

“I guess Belle must be wondering where you are,” said Neal, his voice a little rough with emotion. “This is so weird. It’s almost like she’s my stepmother.”

Gold laughed.

“I’m sure she won’t mind that,” he said.

“You should marry her.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he said. “If she’ll have me.”

“Are you kidding?” Neal shook his head, dashing tears from his cheeks with a thumb. “She’s crazy about you.”

“Then I’m possibly the luckiest man on this earth,” said Gold.

“Something else we have in common.”

They shared a grin, and Gold made a decision.

“Would you come to brunch with us?” he asked. “You could invite Emma and Henry, if you like.”

Neal ran his hands over his face and let out a tearful chuckle.

“What the hell,” he said. “Brunch it is.”

[hellfirelover]

fated by the moon 🌕✨

(also posted by setting_sunrise on wattpad)

fandom: harry potter | marauder's era

pairing: remus lupin x oc (meredith)

summary: the moon has been haunting meredith for a very long time. and yet, she falls for the boy who is cursed by the moon.

word count: 2k5

user's masterlist

part one: mead and red wine

One of the few things I could count on most with the boys was their ability to always get us booze.

Rosemerta walked toward our table, sighing in a defeated manner as she came to fuel our goblets with more mead. The Three Broomsticks was a trusted establishment that frequently supported patrons from Hogwarts; both student and Professor. Though no matter how trusted the establishment seemed, Sirius and James had always managed to coerce Rosemerta to ignore their age and pour the liquid. Half of my suspicion for her leniency was more so away from the devilish grins the two boys showed her, but on the fact that Remus had always promised to keep everyone in check. And he always kept to that promise. None of the misadventures brought on by the boys was ever traced back to the conception of alcohol. Well, at least alcohol from this pub.

I mumbled my thanks to the slightly older barmaid as she moved to fill up Emmeline’s goblet. She tsk-ed us as she did so, all while smiling as she did so. Knowing Rosemerta, she probably was doing the same thing at our age.

“Oh, Rosie what would we do without you?” Sirius dramatically moaned, throwing an arm over the curly blonde and pulling her closer to his body. My eyes lingered on the fingers curled around her hip.

“You’d all have healthier livers that’s for sure,” Rosemerta chuckled, slapping away Sirius’s advances with her washcloth. “Now hurry up and drink before Matthias sees. This is all I’m giving tonight.”

The pub was busy this time of year. A new school year meant celebration for all. Students, Professors, and the parents of said students. And though a busy pub meant more coverage. A busy pub also meant Matthias would be here working today, and he wasn’t as nice as Rosemerta.

“Leave us some for the road?” James asked, giving her doe-like eyes to help to persuade her.

She rolled her eyes once more but didn’t say no. “There’s a bunch of fancy red wines Matthias wants me to get rid of. They’ve been open too long and the only ones that can afford to buy the wine know the difference between a fresh bottle and an old one. Though I know you lot won’t mind.”

“Wine is wine,” Remus agreed, and Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ll leave a crate of old opened reds near the dumpsters.” Rosemerta laughed and left us alone to continue our drinks and conversation. She quickly disappeared into the sea of customers.

“To our first week of Hogwarts!” James cheered, putting up his goblet into the air.

“To passing our O.W.Ls!” Lily offered, putting her own goblet up.

“To demolishing everyone in Quidditch this year!” I added my goblet.

“To dear beautiful Rosie who keeps us well hydrated!” Sirius’s shouted, his voice drowned out by the live music starting the loud cheers all around. We all had our goblets up and clinked each other's drinks before knocking back a large gulp of mead.

Sirius always the one to make a show, chugged more than half of his drink before slamming it back down on the table.

We weren’t the only ones from Hogwarts tonight at The Three Broomsticks. It seemed everyone wanted to celebrate the first week of the school week. Emmeline, Lily, and I had caught up with the four boys as they too made their way down to the town of Hogsmeade. Each of us had the same idea to have fun this Friday night instead of being stuck in our dorms and common room. There was plenty of the year to do that.

“Fulton, you really think you have a chance to win this year?” James asked, cocking an eyebrow up in suspicion. “Haven’t won a championship in - hell, haven’t even competed in the championship in three years. What’s changed?”

I stared right back at the hazel eyes beneath those rectangular glasses. I returned his suspicious and doubting look with a smirk of confidence and nerve. “Belford isn’t Captain anymore. He graduated and is off training to be curse breakers somewhere off in Australia.”

My smirk grew at the slight waver I saw on James’s face. “Who’s Captain?” But he knew. His eyes wouldn’t look as worried as they did now if he didn’t know.

“Naomi Tont,” I grinned and took a large swig of my mead.

“Fuck, I thought we had another year,” Sirius grumbled before knocking his head back and finishing off his goblet. “Tont’s finally having full control over the Ravenclaw team.”

“Belford was too proud to accept suggestions from Tont,” James sighed, pushing his now empty goblet away from him. “That’s what I liked about him.”

“And that’s what we hated about him,” I countered. “Belford was too proud of himself to need anyone else. Especially, Naomi.”

“Belford’s an idiot for not taking advantage of the opportunity,” Lily sneered, sharing the anger for my former Quidditch Captain. “If he had been nice he might’ve gotten close to her dad and the rest of the Holyhead Harpies.”

“Face it. Ravenclaw is going to destroy you this year,” Emmeline snickered, putting the still full goblet up to her lips. “Tont is going to be your downfall, Potter.”

“Competition is good for the soul. Nothing we can’t handle,” Sirius encouragingly slapped his worried Team Captain on the shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Prongsy?”

James nodded and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

We stayed for a couple of songs as we ate our food. The band played very up-tempo and jaunty rhythms perfect for a night light tonight. Half of the customers at the establishment were like us, friends gathered around a table eating and drinking. The other half stood around the pub, near either the band as they danced and sipped on their alcoholic beverages or by the pub to chat up strangers and order more liquid courage. It was tempting to stay. The music filled me with excitement and the mead filled me with energy. Though who to dance with, I wasn’t sure. In fact, I wasn’t really sure I could ask anyone to go out there and dance with me. In reality, I mostly wanted someone to walk up to me and as me to dance. I wanted that push, but it never came. And the confidence from the mead was slowly and quickly disappearing as it was being soaked up by the fried pickles we all shared.

Gladly, I wasn’t the only one disliking the fact that the alcohol was wearing out.

“C’mon, Vance! Drink!” Sirius whined. “I want to get out of here and go pick up the wine.”

“Sirius, let the poor girl enjoy herself,” Remus said. Though his defense stood useless as Emmeline took a deep breath and chugged her goblet dry. “Or… well… nice, Vance.”

She wiped her lips with her sleeve and smiled happily at her accomplishment. “Let’s get that wine!”

We made our way out of the booth and waved goodbye to Rosemerta behind the bar before taking the exit outback. There, just as she promised, a wooden crate filled with half or less than half-full bottles of red wine. All too aired out for the clientele Matthias was catering to.

Sirius pulled out his wand from his right black boot and pointed it at the wine crate. “Reducio!”

The crate that held 12 bottles shrunk down to the size of a teacup. Sirius happily picked up the small crate in front of him and held it in his fist. “Let’s share our loot with the rest of Gryffindor. See if any of our peers have anything in their hidden stash. Fulton, spread the word to the Ravenclaw tower. Big beginning of the year bash at the Gryffindor tower. Spread the word. Come one and come all to the lion’s den!”

“Bloody hell if we invite the Ravenclaws we have to invite the others.” Remus groaned, and I could tell he was beginning to think with his Prefect brain.

We began to make our way back up to the castle. The sky was filled with brightly lit stars shining through the twilight sky, the sun had just set. The owls were beginning to fly into the Owlery getting ready for sleep. The air still held its summer warmth.

The boys and Lily made their way back to the Gryffindor tower as Emmeline and I went to inform our fellow Ravenclaws about the impromptu party. We caught Benjy Fenwick in the halls and told him to spread the message to the Hufflepuffs. We mentioned the party to a couple of curious-looking Slytherins but did not make the effort to visit the dungeons.

After spreading the message, Emmeline and I went back to the Gryffindor tower where Sirius let us in. Music was playing on the record player and was almost muffled by the gathering already happening. Peter came up to us with two filled goblets of red wine, and as we sipped at it we realized Rosemerta was right. We didn’t know what the hell the difference in taste was with left-out-too-long wine. Sirius too made a correct prediction, that others would bring along booze to share.

Marlene McKinnon brought out two bottles of fire whisky from under her bed while Frank Longbottom supplied us with pixie shots.

Benjy Fenwick and Dorcas Meadows came in, followed by a crowd of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. I noticed a couple of Slytherins in the bunch of newcomers, Cassia and Evan Rosier, both in my year. They seemed content to be the only two snakes in the crowd of lions, eagles, and badgers.

“It’s only a matter of time before McGonagall gets up,” Lily sighed, but the smile on her face stayed. She took a shot glass filled with pink sparkling liquid and hiccuped as it went down. “Bless Remus and I for being such good Prefects.”

I barked out a laugh. “You two are really good at reigning in the crazy.”

“When it comes to the boys who call themselves the marauders, it’s best to pick and choose your battles. A Friday night party before the seriousness of school starts… I’ll let this one slide.”

“Remember that when they get too comfortable with your leniency and blow a dung bomb in the library again.” I winked and took a pixie shot. My head instantly felt fizzy and a hiccup came out.

We took a goblet of wine and sat on the stone steps that lead up to the girl’s dormitory. Occasionally having to lean into the wall to allow the up and down traffic to go through. But we were content where we sat, talking and laughing as we watched our friends make a fool of themselves. I felt that familiar pull to go out there. That desperate need for someone to take my hand and dance with me. To be at the mercy of both drink, music, and the grasp of a partner.

“He’s so good at making a mockery of himself,” Lily giggled into her goblet. Her green eyes focused on the shaggy hair Potter boy who was juggling three crumpled-up pieces of parchment into the air. A crowd around him formed as they cheered for James to continue his juggling and quickly booed when he dropped a ball of parchment.

“And you’re so good at noticing his mockery,” I said, unable to hide the teasing in my voice.

Lily rolled her eyes and took a sip of the wine. “He’s so obnoxious it’s hard not to notice.”

“I get on fine ignoring him.”

And just like that, her smile melted away. Lily took another long sip of her wine and leaned her flushed cheeks onto the cold stone wall. “He’s just so… I just hope… I…”

Lily tried to say the words but I nodded in understanding. At the end of last year, she had gotten into with James. It happened the day after James was teasing Severus. Lily’s attempts to put an end to Severus’s humiliation only landed her a broken friendship. She hated Severus for calling her such a name. She expected it from others, but from Severus… it hurt more than ever. She took a lot of that hurt out on James, and to be perfectly honest he deserved a lot of it. Lily yelled at his immaturity and his reproachfulness for being such a bully to someone. How arrogant he was being in treating people and the laughable expectation that she was meant to fancy him back. The words forever echoed in my ears as she said, “If you truly think we are meant to be… know I only fall for good and just people.”

The next day we moved on as if nothing happened. I talked and visited Lily during the summer and she asked me how James was doing. She didn’t like that I pointed out she could owl him anytime. Nonetheless, I told her he was doing fine and helping his dad with the family business. Sirius had ended up staying over for the summer, packing up everything he cared about from Grimmauld Place. The two boys helped Fleamont by attending meetings with him, sorting out his schedule, and visiting the shop where all the Sleekeazy Hair Potion was being created and shipped off.

“Glorified unpaid interns,” Lily had laughed when I told her about it while visiting her home during the summer. How they dressed up in button-up shirts and groaned about their busy working day. They only worked two days out of the week.

“The other five days were filled with either mindless nothing with random bursts of energy and ideas or finding entertainment in drinking Fire Whiskey and smoking Fluxweed,” I said, but I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to tell her how James respected the things she said and that he was making a change. That he was kind and gentle and would be forever for her. Though I knew she wouldn’t hear it because she needed to see it.

But my chest huffed in hope watching her doey eyes watch James attempt his juggling act again.

“I wish this were all easy,” Her words began to slur in my ear. “Just… just knowing what you want and going, and going and just getting it.”

I wanted to laugh at how slurred her speech became, but the words cut too true.

“A lot of it you have to wait to sort itself out,” she grumbled and leaned her head on my shoulder. I leaned my head on top of her ginger dome. “I know what I want but I don’t have the control to get it.”

That was the frustration of it all. Knowing what you want. Picturing exactly how you would get it. But knowing it would never work out unless the other put the work in as well.

Her green eyes continued to stare upon the brown skin and curly-haired Gryffindor. While mine caught notice of a man with long black hair leading the whole room into song.

part two

[salvejoon]

Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 01

⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Death of minor characters, mentions of a car accident, losing a loved one, a child being orphaned, cursing, Jimin being an ass, reader being a bitch.

⇒ A/N: Hey lovelies! I’m back-ish! I’ve been working on this project for months now and I’ve finally found my muse again and so I got to writing more and more chapters for this. Please enjoy the first chapter of hopefully my first series (but not my last). xoxo

“Imo!” Your head shot up at the happy squeal and you bent down to one knee, opening your arms, almost toppling over at the force your niece ran into you.

“Oof!” Your arms closed around her and she buried her nose in your hair as her arms went around your neck, “Hello my pretty little flower.” You drew back and nuzzled her nose with yours to which she frowned. 

“I’ve grown 1 inch so I’m not little anymore.” 

“You’ll always be my pretty little flower, Hyejin. No matter how tall you get.” You picked her up as you stood, groaning briefly as you adjusted her on your hip, “But you are getting a little bit heavy.”

Hyejin giggled, “Appa also says I’m getting heavy. Says his back hurts.” 

“That’s because your Appa is getting old.” 

A hum came from the doorway and you saw Han, your brother-in-law, standing there, looking dapper in a black and white tux, his natural black hair swept back from his face, “You’re the one to talk, Y/N. You’re closer to 30 than I am.” 

You rolled your eyes, “No need to remind me, Han.” You said just as your younger sister, Charlotte gently pushed Han out of the doorframe, looking a little bit frantic, “Missing something?” You asked her as she walked over to the vanity, opening several drawers.

“My watch.”

“The one laying right in front of you?” 

Charlotte sighed heavily as her eyes landed upon her watch, “Thanks.” 

“What would you do without me?” You smirked as she walked over to you and took Hyejin from your arms and her daughter protested with a small whine.

“Can’t I go with you, Eomma?” She asked and glanced longingly at you and her father, “I also want to go to the ball and look pretty.” 

Charlotte chuckled and kissed her forehead, “Another time, baby. This is for grown-ups only.” 

“Why is it always only for adults? I want to go too!” She protested loudly, crossing her arms and pouted.

You ruffled her hair, “How about you and I play dress-up tomorrow, hm? How does that sound? I’ve bought new shoes you can try.” You winked at her and Hyejin’s pout slowly vanished. 

“Can I put make-up on you, Imo?” 

“Sure.” 

Charlotte put her down and bent down just as the doorbell rang, gently wiping her daughter’s hair back from her face, “You be good to Mrs. Shin, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yes, Eomma.” 

You absentmindedly stared out the window as the limousine drove through one of the high-end districts of Seoul. Closed off ground containing High-Rise buildings towered the streets and in between, they were grand mansions. 

You felt out of place here, in this part of town.

You preferred Han and Charlotte’s apartment in the more affordable part of Seoul. 

“Y/N.”

You hummed at the sound of your sister’s voice.

“Promise me you’ll be nice.” 

You shifted your gaze to her and raised a brow, “When am I not nice?” You asked and shook your head when Charlotte sent you a knowing look, “Oh please. Just because he’s going to be there doesn’t mean I won’t be nice.”

Han snorted, “The last time you saw each other, it ended up in the tabloids.” 

You glared at him and tch’ed, “Your brother called me - me - a prude, and I simply wanted him to teach him some manners.”

“You don’t teach someone manners by threatening them, Y/N.” Came the rational voice of Charlotte. 

This time you snorted and rolled your eyes, “Wow, you two really take his side.” 

“We are not but you two should bury that hatchet, whatever it is. He is actually nice once you get to know him.” 

“He’s a conceited asshole that needs to be beaten down a peg or ten. There is nothing nice about him.”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was once a time where you would have taken in the beautiful surroundings of the ballroom with all it’s marble and gold, tall doors, and crystal chandeliers and would have felt like a princess. 

But this wasn’t your first rodeo at a gathering such as this nor would it be your last. 

You hated them now. Well, not hated but found them so superficial because all it was was rich people prancing around with their noses in the air while they had a pissing contest of who had the most money, the fastest car, the grandest of mansions, or the youngest wife.

“Smile.” Charlotte noted as she sat down next to you, followed by Han who had finally managed to break free of one of the old ladies' claws, no doubt talking about finances.

You plastered on a fake smile but said smile quickly vanished when you spotted a familiar face approaching the table. 

You tried to hide your scowl as the man came up to the table, dressed in a burgundy-colored suit that cost more than what you earned in a year, his ears adorned with silver dangling earrings with matching diamond rings on his fingers. The last time you had seen him, he’d donned blonde hair but now it was gray and it was swept back neatly, showing off his face. 

And he had a new chick on his arm.

No surprise there.

Park Jimin was one of the biggest fuckboys you knew, if not the biggest. 

He dragged his eyes from his date to you and a knowing smirk spread on his lips when he saw your scowl. No doubt he was already planning various ways to piss you off. 

“Jimin. Nice of you to show up…” Charlotte glanced at her wristwatch, “20 minutes later than we agreed upon but it’s better than an hour like last time.” 

Jimin removed his eyes from you and looked at your sister with an innocent smile, “I apologize, Charlotte. Things dragged out at the board meeting.” The woman on his arm tugged at it, “And may I introduce Jisoo. My date.” 

Han bowed his head and your sister smiled sweetly at her and you… Well, you ignored them. 

That was until Charlotte jabbed you in the ribs, “Ow! Hi, whatever.” You grumbled, glaring at her before meeting Jisoo’s smiling face and forced your lips upwards. 

“As formal as ever, Y/N.” Jimin drawled before sitting down across from you, his smirk back on his lips, “Where is your date?” 

“I came alone.” You answered stiffly. 

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, “As usual.” 

Arrogant asshole. 

“At least I’m not fucking my way through the female population of Seoul.” 

Jisoo opened her mouth to object but a tap on the mic shut all of you up and you just aimed a glare at him. He met you with one of his own. The tension rose at the table and you heard your brother-in-law sigh softly. 

“It’s going to be a long evening.” You heard him murmur. 

The hours dragged on and so far you’d listened to four long speeches, three performances by some musicians you had never heard of, and had Charlotte remind you of your promise ten times.

You found yourself sitting alone at the table, date-less while your sister was out dancing with Han and Jimin had vanished. 

Probably aiming the money-shot between his date’s breasts.

The image of that left a bad taste in your mouth, so you focused on the dancing people on the floor.

You could easily find a willing dance partner. There were loads of young bachelors at such an event like this but they were so boring to you. You didn’t care about numbers, board meetings, or future merges. Charlotte had given up trying to set you up long ago since you scared most of them away. 

You deemed your independence a part of your charm. Charlotte didn’t agree. 

The ironic part was that the only man here, that could keep up with you, was an arrogant dickwad with a stick so far up his ass, he could pick his teeth with it. 

And he was probably fucking his date at the toilet. There you go again with those thoughts. 

“Ugh.” You shuddered and willed the images away as you picked up your wine glass and took a sip. The best thing about these events was the free booze. 

Too bad you weren’t allowed to get hammered because the last time you got shitfaced, you had dragged Jimin by his collar, trying to get him outside so you could ‘rearrange that stick’. The tabloids had a field day with that instance. It hadn’t been the first time you had threatened to kick his ass and you doubted it would be the last. 

Jimin just knew how to push the right buttons. 

“No one has asked you for a dance yet?” 

