#the last few weeks have just been. go go go. between my cousins sudden death and the funeral and work stuff and this interview

[sparrowposting]

Ya girl is the kind of dumb of ass idiot who is like, now that the big scary interview is over, is like...oh god what if I DO get the job? It's smthn I want and would be good at etc etc etc but also it would be a lot more work than my current position where I'm, lbr, fucking around out of boredom alot. I'd have REAL responsibilities! Actual challenges! Unions! Benefits! Better pay so I can move out! Way more professional development and experience opportunities but also way more areas to fuck up by being part of a bigger team and part of a significantly larger institution. Like. What if I am stupid and dumb and crack under the stress or my attention span gets bad and suddenly I'm incapable of doing the work, despite it being smthn I /want/

Ofc this is entirely hypothetical, esp bc I'm rethinking everything I said today and beating myself up about how much better I couldve answered xyz questions, the usual post interview anxiety, and I won't find out abt this job til the new year and part of me is like oh I've got it in the bag and part of me is like well ofc you fucked up and aren't gonna get it

[julieloves074]

Take me home (Conrad Fisher x Y/n)

Summary: Con picks Y/n up in the middle of the night after ignoring her for weeks and takes her to the beach house.

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, drinking, drunk driving, arguing, cancer, death, sadness

Words: 8.9K

(Not my GIF :) )

I wasn’t nervous when he called me, we had spoken since summer, for a few weeks before he completely shut me out, so I just wasn’t expecting it.

It was twelve in the morning when his name appeared on the screen.

“Connie 💓”

The pink heart signifying confusion, on the last night of summer we camped at the beach, just the two of us, he had an argument with his dad but didn’t want to leave Cousins on a bad note, none of us ever did. So he just took what he needed and set off. I wanted to follow him, but I was scared about what everyone was going to say.

So when Susannah said “Could you go to him Y/n?” I don’t want him to be alone,”. Her request was more than enough, I got suitably ready and headed to the beach. His tent was set up just in the perfect place, so that the wind would have trouble reaching it, and he was setting up a little fire.

That night we talked for hours and hours, we even kissed, but it wasn’t a quick peck, it wasn’t one of those steamy, heated make outs either, it was a perfect longing kiss, that stood for all it needed to between us. After that we just held each other and talked until we both fell asleep.

The next day we were all set to leave Cousins, we didn’t speak a word of anything that had happened the night before, still at least we weren’t ignoring each other, thankfully. Susannah gave me a bright smile and a ‘thank you’ hug when we returned. Though I think she knew that she helped me more than I’d helped her.

After that we didn’t speak for a month, I didn’t know how to start a conversation without bringing up what had happened and Con wasn’t reaching out either, so I thought maybe that was for the best until one day my phone rang at nine or ten-ish.

“Can we talk?” His voice was shaky and tired, I wanted to just nod, my mouth feeling dry like a desert but of course he wouldn’t have been able to know that.

“Yeah of course” I replied meekly, we didn’t about that night though, we talked about anything and everything just to keep the conversation going. It wasn’t hard, no matter how much we ever talked about we never ran out of things to say.

At first these calls started out a few times a week, but not after long we would be talking every night. My family knew there was something going on but I wouldn’t tell them who I was calling every night, they would go mental.

Then there came a time where he was always out or too tired to call, or literally have any other excuse, after a few days of his rejections I gave up trying to reach him. He didn’t reach out either until that night… at twelve in the morning.

I was reluctant to pick up at first, hovering my thumb over the green phone button. It was either the fourth or fifth ring when I had the guts to press the button. There was silence on the other side of the call, all I could hear was the noise of traffic- maybe it was an accidental call, for a second my heart sank.

“Hello?” I managed.

“Hi… Y/n I’m on my way to your house, I need to see you, I need to get away” I furrowed my brows, was this boy drunk?- no he wasn’t stupid enough to get behind the wheel drunk.

“What are you taking about Conrad?” I needed him to be clearer.

“I am half an hour away from your house, I need to see you, I’m keeping to that promise I made you” he said, I sat up all of a sudden I knew exactly what promise he meant, and I was angry at myself that I got so excited so quickly, it was like just after one call my heart had forgiven him. Well my head hadn’t.

“Con-“ I started but he knew what I was going to say.

“I know I’ve been a dick, I’m sorry. You can stay angry at me but can you just please. Please. Just get your stuff and meet my around the corner- ok?” I have never to this day heard his voice to have so much hurt and worry.

“Ok” I replied, simple and short. He said he’d drop me a message when he got here so I got out of bed and started to shove some clothes into my bag, with my brain still half asleep it was hard to think logically about what I needed.

I wrote my mom a note, she was going to be gone on her author tour a few more days, she would see it when she gets back, if I’m not back by that time. Steven was spending the holiday at school cramming in for some super important exam and Belly was away spending time with Taylor’s family in their mountain house.

Literally as I was checking all the doors and window were shut my phone in my pocket went off. I had changed into leggings and a hoodie, seemed more appropriate than Winnie the Pooh pyjamas.

When my hand was on the door handle I took a pause to really reconsider. What was I doing? Leaving in the middle of the night to meet the boy who has been ignoring me for weeks without telling my mother. I sounded like a fool even to myself, at least it was break in school, and I was going to turn 18 in a few months anyway so she couldn’t be too angry at me.

I hated that I could justify his actions so quickly, but my heart skipped a beat at the thought that he drove here for hours to see me, that he was waiting outside for me, no one else.

I locked the door after I had stepped out, it was much colder than I had originally anticipated, the cold December and January followed by an even colder February.

When I rounded the corner I could see him in the car, all the lights were off and he sat there looking down at his phone, I was swallowed down and took a deep breath.

He looked up as I approached and a shy smile found its way over his lips, my face couldn’t help but mirror. He stepped out of the car and took my bag placing it in the back without saying anything. When he shut the back door he turned back to face me, finally.

I bit into my lip and my heart broke into a frenzy, wasn’t this all I had ever wanted? So why was it so scary…

He opened his arms and for a second I wasn’t going to, but how could I not?

Slowly I stepped towards him, my arms wrapped around his middle, head against his chest, his heart was beating pretty fast too… or that could have been the rash beating of my own in my ears. Finally, after what felt like years his arms came to a close around me, he laid his chin on my head, then continued to lay it on my head. His finger ran gentle marathons around my back and shoulders.

He was so warm in contrast to the outdoor breeze, after a moment he pulled me even closer which I didn’t think was possible, his hold tight.

When I started to shiver he let me go.

“Right let’s get in, I brought you my blanket” he opened the passenger door, the heat from inside felt like heaven. I spilled in fast to avoid the heat escaping.

He got in as well and turned the engine on quickly so that the heating would start again.

“Ok let’s do this, let’s hit the road,” he said looking to me with a smile, more to reassure himself than me, it was so rare anyone got to see one of those anymore. I did like to pretend that when we called he was in his bed, staring at his ceiling smiling, that’s what I was doing.

The moon was shining particularly bright this night, as if was carving the way for us, I wanted to ask why he started ignoring. Whether I had said something? Or maybe he found some else? Not that we ever talked about those talks being anything more than platonic.

“How have you been?” he asked as if he didn’t crush my heart those couple weeks ago.

“I’ve been alright,” I didn’t know what else I could reply without everything I was feeling spilling out like sick after a particularly fun drinking night.

It was nice seeing him outside of his summer element, I had gone to visit Susannah and the boys a few times between summers, mostly because I wanted to get more involved in all the charity work she did. Being the amazing woman she is, she let me come to talks, ceremonies, fundraisers and even introduced me to some amazing people that could be the key to my future.

This was different though, it felt different, Conrad had a gray sweater on with black trousers, he was paler than usual, his hair was still the same though, messy like a little boy’s.

Cousins too looked different in the winter season, this is the first time I have come to this place outside of summer, there was never any need. I had always wanted to though, to see this place with snow or at least just the cold. But now that I was seeing it, all empty, it felt strange, and I couldn’t wait for summer again.

“What were you expecting? Lots of people wandering around in their winter coats?” he chuckled as he looked over at me, “This place is very seasonable, pretty much like abandoned during the winter,” he continued.

“Do you come here a lot during the colder times?” I couldn’t help but ask.

He shook his head before replying, “Not really, mom hates it, she says it ruins the spell of summer, I’d only come once, I planned on staying the week while fixing some problem that was going on in the house, but I’d managed to sort it out faster than expected and went home two days into the trip,” I nodded at his reply.

We stopped at the local 24/7 corner shop to get some groceries, we were walking on thin ice, dancing around the subject of the time of silence between us, and this trip. How long were we going to stay? Was anyone else going to be joining us? All the questions left unanswered. Conrad walked with confidence around the store picking out an array of foods, enough to last the two of us, Susannah had raised him well.

The house too was different, much colder for sure, the second we stepped in the silence was deafening, lots of stuff was stashed away for the time we didn’t spend here, all ready to be brought out in the summer when we arrive.

“If you go turn the heating on I’ll start the fire, if you could also start grabbing the groceries I’ll come and help put them away in a second,” he said settling right in, I wondered if this was what it would be like, living with Conrad if we were older, shopping together, co-existing, in a partnership. With him in mind even the mundane things like putting away the groceries seemed like a fulfilling and satisfying task.

Quickly enough the fire was started, and the house started to heat up, we made hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows in the kitchen while organising everything. He had taken a sip before stashing away the box of cereal into a top cupboard. I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

He turned around in a flash, “What are you giggling about?” he asked with a smirk, I covered my mouth with my hand, he had a thick white moustache of cream planted along the top of his lip.

“What?” he asked again reaching his hands to tickle my sides, he knew how badly ticklish I was.

“Don’t you dare,” I say with a real warning in my face.

“What are you laughing at then?” he didn’t lower his hands.

“You’ve got a moustache old man,” I stook my tongue out and began to run away, he chased after me in the kitchen, shouting how when he got to me I was done for.

“I’m only two years older than you!” he exclaimed. I was quickly getting out of breath, running through the front room, the hallway and back into the kitchen, I came to a stop in hopes of having a sip of my drink while it was still warm. Rooky mistake. That’s when he got me, I was standing backwards to him. His hands flew to my waist and he started to tickle me, I tried to get away from him.

One of his hands moved to my neck to continue tickling me and the other wrapped around my waist to stop me running away. I turned around to face him.

“That’s enough! Stop-“ I kept saying, I was laughing so much that I was physically in pain, “I take it back! I take it back! I’ll get it off for you I swear! Just stop ahh-“ he didn’t, not for another few minutes, we backed into a counter when he stopped.

I was out of breath, his grin was wide, like a proud child’s. I shook my head and lifted my hands to wipe the cream off his face, he lowered his head. His hands ended up on either side of the counter around me, caging me in. I wiped the cream into the hand towel next to me then turned back to look at him.

His stare was intense, neither of us said anything, I was scared to breath. Scared that this peace, this mutual understanding between us could shatter with a simple sound. I wish I had known what he was thinking there and then.

As if called upon my phone started to ring on the island, he quickly broke out of the spell, he ran his hand through his hair and stepped away from me. I walked towards the phone having a feeling I knew who was calling, mom would just think I was still at home, so I had to keep it together.

“I’ll- uh I’m going to put a few more pieces of wood in and extend the couch alright?”

I turned the phone around to see a friend’s number, it was only four in the morning, the ride to cousins was usually about three hours but the road was empty, so we got here faster, my mother wouldn’t even know it. I answered Ali, she was crying, her boyfriend had just walked out on her, she wanted me to come over, I ran my hand over the creases on my forehead. I explained that I was away, she ranted for about fifteen minutes before assuring me that she was going to be fine and call our other friend Robin. I bid her goodbyes and went in the front room.

The fire was harsher than before but at least it was warm, then Con came in through the front door with our bags. I went to sit on the sofa where he threw the blanket from the car alongside some others and a few pillows, I abandoned my hoodie.

“Was it your mom?” he asked leaving the bags in the hallway and coming into the front room, he sat down on the armchair and not next to me how I thought he would, I tried not to show my disappointment, instead focusing on that notion that it was not my mother who called.

“No it was my friend Ali, tough situation with her boyfriend, walked out on her. He’d been ignoring her for a few days, and she just wanted to talk it out but he didn’t have anything to say evidently,” I said, quickly apologising for rambling, Conrad probably didn’t want to hear this. He had been fiddling with his hand as I talked about it.

“He’s a dickhead, he probably doesn’t deserve her,” he said finally. The atmosphere had fallen a little I could sense it, maybe he saw himself in Ali’s boyfriend as he ignored me too, but yet here we both were.

“Aren’t you cold over there?” I tried to make my voice sound cheerful “There’s plenty of blankets over here if you want to join me?” I said lifting up some of the blankets, he looked at me and smiled with his eyes closed.

“Y/n,” he started and then closed his mouth with a sigh.

“Yes grumpy?” I asked.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he said, my head snapped to face him, my eyebrows furrowed, scare me?

“Conrad I’m not scared of you, where did you get that idea?” I didn’t know whether to chuckle at him or be concerned, I’d known him my whole life.

“Not of me, but of this,” he motioned between the two of us, “This thing that we’re doing? I don’t want to overwhelm you” he made it clearer. I wanted to argue him say that we weren’t doing anything, remind him that he’d been ignoring me these last few weeks, but I couldn’t. Something wouldn’t let me.

I lifted the blanket which I was cuddled under, the one from the car, it was his from home in Boston maybe he even took it to collage with him, it smelled like him, “Con, I’m almost eighteen and-“ I had to take a pause before I continued, “And if I didn’t want this to happen why would I be here right now?” my eyebrows lifted when I asked.

He didn’t answer, he just nodded and came to sit next to me, still a little apprehensive, “I don’t bite” I laughed and moved closer towards him laying my head on his shoulder. I was looking at the fire but I could feel his eyes on me, when I snuggled in he put his arm around me and sighed. We sat like that for a while, he kissed the top of my head and I looked up to him.

His eyes travelled between my eyes and my lips, and I found that mine were doing the same thing. He started running his fingers on my back, drawing an array of wonderous shapes and patterns.

“Are you sure you want this?” He whispered as his face got closer to mine. I swallowed down, his stare so intense that I was sure I could get lost in his eyes, the only thing I could do was nod and lean in. The kiss was gentle, as if his lips were barley on mine, the fire crackling in the background.

He pulled away just a little, to check I was ok, when he saw the smile playing on my lips his moved his hands to my cheeks and kissed me again, still gently. And again. I moved my hands to the back of his neck, my body shifting for both our comforts. His hands travelled to my shoulders, caressing them, the way his fingers ran along my arms was enough to make me shiver.

He was so gentle, it was all so amazing, too amazing to be true. “I want this to be perfect for you,” he whispered laying his forehead on mine, “Is this all okay? Tell me if you want me to stop,” he reassured me. And another smile spread over my face, like I couldn’t help it.

“You’re amazing Conrad,” I said and then kissed him, this time it was harder, hungrier. He was still gentle and respectful but there was a need behind it. My hands went to his hair and his to my neck, like he needed me to live, like keeping me close to him was the only way he could stay alive. The fire slowly dying out without the supply of new wood.

I’m not sure how long we spent entangled in each other but at some point we ended up lying down next to each other on the extended couch, there were eight bedrooms in this house and yet everyone was always most thankful for the convertible couch. We were comfortably close, taking up less than half the space. His arms were around him, my back to him, his breath tickled against the back of my neck, every few minutes he leaned forwards and kissed my neck, and a little down my back.

This was nice. Just us here at the summer house. I guess to me it didn’t really matter where were just that we were there together. Right now in this gentle state, everything felt so fragile but it also felt like nothing could ruin what was happening.

~@.---<🌙>---.@~

His breathing was slow in the morning, my head was on his chest as I woke up, his arms still around me, legs tangled together under the blankets. I took a deep breath; I would have cried if this turned out to be a dream. For a few minutes while I laid there, at first admiring him, then looking around the house, I was scared it wasn’t really happening. That I was going to wake up any minute and find out this was all just a horrible dream.

“Good morning,” A groggy morning voice whispered next to me, he smiled when he looked at me, he sat up leaning on his one arm to I assume have a better view. He rubbed his eyes before leaning down and kissing me right on the lips, softly and sweetly.

“Morning,” I replied back when he pulled away a little, our noses still touching, he smiled and kissed me again, and again, and again.

“I was thinking scrambled eggs for breakfast?” he asked, I nodded, “Ok great, I’ll get on it,” he goes ready to sit up. It was an instinct, a natural movement. I grabbed his arm and pulled him towards me.

“Shall we say in 10?” I asked turning to snuggle into him, I listened to his heartbeat, in comparison to mine his was like calm waves after a stormy night, like a still pool, he was peace.

After he got up to make the said breakfast I started cleaning up the front room, I pushed the couch back together, we ate together at the table watching the cold waves and the fog outside the glass sliding doors. We talked and laughed. That day was spent playing cards, reading, watching some show on Netflix under blankets, not that I was paying attention much. We took this day to ourselves, to just be together. That night we cooked dinner together, we had some music and when the food was in the oven Con started dancing around.

“Will you do me the honour?” he ask bowing in front of me.

“Stupid idiot,” I said rolling my eyes at him, but inside my stomach was doing little flips.

“You know you want to,” he grabbed my hand and twirled me, the chorus of the song came on and we danced around the kitchen, the main lights were turned off, we only left on the fairy lights. Susannah taught us this dance, then she’d turn the song on at least once a day because she loved to see us dance. That night we slept on the couch again.

The next day we went out, drove to town, it was still great even though pretty much everything was closed, it was a rainy, windy day. Con held my hand as we strolled through the streets. There was a man with a really cute puppy walking by and he’d had asked if we wanted to pet her because I was staring at her, he told us her name was Lola, I couldn’t refuse. Instead of petting the dog with me Con pulled out his phone and captured a photo of me but refused to show me. The day was perfect, I could really see this being the rest of my life, we could even live here in Cousins.

It wasn’t until the next day that everything started to crumble. We woke up entangled in bed, he kissed me on the lips and went to make himself a coffee and me a tea. I cleaned up the couch and made my way to join him on the couch we moved into the kitchen. Around mid-day of the first proper day we pushed the kitchen table back and moved one of the couches from the second sitting room in there so that we could cuddle up while still enjoying the view.

He passed me my drink when I sat down in my pyjamas and messy hair.

“I love it like this,” I said, “Could you imagine this in the future?” The words slipped out, suddenly I was nervously awaiting his answer. After he didn’t say anything for a moment I brushed some hair behind my ear and turned to face him immediately regretting my question, “Sorry I didn’t mean to imply-” I started and thankfully my phone ringing cut my off because I was about to start rambling.

I took the phone out my pocket, the stress passed when I realised it wasn’t my mother, I wasn’t quite ready to confront her yet, it was Jeremiah. I furrowed my brows but got up quickly, answering.

“Hey what’s up?” I asked, not saying the name of the person in case Con wanted to take the phone off me.

“Have you been in contact with Con? He’s been kind of MIA recently these last couple of days, vaguely answering questions, constantly busy and Aubrey is getting worried,” When her name came out of his mouth I stopped, walking out of the kitchen, Conrad gave me questioning look but I just brushed him off.

“I thought those two broke up a little before last summer?” I asked sitting down on the stairs.

“Yeah they did, but when the news of mom having cancer again came out she reached out, she really liked our mom and then they started talking a bit more again. I don’t really know what’s going on between them but it’s my phone she’s blowing up when he’s not answering… Uh so yeah anyway, have you heard from him?”

“Uh, no, not recently, sorry,” I paused taking a deep breath, “Let me know when you get hold of him, I hope he’s okay,” I said, he agreed and ended the call. I took a minute to compose myself, take a deep breath before going back into the kitchen.

Con was still sat on the couch, he turned around as if I didn’t say what I had before the phone rang, was that why he couldn’t answer my question before? Because he had Aubrey waiting at home for him?

“Who was it?” he asked, arm on the header of the couch as he looked around at me. I tried to piece it all together, I was overreacting I was sure of it. I didn’t want to make this about me, Susannah was sick, she was the most important here, the happiness I have felt over these last few days was making me feel sick now. Aubrey was a safe space to him, they were together while his mom was well, I was the complete opposite, so was this house. He pretty much only ever saw me with him mom around. Only saw this house with his mom around.

I leaned one hand on the counter, the other ran across my forehead, “Why did you bring me here?” I asked, I tried hard to make my voice sound normal, it must have worked to some extent as he just look at me confused.

“What do you mean?” he laughed, “You said you always wanted to see Cousins in the winter,”

“Con you have been ignoring me for weeks, making up every excuse to not speak with me, and then we rock up here and you’re all loving and cuddly. None of your family know you’re here, why?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked more harshly this time, like I was picking at a particularly painful scab.

“It was Jere, wondering whether I had heard from you,” I could hear the pinch of sadness in my own voice.

He sighed, “If I had told him that I was coming here with you he’d only make a fuss about coming too, and I wanted this to be just us,” he confessed.

“Aubrey’s worried about you,” I said, this time I was emotionless.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” He stood up too.

“I’m not saying it is, even if it was there would be nothing wrong with it- it’s not like we said there was something going on. I know that she was in your life when your mom was healthy, Aubrey is like closure, I understand, she cares for Susannah too,” I explained.

“There has been nothing going on between us since we broke up before the summer, she just cares for my mom, they spent a lot of time with each other when we were together, Aubrey has been looking for closure with my mom not me,” he explained.

“Ok, I understand, I just wish you’d have talked to me about all of this instead of ignoring me,” I said and tried to put on my best smile.

“Ok I shouldn’t have ignored you when will you stop using that against me?”

“I’m not using it against you Con, but you seem to always have the best excuse for everything, I can’t do this,” I gestured to the air between us, “I can’t do this ‘in-the-middle’ ‘half hearted’ thing where you decide one minute we’re on and the next we’re not,”

“Why are you ruining this?” he sounded accusatory all of a sudden.

“I’m not trying to ruin anything, but when I asked about the future you couldn’t even say a word to me Conrad, be honest with me- what are we doing here?”

“You’re such a child,” he breathed rolling his eyes.

“Ow and you’re such an adult? I’m sorry that two years makes such a difference between us,”

“Don’t be a dickhead, do you know what talking about the future means? It means talking about a time where my mom won’t be here anymore,” I swear I saw the life drain from his face, his whole body when he said that sentence. I wanted to say ‘Don’t say that, that’s not true’ but I couldn’t get the words out my mouth, I knew the reality of it.

“It was a mistake coming here, bringing you here,” he said grabbing a jumper off of one of the kitchen chairs.

“Was being with me a mistake?” I asked, knowing that’s what he was insinuating , but I needed to hear him say it, to break my heart one last time so I could move on, block him out.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I was never with you.” He said.

“So what were these last few days?” I let out a breathy laugh mixed with a sigh, I was getting really tired of this back and forth.

“Exactly what you wanted right?” his voice was raised a little.

“Was this not what you wanted?” Was all of this, all he had done all fake. For what? To dangle a carrot on a stick in front of me. He didn’t reply.

“Ok,” I said calmly.

“Ok? Is that all you have to say to me?” he asked, reaching for his keys.

“Conrad, if this isn’t what you want, something you never wanted I’m not going to fight for it because that’s not fair on either of us, I’m not some whining kid who throws a tantrum when they don’t get what they want, like you seem to think I am,”

“This was a mistake,” he repeated, looking right into my eyes, disgust filling his.

“Ok! You’ve already said, I heard you say it once, you don’t need to repeat it, make me feel even more shit about myself and these last few days,” I was feeling physically sick.

“It’s over, it was never anything but you seemed to have a different idea in your head, so I’ll say it once and for all. This is over, there was nothing here,” and that was it. He had rushed out the door, I didn’t know where he was going, in the moment I hoped it was as far away from me as possible, not because I didn’t want him with me, but because I was scared we were going to explode each other. And that was much, much worse.

Still the tears prickled in my eyes, I was glad he had left but the other part of me couldn’t believe he’d leave me here all by myself. I took a deep breath and waited by the front door, hoping that maybe, maybe he wouldn’t turn the car engine on and come back inside. That shattered when I heard the engine rev outside. Then I saw the lights from the back of his car pull out from the driveway. He was gone.

I turned around to the empty house, leaned myself against the door a tried taking deep breaths but they came out rash and uncontrolled. As tears started to flood my eyes I let myself slide down the door to the floor.

I reached for the phone in my pocket and dialled the only number I knew I always could. There was two rings before I heard the voice on the other side of the phone.

“Mom-“ I said in tears, in moments she sounded more alert and worried.

“Y/n honey, what’s going on? Breathe, talk to me,”

“Mom I’m in Cousins,” I paused after I said this, pushing my hand into my hair, I was waiting for her reaction, for her to explode, to scream at me. But that didn’t come.

“I know sweetie, with Conrad, now- are you hurt? Is Connie ok? I need you to tell me why you’re crying,” she sounded caring but assertive at the same time, she could never just be one or the other.

“How did you know?” I asked in a state of surprise and shock.

“Con and I do talk you know, he was always my special boy and I was always his Laur,” she started and it made a smile want to creep up onto my face but I couldn’t let it, “He had told me how you wanted to see Cousins in winter, how he wanted to take you, he asked for weeks and weeks in the build up to winter,” she said, I could hear the smile in her voice. He had asked my mother to take me here, he wanted to make sure I didn’t get in trouble, he had truly thought of everything to make this time perfect.

“Y/n- now can you please tell me why you’re crying?” this time she sounded serious, I swallowed down and took a deep breath while trying to dry some of the tears out of my eyes.

“He’s gone…” I said and before I could continue she was screaming fifty million different questions down the phone, “Mom! Can you just let me speak- please!” I exclaimed, she stopped, “We- we argued and he, he just got his keys and left, took the car and left,” she mumbled something under her breath but I didn’t press her on it.