Your left eye twitched in annoyance, “No. Not yet. Are you offering?” You asked as you looked at Jimin with a raised brow. 

“No. I prefer my dance partners to be more… graceful. I don’t like getting stepped on.” 

“But I can be graceful, Jimin.” 

“Oh? When?” He asked as he sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. 

“When I step on your throat, choking the life out of you.” 

“Kinky, Y/N. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

You scoffed and leaned back in your chair, “Where’s your date? Recovering from having your filthy hands on her body?”

“And if she is?” 

“Then tell her I know a therapist.” 

Jimin threw you a glare, one you returned with an unimpressed, bored look, “She’s in the restroom.” 

“Trying to wash away her sins, no doubt.”

“Are you jealous, Y/N? You seem oddly fixated on my sexual interactions.” 

You picked up your wine glass and shrugged, “For me to be jealous, Jimin, it would require I had some sort of feelings for you, which I do not other than absolute disgust.” You downed the rest of the wine that was in the glass, deciding you were done entertaining him, “And I’d undoubtedly get more satisfaction by watching old men dance with their young wives than having sex with you.” With that you rose from the table. You flicked a strand of hair over your shoulder as you put your bag on the table, “Now be a good boy and look after my belongings.” 

“Where are you going?” He asked stiffly. 

“To dance, of course. Might step on a toe or two but what the hell.” 

Your escape from the table hadn’t gone as smoothly as you had hoped because Charlotte and Han were nowhere to be found, the men that had approached you were either 60 and above and the bartender hadn’t seemed particularly keen on entertaining you with small talk. So you opted to venture outside instead. 

The air was chilly and you shivered a little, rubbing your arms to regain some heat as you looked up. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled while the moon showered the ground in it’s white glow. It was a pretty evening, really. You had the sudden urge to just lay down on the grass and stargaze. 

You felt something heavy being draped over your shoulders and you turned around to see a pair of dimples and a bright smile. 

You knew those dimples.

And that smile.

Those kind, warm, honeyed eyes. 

Your heart sped up. 

Before you could open your mouth to greet him, Namjoon booped your nose, “Thought I saw you dash outside. Are you avoiding me?” 

You shoved his shoulder, albeit gently with a smile on your lips, “Duh. Of course, I am avoiding you.” 

He frowned, “The sex can’t have been that bad.” He pouted.

You rolled your eyes, “It was terrible. Absolutely terrible.” 

“You really know how to hurt a man's pride, Y/N.” He chuckled and enveloped you in a tight hug, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Joonie. I haven’t seen you in, what, 3 months?” You drew back, “I didn’t know you were attending the fundraiser.”

Namjoon kept his arms around your waist as he sheepishly smiled down at you, “I wasn’t planning on attending since I am so busy lately but when Han told me you’d be here, I had to come.” 

“Aw, my little Joonie bug.” 

He let go of you and you stepped back, “So how is the partnership coming along?” You asked, standing next to him, “Charlotte told me you’ve been super duper uber busy.” 

He sighed, “I have been so fucking busy and work has just been taking up all of my time and I am so tired of it.”

“Oh, Joonie.”

“But I can now call myself partner and a board member of Kim & Co Lawyers.” 

You squealed, your arms finding purchase around his neck as you jumped up and down of excitement, “OH MY GOD! CONGRATULATIONS!” 

Big hand engulfed your face and squished, “Thank you but calm down, sprout. No reason to entertain the whole neighborhood.”

“Buf u gos te parfership.”

“Yes.”

“lso yo ar ruinf te makuf.”

“I am fully aware of that, sprout.” 

“Le gof.”

He chuckled and let go of your face, placing his hands on your shoulders instead, “Thank you. But how are you? Charlotte told me you’d be expanding the brand soon.”

You grinned and nodded, “Yes! I am so excited but at the same time also a little sad. That shop has been my bread and butter for 4 years now but it was about time I listened to my sister and expanded… With the help of some investors, of course.” 

“Well, I am looking forward to seeing you take over the world, Y/N.” 

You snorted and grabbed his hand, “Pfft, I think I’ll just deal with getting my designs on the interwebz first and see how that goes. Now let’s go get some wine and talk shit about other people.” 

“There you are!” You and Namjoon halted your conversation as Charlotte appeared between you, “We’ve been looking for you.”

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sis.”

She glared but there was a teasing glint in her eyes, “Joonie has a habit of stealing your time.” 

“I’m like the most important man in her life, what did you expect?” Namjoon rolled his eyes as Charlotte bumped his shoulder, “Not in the way you want, woman.” 

Your sister huffed and shook her head, “What do I have to pay you to marry Y/N? Seriously, you’re like the only guy that can keep up with her shit and not want to run away.”

“Who says I don’t want to run away?” 

You slapped his arm that was draped over the bar counter, “Fuck you. You love me.” 

“I do but not enough to get my dick wet.” 

“That monster you call a dick wouldn’t fit anyway.” 

“Thank you, I guess, for calling it a monster, Y/N, but I would have made it fit. Preparation is key.” 

“That’s what I keep saying. Foreplay is an important part of-”

“Alright, I clearly interrupted something here so I would just like to give you the heads up and Han and I are going home.” Charlotte interrupted you and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, “He’s drunk and I was getting tired anyway.” 

“Sure. I’ll see you back home.” You said, wiping at your cheek before turning it towards Namjoon, “Do I have a stain?”

He shook his head before accepting a peck on his cheek from Charlotte, “Nope. Looking smooth as always.” 

“You make sure she gets home safely, Joonie.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“And not too late, okay?”

“Bye Charlotte! Love you!” You called as she wandered off, dragging a swaying Han with her towards the entrance.

Jimin sat at the table, Jisoo at his side. He had tuned most of her blabbering out, finding the topic ‘what shoes to wear to her friend’s wedding’ quite boring. Instead, his eyes were trained on the dance floor where not many people were dancing. 

More specifically you and Namjoon that was talking more than dancing and he saw you smile, laughing at how your dance partner seemed to trip over his own feet. 

He scoffed. 

“Are you listening to what I’m saying, baby?”

“Of course, Jisoo. The red pair of shoes sounds good.” 

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, eyes narrowing at the number, he swiped his thumb across the screen.

“Yes?” He said. 

“Jimin, hey, it’s Seokjin.” 

“I could see on the caller-id.”

There was a brief pause and Jimin held up a hand to silence Jisoo when she yanked at his arm. Then there was a beeping sound and the sound of doors being banged open, “Jin, what’s going on?”

“Sorry about that… I don’t know how to say this but you need to come to the hospital.”

“Why?” 

“It’s your brother. Jimin, you need to come and quick.” 

His throat felt as dry as sandpaper as he stood up and hung up, eyes darting to your dancing and laughing form on the dancefloor. 

“Jimin, baby, where are you going?” Jisoo asked him as he took a step, her hands clinging onto his wrist. 

“S-Sorry, I have somewhere I need to be.” He answered, his voice shaky, “I’ll arrange for someone to take you home.” 

“Wait!” She called out as he ran towards you.

You were laughing so hard at how Namjoon had just tripped over his own two feet again when Jimin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist, “What the fuck?” 

“Fun time is over.” Jimin said and tugged you with him as he headed towards the exit.

You yanked your wrist free, Namjoon appearing at your side, “Um no, it isn’t. What’s with you?” You asked him. 

Jimin looked at you and Namjoon, “Y/N.” You raised a brow at the tone of his voice… He sounded scared, “We have to go now.” 

“Did something happen?” You immediately grew worried because Jimin never sounded scared. 

“Seokjin just called me and… Something happened with Han and Charlotte.” 

You had never felt such fear. 

The ride to the hospital was tense and quiet. Jimin drove like a maniac through the streets of Seoul while Namjoon had tagged along as support. The two men sat in the front of the car, exchanging no words whatsoever, leaving you to your thoughts running rampant. 

Then you arrived at the hospital and everything happened so quickly.

A drunk driver collided with their limousine.

Their driver was killed on impact. 

Charlotte and Han were in critical condition.

You had no idea how much time had passed from when you had arrived to when you were sitting on the chair outside the ward, Jimin prancing back and forth like a caged animal.

Then the doctor appeared from the ward and Namjoon was quick to leave your side, going to talk to him.

You stood up, watching as they talked and you felt Jimin’s presence next to you.

Time seemed to slow down when your eyes locked with Namjoon’s, the sadness in his eyes conveying the message you had yet to receive but you knew. 

They were gone. 

You could feel someone wrap their arms around you as you tumbled to the floor, your own piercing wail deaf to your ears as you felt your chest implode on itself with heartbreak. 

Jimin struggled to keep you upright as you collapsed, your cries so very loud in his ears but it didn’t matter. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to hear why you had broken down. It was clear as day by the way Namjoon looked. 

His brother was gone. Your sister was gone. Both of them were gone. 

You cried out her name and Jimin tightened his hold on you when you tried to crawl away from him. 

He might not like you and you may not like him but he knew that you should not go through this pain alone. So when you clutched his shirt so tightly in your balled fists, your cries finally lowering to whimpering and you buried your head in his chest, Jimin held you tight.

The feeling of time was lost on you when you entered Han and Charlotte’s apartment. Your mind was empty and you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating. 

Mrs. Shin appeared as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on a small table. She looked puzzled upon seeing you, and only you, return. 

“Where is…” She trailed off as you grabbed her hand. 

“They’re gone.” Was all you said and her shoulders sagged as she moved her free hand to cover her mouth, “Is she sleeping?”

“She is.” 

You nodded and walked past her, down the hall, towards Hyejin’s room. The door was slightly ajar and you slowly opened it, finding her room dark except for a small lamp in the corner. 

She hated the dark.

Like Charlotte. 

You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the thought of your sister but willed them away. You had to be strong now for Hyejin. 

Nothing else mattered.

Hyejin woke up when her mattress shifted and she turned her head, rubbing one eye, “Eomma?” 

“No, honey. It’s me.” 

She sat up, looking puzzled, “Where’s Eomma? She always comes to kiss me goodnight.” 

You opened your arms and closed them around her tiny frame, “I know.” You placed your head upon hers and took a deep breath, “Listen, sweetie…”

[elisela]

your name like honey on my lips stiles x derek, g, fluff & softness, 1.6k (ao3) for @tylerhunklin‘s prompt: “okay but like…what happens when derek gets too drunk at the bar and stiles has to drag him home…” -- lauren my sweetest love this is likely not what you were expecting but guess what, neither was i so.

--

It’s a bit of a surprise that the bar Stiles was called to abruptly in the middle of the night wasn’t terrible. Stiles had, when he’d finished stumbling into his jeans and made it outside, assumed that any place Scott would choose to get plastered in would be run down and disgusting, lacking appeal in everything except for cheap booze. Scott’s lucky to have a friend like Stiles, honestly, someone who’s willing to drag themselves out of their warm, comfortable bed at half past one in the morning and brave the frigid streets to go pick his drunk ass up. It makes him feel better to tell himself that, to dwell on his response to this situation instead of giving in to the irritation that Scott didn’t even have the decency to tell Stiles he was going out that night.

It was supposed to be Stiles’ night to celebrate; he’s got a brand new master’s degree in hand (okay, he’ll have it when they mail it to him in four to six weeks), he’s got two weeks to do nothing but laze around playing video games in his underwear until he starts his new job, and said job will finally afford him the chance to move out of his ninth-floor walk-up and hopefully into a building where the hallways don’t smell like three week old garbage that’s been left out in the summer heat despite it being January.

He loves Scott. Scott is his best friend in the entire world, the person who’d packed up everything he had and left his hometown just because Stiles had admitted to being lonely in New York; Scott is the person who makes Stiles believe there’s still good in the world. Scott is—

Not at this bar.

There’s hardly anyone in the place, not that he’s surprised—it’s Tuesday, a cold front has swept the city, and anyone with an ounce of sense is home. In bed. He mutters a curse under his breath and steps up to the bar. “Hey man, sorry—I’m Stiles? Someone called, said I needed to come get my buddy?”

The bartender jerks a thumb towards the end of the bar, and Stiles opens his mouth, ready to ask what the hell is going on because that’s not Scott, Scott’s got adorable wavy hair that stills flops down in front of his eyes sometimes, and he’s not nearly as built as this guy is; the guy may be slumped over the bar, head burrowed in his folded arms, but he’s got more muscle on him than Stiles and Scott combined. Whoever this guy is, Stiles doesn’t know him, doesn’t know why he asked the bartender to call Stiles to pick him up or how he even has his number, because Stiles only knows one person with a body like that and there’s no way that—

“You said adorable,” he hisses as the bartender, pointing wildly in Derek’s direction, because of course it’s the guy he regularly makes a fool of himself in front of over there, the one who he’s pretty sure can’t stand him even though Stiles has tried at least seventy-eight different ways to get his attention. “You said talkative. You said—”

He stops.

She holds up her hands and shrugs. “Look, we’re closing. If you don’t want to deal with him—”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, staring at the back of Derek’s head. He wonders how many drinks it took Derek to turn talkative; Stiles had, until this moment, seriously wondered if Derek had some sort of curse placed on him that only allotted him a few dozen words a day. He says more in ten minutes than Derek says all day, something he knows due to a combination of spending long days in the library writing his thesis and strategically choosing tables that offered him a view of the reference desk.

For easy research access, of course.

“You want me to call a cab for you two?”

He should stop staring. When he’d answered the phone—the Sheriff’s kid never, ever lets an unknown number become a missed call in the early hours of the morning—and she’d asked him to come get his adorable, talkative friend who wouldn’t shut up about him, he never expected this. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” he says. He hopes Derek doesn’t live far, he’s still got a month before his first paycheck will hit his bank account and his take-out budget is going to get a serious chunk taken out of it if it turns out Derek lives out in Brooklyn or some shit.

He makes his way over until he’s on Derek’s other side and can see his face, eyes closed and resting peacefully. Stiles kicks at his foot gently; when that does nothing, and wraps his hand around Derek’s bicep—oh sweet Jesus—and shakes him a little, shoving his hands into his pockets when Derek’s eyes flutter open. “Hey, big guy,” he says, and Derek blinks up at him for a moment before smiling. Stiles draws in a breath and pastes a smile on his face because no, he is not affected by this. So what if he hasn’t ever seen a smile grace Derek Hale, permanently grumpy research librarian, before? There’s no reason why such a sight should make him want to melt into the floor right there. “Need some help getting home?”

Derek, it seems, has passed the point of happy, talkative drunk and has fallen straight into sleepy and silent. Stiles can’t decide if that’s better or worse, and when Derek finally slides off the barstool and straight into Stiles’ arms like he belongs there, nuzzling his face into Stiles’ neck with a sigh that bleeds contentment, Stiles starts calculating the odds that he actually died earlier in the day and this is his own personal heaven.

Or, more likely, a dream, because even though he’s got ten fingers and the cab waiting for them outside smells like vomit and greasy pizza, Derek shrugs helplessly when Stiles asks where he lives and his license lists somewhere upstate as his address, which means that his only real choice is to take Derek home with him, back to his shoebox of an apartment that’s barely big enough for a bed and a table, where he may have just enough room to sleep on the floor but certainly doesn’t have enough extra blankets to ensure he won’t freeze to death.

So he gives his own address to the cab driver, even though it’s only six blocks away, and stays pressed too close to Derek’s side, comfortably numb over the way Derek’s hand rests against his wrist, pinky and ring finger pressed against Stiles’ pulse point as they sit in silence. There’s so much he can’t wrap his head around that he doesn’t even try, because what good would it do to ask questions when Derek’s not said a single word to him so far? It’s startlingly familiar, just a different setting, a different hour, a different look on Derek’s face when Stiles helps him out of the cab and into his building.

By the time they’re up the stairs—a not insignificant feat—Derek is staring at him openly, mouth soft at the corners and eyes wide, fingers walking slowly up Stiles’ arm as he wedges his key into the lock and coaxes it back and forth until the deadbolt finally gives in and slides open.

“It’s not much,” Stiles says, curling his arm back around Derek’s waist and pulling him in, “and uh, I hope you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’ve got some—well, no, I don’t have any pants for you, sorry, but I have a shirt that might fit. It gets a little cold in here.”

He digs around in his dresser, pulling out of one the long sleeved shirts he wears to bed—it’ll be tight on Derek but it’s better than nothing—and tosses it at him while he pulls his own clothes off for the second time that night and looks around for the sweatpants he’d abandoned on the floor in his haste to leave. Derek’s still sitting on the edge of the bed when he’s done, looking down at his hands, and Stiles kneels in front of him without thinking, working at the laces of Derek’s shoes until he can pull them off.

“You’d be more comfortable without these,” he says, rubbing his palm against the jeans Derek’s still wearing. “You can leave them on if you want, but—it wouldn’t bother me if you took them off. If you’re comfortable with that.” Derek nods after a moment, leans into Stiles as he strips, keeps his hand on Stiles’ arm even as they crawl into the bed. He lays closer than Stiles thought he would, knees coming to rest together as they turn on their sides.

He’s almost asleep when Derek finally says his name. The light from the street below falls across Derek’s face at an angle, casting most of his face into shadow, but Stiles can see how Derek’s eyes sweep over his face, can feel the feather-light pressure of Derek’s thumb coming to rest against the corner of his mouth. “Is this real?”

There’s a slight slur to his words, a drunken lisp, and he can’t help but smile, Derek’s thumb tracing the line of his bottom lip. “You think this is a dream?” Maybe he shouldn’t touch—Derek’s still drunk, can’t really consent to anything and has never even remotely indicated that he would be interested in being in Stiles’ bed before this, but Derek’s touching him like he matters, so Stiles brings up his arm to rest around Derek’s waist and scoots a little closer.

“Yes,” Derek says quietly. “I won’t see you anymore. You’re—gone. I didn’t want you to be gone.”

“You can see me anytime you want,” Stiles says, tilting his head in, releasing a breath when Derek does the same, foreheads pressed together.

“Tomorrow?”

Stiles yawns, tugging Derek closer. “Every tomorrow,” he murmurs as he closes his eyes, and he falls asleep slowly to the sweep of Derek’s thumb across his cheek.

[johaerys-writes]

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania

Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Or: I saw the new artwork for Season 4 and I’m SO HYPED, and I want more Castlevania content now, or preferably yesterday. Also, my boy Alucard needs love. :’)

CW: Blood (obviously), Injury

Read here or on AO3!

Chapter 1: Blood on White

Blood. There is blood everywhere: on his hands, on the sheets, on the floor, on the gilded bedposts. The smell of it, thick and cloying, clinging to his nostrils. Sumi and Taka's bodies are lying beside him, unmoving, and he lies still with them. The silence that spreads after their hearts finally stop beating and their eyes glaze over is deafening.

How did this happen? How?

It is minutes, hours, days later, for all he knows, when he finally pushes himself up. He sits at the edge of the bed, for he is sure his legs will give way if he stands. Adrian glances about him, at the place that was his room, and not a place of death, only a short while before. His gaze falls on the vase of roses by his bedside table; blood roses, their crimson blossoms soft like velvet under his fingertips. His mother's favourites, said to bloom where blood has been spilled the thickest.

There's hope to be found in the grimmest of places, Adrian, she would always say, and smile. Kindness is a gift freely given.

Kindness. Hope. Notions he tried to fool himself with, sentiments that were dangled before him, like an apple before a starving man. He ran after them, stretched bodily to grasp them, only for them to turn to ashes in his hands. Only for the people he trusted —so readily, foolishly— to turn against him at the first chance they got.

Adrian could laugh. Who is he, to be kind and hopeful? Does he deserve it? Can he afford it?

Can anyone?

The vase crashes against the wall when he swipes at it with his arm, the glass shattering, the blooms scattering on the floor. He is not his mother's son.

"I am my father's son," he declares as he drags Sumi and Taka's lifeless bodies to his front door, as he sharpens the stakes, as he mounts them both on them. He stands long, makes himself watch their blood stained nightclothes flutter with the wind, the morning sun touch their ashen faces.

This is trust, he tells himself, and its price.

It is not a mistake he is about to make again.

~

“Just hold on. We’ll be there soon.”

Trevor blinks blearily when bright sunlight stabs his sore, tired eyes. His head hurts. His lungs burn. The wound at his side sends sharp jolts of pain through him every time the carriage bumps on a rock or a fallen log- which is, frankly, all the bloody time as they follow that old, unkempt dirt road. The reek of old booze and acrid night creature blood that still clings to his cloak is not helping the situation much, either.

God, he just needs a fucking drink.

“I don’t see how riding to a castle in the middle of nowhere is going to help us, Sypha,” he groans, and immediately regrets it when the dryness in his throat sends him into a fit of coughing.

Sypha clicks her tongue and frowns. “It’s not about the castle, you—”

Trevor can almost hear the mild insult that's lingering at the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. The fact that she refrains from snapping at him, even though she's worried and obviously frustrated, only reminds him of the seriousness of his injury. And he doesn't bloody need any further bloody reminders that his life is hanging by a thread.

“I’m fine,” he croaks. “Really.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Sypha mutters irritably, eyes fixed on the road before her as she urges the horses to go faster. Her full, rosy lips are set in a grim line, her eyes red, her cheeks drawn from weariness. They have been riding like mad for two days now, stopping only to rest and water the horses for a bit. Trevor is feeling quite weary himself, but seeing Sypha so haggard only makes everything a thousand times worse. He hates to see her so worried, and for a louse like him.

He shifts a little closer to her, wincing at the sharp pain from the wound. “Sypha—”

“You are not fine, Trevor!” Her gaze flicks to him, her bright blue eyes sparkling with anger, gleaming with tears that are this close to being shed. “You are not. I’ve done all I can for you, but I can do no more. That’s why we’re going there. You are not going to change my mind.”  

“And how exactly is Alucard going to help? Is he a healer as well as an arrogant bastard?”

“He knows far more about medicine than anyone within a hundred miles from here, and then some. The castle holds ingredients that most people in the rest of the world have never even seen. We are going there, and you will be nice to him, or I will box your ears. Yes?”

Trevor rolls his eyes and looks away, mumbling curses under his breath. It is hard to argue with her when his wound stabs at him at every breath. Yes, it is definitely the wound, he tells himself. He is perfectly capable of holding his own in an argument with her under any other circumstances. Perfectly capable. Absolutely.  

Trevor sighs. He just needs a drink. And a nice, long sleep. That's what he needs, what will sort him out. It always does. He leans back into the seat, letting his head rest on the smooth wood.

“There.”

Sypha’s voice rouses him from what must have been a very light and troubled sleep. Not that he can tell the difference between that and utter agony these days. He opens his eyes, squinting at the familiar curve of the road that led to the Belmont hold. To his once home.

“Just hold on a moment longer,” she says soothingly, drawing the horses back to a steady canter. “Alucard will fix you right up. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see us after so long, don’t you think?”

The stench of rotting flesh drifting with the eastern wind reaches them well before the carriage finally stops. Two corpses, cold and rigid, their eye-sockets picked clean by the vultures, staring up into a grey, unforgiving sky.

Sypha gapes at them, unblinking, like she has forgotten how to breathe.

“I don’t know, Sypha,” Trevor mutters, strained, under his breath. “That doesn’t look like a bloody warm welcome to me.”

Without a word, she hops down from the carriage, taking a few tentative steps forward. The staked corpses are frightful to look at, without a doubt. Whoever did that, Trevor thinks, must have been holding a hell of a grudge.

“What on earth,” he hears Sypha whispering under her breath. She turns to look at him, and he simply shrugs. What can he possibly do?

Sypha blinks slowly up at the stakes once more, her brows gathered in a furrow, before coming back to the carriage. Making himself stand up and lower himself to the ground takes up every last bit of strength that has been left to him, despite him dropping most of his weight on poor Sypha. She groans underneath him, wrapping her arm around his waist to keep him steady.

“God, you stink,” she protests, taking a shaky step forward. Trevor rolls his eyes, but even that takes effort.

“You don’t exactly smell like roses yourself,” he grunts, following as best he could without tripping on the hem of his bedraggled cloak.

Sypha snorts, leaning her head against his shoulder for a breath. “Ass.”

He tries for a clever quip to make her laugh, but her smile falters when he starts coughing again, so hard that he is sure the wound has opened again. He shivers when he feels warm blood seeping through the bandage. "I sure hope Alucard is home," he pants weakly, "and hasn't gone into a little nightly escapade."

Sypha holds him more tightly, even though her arms and legs are shaking now. “Just a little further. Just until we get to the steps-”

Trevor barely hears what she says before his vision darkens. The stone steps rise up to meet him at lightning speed, knocking the air out of his lungs. White hot pain lances through his entire body, blocking out everything else.

Sypha frantically banging on the tall, gilded door of the castle is what pulls him out if the darkness.

“Alucard!” she cries, again and again, hitting the door with her fists. Her voice is raw and hoarse— she must have been at it for a while while he was unconscious. “Alucard! Open up! Ugh, where is he?” She turns to him, her round blue eyes wide and disturbingly liquid in the morning light. “Just— just hold on, Trevor,” she pleads before raising her fist to knock on the door once more.  

The heavy doors creak ominously as they slowly peel apart. Sypha’s hand hovers in the air for a breath before she lets it fall, watching while sunlight flooded the thick darkness beyond the door.

The figure that walks out is pale, skin almost translucent in the bright light. Hair like spun gold falling freely about his shoulders. Face smooth and cold, as if carved in marble. Gaunt. More gaunt than Trevor remembers. His gaze hard and aloof when it sweeps over them both. Trevor sees those familiar golden eyes widening in shock when they fall on him, sprawled as he is on the ground.

“Sypha,” Alucard says. “What happened?”

The voice is low and throaty, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. Or like he just woke up. Wouldn’t surprise him if Alucard decided to take a bloody nap the whole time he and Sypha were out, killing monsters. That’s what vampires do after all, isn't it? Yet, those corpses were fresh. No more than a couple days, a week at the most. That week has been cold, so it would have stopped the flesh from rotting too soon. If it is Alucard that did it, that is. There is still the possibility that he didn't, and that he isn't the mindless beast that Trevor has been brought up to believe of his kind.

He blinks up at him, watching him through the cloud that threatens to descend on him again. Alucard’s gaze does not fall on the bodies when he drags it away from Trevor and fixes it on Sypha. Not once. Not even by accident.

The absolute, bloody bastard.

Sypha straightens, regarding him curiously. It evidently hasn’t been lost on her either that Alucard is not in the least surprised by the bodies at his front door. “Trevor has been hurt,” she says, her voice trembling only a little. “Will you help us?”

Instead of a response, Alucard brushes past her, coming to loom over him. The sunlight casts a halo around his golden hair, shadows on his sharp features. “Can you walk?”

Trevor scoffs, then coughs. He brings his hand before his mouth, and when he withdraws it, there is blood. “Do I look like I can walk?”

Alucard raises a brow at that. Whether it is for his response or for the blood on his hand, Trevor can't say. He kneels before him, snaking one arm behind his shoulders, the other under his knees. “I’m going to lift you now.”

“Whoa, wait-” Trevor doesn't even manage to protest before he is picked up off the ground and lifted into Alucard’s arms, like a blushing bride on the way to her marriage bed. He attempts a weak struggle, but Alucard’s voice is firm.

“Stop moving. You’ll hurt yourself even more. Not that you need much help with that, but still.”

Trevor rolls his eyes, frowning even as he winces in pain. “Ever the pompous prick,  Alucard. How nice to see you again.”

The dhampir’s gaze is locked straight ahead as he walks, not even deigning to answer. That is… odd. To say the least. Alucard always rises to his barbs, and Trevor to his, however petulant or childish. There is a somberness to him, a sort of stillness; it is like looking at the smooth surface of a frozen lake. It unnerves Trevor more than he can say.

But then again, it could just be that Trevor's not thinking straight. The pain that stabs him every time he so much as bloody blinks isn't exactly conducive to thought.

Sypha shuffles after them, the hem of her robes whispering around her ankles as she tries to catch up with Alucard’s long strides. He walks smoothly, evenly, with the grace of a dancer, or that of a swan gliding along calm waters, and the steady rocking makes it even harder to keep his eyes open. Trevor loses track of how many flights of stairs they ascend, or how many endless, identical-looking corridors they cross, but at length Alucard stops before a door and pushes it open.

The room he takes him in is wide and spacious, with a large hearth, a thick red carpet that muffles the sound of Alucard's boots, and one of the biggest beds Trevor has ever laid eyes upon- with a mountain of pillows and a red velvet canopy, with carved mahogany bedposts and gilded bedside tables and whatnot- he is far too dazed to notice more, but even he can tell the thing is luxurious.

Alucard’s hair brushes his face when he gently -surprisingly gently- sets him atop the bed. His pale golden strands smell of fresh chopped wood and wild berries, Trevor remarks absently.

“How did he get hurt?” he asks, turning to Sypha.

“Oy,” Trevor grumbles weakly. The mattress is so soft and inviting he feels like he is sinking in it, but he makes an effort to keep his eyes open. “I’m still conscious, thank you very much. You don’t have to talk like I'm not here.”

“As it is, Belmont, I do not believe you’re in any position to give an accurate account of your injuries,” Alucard replied coldly. “It is best, perhaps for everyone, if you try not to talk much.” His golden gaze slides off him swiftly to return to Sypha. Arrogant sod.

“We were in Lindenfeld, a few days ago.” Sypha comes to sit beside him on the bed. “There was… an attack. Night creatures. Powerful ones. There was a portal, and they kept streaming… We managed to make it out of there alive, but the damage was already done. All the night creatures within twenty miles from here have gathered in the woods beyond the town, and are terrorising the villages along the country road. We tried to stop them, kill as many as we could, but...” Her lips tightens in a line, her gaze falling on Trevor.

“A portal?” Alucard asks, as if he hasn't heard a word of what Sypha has said.

Her eyes meet his. “An Infinite Corridor.”

Fair eyebrows lift ever so slightly along a pale, smooth forehead. “Those creatures you speak of. What kind of night creature was it that attacked him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know its name, or its kind. I’ve never seen the like. It possessed a level of intelligence, for one. And it was made up of dozens of souls. Like the one that was trapped under the priory in Lindenfeld, but... different. Vicious. Frantic.”

“The bastard wouldn’t stay dead,” Trevor croaks, and coughs again.

“It had those glowy eyes and those sharp claws—” She rubs her temples, sighing. “It caught Trevor with one of those claws. I’ve done all I can to heal him, but the wound refuses to close. The flesh knits back together, albeit weakly, but then the smallest movements rip it open again. Healing is not my expertise, but even so, I should have been able to treat it. I don’t know what it is—”

The desperation in her voice makes Trevor’s heart tighten. He hates that she's so tired, so worried; he hates that it is he that has brought her to this state. He never makes things easy for her, damn him. Not that she makes things easy for him, but even so, it is he that should be looking out for her, not the other way round. If only he'd been more careful, if only he'd seen the attack before it came—

He reaches out to place his hand on her forearm. “Sypha,” he says softly.

She pats his hand and gives him a tight smile. “We’ll find out what it is. Yes? Alucard and I. We’ll heal you. Right, Alucard?” She turns her gaze to their friend. Their once friend. God knows what he is now. Trevor does not dare to trust him, but he's their last hope.

Alucard’s eyes linger on them for a long moment, and Trevor thinks he sees something flashing in them; something sad and desperate, but it's gone in an instant. The dhampir's gaze is icy once more when he says, “I have to see the wound for myself. I'll need you to take off your clothes.”

“Now, hold on—”

“I’ll help,” Sypha says promptly, reaching out to undo the clasp of his cloak. “You needed a change of clothes anyway.” Her smile is still on her lips, but it never reaches her eyes, so it is hardly a comfort. His cloak comes off, then his thick leather jerkin. He tenses when she starts pulling at the laces on his undershirt, with Alucard watching over her shoulder.

“That'll do,” he hears Alucard say. “I can inspect the wound without completely undressing him.”

Well, that, at least, is somewhat fortunate.

Sypha edges back as Alucard bent over him, long fingers dragging his shirt up from the waistband of his breeches. Even though the wound is wrapped with fresh bandages he can still feel the fabric brushing over it, and he bites his lip down hard to stop himself from wincing. Alucard produces a small pocket knife out of thin air and starts cutting away the blood soaked cloth. When he peels it back, a strong acrid smell of sepsis fills his nostrils. Trevor almost gags, almost —almost— faints.

The frown that creases Alucard’s brow does not help one bit.

“How long ago did he get this?” he asks Sypha.

“Three days ago,” Trevor responds, more gruffly than he intends as pain lanced through him once again. Even the air touching the wound makes him squirm.

Alucard’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t have reached this level of infection in just three days. I’m surprised you’re still on your feet.”

“Us Belmonts are hard kill,” he says, and regrets it as soon as does. Sympathy warms Alucard’s gaze for the briefest of moment, so brief Trevor thinks he imagines it, before it is swiftly hidden behind his impervious mask once more. It is enough to make a spark of irritation flicker in his chest, however weak. Why s Alucard pitying him, anyway? His lot is worse than his own.

That shouldn’t have made Trevor’s heart clench as it does. He looks away.

There is nothing that Trevor can make out of Alucard's expression when he straightens. Or perhaps it is that the pain and the exhaustion finally taking hold. “I’ll bring something for the pain, and to stem the bleeding. As to how to treat the infection, that will require some research.”

“How much?” Sypha asks, and this time she doesn't even bother to hide her worry. “It’s spreading quickly. I don’t think we-” She stops herself, her fists bunching up the fabric of her skirt.

“Just say it, Sypha." Trevor lets out a huff and sinks back into the pillows. "I’m not a child.”

She shoots him a glare. “What I meant to say, is that I don’t think we can afford to let more time pass.”

“What we can afford even less is a mistake," Alucard says. He clasps his hands behind his back as he draws himself up to his full height. The bastard is tall, Trevor will give him that. "I’m not much of a healer, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Sypha says softly, breathing a sigh of relief. “We appreciate it. Really.”

Alucard’s gaze flicks between the two for a breath —golden, luminous, and so bloody cold and aloof it sends a shiver up Trevor's spine— before he turns to leave. The room somehow feels warmer after he's gone.

As soon as he was gone, Sypha lets out a long sigh, dragging her palm down her face. Her hand stops just before her eyes, and she peers at him through her fingers.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Trevor groans. “If I had any clue what was going on, I wouldn’t be lying here on this bed, waiting for Alucard, of all people, to take pity on me and save my life.”

“No one’s taking pity on you, you silly ox,” she mutters, shifting closer beside him on the bed again. She stares at him, her large, clear sky eyes reflecting the sunlight pouring through the window like glass. “Something very wrong has happened here, Trevor. I can feel it.”

“What gave it away? The staked corpses by the front door? Or that the half-vampire lordling seems to have a stick farther up his arse than usual?”

She blinks. “Both?”

Trevor sighs. “Yes. Both. More, probably. Give it some time. We’ve only been here a few minutes.”

She taps her chin thoughtfully, glancing towards the door. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” she says, her brows gathering in that determined frown of hers he’s come to know quite well. “We have to. Something’s fishy. Very fishy.”

“Sure, sure, yeah. For now, let's just hope whatever he brings for the pain is strong enough to knock me out for a day or two.” He sinks back into the bed, his eyes closing on their own, but not before his gaze falls on a gilded cabinet by the window. “Think there’s any liquor in there?”

Sypha snorts, rolling her eyes. “Just go to sleep, Belmont.”

Her cool fingertips against his brow is the last thing Trevor feels before the world grows dark.

[openheart12]

I Think He Knows

Chapter 5: King Of My Heart

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write, we hope you enjoy it!

Summary: A move to Providence proves to bring new people together but will their friendship be able to survive through the unexpected problems they are faced with? When her crush turns into something more, what does that mean for the relationships closest to her. When he has to leave for college, will he finally relent or will he lose her forever? What consequences will she be faced with for falling for her brother’s best friend? Does he know?

Warnings: language, violence, and cheating 

Disclaimer: PB owns characters

Catch up here

Her alarm went off at 4 AM sharp, beckoning her to wake up. When she turned it off, she rubbed her eyes, cursing whoever’s smart idea it was to make a flight to Miami at 7 AM the day of the actual conference. She slowly rose up to a sitting position letting the realization that today was the day she was going to be in Miami with Ethan for the weekend hit her. 

She hopped in the shower, letting her tiredness wash away, and when she exited she heard a light knock on her bedroom door. Grabbing her robe and wrapping it tightly around her as she walked to the door, she opened it to see Ethan standing there with a bag near his feet.

He whipped his head up when she opened the door, seeing her in her white robe, and water dripping from her hair. He took a second to admire her as she self consciously wrapped her arms around herself before clearing his throat. “I know it’s only five but we should leave soon so we can get through security.”

She gave him a nod and moved to close the door. “I’ll be out in twenty minutes,” she said in a small whisper, not wanting to show her nerves through her voice.

“Alright, well I can load your bag into the car while you get ready,” he offered.

She let a small smile play across her face, “I still have a few things I need to pack, so I’ll take it out once I’m done.”

“Oh, okay.” He watched her start to close the door so he took it as a sign to leave.

Neither one of them knew why things had been so awkward these past few weeks. Well, that’s a lie. They both knew the tension between them as well as these mixed feelings and signals were a big factor, but why couldn’t they just shove it down and act normal?

That’s something Casey has been doing since she’d met Ethan. She’s used to keeping her feelings for him bottled up, she shouldn’t be feeling the awkward tension whenever she’s with him. Maybe it was because he was so open with her when she first came to Boston, or the way he comforted her, or maybe it was their almost kiss. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew there was something deeper with Ethan going on even though every bone in her body said it wasn’t a good idea with his current relationship going on.

She shook her arms and head, wanting to stop thinking about it all together as she threw on some sweats and packed the rest of her bag.

~~~~~~~~

The car ride to the airport was one of the quietest drives her and Ethan had ever experienced together. Both of them had been thankful that the drive wasn’t too long because if either of them had been in there longer, the tension that was so thick you would need a knife to cut through it would’ve suffocated them.

When they had boarded the plane, Casey was surprised when Ethan stopped at first class seats. She turned to him and raised a brow as he beckoned her to sit.

When she took her seat, he took the one across from her, staring out of the window instead of looking at her. There it was again, the tense silence that neither one of them had wanted in the first place. Casey bit her lip, thinking of ways to start the conversation before clearing her throat to get his attention.

When he turned his head to her, she let out a sigh. “Um, so who’s exactly paying for these seats? Because if I’m correct, then I know Edenbrook couldn’t have afforded these.”

“Well you’re right with that. Big Pharma is the reason we’re sitting here.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing damn well there were hidden intentions behind the seats. “And what do they want in return?”

Ethan chuckled as they both began to feel that weight of tension between them be lifted. “Should’ve known you’d be able to see right through them.” He watched a light blush tint her cheeks. “They expect us to promote their drugs to patients in return for these ‘luxurious’ seats.”

“You know, it’s times like these that I really love our capitalist society.”

He raised a brow, but before she could explain herself a flight attendant walked up to them.

“Hello, can I get you two anything?”

Casey pursed her lips before lifting her eyebrows and turning to the attendant. “I’ll have the most expensive booze you got!”

“Rookie, it’s not even eight a.m yet.”

She turned her head over to Ethan and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh and gave a nod before turning to the flight attendant himself. “I’ll just have a scotch, neat.” When the woman left to get their drinks, he looked back over to Casey giving him a smug look. “What’s that look for?” he asked, leaning back into his seat.

“Oh I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I just think you’re predictable and I totally knew you were going to go for a scotch. I also knew it was going to be neat.”

“Well predictability happens to stem from knowing a lot about a person. You know scotch is my go-to, and you also know that-”

“The ice changes the flavor,” she said, cutting him off with a dainty smirk on her lips.

Ethan took a second to observe her. He knew she knew a lot about him because they grew up near each other, but it just didn’t really hit him how much she really knew him until now. He was soon brought out of his daze when the flight attendant came back with their drinks.

Once she left again, Casey lifted her glass to his. “To Miami, and whatever it may bring.”

“Hopefully no trouble,” he said, clinking their glasses.

“With us there? You bet your ass there’ll be trouble.”

He rolled his eyes as she let out a giggle. The conversation between them had been flowing easier than either had originally anticipated, making them feel just an ounce of what normalcy may feel like.