Laurel offered to drive down but I couldn’t stop her press tour, her new book which she co-wrote with Castillo was fantastic and she deserved to celebrate it, I was a big girl now. She let me cry to her for a while until I calmed down, she had to leave for one of her talks and I had reassured her that I was going to be fine. At the end of the call she did make a comment about me leaving home without telling her, that if it happened again I’d be grounded for life, I laughed at her comment even though she was half serious.

I started cleaning up around the house, folding the blankets, setting the pillows neatly. I tided up the kitchen and did a round of washing, anything to distract me from my thoughts. I was quickly done, Conrad and I both being clean people we didn’t leave much of a mess. So I quickly found myself sitting on the couch watching some on TV, show after shoe for hours. I put on one of Con’s hoodies, watching those hours go by, I think it must have been half past eleven when I had dozed off to sleep.

I woke up at a little past one, checking my phone to see if he’d text or called. Nothing. Only my mother asking for an update. I left her on opened while I tried to call Con, three time but none of the times did he answer. I hoped he would read my messages instead:

Con, just come home.

Please.

I’m worried.

When I didn’t get a reply within a few minutes I text mom back and then put on another film. I tried so hard to stay awake, but it was impossible, the stress was eating me from inside out. I had to let my body sleep before it gave up on me.

A ring woke me up, I rubbed my eyes with the sleeves of Con’s hoodie expecting it to be my mother calling me after another one of her book parties, but it wasn’t her name on the screen. It was Conrad’s. I answered quickly.

“Y/n..?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Con- Conrad where are you? What are you doing?” I asked, I wanted to scream at him for not answering my texts, or even just my calls, for not letting me know he was okay.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant to be like this, this week it was meant to be perfect, just us. Just us at the beach house,” his words were slurred.

“Have you been drinking?” this woke me up real quick, I was perfectly awake now, getting on my feet walking around the front room, biting my nails before our exchanged.

“I may have had a little to drink,” he answered coyly.

“You’re drunk,” I confronted him.

“I had a little to drink, I’m sorry,” he said again, “I shouldn’t have left but I’m coming back now,” I stopped. Dead in my tracks.

“Tell me you are in a taxi or that someone else is driving that vehicle,” I hadn’t even clocked onto the notion that he was in a car.

“Y/n I can drive perfectly well, I’m fine,” He didn’t sound fine. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak it was as if my feet with glued to the floor. As if there was loud drums right next to my ears ringing. I had thought in my heart that this boy would never be stupid enough to drink and drive.

Tears started to fall down my face, “Stop the car, pull over Conrad,” I commanded, there was no more ‘Con’ or ‘Connie’ this time he’d fucked up.

“I can’t, I’m fine I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he tried to reassure me, my voice was raised when I spoke again, “Conrad I said pull the fucking car over- now, do you know what could happen to you-” then the worst, horrific images of what could happen to him pulled up in my head.

I was now crying, he was trying to make me calm down but I wasn’t having it, “Conrad you’re scaring me, please, please, please stop. Just stop. I’m scared. Please stop,” I felt like a child. Lost, searching for their parent at a carnival crawling with people. Helpless. Still I could hear the vehicle drive forwards.

“Conrad- if you love me, even a little you will stop that car,”

“Y/n-“

“Conrad stop the fucking car, if something happens to you I swear to god- I- I-“ I didn’t know what I’d do, I would blame it on myself. I was sitting on the floor now, arms wrapped around my knees.

“Ok- ok, I’m pulling over,” he said, it wasn’t long before I heard him switch off the car, my breathing slowed and suddenly the world was becoming quiet again.

“Where are you Conrad?” I asked. He told me exactly where he was, it really wasn’t far, a twenty, twenty-five minute walk. I wrapped up in some layers and told him not to move. It was dark outside but thankfully there were plenty of lampposts and I knew the way down this area like the back of my hand.

After a while I could see the car in front of me, there he was, sat in the front head on the wheel, thankfully my heart had slowed down. He was ok. I walked to over and opened his door, automatically the lights in the car had turned on.

He turned to look at me but couldn’t, focusing on the ground instead, “Y/n listen-” he started reaching out to grab my hand but I pulled away, “Don’t start- just don’t” I said, I could have been crying tears of happiness but the anger that overtook me was too real.

“What an earth were you thinking?” I tried to scream but my voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, my voice cracked halfway through.

“I’m sorry I left, I always fuck everything up, I never show up when I should,” he couldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Come on, get up I’m going to drive,” I reached from his arm trying to pull him out of the driver’s seat.

“Y/n… take me home,” he murmured as I wrapped my arms around him to drag him out, I backed away a little to look at his face, he still stared at the ground.

“Conrad I can’t drive to Boston right now, I’m exhausted, and still on an emotional high, and we can’t leave the house a mess,” I started listing all the excuses I could. Partly all the reasons were true, but on the other hand that would mean whatever happened here would be over, and there was this fear in my chest that we would be right back to ignoring each other.

“No- where are you going?” he asked.

I shook my head in confusion, “I’m going back to the beach house where else would I be going in the middle of the night?” I asked.

That’s when he looked at me, his eyes were clearer than ever, it was like his whole soul was bring ripped out of his body.

“That’s where I want to go,” he said. I paused. Did he intend to say that wherever I was going was home for him? Or did he simply mean the beach house was his home, that was true too.

“Yes, that’s where I’ll take you, but you have to get out of the driver’s seat Conrad,” I repeated.

“I don’t like it when you call me that, it makes me think you’re angry at me,” he whispered, I am angry at you dickhead! I said in my head.

“Ok, come on Connie, I’m cold, let me help you,” I said and finally he complied. He started to get up, this time willingly making it easier for me to help him. After getting him into the passenger seat I ran over to the driver’s seat and turned the engine on.

The drive home was silent, apart from the few ‘I’m sorry’ from Conrad, I didn’t reply, he probably couldn’t hear me behind his hazy state anyway.

I helped him out the car and onto the couch, he just sat there, head in his arms. I stood in the doorway messaging my mom, and Belly who mom must have called because I had about a million messages from her asking if I was ok, what was happening. I missed out the whole drunk driving part, just letting them know he was home safe.

After that I made my way to the couch, leaning my head and body against the back of the couch. Con started to lift off of the couch, for a second I thought he was going to throw up so I went to stand up too, he’d probably need to be guided to the bathroom but he laid his hands on my knees and kneeled in front of me.

“I’m sorry Y/n, don’t be angry at me, or do be angry at me I deserve it,” he sat down in front of me, resting his head on my knees. Lifting one hand to move one of mine into his hair, like muscle memory I started to brush through the tangles, easily brushing them out.

“I’m the kid, I’m the one who behaves childish, you just… you just remind me of her, your smile makes me think of her smile, and then I feel guilty for feeling happy when I’m with you while she’s in Boston in her bed dying,” he had tears in his eyes now too.

“I love her too Conrad, and I know this must be much, much worse for you because she’s your mom, but she’s like a mom to me too and I also love her more than I can express, no one will ever tell your that you’re not allowed to grieve what has been and what is going to happen. I am here for you, to get through this together, because it’s horrific and there isn’t a day where I don’t think about what more I could have done, screw that- there isn’t an hour where I don’t think about one of the times I decided to go and party instead of staying in a watching a movie with her, or baking treats or even just talking like she wanted. I am hurting too, and I really, really can’t deal with this back and forwards Con, and if I can’t do it, then how can you?” I was fully sobbing now.

“I’m sorry, I want to fix this, I need you,” he said.

“Conrad you can’t hurt me like this again do you understand? If this happens again I will walk out and not come back. You cannot ever get behind the wheel after drinking, if we lose her, and then I lose you I don’t know what I’d do, I couldn’t live, what about Jere. do you understand?” I repeated.

All the cards had been laid out on the table, we were both broken.

“I won’t, I’ll never hurt you again. I love you Y/n”

“Come here,” I whispered, I couldn’t say those three words to him, not like this, not in this moment, maybe I could one day but the future seemed hazier now than ever, all I wanted to do was get to tomorrow, or well later. He stood up and sat next to me on the sofa, we held each other and just cried, grieving what would never be, for Susannah.

I didn’t wake up until about half past eleven. Conrad wasn’t there when I opened my eyes but the car keys were still in the middle of the table. I heard his voice from the kitchen. I tip toed towards his voice.

“Hey mom,” his voice in a questioning manner.

“Yes sweetie?” It was Susannah, her voice loud and clear over the speaker, it was hard to image her laying sickly in her bed when she sounded perfectly normal, cheerful and self-assured.

“I think I really fucked up this time,” he whispered into the microphone, I knew I shouldn’t be listening in but I couldn’t help it.

“Connie, my dear boy, I may not make it to this day but I know, in the bottom of my heart that you will see Y/n walk down the isle in her beautiful white dress, you will have the best view because you will be the one stood there at the front. You’ll have tears in your eyes, which you’ll claim are allergies, but it will just be your heart fluttering. You will look at her and smile, you will be happy. You cannot, I repeat you cannot waste away your life in misery ok baby? Look at me I’m still here living every day as if were the best day of my life, I’ve done that my whole life and looking back at it, my life has been full of love, hope, excitement it has been fulfilling. If I have one wish for you, it’s that you look after her and be happy, she will look after you ok?” there was a silence, I rubbed the tears from my eyes.

“I promise mom, thank you, you always know the right thing to say,” she laughed on the other side of the phone.

“But I do want to live to the day you ask her to be your girlfriend, then you can come visit me,” she laughed, her laugh was one of the most beautiful I have ever heard.

“I love you mom,”

“I love you too Connie, please be happy,” she emphasised again.

I waited a few minutes before walking into the kitchen, he turned around from the Couch to face me, there was a smile planted on his face, “Hi” he said.

“Morning,” I smiled back.

“So here’s what I was thinking, tea and coffee obviously, then some breakfast and or well lunch and then we take a walk down to the pier? Play some arcade games and go out for dinner?” he was being so genuine.

“Yeah sounds good, I dibs on not washing up afterwards though,” I said walking over to the coffee machine to turn it on.

“I think we need to implement some rules here if this is going to work, the chef doesn’t clean, so when I cook you clean, if you cook I clean, deal?” He said making his way over.

I shook my head containing a smile, “You’ve got yourself a deal,”,

“Great,” he replied and gave me a quick peck, he went to pull away but I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in, the kiss conveyed a million unsaid things, things that needed to be communicated but couldn’t be said.

He turned to make breakfast while I made us the drinks, while I was fetching the cups I suggested, “Hey maybe we should cut the trip a day or two short and I could come see Susannah?”

“Yeah that’d be great, she’d loved to see you,”

“Great,” I kissed him on the cheek and put the coffee on the counter next to him.

And so we did like he had suggested, we let yesterday’s past stay in the yesterday or well this morning. After we got back after dinner we sat outside, he set up a little fire and we toasted marshmallows, Susannah’s favourite. That’s when he me asked.

“I know it’s been a bumpy road, and there are many twists and turns yet to come but no matter what happens I want you to be next to me, I want to be next to you, so, will you be my girlfriend?”.

My heart fluttered, but I couldn’t help make a small joke, “I thought this was a mistake, sorry” I laughed as I said it, he pushed his lips together, trying to hold in his laugh, he closed his eyes and leaned back on his chair.

“Never letting that go huh?”

“Nope,” I laughed putting my marshmallow  in my mouth, he watched with a grin as I ate, when I finished I said yes. How could not have?

The next five days were stolen from heaven, we spent two more days at the beach house, the last morning mostly cleaning, together, then we travelled to Boston, his hand was either on my leg or holding my hand the entire journey. We hadn’t told Susannah we were coming, she cried when she saw us. The next three days we spent together, Con and I, Susannah and Jere. Laughing, playing games, talking.

When Susannah passed a little later into the year I went to stay in Boston with the boys for two weeks, coming back to finish off some of my exams, then I was moving in with the Fisher boys. It was hard at first, not living with my mom and siblings, being alive without Susannah here, knowing that nothing was going to get between our little family, ever. We were content, but one day we’d be happy again, I knew it at the bottom of my heart, just like Susannah did. For now all that mattered was that we were all together, that summer we spent together in Cousins. And all the summers after that too. It’s where a couple of years later we got engaged and then married. We were all happy, and now every time we thought of Susannah we didn’t cry, we smiled and thanked her for all she had done, she wanted us to be happy and we were doing our best to make it happen. It was true, we were all happy.

Mastelist

[afaimscorner]

When Anne Rice died two years ago, I was more than a little shaken to put it mildly. Not only because my favorite author just died and we would never get any more books by her, not only because I survived my teenage years and twenties because of her works and words, but also because in hindsight I saw the writing on the wall. My grandmother had also died the same year, only a few weeks before Lady Anne and that didn't help either. Thanks to the Pandemic I had not been able to see her very often in the last years before her death. She had been sick for a long time, and many times we got to hear that we should not come to visit because we wouldn't want to see her "like this". But in-between there were times, when she was fine, but we were in Lockdown, so there was time, that was robbed from us by the circumstances. So yes, that news flabbergasted me ,and my first thought was: "But what about Christopher? Poor Christopher." I knew mother and son had been very close, not only did they start writing novels together, but they also had their great Twitter-Back-and-Forth, which I always thought would have made a nice book of its own. My brother, who never had the connection to either of them that I had and who never read a single book from either of them said it too: "Poor Christopher, they were so close." Again, I think we saw the writing on the wall. I did see it, I feared it. It was irrational of course. The breast cancer had been mild and had been gone for years now. She was healthy. That didn't mean it was not a hit close to home, though, because it was - but there was so much going on in that year, the pandemic was still going strong, Lockdowns were happening again, I mourned, got depressed maybe, but with the end of winter I put my fear behind me. I always get slightly panicked in the dark time of the year, it's instinct maybe. I do not fear the dark, I fear things that might happen in the dark und what the Dark stands for.

Poor Christopher. My heart was always with him. He dealt somehow. I wish I knew how. Especially now.

Death is always sudden. Even if you see it coming, it is sudden. You expect the pain and the slow dying to go on forever. When me aunt died of ALS that is certainly what it was like. She went quickly in the end, but before the end there was a long time of decay. My cousins were distraught of course, but they had time to prepare at least, they knew it was coming to an end in a number of years/months, eventually weeks. When my grandfather died, it was sudden and not sudden. He spend some time in hospital, then went home to die. That was hard, especially for my Gran, but still, we all had time to consider the possibilty of him dying. My other grandfather though, he just died lying in the sun at Easter, waiting for us to come by, I think (there is a story behind that, I am not willing to go into now). That was a big shock. Still, you kind of fear and expect your grandparents to leave you. You certainly think they will be the ones to go first.

2023 was a hard year, and I kept thinking: "God, please, don't take my Gran now, not now, I could not take losing her now." But she is healthy, her father, my great grand-father, made it into his early hundreds. And the thing with fear is: You always fear the wrong things in the end.

But how could I have known?

When Death comes, she comes unexpected like I said. It was an actual rare good day. I was still in rush from Comic Con, which had its ups and downs, but where I actual won (I never win anything) a free cinema ticket, that actually worked. I got to see the movie version of book I love for free with free popcorn, and for a change I actually saw a good adaption again, which made me strangely happy considering what I was watching (it was "A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes", in case you are wondering). Since I have quite a way to the next cinema and it's a long movie, I had chosen an afternoon screening. Around half past seven, when the credits rolled, I looked at my phone.

We had just spoken before I left for the cinema, she was watching "Voice of Germany" on Joyn and was waiting to get a call to go and pick up her car. It's a ten minute walk to the service station. My first thought was that someone had run her over. I stayed put, watched the end of the credits, got up and got to the toilet. Left the cinema. Then outside, I called my brother.

Then I had to get home somehow. It was simple: We can't have two family members in hospital at the same time, pull yourself together girl, you can lose it at home. You still have to find out what is actually going on.

It was like a nightmare. I haven't managed to wake up yet.

She spend three days in the ICU. The unfair part about it is: They had saved her, her heart was beating again, it actually looked good the first two days after the incident. Yes, sure, they were telling us, it could go either way, but no one was expecting her to die. Not after everything that went down to save her life. Also: How could she die? It was unthinkable. She had been alive and well just a few days ago, bad been joking and laughing and living. She fucking just got a new knee in summer. She was only 71 and had no prior history of heart related health problems.

When I stepped in the ICU on the third day and saw the dialysis machine, I knew. I did not want to believe it though. The Doctor did not know what to say. The staff knew though, they knew it was over and not everyone was good at hiding it.

I never signed up for having to call my 95 year old Gran in the evening to ask her if she wanted to see her dead daughters body before it was taken to the morgue on a Saturday Morning. She had hoped to be able to visit her on Saturday before it would end. But it was not to be, it ended sooner than anyone would have thought.

I have to shoulder it all now - have to the laundry, cook, clean maybe, organize everything around the funeral, help my father doing all the legal stuff, oh and, yes, take on Christmas, because she ordered all those gifts right before ... so, we owe it to her to not just cancel Christmas. I wrote a whole damn fucking Fanfiction about the fact that you should never just cancel Christmas, no matter what.

I haven't even had time to mourn. I have to be there for my Gran, my father, the rest of the family, the old friends, the neighboors, the aquantances ... I can't break down before the funeral, and ten days or actually nine days after is Christmas, so I can't break down afterwards either.

I don't know how to continue. I don't want to without her. I fear everyone is expecting me to be functioning like normal by January. When I don't even know if I can ever function normal again.

My brother is swimming in the River in Egypt and my father is ... I have no idea where in his head. I get panic-y when someone is out and not immeadtly reachable. It's like my worst irrational fear came true and now no fear I have (and believe me I have enough fears for the whole human race) is irrational anymore.

Poor Christopher, I thought two years ago in December, he must be so broken. Now I am the broken one, pretending to be whole because I have to. Because when I let my parts fall, they can never fit together again.

I am not sure I can write anymore (Fiction, the rest is fine, you are reading it right now). I haven't had time to try it yet, and I think not being able to write anymore might be the last straw for me. Maybe it would help me, maybe it would heal me, I don't know, but I am afraid to try and too tired all the time.

Winter has come. Literally. Shipping snow is helping even less then having to wash her clothes. The world might be ending around me, I am not even noticing.

The dogs might have started to understand that she is not coming back. That is the worst part. Seeing that wondering look in my dogs eyes. That and knowing that Christmas Eve will be the one month anniversary of her passing. How can that be? It can't be real, it was never supposed to be her. It can't be.

My mother can't just be ... gone.

[le-amewzing]

Unsightly

Revisited an old detail from "Token" to add more to one of my fav fic universes. -w- *Note: This is set in my "20 Winks" universe and occurs during the gap between the oneshots "Minor Details" and "What's Yours Is Mine, What's Mine Is Yours," but this can be enjoyed on its own~ I just highly rec reading the previously published stories first for major feels and Parknight fun. B3

Fic: "Unsightly" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: lightlyestablished!Jess Knight/Alden Parker

Rating: T

Words: ~3,120

Additional info: romance, hurt/comfort, 3rd person POV

Summary: Parker's not fond of his personal canvas, but Knight shows him some art appreciation anyway.

      "Never thought I'd get the chance to wear this thing," Knight remarked with a twirl as she stepped onto the curb. As if the click of her heels weren't reminder enough, the full skirt of her burgundy dress was plenty of evidence of tonight's special occasion. When the soft fabric settled against her knees, Knight glanced up and caught that amused little smirk of Parker's.

      "Hard to imagine the ever-prepared Jess Knight doesn't have an outfit for every occasion," Parker quipped. He fell into step beside her as they passed by the other small stores that dotted the shopping strip on their way towards their destination.

      But Knight shook her head, gently, so as not to mess with the smooth way she'd pinned her hair back. "Nah. My closet's full of steamed pantsuits, worn jeans, loved tees, comfy blouses, and cozy sweaters. I can probably count the special-occasion dresses on one…maybe two hands?"

      He did that scoff-chuckle of his, but it was heartier than usual, so his shoulder bumped hers as they walked. "What about that dress for your cousin's wedding? You looked lovely in that."

      Knight smiled. In the end, she'd been glad for her cousin mailing her that heap of photos, because there'd been some nice shots of just Knight in her dress, which she'd shown Parker the week before last, not long after he'd returned from his medical leave. She shrugged. "Ah, that? I had to borrow that." Knight averted her eyes. "Same as tonight's, actually."

      Parker glanced at her, eyebrows raised. But his dark eyes roved over her before he looked away. "A shame you'll have to return it," he commented.

      Knight blinked, pleased with the sudden attention. Truth be told…she'd been half lying. Tonight's dress was one she'd borrowed from her sister years ago, and her sister had long since given up asking for it back, so it might as well be Knight's, right? And it looked nice on her—and it was perfect for going dancing—and it made Parker's eyes linger—

      Knight only managed to stop her train of thought from charging full speed ahead when they arrived at the dance studio Parker had mentioned and he held the door open for her. "Well, I think we're right on time for dance lesson numero uno, Jess…" He got his words out, but he winced, and his grip on the door's handle turned steely, judging by his blanched knuckles.

      The sudden change in his countenance was cold water on tonight's excitement. Knight was only a step behind him, but she rushed to him, placing a hand on his chest and studying his neck and his face. She could see the vein in his neck pulsing, it was that strong. On top of that, little beads of sweat started to form. "Alden, holy crap, you—"

      "I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. But he started to lean forward, making to rest his head against the door for support. "Just—I need a sec."

      Knight frowned, her brow furrowed. "…Alden, tell me the truth. You're not chained to your desk anymore. You were cleared to be back in the field. But what else have your doctors said?"

      Parker took a few shaky, steadying breaths. With Knight's help—one hand on his back and one on his chest—he straightened up. Parker also relinquished his death grip of the door and let the door close, even. But he reached up and loosened the knot of his tie, too.

      Her frown deepened. She didn't take offense at the action, but she couldn't help but be sad to see her new gift coming undone already, a replacement for the tie Parker had used as a wrap for Knight's injured ankle over a month and a half ago when they were trapped in a collapsed parking garage, courtesy of the Raven's followers.

      Parker hooked a finger under her chin so their eyes met, and he mustered a small smile for her. "I'll get a chance to look dashing for you another night, Jess, suit and tie and all," he promised.

      She did her best to return that smile. How could she not, when he so easily read her mind? But Knight wasn't easily wooed or distracted, and she noted that he hadn't answered her question. She held her hand out. "Keys."

      A pinch formed between his eyebrows.

      "I'm not letting you drive home. I'll take you home, and you can tell me on the way or when we get there what the doctors told you."

      At that, Parker pursed his lips and grumped. But he didn't argue, and he settled down when Knight tucked her arm into his and they took their time strolling back to his car parked in the small lot across the street.

      The fresh air helped a little, and the sweat mostly had dried from his face when Parker got into the passenger seat. Knight kept an eye on him as best she could, but she had the road taking most of her focus for the next twenty minutes.

      It didn't help that, despite all the strides they'd made, how much closer they were now, Parker chose right now of all times to revert to one of his quiet moments. How infuriating!

      Knight huffed slightly, to herself, and poured on the speed. Fine. She wasn't going to play Twenty Questions with him again; they'd done that once before—only because things were dire, and Knight didn't want to relive the parking garage. But she wasn't going to twiddle her thumbs or beat around the bush anymore.

      She'd done her share of waiting. Hell, so had he, waiting for the two of them to get to this point! Enough was enough.

      Surprisingly, even faced with traffic and without the aid of the radio for filler, those twenty minutes between the dance studio and Parker's apartment flew by. Knight was able to park behind where she'd left her own car earlier this evening, too, right alongside the building out front. Relief from this tiny victory washed over her as she cut the engine. She turned to Parker. "Mind if I see you up?"

      Parker had been leaning his elbow against the door, with his mouth hidden by his hand. But he turned her way when Knight spoke up. "…I'd like that," he answered after a beat.

      Tension left Knight's shoulders as they exited his car. She scurried back to his side, just in case, but Parker seemed steadier on his feet after sitting for a while. In fact, he seemed his normal self, heading inside and taking the elevator up to the top floor. When she followed him inside to his spacious home, Knight worried he might stupidly pipe up that they ought to turn back around and catch the last half of that dance lesson anyway, since they'd already paid for it.

      That was why Parker was greeted with a frown when he turned to close the door behind Knight. He shook his head and smiled. "I'm fine now, Jess, really," he insisted.

      "The key word being 'now,' Alden," she pointed out. She yanked off her heels, depositing them with his other shoes inside the door, and padded behind him in bare feet. "You still didn't answer me. What have the doctors said?"

      Parker's taut back and shoulders gave him away. He lingered by the armchair before slowly shrugging out of his dark gray blazer and draping it over the chair's back. He finished loosening his tie and placed that atop the blazer next. While he unbuttoned his shirtsleeves to roll them up, he cleared his throat. "It's nothing major. I wasn't lying to the team when I said I was cleared for duty, and Director Vance is fully aware of my status."

      Knight frowned at his back.

      "The doctors… What Jimmy told you guys was correct. My head trauma from the garage collapse was minor, so I really was lucky. But the fact is that doctors still had to insert a catheter to get the swelling down, and." He paused there.

      Her frown deepened. She drew closer, though, and reached up behind his left ear. He didn't jolt but turned towards her touch as she felt for that tiniest of bumps, from where the needle had been…as if she couldn't recall. Her memories of his hospital stay were burned into her mind.

      Parker reached up and covered her hand with his, lowering it as he faced her. "Everything's good, honest. I'll…probably be on blood thinners indefinitely, given the hematoma they drained, but sometimes there's just." He shrugged. "A little bit of pressure. Just enough to give me pause."

      "Alden, I thought you were going to faint."

      "I won't. If I do, then promise me you'll sue for medical malpractice, because all the docs have assured me that I won't."

      Knight shook her head but found herself smiling and wanting to laugh. "Only your family can sue, smarty-pants."

      He shrugged again but rolled his eyes, not commenting.

      That caught Knight's attention—but she dismissed it, because not only were they nowhere near that point yet, but they hadn't even discussed it. So that'd be something for another day. Still… Knight leaned against him and reached for his ear again while Parker wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hard to believe such a tiny scar is all that's left of something so…serious."