~~~~~~~~

They arrived in Miami by ten o’clock, both breathing in the crisp ocean air with a happy sigh. The sound of waves crashing in the distance sounded like music to her ears. “This is what heaven feels like.” She looked over at Ethan just as the sea breeze swept through his hair as he closed his eyes, looking peaceful.

“A moment of tranquility before our descent in hell,” he joked.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” She questioned which elicited a snort from him.

“Just you wait,” he teased as he patted her head.

“Ethan,” she groaned as she shoved him playfully. They made their way inside and they had just passed through the glass doors when a feminine voice called his name.

“Ramsey! Ethan Ramsey! I was so excited when Naveen told us you would be coming in his place this year! It’s lovely to meet you! Come, Horton and Mendoza want to say hi!” He suppressed the urge to groan as he shot her a pleading look and she snickered.

“Rookie, get us checked in. Two rooms under Ramsey,” he made sure to enunciate ‘Rookie,’ and she pinched his arm in return before going up to the receptionists’ desk.

“Welcome to the Celestial Miami! Checking in?” The concierge greeted her with a bright smile. 

“Yup! Reservation’s under Ramsey. Two rooms.” She saw the look that crossed his face as he checked the computer and inwardly sighed. Please, please don’t let what I think is about to happen, happen, she thought to herself. 

“Ramsey… Er, my apologies. There was an error with your reservation, and we only booked one room.” Dammit, she cursed under her breath, low enough that he wouldn’t hear her.

“One’s fine,” she plastered on a fake smile.

“Wonderful. Here are your keycards, you have a beautiful ocean-side suite. Very romantic.” He gave her a knowing look and she had suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, instead giving him a small smile. She pocketed the hotel keycards and stepped outside to wait for Ethan when she saw Zaid with his arm around… Ines. 

“Casey!” Ines exclaimed as she gave her a hug, while Zaid just gave her a curt nod. 

“Are you guys here for the conference too? And you’re together? As in dating each other?” She asked.

“Yes, and it’s the one break I get from the hospital all year. Please, can we just pretend we don’t know each other?” He begged her, causing the two women to share a laugh.

“And yes, we are dating. This month will be seven months with my Zaidy Bear!” She smiled as she nuzzled in his side and even Zaid smiled as his arm wrapped around her waist. She couldn’t help but smile at how happy they seemed to be with each other. She wanted that with him. Ethan walked out a moment later and greeted the two residents with a questioning look.

“What are you two doing here?” He asked as he was under the impression that him and Casey were the only two coming from Edenbrook.

“Naveen had asked us a couple weeks before, which I was surprised when he told us you were coming along yesterday too,” Ines spoke casually. 

“Why would he inv-” suddenly realization dawned on him. He shook his head knowing exactly why Naveen had invited the two of them personally. He called him to his office one day and asked about his relationship with Casey, and now it made sense because he had told him the truth. From their growing up together to their first kiss to what had almost happened between them in the supply closet and who had caught them. Naveen was the first person he had ever entrusted to tell his most kept secret to and now it was biting him in the ass. 

Casey had noticed the realization in his eyes and had a feeling as to why Naveen had invited them to Miami. She tried to meet his gaze, but he kept his gaze trained on anything except for her. A few minutes later they said their goodbyes to Ines and Zaid and made their way to what he thought was going to be separate rooms. They got to the front of the door and he gave her a questioning look when she gestured for him to go in and she followed suit. 

“Is this my room? Or yours?” He turned around to face her and felt his heart start to race when he noticed her expression because he could not share a room with her. He could barely live in the same apartment as her let alone two days in the same room. 

“Well, you see, there was a problem with our reservation and they only booked us for one room, and it’s a couples’ suite.” She watched as he rubbed his brow and sighed.

“Oh dear Lord,” he muttered under his breath just loud enough for her to hear. 

They spent the next few minutes putting their luggage away before heading to the convention center that was flooded with people awashed with colorful booths and banners. She gawked in amazement as the various doctors and researchers revealed their cutting-edge research. Ethan looked over at her with a small smile as he noticed her excitement. 

“I can’t believe I get to see all of this firsthand!” She exclaimed and before he could answer her, he walked over to them.

“Ethan Ramsey, do my eyes deceive me?” The man clapped him on his back. 

“Declan,” he spoke through gritted teeth, he hadn’t seen him since his first day as an intern before he transferred to Seattle Grace Hospital. He felt anger coursing through his veins when he saw he had turned his attention towards Casey and was looking at her suggestively.

“Is this the infamous Harper, because she is absolutely stunning,” he shot her a wink which in return made her roll her eyes.

“No.” 

“So she’s your side piece?” He asked smuggly. “Good for you! I didn’t know you had it in you, buddy.” He patted his back and it took everything in Ethan for him not to punch him right then and there.

He maneuvered Casey away from him but Declan grasped her arm and pulled her back to him roughly. “Don’t touch her, you son of a bitch,” his fist connected with his jaw and Declan stumbled backwards.

“What the hell was that for?” His hand went to his jaw, wincing from the pain. 

“If you touch her again, you will live to regret it,” he seethed before leading her out and back to their room. 

They spent the next couple of hours unpacking and sleeping while Ethan kept ice on his injured hand. The silence was deafening at this point, both unsure of what to say. 

“Shit,” he muttered when he looked at the clock and saw that they only had forty five minutes until they had to leave. “We have to leave soon, Case,” he called before going to take a quick shower.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me there was a reception,” she rummaged through her travel bag for anything that would be acceptable to wear. Ethan had left the door open a crack so they would be able to talk. 

“It was the furthest possible thing from my mind at the time.”

“But it’s a casino theme! I have to look nice!” She glanced over at the bathroom mirror, seeing him step out of the shower with a towel around his hips and before she could look away, he glanced up, catching her staring. She felt her cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson and turned her attention back to finding something to wear.

“Just throw on whatever you brought with you,” he told her as he donned his suit. She then remembered the navy blue dress she had brought with her and ran her fingers over the fabric, a soft smile playing on her lips. She slipped the dress on, trying to zip the back up until she felt his fingers ghost her skin causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin.

“May I?” His breath was on her neck and all she could do was nod, not trusting her voice to speak. He zipped her up, his fingers lingering on her back a moment too long, but she didn’t mind. She moved the cape back so it flowed behind her, stealing one more glance in the mirror before making her way to the door, but he gently grasped her arm, holding her back.

“You look beautiful.” She couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her face.

“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. He held his arm out to her with a lopsided grin, she shook her head with a laugh before linking her arm through his as they made their way down to the reception. 

It was a relatively cool night in Miami with the breeze blowing softly. They walked out to the pool area where it was illuminated by lights, on one side was the open bar and the other had a buffet table. There was a game of poker going on at one of the many tables set up around the deck, with Declan sitting in the middle. He met her eyes and smirked, a noticeable bruise on his jaw.

“If I’m going to make it through tonight, I’m going to need a drink. Do you want anything?”

“Whatever you get is fine with me.” She took a seat at one of the empty tables to wait for Ethan. Her phone dinged with a text from Nate. 

How are things going? Have you jumped each other’s bones yet? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. 

She was so engrossed in her response that she didn’t notice that she was no longer alone. She looked up to see no one other than Declan peering down at her phone. “What the hell?” She quickly turned off her phone. 

“Is he talking about Ethan? Don’t tell me that’s Nathan Grey. That would make you Casey Grey, the woman I have heard so much about from those two.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders at the same time as Ethan was walking back to her, two drinks in hand.

“What are you doing?” Ethan spat.

“Having a conversation with my good friend, Casey,” he tightened his grip around her shoulders, but she pushed him away and stood up. She grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled him after her but they didn’t get far before Declan walked up behind them and pushed Ethan’s shoulder to the point where he was now facing him. “You know I find it funny how possessive you are over her when your girlfriend is back in Boston.”

“Okay listen here you son of a bitch, I hit you earlier and I’ll gladly do it again,” Ethan said, advancing towards Declan. 

“Ha! I’d like to see you try. It seems like you’d do anything for that beauty over there.”

Ethan went to raise his fist to give Declan a blow, but before he was able to swing, Declan’s knuckle had connected against Ethan’s lower jaw. He stumbled backwards before regaining his balance, Declan went to hit him again, but Ethan blocked it, striking his cheek in retaliation. 

It took three other doctors to pull them apart and even then, Ethan tried to lunge at him again, but Casey stepped in front of him, putting her hands on his chest. When he met her eyes, reality came crashing back down and he stilled his movements and Casey had led him back to their room.

“You wanna tell me what happened between the two of you? You or Nate have never mentioned his name before.” She got him a bag of ice and set it down beside him.

“He’s a prick,” she waited for him to continue but his gaze was glued to the floor. She wracked her brain for any reason she could think of that Ethan would be keeping something from her. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she saw him get up and head out to the balcony.

While out on the balcony, the breeze was softly rustling through their hair. They had been up there for twenty minutes and Ethan had been insisting he could take care of himself. She honestly didn’t want to argue with him so she sat back and watched as he winced and put the ice she had prepared for him not even remotely close to where Declan had actually struck. 

Watching him had been the most frustrating thing so she stood up and got closer to him, rolling her eyes in the process and she took the makeshift ice pack from his hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow as she placed the pack lower on his jaw.

“You suck at being your own doctor so I’m taking over.” 

She pulled one of the chairs closer to him and sat down. There was a certain quietness between them that had lingered, but it wasn’t that weird tense silence. This was a moment between two lifelong friends, a moment of revelation, no, a moment of realization. 

With Ethan looking into her eyes she could feel her pulse start beating rapidly. The intense feeling had made her grip on the ice pack go weak and she let it drop to the ground. She was about to move her hand to get it, but right before she did Ethan put a light hold onto her wrist, keeping her hand near his face.

The passion and wanting in both of their eyes was enough for them to become weak in the knees, and as if Ethan was rushing up from a lake for oxygen, he surged forward, capturing her lips with his. 

The initial shock of their lips together hadn’t lasted long, and she clung her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies closer as he stood them up. Ethan had returned the same grip around her waist, both holding onto each other like it was their first and last kiss. 

The kiss had quickly escalated as Ethan had her against the glass sliding door, kissing down her neck as she ran her fingers through his hair. When he moved his lips back onto hers, she slid her hands down his chest, starting to play with the buttons of his tux. He felt the icy touch of her hand slip beneath his undershirt and sucked in a breath as he heard four soft words escape her mouth.

“I’ve been wanting this.”

“Me too,” she heard his husky voice whisper.

She had continued to explore his chest before bringing her hand up to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss even further. She wanted more, no, she needed more. Without thinking, she hooked one of her legs around his hips, being close enough to feel just how much he wanted her.

The feeling of Casey almost wrapped around him made him suddenly aware of what they were actually doing, and who they actually were. 

Without any warning he broke the kiss, backing away so that they were at arm’s length. Casey had abruptly opened him a look mixed with confusion and hurt. She watched him let out a breath, rubbing his hand down his face before giving a guilty expression.

“Case, We shouldn’t have… we… I’m with Harper.”

She quickly schooled her features into a look of understanding. “Yeah…”

“We were just...tipsy from the reception and high on adrenaline and I was out of line.”

“You’re right. It was the alcohol and adrenaline,” she lied, trying to keep her feelings at bay. 

He shot another guilty look in her direction but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Case, are we gonna be fine, or should we talk about this?”

She looked up at him and gave a half hearted smile. “We’re fine E, or we can talk about it later if you want but I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll go to bed.”

He scratched the back of his neck and gave a nod. “Okay, well I’ll take the couch. Good night.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, walking into the suite and heading straight towards the bathroom, wanting to take a shower and wash away the day.

~~~~~~~~

The weekend had passed by quickly, their last day in Miami was full of attending lectures until they had a two hour break for everyone to relax and have time to eat. Ethan and Casey had decided to have their lunch on the beach. They had brought a picnic blanket with them and laid it across the sand as she took out the sandwiches they had packed while he got their drinks.

“I better not get a bad tan-line.” He chuckled as he took out a bottle of sunscreen and sprayed it on his arms and his face. He went to hand her the bottle but she shook her head.

 “I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself,” he put the bottle back in the big and started to eat his food, he noticed that her gaze was trained on the water and she hadn’t touched her food. “Are you okay?” He asked softly. They still hadn’t talked about what happened the night before, about the line they had almost crossed. 

“Yeah,” she gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, but he didn’t want to push it. They spent the next two hours almost in complete silence. When they had to leave, they put everything up. She started to walk back to the hotel when he gently grabbed her arm.

“Are… are we going to be okay?” He questioned.

“Yeah,” she was averting her gaze from him, scared that if she looked into his eyes, that she  would lose control and she was barely holding it together. 

“Can you look at me and say that?”

“We… we have to go.” She broke free from his grasp and he sighed, running his hand through his hair before following her. 

The rest of the day consisted of attending the rest of the lectures and packing and finally heading to the airport to board their flight. Thick tension hanging over the pair the whole time. After going through security and taking their seats on the plane, the quietness enveloped them again. They settled in for the long flight, she put in her AirPods before he even had a chance to talk to her. 

They arrived at Boston Logan International Airport around eleven o’clock at night, grabbing their luggage before hailing a cab to take them home. Again, the silence engulfed them, both not knowing what to say. When they got home, they said their goodnight’s and headed to their separate rooms. 

Early the next morning, they were getting ready to head to the hospital when Nate confronted both of them. He had noticed a shift in their relationship and wanted to know what had happened in Miami.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you two?” 

“Nothing,” she replied dryly, breezing past him out the door. He gave Ethan a look and he just shook his head before following her out the door. For the first time in all the years they had known each other, there was an awkward silence on the way to the hospital. 

“Dr. Banerji has an announcement today,” Nate tried to lessen the growing tension, but he was ignored by both of them. He looked over to Ethan who was driving and noticed the bags under his eyes. He stole a quick glance at Casey in the rearview mirror and noticed the troubled look in his sister’s eyes. His mind churning at what could have possibly happened to change their dynamic so much. 

When they arrived at Edenbrook, Casey quickly got out of the car not bothering to wait for the other two. They walked in to see Naveen standing at the top of the stairs with almost all the doctors and nurses waiting for his announcement, including Casey. Ethan didn’t see Harper walk up to him as his gaze was fixed on Casey. She kissed him and he inwardly grimaced, when the kiss broke, he looked at Casey who was staring at the two of them with an unreadable expression on her face before she turned her attention back to Naveen.

“First of all, I would like to welcome Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Grey back!” Naveen had a smile that slightly faltered when he saw the looks on both of their faces. “There is going to be a gala in two weeks to help raise money and I expect everyone to attend. That’s all, thank you.” The group began to dissipate as they went back to work. All wondering what was to come in the following weeks.

Casey was getting ready to walk down to one of her patient’s rooms when Bryce quickly jogged up to her and caught her elbow. When she turned around, she saw that cocky, yet endearing grin.

“So you obviously know about the gala…” 

“Yeah, and what about it?” She crossed her arms, giving him that same grin back.

“Well I was actually wondering if you would be my date.”

Casey’s grin had turned into a soft smile, and when she went to open her mouth, her eyes briefly brushed past Bryce and connected with Ethan’s to see that he was listening to Harper. It was almost as if the whole weekend had flashed before her eyes. The weekend that gave her that taste of him, and left her wanting more. She could feel the intense feeling rushing back just from thinking about it, but the one thing that made her choices regarding Bryce so much easier, was the simple, yet heartbreaking sentence of “Case, We shouldn’t have… we… I’m with Harper.” 

Ethan was with Harper. It was that simple. She needed to accept that, and the first step was going out and trying with someone new, someone different. 

Her eyes had settled back onto Bryce and she brightened her smile. “I would love to go with you Bryce.” She could see the excitement light up in his eyes.

“Great! I’ll text you what time I’ll pick you up?”

She gave him a nod before he squeezed her elbow and went off to work. Casey was about to turn back towards the direction of her patient’s room, but she caught Ethan’s eye once again as he gave her an unreadable expression. 

Ethan Tags: @ethandaddyramsey @junggoku @edith-eggs1 @camiyumi5 @lilypills @sekizincimektup @missmiimiie @binny1985 @drethanramslay  @whatchique @cxld-play @the-ingenious-f00l @oofchoices @lovebubblechoices @loveellamae @trappedinfandoms @choices-love-affair @noboundariesplease @newcolonies @big-yikers @flyawayboo @misterbitterapplesauce @x-kyne-x @itsgoingnuts @junehiratas @drakewalker04 @caseyvalentineramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @jamespotterthefirst @messrprongs @pikapower18 @samihatuli @jooous @sanchita012 @nooruleman  @lifeof-liv @schnitzelbutterfingers @desmaranj @rookiefromedenbrook @mrsdrakewalkerblog @tefigranger @tyrilstouch @eileendannie @rookie-ramsey @ramseyandrys @agent-breakdance @mvalentine @theeccentricbibliophile @ao719 @openheartchoices @lucy-268 @humanpokemon @custaroonie @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @anotherbeingsworld @zeniamiii @squishywizardhq @nerdydinosaursweets @pixelberryownsme @courtesanofedenbrook @aylamwrites @mals-chesthair @checkurwindow @unluckygs @dulceghernandez @lion-ess24 @choicesficwriterscreations @mkamra2355

ITHK Tags: @burnsoslow @smilex1104 @rookiemarsswiftie @princessfuzzy12 @rookieoh @virtualrain202 @kiara-36 @macy-ray85

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.

Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."

Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."

He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."

Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”

She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”

“I wanna pee!”

She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”

It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.

Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.

He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...

“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.

They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.

“What do you want?” Killian says.

“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”

“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. “Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”

Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.

“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”

“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”

Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.

“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.

Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”

Gold shoots.

Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.

And then she's falling.

“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.

Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.

“No, no. Milah...”

She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.

It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.

Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.

“No,” he says.

He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”

What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.

“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.

Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.

It all happens in half a second.

Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.

He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.

The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.

His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.

There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...

Then white. So much white.

Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.

Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.

In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.

At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.

Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.

If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.

And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.

The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.

He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.

It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.

He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.

One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.

Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.

It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.

He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.

Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.

Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.

Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.

He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.

It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.

Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?

He deletes the email.

For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.

He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.

Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.

Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.

Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.

“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”

If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.

“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”

His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.

“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”

“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”

“No. I need to see him behind bars.”

“You need to grieve.”

Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”

“Exactly.”

He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.

And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.

There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.

At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.

If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.

He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.

The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.

He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.

“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”

“Your name is Gardener, innit?”

She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”

Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.

He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.

One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.

It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.

If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.

Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.

Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.

Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.

Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.

Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.

Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.

He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.

With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.

It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.

He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.

He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.

There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.

He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.

It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.

For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.

There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.

“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.

“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.

“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.

“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.

“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”

Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”

He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.

She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.

No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!

Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.

"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.

He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."

The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"

The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.

"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.

He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."

He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."

Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"

She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"

His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.

Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.

Glowing and looking at him.

When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.

"It seems that way, aye," he replies.

Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.

~

(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.

I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)

[amazingdriverfics]

Making up

Hey, I missed some Sackler and thought of this, surprise surprise, instead of sleeping. It’s currently 2 am where I live and here I am. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 3.6k 

Warnings: lil bit of angst, language, smut, bisexual reader

Pairing: Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: the last time you had seen him made you wish you would never do it again

Sitting in the chair next to the play director, you waited patiently as the actors one by one performed for their audition, it was boring, frustrating and you were almost throwing a chair at the stage. God, when did actors become so fucking terrible at their jobs? A deep voice took you from your thoughts back to what was happening right in front of you. 

“Uh, hello. I’m Adam Sackler and I’m here to try for the role of George”. No way, this was not happening, there was absolutely no way that after all these years you were going to have to deal with him again, not after how things ended. As soon as you gathered courage to look at the stage your fear was confirmed, your ex-best friend was standing right there, and just by seeing the start of his performance you knew he would be the one to star it next to you. Adam always was an excellent actor, he could make you feel every single emotion he wanted, his every movement, facial expression and voice tone in character. Even in college, Sackler was simply explendid in what he did and that was one of the things you used to admire more in him.

6 years ago 

In your room, already dressed, you hummed a pop melody you had been obsessed with while you finished your makeup. You intended to look the best you possibly could, that night was the night you had decided to finally talk to the girl you had been crushing hard for a couple of months. You met Angie in your part time job in the book shop in campus, she was a History major student who worked with you at mondays and thursdays, she always engaged in small talks with you and you did your absolute best not to gag while talking to the purple haired girl. One of the fraternities was throwing a party and you had invited her to come with you and your best friend slash roommate Adam Sackler. 

You had moved into his place as soon as you went to college, the rent was something you could definitely afford, you would live 5 minutes away from the campus and with another acting major. At first, you found Adam very strange, the 6’3” foot man would get out of his room shirtless to have a drink of milk in the middle of the night and usually acted like you were not there while doing it, he would also engage in very strange topics, he hated when you brought any of your friends home and had very loud sex. You started to like Sackler when he helped you studying for a test, that was the first time the two of you had a decent talk. Ever since, you were inseparable, every night you would sit on the couch and watch some sitcom while judging the script and acting skills of the actors, you always went to bed with your tummy hurting from how much you had laughed. At the time, you had even developed a crush in the man, but he never gave you any signs that he felt the same so you dropped it, happy to call him your best friend. 

“Are you ready? Your crush is here” Adam said bringing his head into your room and taking your mind off your thoughts about the man himself. “Oh my God, I’ll be there in a minute” you said applying one last coat of mascara. “Wait, Adam” you screamed making his head appear again. “What is it, kid?” his eyes met yours. “Do I look good?” you asked spinning around and showing all of you. “As usual, you are stunning. Now, let’s get going” the man stated leaving you again. 

Slowly, you made your way to the living room watching as your best friend talked to Angie, her mere presence already making you nervous. She was so so beautiful, her purple hair was in a messy bun, she was wearing a tight black dress which hugged her body perfectly and high heels to finish the look. “H-hi, Angie, you are very pretty to-tonight” you gagged, cursing yourself for making a fool of yourself. As an attempt to calm you down, Sackler brought his right hand to your lower back. “You look very good yourself, y/n” your crush replied making your face become instantly red. “T-thank you” you replied as the three of you made your way out of your home to the party, Adam leading the way. 

Getting to the party was easy, you three walked for about six minutes and you were already in the place, the sound blasting with dancy tunes, booze smell all around and a few couples making out in the grass in front of the house. The start was pretty fun, Sackler was the first to go solo - as usual - probably meeting some of his classmates or, more likely, already sucking someone’s lips out of their faces. You, on the other hand, was finally alone with Angie. After getting some drinks on the kitchen, the two of you made your way to the dancefloor, her body sensually touching yours as she danced against it, her head on your shoulder, it wasn’t long before your hands found her waist pressing her even more to you. The woman turned around and her black eyes met yours as she closed the distance between your faces sealing your lips with a deep hungry kiss. Unfortunately for you, after a while of heavy making out, Angie had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Her absence was starting to get too long making you nervous and worried that something might be happening.

It wasn’t long before you found her. 

Angie’s purple hair was what instantly made you recognize her, she was kissing someone else and it didn’t take you much to recognize that someone as well, his black hair, tall and broad figure dressed in white shirt and jeans were impossible to mistake, you just couldn’t believe that your best friend was kissing the girl you had been talking about ceaselessly in the past months, Adam Sackler was such a jerk. Before you could stop yourself, you poked his shoulder forcing his mouth to disconnect with Angie’s as his head turned around to face you. You didn’t give him a chance to say anything since as soon as his eyes met yours, your hand hit his face making a loud slap noise muffled by the song. Shortly after, you were out of the house making your way back home. 

That night ended even more terribly, the two of you had fought and said very mean things about each other, in the following day you were out there as you moved to a common dorm. Until this very moment you had never seen Sackler again. 

Fortunately, as soon as Adam finished the audition and the director said she would call him to tell if he got in, the man left the auditorium, causing you to, instantly, feel lighter knowing that you wouldn’t have to deal with him today. 

Oh boy, you were wrong. You only found out how wrong you were the minute you left the theatre when suddenly a hand pulled you from the direction you had been going. Your face stopped just a few inches before colliding with a defined chest that for you had just seen a couple of minutes ago. 

“What do you want, Sackler?” you asked, your tone showing your discomfort with the situation. “Hello for you too, kid. After all these years you are still mad at me?” the familiar voice you had listened to so much years ago filled your ears. “After all that bullshit you said to me? What do you think?” you gritted through your teeth getting angrier by the minute. “I was a dick to you, I know and believe it or not, I’m sorry. I have an explanation for what happened that night” he replied with a pout and giving you the same puppy eyes he used to give you when he wanted you to cook dinner. You laughed, “This is going to be good, but we are not doing this in the middle of the street, come” you said unable to resist his supplicating face. 

Stepping away from the man, you started to walk to your car parked just in front of the theater. Not hearing his heavy footsteps following, you turned to face him once again finding out that Sackler was still in the same damn spot you had left him in. “Are you coming?” you asked. As a reply you got an nervous nod from your ex-friend that quickly was getting in the car with you. The drive was filled with an awkward silence, neither of you knew what to say, things had ended badly and even though it had been a long time ago, losing your best friend because he couldn’t keep his tongue to himself still hurted a bit. Thankfully, the theater wasn’t far from your place, a three store building you had been living for two years, ever since you got the job in the acting company. There wasn’t a garage so you parked right outside not waiting for Adam as you made your way to the building’s front door, climbing its dark stairs while you looked for your keys in the mix of throwed things inside your purse. By the time you were finally able to open it, he was by your side switching his balance in between his legs. 

As soon as you entered your living room taking off your shoes and letting your purse by the dinning table, you turned to Sackler anxious for what he had to say. In the months which followed the big fight, you had wished to speak to him a lot, but your pride just wouldn’t allow it, you had missed him a lot too, but eventually you gave up and finally let yourself leave what had happened in the past, however, seeing him in front of you took you right back to those months where you foolishly hoped that he would come to beg you for forgiveness or that you would gather the courage to confront the man and solve things. 

“You can start whatever it is that you are planning to do” you said, doing your best to keep your emotions from showing in your face as you grabbed a cup of water trying to prepare yourself for what was coming your way. Adam swallowed dry before his voice met your ears. “Hm. Well, like I said before, I was a jerk to you and I know it and I also know that I probably should have looked for you earlier to say this” he started, his voice kinda shaky from the nervousness you could see in his body language. “You swear?” you mocked, a dry laugh following it. “I deserve this. See, kid, I read in a newspaper last week a review about your performance in the last play you theater company did and the minute your face showed up I was like ‘fuck this is the incredible girl I, yet again, pushed away being a total dick who can’t express his fucking feelings’. And I-i knew that I had to fix it, sure, maybe it is too late to, but I had to give it a try, I thought to myself.” he stopped looking into your eyes waiting for a reaction which caused you to nod interested in what Sackler had to say. “So I enrolled myself for the next male role they were auditioning for thinking of meeting you. I wasn’t expecting to see you at the try out, guess I was lucky” he shrugged “Here goes nothing. You see, kid, when you moved in, the first thing that went through my mind was ‘this woman is fucking hot’, but I was also really scared of  being too fucking weird and end up pushing you away, I’m a master at doing this kinda shit, ya’ know, so I stayed away. That was until I saw you dying to pass in that dick Jefferson’s test and decided to help you out. You were sweet, funny and kind.” you still remembered the day vividly, it held a special place in your heart and knowing that it did the same to him, made you softer causing your indiferent facade to melt away.

“And shit, ever since then you were so fucking present in my day, helping me out with my shit, watching those stupid fucking sitcoms and judging them with me. I fell for you and it scared the shit out of me so I didn’t do anything. Then you started to talk about that Angie girl, and I didn’t even want to kiss her, but you were so fucking into the woman that the only way I figured out for pushing you away from her was fucking her. I don’t even know what the hell I was thinking, you know I’m not a very smart guy with feelings. When you catched me with her I could see in your eyes how much I fucked up so, as I made my way home, I built up some walls around me trying to keep the situation from hurting me, which didn’t work. So when I found you at our place instead of apologizing like I should’ve done, I screamed and called you names. When you left the other day I was so fucking embarrassed and heartbroken that I never went looking for you to have this stupid conversation I’m having now, six years too late.” Adam finished making you even more angry than you were before.