      Parker frowned. "…scars can be a lot of things, Jess."

      "No, I—" His words gave her pause. "Wait. I thought you'd otherwise healed from then?" Without waiting for him to reply, Knight pushed back the collar of his Oxford and felt behind his neck, where he'd had what she'd thought was a minor burn from the heat of the initial blast. …no, it'd definitely been minor. His skin was smooth and new.

      Pink dusted the apples of his cheeks, bold on his already peachy complexion. "While I appreciate the tactile inspection…that's not what I meant."

      Knight blinked. She blushed, too, for two seconds, before laughing and relaxing against him, toying with the back of his collar. Just a few weeks of dating and already she'd grown this comfortable being inside his personal bubble. "Then what?"

      Parker lifted one hand to point at a familiar spot two inches above his heart. "Sometimes scars are dregs, the aftermath. But other times, they're a reminder, like saying we've used up our one get-out-of-jail-free card."

      She swallowed her laughter. Knight stared at that spot and let her hand hover over it, the image of the spider web-like splat blooming in her mind as if Parker were showing it to her once more, just as he'd done back at the hospital, simply because she'd asked if he'd ever been shot. She gently traced her fingertip over it through his shirt as Parker rested his forehead against hers.

      "… I'm sorry I ruined our special night out," he mumbled.

      "You didn't. The Unkindness did, hurting you that bad," Knight corrected. "Besides, we've had plenty of other lovely nights out, and we can always reschedule with the dance studio. I wouldn't mind a night in."

      He went quiet.

      Knight froze, realizing how her words sounded. While she'd been over to his home several times, she'd never been over to his home, and to bring it up now just…felt so wrong. Heat came rushing back to her cheeks, and suddenly Knight wished it weren't in the middle of summer, that she had something to cover up with, that she had more than this silly little halter dress on and that stupid ideas and possibilities weren't flooding the front of her mind at this exact moment. She pushed away from Parker. "AH! Um, sorry, what I meant was— I, um— I think I'll just le—"

      But Parker caught her arm, not letting Knight turn away and head for the door. "Jess, stay. It's all right. I get it."

      She still wanted to crawl into a hole right about now, but Knight managed to exhale. "Oh."

      He drew her back to him and brushed back a stray lock of hair that had gotten free from its bobby pin. "…I recall telling you I've got worse scars than the gunshot one." The rest was conveyed in his heavy-lidded stare: Do you want to know the stories of the rest?

      Knight's mouth went dry, but she nodded. Her eyes were half closed when he kissed her, but he lingered near, head still resting against hers, their noses bumping and their breaths mingling…

      …all while Parker began to unbutton his shirt.

      He managed that part just fine, as well as untucking it, but he hissed slightly when he went to shrug it off, so Knight shot him a look of reproach. He replied with a grin and accepted her help, though, and they tossed his shirt on the back of the armchair, as well.

      Parker was down to his thin, short-sleeved undershirt—but Knight saw right away what he meant by other, worse scars. She traced her fingers along old welts indenting his arms, below his shoulders and above his biceps, right below where the undershirt's sleeves stopped. The welts ran around back and likely circled each arm.

      Knight gasped. "How?"

      Parker touched one of the welts briefly before untucking the undershirt, too. "Op gone wrong. Hostage situation. And I was the hostage, along with a few civilians. It…it was how they had us tied up. Made it damn hard to escape or even move." He paused and pursed his lips. "…Jess, there are…matching rings, here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he guided her hand to his left thigh. Even through the thick material of his pant leg, already she imagined what the matching set looked and felt like.

      "When you said the other scars were worse, you meant it."

      He nodded. Parker sighed, but Knight realized a second later that had been a breath to steel himself before he shed the undershirt, too.

      Knight didn't gasp this time. Instead, her eyes itched as she took inventory of what marred his torso.

      There was a grouping of pale, twin dots, clustered together under his right breast. "Taser burns, from someone a little too happy not to use a gun," Parker explained.

      His skin was discolored on the left side, by his stomach, under where his arm might hide it if his arm were down. "Skin graft, after a house fire set to destroy evidence. …there was another victim inside, too, but we, ah. We didn't…get to her in time."

      Worst of all were the crisscrossed lines scoring Parker's gut. They were a variety of pale shades, some close to white and others close to his natural tone, and the lines were assorted lengths and widths, too. Some scars were perhaps the length of Knight's knuckle. Others nearly cut Parker in half, running from one of his sides to the other.

      Knight stared at him in horror, her heart aching with worry.

      But he shook his head. "All ancient, I assure you. The stomach's a real popular place to stab someone, especially an FBI agent, in my case. But I've been stitched up time and again by the best."

      "What are you, Humpty-Dumpty…?!"

      "No…although I'd really like not to be stabbed again. There's a lot of internal scar tissue. I don't want to think about what things would be like if everything became scar tissue."

      Knight swallowed an anxious lump and eyed his gut. "Does it still hurt?"

      "That? No. Jess, none of this does. It'll take far worse than this to take me off the board."

      Still, Knight had to know for herself. She pressed her palm against his middle and looked up into his dark eyes, searching for any hint of pain.

      But the sly sonuvabitch either was a good actor or had told the truth. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head towards her, as if to ask, Satisfied?

      She narrowed her eyes at him. Then, surprising them both, Knight pressed a soft kiss to his spider web scar. "I don't want anything taking you off the board," she stated. "And I don't want you in pain, either."

      That amused smirk from earlier tonight toyed with the ends of Parker's lips. "Planning to do a thorough inspection?"

      "Yes," Knight decided. She reached a slightly shaky hand behind her to catch the zipper between her shoulder blades. "But…I also want you to see that your scars can be—well, not a badge of honor, that's cliché." She took a breath and unzipped her dress, and then she gathered her hair over her right shoulder and turned for him to see. "But they're definitely a mark of the good we do in this world, Alden. That our efforts leave this world a better place."

      Parker went quiet again, but his hands were warm as they glided over the lower half of her back, the half she always kept hidden, even by the few dresses she owned, because none of them were backless. …no, they couldn't be, because Knight's back was scored with little, scratchy scars, some like carvings and a few raised, and it wasn't something pretty to behold or something she liked to show off.

      Knight let Parker take in the sight for another minute before she inhaled and explained, "From my second year being a REACT agent. A small group of friends hoped to turn into homegrown terrorists, and we'd rounded up some of them, but two ended up taking another as hostage, the last who wanted to turn himself in. I'd just talked one of them into letting their hostage go and joining me when the other suspect tripped over the stash of explosives they'd collected. It wouldn't've been so bad if they hadn't, uh, already modified one." She let her hair fall back into place and faced Parker once more. "Shrapnel went everywhere…but! Everyone survived. The worst culprits are doing twelve years, but hey. We take what we can get, right?"

      Parker held her gaze for two heartbeats. Then he cupped her cheek and kissed her. "Your efforts definitely leave this world a better place, Jess Knight. You make the people around you better people, too."

      She smiled against his lips. "I try…but only if people let me," she quipped. Knight tugged on his waistband, pulling him flush against her.

      "You are more than welcome with this grouchy guy, if you'll have him," he consented, and Parker kissed that smile again, more deeply, and let his hands glide over her back once more, heading lower this time, just as Knight reached back to unfasten the snap keeping the halter part of her dress up.

:D This is a fic I've had in mind for a little bit, to deliver on my promise of Knight taking a scar count on Parker at some point. ;3 They were rly beaten up quite a bit back in "20 Winks," Parker more so than Knight, and having this set after "Minor Details" allowed for some worries to exist still and for me to show that they're still navigating this new relationship, which only began for reals in the 3rd fic. :') But I'm still so charmed by "Token," hence the nod to his tie, as well as the nearly fulfilled promise of dance lessons. X'D I did think about how far Parknight might go here…but I wanted this to be more sensual than sexual here, so I chose to leave things to readers' imaginations, esp since there was so much meaningful stuff for Parknight in here. :'D As Parker would say—baby steps, for them. XD Also, since I originally began this "20 Winks" universe after s19e17, "Starting Over," I'm ignoring the s19 finale/how they developed the Raven thread, *lol*, esp since I kinda like my uni's take on things. ;P So no Parker going on the run! Ahhh, I just rly enjoy writing in this universe… Last note: This fic was brought to you by the album road to nowhere by saturn genesis, on loop. XDDD (But srsly, it's v good and soothing—highly rec!) So go read the other stories in this universe if you haven't already, and then catch up on my other Parknights if you crave more charrie dvlpmt with both or either of them! :D Still need more? Feel free to request fic or art from me, come chat with me about Parknight or NCIS in general, and swing by the parknights tumblr for more PK goodness~ Three cheers for these two, yeah?

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[fanficimagery]

Wildest Dreams.

Imagine it's a couple days before your wedding and your friends start coming in for your last days of freedom. Only you start having second thoughts, old feelings crop up, and you end up having a breakdown.

Words: 5.1K Warnings: This happens to be an AU with no children and Liz is alive. If a character isn't mentioned, I'm sorry. I had too many characters already.

The Mikaelsons, plus a couple of significant others, are sitting around a fire pit in the backyard of their mansion down in New Orleans after a surprisingly calm family dinner. The only one missing is Rebekah who'd gotten up to answer the door when one of Klaus' minions was dropping off some things inside. But mere seconds later she's returning, a smile gracing her lips as she reads from what appears to be an invitation in her hands.

"You have been cordially invited to witness the celebration of love between Landon Wesley and Y/N Y/L/N," she says as she retakes her seat next to Marcel. "Aw. Our little Y/N grew up so fast."

Elijah, who'd been staring into the fire, suddenly frowns. He sits up a little straighter in his seat. "Y/N is getting married?"

Skimming through the invitation, Rebekah doesn't see her brother's expression. But Klaus, Marcel, Freya, and Keelin do. "Mhm. In two weeks, but she wants me down there a couple days before for a girls thing. She said I could bring whoever I wanted, so Freya and Keelin are coming with."

"Oh. Okay," Keelin huffs. "So I guess we don't get a say in this?"

"Nope. Not at all."

Keelin rolls her eyes, but she's smiling all the while. Freya pats her wife on the back of the hand, chuckling, just as Elijah clears his throat and stands up. "Well if you excuse me, I think I'm going to call it a night."

As Elijah makes his exit, Rebekah finally lifts her head from the invitation. Klaus hides his smirk behind the glass tumbler he's sipping from as everyone else watches Elijah go with their interest piqued.

"Am I the only one who found that weird?" Keelin asks, gesturing towards where Elijah disappeared off to.

Marcel chuckles, shaking his head. "Not at all. Someone please tell me what the deal is there?"

Rebekah sighs. "Y/N holds a special place inside Elijah's heart."

"Dear Y/N is cousin to one Caroline Forbes of Mystic Falls, part of the scooby gang we once loathed." Klaus smirks. "But we never loathed Y/N."

"Not at all." Rebekah now starts to smile. "Y/N was kind, even when her family and friends plotted our deaths. She was the only one whose word we could trust and the only other person who purposely engaged 'lijah in conversation."

"We obviously thought our dear brother had a thing going on with Y/N, but he denied it every time," Klaus says. "It was because she was only seventeen at the time, but it's been years now."

"Y/N is definitely all grown up." Rebekah slowly smirks. "And definitely still asks after Elijah."

Klaus chuckles. "And it appears Elijah still harbors something for our favorite Mystic Falls resident."

"Well damn," Marcel mumbles. "We're so going to this wedding. We haven't had normal people drama in a while."

Keelin raises her glass in salute to Marcel's words. This was definitely going to be an interesting trip.

The Salvatore brothers have given up the Boarding House for the night so you could meet with your girls. Caroline took care of getting food and drinks, and Bonnie and Elena knew it was best to just stay out of Caroline's way. Because as Maid of Honor, Caroline took her duties a little too seriously.

"Can we eat yet?" Bonnie asks, already munching on a breadstick. "What are we even waiting for?"

"I'm expecting a few more friends," you say. "They're about five minutes out."

"And which friends are these?" Caroline wonders.

"Rebekah." Caroline immediately groans whereas Bonnie and Elena look uncomfortable. "Don't even give me that look," you tell your cousin. "I made Rebekah promise to be on her best behavior and she did so long as none of you made snide comments towards her. And the other two are Freya and Freya's wife Keelin."

"Freya and Keelin? How come we've never heard of them before?" Elena asks.

"Because Freya is a Mikaelson and her story was really sad," you say. "I didn't think I should tell you when I had first found out." All three girls look at you and you sigh, locking your phone and shoving it into your back pocket. "So long story short, Freya is the eldest Mikaelson. She was taken hostage by her aunt, forced to live for one year and then magically sleep for a hundred." Bonnie's eyes widen in shock. "She escaped and sought out her siblings who helped her kill their aunt so she'd finally be free. It took them a while to trust one another, but they eventually did and then Freya met Keelin. I've only spoken to them a handful of times, but they seem like great people. Just give them a chance."

The girls are quiet after learning that, but then Elena can't help but ask, "So is Freya human or..?"

"She's a witch and her wife is a werewolf." The girls all blink in surprise and you sigh. "Please. Just please give me this night and the day of my wedding. I don't need any drama."

Your pleading expression is enough to have the three of them agree and just in time as well. Elena and Caroline alert you and Bonnie that a car is pulling up, and it's not long until Rebekah, Freya, and Keelin and walking right on in.

The tension is obvious when Rebekah says hello to everyone, but the genuine smiles come out when you greet Freya and Keelin for the first time face to face, and then introduce them to Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena. Caroline, having put her best hostess persona, then leads everyone into the dining room.

Caroline and Bonnie are the only two to remain standing as everyone takes their seat, Caroline then dishing out either spaghetti or chicken alfredo while Bonnie serves up the wine. Conversation is a bit stilted, but the moment Bonnie asks Freya a question about magic it's like the flood gates open. You're surprised Freya gives up more of her story so freely and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders when Rebekah cracks a joke about how deranged her family is that has everyone laughing.

The food is devoured between the seven of you and by the end of dinner you've finished two bottles of wine. The third wine bottle follows you all into the lounge where more comfortable armchairs are carried in so everyone has a seat of their own after Freya and Keelin take over the loveseat.

"So," Caroline chirps as soon as she's comfortable, "are there any other Mikaelsons we should be expecting?"

Rebekah grins. "Is this your subtle way in trying to figure out if Nik is coming?"

Bonnie and Elena giggle as Caroline scoffs, but everyone sees right through her. Even Freya and Keelin who have no idea of the history between the two blonde vamps. But suddenly Freya stops giggling and leans forward in her seat, looking quite pensive. "Wait. Are you the Caroline that my brother couldn't help but compare every female to? You're that Caroline?"

"Yes. Yes she is," you say and take another sip of your wine.

"Huh. Now I get it." Freya chuckles. "You're cute and feisty, and can apparently keep up with Klaus. I approve." Keelin can't help but nod along as everyone laughs at Caroline's surprised expression.

The surprised expression quickly morphs into smugness, but then Caroline is quick to shake it off. "We're not here to talk about me. We're all here for Y/N. I was just wondering because you know how Damon and Stefan are with Klaus."

You sigh. "Which is why I've talked to them too," you say. "I know everyone has issues with each other, but it's my goddamn wedding and there will be no death threats or neck snapping or so help me I will stake somebody." Your friends and guests are stunned into silence before Keelin snorts, everyone then giving into their laughter quickly after. You too, eventually, and then you groan as you attempt to hide your face in the palms of your hands. "I just- I don't want any issues. I'm already freaking out as it is."

The laughter fades off, sympathetic expressions taking over, and it's Keelin who then leans forward in her seat, reaching for your hand and gripping it in comfort. "It's going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about. If you love- er, uh what's his name?"

"Landon."

"Landon! Yes, Landon," she chuckles. "If you love Landon, you'll be fine." Your smile falters and you don't have to be an onlooker to know that the light in your eyes dims just a little. Your pretty sure everyone's noticed it if the sudden intake of breath is anything to go by. "You do- you do love him, don't you?"

"Yes!" You blurt a little too fast. Your response is a little cringeworthy and you sigh, retaking your hand and slumping in your seat. "I mean we've been together for three years. I love him. I do, but.."

"But he's not 'lijah."

"Rebekah!" Freya is quick to scold.

"What?" The blonde Original shrugs. "You haven't seen them together. You don't understand."

"I'm not one to ever agree with your sister, but she has a point," Elena says. "Y/N and Elijah-"

"But there is no me and Elijah." The girls fall silent at the tone in your voice. "There never was." You retake your glass of wine, chugging the rest of its contents before setting your glass back down. "Now if you guys will excuse me, I need some air."

No one tries to stop you as you go and you end up on the back patio, hopping up onto the brick railing and then leaning your back against the brick pillar. The cold air outside cools your flushed face and you try not to let your mood tumble down the rabbit hole.

You knew inviting the Mikaelsons was bound to bring up the past, but you didn't think it'd affect you quite like it is now. Elijah was, for obvious reasons, a touchy subject with you and your friends knew not to bring him up. But then Rebekah broke the ice and Elena, of all people, just had to agree with her.

"Here. Put this on." You're surprised to see Freya offering you a jacket, but you take it nonetheless and offer her a small smile in thanks. She grins, placing a smoking bowl down on the railing next to her. "Sage," she explains. "It keeps the vampires from hearing."

"God I love magic."

Freya chuckles and then after a moment passes, she says, "I'm sorry about what my sister said in there. They shouldn't bring any of that up so close to your wedding."

You shrug. "It is what it is. And if I'm being honest, she's not totally wrong."

"No?"

You shake your head. "I almost didn't invite Elijah because I knew my stupid crush on him would resurface, but then I thought I'd look like an asshole if I sent out personal invites to everyone else and he saw he didn't receive one." Freya chuckles quietly and you sigh longingly. "And the closer it comes to my wedding, the more I find myself longing for those talks with your brother rather than what Landon has to offer. I miss our talks about history and just life in general," you say. "And the more I listen to Landon talk about the latest Xbox game or the stupid jokes he's heard from his coworkers, it feels like I die a little more every day on the inside."

Freya frowns a little. "I apologize if I'm overstepping, Y/N, but do you honestly love Landon? If you continue to compare him to my brother, you're just setting yourself and Landon up for heartbreak down the line."

"I know. And I love Landon. I do, but I don't think I'm as in love with him as I once thought."

"Y/N.."

The first tear falls and you huff a laugh as you wipe it away. Quietly, you rhetorically ask, "Why couldn't your brother just love me? It'd have made things so much more easier." You're so caught up in your feelings that you don't see Freya tense or her eyes widen in surprise. "I don't even know what I'm saying," you then mumble. "I'm getting married in two days. Maybe I should just lay off the wine until then."

"Uhh, yeah. Maybe." Freya agrees.

You snap out of your spiral then, eyes widening. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry for laying that on you."

"No. Don't be," she laughs. "You needed to vent and I'm glad it was me, an unbiased ear."

"Really?"

"Really. You're fine," Freya assures you. "Now come on. Let's get you inside before we freeze."

As you hop off the railing, heart aching and mind going a mile a minute, you can only hope that your mind clears in time for you to say I do to Landon. It would really be terrible to enter a marriage while longing for someone else.

The morning of your wedding dawns bright and early, and you immediately know you're in no shape to be getting married. Since Rebekah, Freya, and Keelin have come into Mystic Falls you've put on a brave face for everyone, but now there's no hiding exactly what you're feeling. Because the moment aunt Liz, Caroline, Elena, and Bonnie wake you for your big day with party horns and confetti, you burst into tears.

Immediately the cheerful atmosphere vanishes and the girls are stunned into silence. "I can't do this," you cry. "I can't do this to myself or to Landon. It's not fair to him."

"Oh sweetie." Liz takes a seat next to you on the bed, putting a comforting arm around your shoulders. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"I'm so sorry, aunt Liz, but I can't- I just can't get married today."

Elena shifts uncomfortably next to the bed. "Y/N, if this is about us bringing up Elijah the other night I'm so sorry."

"No. No, you don't have to be sorry." Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes and look at those in the room. "I will admit to being nervous about seeing Elijah again after only talking about him brought back this stupid crush on him, but the more I thought about it," you trail off, shaking your head. "Can I really marry a human?"

Bonnie frowns. "Y/N, you are a human."

"I know that, Bon, but after everything we've been through.. knowing all that I know, can I actually settle down behind a white picket fence and pray every night that Landon doesn't ever find out about the supernatural? Whether you guys want to admit it or not, Liz and I will always be in danger because of our ties to you guys." Seeing their frowns makes your heart break just a little bit more.

"I don't mean to offend you," you say. "I love you guys alot. But I've put Landon in danger for years now and I can't risk it anymore. Because what happens when he asks for kids? I won't bring a family into our already messy lives."

"Y/N," Caroline murmurs. "The wedding is in nine hours. What are we supposed to do?"

"Compel them to forget or to be okay with the wedding being called off. I don't care. Just please do something."

"What are you going to tell Landon?" Bonnie wonders.

"I'm not sure. If I have to, I'll call in a favor from Klaus. He likes me enough to compel the groom away."

"And the caterers?"

The bedroom door suddenly swings open and Rebekah sighs as she leans against the door jamb. "Don't worry. Us Mikaelsons have a bit of money to throw around. All caterers will be told the wedding is off and to not to mention the money they've already been paid, and Landon's family will find that they're not missing a penny from their bank accounts."

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "Thank you, Bex. Thank you so much."

"Don't even worry about it," she assures you with a smile. Then pushing off the door jamb, she pastes on a smile and claps her hands once. "Okay. All vampires and witches with me. We've got a wedding to cancel."

Caroline and Bonnie are quick to rush out of the room, but Elena lingers by the bed. When you meet her gaze, she says, "If you need some time, my family's lake house is empty. You're more than welcome to take a week or two for yourself there. We'll give you some space."

"Thank you, 'Lena. Some space and time actually sounds pretty good."

"Well then it's settled," Liz says. "You go freshen up in the bathroom and I'll pack you a bag. We'll grab some groceries while everyone cancels your wedding, and then I'll drive you down to the lake house. Does that sound like a good plan?"

You offer her a faint grin. "Yeah. It does."

The moment Elena leaves the room, it seems like everything is in a fast forward motion. Liz ushers you to the bathroom where you have a good cry in the shower and then as you're getting dressed you have numerous text messages from your friends coming in to tell you how all the compulsion is going. Damon even offers to compel Landon for you, admitting that he never quite liked the human blood bag and he was glad you had come to your senses before you took the guy's last name. That had earned your first chuckle of the morning and even Liz chuckled when you had read her Damon's text.

Liz helps you put the groceries away at the lake house and then makes you promise to call her should you need anything, no matter the time. And only after you've agreed does she finally leave you all alone.

You send off one last text to your group of friends that your phone is going to be off for the time being and then promptly fall asleep in the master bedroom.

When you wake up again, it's only a little past one in the afternoon and you decide to make yourself something to eat. You eat and then settle on the couch for a little tv, only to end up outside on the dock and staring out into the water.

The time your wedding was to take place comes and goes, and you can't help but turn your phone on to see if you have any notifications. The only messages you have are from Caroline who assures you that everything's been taken care of and that she thinks you made the right decision. Hearing confirmation from your cousin eases some of your worries and you don't feel as bad about what you did.

By the time night falls, you're snuggled up on the couch and watching the best horror has to offer in order to keep your mind off any romance for the time being. You're in the middle of watching The Conjuring when there's a knock on the front door, startling a yelp out of you. Cursing your overbearing friends and their need to make sure you're really okay, you pause the movie and get up to see who it is.

Only when you open the front door you're more than a little stunned to find Elijah standing there by the top of the porch steps as he turns to face you. There's a moment where you both drink each other in and then your eyes narrow into a glare whereas Elijah's lips stretch into a smile as he steps closer to you.

"Elijah."

"Hello, Y/N."

The butterflies take flight and your heart beats double. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Someone near and dear to me had to make possibly one of the most difficult decisions in their life this morning. Did you really think I wouldn't come to check up on you?"

You do your best not to swoon, smiling softly at him as you shake your head in amusement and open the door wider as an invite. "You're lucky you've already been invited in otherwise we'd be stuck out on the porch. Come on. Let's go take a seat."

Elijah follows you into the living room after shutting the door behind him and you turn off the movie so you can place all your focus on him. There's a fire going in the fireplace, but you still turn on a few lamps so you can see him properly. And when you turn back around it's to see that Elijah already made himself comfortable smack dab in the middle of the couch.

Grinning, you drop in the spot next to him with one leg curled beneath you and the other hanging off the front of the couch so your foot is planted on the floor. "Hi," you muse.

"Is it too soon to ask you what happened?"

Straight to the point as usual, his question makes you faintly cringe. But before he can take the question back, you decide to tell him. "I'm too involved with the supernatural world, Elijah. What kind of person would I be if I had dragged Landon into the mess that is our lives? He deserves to have a normal and happy life."

"And what about you? Don't you deserve to be normal and happy?"

As he speaks, you notice how his gaze drops to your mouth before quickly darting up and looking elsewhere. You try to play it off but you know your damn heart gives you away immediately when he fights off a smile. "Normal and happy is so overrated," you then manage to say. "After all that I've seen and been through, a normal life would be boring."

Elijah finally allows himself to smile. "Is that the only reason why you wouldn't marry him?"

You tense at his knowing gaze, heart beat tripling as it's your turn to avert your gaze. You'd never been good at confronting your feelings head on, especially with the person said feelings are for. So as the seconds tick on by, you can feel your face flushing. You quietly groan. "Do I really have to say it out loud? It's embarrassing."

"Y/N."

"Elijah," you retort. You manage to hold his gaze for three seconds before you break eye contact and sigh. "It was obvious I had a crush on you back when I was seventeen and apparently it's still obvious now."

"I think it's adorable."

"Of course you do." Against your better judgement you reach out to swat at his arm and your breath hitches as he catches your hand and then maneuvers it so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. You smile sadly. "It's been you since I was seventeen and I don't think anyone can ever compare to the Elijah Mi-mmph."