“Unbelievable. You are so fucking stupid, Sackler. You have zero emotional intelligence, for fucks sake. I wanted to kiss you so bad when we started to hang out, but you didn’t give any fucking signal back. Think for a second of how much easier all of that would have been. God dammit, you need to talk to people. If you had told me any of your feelings I would have never have fallen for Angie, your gigantic idiot.” you throwed up the words, mad at the man for causing a huge problem that should have never even existed. “You liked me back?” he said, voice above a whisper. “You bet your sorry ass I did, jer-”, you were stopped when his lips met yours all out of the sudden. 

At first, you didn’t kiss him back still mad at him, but the part of you that never stopped missing Adam eventually won. You closed your eyes and allowed your hands to embrace his neck, your nails slowly scratching the part where his hair met the skin. As a reply, Sackler’s hand grabbed your ass tightly, squeezing it hard making you moan into his mouth and sending pleasure to your core. “Eager, are we?” he said mocking your red face and the little grunts that ended up escaping your mouth and dying in his. “Shut up, Sackler” you replied embarrassed at your own need. “Your wish is an order” he purred next to your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth teasing it with his teeth, up next, his mouth started to make its way to your breasts leaving a tray of purple and red marks along the way. “Let’s take this thing off” he said as his hands held to the bottom of your shirt lifting it up as quickly as he possibly could. When the piece of clothing met the floor, his eyes met your exposed nipples since you weren’t wearing anything under the shirt.

“Such a fucking slut, walking out there without a bra, begging for these to be sucked” he said, his deep voice dripping with arousal as his fingers teased your hard nubs. “I guess I’ll be the one to teach you some fucking manners”. As soon as the words left his mouth, he let go of your right nipple replacing his fingers with his tongue and slapping your ass hard making you squirm under his ministrations. Shortly after, his tongue gave espace to his teeth as he carefully bit your nub. “M-more” you whispered, your cunt aching for his touch. 

“More what?” Sackler replied his eyes with a mischievous glam looking directly into your as he gave your other ass check a hard slap making you groan. “Answer me, slut” he demanded, his roughness and dirty talk making you wetter. “More. Puh-lease, sir” your voice echoed through the room foreign to you since it was shaky from all the need and pleasure you were simultaneously feeling. “That’s more how I like it” the man stated taking all of his clothing of. “Undress and get on the couch” was all he said before starting to pump his length slowly, teasing its tip and gathering the precum oozing from it for lubricate his movements. 

Your body reacted before your brain could form a coherent thought, in instants, your pants and panties were on the floor connecting the way from the door to the couch and you were on your hands and knees in its comfy surface, your breath loud and heavy as you watched Adam touching himself, your anticipation killing you slowly. As he closed the distance between the two of you, his hands never stopped touching his big and hard erection. It wasn’t long before he was behind you, his index finger from the free hand slowly going up and down your folds never touching your sore stiff clit. “You are such a filthy thing. We barely started and you are already dripping. Your sweet pussy begging for my big cock to tear it”, all you could do besides moaning a serie of ‘please’s was nod your head several times hoping that it would encourage him to end your pain. “You want me to make you cum? Beg for it, slut” he purred, none of his hands quitting their movements. “Please, please, sir, make me cum, make me feel so fucking good, like only you can” you begged desperate for it. 

The reply you gave seemed to please him enough since his finger finally touched your clit causing you to release a relieved noise and allow your head to fall between your arms. While circling it, he took his other hand inserting two fingers in your slickery hole, curling them and hitting your g spot over and over again, following the same rhythm his other finger circled your clit applying just the right amount of pressure on it. Soon, your release was getting closer, your eyes started to close as you focused on every sensation Sackler made you feel. When your orgasm hit, you were sent to another dimension, pleasure coursing through your every atom as you moaned his name. 

After you recovered from your intense climax, Sackler took his fingers away from your pussy, substituting them with his thick and long erection, stretching you open in ways you had never been before, every inch making your feel fuller. When he was finally done, his filthy words filled the air once again “Y-you are so fucking tight, you are strangling my damn cock”. His sheer length was making you squirm already, but every word that left his mouth make you unconsciously clench your cunt around him. As soon as you got accustomed to his size, you threw your hips back, a sign that he could start moving. Quickly, he was pounding in and out of you, in and out of you, in a merciless pace which made the sound of his pelvis meeting your ass echo loudly through the living room, your moans just as loud. Sackler’s hands were gripping your waist so tight that you knew it would bruise - not that you really cared -. 

“Ur so fucking good to me - jesusfuckingchrist - I wished I had fucked this pussy earlier”, you tried to sassy him since he was the one to blame, but he was fucking you so well that you couldn’t form a understandable phrase, all that left your mouth were whimpers as you felt his cock filling you perfectly and hitting your cervix in a unbelievable pace. “You can’t talk back, slut?” he gave a strangled laugh “Like you better l-liike that”. 

Taking one of his hands out of your waist, he took it to your clit rubbing it quickly and  pressuring it deliciously, taking you closer to the edge with every passing second. The fullness you were feeling and the electricity your nub filled with blood was sending to your brain making you tighter. It wasn’t long before you climaxed for the second time, losing the strength of your arms as your body shook, if it wasn’t for his grip you would have fell with your face directly on the couch. “Sweetfuck, you are milking my cock, shitshit”.

His pace became irregular and it wasn’t long before he took his erection out of you painting your ass and back with his release. Gently, Sackler laid you on the couch asking you where the bathroom was. When he returned with a towel to clean you up, you were watching a sitcom - you had put it on after using all you strength left to pick the remote - waiting for him. “After you clean your mess, let’s watch it like the old times” you said shaking your head towards the tv. 

“If you insist” he said with a smile on his beautiful face.

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 21

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Angst with some fluff, cursing

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Re-reading this through is so weird to me. I’m sorry for all the angst, I hope you guys forgive me T_T

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 Books, clothes, equipment… It didn’t matter what was, if it was in my way it was getting shoved in my haste to reach the phone. It was like I could feel the storm of anger awaiting me on the other side of the hotel door, but priorities did come first. Soojin could go fuck herself for all I cared at the moment.

My thumb hovered over the tiny green telephone symbol for longer than necessary. Was it urgent enough to put above my job at the moment? I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother had just pocket called me or drank a little too much. It was too strange to have any positive implications. To be frank, I was probably trying too hard to convince myself otherwise because the opportunity to stall was too tempting to ignore.

Anyone who knew me well would know just how much I loved to procrastinate problem solving. Long lasting ones weren’t an exception in any case.

“(Y/n), you finally showed up.”

What? Fuck, I must have tapped it while I was lost in my brain.

“Mother,” I responded through gritted teeth. 

Trepidation weighed my tone down to the floor.

Then there was a silence that made me feel as unsure as ever. If you asked me to explain the feelings caused by the echoingly empty sound, I couldn’t tell you. It was as if she was carefully handpicking her next words. Tiptoeing so cautiously around her thoughts, just in case I didn’t like what she had to say and barred myself away once more.

She’s too foolish to understand that I can see through her, even if she’s not physically here.

I fiercely fought down the urge to grind my teeth in anger and chose to wait patiently instead. If she had to take the time to think about what she was saying, then she obviously wanted to be in my favour somehow. I could not for the life of me understand how she’d possibly thought that was a scenario that existed, but apparently it did.  

“Honey … how have you been these days?”  

A surge of bile bubbled up through my windpipe. This problem was becoming borderline toxic.

“You better get to the point before I hang up,” I seethed. The plan was to keep my tone calm and neutral but there was no way the hurt wasn’t going to seep through the cracks. Hearing how fake and desperate she’d become just single-handedly destroyed what little snippet of respect I had left, buried deeply somewhere there in my heart.

She scoffed almost soundlessly before heeding the request.

“Fine, if it’s really going to be this way. I need money. Your dumbass father has gone and crashed the car again, but this time he’s pretty messed up. We can’t afford all these bills and I really need some booze if I’m gonna stay sane in this shithole. You’re the only child still attached to us so you’re going to be the one to get your dunce of a dad out of debt.”

I felt my chest tighten the longer she spoke, albeit rather roughly, but the words were still heavy with wrenching information. I didn’t know exactly how to feel, but I knew this whole situation would be a hell of a lot easier without the tugging family ties making me second guess everything.

“Hold on, how bad is the accident?” I growled, trying to ignore the rest of her sentence about alcohol and shitholes. The thought of my own father being severely injured made my heart skip a beat in sudden fear. It wasn’t too bad, was it?

“Pretty damn bad, I guess. He was in the ER, and I’m sure the doctor said something about rehab? Acute rehab? Ugh, can’t remember.”

This is terrible, and she can barely bring herself to care!

Tears unwillingly pricked at the corners of my eyes and I furiously blinked them away.

“Is he on life support or something?”

“Not anymore. Dunno why he’s still being a dickhead and drink driving everywhere. Something was bound to happen eventually, and if it was up to me they should have slapped a band aid on it and sent him on his way. These fancy doctors just want to leech money from us.”

“You realise that money is what kept him alive, right?” I murmured in disbelief. There was a raging war of conflict taking place in my mind, and I couldn’t even fathom how she was being so nonchalant about all of it. Her own husband had almost died, and she was blaming the hospital for their crippling poverty.

“(Y/n), darling…”

There it was again, that wickedly sweetened voice that could only be a feeble attempt at manipulation at this point.

“I’m only going to think about it for the sake of life and death, I literally can’t believe how fucking disgusting you are. Don’t consider me attached to you ever again,” I choked out in a haze of fury. I could feel every shred of dignity and hope I had left for my family burn away into cloudy ash before me.

“I should have known better.”

And with that I hung up. The silence was too deafening, too close and invasive to be even remotely comfortable. I didn’t even know why the disappointment and vindication was hitting so hard and fast either, because in the back of my worrisome mind I always knew that nothing good could come from such a reach.

Wishful thinking. It seemed to be something I lived by too closely.

My eyes blurred with a watery film as I brought the phone screen upwards again. Soojin was waiting for me like a brewing storm outside, but I knew that I just couldn’t stitch myself back together for a meeting mere minutes after feeling my tendrils of a childhood slip away from me.

‘Can you come in here for a minute or two? It’s okay if you and Yoongi left already.’

I sent the text to Namjoon after a second of hesitation. I knew normally I would’ve dealt with the emotion and carefully hidden it away to move on with my working life. I wouldn’t have allowed anyone see past the drawn curtains into the darkness behind, but things had changed drastically over the past few months.

Since I had pulled that stupid stunt and distanced myself from everyone I cared about, things had changed. Yoongi’s words rang clearly through my head again and again like a broken record.

“You could’ve talked to us, we wouldn’t just ignore you if it was about something serious. Jesus, especially if you were feeling depressed. (Y/n), please…”

Then Taehyung’s.

“This is why you can’t hide your feelings. At least talk to one person, a close friend or something, because I know you haven’t…”

“I’m here.”

I sniffled in surprise as the hotel door clicked shut suddenly. Namjoon was by my side in less than a moment, breaths coming out in quiet pants even though he seemed to be trying his best at controlling the strained puffs of air.

“Oh God, you really ran back here for me?” I sighed, trying to tip my head back to get rid of the annoying things called tears.

“I was only down the hall, trust me,” Namjoon assured softly, taking notice of my sorry state of emotions and instantly switching his gaze to one full of concern. I watched as his perceptive eyes trailed down the length of my arm to the phone clasped into my shaking palms.

“(Y/n) …”

I almost jumped in my skin when he moved to slowly unclasp my fingers from around the warm device. The man took the rectangular object and slid it carefully onto the surface of the bedside table before taking a seat beside me on the bed. His honeyed voice was nothing but soothing to the ears.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Then I spilled it all, like a broken dam rushing to meet what physics required of it. His eyes hardened as I spoke about my mother and her overall attitude, but softened when I couldn’t help voicing my newfound conflictions. I wasn’t surprised to find myself cradled into his broad chest by the end of it.

“A-and Taehyung had just pretty much convinced me to try reaching out to them last night. Now I’m forced into making a decision I don’t even want to find myself making. It’s just that…if he dies I will never forgive myself, and I really, really fucking hate that.”

I was almost ready to openly cry into the flimsy polyester shirt he wore, but once again I found myself holding back in fear of losing face. I never knew why I just couldn’t let it all go for once in my life. Maybe it was something too utterly routine after years and years of practice.

“Nobody can blame you for feeling that way about your own father, (Y/n). It’s like a natural instinct to try and protect those closest to you,” Namjoon murmured lowly. I let my eyes droop shut as I tuned into the rumblings coming from his chest.

“That’s the thing. I’m not close to them at all.”

A hollow sigh was next. His body relaxed further as he grew used to the feeling of my tears sinking through his exercise shirt, because even though he was the one to bring me into the reassuring hold, he still wasn’t accustomed to such a close proximity with someone other than his bandmates. I felt so indebted to him in every way.

“Even so, it’s family. You feel this connection that no-one else can, and even if you don’t like who they are as people, there will always be a love there that you might think is just too unexplainable. Now that I think about it, your nature to care about others probably made you even more susceptible.”

I couldn’t help but widen my eyes. He was always able to just come out and spin my thoughts into the words I couldn’t come up with. He just seemed to understand the very world we lived in, along with all of its nasty people and ideologies, in a way I struggled to. I was shocked at how he was able to take any point of view, turn it around to see the other side of it, and grasp the concept just as easily. An optimistic part of it, nonetheless.

“Namjoon, why are you just so amazing?” I chuckled after a minute of contemplative silence. He’d fidgeted slightly when I hadn’t responded, wondering if he’d done something wrong or made things worse. He was a little goofy sometimes, but nobody could deny how brilliant he truly was as a person.

“I’m not really,” He huffed bashfully, and I was shocked again when I felt one of his large hands come up to stroke my hair in comfort. It was so weirdly easy to be comforted by him after such a stressful morning.

“It’s just easy to see why you’re feeling the way you are. Take my advice and think hard about what you want to do about it.”

I felt the pad of a finger wipe away the last of my salty tears from my skin. The action was so sweet I couldn’t help but lift my head to meet his heartwarming gaze. The sight of his slight smile and tiny dented dimples made my heart almost stutter to a halt.

“In the end, they may only be using you and may only continue to turn a blind eye to the wonderful daughter they have, but at least you know you did what you believed was right. Use the love they may not feel to love yourself and the person you are.”

“Namjoon, stop before I…”

Taehyung I wish you could look, because this is me opening up. It’s ugly isn’t it?

More tears suddenly flowed and for once I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Namjoon’s face fell as I sobbed loudly into his chest, the liquid remorse tumbling out unstoppably. I couldn’t see his saddened expression of relief, but I knew I wasn’t alone in feeling the pent up tension flow away along with the waterworks. His muffled ‘shh, it’s gonna be fine’ and gentle strokes of encouragement to my head began gradually replacing the emotions with joyous ones.

I felt so much appreciation and love for the man it almost hurt.

“I haven’t cried in front of anyone since primary school, up until this morning in the hallway and now here,” I whimpered after a few minutes, almost letting myself doze off to the feeling of his presence enveloping me. How long had it even been?

“I’m just glad you even told me as much as you did. Taehyung might have mentioned that a few of us could see your pain, even if you didn’t know it was there yourself,” Namjoon said after clearing his throat slightly. I felt bad that I’d forced him into staying with me through the bout of misery, but his words violently struck more than one chord.

Yeah, and he also mentioned something else.

I was suddenly reminded of Taehyung’s big revelation from the night prior. The feelings they all had for me. I forced myself to keep my eyes trained forward, but there was no way Namjoon hadn’t noticed the way my body tensed up all of a sudden.

I can’t ask him about it now, or confirm it. They’re in the middle of a busy schedule and I also have stuff to deal with. I’m going to have to wait until we’re back in Korea to confront them about it.

I relaxed again and finally removed myself from Namjoon. He looked up at my standing figure with slight confusion, not really being sure of my stability or composure just yet. I could only sigh to let us both know that I was feeling a hell of a lot better than before.

I took one amused moment to glance over his slightly ruffled black tresses, probably having little to no effort put into the style for a day such as this one. Soft hours were now open in the messy hotel room.

“Thank you so much, I really needed … all of that,” I smiled crookedly, indicating that I was ready to move on with my life and away from the dilemma of my family for now. Namjoon got to his feet quickly after almost knocking over the vase of flowers on the bedside table. He grunted in surprise while I laughed and grabbed for his flailing hand to help keep him steady.

“It’s fine, you know it always is. You’ve been through more shit this morning than most go through in a week or months. I’d say you deserve a shoulder to cry on whenever you need one,” he spoke seriously and nodded, averting his widened eyes down to where I still held his hand within my own. These guys really did love a lot of hand attention, I did come to find after all this time.

“You’re sent from the heavens Joonie,” I chuckled airily, feeling so many feelings but nowhere near as crushingly as I had earlier.

“You confused me with you, angel,” He replied abruptly, moving with a confidence I rarely saw to shift a stray lock of hair away from my face. His smile was so warm and his line incredibly cheesy, but I felt something within me snap. The love was too intense for me to overlook.

I stepped forward and reached up to cradle his smiling cheeks into my palms. There was a need to rise onto my tiptoes before my lips finally grazed his in a very restricted but needy kiss. I fought back a smile when I felt his muscles slacken in absolute shock, but then he was returning everything wholeheartedly. His large hands pulled me closer by the waist and his lips started moving against mine just as surely, as if it were something that had been waiting to happen for too long.

I almost felt myself get lost in the sensation, but something nagged at me the further I slipped away into the moment.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I gasped, pulling away reluctantly and squeezing my eyes shut in burning shame. I was embarrassed of myself for not upholding the pact I’d created about leaving the whole feelings thing until later on, plus I had basically thrown myself at him without giving anything resembling a warning.

“Why are you sorry? I think you just made me the happiest man on Earth,” Namjoon protested in shock, eyes wide and hands spread open to anticipate any sudden movements I made to escape. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink and I found it undeniably gorgeous to contrast his complexion.

“I promised to leave it, but I just couldn’t control myself. Can we finish this-”

I made a little circular motion with one finger.

“-once we get back to Korea? I just have to speak to everyone.”

Namjoon nodded and agreed tentatively. I could tell by the way his brows furrowed slightly that he’d probably figured out the reasoning behind my request, but he would have to wait to question Taehyung at another time. I inwardly thanked him for his overarching awareness.

“If you see Tae, tell him I’m alright and that he needs to stop blaming himself. I know he’s probably taking the whole Soojin thing badly. I’ll fix it all,” I continued in a more level tone of voice, bringing back the sense of professionalism as I began thinking of how I was going to go about this predicament.

“Of course. Good luck out there,” He gave my shoulder an awkward pat before moving towards the door. I sighed regretfully as the leader left without another word, the strange tension lingering but somehow not becoming an overpowering force.

It’s your own fault. You went and kissed him, so now you’ve gone and confused everyone and yourself.

I didn’t know what lay in store for me now, as the news would surely spread like an untamed wildfire; stemming from Tae and Namjoon undoubtedly. What a bloody dumb thing to do, considering I’d just been accused of fucking around with one of them already.

My phone vibrated against the smooth surface of the bedside table loudly. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, being the devil incarnate herself.

‘We’re waiting in the office area downstairs, I suggest you make it snappy or I’ll get on with this on my own.’

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[imaginesbymk]

“Someone New.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: MK loves Luca unconditionally, but she has doubts whenever she thinks about how he makes a living, and she wonders if he ever loved her at all to begin with.

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Adult!Me (MK)

Tags: swearing & my really bad italian translations + my bad attempts of writing angst (inspo; this drabble)

A/N: this plot is so cheesy, and i know i don’t write au/personal imagines, but this is just a lil something i put together as a celebration for reaching 500 followers!!! one shots are not open! 

read my luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby fic Pink + White here.

THE cigarette butt was put out in the ashtray when MK occupied the study room. Luca promised her a fancy dinner date at one of the finest restaurants in New York City, but he was late. In fact, he wasn’t even home. He wasn’t dead for sure. He was smart enough to dodge that fate. Instead he was out somewhere in the busy streets, probably attending a meeting with a company MK does not know of, or maybe got too carried away with the attractions the city had to offer at night. Maybe it was another woman. Either way, her blood was boiling. 

MK was a floater. Booze was always kept in a cabinet that opened every now and then, but she never dove into the chaotic lifestyle of partying and prohibition. She never thought in a million years she would wind up falling for a man who had an equal fair share of both, as his business dealt with importing and exporting alcohol into speakeasies, and the people who worked with him were no stranger to weapons and violence. 

The theatre in New York City was packed and busy, but they met at the wrong place at the wrong time. MK snuck backstage to get a glimpse of the performers, and instead walked in on a different room. Luca was trying to negotiate a deal with the manager of the theatre, they exchanged witty comments at each other just enough to show things were about to end on, quite literally, a broken leg. 

Luca turned his head when he noticed at the corner of his eye that someone was watching them at the door, surprised to see a person who wasn’t looking for trouble for the first time. She looked too naive to hold a gun properly. He watched as the manager shouted at MK, asking what she was doing there since only employees and performers were allowed in the back section, and tries calling for security. 

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” she backed away, not before giving Luca another glance and taking off from where she entered.