Elijah stuns you by pulling you into his lap and quickly maneuvering you so your knees are on either side of his lap, his mouth slotting against yours with such ease. There's a moment where you don't know what exactly to do with your hands, but the second his hands tug on the hem of your shirt, your hands find purchase on his shoulders before sliding up the side of his neck.

It's you who breaks the kiss for some much needed air, but you don't go far because Elijah keeps you close. His hand cups the side of your jaw, but his thumb runs gently under your bottom lip. You nip at his thumb, he grins, and then you groan when your predicament finally settles in. Elijah chuckles as you drop your head to his shoulder, your hands clutching at his sides under his suit jacket.

"What are we even doing?"

"I believe you're finally going after what you truly wanted."

"And you? What about you?" You ask, shifting nervously in his lap as you sit back.

"I am making my move," he says as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "before someone else comes in to ask for your hand in marriage." You roll your eyes and he chuckles softly. "Since I made you admit something earlier, I will admit that I too have compared everyone to you. My family knew I held you above all else and they were quick to rub it in my face that you were to wed this evening. And earlier when I got Rebekah's call, I knew this was our chance."

"You're a big 'ol softy, Elijah Mikaelson."

"Only when it comes to you, Y/N Y/L/N."

You can't help but smile at his words, leaning in for a quick kiss. But it's not so quick as Elijah pulls you back in, peppering a few kisses across your mouth and cheeks. You giggle, but then that giggle turns into a groan. "The girls are going to be unbearable."

"Niklaus too, but I'm willing to put up with it as long as I have you by my side." You make a noise and facial expression as if you have to think about it, and Elijah gently squeezes your waist in retaliation which makes your jerk in his hold. "If you're that worried about their reactions, we can go away for a bit until everyone has had enough time to get used to our new situation."

You huff a laugh, but upon seeing Elijah's expression your amusement fades away. "You're serious."

"I am. New Orleans is a bit crowded at the moment and if I remember correctly you've always wanted to see Ireland. So what do you say to a spontaneous vacation with me?"

You blink owlishly at Elijah before your lips stretch into a smile. "Yes!" Your excitement makes him chuckle, but then you're quick to to come down. "My friends won't go for it. They'll continuously ask if I know what I'm doing and want daily updates and everything."

"They won't. And if they do, they'll have Sheriff Forbes to answer to." Your brow furrows in confusion and Elijah smirks. "How do you think I found you all the way out here? I stopped by the Forbes residence and Elizabeth was kind enough to point me in the right direction. It seems we already have one person in our corner."

"Jesus Christ," you huff. "Are we really doing this?"

"Only if you're sure you want to."

You take a moment to think things through, but before that moment can stretch on too long, you say, "Yeah. Let's do this. When do we leave?"

"Whenever you want," he tells you.

"As much as I wanna leave right now, I kind of just want to take you up to bed and get reacquainted with you."

Elijah slowly smiles. "I quite like the way you think, Miss Y/L/N."

"Then what are you waiting for, old man? Take me to bed already."

SIX MONTHS LATER

Freya and Keelin have just gotten home, a stack of mail on the hall table catching Freya's attention. Her siblings are out as usual, wrecking havoc no doubt, so on her way to the kitchen she grabs up the stack to sort through it.

As Keelin goes about grabbing the wine from the fridge and two glasses, Freya starts to filter out the trash from the stack of mail. Only halfway through the stack, one particular envelope catches her eye.

Freya starts to smile. "It seems like Elijah finally broke his silence."

"Oohh," Keelin coos. "What does he have to say? How is Y/N doing? Because last I heard not even the girls in Mystic Falls know."

Freya opens up the envelope, pulling out a picture and a letter. She smiles brightly upon seeing her brother and Y/N smiling under the Northern Lights- which is utterly adorable, in her opinion- and then goes on to read the letter to herself. Her smile slowly falters as her eyes widen in surprise. "No. They didn't," she breathes in awe. She quickly scans the picture again, her eyes lighting up as she laughs joyously. "They did!"

Keelin startles. "What? What did they do?"

Freya drops the letter and quickly flips around the picture for her wife to see. "They got married!"

"WHAT!?" Keelin practically shouts. "Let me see," she says as she hurries around the kitchen island.

Freya openly laughs now. "They got married under the Northern Lights last month. They'll finally be coming home in a couple of weeks."

Keelin grabs the photo so she can study it itself, her smile blossoming. "Oh my god. They really did get married."

"In the letter, Elijah said only Caroline and her mother know. They're going to come here first so they can figure out living arrangements and then they'll go see everyone else."

"Rebekah is going to be so pissed," Keelin muses.

"I can see it now, she's going to force a small ceremony on them when they're settled in."

"As long as I get to see Elijah smile in person as he is in his wedding photo, I'm all for it. Jesus looks at how adorable they look together."

"I know," Freya says. "I don't think my brother could have found anyone better for himself. We had only met Y/N and I immediately knew they'd be perfect for each other."

"Right?" Keelin then huffs. She looks at the picture one last time before setting the picture down. "We need to blow that up and hang it on the wall. Getting married under the Northern Lights was such a neat idea."

"Mhm. So much better than that Christmas themed wedding she originally had planned."

Keelin chuckles. "I thought I was the only one who thought the Christmas theme was tacky."

"Oh no. Rebekah secretly hated it too, but she didn't want to upset Y/N. She will, however, be upset she missed the Northern Lights wedding."

"I mean I'm pretty bummed, but I'm also excited for them to get home so we can pick their brains and get to the bottom of whatever the hell they were thinking. I'm super stoked for them, but I also want to know who proposed to who and everything!"

"Same here." Freya turns towards her wife, wrapping her arms around her waist while Keelin settles her arms around Freya's neck. "But until then we got family to inform of the couple's new status. Not it!"

"Not i- dammit!" Keelin pouts, she now having to be the one to inform Klaus and Rebekah. "I hate it when you do that."

Freya laughs. "Better luck next time. Now let's go. I can't wait to see their reactions."

[rekrappeter]

there’s so much you don’t know

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: after the death eaters swarm bill & fleur’s wedding, fred can’t keep his feelings at bay in fear that something might happen

warnings: mention of war, mentions of torture, mentions of death, swearing, typos, small bit of angst, fluff

notes: please let me know what you think of this, feedback would be amazing thank you

The woman that stared back at you in the cracked mirror was someone you barely recognised in that moment. It was surreal that a purple dress hung loosely on your body, your hair pinned to how you wanted it, and the make-up that decorated your face was hiding the heavy bags and stressed acne that the past few months brought. Everyone thought it was deranged to have a wedding in the current times, when the wizarding world was falling apart, but everyone also knew they needed a distraction. People needed one night to themselves before everything went wild. ‘The calm before the storm,’ Arthur Weasley forced a smile during the conversation at dinner a week ago. 

“The calm before the storm,” you whispered to yourself, trying to zip your dress up from behind with unnecessary struggle. You have been sharing a room with Hermione and Ginny for the past week, helping Molly prepare for the wedding and calming Fleur down in moments of madness. Walking over to the ajar door, you called out Hermione’s name and when there was a steady silence that followed, you tried Ginny’s. But no one answered your calls for help until a head popped out from the room just above you, looking over the ballister. 

“Everything okay, love?” Out of everyone that was scattered around the house, of course it had to be Fred Weasley. It wasn’t that you disliked him or held any cynical feelings towards the older boy, it was the complete opposite in fact. When you met his younger brother, Ron, on the train during your first year at Hogwarts, you never expected to fall madly in love with his family member. It was hard not to fall for Fred when he introduced you, and at first you pushed it off as a crush but here you were, nearly seven years later, with a blush painting your cheeks and the nauseous butterflies swirling in your stomach. 

“I’m okay, have you seen Hermione anywhere?” you called up to him, trying to calm your heart before it jumped out of your chest - that would be a gory sight that you weren’t ready for. 

“I heard mum call them out help with the decorations,” Fred replied.

“Great, Ginny as well?” 

“Yes, y/n,” An amused smirk tugged on his lips, watching your eyes dart between the stairs and his face. He found it entertaining that you couldn’t keep eye contact with him, after seven years of knowing each other he would have thought that you’d have warmed up to him by now. “Do you need my help?” Before you could make any noises of protest, Fred was already bouncing down the steps to your door. 

You knew there was no use in objecting to his offer, you had to get your dress zipped up before going downstairs and if he was the only person available to help, you’d have to suck your feelings up and get on with it. You brushed your hair over your shoulder, exposing your bare back, and turned so that Fred would understand what you needed help with. Because your back was to him, you missed the way he gulped at the sight of you, a red tint painting his cheeks. You gasped as his fingers trailed over your back, and he muttered an apology about his cold flesh but it wasn’t that that made you lose complete control, it was the fireworks igniting in your stomach at him touching you. The dress slowly started to tighten around your body, hugging your curves nicely as he zipped it up agonisingly slow. 

“Thank you, Fred,” you mumbled when he finished, taking one big step to create as much distance between your bodies as humanly possible. 

A small smile rested on his lips, his eyes flickering over your figure, “You look beautiful, y/n.” 

“Thank you,” you repeated, and you used this opportunity to take in his own appearance. He had his flaming red hair brushed back neatly, and the way the hair contrasted against his black suit made him look even more dashing than he usually did. “You look very handsome, Fred.” 

Fred bowed playfully, making you roll your eyes and giggle, before accepting his outstretched arm and letting him walk you down the stairs to join the other. You caught the eye of Ginny who gave you a wide eyed look, sneaking a wink in your direction when Fred bid you a quick goodbye before dancing out to where George and his other brothers were getting ready to lift the marquee. 

“What was that?” Ginny swayed to your side, she bumped your shoulder with her own.

“Nothing, he just helped me with my dress when you were no where to be found,” you snapped playfully, walking out to the garden and taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. 

Ginny filled her mouth with a pig in blanket, wiping away the crumbs to hide the evidence. “Oh, I heard you, I just knew Fred would be there as well.” 

“Ginny!” you gasped, the sudden outburst made George and Fred glance in your direction, but you didn’t notice, too focused on their little sister being a minx. “Will you ever stop playing cupid? It didn’t work last year, it won’t work this year.”

“You two are both just stupid, you’re in love with each other and won’t do anything about it.” 

“She’s not wrong you know?” Harry chimed up, stepping out of the door behind you and you shot him a glare. 

“What’s this? Gang up on y/n day?” 

“That’s everyday,” Harry smiled, complimenting you before turning his attention to Ginny. You rolled your eyes at the pair, who were they to talk about being too oblivious to notice when someone was in love with you? 

After a beautiful ceremony that announced Bill and Fleur newlyweds, the golden chairs that decorated the tent slowly started to disappear and the walls that kept all the guests inside opened up, highlighting the beautiful orange sky that was settling over the countryside. You excused yourself to go back inside the Burron, embarrassed of the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. Weddings always made you cry, it was a weakness that you never wanted people to know. The thought of two people expressing their love and promising to spend the rest of their lives together made you emotional. 

When you returned, the party was in full swing. You scanned the crowd, seeing Ron and Hermione dancing together, well Hermione was the one dancing. You couldn’t make out what Ron was doing, it was a mix of a jig and a waltz, his arms swaying in the strangest of directions. You spotted the disguised Harry talking to Luna Lovegood, sending a small wave her way when she caught your eye. You tried to look busy, hoping she wouldn’t make her way over to you. When you spotted Fred, your heart leaped with an ache at the sight of him dancing with a distant cousin of Fleur’s. You tried not to focus on how beautiful she was, her long blonde hair swaying as Fred laughed and spun her around. You quickly grabbed a glass of Elderflower wine off the tray as the waiter passed you, downing it in one gulp. 

“Slow down there, princess,” George smiled at you as he walked with you to an empty table, but before you could take a seat, he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the dancefloor.

“George, you know I don’t dance,” you whined, pouting up at the taller boy. 

“You can stand on my feet, I’ll do the moves,” You hated how you were so comfortable with George yet you could barely string a full sentence when Fred was around. You tried your best to follow George’s lead before you gave up and stood on his toes, his feet a lot bigger than yours. 

You let him spin you around, laughing at his comments about the women’s hairpieces and how he wondered if he was at a wedding or a zoo. It was a lighthearted conversation, something that you needed to distract you from his twin dancing with an angel on the other side of the room. Everytime George spun, your eyes automatically found Fred’s figure, the curiosity getting the best of you. George stopped spinning you, his back to Fred as you found yourself looking over his shoulder at him. 

“He’ll come to his senses soon,” your eyes flickered to George’s, feigning confusion but yu knew exactly what he was talking about. “He feels the same as you do, he’s just in denial.” 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” A bellowed laugh erupted from George’s lungs, his red hair bouncing as he shook his head in amusement. “Shut up, G,” you hissed, as curious eyes landed on the pair of you. 

“You think I don’t know how you feel about my brother? It’s painfully obvious, love,” you groaned at his words, the dancing soon stopped. 

“Then what’s wrong with me? Wh-Why doesn’t he like me?” 

“Have you ever told him?” George questioned, the frown on your face giving him his answer, “And he does like you, it’s disgustingly cute. Trust me, the sooner you two get together the better. I can’t keep losing sleep because he can’t make up his mind on which way to tell you.” 

“Really?” you piped up, any doubt you’ve been experiencing over the last twenty minutes completely vanished. George reassured you, about to make another comment when a bolt of blue flickering light ceased any further excitement. It took you a moment to notice the patronus in the centre of the dancefloor. 

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

In a heartbeat, chaos erupted around you. Guests were yelling for their partners, others disapparating as far away from the Burrow as possible, and your wide eyes glancing up at George as the Death Eaters stormed the marquee. You pushed through the crowd, your fingers intertwining with George’s as your eyes scanned the crowd trying to find the missing twin. Spells were being casted from every angle, members of the Order protecting guests but they were too strong. A hand grabbing your free arm made you jump in surprise, but relief washed over you when Fred’s eyes connected with yours. Immediately, you felt safe. 

Hours had passed, each member of the Order getting interrogated by the Death Eaters that swarmed the reception. You had excused yourself from the worried eyes of the Weasley family, and the tears spilled from your eyes the moment you shut the door to the bedroom. You knew you were being watched so you tried to stay away from the window, sliding down the uneven wall and bringing your knees to your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly due to the fear washing over you. 

The door to the bedroom creaked open, Fred popping his head in as he sent you a sad smile. “Are you hurt?” he asked, sitting down across from you. His long legs folded in front of you, the blood drizzling from a cut just above his eyebrow. 

“M-my wrist is sore, it could have been worst…” you whispered, you were thankful that everyone was safe and no one was harmed as much as you would have expected from the Death Eaters. "How is everyone downstairs?"

Fred sighed, his head hanging, "Everyone is a bit shook up but at least we're alive." 

An unexpected sob passed by your lips, your hands visibly shaking at his words. The thought of losing anyone in this house sent shivers down your spine, but you only just realised now that it is a possibility. Someone could have died tonight, someone could die tomorrow night. The war was happening and there was nothing you could do about it. "W-we're only kids," you sobbed, unconsciously falling into Fred's side as his arms immediately wrapped around you. He nuzzled his head into your hair, muttering words of reassurance as he let you cry on the floor. His fingers rubbed circles around your bare arms, the dress that was once so beautifully ironed creased and torn at the ends.

Silence stretched around the room, the sound of your sobs echoing off the four walls. Fred thought carefully about the words he spoke next, he was fearful that he had left it too late. But the possibility of not making it out alive settled within him tonight, the fear of taking his feelings for you to the grave overcame the fear of being rejected by you. "Y/n, I have to tell you something."

You leaned your body back from him, panic written across your features but the light smile on his face seized any worries. "What is it?" You whispered, moving to lean on your knees beside him. Your heart was pounding against your chest, you were praying and hoping that this was going in the direction you’ve dreamt about for years. 

Fred heaved a heavy sigh, his head falling back to hit against the beige wallpaper with a bang but he didn't care. His eyes stared into yours, watching how your tongue danced across your bottom lip and how your eyes were flickering from his to his mouth. There were no words to explain how he truly felt about you. Instead of speaking, Fred jumped forward and connected his lips to yours within seconds. Your eyes were wide, his were too but when neither of you pulled away, your eyes fluttered closed and you relaxed into his body.

His arms lay limp at his side before you shuffled closer to him and he brought his hands to cup your face. You shifted to rest both of your knees on either side of his body, the kiss deepening and it was everything you dreamed of. You lost count of the amount of times that you’ve dreamt about this moment, the countless nights you’d stare at the ceiling hoping and wishing that this would happen. When the fight for air became too much, you pulled away from Fred. A twinkle appeared in his eyes, his lips twitching to a smile as he breathed out in disbelief. 

“Why did it take you so long to do that?” you asked, your hand caressing over his face as you brushed away a couple of strands of his hair. 

A pink blush settled over Fred’s cheeks, and he sighed placing his hands on your waist. “If anything happens to me, I just wanted you to know how I feel about you.” 

The reality of what was happening slowly draped over your shoulders, your heart heavy knowing that blood will be lost during the upcoming war. The thought of losing Fred when you’ve only just got him made you want to never let go of him, the idea of running away and leaving flashed through your thoughts but you knew you couldn’t. Neither of you would abandon the people you loved. “We’ll get out of this alive, all of us.” 

The look Fred gave you made your heart shatter into tiny unmendable pieces. You were living in a dream, and you knew it, but you wanted to hold onto hope until you took your last breaths whether they come in two months from now or twenty years. “Some of us have already died, there will be more to come.” It hurt Fred to speak the truth, the thought of losing you was something he wasn’t equipped to deal with just yet. 

“Can we just have tonight then?” you whispered, looking longingly into his eyes as you brought your lips to his again. He nodded into the kiss, his hands trailing up and down your body as he brought you closer to him. He’d die happy if it was in this moment. 

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.2k

tagging list: @angrylittleriri​ @chims-kookies​ @gooseyhouse​

a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) i honestly wasn’t expecting people to like or interacting with this fic, so my heart is super warm right now :>  

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

happy almost new year! see you all next week!

master list

<< life as we know it | life as he’s known it >>

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things? 

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit—ow!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass you chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain  to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks. 

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were exceptionally trying. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

Is this what kids are into these days?

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and...echo location? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas.  "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for four years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a really long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?” 

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people don't do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the  pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as  he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you  decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe. 

[foreverfallingforthestars]

Have We Met Before?

This is my last entry for Rowaelin month and it's my favorite one out of all of them. I'm really proud of this one, so I hope everyone enjoys it. Thank you to the admin group for holding Rowaelin month!

Song this is based off of is Eric Nam and Sarah Barrios' Have We Met Before

cw: kind of has character death but also not

Word Count: 1821 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 29 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: A work based off a song

~~~~~~

Aelin was exhausted, and as she sat down in the local café in her new neighborhood, she finally felt some semblance of peace. She had just moved to Doranelle due to an incredible job offer in one of the best publishing houses in this side of the world, and Aelin would be an idiot if she didn’t take it. Granted, she was now farther away from her cousin and her best friend, but she’d deal with anything if it meant working with some of her favorite authors. Packing up everything and moving into a new apartment was hard and tiring enough, but it was even worse with the strange, vivid dreams she’d been getting ever since moving into the apartment.

She moved a hand to rub at her collarbone, a sudden ache passing through the area as she remembered the dream - that was practically a nightmare, if she were being honest - where she had been slashed against that area with a knife before she had woken up with a strange sensation of missing someone along with the deep heartache that followed it.

It felt more like a memory, but that couldn’t be possible.

Shaking off the weird feeling in her gut, she tried to focus on the open word document on her laptop screen. This was the perfect opportunity to drink some coffee, have some great pastries, and get some editing done, and yet, even after nearly half of an hour of working, her mind kept drifting off to the dream.

Sighing, Aelin looked up and was surprised to find a man sharing the coffee table with her. The table was fairly large, big enough to seat four people comfortably, and she hadn’t even noticed when the man had chosen to sit diagonally across from her. She didn’t really mind, but the strange feeling overcame her again as she took him in.

He had silver hair, and his eyes were focused on the book in his hands, and he was fairly built if the tight shirt showing off his pecs were any indication. Under normal circumstances, Aelin would’ve been more than happy to start up a conversation with him — considering how handsome he was and the fact that he was a reader — to try to get to know him more, but as she watched him take a sip of his black coffee, she was astonished that she felt like she already knew him.

But how? Aelin’s brow furrowed as she contemplated where she could’ve possibly seen him. She’d just moved to the country — there was no way she knew anyone already that wasn’t working with her. He was a stranger, and yet the more she looked at him, the closer she felt to him.

It felt like déjà vu, and as the man looked up to glance around the room, his strikingly green eyes reminded her of the eyes she had seen in her dreams. Once they landed on her face, their eyes meeting and causing an undercurrent of electricity to pass through her, it was as though all the breath had been knocked out of her.

Aelin swore she had seen those eyes before, in her dreams no less, but that was impossible. She’d never seen this man before.

It couldn’t be, and yet…

~~~

“Come on, Aelin,” he teased, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s one dance.” They were sitting on the stairs of her apartment building, and the streets were filled with music. It was the second anniversary of Terrasen becoming an independent kingdom, and the celebrations were going on in full-force. Aelin loved the happy and carefree atmosphere that the music blasting through the streets would bring about, but unfortunately, if she didn’t finish writing down her thoughts on the uprising rebellion against the current regime for Doranelle Daily, then she would just become “another one of those useless women” that her boss, Arobynn, loved to harass.

“Yes, and then one dance turns into five,” she retorted, but without any of her usual snark. “I need to finish this article for tomorrow.” Aelin held up her notebook for emphasis, showing off her unfinished sentence.

“Oh, come on, darling,” her boyfriend continued pestering, pushing her notebook back into her lap and leaning in for a quick kiss that she let him have.

“Honey, let me finish this, and then I promise we will have your dance.”

He looked absolutely petulant for a moment, his nose scrunching up in annoyance, and she reached out to ruffle his beautifully silver hair with a laugh.

“Aelin!” he protested, reaching up to push the wayward strands back down. She simply grinned at him and pecked him quickly before going back to her notebook. She heard him sigh, and she knew then that she had won him over. Her boyfriend got comfortable by wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and settling his chin on her shoulder. Aelin pressed back up into his arms, content and happy with her life.

Until, of course, everything went up in flames.

~~~

Rowan didn’t know what possessed him to sit down at a table where there was already someone sitting there, but he felt compelled to be by the woman with the blonde hair that seemed exactly like the shade of blonde that was plaguing his dreams.

He sat down on the other side of her, diagonal from her so he wouldn’t be directly in her line of sight. She seemed to be typing away, hard at work, and he decided that he would instead just focus on his book. He came out today to get some fresh air, clear his mind after the strange dreams he’d started having every night for almost a week, and that’s exactly what he intended to do.

Instead, he spent the next half hour reading the same two pages, his eyes mindlessly passing over the words, and yet he didn’t actually comprehend any of them.

His eyes kept drifting up, roaming around the room as he looked at the café without really looking, before they just ended back on the woman sitting so close, yet so far.

As he watched her type away on her laptop, Rowan felt as though this quiet, yet stange, comfort he felt around her was familiar, like he had lived through this exact moment before. He watched as she blindly picked up what looked like a sweet latte, if the amount of whipped cream on top was any indication, and then she took a bite of an apple turnover.

Yet, there was no way he had. The woman was an utter stranger — albeit, a beautiful one — and that was that. Rowan had simply lost his mind. There was no other explanation.

He directed his attention back to his book in a last ditch attempt to make some progress before letting out a frustrated sigh as he gave up again. Rowan looked back up at the bustling cafe and then at the woman, and he was surprised to find that she was looking right at him.

His eyes met her blue ones, and it could not be a coincidence that the blue eyes that he seemed to love in his dreams were the same ones that this woman had, down to the golden ring surrounding them.

~~~

They were sitting in their favorite local café, a quiet serenity surrounding them. Rowan didn’t need to be constantly talking to his girlfriend to just be happy and content with her. It was her presence that just put his mind at rest.

She was drinking an intensely sweetened milk tea, and he had just opted for a simple black tea while the two shared an apple turnover. It was one of the few pastries the two had ever agreed on, and they always opted to order one whenever they went out. Money was tight between the two of them, but they made it work to at least always be able to splurge once in a while.

Rowan looked up from his own book and smiled at the sight of his girlfriend furiously writing in her notebook, working on yet another article for Doranelle Daily. Her hair seemed to be getting in her eyes, and instead of tying it up, she kept blowing it out of her face to the point where Rowan couldn’t hold in his chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You could just tie up your hair,” he responded, laughter still clear in his voice. She looked up at him, her gorgeous blue eyes narrowed towards him.

“Oh, so now my suffering is funny to you?”

“Darling,” he spoke, leaning in closer to her from across the table, “you’re just lazy.”

“Rude,” she scoffed, but she took the hair tie off her wrist to tie up her hair, anyway.

“See? It wasn’t so hard to listen to me.”

“You could try to be a little less annoying.”

“You wouldn’t love me the same.”

“I would love to have some peace and quiet right about now.”

“We could just go home,” he innocently offered.

“So you can distract me from work again? No, thank you.”

Rowan’s jaw fell open slightly out of indignation before he scowled, and that caused a giggle to burst out of her. Rowan let go of his scowl and smiled as well.

This was what he loved, what he cherished.

Until, of course, he lost it all.

~~~

The two estranged lovers watched one another, surprise written clearly over their faces. The lack of recognition between the two was overshadowed by the memories in their dreams. The love bursting in their chest, mingled with the pain of their unwanted separation burned through them, so maybe they would say that the dreams were more like nightmares.

~~~

It was a “wrong time, wrong place” type situation. Nothing more.

The couple were walking down an alley, hand in hand, happily chatting, only to be attacked by rebels, trying to rob them in the dimming sunlight.

The female tried screaming for help when the male pushed her back, trying to protect her as he fought back against the two rebels.

It wasn’t enough.

A third rebel appeared behind the female, slashing a knife across her collarbone, causing a shriek of pain to escape her. Her screams mingled with the male’s as he tried to fight towards her, but a rebel slashed him across his bicep.

The couple was abandoned in the alley only when they had been removed of any jewelry and money, instead left with slashes and stab wounds that had them bleeding out on the ground. They stumbled into each other’s arms, clinging to their love while they would not be able to cling to life for much longer.

Their last words were declarations of love.

~~~

With those last words ringing through their minds, they each felt a pull towards one another, yet she was the one who was able to utter one sentence.

“Have we met before?”

[arietaurumini]

Final Match → Lee Jeno

anonymous asked: Hello girls! I’m a fan of what you write and you both are amazing! So please, can I request number 46 with Jeno from NCT Dream please? Thank you so much! Have a good day/evening 💕

46. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t come to my boyfriend’s match?”

Requested.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Making out, Cursing.

Genre: AU, Fluff, Crack.

The bell rang declaring the end of class. You packed your things and left the classroom and walked through the hall after putting your stuff in your locker, you walked into the cafeteria and searched for your boyfriend and his friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. You walked with your lunch tray to an empty table at the end of the cafeteria and sat down and got your phone out to dial your boyfriend’s number, but he didn’t pick up, you frowned dialing his number again and scanning the area around you for any sight of him.

“Sup Y/N!” A sudden voice came from beside you that made you drop your phone. “Oh my god, you scared me!” You said as you looked at caller before reaching for your phone and picking it up.

“I know.. I’m sorry.” She said holding back her laughter. You checked your phone to see if he picked up but it was still no answer.

Sighing, You put your phone on the table as the girl pulled the chair in front of you and sat down. You frowned, you two were not that close to sit down and eat together, plus you know she always spends lunch time on the rooftop with her boyfriend, Jaemin. Realising that Jaemin was also missing, you decided to ask her about it.

“Nara, Do you know where is Jeno?” You asked her worriedly. “Him and Jaemin are at practice with the others.” She replied carelessly as she started eating. “Oh right.” You nodded as you remembered what he told you last week about his additional practice with the team.

“Anyways I came to ask you if..” She started but suddenly stood up and yelled, “Yah! Seom Seom, come here!” She called waving her hand making everyone in the cafeteria glare at her. You followed her eyes and saw she was waving to Dasom, the girlfriend of Mark Lee, the leader of the basket ball team, as she was entering the cafeteria with her friends.

You saw Dasom waving to her friends and speed walking towards you. ‘Is this a “Girlfriend’s of the basket ball players.” reunion?’ You thought scoffing in your head.

“Yah, how many times did I tell you not to call me that? Do you have a death wish?!” Dasom snapped, hitting the table with her palm which made you flinch.

Unlike you, Nara just smiled and ushered to the seat next to her. “Just come sit down already.” She said and they both sat down.

“So, what is the so important subject that you called me for?” Dasom scoffed crossing her arms against her chest. Nara cleared her throat, “I just thought we should sit together and prepare thing for Wednesday.” She explained before going back to eating.

“Not again,” Dasom sighed, rolling her eyes. “Wednesday?” You asked raising an eye brow, as you tried to remember what special event was on Wednesday that you three need to prepare for.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me Jeno didn’t tell you!” Nara looked at you in disbelief. “The final match between the Dream and the Eagles is on Wednesday!” She said.

You recalled Jeno telling you about the match when you were both walking back home after your arcade date last weekend.

“No, he told me but still... What does that have to do with us?” You asked and Nara face-palmed she opened her mouth to reply but Dasom cut her off.

“Yeah Nara, can’t we just go like normal students? We don’t have to match our outfits or make banners, like, what’s the point of making slogans and banners to cheer them when they already have cheerleaders?!” Dasom exclaimed and Nara shook her head.

“No we can’t just go like normal students,” Nara replied as she swallowed before turning to Dasom, ”Because you don’t want one of the cheerleaders to shout ‘Mark oppa fighting!’ when he scores.” She imitated what you suppose is the cheerleaders reaction with a high pitched squeal and aegyo. You couldn’t help but laugh, while Dasom just glared at her without reaction.

“Okay, you proved your point, continue.” She said in defeat unfolding her arms and leaning on the table.

“Alright, the match will start at 6:00 pm, so we need to be there earlier,” She started the paused and turned to you. “Oh Y/N, I was just about to ask you, will you be able to come on your own or you want me to pick you up?”

You looked at her as you processed everything before smiling awkwardly, “Oh guys, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I actually won’t go to the match.” You said and went back to eating.

“What?” It was as if a bomb exploded in your face, Nara’s voice came out so loud that the whole cafeteria were now staring at you. Dasom stood up and bowed apologetically to everyone, before sitting down again.

“Can’t you just lower your voice for God’s sake Nara! It’s the cafeteria not the rooftop!” She whisper-yelled and Nara turned to her and spoke furiously, “Didn’t you hear what she just said?! The girlfriend of the Ace, Lee Jeno, is saying she is not coming to the finals!” Nara exclaimed and Dasom face palmed.

“Just calm down will you?” She told Nara before sighing and turning to you, “Now Y/N, why are you not coming? Did anything happen between you and Jeno?” She asked with concern and you shook your head immediately.

“No, it’s just.. I’m not into sports and matches and all that, plus, I have a group project meeting on Wednesday.” You said checking your schedule on you phone.

“Group project meeting?” Nara snorted but you ignored her.

“Is that it?” Dasom asked raising an eye brow. “Okay, then you can just call your group and cancel itــ” You interrupted her, “I can’t... I canceled it last week because I had a date with Jeno.. I can’t cancel this week too.” You said, looking away to avoid their eyes.

“Yah! Y/N look at me!” Nara said flickering her fingers in front of your face. “You are coming to the final match.. End of discussion.” She said smiling and Dasom sighed shaking her head, “It doesn’t work like that Nara,” Dasom said and turned to you, “Look Y/N, I know that you have only been dating Jeno for a few months, but you have to know that going to your boyfriend match is like a tradition here, as Nara said you wouldn’t like to leave your boyfriend to celebrate his goals with a hot chick from the cheerleaders.” Dasom explained.

You pictured the situation where one of the cheerleaders runs to Jeno after he scores and wrap her arms around him... You felt nuisance. Your fists balled and your frowning expression exposed your feeling to the two girls in front of you.

“See?” Dasom said looking proud.

“But.. I have never been to one of Jeno’s matches before and I’m sure he wouldn’t do that and I trust him... You mean to tell me that all you attend the match for is to make sure the cheerleaders don’t come near your boyfriends?" you asked earning a groan from Dasom.

“Look, I didn’t want to tell you about it, but now that you are that oblivious,” Nara sighed, “Hyerin has been hitting on Jeno for a while now, ever since they were partnered for a physics project she is trying to get closer to him. And for your information, Hyerin is the head of the cheerleaders, she would be the first one to run to Jeno when the match ends.” She said resting her back on the chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Okay,” You mumbled taking in everything she told you. Before you smiled warmly. “Well thank you for everything but the answer is still the same so, don’t include me in your plans, Excuse me.”

They both stared at you in disbelief as you carried your tray and stood up, before turning and walking away. After putting your utensils in their place you left the cafeteria. As you walked to class, Nara’s words rang in your head. You spent the rest of the day dozing off that you almost got detention twice.

You were recalling everything that happened for the past few months. From the first day you met Jeno. It was in the summer vacation when your parents had a business trip so you had to stay at Chenle’s house, your cousin. You and Chenle were freshmen at that time, and unlike you, he managed to get a group of friends as he got accepted in the basketball team, while you still didn’t have a friend at school. Their whole gang used to meet at Chenle’s house to hang out, play games and all sort of boy stuff. And as you were staying there, you got to see them a lot. You always stayed in your room and minded your own business, until that day when you were so bored and you couldn’t sleep. So you decided to go check what they were doing and you saw them playing computer games. You stood behind the door watching them, before you were seen by Jeno when he saw you on his way to the toilet. You apologized and turned to walk to your room but he offered you to stay and play with them. And that’s how you spent your summer vacation.

You became close to all of them, spending time together. They considered you as their little sister and for you they were your older brothers. Until that day when everyone fell a sleep watching a movie in Jeno’s house. You and Jeno were the ones who stayed awake and kept conversing together. You talked about all sorts of stuff including your love lives, when he told you about his relationship with Hyerin and how she dumped him for no reason. You realized that you actually like Jeno a little more that just a brother. You loved spending time with him, talking and playing. Little by little you developed a crush on him, but you kept it to yourself.

Then two weeks before the end of vacation, you were already back in your house, when you received a text from Jeno, to meet them at the park in your neighborhood. You walked to the park thinking everyone will be there. But when you got there you only found Jeno, confused but happy though you walked to him.

“I like you Y/N,” He told you shyly before you could even open your mouth. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?” He asked looking in your eyes.

You were speechless, you couldn't believe that that he had the same feelings for you.

“Yes, I’d love to.” You answered smiling and nodded.

His expression was surprised but turned into a huge smile before pulling you closer and kissing you. You heard shouts and whistles and clapping, you pulled away to see all the boys including Chenle coming out of their hiding spots. That was also the day you first met Nara and Dasom.

Everything was fine between you until school came, you are now a sophomore and he is a junior, so are all of them except for Mark who is a senior and Chenle became a sophomore too., while Jisung is still a freshman.

It was going so well for the first few weeks, but as days went by, the differences between you two  became visible and it became more and more difficult for you to stay up to your position as Jeno’s girlfriend.

He was the outgoing, handsome, popular and athletic type, his world was full of basketball matches, weekend parties and girls swooning over him. As for you, you weren’t that much of a nerd but you weren’t the popular type either. You were a little bit introvert, and you were not into sports in any way, you even hate when you were forced to assist In PE classes.

Jeno didn’t mind it though, he loved you for who you are and he didn’t try to force you into his world. But despite his efforts you still had to deal with some of it.

Your thoughts were cut by the bell ringing. You walked out of class with heavy steps, you walked out of the building to see Jeno standing next to the school gate. You picked up your pace and headed towards him, he lifted his eyes and smiled widely when he saw you.

“Hey, baby girl.” He said wrapping his arms around you as soon as you reached him.

“Hey you,” You smiled wrapping your arms around him too. “I thought you only have two classes on Monday.” You frowned as you both pulled away from the hug and started walking to Jeno’s car.

You were surprised to see him waiting for you. As Your schedule was packed , his schedule had only a couple of classes.

“Yeah, but we didn’t get to spend time together today so I thought we can go home together.” He said smiling and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You smiled back scooting closer to him and wrapping your arm around his waist.

The ride home was full of random conversations about how was your day and his practice and the upcoming events of the week.

“Oh By the way, Nara and Dasom spent lunch time with me today.” You said, he frowned keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “Really? How did it go?” Jeno asked, he knew you were still not that comfortable around the girlfriends of his friends.

“It was fine..” You paused, “Actually Nara was gathering us to plan things for the Final match.”

“Oh yeah, that ‘girlfriends’ tradition’ thing.” He chuckled. “Girlfriends’ tradition?” You scoffed and he nodded, “Yes, they match outfits and make banners and stuff to cheer their boyfriends, it’s kinda embarrassing but we actually like it.” He smirked and you turned to him

“You like it?” You scoffed raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He laughed and nodded.

You smiled looking out of the window as you remembered what Nara told you today, and you couldn’t help but ask.

“Did Hyerin follow the girlfriends’ tradition too?” You mumbled looking out of the window again. You thought your voice was low enough for him to not hear you, but he did.

“Yes she did.” His voice came cutting the silence, you looked at him to see him frowning, “But then she became a cheerleader and didn’t do it anymore,” He continued.

You regretted asking the question, but you couldn’t help it, you had to get the whole thing out of your head. He pulled in front of your house. You opened the door to get out of the car but he stopped you by holding your hand.

“Look Y/N,” He said as he intertwined his fingers with yours, “It seems like your girly discussion today had so much more than planning for the match day.” He said softly looking at you. “I don’t know what exactly did they tell you but, I don’t want you to do something you are not comfortable with, just because my ex or the other girlfriends did it alright?” He said gazing in your eyes.

“Alright.” You muttered and nodded and he smiled.

“See you tomorrow, baby.” He said before giving you a peck on the lips and you smiled.

“See you.” You replied as you walked out of the car and walked towards your house, hearing his car drive away.

****

The next day, you woke up with a massive headache. You spent most of the night thinking about everything with both the words of Jeno and the girls repeating in your head. You walked through the school gate with one thing on your mind.

You are going to follow the ‘Girlfriends’ tradition’

You ran through the hall way, searching for Nara, you stumbled upon Dasom,  “Dasom, have you seen Nara?” You ran to Dasom as soon as you saw her. “She’s already went to the classroom, why?” She frowned and you smiled thankfully. “Nothing, Thank you.” You said before running again, this time to the Junior’s classroom.

“Nara!” You called her name entering the class.

She was at the back of the class, talking with Jaemin and she was leaning on his desk, While the latter sat on his chair. You walked to them, trying to ignore the gazes from the other students.

“Nara~yah!” You called her and both her and Jaemin stopped talking and looked at you.

“Hey, Y/n.” She greeted you with a smile as she turned to you. “Can I talk to you for a second?” You asked awkwardly. “Yeah sure.” She replied giving you a sweet smile. “I will be back,” She told Jaemin and he nodded. Then she hopped from the desk and kissed him before walking with you out of class.

“Look, I’ve thought everything over and..” You paused, took a deep breath “And?” She sighed, crossing her arms against her chest.

“I’m going to the match.”

Nara smiled widely, “Oh my god, finally Y/N!” She exclaimed holding her head with her hands. “But what about your group meeting?” She asked frowning.

“Oh, don’t worry I will manage.” You smiled at her the continued, “Just listen, I don’t know what am I supposed to do or what should I wear andــ” She cut you off.

“Don’t worry, I will take care of that!” She grinned, “Do you want me to pick you up?” She asked, “Oh, yeah that would be awesome.” You nodded smiling.

“Alright, just make sure to be ready by 4:00 PM.” She said. “Okay, thank you,” You said smiling sincerely and she smiled.

“You’re welcome.” She replied before hugging you. “Okay, now go or you’ll be late.” She said pulling away from the hug, you nodded and waved at her before walking away.

*******

At lunch time you ran to the library.

“Yeeun!” You whisper-yelled walking to her as she sat on one of the tables.

Yeeun was the only one in your class that you were familiar with, you weren’t friends but more like study partners and now she was the leader of your group project.

“Y/n, how are you?” She smiled as she saw you. “I’m fine, thank you,” You replied rapidly, grabbing a the chair next to her and sitting down.

“Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I won’t be able to attend the meeting tomorrow, soـــ” You started but she cut you off.

“No, Y/N, we need to finish our project before next week and tomorrow everyone is supposed to present the progress they made on their parts.” She stated firmly.

“I know,” You emphasized trying to keep your voice down, “But what if I finished my part and handed it over to you tomorrow?” You asked and immediately regretted it.

How are you supposed to finish all this work in one day you freaking idiot! You thought to yourself, she stayed silent for a few seconds probably thinking then she looked at you.

“Deal... If you handed your part in the research tomorrow, you can skip tomorrow’s meeting, but if you don’t you’re going to come and I won’t take any excuses alright?” She warned.

You smiled widely at her nodding, “Don’t worry I won’t let you down.” You said enthusiastically before standing up and leaving the library. You were so happy that your plan was going so well that you almost forgot how much work you got yourself in.

****

Wednesday 7:45 AM (The day of the match)

You woke up to the sound of your alarm. You reached to close it but instead you knocked the phone off, groaning, you lifted your self up and reached for it on the ground. Successfully shutting it down you open your eyes to see what time is it.

“Holy shit!” You jumped out of your bed and ran to the bathroom.

Turns out your alarm have been ringing for an hour now and you were too fast a sleep to hear it. You put on your uniform messily and started packing your bag, making sure to stuff in everything. Before running down stairs and out of the house.

You took a taxi and payed the driver before running into the school. You thanked god that your first period was history, because you were Mr. Lee’s favorite student and he won’t scold you or give you detention. You entered the class after apologizing and like you expected he didn’t scold you. You sat on your desk focusing on the board for a few minutes before sleep took over you.

****

“Y/N.. Y/N wake up!” You felt someone shaking you. You opened your eyes, looking at the person and saw Yeeun.

“Hey,” You said sleepily, realisng you were still in class you sat back, stretching before looking at her.

“This is the first time I see you sleeping in class what happened?” She asked worriedly

“Oh it’s nothing,” You yawned, “I was just up all night doing the research and speaking of it, here you go.” You reached your hand in your bag and got a big file out.

“At the end you will find additional notes, thought you might want to include it.” You shrugged and handed it to her, she opened it and gave it a look before her eyes widened.

“You did all that in one night?! Oh my god Y/N why?!” She frowned still scanning the papers.

“I have to go to my boyfriend’s match.” You said before standing up. “Oh, how lucky he is to have someone like you.” Yeeun mumbled and you smiled.

“Now may I be spared today leader Yee?” You bowed dramatically.

“Yes, yes you may.” She replied as you both laughed before giving her a hug and waving goodbye.

****

You were sitting on your bed waiting for Nara to come pick you up. She told you to wear a regular outfit as you were going to change in the school. You wore a skinny dark jeans, a grey shirt and a white denim jacket, you heard your phone buzzing and you checked the text, it was from Jeno

“One hour till the start of the match, wish me luck!”

You read the text smiling, poor Jeno doesn’t know what you’re planning, you quickly replied to his text not wanting to be suspicious.

“I’m sure you will win, fighting!”

A few minutes later you heard the honking of a car. You jumped up grabbing your bag and running down stairs.

“Hurry up!” Nara shouted as you closed the door and ran to the car. And as soon as you got in she drove away.

Twenty minutes later, she parked the car in the school parking lot, you two got out, she pulled a huge bag out of the car’s trunk before you ran inside the school.

“Seom Seom!” Nara shouted as you entered the schools bathroom.

“Do you know for how long I’ve been waiting here for you two?” Dasom said angrily crossing her arms, “I know I’m sorry.” Nara apologised as she opened the bag and started getting stuff out.

“Here you go Y/N, that’s yours.” She said giving you a small bag, “And that’s for Seom Seom,” She turned and gave Dasom another bag like yours. “And those are mine, now hurry!” She said and went inside the bathroom to change.

You got into the bathroom and changed into the outfit Nara gave you then you stepped out. Your outfit was a white A-line skirt and a red off shoulder top, you actually liked it. A few seconds later both of them stepped out with outfits matching with yours, Nara’s outfit was white shorts with a red crop-top, while Dasom’s was a circle white skirt with a halter red top.

“Shout out Nara, you nailed it.” Dasom said checking herself in the mirror.

“Thank you,” Nara replied bowing proudly before walking to you. “Let’s not do the regular ponytail today shall we?” Nara came from behind and reached to you hair removing you hair tie and making your hair fall on your shoulders. She fixed it with her fingers.

“Oh my god I can’t wait to see Jeno’s reaction!” She whispered enthusiastically as she adjusted your outfit and you laughed at her.

“Now just to make sure, when Mark say ‘Yo Dream’ we say?” She asked,

“Jjak Jjak fighting!” You smirked and Nara smiled happily.

“Now, we’re good to go.” Nara smiled as you three left the bathroom.

****

You three took seats in the front row of the bleachers. Nara and Dasom were immersed in their conversation about last year’s final match while you just observed your surroundings.

Little by little the place started to get crowded as students from both schools filled the bleachers. The door opened and the cheerleaders came in.

Now you know why are you dressed in red and white. The cheerleaders outfit was red shorts/skirts and white tops. They were all so pretty. You spotted Hyerin right away when she entered, and suddenly you felt nervous as hell.

Nara noticed the change in your expression. “Hey,” she said softly and you turned to her. “I made you this,” She said handing you a decorated banner with Jeno’s name and number on it.

“Oh thank you.” You smiled to her thankfully and she smiled back nodding.

“It’s kinda embarrassing, but we actually like it.”

Jeno’s voice rang in your head now that you understood what he meant as you observed the banner. Suddenly everyone started screaming, you were startled and looked around you and saw both basketball teams entering the hall.

You spotted Jeno right away, he was walking next to Mark. As the whole team was waving for their supporters. Jeno didn’t notice you though as your hair was hiding part of your face. But both Jaemin and Mark spotted their girlfriends right away, giving them special heart signs. While Jeno just went and sat on the bench waiting to get called by their coach.

****

After a few boring minutes of your school’s principal giving a speech, it was time for the cheerleaders of both teams to step in. You started getting comfortable with the atmosphere with every second, you watched as the cheerleaders team of your school led by Hyerin go out on the court and the music started playing. Although you hated the whole idea, you were proud of their performance.

You kept observing Hyerin, she was moving so good and slaying every move, but when you looked at her face you saw that she wasn’t taking her eyes off Jeno. You felt anger creeping on you, you tried to calm down yourself but it was an absolute failure. After the cheerleaders of both schools finished their performances, and the two teams gathered with their coaches. You kept your eyes on Jeno.

“Get ready.” Nara said and you nodded and looked back on the Dream team, then Mark’s voice blew, “YO DREAM!”

You, Nara, Dasom, the rest of the team and every student from your school shouted in unison, “Jjak Jjak Fighting!”

Nara smiled and high-five you. You saw Jeno, Jaemin, Mark, Donghyuck, Chenle and entering the hall and the rest of the team sat down. The referee whistled and the match started.

Mark immediately caught the ball as the referee throw it and passed it to Donghyuck who ran to the other team’s goal but it was stopped by one of the Eagles. The other team ran to the Dream’s goal and despite all their efforts to cut the ball, the Eagles scored.

Cheers blew from the bleachers of the other team while groans and shouts filled yours. Dream reclaimed the ball and ran towards the Eagles’s goal. Jeno passed to Chenle who passed to Jaemin and he scored.

Nara stood up and screamed lifting her banner up, as your bleachers roared with cheers. “Did you see that?! That’s my boyfriend y’all!” She shouted and you laughed at her reaction.

***

The referee whistled declaring the end of the first quarter, Dream scored two times while the Eagles scored four. After a few minutes, the teams walked inside the hall once again and the second quarter started. Dream now had control as they passed the ball between them running to the Eagles basket, Chenle passed the ball to Jeno who avoided one of the Eagles’ and scored.

You felt a rush of excitement filing your body, you jumped up and screamed so loud that your screaming came higher than the rest of the cheers. As the members celebrated, Jeno spotted your banner as you stood up. You saw his confused expression before he focused back on the match.

It was two minutes till the end of the second quarter, the Eagles were leading with only one goal. Dream had control on the game again running to the other basket and passing the ball to each other. Jaemin was now running with the ball to the goal when one of the Eagles bumped into him throwing him on the ground. Jaemin fell hard on the ground with his left leg twisted under him. He held his leg in pain as the referee whistled and everyone ran to him.

Nara immediately jumped from beside you.

“You asshole! If any thing happens to my boyfriend I swear I will beat the fuckــ”

She was shouting on top of her lungs with so much anger that her face was the deepest shade of red. Dasom was quick to put her hand on her mouth and force her to sit down.

“Calm down Na, I’m sure he is okay,”  Dasom tried to comfort her.

A few seconds later everyone backed away revealing Jaemin being assisted by Chenle and Mark to the players’ bench. As the referee whistled giving the dream team a foul shot.

The bleachers roared with cheers, although you didn’t understand why but you just cheered with them. You saw Jeno getting ready with the ball at the three pointer. The random cheers front he crowd turned to two words “Lee Jeno”.

They kept clapping and calling his name cheering for him as you, Nara and Dasom joined in. He held the ball firmly and reached up before shooting and he scored. Once the ball went in the referee whistled ending the second quarter as the players left the hall again. Nara stood up and jumped past the seats and ran down stairs to the players bench.

You saw her running to Jaemin, her face was all worried, she sat beside him and spoke to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close for a hug.

“I think you should go down too,” Dasom told you. You looked at her and saw her pointing to the other bench. You followed her finger and saw Jeno standing and talking with Renjun and Hyerin was walking up to them.

You hurriedly stood up and excused yourself pushing through people until you reached the stairs before you ran down rapidly. You adjusted yourself before speed walking to Jeno. Hyerin was just approaching them when you called

“Jeno~yah!” He looked at you and his reaction was so surprised that he didn’t notice Hyerin approaching him.

“Y/N?!” He smiled widely as he walked to you engulfing you in a hug, “Oh my god you came!” He exclaimed still can’t believe that you came to cheer him on.

“Of course I came!” You said awkwardly before looking at Hyerin who was right behind him.

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t come to my boyfriend’s match?”

You made sure to say it loudly so Hyerin can hear, you pulled away and he gave you a confused look, and you saw Haerin backing away. The coast is cleared and your plan has succeeded, the coach called the team, so you left Jeno and went back to your seat.

*****

The match ended with Dream winning with thirteen points more than the Eagles. You felt proud of the team specially Jeno who scored at least half of the goals. As the team went to change, you Dasom and Nara stayed in your seats talking.

“Oh my god I have a huge headache!” You groaned, “Don’t worry, it’s just the first match but then you will get used to it.” Dasom told you.

“Come on, let’s go to the boys.” Nara said before standing up. “Wait but...”  You started but they were both already walking out. You sighed and followed them., you left the court and went to the changing rooms.

“We can’t go in!” You protested.

"Come on Y/N, don’t be shy, plus this is a part of the girlfriend’s tradition.” Nara stated smirking. “To walk in on your boyfriends changing?!” You exclaimed making them crack up.

“No it’s.. Just come.” She grabbed your arm and you three got in the room.

“Oh my god!”

You covered your eyes with your hands as the room was full of shirtless boys. You were following her through the room looking down, until she stopped you.

“Wait here,” She said before she turned. “Yah Lee Jeno! Your shy girlfriend is here.”

You opened your eyes as she left your arm and walked away. You followed her with your eyes as she walked to Jaemin and without any warning they started making out in the corner.

Your face turned red and you looked away,

You saw Mark and Dasom talking with each other while the half of the guys where flexing their muscles and talking and the others were showing off in front of a bunch of cheerleaders.

Just before you realised a firm hand was placed on the locker beside your waist as a shirtless Jeno stood trapping you between him and the locker.

“Hi love,” He smiled as he reached with his other hand to grab a t-shirt from his locker.

“Hey,” You gulped as he was so close to you. He put on his T-shirt quickly before closing the locker and turning to you.

“Oh my god, how can you be so beautiful?” He wondered, gazing in your eyes as he pushed your hair out of your face, you blushed looking away but he gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“By the way, I liked what you did back there.” He winked at you and you gave him a confused look. “B-back there?” You questioned. “Yeah, what you said in front of Hyerin,” He replied. You smiled awkwardly now realising how childish what you did was.

“I still can’t believe you did that girlfriends’ tradition thing.” He scoffed jokingly.

“I couldn’t stand someone else cheering you on and celebrating your goals besides me.” You shrugged frankly trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Alright since you decided to follow it, then you have to follow it til the end,” He said mischievously. “We’re not done yet?!” You exclaimed making him laugh.

“No there is still one last thing.. The changing room kiss.” He whispered and before you could say anything he pressed his lips to yours. You couldn’t help but kiss back, he put your hands around his neck then sneaked his hands around your waist and his hands traveled to your thighs,

“Jump,” Jeno whispered huskily, and you obeyed, your legs now were wrapped around his waist. He stepped to the back a little so now your back was supported by the lockers.

You smiled through the kiss forgetting everything around you,  your hand laced through his hair as he deepened the kiss. You pulled away when you were both out of breath, to hear clapping and whistles from everyone in the room. You shyly hid your face in Jeno’s neck.

“Oh My god! Finally!” Renjun yelled, “He has been planning it for months,” Jaemin smirked.

“Alright Dream,” Mark voice rang through the room. “We have a huge ass party to catch on.”

Everyone took their stuff and started heading out. “Come on love birds,” Nara told you as she and Jaemin headed out.

“If you don’t want to go, it’s fine, we can go celebrate alone.” Jeno suggested and you shook your head. “Um... No, I think I want to go to their party,” You said and he smiled at you as he slowly put you down.

“Alright, let’s go!” He yelled wrapping his arm around your shoulder. As you followed the others.

Best day of you life. Check

Written by: Jade 🌸 I hope you liked it.

[hb-writes]

Ignored Advice

Summary: Part II of the Alphabetical Outcast Series. Sylvie (OC) is the eldest child of Hugo Bridgerton, a cousin raised alongside the infamous Bridgerton brood. Born in-between Daphne and Eloise, Sylvie has made it her mission to delay her season again and again. As her deadline to put a stop to her entering the marriage mart this year approaches, Benedict gives his cousin a little pep talk. 

Characters: Sylvie Bridgerton (OC) & Benedict Bridgerton

Bridgerton Appreciation Week Prompt: Do it, be bold.

Part I - The Firstborns - Sylvie Bridgerton & Anthony Bridgerton

Part II - Ignored Advice - Sylvie Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton

--

Benedict caught Sylvie’s approaching palm half a moment before it collided with his shoulder, her attempted slap and the groaning of his name an exaggerated response to his sudden presence in the garden she believed to be occupying all on her own, a rather silly assumption seeing as it was nearly impossible to singly inhabit a single space in Bridgerton House, not with ten children, if you could still refer to them that way, regularly milling about its halls and grounds. Even with several of them being married or having their own quarters, the house never seemed empty or quiet.

Suffice to say, Sylvie shouldn’t have been surprised that someone had come upon her in the middle of her endeavor to forge a dirt patch into the perfect lawn with her incessant pacing. 

“Don’t do that!” she shouted at Benedict’s playful grin, freeing her hand from his grip to swat at him again as her heartbeat slowed. “You’re always sneaking about.”

Despite being a large man and the tallest of the Bridgerton brothers, Benedict was quiet and he moved in ways that weren’t always noticed, blending in as the color green could do among certain shades of blue, or a pink among certain purples. Somewhere along the line, he had taken a certain liking to using his natural stealth to rile his siblings and cousins.

“I have just as much of a right to enjoy my mother’s lovely flowers as you have.” 

Some would argue that Benedict Bridgerton had more of a right to occupy the space, that as second in line to the title, it was nearly his garden, and the cousin whose thoughts he had interrupted had not a single claim on the flora, but Benedict had no interest in his claim. He’d happily settle for being second in line.

“What are you so worked up over this morning?” he asked when his comment received nothing but a return to pacing, the space over which she marched stunted by a few steps due to his presence. 

“Who says I’m worked up?”

Gregory and George and Hyacinth had told him so over his eggs, but Benedict had no plans to tell Sylvie that, and he had no need to seeing as she’d just swatted at him, supplying him with plenty of evidence to support his accusation. Benedict simply raised his eyebrows and gave her a gentle smile, something not quite as smug as a smirk gracing his lips. 