She saw him again on a different night. She had completely forgotten about their previous awkward encounter, but when she saw the familiar face taking a seat next to her at the bar, she recalled seeing the look he had when they first made eye contact.

“Apparently a lady can’t drink at the bar alone. So can a gentleman join ya?” He smirks, the bartender pours him about three fingers of gin.

She was stunned to see him nights after that. New York City was wild, and men like him took many breaths away. She slowly nodded, not using her words.

Was she sure about this? The man seemed dangerous, and more experienced in anything than she’ll ever be. Of all the women that dolled themselves up for the occasion and looked tremendously beautiful and sexy, while she simply wore what she could afford at that time, why would he give his attention to her and not them?

After shyly looking down at her glass, she dared to look back at him. He was still looking at her. The butterflies in her stomach danced as if they were listening to the song the band was playing on stage. It was those eyes.

MK gave up and headed for bed since it was already late, and the restaurant Luca had the idea of taking her to was most likely closed by now. She shuts the lamp and buried herself under the sheets, bottling her frustration by just clenching her jaw. He was home when she woke up. She found him in the study in a change of clothes, his hair was falling forward post-gel, and his raspy voice spoke in Italian with the telephone pressed against his ear.

“Sono io. Diglielo che l’affare è ancora concluso.”

MK melted every time he spoke his mother tongue, this time she couldn’t bare to hear him speak. She was still upset about last night, she didn’t wanna speak to him, yet she had so much to say. She leaves him to wake herself up with coffee without the thought of preparing a cup for him too. Minutes go by and MK sips her beverage when she hears him enter the kitchen. Luca stands on the other side of the island counter, looking down at her mug.

“I’m just gonna boldly assume you didn’t make me coffee on purpose.”

“Buongiorno to you too, Luca.” She turns away so she couldn’t face him.

“MaryKate.” She felt an odd tingle in her spine. Luca almost never refers to her by her full name, not even by her other nickname, which was Kate. It was beyond weird. He walks over and cups her face. “C’mon. I’m sorry, okay? I got wrapped up with business. I was literally losing my mind because those bird brains couldn’t do simple math—”

MK was about as half ready to smash the half filled coffee mug on the floor. “My God, Luca. Business this, business that. It was your night off for the whole fucking week. You couldn’t make Matteo take over?”

Luca swore under his breath and walked back to his study.

“Where are you going?” she asks sternly.

“Back to work.” You gotta be fucking kidding me. MK watched him disappear back into the study room, and she let out a groan. The caffeine entering her bloodstreams increased her pounding heartbeat, but she quickly calmed herself when she followed him inside.

“Can I come with you to your next meeting?”

“Do you wanna meet Santa Claus too?” Luca said dryly.

“I’ve only been to one meeting. I can’t imagine the rush of power unless I’m there to feel it, and you won’t let me.”

“Yeah, damn fucking straight I won’t let you,” Luca cleared his throat. “That last meeting, those people tried to make you feel uncomfortable.” He looked up from his work from the desk and stared at MK. “I won’t let you see what’s really behind closed doors.”

But the few nights after took a whole different turn. MK wouldn’t listen, and managed to unlock Luca’s cabinet filled with his weapons, and picked out the one she thinks she was capable of using. She didn’t enjoy stealing, but proving to Luca she could be just like him and still be with him would bring them closer was on her mind. It ended with her sneaking up on the group of men Luca and his men were speaking to, and she pointed her gun at the presumable leader.

Luca’s eyes filled with dread as he froze in his spot, immediately recognizing her. Matteo grabbed the gun from MK, cursing in Italian how stupid she was and why she followed them. They were lucky the men backed down when they realized it wasn’t a good time just yet, but the worst wasn’t over.

Luca and MK’s shouts echoed their entire manor that it was enough for the neighbors to hear them.

“I can’t trust you anymore!” Luca shouted. “You realized what you could of done?! Putting yourself in danger like that?!”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” he slams the table. “I didn’t need you to follow me, all right?” he began cursing in Italian, something MK was never able to fully understand his language one hundred percent. He held her by the shoulders. “If you ever do that shit again, I’ll—”

“You’ll what, Luca?” she pushes him. “Leave me? You’ve been pushing me aside, you forget our date nights, I end up sleeping in our bed alone, wondering if your body is laying dead on the ground! Do you have any idea how much that scares me? I get how insane it is being in the mafia, but if you can’t spare one night with me, then why am I here?”

“Y’know what, maybe you’re right. Why the fuck are you here?” MK looked at him with an icy shock. Instead of processing what he had just said, Luca turned to head back to his office. “When you gain back your fucking senses, let me know.” And he slams the door.

None of them spoke all day, too caught up in their anger to check up on each other. Luca occupied himself alone while MK wandered around the house, avoiding the corridor to his study. She checked his schedule, he had somewhere to be the following evening, no surprise. 

She stayed in the kitchen until she heard Luca’s footsteps descend from the stairs and out the front door. As soon as she heard his car drive off and having the house to herself once again, MK slides down the wall of the hallway and finally broke down into tears.

Once she calmed down, she walked up to their shared master bedroom, and packed everything she could carry in her suitcase. The last thing Luca said to her caused an aching pain in her chest. 

She could just walk out if she couldn’t take it, Luca could find another woman to sleep with without any issue. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone new entered his life a week after. It would hurt like hell, but it was the sad reality of it all.

MK walked out. No goodbyes. No telephone calls, no handwritten note, just an empty house.

_

HER old home was now owned by a friend of hers, and it contrasted the luxurious, spotless abode Luca let her stay in uptown. The taxi drive was quite long and she was exhausted, so she collapsed in the small bed, sleeping in the dress Luca had always loved seeing her wear. 

He spoiled her with riches and shared his aesthetic with hers, making sure she had her spot with fashion and art. In MK’s old home, it was decrepit. No one paid a visit because they hated the design, and no one saw her for who she really was, but Luca was different. He wanted her, and he got her. 

Days go by and MK still had the aching heartbreak in her chest as she entered downtown New York City at night to see a show in the grand theatre. She had to admit, she was bummed out when she saw how many people brought their lovers or husbands and wives to the show, and it seemed like she was the only one without either. She was alone.

MK picks up her pace and rushed inside to take her assigned seat and sighed in relief, staring at the red curtain on stage ready to come up and showcase the night, hoping to distract her from her inexplicable grieving.

The empty seat next to her was then taken, filling in the space between her and the next guest after. MK took in how the man’s fragrance was enriched and strong, and she could see the giant rings on his finger nearly covered some of the tattoos inked on his skin, including the crown tattoo on his hand, or the one on his neck which was a cross. His hat rested well on his lap and he hooked one leg on the other. His suit was clean as usual, and the cuffs on his wrist enclosed with the golden pressed buttons. 

No. Her heart raced as she turned to see his face. She was met with those eyes.

One thing she forgot to remember was the fact that Luca loved theatre, this was the theatre he usually goes to, and this was where they met. Of course he wouldn’t miss a show. He kept staring straight ahead as the loud cheers and applause erupted when the curtains rose. 

MK could barely pay attention to the performance. The tension rising between Luca’s presence and hers pressed together so tightly. He did this on purpose, MK thought. Fucking bastard!

Unless the last two empty seats were meant for them so coincidentally, as both of them bought solo tickets and wounded up next to each other. But this was insane. Luca was entitled enough to watch the shows up on the balcony for the best seats in the house, so why pick the orchestra seats?

It didn’t matter how, she never felt so uncomfortable in her entire life and couldn’t stifle her panic. 

Luca broke the ice, quietly talking over the music that transitioned to a slow chorus. “I made the owner arrange a seating. It was meant for another couple, but they never showed up.” He tries reaching for her hand when he noticed her tensing up. “MK, amore. calm down.” He looked at her with worry. “All right. I think we need to talk.”

MK broke out in an exhaled cry and got up. “Fuck this.” She carefully goes passed the seated guests before heading out the exit, running out of the theatre in tears until she could no longer breathe.

Luca chased after her onto the streets, pushing past people along the way. “MK, c’mon! Please don’t go.”

MK stopped and covers her face in her hands. “Don’t talk to me with that intimidating mafia shit, then!” Speak like a fucking human being, Luca!”

“Fine,” Luca pulled her from behind and held her. “I’m sorry.” He kisses her shoulder up to her neck. “I need you. It doesn’t feel right not having you here, MK.”

“You have far more important things than someone like me,” she says. “And you agree with that.” MK shivers, feeling the night cold and she hugs herself with her thin layered trenchcoat.

“You had nothin’ else to wear but that?” Luca’s eyes loomed over her outfit. “That’s not for winter.” He removed his long overcoat and wraps it around her. “You’re just as important as my work, and I didn’t take that seriously. I should of paid more attention.”

“You can’t just push me aside, Luca.” She turns around to face him. “Eventually, I’ll end up finding someone new, someone who won’t treat me like a second option.”

“I’d rather die.” Luca cupped her face. “I’ll do better, you hear me? God forbid if I ever neglect you again, I would never forgive myself.”

“Luca—”

“No. It’s hard to balance love and work, but I can’t just toss you away like that. You’re all the world to me.”

MK lookes down sadly. “Luca, I just know nothing will change. We’re so different.”

Luca shook his head. “That’s not gonna stop me.”

“But why?” MK asks. “There are women out there who would gladly take my place any day, and they’re ten times more experienced.”

“Sure, that may be true. But I can’t imagine spending my life with those women, sharing my home with them, waking up next to them, holding them, possibly having a future with them.” He lifts her chin. “Because I love you.” And he leans down, kissing her softly. MK wrapped her arms around him for support. He pressed his forehead on hers, his eyes still shut.

“I love you too, Luca.” The couple pulls away. “So, are we heading back inside?”

“Actually, there’s this restaurant I’ve been dying to take you to,” he smirks as he took her hand, and they began walking off down the streets of New York City, the lights blaring up on their bright faces like they were brand new.

_

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[meinior]

A text popped up on her phone with emojis and stickers added on for flare. Another coworker get together that it started to feel like a bi-weekly chore and of course the one to initiate was a well known woman.

Cassandra.

An employee in the HR department whose love life was as fickle as her work habits, it's no short of a miracle how she and Mei became good friends during the past year. They had their fair share of ups and downs and for once the woman dubbed for being so introverted found someone she could easily call a best friend despite their differences. Cassandra in turn could say the same about the spectacled girl even if Mei was still embarrassed about the littlest of compliments.

There was a small problem however as Mei had completely forgotten about this rendezvous and Cassie would never hear the end of it. “Crap,” she sighed while driving her way home, “Okay I haven't done my damned laundry yet but at least it isn't freezing out. So I could— no way I could never wear something like that. Urgh.” Maybe she would call her tardiness a blessing that spared the woman from the judgmental eyes of her own self upon looking in her bedroom mirror; yet the flaws never leave her mind like a nagging devil.

The bar was filled with older folks and colleagues which was a relief; last time Mei was taken to a place with younger people she thought her heart would stop. She apologizes to everyone for being late and as usual takes a spot by her friend, Cassie compliments her look; the usual tied back ponytail is gone and Mei's hair is finally free from the confines of health and safety regulation codes, along with her clothing. Though she edges her friend to take off her coat, Mei is hesitant as hell to do so saying it goes well with her rather short hemline. The group talk over drinks and dinner, some go to dance and others go elsewhere, for Mei she leaves the table for a more quieter spot on the bar. Her friend is gone to flirt with others and Mei keeps an eye out to make sure she at least gets a cab home.

She shifts in the stool to get one leg crossed over the other, leaning back a bit to fan herself. “A Manhattan, please,” her card is placed on the bar; she knows to keep a tab open this time but just for herself. The scent of whiskey wakes her up but also has her getting warmer by the moment. “Curses,” a mumble as she swallows her pride and begins undoing the buttons on her jacket.

One by one she gets even more embarrassed, more heated up and at this point she isn't sure if it's the cocktail. An agonizing two minutes before the woman is more or less exposed, and again she's mentally cursing her cousin for sending her such a short and tight dress. The neckline going down much farther than what she's used to and its string design similar to the crisscrossing pattern of shoelaces. Mei giggles to herself at the mere thought, right, it was definitely the booze that had her laugh stupidly so there’s no reason she has to be so uptight tonight. Tonight was supposed to be some relaxing.

From the corner of her eye she can easily notice people's stares, a woman dressed like that drinking by her lonesome, and by god does she wish she could leave. It could be that simple but she's also a good friend. It's been a while that Mei had been drinking the same glass and so she downs it rather quickly and orders another, damn they were good at this place.

A quick look around and glance at her phone... Yes, Cassandra was occupied with another coworker she had spoken with that night. Mei didn't poke her nose into that business and figures her friend was more than capable tonight.

The blush on her cheeks is getting even more red and it's only been her third drink! She could only think about how earlier she had met up with her ex-boyfriend at work asking about her attendance tonight, and once more him asking if he'd get another shot. Too bad for him. Mei couldn't get seriously romantic with a coworker, or anyone in general and she feels some tears start. Mei hated to admit how much she pushed most people away and it was Cassie's equal stubbornness that they ended up getting along well. Even after her friend found about the true extent of her research.

"Maybe I should quit, ha ha, but how the hell would I afford a living then? I really am stupid." The short laugh dies down to a soft smile. Sip by slow sip her glass empties with just a cherry garnish left. Her hand ruffles her hair in frustration as she imagines herself having some comfortable company; someone that would listen to her incessant wailing without a care in the world. Someone that would listen to her now humming to the song stuck in her head.

This time she orders her final drink, a Boulevardier. Mei thumb over the sides of the frosted glass while she sips, the coolness is nice to the touch as more people seem to come and go. But here she's been by her lonesome for the past two hours like a sad maiden. Thinking of her life choices whilst somehow not falling asleep on the bar, her card is given back and she thanks the barista. It's not long before she grabs her stuff to retreat into a cab.

Her apartment is dark and quiet. It's lonely with only the sound of her heavy breathing and footsteps against the tiles of the hallway. The bedroom window open invites a much needed cool breeze as Mei manages to set her glasses down gently. Heels kicked off in a sloppy manner and the front her dress barely untied, looking at her phone but not reading the messages. The drinks are taking effect now as the woman is quick to fall onto her bed. 

“ Nobody, nobody. Ooh, nobody, nobody, nobody. ...I have work in the morning, don’t I. Maybe I’ll take the day off for once, yeah, I wouldn’t missed that much now would I?” Another short burst of soft laughter is replaced by her snoozing.

[hitchell-mope]

(Third film. Kronk’s Tavern. Facillier’s just sat down at the bar next to Hades (Eva Green) who’s nursing a large flagon of beer)

Facillier: so you’ve heard

Hades: heard? Of course I’ve fucking heard. Your daughter and my son are dead

Facillier: legally. Legally dead there may still yet be hope

Hades: he has no magic. And she’s not powerful enough to keep the both of them alive. So either they’re both dead or there’s going to be a rampaging homicidal heartbroken teenager laying waste to the island any day now

Facillier: you don’t know that.

Kronk (genuinely trying to help): well anything’s possible isn’t it? Both could be dead or one had to eat the other. Phytoplankton only goes so far you know

Facillier: Kronk! There’s a call for you downstairs.

Kronk (not getting the sarcasm): OH BOY

(He launches headfirst into the floor knocking himself out cold)

Facillier: tch. Sideskicks. Now that’s been taken care of. How are you doing?

Hades: my second son is presumed dead. So is your first daughter. What do you think?

Facillier: not very good

Hades: nope!

(She takes another massive swig of beer)

Facillier: where’s Hadie right now?

Hades: with Antony at the butchers. Why?

Facillier: let’s get out of here. You can come back to mine. And we can

Hades: oh ho ho. The offers greatly appreciated. You don’t know how much. But I have a wife

Facillier: I know. She dumped you the morning after the wedding night the moment she realised she was pregnant with Mal.

Hades: oh, no. No. I mean my first wife. Persephone. After all this trouble I think it’s time I put our arrangement aside and focus on her and my five, sorry, four, four children.

Facillier: be that as it may. You’re in no state to be alone tonight. At least let me escort you back to your lair

Hades: nope. Nope. Too risky. I don’t trust myself

(This is when “honey I’m good” happens. After the song she collapses into Facillier’s arms completely drunk)

Facillier: yeah....I’m taking you back to my place. You can’t be alone tonight

Hades (mumbling): ifyoumustyoumust

Facillier: heh?

(Hades mumbles again. This time even more unintelligibly. Then pushes herself away from him)

Hades: fine then. Walk me home.

Facillier: start going. I’ll catch up.

Hades: oooh no no no. You’re walking me back to your place.

Facillier: someone has to pay for the booze

Hades (incredulously): it’s KRONK!

Facillier:....fair point

(They leave the tavern and make their way back to the arcade. This is when “walk me home” happens. After the song they walk through the door of Facillier’s arcade, Hades (having switched to his Sebastian Stan form) being half carried-half dragged inside by Facillier)

Anastasia: so he’s heard?

Facillier: and then some. And kronk was absolutely no help whatsoever

Anastasia: Well you know what we sidekicks are like

Facillier: yes I do. I was one.

Anastasia: oh yeah....I forgot about that

Facillier: everyone does. Help me get him to the sofa

Hades (grumpily pushing himself off from Facillier): no-ohhhh!!!! Imma go drinkie-poo some more

Anastasia: drinkie-poo?

Facillier: cut him some slack alright? He’s grieving his son. I doubt you’d be coping well if Anthony were dead

Anastasia: first off. No one should ever mourn a pirate. Secondly. Assumed dead is very different than ACTUALLY dead. Thirdly. Uma’s in the same situation and you’re not falling apart.

Facillier: I can’t afford to.

Hades (over at the bar): STOP TALKING!!!! I’M WALLOWING HERE!!!!

Anastasia: yeah, we know. And you need to stop

Hades: why the he>hic<ell should I?

Anastasia: because it’s not healthy?

Hades (hair bursting into flames): I AM A GOD!!!!

Facillier: yeah, yeah, we heard you the first 98 million times. Now! We need to sober you up

Hades: wahverfor?

Anastasia: it’s unseemly for a being of your calibre to behave in this manner

Hades: oh fuck off Human!

(Facillier pulls Anastasia off to the side)

Facillier: I think it’s time to try a different approach

Anastasia: ya think?

Facillier: the question is; what do we do?

Anastasia: if we can make this slag heap partially liveable we can kick a deity out of his funk.

Facillier: yeah but how?

Anastasia: to music of course.

Facillier: now why didn’t I think of that?

Anastasia (cupping his face in her hands and looking fondly at him): because you can be a right old idiot sometimes

Facillier: thank you Ana, thank you for the help

Anastasia: it’s what I’m here for Antoine. HADES!!!! What happened to you. We made this island what it is. We built everything from the arcade to the docks. Admittedly it only took 12 hours but we did it. So why are you so down in the dumps?

Hades: I grew up. I have four-three-one. I have 1 child on this island and now he’s all grown up. I’m superfluous.

Anastasia: but people used to run at the mere mention of your name. What happened?

Hades: I’m dead inside

Anastasia: then reignite. Antoine!

(Facillier turns the stereo on. This is when “we built this city” happens. After the song they collapse on the sofa)

Anastasia: feel a bit better?

Hades (chuckling slightly): a bit

Anastasia: gonna stop the hard drinking?

Hades: yup

Anastasia: alright then. In that case. I’m gonna go back to my place. The meat ain’t gonna cut itself you know

Facillier: you could just ask us to help you with magic

Anastasia: nah, I like doing it myself. Keeps me busy. See ya tomorrow

Facillier and Hades: see ya

Hades (immediately after the door closes): I lied

(He launches himself at the bar intent on getting more beer)

Facillier: oh no you don’t!

(He clicks his fingers and Hades ends up suspended in mid air. This is when “I do not hook up” happens. After the song the focus momentarily shifts back to Uma and Celia witnessing the flashbacks)

Uma: wow. They were cut up

Celia: yeah....

Uma (breaking into laughter): THIS IS AMAZING!!!!

Celia: what

Uma: don’t you see? This means someone actually cares about me. I always thought-

(Suddenly they get pulled out of the arcade and into another building filled with exercise equipment, a boxing ring and musical devices)

Celia: where are we

Uma: Morgana’s Speakeasy

Celia: there’s a speakeasy on the island?

Uma: sort of. She told me it’s fun to say. And more inviting then mere bare knuckle boxing. Why would the incense bring us here though?

Celia: of course. Look.

(Uma turns to see the action behind her. Morgana looks shellshocked as Anastasia fetches her a drink)

Morgana: she’s gone. Dead. Dead and gone

Anastasia: assumed dear and gone. There’s still a chance she’s alive

Morgana: if he tries to worm his way back here he’s in for a nasty dose of reality. I can tell you that nothing

Anastasia: Morgan, you’ve got to stop doing this. Not everything has to be traced back your psycho sister and Antoine.

Morgana: tell that to them then.

Anastasia: that’s....a lot of T’s in one sentence. You know what you need? Visualisation Therapy.

Morgana: and that would be?

Anastasia: I don’t know. I read it in a book. And I’m spouting it to what I made Hades do just now. I see no reason why it can’t work on you as well.

Morgana: what do we do?

Anastasia: you’ve got second hand karaoke right?

Morgana: at the bar

Anastasia: perfect. (She walks over to the bar). Now let’s see. Hmmmm. Ooh! Perfect.

(She switches on the machine. After a few stutters and a tiny, easily squashed fire the music starts)

Morgana: oh Christ not this one. It doesn’t even make sense

Anastasia: who cares? Just sing it!

Morgana: ugh. Fine

(This is when “big girls don’t cry” starts. After the song the Speakeasy melts away and the two sisters get pulled upwards)

Uma: what was that?

Doug: ten minutes are up. Come on

(He leads them back into the kitchen where Carlos is glowing with white light and viciously beating Harry up as everyone but Hades, Elsa, Hadie and the Hook sisters cheer him on)

Uma: what the hell’s going on?

Doug: Harry ran his mouth. Carlos got so pissed off he unlocked his latent demon magic. And is now currently in the process of beating the shit out of Harry

Uma: and the king allowed this?

Doug: he’s Carlos’s father. Of course he did.

Uma: DE VIL. STOP THIS RIGHT NOW

Carlos (with the “I’m far too cute for you to get mad at me” look on his face): Sono sempre così terribilmente dispiaciuto capitano. ma non ho la più pallida idea di cosa stai insinuando

Uma: what?

Carlos: means “no”. I can speak Italian now

Jay: I like Italian Carlos

Uma: aren’t you English or something

Carlos: my biological fathers the coachman from pleasure island. Who else do you think would willingly reproduce with Cruella De Vil?

Uma:....good point. But you’re what? 16? How have you only just unlocked your magic?

Carlos: never been quite so pissed off before. Thank you Hook

(Harry wheezes and coughs up blood in response)

Doug: anyway....hades, Mal. I believe you two were going to tell them something.

Hades: yes! Right. Sorry. Uh. Where to start?

Doug: want me to help?

Mal: please?

Doug: fine. When I was under the sleeping curse Maleficent appeared to me and tried to get me to betray you all and join her. I stabbed her with a material dark fae are allergic to and she teleported away. But before they she said something that got me thinking. Some crap about being naive and on your own. But I wanted to know more. So I asked Hades. And then told him to tell Mal cause you know it’s her family history even if she doesn’t see herself as Maleficent’s daughter anymore. Now your turn. Your eminence