It took only a moment for Sylvie to give in, her shoulders heaving as she took a seat on the bench, hiding her face in her hands while Benedict moved to occupy the space beside her.

“I suppose I’m not so subtle.” 

Benedict snorted at that. Bridgertons weren’t very good with subtleties. They communicated more in grand gestures and loud declarations, even the passive aggressive moments were rambunctious and obvious in nature, with silent treatments emphasized by the blatant actions that accompanied them. 

“I shouted at the little ones over breakfast,” Sylvie offered. “They were being dreadfully vexatious. I couldn’t help myself.”

Benedict nodded. The kids towed a fine line between entertaining and exasperating. It had once been them getting chastised for their boisterous nature at the breakfast table, and some mornings it still was, but more often it was the youngest set with their endless source of energy primarily used for running about and arguing and shouting. He didn’t really fault her for a little outburst. 

“And my deadline is approaching,” she mumbled.

“Deadline?” 

Sylvie rolled her eyes.

“Now Ben, don’t pretend Anthony hasn’t already told you,” she answered, figuring that Anthony had pulled his brother into his office at the earliest opportunity after their last discussion. “I suppose he’s employed you to convince me to give this up and fall in line.”

Sylvie was surprised the whole lot of her elder cousins hadn’t descended upon her to bring her along to Anthony’s way of thinking. She had been expecting conversations with each of them, but the subject hadn’t been raised since she left Anthony’s office nearly two weeks before. 

Benedict leaned back as he set his ankle over his knee. “Well, I must admit you having your season would go a long way in helping my dear mother forget that she has a marriageable son.”

“But?” Sylvie prompted.

“But I understand your plight.” 

Society acted as if a woman’s life didn’t begin until one was married, until one was a wife and a mother, but to Sylvie marriage felt like an end, like the death of some part of her she hadn’t even gotten a proper grasp on yet, a part of her she felt certain was a part she rather liked. She wasn’t ready to let it go.

It didn’t make any difference to see that her married cousins were deeply in love, seemingly changed only for the better by the matches they’d made because Sylvie didn’t trust the odds of that sort of happiness for herself.

Of course, much of the married Ton kept up appearances, seemingly content in their hastily made matches, but Sylvie didn’t trust appearances either. 

Appearances showed a world of people happy, a world of people content with their station and society and their lot in life, but she knew well enough that most people weren’t happy. Most people didn’t receive a true love match. Most people didn’t have a life that showcased the things they truly loved. Most people had lives that showcased the things society expected, the majority of people more engrossed with impressions and opinions of society than anything else. 

The Ton smiled and danced and wed, but beneath all that was a layer of torment. 

Sylvie knew Benedict understood that, knew they had a bit of shared appreciation for that bit of truth because Sylvie knew of his art, had seen the remarkable portraits he’d done of each of them, and though Benedict hadn’t been able to take her complimentary words to heart, hadn’t been ready to really accept praise for his art, Sylvie knew they shared a certain understanding about the world.

Sylvie envied Benedict a bit for knowing what his passion was when she had neither knowledge nor the ability to act on such a thing, and furthermore, she begrudged her cousin just a bit for not acting on it, for keeping his talents and desires hidden, for keeping up the very appearances they knew were expected.

“So, you can speak with—” 

“Anthony? Oh, no. Definitely not,” Benedict said.

“But you—”

“I haven’t convinced Anthony of a single thing in my entire life. I can’t imagine I’ll have any luck where you haven’t.”

“You're his brother.”

“And you’re his favorite cousin.” 

“I believe George is everyone’s favorite.” 

“Well, George is a bit easier to manage, I suppose,” Benedict said, tilting his head back and forth as he considered it, his face scrunched a bit. “A more of a charming demean—”

The heel of Sylvie’s palm made contact with her cousin’s shoulder again, a barking laugh pouring from Benedict’s lips as he nudged her back. 

“You prove the point far more often than you’re aware.”  

“Yes, and that’s all the more reason for me to not enter society. I’m afraid I’m simply not ready, not well-behaved enough.” 

Benedict hummed. “Yes, Anthony did mention you were exploring that angle.”

“I’m not exploring any angles,” she answered. “It’s simply my natural charm, as you’ve just said.” 

“Maybe use some of that charm on my mother, then. Present your case? Prove your point? You know she’s the one who needs the convincing. If she agrees, Anthony has no choice.” 

Sylvie shook her head. “I’m not ready.” 

“To tell mother or to marry?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Both, I suppose.”

Benedict set a hand on her shoulder. “Do it at the weekend, then. Wait until she’s relaxed, away from everything reminding her of the impending season. Present your argument then. You may recall a rather wise Bridgerton once said ‘do it, be bold.’ I believe the same words apply here.” 

Sylvie snorted, unable to prevent herself from smiling at the memory of late summer nights passed on the swings with Benedict and Eloise, cigarettes passed between the three of them and a handful of secrets too. 

“If I recall, you ignored that wise Bridgerton’s perfectly splendid advice because you’re an absolute fool who refuses to see reason.”

Benedict’s eyebrows shot up, but an easy smile held on his face as he shook his head. 

“Ah, yes, and there we have your natural charm on display once again.” 

[phykios]

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now. 

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really. 

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them. 

God damn she’s a fucking idiot. 

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous. 

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.” 

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne. 

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented. 

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air… 

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before. 

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern. 

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?” 

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake. 

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation. 

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects. 

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate. 

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.” 

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints. 

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father. 

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss. 

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter. 

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye. 

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces. 

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin. 

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day. 

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards. 

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.” 

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden. 

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls. 

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns. 

A huge mistake. 

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.” 

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.” 

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.” 

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son. 

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?” 

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says. 

“Zoe?” 

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod. 

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head. 

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself. 

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her. 

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying. 

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.” 

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy. 

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy. 

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.” 

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet. 

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable. 

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more. 

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too. 

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always. 

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident. 

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something? 

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s. 

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.” 

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest. 

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.” 

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry. 

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked. 

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--” 

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face. 

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.” 

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly. 

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up. 

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.” 

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees. 

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still. 

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover. 

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying. 

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.” 

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath. 

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth. 

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?” 

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.” 

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”   

She spins on her heels, and walks away. 

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.” 

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go. 

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.   

Her stomach rolls again. 

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.” 

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much. 

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him. 

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on. 

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster. 

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.” 

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.” 

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says. 

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable. 

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.” 

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.” 

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays. 

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help. 

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall. 

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting. 

Two voices she knows intimately. 

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock. 

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again. 

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head. 

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.” 

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less. 

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside. 

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly. 

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it. 

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not. 

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier. 

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again. 

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” 

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf. 

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying. 

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain. 

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully. 

Good. He’s gone. 

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick. 

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out. 

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror. 

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

[stevesharrlngtons]

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader 

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft 

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing 

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT. 

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable. 

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments. 

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight. 

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance. 

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it. 

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart. 

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion. 

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past. 

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully. 

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches. 

“Yeah? And who told you that?” 

“Destiny.” 

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.” 

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.” 

You roll your eyes at the compliment. 

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued. 

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name. 

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy. 

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.” 

“Enlighten me anyway.” 

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.” 

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman. 

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm. 

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile. 

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture. 

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again. 

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point. 

“That is usually the deal, yes.” 

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.” 

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown. 

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug. 

“Still, he was your dad.” 

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.” 

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated. 

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register. 

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.” 

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier. 

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up. 

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill. 

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes. 

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love. 

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat. 

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke. 

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.” 

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering. 

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary. 

Peter belows a raspberry in response. 

You looked over to glare at him, “What?” 

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap. 

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.” 

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more. 

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff. 

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.” 

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin. 

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained. 

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.” 

“Then what happened?” 

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security. 

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…” 

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette. 

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today. 

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight. 

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was. 

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to. 

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile. 

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you. 

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip. 

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side. 

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit. 

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt. 

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued. 

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase. 

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling. 

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested. 

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word. 

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met. 

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves? 

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want. 

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.” 

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up. 

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare. 

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him. 

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste. 

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.” 

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly. 

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last. 

“Well, she isn’t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue. 

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present. 

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered. 

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Roman spat. 

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.” 

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!” 

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him. 

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia. 

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-” 

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman. 

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods. 

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn. 

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same. 

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends. 

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her. 

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you. 

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward. 

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered. 

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out. 

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway. 

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house. 

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed. 

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders. 

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer. 

“Since when?” 

“Since now.” 

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose. 

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside. 

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar. 

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him. 

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years. 

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat. 

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit. 

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?” 

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back. 

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you. 

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles. 

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears. 

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated. 

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?” 

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.” 

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears. 

“With you. Yes.” 

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home. 

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick. 

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod. 

“So, that was it?” 

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.” 

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare. 

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface. 

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,” 

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.” 

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.” 

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.” 

“New York that good, then?” 

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.” 

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak. 

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest. 

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.” 

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter. 

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it. 

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.   

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it. 

“Never again.” 

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens. 

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door. 

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again. 

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school. 

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.” 

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house. 

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic. 

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question. 

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear. 

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately. 

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath. 

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it. 

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option. 

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry. 

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock. 

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up. 

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him. 

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you. 

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head. 

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.” 

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems. 

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door. 

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar. 

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible. 

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door. 

And Roman continued to keep it open. 

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them. 

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone. 

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood. 

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay. 

“You already have.” 

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door. 

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.” 

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage. 

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over. 

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?” 

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.” 

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good. 

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you. 

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life. 

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed. 

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars. 

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.” 

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink. 

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven. 

Anything Roman did to you was heaven. 

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did. 

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented. 

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.” 

“You know if he’s any good?” 

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled. 

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him. 

He was already looking at you. 

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”     

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees. 

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand. 

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t. 

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts. 

“Good. I really like it.” 

“Enjoying your studies?” 

“Very much.” 

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?” 

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.” 

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room. 

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon. 

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise. 

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?” 

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers. 

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap. 

“Not really.” 

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate. 

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself. 

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence. 

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him. 

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?” 

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.” 

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs. 

“Not really your business.” You counter. 

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice. 

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you. 

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips. 

“Ask you what?” 

“If I’m seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t care, Roman.” 

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer. 

“How would you define it?” 

“Different from you.” 

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.” 

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired. 

Roman doesn’t answer. 

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.” 

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…” 

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else. 

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder. 

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten. 

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts. 

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow. 

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells. 

“So it is option C.” You replied. 

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?” 

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers. 

“I already concluded that.” 

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms. 

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.” 

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth. 

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection. 

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.” 

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.” 

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly. 

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you. 

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that. 

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut. 

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips. 

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart. 

“Tell me why you hurt me first.” 

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment. 

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose. 

“I’ve got time.” 

“It’s not pretty.” 

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him. 

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust. 

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin. 

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.” 

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod. 

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?” 

“Stop making jokes.” He growled. 

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him. 

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?” 

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-” 

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks. 

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.” 

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked. 

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. 

“Stop, Roman...” 

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes. 

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.” 

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul. 

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly. 

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable. 

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months. 

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.  

“What time is the funeral?” He asked. 

“10 AM.” You replied. 

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him. 

“I’ll be there.” 

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.” 

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.” 

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche. 

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway. 

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now. 

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night. 

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong. 

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it. 

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become. 

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back. 

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips. 

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you. 

It was over. 

Then why were you so sad? 

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him. 

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come. 

Because he cared. 

Because he loved you. 

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest. 

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.” 

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you. 

“I needed you and you knew and you came.” 

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.” 

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you. 

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you. 

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company. 

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone. 

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug. 

“It’s OK. You have time.” 

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown. 

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm. 

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.” 

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek. 

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch. 

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?” 

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?” 

“Wherever you are.” 

You smile, “Then take me there.” 

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.   

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you. 

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…” 

“You hate it.” 

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly. 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” 

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a  victorian novel.” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.” 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?” 

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia. 

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject. 

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room. 

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back. 

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.  

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch. 

“Vodka cranberry?” 

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.” 

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.” 

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out. 

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one. 

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.” 

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.” 

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world. 

“Me too.” 

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions. 

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?” 

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night. 

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself. 

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled. 

“That was a really good night.” You said. 

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.” 

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his. 

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of. 

“No, it really isn’t.” 

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished. 

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you. 

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you. 

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes. 

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down. 

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible. 

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you. 

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them. 

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath. 

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.” 

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin. 

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.” 

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty. 

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son. 

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb. 

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart. 

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat. 

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time. 

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.” 

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend. 

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke. 

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth. 

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman. 

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?” 

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room. 

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent. 

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks. 

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father. 

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he? 

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb. 

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities. 

“What?” 

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.” 

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.     

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you. 

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back. 

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.” 

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully. 

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips. 

It was the first time you realized you loved him. 

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road. 

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I forgive you.” You really did. 

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest. 

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.” 

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before. 

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one. 

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours. 

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper. 

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had. 

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door. 

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin. 

“My baby,” He said to your skin. 

“My girl,” He groaned. 

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” 

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive. 

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop. 

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss. 

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.” 

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with. 

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.” 

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.” 

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you. 

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront. 

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.” 

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow. 

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies. 

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily. 

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued. 

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.” 

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger. 

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak. 

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!” 

“Roman,” You sigh. 

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.” 

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you. 

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear. 

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him. 

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well. 

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers. 

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.” 

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off. 

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,” 

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.” 

“Baby,” You choke out. 

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return. 

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states. 

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly. 

“Roman, just-” 

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?” 

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t. 

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact. 

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” 

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze. 

“I love the city…” 

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal. 

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands. 

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.” 

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears. 

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again. 

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements. 

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said: 

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

[cupcakemolotov]

Road to Ruin

I... have no idea where this came from. But hey, I’ll take almost 2K of story after a drought of words. SFW, character death, probably some angst. You can read it here on A03 if you prefer.

                                                            -

Caroline had missed the Memorial Service.

Finals at NYU had been brutal, her schedule packed and tangled tightly together after a truly unfair back to back testing schedule. She’d wanted nothing more than to climb into her lumpy dorm bed and sleep for a week, but she’d promised Bonnie she’d try to make it.

She hadn’t.

But that was the fault of May storms and erratic flight schedules, not her personal choice. By the time her mom picked her up in Richmond, five hours late and dragging with exhaustion no number of espresso shots could perk up, it was dark and raining. She’d fallen asleep in the car, dragged herself into the house, and had just enough energy to change before diving into her bed for the sleep she’d been missing for what felt like weeks.

Elena was dead.

The news had come five days before finals, and after sobbing her eyes out on her RA’s shoulder, she’d pulled herself together and buried herself in all night study sessions and endless equations. But the knowledge had lingered, that this friend of hers who had grown so distant the last year, more distant than any amount of school schedules and new friends could allow for when Caroline was a devout texter, was gone. She’d cried in the shower, for the girl who she’d once known and would never know again.

Shifting her weight on the damp grass, Caroline studied the freshly dug grave. The last few years before graduation hadn’t been good for their friendship, High School having been a roller coaster of drama and boys that was expected, she supposed. But if only that had been the only drama, she was certain they wouldn't have grown so far away from each other. There had been that weird mass grave that someone had found that had kept her mom busy for months dealing with the locals and the FBI, the weird way the old boarding house had been repaired seemingly to open up only to remain empty. Those strangers who her mom had not liked who had asked questions about a couple of weird gravestones in the museum. That series of petty thefts that had kept her mom even busier than the mass grave and its collection of weird historians and FBI investigations, that had finally culminated in some family heirlooms being stolen from the Lockwoods.

Tyler had bitched for months about it. Weirdly, it had been those complaints that had been the deciding factor that had her breaking up with him. Yeah, the sex had been good, but a girl did not need pillow talk about family heirlooms and how upset his mom had been. Any boyfriend worth their salt (and teenage hormones) should have been far too distracted by her being naked right there, not their moms.

She shuddered a little, thinking about it.

The second half of their junior year had been a mess, and been made worse when Aunt Jenna had died. Caroline’s fingers tightened on the bouquet she was holding, thinking of all the deaths that had accumulated that year. Aunt Jenna. Her Dad. Carol Lockwood. How terrified she had been that her mom would end up next, logical or not.

Then there had been the way Elena had gone all weirdly obsessed with finding her biological parents, the way it had driven her as if it was something outside of herself she couldn't control. Caroline studied the tops of the flowers she held in her hand, wondering if not for the first time if she could have done something different. Been a better friend, helped Elena in some way. Those long weeks that first Christmas when Elena had decided to spend it alone, how she had refused to answer a single text message until she’d shown back up at school, dark circles under eyes like an underfed anemic.

She’d been… different, after that. Less boy crazy and more… mature. And that summer, she’d gone to meet a family claiming to be hers. And when she’d come home, she’d been so happy. Bouncing, sparkling happy. Cousins, she’d said. Brother’s and a sister who said that her mother had been theirs and they’d been looking for her.

Family.

That was what Caroline wanted to remember her. The girl who sat with her for hours after Bill died, both of them quiet, legs tangled on Caroline’s bed. The girl who liked board games and pink lipstick and who had terrible taste in shoes. Her friend. Not the girl from their Senior year who had slowly become something else entirely. Pale and wane, short tempered and then so, so quiet. The girl whose new family moved into Mansion at the edge of town that had been empty for decades, who paid for an expensive car and clothes and who never came to a single game to watch her cheer.

Letting out a slow breath, she set the flowers she’d brought down on the grave and chewed on her lower lip. People usually said things at graves, didn’t they? But she’d never been good at that sort of thing. Not at her Dad’s grave, and not here, standing over the bones of her friend. She’d brought daisy’s because Elena liked them, and she briefly closed her eyes, hoping that Elena knew she was here, that she missed her, and that even if she reached the old age of one hundred, she’d remember the night she and Elena and Bonnie had laughed until they cried over the most ridiculous of conversations, until they’d had to scramble to pretend they’d been sleeping when her mom came home at dawn after her shift.

That would be the Elena she’d take with her.

Swallowing hard, she turned on one heel and jerked to a stop, heart slamming into her throat as she found a man she didn’t recognize lingering far too close to her. He was only a few inches taller than her, but something about the utter stillness of his posture, the way she hadn’t heard him walk up behind her, her usual excellent sense of people taught by her mother and perfected in the subway system having failed to ping at her, left her breathless with surprise. For a moment, Caroline struggled to get her pulse under control before narrowing her eyes. “Excuse you, creepy much? Most people have the decency not to loom in graveyards.”

A sudden hint of a smile played across a distractingly full mouth, and he reached up and pushed his sunglasses up into his rumpled curls, something about the way he was looking at her sending the faintest hint of alarm down her spine. “Spend a lot of time in graveyards?”

“That is none of your business,” Caroline said, letting her voice frost over in disapproval.

“Apologies, love.” He said, body shifting from that hair raising awareness to a soft charm she might have liked if she hadn’t seen him looking at her like she was a particularly interesting bug. “I didn't recall seeing you at the funeral, and I’m sure I would have remembered you.”

Something about him, the way his eyes never left hers, put her back up. She hadn’t spent the last two years in New York City to let some weirdo stranger intimidate her now. “I don’t recognize you at all,” she said primly. “So that means you were fairly new to Elena’s life. Do you make a habit of memorizing faces at funerals? That seems like the sort of thing that would alarm a psychologist.”

The curve of his mouth deepened, and to her despair, he had dimples. “You must be Caroline Forbes. Ms. Bennett was disappointed that you missed the service.”

Caroline shrugged, stubbornly holding his gaze though it was starting to bother her that he didn’t blink. “May storms are a bitch. And neither Bonnie nor Elena mentioned anyone who would match your description.”

He looked intrigued. “Do you usually ask for physical descriptions of their acquaintances?”

“And pictures of their drivers licenses,” she retorted. “So that if they go missing, I know where to direct my mother to find them, but you're definitely not either of their types, and since you think you have some claim on Elena, that must mean you belong to the Mikaelson family. Which one are you?”

She didn't do much to hide what she thought of his family, and it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Smart,” he murmured. “I’m Klaus.” And then he offered her his hand, something like a challenge lingering at the back of his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caroline.”

It was a dare. And she was terrible at turning those down, even as her instincts warned her that there was something about this man she wasn’t seeing. But she was also standing twenty feet away from a number of her own dead relatives, and Grandma Forbes would haunt her forever if she was rude to this man in front of her. Baring her teeth in something like a smile, she took his hand. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

Laughter had lit his eyes a half moment before their skin touched, and something she couldn’t describe rolled down her spine. More sensation than feeling, she felt it down to her feet, and it left her pulse pounding. She pulled her hand back, too quick to be polite, but she didn’t care as she stared at the man who had gone still and so quietly dangerous, she was debating reaching for the pepper stray attached to her keys.

She could probably get it out and in his face before he lunged.

Maybe.

Klaus’ fingers had curled into his palm, as if he too had felt whatever that had been, and the blue of his eyes were doing something strange, and Caroline became intensely aware of everything around them. The buzz of summer insects, the shape of his stupidly plush mouth, the smell of fresh turned dirt. It was the near silent buzz of an incoming text that broke the staring contest between them. Senses hyper-alert, she pulled her phone out of her purse and saw that she had two missed calls from Bonnie. Glancing up from her lashes to find that Klaus hadn’t looked away, so she pasted on her best false smile and shrugged.

“Well, Klaus, I’m sure this is where I should say something polite about seeing you around, but that seems super unlikely,” Caroline said with a false shrug of disappointment. “So, I’ll just say bye instead.”

A lowering of his lashes, something behind his eyes that burned her skin. “Hmm, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we? The family has decided to stick around a bit longer, give ourselves time to mourn. You may be surprised how much you’ll see us.”

Caroline snorted and stepped around him. “History of your family’s willingness to grace the town with your presence says otherwise.” But because her grandma had raised her right, and was probably seriously judging her only granddaughter from the plot just a few feet away, she smiled and waved, just like her pageant days had taught her. And only when she was almost to her car, did she relax enough to look at her text.

And felt her heart drop to her toes.

I don’t think Elena is dead.

Brows tucking tightly together, she went through the motions of unlocking the car door, glancing back towards the man lingering in the graveyard. Klaus hadn't moved, except to slid his hands into his pockets and to turn to watch her. She could still feel the imprint of his fingers against hers, the heat and calluses of him, the shock of him down her spine. For a moment, she tried to remember what Elena had told her about her biological family, the people who went through all the right motions but never showed her friend the care she deserved. The brother’s who had been so considerate, and offered her anything money could buy but not a single ounce of affection. Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

Let him think what he wanted. She was fairly certain she’d never see him again. Klaus, who stood in graveyards in pressed slacks and rosaries around his throat. Something was going on there, and the last thing she needed was for him to turn out to be some kind of serial killer.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and set her teeth, only then allowing herself to really absorb what Bonnie had sent her. Not dead? What was Bonnie thinking? And if she was right, why would the Mikaelson’s lie?

Why bury Elena, fake or otherwise, with the ghosts if she wasn’t really dead?

[moral-turpitudes]

Silver Linings: Part 5

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts 

A/N: Don’t mind me I’m just over here hyperventilating bc of this gif. 

Trigger Warnings: Angst, FLUFF.

Word Count: 1,897

Characters: Michael Gray x Alfie’s Adopted Daughter!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | *Part 4* | Part 5

***Almost 1 year later:***

“Dear Y/N,

I hope this finds you well. I’m glad to hear things are still moving along at the shop. I think it’s great you’ve moved up in the business now that you don’t have to hide. A beautiful woman like yourself should never have to. In response to your last letter, I feel it’s important to tell you that I’ll be coming back soon, this week in fact. I know you’ve said you’ve waited for me and I can’t begin to describe how relieved I am to hear that. I’ve waited for this moment as well, and I’m counting down the days until we can meet again. I’m looking forward to whatever surprise you said you’d had.

All my love,

Michael.”

Her eyes scanned the letter as she curled up on her sofa, a tea cup nestled in her hands as her heart fluttered at the letter.

It had been almost a year since Thomas’ standoff with the mafia, leading to Luca and his men’s demise. Officially clearing her of any danger, at least for the time being.

She quickly went to the phone, calling her father who was most likely at the shop, recently raking in the dough so to speak, as his rum-running business was taking off, leading to a collaboration with Michael in New York.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know he’s coming home.” She said, the sound of the men shouting and working in the background.

“Who? The one you’ve been writing every week for the last year? Oh right what’s his name...Michael summin’ innit?” He asked, jokingly. She chuckled lightly as cries were heard from the other room.

“Yeah. I know it’s going to be tense but I’m going to need you on my side. You’ve helped me enough as it is since you felt bad after him leaving. I just need you to be on my side this time though, please?” She said.

He sighed as he thought about the last time he and Thomas had a nasty fight, knowing the new addition would force an unlikely truce between the family, one that Alfie was as hesitant to make as Tommy was. But it was needed, especially if they needed help in the long run. Each of their families coming too close to death since the standoff.

“Alright, I’ll play nice. But that’s just because I want to see that little one grow up happy you hear? I’ll ring Tommy and let him know if he doesn’t already.” He said.

“Thank you. I have to go, but I’ll come by after I uh...take care of this.” She said, knowing she had a world of explaining to do.

“Good luck, darling. I’ll see you both soon.” He said, the phone lines ending as the cries grew louder.

“Hello....Y/C/N (your child’s name) have a good nap aye? It’s okay. Shh.” She cooed as she bounced the little baby around. They were just a few months shy of their first birthday.

“You’re going to meet your father this week sweetheart. He’ll love you. I promise.” She said, carrying the little bundle into the living room as she listened to them babbling.

As the day drug on she realized the date on the letter read a few days ago, meaning Michael was most likely going to be there today.

“Christ....” she mumbled as she held the baby who looked more like their father each day.

Over the time that their child had been in the world, she’d grown to like Michael’s mother Polly. Becoming ever thankful to have someone who understood her plight at a young age. Polly hated that her nephew and her father tore them apart, but at the time it was the best thing to do. But when she noticed Y/N started getting sick after meeting with her on occasion, Polly had known. She knew just in the way she carried herself, and how her eyes sunk with the newfound exhaustion. She even read her tea leaves which Alfie was skeptical of at first, but she knew and it was true. After she’d found out, Y/N pondered over her weekly letters, wondering if she should tell him the sudden news, but she figured it was best to keep it to herself and the family for the baby’s safety. But now, since the threat from the Changretta’s were gone, and with the news of Michael’s arrival, she figured now was as good of a time as ever.

As the evening drew near, she put Y/C/N down for bed, praying that when we he did come, he didn’t wake them up.

After pouring herself a glass of wine, she heard a knock at the door, her heart racing as she opened it see Michael, holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“Told you I’d be back.” He said with a grin. He’d pretty much looked the same, except his fashion sense improved a bit. His hair more slicked back than usual and his eyes slightly more tired, but not as tired as her own.

She couldn’t say anything at first, just wrapping him into a long hug on her doorstep.

“My god I’m so glad to see you. I um....I have a surprise. I just....I don’t want you to be mad alright?” She said hurriedly as if he’d leave again.

“Aye slow down sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m not leaving anytime soon. Lemme look at you...Wow.” He said twirling her around, noticing the more prominent circles under her eyes and the way her hair was slightly disheveled. She was still as beautiful as he’d remembered.

“You look beautiful. Maybe a little tired, but just as beautiful as when I left.” He said, giving her a kiss that was long over-due.

“That’s why I wanted to show your surprise. I...I have a good explanation besides work picking up and all. Take a seat in the living room and try not to be too loud.” She said rather quietly as he entered the apartment.

He didn’t think much of it as he sat down in the familiar living room, his heart aching at how he’d left the same room so long ago. But his demeanor soon changed though as he saw the sleeping baby in Y/N’s arms, his mind racing with trying to figure out how and when, and unfortunately with whom this could’ve happened with.

“Michael, please don’t be mad. I uh...after you left-“ She began as he cut her off. His voice blank as stared at the wall.

“Is that....is that someone else’s child Y/N?” He asked.

“What? No. Michael...they’re yours. It’s our child, I’ve named them Y/C/N.” She said swallowing hard, her worst fear seemingly coming to life as she knew he may not have taken the news well.

“Really?” He asked as her answer sank in, a small smile forming on his face as he looked at the little one wrapped in a small blanket, clearly still asleep.

“Yeah. I waited...and obviously couldn’t do much in the waiting anyways. I just....didn’t know when to tell you because I didn’t know if it was safe with the mafia and all. I just wanted to keep them safe. I hope you can understand.” She said, tears falling down her cheeks as she quickly wiped them away.

Michael quickly sat near her, holding her to him as he looked down at his child. His world feeling like it was changing with every millisecond.

“I don’t blame you alright love? I’m glad you’re both safe. That’s all I care about. I’m just sad I couldn’t have been there, but we have all the time to make up for it, yeah?” He asked, his heart about to explode as he realized he’s a father. The baby looking like him the more he gazed at them. In that moment wanting to protect them more than anything else in the world.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you and our child alright? I’m here now.” He said, helping her calm down as the baby started fussing about.

“Shhh. It’s okay love.” Y/N said gently, sniffling and wiping away her tears as she handed the baby to Michael.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his hands shaking slightly as he didn’t want to drop them.

“You’re their father. I trust you more than the family.” She said as he cradled the small bundle.

“They’ll be a year old in a few months. I think Y/C/N may have brought our families together. At least somewhat.” She said with a nervous chuckle.

The baby settled down as they fell asleep in the comfort of Michael’s arms. Causing a huge smile to form on his face.

“I can’t see why they couldn’t bring them together. I’m assuming my mum is handling it better than Thomas.” He said, an understandable annoyance in his tone towards his older blinder cousin.

“Yeah...Polly could tell I was pregnant just weeks after you’d left. She gave him a stern talking to though. I’ve come to like your mum after all. She’s a nice woman.” She said.

“How did your father take the news?” He asked.

“He was kind of like Thomas, only he felt more guilt. He knew making you leave would upset me and once he found out, he wanted to get you back once the Changretta drama had been resolved. But Thomas kind of kept him from infringing upon that plan. Him doing the rum business with you was his way of extending an olive branch I think.” She said, taking a deep breath as she laid her head on his shoulder. Taking in his familiar scent that she longed to have back all those months ago.

“I’m glad you came back though. I don’t think we could’ve gone much longer without you knowing. It ate me up inside not telling you but I’m so glad you’re here love. We need you.” She said, glancing at the flowers he’d set on the table.

“I have a feeling I’ll be staying a while now. So don’t worry about me. I’ll figure things out with Tom and the rest.” He said, brushing his hand softly over the baby’s little head, the hair so fine and fragile he pulled his hand away slowly, not wanting to disturb them.

“Y/C/N’s perfect. I....I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d come home to this....Thank you love. You’ve done so much. I’ll repay you, I’ll be sure to once this all gets settled.” He said.

“Just you being here is payment enough. Thank you for waiting. I know I sure did.” She said, yawning then kissing his cheek. A long, yet peaceful silence formed between them as the stars sparkled out the window, filling the room with a lovely blue glow.

“Well love, if you want to, you can stay up with them for a bit. I’d really like the sleep.” She said chuckling lightly.

“Of course. I’ll be there soon.” He said staring at the new little light in his life.

“Alright, goodnight you two. Love you.” She said.

“Love you too.” He said back, glad he was finally able to say it in person.

Never in a million years would he have thought something like that would come out of such a tense situation, but maybe there were silver linings in life after all, they both just had to wait long enough to finally see them.

[mvrkgeoli]

GHOSTING

pairing: ghost!yuta x reader genre: kinda 50s - 60s au for yuta, ghost au, angst, some fluff, kinda mature..? word count: 5.3k warnings: a handful of satanic themes, mentions of death / killing, bittersweet ending i’m sorry author’s note: lowercase intended. this is my first kinda lengthy fic and um yea i hope u like c:

settling into a new place where you weren't familiar with sure was draining, especially when you barely knew anyone around along with a long drive that separated you from your already long time friends. you had to move to alleviate the time it took to travel to the university you recently got into. renting a flat for yourself to live alone was the first "adult achievement" you had overcome, as how your mother would word it out. what definitely stunned you was how cheap the place was, for a whole flat you thought it would have cost you a few more hundreds at least.

from what you heard from the small old building's landlord, not entirely in detail, the flat was apparently owned by multiple in the past. you didn't mind it at all, you couldn't let such a price go for a student like yourself already struggling, happy with the fact that it was somewhat already furnished, furniture sitting dusted probably by the time that had passed from the last owner. some things stayed from all the years the building went through, mainly only the furniture and appliances being changed through the years. mentally reminding yourself to thank your bestfriend doyoung for helping you find places with affordable prices after you finish settling in the last of your belongings.

a few weeks had passed, finding yourself in a comfortable position in your bed along with stress clouding your mind from all the requirements already building up in the first semester. not to mention all the weird happenings that had been going on, you didn't know if you were just tired or already gone crazy.

the first time something happened was the day after you settled in the flat. the blinds in your room shut by itself just when you were going to bed, it had reminded you to close them before you drifted off into your deep slumber to shut off any peeping toms, you paid no mind to it thinking it was meant to be and nudged you as your first blunder.

the most recent one was by far the creepiest. the feeling of breathing against your ear sent shivers down your spine, sitting up from your bed abruptly, breaking you off from your little nap. the past ones had always been short hasty movements from the furniture or your belongings, sure they alarmed and spooked you but in contrast to the breathing occurrence, it was slow and calm, it felt so close. it continued for as long as it could until your wake that night, the feeling savored in your head for the rest of the day.

which leads you to today, texting doyoung if he knew anything about the unit before he suggested it to you. watching the small bubbles bobbing in your screen as you waited for his response, a short message making its way into your sight after a few moments.

dodoie | today at 6:23 not that i know of?? all i know is someone living there before but you already knew that :0

you sent him a brief thank you before shifting to your laptop to look for answers yourself, only thinking about it now after the breathing incident. first looking up the address, only the map and pictures of the neighboring buildings coming up.

after some time, you sighed to yourself, searching the last thing you wanted to if any incidents had happened in the building. woefully, an old article from a newspaper front decades ago popped up. the title reading, “nakamoto yuta, found dead in apartment…” a picture of the boy was attached, he had black slightly grown out hair, his smile was so pure you found yourself with a growing frown on your face.

what came next however, was a wave of shock running through your body at the discovery, quickly opening a new tab to search for the said name.

“local student uncovered to be a satanist—“ you trailed off, rubbing the palms of your hands against your face in stress.

clicking on another link to a 4chan discussion about the recent discovery, you saw a bulletin about the boy and some photos of the very unit you were in. he was apparently a sweet boy from what the neighboring people said. a boy who had a bright fresh smile that could lighten up any mood, it was unexpected for him to be revealed as such a person.

there was a picture of a girl next to yuta named kaiju, said to be the boy’s lovely girlfriend. the two lived together and were seen as the perfect couple.

after hours of scrolling through the page, you found a small recording of an old interview of the girl crying. “i-it was tragic… he was the perfect man— i thought he was the perfect man..” she sobbed. you frowned at your screen, eyes widening when a clip of the apartment rolled. it showed the floorboards under their refrigerator being opened to reveal different notes and certain objects that were said to be used for satanism.

you sat up to run to the kitchen, bringing your laptop with you. you compared the clip to the room in front of you. a cabinet sat where the fridge you saw was in the clip, you sighed to yourself before setting down your laptop to pull the cabinet aside.

nose scrunching in distaste as below you unveiled dust and dead bugs, taking the first utensil you could reach, in this case; a fork. you pried on the wood beneath you, pulling your shirt up to cover your nose from the dust that spread from your tampering. the wood popped open with a loud thump, you peeked inside to face dark emptiness. there sat cobwebs and dust for who knows how long, your eyebrows furrowed as the thought of the government probably collecting everything that had concerned the incident.

just when you were going to put back the floorboards, a noise rattled into your ears. you flinched back at the sound before taking into consideration to shine your phone’s flashlight at the darkness it held. there you saw the emptiness clearer. before you gave up, you saw one of the sides with little scratches and indents in the corner.

taking the fork again, you attempted to pry another piece of wood open, unfortunately failing when the prongs of the fork bent along with the burn of your fingers from using all your strength trying to open the side.

“almost...”

the voice seemed so close to you, letting out a yelp as you snapped your head towards the voice’s direction to face the empty kitchen. your breaths were heavy, heart beating at a pace you think it hasn’t been in before, your figure trembling as you hurry to unlock your phone to send all the articles you had found about this “yuta” to doyoung.

you slept by the unit’s entrance door that night in case you had to escape in a hurry.

you woke up to knocking on your door, groggily getting up from the floor to stretching briefly.

“hold on..!” you stood up and checked the little peep hole to reveal your bestfriend along with another boy.

opening the door immediately to face the pair staring back at you with questioning faces.

“jesus, did you sleep under a couch or something?” the unannounced boy spoke up. doyoung nudging him with his elbow in response, turning back to you with a small smile.

“sorry about him, this is donghy—“ “haechan.” doyoung rolled his eyes as he was cut off before continuing, “‘haechan’ right- this is one of my distant cousins haechan, i don’t think we have the money to hire a professional to check the place out but haechan here used to be in a ‘paranormal investigations club.’ and offered to help because he found you cute— ow!” an eyebrow raised at doyoung’s words as you watched the exchange between the boys. “anyways i called you and sent you messages hours ago, i thought something happened.”

you picked up your phone from the floor, the screen lighting up with multiple notifications. “oh.. sorry, i guess i was a heavy sleeper last night- wait you went all the way here!?” your eyes widened at the sudden realization, embracing the taller boy in your arms before inviting the pair inside straight away.

“holy shit the guy was into satanism?” haechan read in shock, his thumb scrolling through one of the articles you had sent doyoung. “you’re only reading it now?” doyoung scoffed at the boy as he shook his head, sitting himself right next to you on the couch.

“w..well yeah, i thought it wouldn’t be too big of a problem…” the boy rubbed on the nape of his neck in humiliation, to which your bestfriend responded with a low sigh. “i didn’t drive us an hour for you to end up useless, hyuck.” “—haechan!” doyoung only rolled his eyes at the other.

“and i’m not completely useless! one of the club members, chenle, used to say that ghosts usually only have unfinished business if they stay behind in this world. maybe we can confront this ‘yuta’ politely or make a deal with him-“ you raised a brow towards haechan rubbing the space between your brows in distress. “are you seriously telling me to make a deal? with a satanist? you’re basically making me make a deal with the devil, literally!”

haechan put his hands up in defense, eyes widening at your small burst. “okay, okay! what i’m saying is, if chenle was right about ghosts having unfinished business, maybe you can help ‘yuta’ to finish! if he was wrong, you can try getting a deal or something to leave you alone i guess.”

you sighed in defeat, this chenle guy could be right, but you would still take risk on having a deal with this guy. “so… how ‘bout it?” haechan shrugged as his eyebrows arched in proposition, to which you rolled your eyes. “okay kid, but how am i gonna summon him?”

“take this just in case.” haechan handed you a small bag, ‘iodized salt’ it read. you only nodded and casted him a quick thank you before he proceeded to enter the elder’s car first, giving doyoung another longing hug as he nagged on if you needed any more help. “sorry about donghyuck again, call me if anything serious happens. i’m also at fault here kinda ‘cause i suggested this place to you with no research.”

“what’s with ‘haechan’ anyway? and it’s fine, it was my fault i only looked at the price before deciding.” doyoung laughed and glanced over to the boy sitting in the passenger seat before turning back to face you. “he said it was a cool ‘code name’, he didn’t want any ghosts to know his name. anyway, seriously if worst comes to worst, it may cost more money but i’ll try helping with looking for another place.” you snickered softly before thanking him again.

and so, you were left alone again, waving goodbye to the car drifting off your sight. sighing to yourself as you went back into the building, sitting on the couch to research more about summoning dead people safely if that was even possible.

several hours had passed from reading about ghosts and looking for the right supplies, you just got back from a close bookstore to buy three new tall candles for summoning the little friend that had been haunting you, planning on doing it at midnight just like the “easy tutorial” donghyuck made doyoung send you.

later, moving to your bathroom hastily wanting to just get it over with, bringing the candles, a marker, along with the bag of salt donghyuck had given you. hunching over the bathtub to draw a decent sized summoning circle. placing the lengthened candles to three points of the summoning circle, you filled up the tub with at least an inch of water before lighting them.

you switched off the lights, closing the door before kneeling down behind the bathtub. taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes in advance of doing a cheesy chant along with saying the perpetrator’s name three times just like what donghyuck’s tutorial said.

“... nakamoto yuta,” the first holler of his name was said, already feeling stupid for using such a cliché way of summoning. “nakamoto yuta,” in an instant, your lips quivered when you felt your surroundings turn darker. “nakamoto..” the room felt colder, your ears ringing from how quiet the ambience had shifted. your breathing trembled as you finished the chant. “.. yuta.”

“so you did have the guts.”

your eyes crack open at the voice, only to face total darkness. the candles, from what you assume, blew over which meant something must have definitely happened. jumping back in a hurry as you rushed to turn on the lights, your breaths turned shorter as your eyes met with a dark haired man standing in the bathtub, right on top of the summoning circle you drew. your immediate reaction was ripping open the bag donghyuck gave and shoving it at the man as you recoiled your arms to cover your head in a corner.

a distant grunt echoed around the bathroom, followed by water sloshing around and dripping footsteps nearing your shaking figure. tears pricked your eyes as you felt the clear presence of the man get closer.

“this is table salt.”