Hades: Maleficent isn’t french. She’s Persian. In the year three hundred she decided she wanted rule her kind. Only. They weren’t hierarchical. So she got mad. And killed them. Every last man, woman and child. Until she was the last one left. Then made her way to france. She made a name for herself. Became the Mistress Of All Evil. In 1300 Aurora was born. And, well, you know the rest.

Uma (incredulous): what?

Mal: and the really funny thing is. I don’t know how to speak Persian. But apparently. I can understand it. Take it away dad

Hades: امروز برای صبحانه چی خوردی؟

Mal: bakers dozen egg yolk omelette deep fried in chunky chocolate peanut butter. SEE!?!?

Uma: I-I-I I can’t

Evie: neither can I Uma. But let’s face my sister is inordinately and insanely unfairly lucky

Carlos: are you seriously still on this?

Evie: I just don’t think it’s fair that Mal is willing to forgive him after what he did and yet I’m not allowed to be rightfully mad he abandoned me for sixteen years

Mal: we’ve been over this E. You know why he did what he did

(The two sisters continue to argue as Carlos approaches Jay)

Carlos: I think it’s time for that spell again

Jay: good. Because I really like what happens when we use it. By your leave C

Carlos: thank you. To get rid of these ants in their pants/I command thee all to get up and dance.

(This is when “we are” happens. After the song. Evie now looks more annoyed than ever)

Evie: stop doing that!

Carlos: why? I think it’s hilarious.

Ben: yeah it is actually kinda growing on me

Evie: well I don’t like it. So stop doing it. Ok?

Carlos: when did you become such a drag?

Evie: hmmmmm let’s see. Probably right around the time I found out I’m related to two of the people I hate most in this world.

Carlos: hmmmmm. Nah. You were a drag before today

Mal (sensing danger): ok that’s it!

(She clicks her fingers and the whole house melts away along with everyone else leaving her and Evie in a beige coloured void)

Evie: what did you do that for?

Mal: because you snapped at Carlos.

Evie: of course. Of course you defend the precious prince(.)

Mal: what is your problem? Huh? I’m mean you weren’t exactly sugary sweet before. But today you’ve been downright freaky. Ever since I connected the dots you’ve been indulging in this pity party act that just isn’t like you. And sometimes you’re fine. And then you go ballistic for no good reason-oh my god. Is it your uh....?

Evie: what? No. That’s next week.

Mal: ohhhh. Then what is it? Cause frankly. You’re being a nightmare. And you really need to-

Evie: I don’t know ok! And even if I did know. I wouldn’t tell you. Cause there’s no way in His realm you would ever understand

Mal: and just what is that supposed to mean?

Evie: I don’t ugh I just. (Irritable sigh). It’s just that.

Mal: tell me

Evie: no

Mal: why not? Maybe I could help

Evie: you couldn’t. I doubt even Doug or Dizzy could help.

Mal: why?!

Evie: BECAUSE IT’S NOT HAPPENING TO YOU!

Mal: what!

Evie: you just don’t get it. Everything was fine. I escaped my mother. I have Doug. I have Dizzy. I gave our house. And then this happens. And you are oh so smug about it.

Mal: I’m afraid I’m not following.

Evie: of course you’re not. Allow me put this in terms you might understand

(This is when “better than I” happens. After the song. Evie snaps her fingers and takes them back to the kitchen)

Evie: so do you?

Mal: do I what?

Evie: know better than I do? Know why it’s so difficult for me to accept this?

Mal: no

Evie: then keep out of it then

(She stalks out of the kitchen)

Uma: whoo. I do believe you’ve touched a nerve

Carlos: shut up Uma

Uma: or what?

Carlos: or I’ll make you

Uma: you wouldn’t dare

Carlos: I almost killed you back in the mirror. And that was without magic. Imagine what I can do now that I have it

Uma: you don’t scare me De Vil

Carlos: of course not. Because you don’t want to face the fact that the “weak little human bitch” that you loved siccing Harry on. Can now REPEATEDLY hand you your multi legged ass on a platinum platter

Uma: you wouldn’t dare.

Carlos: oooh let’s see now

(He summons Uma’s nautilus necklace to his hand and freezes her in place)

Carlos: how’d she do this again? Oh yeah

(The nautilus begins glowing white hot and he starts singing)

Carlos: 🎶If you want to cross the bridge, you bitch/You've got the pay the toll/Take a gulp and take a breath/And please try not to be a troll/mom and dad you know I've got her, guys/The prince is on a roll/This poor unfortunate soul🎶 What was next? Oh right. 🎶Beluga sevruga. Come winds of the Caspian Sea/Larengix glaucitis/Et max laryngitis/La voce to me🎶 Now, sing!

Carlos (with an insanely sadistic smile on his face): Keep singing!

(White smoke pours out of the nautilus, forms into hands and makes their way to Uma’s throat. Which is itself glowing. Just like Ariel’s did all those years ago.)

Uma (utterly pants shittingly terrified): Aah...

(The smokey hands had just about reached into Uma’s mouth when Doug snatches the nautilus out of Carlos’s hand and throws it back to Uma who falls to her knees and starts sobbing brokenly)

Carlos: hey dude, not cool.

Doug: now is really not the time C. Alright?

Carlos: urgh. Fine

(Doug follows Evie upstairs. Carlos looks around in mild surprise)

Carlos: hey. Where’d my folks go?

(Out in the backyard Ben and Mal are surveying the completely totalled gazebo)

Mal: so whadya say? Can it be salvaged?

Ben: possibly sold to a salvagers. OOOH! I know! If we clean the wood up and fix any missing chunks I can take it to the island and give it out as free firewood. Wait. Does winter exist on the isle?

Mal: there’s no snow. But it’ll get very cold very fast at the end of August.

Ben: that should be enough time to clean and multiply the wreckage.

Mal: sounds like a plan.

Ben: whatcha thinking of?

Mal: sisters getting on my nerves

Ben: again

Mal: well at least I’m trying. Which is a damn sight more than she’s doing.

Ben: perhaps she doesn’t want you to try? Like how you never let us go to therapy with you?

Mal (realising what he means): oh. Never thought about it like that before

Ben: eh that’s alright. There’s a lot that’s been going on today. S’understandable. And besides. Even if you don’t patch it up today. You’ve got until the sun expands to talk it over. And then some. But just remember you’ve got me as well.

(He waggles his eyebrows and smiles that “who said I can’t be an incorrigible little shit just because I’m the king” smile that always makes Mal laugh)

Mal (through her laughter): oh how positively awful

(This is when “1000 years” happens. After the song. Bal hug each other. Then Mal sees something in the kitchen)

Mal: I’m so sorry. You give very, very good advice. But I’m afraid I have to go and make a scene.

(She heads back inside)

Ben (chuckling to himself): I wouldn’t have it any other way

(In the kitchen. Evie’s behind the counter. She’s put her hair up in a messy bun, taken all her makeup off and is forest green pyjamas monogrammed with the initials “D.N.S.G”)

Mal: what’re you doing? This isn’t like you. Getting ready for bed when you have guest. What’re you playing at?

Evie: I’m tired, Mal. It’s been a long. I’ve been put through hell. So excuse me but im going to bed

Mal: at 9:40 in the evening?

Evie: you all know where your rooms are. Celia can bunk with Dizzy. Hades, Hadie and Elsa can camp out in the living room. The pirates can fuck off outsude for all I care. I’m. Going. To bed

Gil: this really does seem unlike you E. Party isn’t over yet. And, plus, we’ve still got to come up plan to stop Chad, Maleficent and Adam.

Evie: but we can’t do that right now. You know that right? If we make up a plan right now and go in guns blazing we’re toast. You understand that right? I mean what the hell are we compared to them? Huh? (Pointing to Mal). A dragon in therapy.(Pointing to Ben). The one scaly to rule them all. (Pointing to Carlos). A teenager who’s four steps away from being a marvel villain. (Pointing to Jay). Civilised Tarzan. (Pointing to Uma). Kleines Fräulein tunnel vision. (Pointing to Harry then Hadie). My brothers slut one and slut two. (Pointing to Harriet). Scottish Bellatrix. (Pointing to Hades). My abandoner of a father. (Pointing to Elsa). An ice queen with social anxiety. (Pointing to CJ). A Liddellite. (Pointing to Celia). Lyra fucking Silvertongue. (Pointing to Lonnie). The general. (Pointing to Jane). A powder keg full of marshmallows. (Pointing to Gil). Blonde Hercules. (She gets kinder now as she points to Dizzy). My beyond intelligent daughter. (Pointing upstairs which is where Doug still is). My talented amazing brilliant extremely handy boyfriend. (Pointing to herself). And me. The only one in this place with any brains. So you see Gilly. We can’t beat them like this. So I’m going to bed. And we can reconvene in the morning. Good night and leave me alone

(She turns to leave but Carlos stops her)

Evie (whining): whahahat? What now?

Carlos: rooms?

Evie: what? Oh yeah. Let’s see now. Most of you know where your rooms are anyway. Uhhhh. Celia. You can share with Dizzy. Elsa and Hades can sleep on the fold out couches in the lounge. The pirates can sleep outside. It’s supposed to rain tonight. Hopefully they’ll melt. Once again. Goodnight!

(She leaves again. She’s halfway up the stairs when Squeaky starts whimpering in pain in his sleep. Squirmy soon joins him. And then they both start crying)

Evie (inhaling sharply through her nose): this is just not my day is it? (Calling up the stairs) Doug. Could you come down. (Bitterly). The shit’s hitting the fan.

(After Doug comes back down. The twins are still screaming and crying in their sleep. And he pirates are looking progressively more terrified)

Uma: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!?!

Mal (frantically flipping through the spell book): I don’t know! I don’t know!

Hades: and what time is it now?

Hades (thinking intensely): twelve hours. DOUGLAS! What time was it when my ex wife and that class traitor attacked the house?

Doug: uhhhh. 10am. Why?

Hades: and what’s time now?

Matty (who’s just arrived and been witnessing the past events amusedly with a very frightened Dude in his arms): 9:50pm

Carlos: GIVE ME BACK MY DOG!!!! (Matty does so). Thank you. Now. What the hell are you doing here you little freak?

Matty: temper temper Mr De Vil. I suggest you treat me a mite more kindly because right now I am your only hope of keeping those two awake past sunrise.

(At this point the screen cuts to Ursula’s restaurant on the isle. The time stamp on the screen says “several hours ago”. Hook’s at the piano, all limbs and mental faculties restored and he’s giving a little performance to all the villains who are meeting there. This is when “little drop of poison” happens.)

[ghost-in-the-hella]

19 with Victoria Chase and Chloe?

For whatever reason, I can’t seem to keep chaseprice stories short! Sorry this took so long, but I hope it’s worth it. I also immediately thought chaseprice when I saw that prompt (“According to this survey, most people agree you are, in fact, a gigantic asshole.”), so thanks for being on the same page with me there :) Unbeta’d and virtually unrevised despite how long it took me to write it, so please take it with a grain of salt.

Content warnings for misogynistic insults, underage drinking and drug use, and implied attempted sexual assault. Because teens in Arcadia Bay are awful to each other.

---

Chloe hasn’t seen Rachel since the first hour of the party. She stopped even getting texts from her about twenty minutes ago. She can already feel the familiar shapes of the argument they’re going to have tomorrow morning. Chloe will accuse Rachel of ditching her and ignoring her texts. Depending on how pissed she is, she might trot out the old dead horse about being abandoned by Max and flog that for a bit while Rachel fails to keep from rolling her eyes. Then Rachel will remind her about their agreement, that they’re both free agents and maybe if Chloe acted more like a free agent and less like a cuckolded wife she wouldn’t be so pissy all the time.

It’ll go back and forth for hours with Chloe whining about her abandonment issues and Rachel claiming that Chloe’s suffocating her, and at the end of it nothing will have changed. They’ll kiss and make up like they always do, but as soon as the next Vortex Club event comes around Rachel will insist on dragging Chloe and then she’ll ditch her in a crowd of people she hates and the whole cycle will start over again.

The whole thing is fucking exhausting, and Chloe’s sick of it. 

Not as sick as Victoria Chase is, though; damn. It’s a hell of a sight: the Queen Bitch of Blackwell teetering drunkenly on ill-advised high heels - possibly only still on her feet because of the bodies of people dancing around her - and looking like she’s contemplating puking in her purse. She looks awful. 

It would be more amusing if Rachel were there to make fun of her with Chloe. It would also be more amusing if it weren’t so painfully pathetic. Chloe’s way too sober to enjoy the sordid spectacle. Being the designated driver sucks ass, especially when the literal whole point of these parties is to get wasted. 

Chloe almost jumps out of her skin when her phone suddenly - finally - buzzes in her pocket.

Rachel: U still at the party?

Chloe scowls at her phone.

Chloe: of fucking course i am

Chloe: where else would i be??

Chloe: im ur fucking dd

Rachel: o right! Srry I already caught a ride

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

Rachel: c u 2morro tho

Rachel: 2 whales date? Not 2 early tho

Rachel: this hangover’s gona be a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch

Rachel: luv u <3 <3 <3 xoxoxo

Rachel: xxx 

Rachel: ;P

Chloe buries her phone in her pocket, fuming. She can actually feel the anger rising off of her skin like steam. Obviously there’s no reason for her to continue being a designated driver if Rachel’s already fucked off with whatever Blackwell jock or cheerleader she’s decided to rail tonight. Chloe’s free to crash on the couch tonight with the rest of the drunk losers. Pass out in the bathtub maybe. There’s tons of booze in the kitchen; she should start there. Stoners are usually in the basement; they shouldn’t be hard to sniff out. Maybe if she’s lucky she’ll find the folks who’re always doing coke in some random bedroom or office and score a noseful. It’s not like she’s got classes in the morning. She can afford to live a little, as long as she’s not actually paying for it.

Chloe starts to push her way through the crowd to the kitchen.

“Watschh where yrr fffuckin goin…” slurs a messy but recognizable voice as a hand grips Chloe’s upper arm.

Jesus Christ, Victoria’s even more wasted than Chloe thought at first glance. Her hand on Chloe’s arm might be the only thing keeping her upright at the moment, which is the only reason why Chloe doesn’t immediately tear herself away. 

“Careful, Vicky; poverty might be contagious.” Chloe attempts to pry Victoria’s fingers from around her arm to no avail.

The idiot jock standing behind Victoria laughs at that, but Victoria just looks confused. And drunk. So very, very drunk.

“Ffffug you, Chhhloe,” Victoria slurs out.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Wow, you must be shitfaced. That was practically my real name!” She carefully shoves Victoria back off of her arm as the jock moves to steady Victoria by holding onto her waist.

“C’mon, babe,” he says, leaning close to her ear. He grins at Chloe and winks like he thinks she’s in on some kind of conspiracy with him, which immediately pisses Chloe off. “I’ve got it from here,” he informs her.

Victoria groans something inarticulate and tries to push the jock away, but she ends up just stumbling back into his stupidly broad chest. She really shouldn’t get so drunk and wear such high heels at the same time; clearly, it’s a dangerous combination.

“Dude, I don’t think she wants to go with you,” Chloe says as calmly as she can. She really doesn’t want to get involved. She wants to get drunk and stoned and so blitzed out of her mind that she forgets all about being pissed at Rachel. She doesn’t want to get sucked into whatever drama Victoria’s got brewing tonight. But she also really doesn’t want to watch a drunk girl get mauled by some entitled meathead, even if said drunk girl is a royal pain in her ass. 

“Nah, she’s good. Just needs some fresh air. C’mon, Tori, let’s go for a walk.”

“Don’ ffffuggin call me Tori,” Victoria growls, tugging her arm out of his too-firm grip and nearly falling right off her ridiculous and undoubtedly overpriced heels. “Iss Victoria.”

The creep ignores her and tugs on her arm again, toppling her into his body once more. “It’s cool,” he attempts to assure Chloe. “We’re friends. I’ll get her home safe.”

“She definitely doesn’t want to go with you. Let her go.”

“Dude, be cool! She’s just being a bitch. You know what Tori’s like.” He holds Victoria’s wrists to curtail her squirming.

“Fuggoff!”

Chloe cracks her knuckles loudly enough to get the jock’s attention. “I’ve got better things to do with my left hand tonight than break it on your nose, but if you don’t unhand her in the next five seconds I’ll do it anyway.”

That gives the jock pause, but he doesn’t look like he quite believes her. “You wouldn’t.”

Chloe shrugs. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Logan why his nose slants to the right? Although he’ll probably lie. Ask his ex-girlfriend; she’ll tell you the truth.”

---

As Chloe guides a stumbling and incessantly bitching Victoria through the dark toward her truck, she silently curses every decision in her life that led her to this moment. It’s actually not that different from drunk-walking Rachel home after a party, except that when Victoria keeps touching her boob it’s probably accidental. Probably.

“Where’ss Nathan?” Victoria whines, head lolling onto Chloe’s shoulder and smearing a healthy quantity of expensive makeup into her favorite Firewalk shirt. Which is fine. Not like Chloe can’t just steal another one next time they have a 2010 tour. Time travel’s a thing, right?

“I have no idea where Prescock is. Surprised he’s not doing shots out of your cleavage.”

Victoria’s trying to text, but she keeps almost dropping her phone. “Where are theese bisches?” Victoria grumbles as her manicured fingers jab and swipe at the screen of her phone with the dexterity of a toddler with two handfuls of butter. “Sposdt to be my frens…” 

Victoria’s entire focus is on her phone when it should really be on walking. Chloe tugs her upright and tries to steer her for the umpteenth time. “Can it wait til we’re in the truck at least?”

Victoria grinds to a halt and finally tears her eyes from her phone. “M’not gedding into that… that…” Victoria flails at Chloe’s truck and nearly falls over. “Deathtrap.”

“You had to get a tetanus shot to live in the dorms, right? You’ll be fine.” Chloe grips Victoria’s elbow with one hand to keep her upright and wrangles the passenger door open with the other. “Go on, get in.”

Victoria glares at Chloe foggily. “Are you khhidnappng me, Price?”

“...That’s a joke, right?”

Victoria whacks Chloe solidly in the sternum with her phone. “B’cause I’ll haf you know, my frens will put your assss in jail like that.” Victoria tries and fails to snap her fingers, then stares at them as if she cannot comprehend why they are not obeying her.

Chloe rubs at her sore sternum in annoyance. “Yeah, well, maybe your ‘frens’ should be the ones getting your drunk ass safely back to the dorms instead of abandoning you and letting random creepers paw at you. Then maybe I could get my drunk on in peace instead of wasting my weekend cleaning your puke out of my truck.”

Chloe’s expecting some pushback. Victoria hasn’t even touched her truck, much less puked in it. What she isn’t expecting is for Victoria to shove her phone in Chloe’s face. “You texx thm.” Victoria reaches for the door handle, yanks the door open, and unsteadily clambers into Chloe’s truck.

“Ow, what the fuck! You want me to text your friends?”

“Tell’m yer kidnappin me.”

“Uh, okay, no, I’m not doing that. But I can text your friends if there’s someone you’d rather get a ride with.”

Chloe carefully shuts Victoria’s door and walks around her truck to the driver’s side, thumbing through Victoria’s message history. She tries Nathan first, even though she can see that Victoria’s last ten messages to him have gone unanswered.

Victoria: hey victoria needs a safe ride back to the dorms. can you come get her?

Nathan: whothFUCKisthis

Victoria: a good samaritan. seriously tho your friend is halfway to passed out, can you help?

Nathan: fuckoffBITCH

Victoria: god why does victoria even like you?

She tries Courtney next.

Victoria: hey victoria needs a safe ride back to the dorms. can you come get her?

Courtney: I don’t know, can Victoria not call my boyfriend a MAN WHORE?

“We’re 0 for 2, Victoria. What’s the name of that blonde girl you’re always hanging around with?”

“Sweetie…”

“Um, what?”

“Goddddd you’re fuckn incomph-- incump-- incompetant. Sweet. T.”

“I have no idea what you’re-- Oh.” Jesus, the girl is literally in Victoria’s phone as Sweet-T. Gaaaaaaayyyy. 

Victoria: hey victoria needs a safe ride back to the dorms. can you come get her?

Sweet-T: Victoria? Victoria Chase?

Sweet-T: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Sweet-T: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sweet-T: Tell that bitch good luck. 

Sweet-T: Actually wait don’t.

Sweet-T: Tell her to choke.

Sweet-T: Btw Taylor lost her phone.

“Uhh, looks like ‘Sweet-T’ lost her phone. And it’s fallen into the hands of someone who completely hates your pretentious ass; no big surprise there.”

Chloe starts texting Victoria’s contacts at random as Victoria sulks. Most people don’t even respond. The responses she does get are… not encouraging.

Zach: sup biiiiiiiiiiitttcccccccchhhhhh yeah i’ll give vicky a ride ON MY DICK

Hayden: new fone who dis

Brooke: Who is this and how did you get my number? Don’t ever text me again.

Dana: I gott a ride w Jules srry

Juliet: Already back at the dorms. Good luck I guess. 

Logan: fukk that bisch wut

“Well, Victoria, looks like none of your friends are coming to help. So you can either let me give you a ride back to campus, or you can pass out on a couch inside and hope for the best.”

“What th hell djou say to them??”

“Just that you needed a safe ride to the dorms. That’s all.”

“Bullsshhhitt. You pissed them off.”

Chloe laughs out loud at that. “I pissed them off?? You pissed them off by being a gigantic asshole!”

“M’ noddan asshole.”

“Oh, no? Well…” Chloe holds up Victoria’s phone and waves it in front of her face. “According to this survey, most people agree you are, in fact, a gigantic asshole.”

Which is how Chloe ends up comforting a sobbing Victoria Chase in a stranger’s driveway and wishing she’d never been born.

---

Chloe: dude. Srsly. Fuck u for abandoning me at that fucking vc party.

Rachel: chloe?

Rachel: wat timesit?

Rachel: w happnd?

Chloe: its 3am

Chloe: and victoria FUCKING chase is passed out on me

Rachel: ur joking

Rachel: omg

Rachel: pls take a pic

Chloe: this isnt funny rach

Rachel: it’s fucking hilarious!

Chloe: its SAD.

Rachel: Wait so

Rachel: did you fuck her?

Chloe: WHAT????

Chloe: NO!!!!!

Rachel: Oh good bc I don’t think there’s enough bleach in the world to clean your soul after fucking victoria chase

Chloe: she’s drunk AF

Chloe: her friends ditched her 

Chloe: and i kinda called her an asshole

Chloe: so she cried on my shoulder until she passed out

Chloe: and now i’m trapped

Rachel: Poor baby.

Rachel: Chew your arm off?

Chloe: not funny.

Rachel: Again, totally funny.

Chloe: Srsly tho, what should i do???

Rachel: idk

Rachel: sneak out?

Chloe: we’re in my truck

Rachel: hahahahahahahaha

Rachel: of course you are

Rachel: so wake her bitch ass up!

---

Victoria Chase snores. Nothing in the world could have prepared Chloe for that knowledge. She also drools, which is unfortunate for the state of Chloe’s jacket. Not that it’s the cleanest thing in the world anyway, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.

Victoria’s normally immaculate hair is in a state of total chaotic disarray. At least half of her makeup is gone, and what remains is smeared artlessly all over her face. She smells like a brewery. Chloe’s arm has fallen asleep under the weight of her head. Chloe envies it. The sweet release of sleep would be infinitely preferable to the intense awkwardness of being conscious right now.

The moonlight paints Victoria’s face in delicate shades of pale, highlighting the refined angles of her cheekbone, her jawline, her nose. She’s snoring and drooling and messy and the most utterly awful person; it shouldn’t be possible for her to be beautiful in this moment.

And yet. And yet.

Chloe should shove her awake. She should push Victoria off her shoulder, buckle up both of their seatbelts, and deposit her safely back at the dorms (because even though Victoria’s an objectively horrible person, that doesn’t mean that Chloe is). Chloe should abandon ship, let Victoria sleep it off in the front of her truck while Chloe returns to the party and drinks until she can’t remember what Victoria looks like in the moonlight. Maybe if she drinks enough, by the time she’s sober enough to drive Victoria will have sobered up and found her own way home.

Victoria makes a sleepy sort of grumbling sound and shifts against Chloe’s shoulder, draping an arm over Chloe’s middle and snuggling close. Her hair tickles Chloe’s neck and jaw as it sticks out at peculiar angles, and Chloe wants to laugh or possibly die. There’s really nowhere else for Chloe’s arm to go, so it ends up wrapped around Victoria. Victoria lets out a sound that’s disturbingly close to a contented sigh.

“Hey... Vic?”

“Mphgmhm?”

“Um… Are you aware that you’re cuddling me like I’m your long-lost childhood teddy bear?”

“Grhmphgm.”

“Uh. ‘Kay. Long as you know.”

“Mphkm.” Victoria nuzzles into Chloe’s shoulder, squeezing her tighter. Chloe awkwardly pats her side and Victoria sighs again.

“Hey, uh… I’m sorry about what I said before. I mean, not about you being an asshole, ‘cause I’m not gonna lie. But about your friends. I’m… sure your friends do like you, really.”

Victoria shrugs a little, frowning delicately. “Dsnmttr. Sleeb.”

Sleep. Okay. That’s theoretically possible. Chloe’s slept in more uncomfortable positions in this very truck, after all. So she closes her eyes and rests her head against the back of her seat, and she listens to the steady rhythm of Victoria’s breathing until the world begins to fade into a comforting void.

Shit’s going to be awkward in the morning. But, well. That can wait until the morning.