thanks a lot, donghyuck.

your eyes creak open slightly, eyes meeting once again with the dark haired man. head still in your arms as you refused to lift your head for him, you spoke with a shaky voice. “yu.. yuta…?” your eyes were glued to the tiles of the floor, a peek of the man’s wet shoes making its way to your vision.

“that’s me— oh god, i don’t look like what i looked like when i died right??” your ears perked at the tone of his voice, eyebrows furrowing at the question. ‘oh god’? wasn’t he on the devil’s side? why was that his first question? why did he sound so soft? hearing the soft clacking of the soles of his shoes walking away, you lift your head to see the rear side of the man attempting to inspect himself and shake off the salt you threw at him.

“y-you’re a lot uh.. a lot less intimidating than i thought…” you spoke up, yuta turned to look at you with his big eyes before walking back to crouch down your eye level. “am i really?” you cowered back, his voice cutting you off before you could open your mouth. “i’m kidding, sorry..”

your fingertips reached out to feel his forearm in curiosity, lips pursing when it made contact to yuta’s arm. it felt real, the way your fingers would bounce back when pushed on the boy’s flesh. “you seem.. so normal- almost too normal…” his eyes trailed down to follow your finger’s movements, blinking to himself before speaking up. “i am normal- or i guess was… i won’t hurt you, don't worry.”

your eyebrows arched, skeptical of the man in front of you. eyes traveling down to let yourself think; in retrospect, for all of the things that have been happening, you will admit that none of them had hurt you in any way. your head tilted back up, still hesitant about everything and anything at that moment.

“okay, let’s- let’s have a small nice and calm talk—“

you sat across the ghost in the dining area in silence, your face buried in your clammy hands as you still couldn’t process everything. he sat stiff in front of you, blinking to himself as you both seemed like waiting for something to happen.

“it’s not true, y’know.” he broke the ice and attempted to make the first move to talk, he watched as your head tipped up at his voice, finally drinking in your features when you fixed your posture and pushed back the hair that got in the way of your face. “— the articles you read- i mean..”

you stared at the man in front of you dubiously. if he knew about the articles you’ve seen, how much of you did he see, you thought to yourself suddenly. blinking several times before thinking of a response. “the what?”

“the things you saw about me. they weren’t true.” his eyes trailed down to stare blankly at the center of the table as his fingers fiddled with the table’s ridges. you only raised a brow at the man, eyes following his movements.

“uh huh, okay..” you found yourself just nodding and humming to his words trying to talk you into him being good, you couldn’t trust someone that easily, even more so when it was a ghost who was known to be supporting the devil itself. “how am i supposed to believe a satanis—“ he looked at you with his wide eyes at this, palms laying flat against the table. “i’m not, i swear.. i haven’t done anything bad right?” listening to the man before you speaking softly shifting tone as he continued, almost as if he was scolding himself rather. “i didn’t hurt you? i didn’t hurt anyone who’s lived here before you! i didn’t hurt kaiju either!”

your eyes widened at the name, his past lover. staring closely at the man’s face, you almost see tears welling up in his eyes. choosing to silence yourself after the outburst not wanting to madden the boy in front of you more, you thought of anything calm to respond with.

you avert your gaze to the side as you saw the man stand up to walk away, listening to the soft footsteps he left behind him. lips pursing as you tried to think of anything to calm the mood.

“here.” you heard his voice ring from the kitchen area. looking up from your spaced out gaze to find yuta standing with his arms crossed by the cabinet you had previously moved. you stood up from your seat to walk to the kitchen in silence, making few steps to get beside the boy.

“open it again.” you only nodded, still feeling the awkwardness lingering in the air. you moved the cabinet aside once more, grabbing another fork from the kitchen drawer to pry open the floorboards. sitting on your knees as you face the empty compartment, eyes trained on the blemished side of the hollow cavity. you stared up at yuta only to face a blank look on his face insinuating for you to continue.

“i already tried…” you put the fork down to slouch. “i know, now try again.” he persisted, you only took a breath in before attempting to open another hidden compartment within the one already opened.

after several forks bent, a few dulled knives, the annoying thumping of a hammer ringing in your ears and your hands stinging with burns from the pressure forced onto them, you successfully pried open what seemed like the most superglued pieces of wood together to reveal an old looking shoebox. pulling it out before sitting comfortably to uncrate the box.

yuta crouched down beside you as you uncovered the shoebox. revealing a tattered pouch, something wrapped with worn down linen and some papers with characters you couldn’t read, opening the pouch with interest and dumping the contents onto the shoebox’s lid to exhibit different kinds of pendants and even some small lockets.

moving onto the linen wrapped item, you handled it with frail fingers, it weighed down your hands slightly making you more curious. it unraveled a small dagger.

you wince at the sight and dropped the dagger abruptly, the loud clang of the blade as it ground rang for what seemed like forever. it was covered with maroon. forcing yourself to think that it was just rust and not what you thought it was, you turned to yuta with your shaky eyes.

“she took one thing from people she had targeted after she was finished.” he said mindlessly, reaching forward to fiddle with the trinkets spilled from the pouch. you however, sat back to process the new discovery.

‘she’? you thought to yourself. kaiju? was it her? you blinked to yourself and tried to piece things together. the clip of kaiju sobbing appeared in your head. not once did she talk about the insights of their relationship when it was about ‘yuta’s satanism’. she even knew where the compartment was located after yuta’s death claiming he had left it open. burying your head into your dusted hands. yuta was haunting the unit not because he was bad.

he just wanted to be found.

you knew something felt off when you saw her smile whenever the public pitied her for the loss of her ‘lover’.

the thought of yuta staying for years being painted and seen as a bad person by the public made a frown quickly grow on your face, you fixated your eyes on the man beside you as he absentmindedly toyed with the small belongings of other people. the other people. did they stay behind and want to be found too? you thought.

“i’m so sorry…” you finally spoke words, yuta nodded and stood from the ground. “you summoned me to get rid of me right? sorry to break it to you but i was left here as a spirit beca—“ you took a sharp inhale at his words, standing up to face the taller.

“i wanna help you. this guy said people like you were left here as a ghost because they have—“ yuta looked at you with uninterested eyes. “unfinished business. i know, i was there when that haechan guy came.” he sighed and looked off to the side in contempt before continuing. “y’know, i’d be happy to accept but it’s hard when even i don’t know what my ‘unfinished business’ is. it made me think after what he said sunk in… what if we don’t move on after death. we don’t even know if that’s true.. who knows, maybe i’ll stay here as a ghost forever.”

you clenched your jaw as yuta spoke, he made fair points and what ifs. it made you even more mad that kaiju got away with it, yuta was portrayed as the bad guy and they left the case at that. “i’ll tell the police about this— i.. i can change what they think about you…!” yuta only shrugged, your eyes followed after his steps as he sat back down by the table. you trailed after him, sitting next to him this time. “it’s been years. i doubt all the people who were alive back then would care or would even remember.”

a sigh spilled from your mouth as you fell into a slump next to his careless state, you went from wanting to move out of the flat to feeling like you wanted to protect yuta and the apartment he had died in. “thanks though. for putting in effort i mean- all the people before you moved out in weeks or just ran away.”

he stared at your tired figure, eyes wandering to your distended fingers. he appreciated the pain your body had went through to see him, the thought of you wanting to even help him made him realize how much he missed how nice it felt to be given a care for. yuta watched as you straighten your posture back up to face him, he felt how dissatisfied you were by the droop of your eyes.

“then let’s still try.. we don’t know if what haechan’s friend said was true, just like you said but that doesn’t mean it isn’t. we just don’t know yet, it could be true! so let’s try..!” yuta blinked at your determination, letting out a chuckle for the first time since you met him. “you seriously don’t have to put this much into helping—“

“i don’t care! i don’t think i can live on with the thought of this man rotting here when i’m living my life like it’s back to normal. just let me help you… even if it fails i’ll be glad to know that i tried my best.” you thumped a fist to the table’s surface, seeing yuta flinch at the corner of your eye.

yuta had been rotting in this hell hole for years, he had long forgotten what it felt like to be important, even being thought about made him feel like he still had purpose. he was sure that if he still had a functioning heart, it’d be beating with how warm he felt.

“okay.. let’s try.”

a few weeks had passed, both of you agreeing to act like normal as if you were roommates, though the only difference was yuta not needing to eat nor bathe or anything, in an attempt to make your new ghostly friend feel happiness. he shared that he lived a pretty decent life, although short he was happy. he had no one who seemed like they would put up a fight with him, bad things that would come across nor anything physical that was unfinished from what he could remember of his life when he was alive- other than being killed and sacrificed to satan of course.

you contacted doyoung to tell and explain what really happened, he however didn’t know how to feel about the situation. a friendly ghost being by his bestfriend’s side almost 24/7, he was happy that you didn’t get killed or possessed or anything but he was skeptical that he hasn’t seen the man himself whenever you facetimed or called. yuta on the other hand refused to show himself even if he couldn’t be seen anyway especially if haechan was with doyoung, if you were in a call, he’d simply just hang around in a different room not wanting to lift some book just to prove he was actually the one moving it.

in yuta’s perspective, he thinks that this was probably the happiest and lively he’s been in years. he had someone to talk to, hang out with after he spent all this time trying to get attention from people and being lonely. you were there to listen to all the stories he had from all the exciting things he experienced and went through, and he was there when you needed someone to rant to even about the most random and little things. even teaching him about modern technology and watching series he hadn’t watched.

yuta felt like his presence was valued. sometimes he’d forget that he was even dead when he was having fun with you. you believe that everything was working out well, you almost felt like stopping because if you were to be honest, you probably had shared some of the happiest moments as well and didn’t want anything to end.

as more days, weeks, months passed by like nothing, yuta was at his peak of happiness spending time with you and learning about how things had changed through the years.

you made an anonymous 4chan thread about the truth, you wanted justice for yuta to be seen as someone he truly was. you named yourself as someone who lives in the flat currently and acted as someone who was curious about the old building. soon a small group who theorized yuta being innocent was formed, it made you glad that even a handful of people believed that he was actually good.

yuta shortly requested if he could lay with you in bed after you got comfortable with his company, claiming that ghosts could feel sore too. you only laughed and agreed, you learned that he had his ways to charm you into his silliness.

“so what was with the breathing?” you suddenly remembered the whole reason why you summoned yuta in the first place. he shifted his head to the side to look at you, bottom lip pushing out slightly as he tried to think. “the what breathing?”

“i remember feeling someone breathing against me, it was kinda the last straw with me back then before i did research about the place and found out about you.” yuta hummed to himself as he thinks all the way back to when you were kind of new to the place, he swore he could feel his face warm up when he realized what you were talking about.

“... i was uh.. you know how i get lonely right— i mean-! i swear i was just laying in bed! i didn’t realize i was so close to you and affected you!” you smirked at the response, giggling at how he babbled on and tried to explain himself. “hmm okay, perv.”

“i— what?” yuta sat up slightly, using his elbows to support his body on the soft mattress. “i mean, you probably have already seen me naked.”

“hey! i know being a ghost is creepy but i’m not that kind of creepy… i suppose i have seen— but i swear i didn’t think anything filthy of it-!” you laughed at the man’s embarrassed face, brushing off the topic to save the man from sinking further into shyness.

“y’know, i don’t think i’d get to see ghosts the same way as i did before i met you.” you started off, yuta only stared at you with interest as you continued. “i didn’t even believe in them before this, and everyone in the world thinks ghosts are always out to kill or haunt you or something.” your eyes trailed forward to look at your ceiling, thinking of the right words to say.

“but now i know.. a lot of you probably just want closure from death, it makes me sad that most of you just rot away not doing anything, moving stuff to get our attention and stuff, no wonder some tired and lonely ones end up haunting places with bad intentions.” yuta blinked at your sudden burst of feelings in words, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of finally being understood.

“it’s too bad that you guys are usually interpreted as bad people, when you’re just finding your way to peace.” you didn’t realize a tear slipped down the side of your face until yuta wiped it off with his cold fingers. he fully sat up to face you, following suit to the man beside you.

yuta hesitated before leaning in slowly, you closed your eyes in content. lips pressing against his cold slightly chapped ones, you felt one of his hands travel up to cup your cheek gently. yuta felt himself flood his own tears after so long. the kiss lasted a good moment, it was sweet and genuine. pulling away with slightly hooded eyes, you cupped his cheeks with both hands, leaning in once more to kiss away the man’s tears.

“it’s okay, let it all out…” you whispered tenderly, he might be decades older than you but he was still the bright young hopeful boy he once was.

the happy moment quickly converted into confusion when you saw his figure slowly turn translucent, seeing the light sourced by the room peek through him slightly. he turned back to you with a happy smile this time, his voice rung in your ears with a slightly thrilled voice. “i think i understand what my ‘unfinished business’ was.”

your eyes widened further as you thread your fingers through his soft tufts of hair. “w-what do you mean…?” you weren’t ready to let go of him yet, your eyes swelled with tears as he spoke once more.

“yuta! no.. what—!?” you watched as your hands sunk into his figure. you couldn’t feel him anymore.

“thank you for loving me back.” you stared at the man in dejection, your breaths turning shallow as your time with yuta came to an end. he was finally at peace. eyes pouring rivers at the realization that he was actually gone, if past you knew that he was gone now, you would probably be happy.

weren’t you supposed to be happy? this was your goal from the beginning, why did it feel like a part of you died along with yuta’s disappearance. you slumped in devastation. yuta didn’t want to live perfect and happy.

he just wanted to be loved genuinely.

you didn’t even get to say the words to him, it was too late when you were certain you felt these strong feelings for the man.

“i love you too.”

[ibijau]

part 13 of the Nomad Nie AU // On AO3

Lan Xichen tries to defuse the situation with Meng Yao and to save his husband

It wasn’t easy, walking in this much snow, least of all after such a long ride. Jin Guangyao, wanting to make a statement to both sides of the fight, had stopped almost exactly midway between the Wen and the Nie, so they would all hear and see him and his hostage. Lan Xichen still did his best to rapidly cross the distance between him and the other two men. Before he even reached them, he heard his husband cry out for him.

“Xichen! Don’t come!” Huaisang shouted, trying to come toward him, only for the blade in Meng Yao’s hand to be brought closer to his throat.

“Be quiet, you!” Meng Yao snarled. “Do you think I would hesitate?”

Lan Xichen froze for a moment, his eyes meeting Huaisang’s. In a situation such as this, it wouldn’t be too odd for the kidnapper to inflict some small wound on their victim, just enough to draw a few drops of blood and show how serious they were. At least, it wasn’t uncommon in the novels Lan Xichen read at home, and while a little vicious, it never did any lasting damage to those hostages. But with Huaisang’s health, even a small cut would be dangerous, especially if they truly ended up taken away by the Wen. 

“Meng gongzi, please don’t do anything too rash,” Lan Xichen begged, taking a step closer. “Maybe we can still… wait, is that Zonghui’s sword?”

Having recognised a blade he'd seen so often while training, Lan Xichen stopped walking again, terrified for his husband’s cousin. Meng Yao try to laugh his usual polite laughter, as if they were just chatting calmly, only for it to come off somewhat maniacal.

“Yes! That idiot, can you believe he trusted me when I told him it hurt me to be tied so tight? Those Nie are really too stupid compared to civilised people, they just don’t understand deception in the least!”

A wave of anger mounted inside Lan Xichen upon hearing Zonghui dismissed that way. If Zonghui had listened to Meng Yao’s complaints, if he’d tried to be kind to him, wasn’t it proof that the Nie were nowhere as cruel and barbaric as Meng Yao had convinced himself they were? Didn't it show they had to have held him in some esteem in the past, enough so that his betrayal couldn't fully erase years of cohabitation and collaboration?

But looking at his friend, Lan Xichen figured the argument might be lost on him. There was a wild glint in Meng Yao’s eyes, and a flush on his face that made Lan Xichen suspect the other man might be running a fever. After a blow to the head as hard as the one he’d been given just a few days earlier, it wouldn’t be surprising if Meng Yao had become unwell. In that case, using reason would be no use at all, but perhaps emotion might still work.

“Meng gongzi, Meng Yao, please don’t do anything reckless,” Lan Xichen pleaded in a softer voice, walking closer and stopping just out of range of that sword. “I’m here with you now, so do we really need Huaisang? You’re always saying he’s a bother, so why keep him around? You should just let him go, we don’t need him.”

Meng Yao laughed disdainfully. “Lan gongzi, if we don’t have him, those barbarians will just kill us. We’re useless to them.”

“Surely they must value you,” Lan Xichen insisted, smiling warmly at the other man. “They wouldn’t have trusted you with this plan if they didn’t think you’re an asset. So please, just let Huaisang go, or else you know we’ll have the Khan eternal hatred and it'll be a hassle. Let him go, Meng Yao, and then the two of us will have a better chance to go home together. Wouldn’t you like that? Don't you want us to go home?”

Meng Yao frowned, as if considering it, while Nie Huaisang gasped in horror.

“Xichen, don’t!” he cried out. “They’ll kill you!”

Lan Xichen threw his husband a sharp look, hoping to silence him, but it was too late already, and Meng Yao returned to his senses.

“Silence, you!” he snapped, pressing the sword harder against Huaisang’s skin, not yet cutting but causing a small indent on his throat. Held like this, any wrong movement on either part might cause a wound. Huaisang froze, barely daring to breathe, which seemed to please Meng Yao. “Lan gongzi, it’s really safer to keep him with us for now, so let’s join the Wen before Xu loses patience.”

“Then first you must move that blade away,” Lan Xichen warned, unable to look away from his husband’s throat. “Or else, you might hurt him by accident.”

Meng Yao shrugged, the sword scraping slightly against Huaisang’s skin who went rigid with terror. He threw Lan Xichen a desperate look, tears forming in his eyes, and clenched his hands at his side to resist the impulse to push that sword away.

“If he’s hurt, he’s hurt,” Meng Yao said. “Actually, a little blood will show the Khan we mean business, wouldn’t it? I should…”

“If you spill a single drop of his blood,” Lan Xichen snapped, putting one hand on the handle of his own sword, “I will make you regret it.”

It was perhaps not the smartest thing to say at such a moment, but Lan Xichen was getting truly worried. Meng Yao’s eyes opened wide in shock at the threat, before narrowing as he seemed to reconsider the entire situation. Lan Xichen’s hold on his sword tightened.

Before either of them could move, the Wen leader barked something their way, startling all three of them. Again Meng Yao’s sword scraped against Huaisang’s throat, nearly cutting through it and leaving it slightly more red.

“We’d better get going,” Meng Yao said, his voice colder now even if his expression remained somewhat feverish. “Or else, that idiot will come take Huaisang without our input, and then it’ll all have been for nothing. You can come with us, Lan gongzi, or you can stay here and die with the Nie. And they will die, trust me. Once Huaisang is in Ruohan’s hands it's over, his brother will have to…”

“NO!” Huaisang roared, elbowing Meng Yao in the stomach.

Surprised by that sudden attack, Meng Yao moved without thinking, letting his sword slash into Huaisang’s neck. For all his talks of threats and his willingness to cause a war, Meng Yao looked stunned by the blood on his sword, the red drops on white snow as Huaisang fell to his knees. He looked up toward Lan Xichen, mouth open to ask a question, only to find himself stabbed through the chest by the friend he’d so desperately tried to protect.

They stared at each other, equally shocked that this was happening. But the instant Lan Xichen had seen Huaisang hurt, he’d acted on instinct alone.

"Lan Xichen!" Meng Yao shouted, spitting blood. "After all I did for you, you're choosing that barbarian over me? I treated you as my friend! I helped you, advised you, I was going to save you! And now you're…"

Unwilling to hear those accusations, Lan Xichen pulled his sword out of the other man's body. Meng Yao coughed up more blood and fell to his knees next to Huaisang, still glaring at Lan Xichen. 

Lan Xichen ignored him and threw his sword aside so he could gather Huaisang in his arms. Then, without waiting a moment more, he started running toward the camp while holding his husband, who had both hands pressed against his own neck. Behind them Lan Xichen heard Meng Yao throw more insults his way, his voice quickly turning weak between fits of coughing before eventually stopping. More importantly he heard the furious shouts of the Wen, the way they sent their horses after him. 

Lan Xichen heard it all and didn't turn to look. Looking would only make him lose time when the only chance of survival Huaisang and him had was to get to the Nie camp. If the Wen caught up with them… Lan Xichen nearly tripped at that thought, jostling Huaisang in his arms who moaned in pain. If they were caught, Lan Xichen would be killed for ruining the Wen's plan, while Huaisang would be taken away. Then he would probably bleed to death in a matter of days among those enemies who wouldn't realise the danger to his health. 

So Lan Xichen, with the energy of despair, ran through the snow. His legs and lungs burned, Huaisang was a heavy weight in his arms, but he ran. The snow was slippery, the ground uneven, but he ran. The horses were catching up to him, the camp still out of reach, but he ran, until he thought he could feel the hot breath of a horse against his neck.

Lan Xichen heard a shout behind him in a language he didn't understand, the sound of a sword being brought down, and braced himself. Yet instead of being struck in the back, there was only the unpleasant scrapping of metal meeting metal right next to him. 

Unable to resist his curiosity any longer, Lan Xichen looked back to find Mingjue and the Wen chief locked in battle. He slowed down, unable to tear his eyes from that duel until Mingjue, who had the upper hand the whole time, swiftly slashed at his enemy and sent his head rolling into the snow in a single powerful blow. 

Without a word, Lan Xichen and Mingjue looked at each other, both of them panting from their efforts. Then the Khan's eyes fell onto his brother, worry flashing on his face. Lan Xichen tightened his hold on his husband. 

"I'm taking care of him!" he shouted. "Do what you must!" 

Having said this he started running again toward the camp, this time with the Khan blocking the Wen's way. Even once he reached the first ger he didn't stop running, not until he'd taken Huaisang to their home and laid him down on some furs. 

A few people tried to come in, wanting to help. Lan Xichen took the medicine they were carrying, but still sent them away, knowing they would surely notice if there was too much blood.

Outside, the battle went on, noisy and messy but turning to the Nie's advantage by the sound of it. Inside, Lan Xichen was fighting another battle, trying to mop the blood steadily flowing from his husband's neck long enough to apply balms on it, just as he had before. This wound was bleeding more than the other one on his arm, weeks before, but it wasn't too deep and had miraculously avoided cutting anything critical. Although very pale and weakened, Huaisang was still conscious and even managed to whisper instructions on how to deal with his wound. 

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't struggled," Lan Xichen scolded him, fighting tears as he pressed a new, clean piece of fabric against the wound. "Couldn't you see Meng Yao was serious?" 

Nie Huaisang shrugged weakly, then winced in pain. 

"Better dead than used against my brother," he whispered. "Anyway, I knew you'd save me." 

"You're so unreasonable!" Lan Xichen sobbed, watching the fabric on Huaisang’s neck slowly turn red. "I swear, your brother is right, you're too unreasonable sometimes!" 

Nie Huaisang smiled at that accusation and tried to nod, only to wince once more. Lan Xichen started scolding him again, all the while crying heavy tears which mixed with his husband's unceasing stream of blood. 

This was how Mingjue found them when he returned, the battle won. Like the two of them he was stained with blood, though by the look of things, none of it was his own. He threw them a look so severe Lan Xichen feared he would be sent away. With everything that had happened, they had never had the chance to let the Khan know that Huaisang had shared his secret. 

But Mingjue did not force Lan Xichen to leave, only motioning for his brother-in-law to move aside so he could check on Huaisang. Lan Xichen promptly obeyed, relieved that someone more experienced was there to help. Mingjue lifted the piece of cloth to look at the wound. His face showed no emotion as he demanded more cloth, but his hands were trembling slightly as he pressed down on the gash, careful not to choke his brother. 

With great calm, Mingjue took over caring for his brother. Throughout the rest of the night and part of the morning he stayed with Huaisang, telling Lan Xichen how to help, sending him outside sometimes when he needed more cloth or medicine. 

Without needing to be asked, Lan Xichen remained elusive when others asked about Huaisang’s state. A neck wound could easily be a serious issue, so it did not seem to surprise the Nie that Huaisang was bleeding so much. They were a little more puzzled that Mingjue would deal with this alone, but ultimately they knew how protective he could be, and there were other wounded to be cared for after that battle, so everyone stopped insisting. For his part, Lan Xichen almost asked after Meng Yao, even after all this, before deciding it was pointless. Zonghui (who was well, in spite of a blow to the head. This Lan Xichen did ask) had taught where to strike to kill someone. Even if Meng Yao had initially survived, any Nie finding him would have finished him off for what he'd done, and the Wen wouldn't have any better feelings for him.

Around noon, Lan Xichen was sent to fetch some light soup. Mingjue, tired from his long effort, left to his brother-in-law the task of feeding Huaisang, only watching tiredly as he too ate something. Soon after, Huaisang fell asleep, and Mingjue encouraged Lan Xichen to do the same. 

Although he'd thought he would be too nervous to close his eyes, Lan Xichen passed out as soon as he laid down and slept a dreamless sleep.

In the first few days that followed, Huaisang's fate remained uncertain. Even if the wound wasn't deep, it was in an area where it wasn't possible to rely on compression to help stop the flow of blood. To make it worse, Huaisang developed a fever on the first evening, making his brother and his husband fear that they would lose him. Lan Xichen spent that entire night at his side, holding his hand, doing everything he could to soothe him. If Huaisang had to die, Lan Xichen refused to let him die alone. 

Thankfully the fever broke that following morning, and from there on Huaisang slowly improved. 

It would take a while for the wound to fully close, and Huaisang would have to stay inside and be careful for days, or more likely weeks, but his life was no longer threatened. 

When his brother announced this, Huaisang demanded a party to celebrate. Mingjue scolded him, called him spoiled and unreasonable, then went ahead and arranged for all of Huaisang’s favourite foods to be prepared that evening, or at least as many as could be managed in the middle of winter, so the three of them could indeed celebrate. They even shared some liquor together, though Huaisang complained heavily when he was allowed very little of it, only to then promptly get drowsy from drinking and needing to be helped to bed. 

Lan Xichen took care of that, carefully removing any unnecessary layers before wrapping his husband in furs for the night. Until Huaisang’s wound had further healed, they’d agreed it might be safer to sleep separately to avoid any wrong movements during the night, something neither of them enjoyed. Lan Xichen was glad to have that little bit of intimacy that night, even if it was somewhat ruined by Khan Mingjue’s jokes against his brother’s inability to handle liquor. But this too, he figured, was a good thing. If the Khan could poke fun at his brother, it meant he wasn't so worried about him anymore.

"I owe you his life," Mingjue soberly remarked when his brother-in-law had returned to sit with him, passing him the bowl of alcohol.

"You really don't," Lan Xichen replied, taking a polite sip. "He wanted to kill Meng Yao when we learned the truth, and I didn't let him. If anything, it's my fault he was wounded."

"You chose mercy," Mingjue retorted. "Menyao didn't. His choice got him killed. Yours deserve a reward. Name it and it's yours." 

Taken aback by that sudden demand, Lan Xichen looked away. He didn't feel like he deserved any special gift, just because he had done what he believed any decent person would have done. Besides, he'd already gotten a reward: Huaisang was healing, what more would he have wished for? 

"Anything at all," Mingjue insisted, guessing his thoughts. "If you want to be set free and go home, I'll allow it. I know you won't betray our habits to your Khan." 

The offer startled Lan Xichen so badly that he dropped the bowl of alcohol, spilling it over himself and the carpet.

He missed his home. 

He missed his brother, his uncle, even his father, though they'd never been close. He missed his room, his books. He missed the shop down the street that sold prints, the tanghulu their cook made when he was in a good mood. He missed warm baths, finely woven cotton clothes, and the elegant guan he'd been gifted for his coming of age. 

It would be nice to go back, and have his comfortable life returned to him. 

If he went home, Lan Xichen thought, it was almost certain that Huaisang would try to follow him. The Khan wouldn't be able to stop him, not if he was really determined. And that, of course, was the problem.

Lan Xichen, naturally, would be delighted to have his husband with him, this man he’d never expected to love as much as he did. It would be wonderful to show Huaisang around town, to make him taste new foods, to help him discover new entertainments. They would paint together, go to see plays, and pet Lan Wangji’s rabbits. For a while at least, it would be amazing. 

Then after weeks, or months, or perhaps years if they were lucky, Lan Xichen's family would start reminding him he needed a real marriage, to a woman who would give him sons. And once the initial joy of having Lan Xichen back passed, how would they treat Huaisang anyway? If Meng Yao, after years of living with the Nie, still only saw them as inhuman barbarians, how could people who knew nothing of life in the steppe think differently? And as for Huaisang himself, even if they loved each other, how happy could he really be away from his horses and his hawks, away from the brother he adored? 

Among the Han, Lan Xichen saw no future for them. 

Here though, among the Nie… certainly life was harder on the steppes, more dangerous as well, but it had its good sides as well. Lan Xichen had found that he liked the Nie, and they seemed to like him well enough. He loved his horse, and looked forward to riding it again in the spring. He hoped, also, that Huaisang would teach him how to hunt with a hawk. He wanted to be taught this, and every other aspect of their lives they might be willing to share with him.

"I have decided on the favour I want," Lan Xichen announced while trying to mop the spilled alcohol. "I wish to stay here, as Huaisang's husband. That's all I want." He paused a moment, considering something. "I also hope Huaisang and I might have our own ger at some point. It's normal for married people, isn't it?"

The unexpected demand stunned the Khan into silence for a moment, making him stare at his brother-in-law with sharp eyes. Then Nie Mingjue burst out laughing, while Lan Xichen blushed, hoping the other man couldn’t guess why he wanted them to have their own ger. 

He really didn't mind the Khan's company, and they'd become closer while caring for Huaisang, but… but at some point in the future Huaisang would be fully healed, and privacy would be very welcome.

“We’ll buy wood this summer,” Mingjue promised, “and you’ll help us build your ger.”

Lan Xichen smiled at him, grateful beyond words that the Khan agreed to this capricious demand. But then again, with how much he spoiled his brother, perhaps it shouldn’t have been too surprising.

They chatted a while longer the two of them, until the Khan had enough and decided to go to sleep. Lan Xichen prepared to do the same, but couldn’t resist checking one last time on Huaisang, just to make sure he hadn’t started bleeding again. He almost laughed when he came closer and saw Huaisang hastily close his eyes, pretending to be sound asleep.

Lan Xichen knelt down at his husband’s side, checking his wound, making sure he was comfortable. He then leaned closer, until his lips nearly touched Huaisang’s ear, making him shiver.

"Didn't I promise you I'd stay?" Lan Xichen whispered. "Stop being so worried about this. I'm choosing you today, and I'll keep choosing you every day."

Still pretending to sleep, Huaisang didn't reply, but he also couldn't refrain a smile. Lan Xichen pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek before getting up again. He sighed fondly as he prepared, overcome with love for this silly husband of his. 

Whatever the future held for them, he knew they would face it together.